Caim peered through the freezing rain that had inundated them since they left the northern town. They traveled on what could only graciously be called a hunting trail. The rain had left a thick crust of ice, like a glass cocoon, over everything. It crackled under the hooves of their horses and made footing treacherous. Egil walked a hundred paces or so ahead of them, as was his habit. Perhaps he preferred solitude. Caim could understand that. These lonely plains were made for silence. The horizon was a faint divider between black earth and blacker heavens.
Caim buried his face in the shirt he was using for a scarf, feeling the wool snag on his whiskers. For the better part of two days he had been pondering the explosion that had almost killed them. Yet, even as his thoughts chased themselves around and around, he couldn't make up his mind. Had they been attacked, and had it all been an unfortunate accident? Caim had heard of granaries catching fire like that, but not homes exploding without warning. More than anything it reminded him of the fire that had burned down his apartment building in Othir. Coincidence?
“For fuck sakes!” Dray yelled. “I can't feel my toes.”
Caim swallowed a sharp retort. Dray and Malig had complained nonstop since leaving the town, about the cold, the rain, the darkness, and the food, but mainly about how they had been forced to leave town before they got to “know” their lady friends. On the other hand, Aemon hadn't said more than a dozen words since they'd left. Caim looked back at the blond Eregoth riding at the rear of the party by himself. Probably brooding over that slave girl at the market. The boy's too sensitive for his own good.
But when Caim closed his eyes, he saw her, too. Defenseless and alone before the ravenous crowd. She'd looked nothing like Josey except the hair, but he couldn't put her out of his head. Now who's the sensitive one?
“We should have stayed back there,” Dray said. “What was the harm in a couple more days? Those girls! Oh gods! We should have stayed.”
“Damn right, we should have,” Malig said. “The fire wasn't even that bad. Those girls were ready to go, and I ain't had a piece of tail in weeks.”
Dray laughed. “Hell, Mal. The way you were drooling, I didn't think you'd ever had a piece.”
“Fuck you, Dray. I've had half the girls in Joliet. You remember Marsa?”
Caim steered his horse around a crater in the trail. There were a few tall boulders ahead, lying on the plains like huge snowballs. Maybe they could find a place out of the wind to bed down for a couple hours.
“Hamer's sister?” Dray asked.
“That's right. Say, didn't that girl back there look a little like Marsa?”
“Which girl?”
“The one those guys were trying to buy. You know, in the square.”
“At the market?”
“Yeah-”
“Gods!” Aemon's voice called from the back of the line. “Don't you talk about anything else?”
Caim turned around. The others had pulled up behind him.
“What's the problem?” Malig laughed. “You don't like girls?”
Aemon's face was stark white in the cold. “I never said that, but you don't need to be saying those kinds of-”
“Saying what?” Malig spurred his mount closer to Aemon. “I'll say what I fucking want.”
“Mal,” Dray said. “Let it be.”
Malig spat on the ground. “To hell with that! I want to know what your little brother thinks I shouldn't be saying. Maybe he thinks he's the one to shut me-”
Aemon's right fist connected with the side of Malig's jaw with a hard thud. Malig kicked free of his stirrups and lunged, dragging Aemon off his horse. Caim glanced at Dray, who stayed where he was even though Malig was stronger and meaner than his brother by a fair margin, not to mention Aemon had a bad leg. When Malig rolled on top, Caim wondered if he should intervene, but a sharp smack sent the big man toppling over to the ground. Aemon pushed himself to his feet.
“I told you,” Dray said.
Malig sat up, shaking his head. “Shut up.”
Aemon got back on his horse and waited, saying nothing. Caim swung his steed back around. Maybe now they'll be quiet for a while.
Egil had paused down the trail. When the scuffle was over, he headed off again. Probably thinks we're all crazy. And I'm starting to think we are, too.
The stars came out in crystalline points of ruby as the sky deepened from twilight's coal to inky jet. At another time, in another place, they would have been beautiful.
“Hey, lover.” Kit planted a feathery kiss on his forehead as she appeared above him.
“You catch the fireworks?” he asked under his breath.
“Yes!” She giggled. “Malig should have known better than to mess with Aemon.”
“No. Back at town. The explosion?”
Kit came around in front of him. As he told her what had happened, her dress, or shirt-it barely came down to the tops of her thighs-changed from turquoise to a somber magenta. “I should have been there,” she said when he was finished.
“That would have been helpful.”
“I'm sorry. I, er…I thought you didn't want me around.”
Caim sighed. This was his fault. He had been acting different lately, more distant. “Don't worry about it. I'm glad you're back.”
She leaned closer. “You are? Then say it.”
He mouthed the words Kit wanted to hear, and then she threw herself across his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. “That's better. Now there's something up ahead-”
A sharp whistle cut the air, and Egil ran back toward the party. His lantern was extinguished. “Put out the light!” the guide hissed.
Dray turned down his lantern and shut the hood. “What is it?”
“Torches ahead,” Egil said, his breath puffing in the frosty air. “A score or more.”
Caim considered the land around them. It was as flat as a griddle except for a few ripples on the snowy plain and some scattered stones. “Coming this way?”
“Hard to say, but it looks like they'll cross our path. We should be fine if we're quiet.”
Caim glanced at Kit, but asked Egil, “Are these Bear tribesmen?”
“Most likely. We're pretty deep into their territory now.”
“That's what I was going to tell you,” Kit said. “They're White Bears heading west to their spring homes. But they don't know you're here.”
“Yet,” Caim whispered under his breath.
The others rode up. Malig had his broadaxe out as he craned his neck around. “Trouble?”
“Not sure.” Caim wrapped his reins around the horn of his saddle and climbed down. “But I'm going to take a look.”
Dray loosened his sword. “I'll go with you.”
When Malig and Aemon got down from their steeds, too, Caim didn't argue. He pointed to a stand of ice-sheathed rocks just off the trail. “Take the animals over there out of the wind and cover them up, but keep the saddles on.”
“You've got the eyes of a cat,” Egil said with a shake of his head.
As the guide led the horses off, Caim checked his knives. “Keep up,” he said. “If we get split up, meet back here.”
Without waiting for a reply, Caim took off. His boots crunched through the snow's light crust, but the sound was swallowed by the wind.
Kit floated along beside him. “Caim, this isn't funny. What are you doing?”
“Just a peek,” he whispered back, not sure himself. Since leaving the last town he'd been uneasy. Recent events had him feeling like he was searching for a diamond in a heap of glass shards. The explosion had capped it. There were outside forces at work in his life, and it was time he faced them head-on.
“Just a moment.” Kit darted closer and threw her arms around his shoulders. Her feathery touch made him shiver. “There. Feel anything…different?”
Caim clenched his fists while he walked to keep from trying to push her away in front of the others. She was being more irritating than usual. Except he did feel something, a lingering pressure where their skin met. More than the normal tickle, but he didn't have time for her games. “No. Now cut it out.”
She pulled back, her lips pulled down in a frown. “Okay. Sorry.”
Caim ducked through her with a shake of his head. As he led the Eregoths away, a familiar feeling of ease settled over him. For a moment, it was just like old times. Then Dray cursed and Malig snickered, and he wanted to kill them both.
“I see something.” Aemon pointed. “Over there.”
Caim had seen them, too. Several points of light bobbed on the plains north of their position. Hurrying across the uneven ground, Caim found a short esker and crouched behind it. The others joined him, their boots gouging footholds in the snow. The lights grew into torches, illuminating bearded faces under bestial helms. Two dozen Northmen on massive, hairy steeds. They rode double-file as they headed-thankfully-west. Caim was content to stay and watch until they were out of sight, the better to be sure they were gone, before he returned to the horses. He decided they would ride all night. If this territory was patrolled, he wanted to be through it as soon as possible.
A shout caught Caim's attention. The lead Northmen riders had pulled up. Their torches waved back and forth as if they were searching for something. Then a horse screamed, and one of the torches fell to the ground and went out. Caim squinted as more horsemen appeared from the west, plunging into the Bear tribesmen. By the dim light he could make out the rise and fall of gleaming steel, hear the angry clash of arms and men.
“What's going on?” Malig asked, rising up for a better view.
Caim yanked him back down. “Quiet! And keep your head down. There's two groups fighting. I can't tell who they are except they're both Northmen.”
Dray snorted. “That's good for us. They keep themselves busy while we slip in there and clean the pick-”
“You three aren't going anywhere,” Caim said. “Stay put while I go for a closer look.”
“Why?” Malig asked. “What's it got to do with us?”
Caim tamped down the urge to strangle him. “We don't know yet. The rest of you-”
“I want to go with you,” Aemon interjected.
“-stay here,” Caim finished. “If you see trouble, get back to get the horses.”
“What about you?”
“I'll be fine. You just keep heading north and I'll find you.”
“This is bullshit,” Dray muttered.
Caim ignored the comment as he made his way over the esker and down the other side. What was he doing? This was an unnecessary risk. Or was it? For better or worse, he was following his instincts. He looked around, but Kit was gone.
The original column of Northmen had broken up into small knots of fighters, but they still had the advantage of numbers. As those numbers began to tell, the attackers suddenly broke off. The defenders gave chase, cutting down those who were too slow in retreat, and it looked as though they had turned the tables on their assailants. Then clods of snow erupted from the ground, and men emerged-warriors wielding great axes and hammers. They hit the Bear tribe column from both sides.
Caim slipped behind a clump of thorny brush and got down on his belly. The Bear tribesmen were all down. Howls and groans carried on the breeze. Caim saw more headpieces, and for a moment he envisioned them as wolves with fangs agleam, but then they resolved into feline heads perched on iron caps.
A Northman pulled up near Caim's position. He was brawny, with a thick, black beard down to his chest. Blood dripped from the blade of his long-hafted axe; a round shield of wood was strapped to his other arm. His helm was topped by a tall headpiece made from the head of a great, white cat. It swiveled back and forth as if searching for more prey. Caim gritted his teeth as tiny voices chittered to him from the darkness. Shadows oozed from underneath the brush and touched him, crawled up his arms. Their icy caresses drew deep shivers from his muscles. Their hunger infected him, making him want to join the violence and feel the power of death in his hands.
Blood on my knives, dripping in the snow.
Caim shunted the longing away as he gathered his legs under him. The fighting was over. The cat-men were gathering the loose horses and picking through the remains. Corpses made bloody heaps in the trampled snow. Caim was trying to decide what he wanted to do when something crunched behind him. He spun around, both knives drawn, to see Dray crouched a dozen paces away with Aemon and Malig following him. Before Caim could motion for the clansmen to get back, torchlight washed over them, and a hoarse voice bellowed. Caim almost bit off the tip of his tongue. The axe-man rode up, his horse snorting steam in the cold night air. Caim considered the distance between him to the Northman. If he could drop this one fast enough, they might still make a clean escape.
Thoughts of a quick kill-and-dash ended when more hoofbeats and crackling ice sounded from behind. Caim didn't have to look to know that more barbarians had ridden up, cutting off their escape.
“What do we do, Caim?” Dray asked. He and the others had drawn their weapons and stood with their backs together.
Caim calculated the outcome if he attacked. He could escape, he had no doubt, but the others would be run down and slaughtered. With a sigh, he slid his knives back into their sheaths and held up his hands. “Put up your weapons,” he said.
“The hell I will!” Malig shouted.
Caim shrugged. “Then you'll die.”
More Northmen arrived. Their voices shot back and forth in the bitter cold air. He didn't know what they said, but he assumed the worst. Then a deep voice spoke in Nimean.
“You are not of the Tribes.”
Caim located the axe-man. It was difficult to make out much of his features under the heavy helm, except for a pitch-black beard and a long puckered scar down the left side of his face. He wore a chainmail hauberk that came down to his knees, rusted in a few places, and over it a cloak of white fur that reminded Caim of the mantles worn by the clan chiefs in Eregoth.
“No, we're not,” Caim replied.
The speaker nudged his steed to approach to within a couple steps. “Who are you?”
Caim said his name, and those of his crew. Behind him, he heard someone muttering. Probably Malig. He's going to get us killed if he isn't careful. One look at the Northmen had been enough to tell Caim that they were the worst kind of deadly. They enjoyed the slaughter. In fact, they reminded him of Soloroth's Northmen.
“We saw the light of the fires,” Caim said. “And came to see what it was.”
The speaker laughed, but his men remained silent. “I am Wulfgrim, son of Grimhild, chief of what is left of the Snow Lions. Our camp is not far. You will come and share our fire.”
There was no question in his invitation, and Caim hadn't expected any. They had two choices: go with them, or try to fight their way out. And not being able to rely on the shadows made that a losing proposition. “We have horses nearby.”
Wulfgrim signaled, and his men prepared to depart.
Caim kept his face neutral as he turned and led the way back to the rocks. Aemon and the others looked to him, but he didn't have anything to tell them. They'd have to play this one as it came.
The walk seemed shorter on the way back. The Northmen rode around them, gibbering in their harsh tongue. Laughing. When they arrived at the spot, their horses were there, huddled together, but Egil was gone.
“Where's-?” Dray started to say, until Caim caught his eye and made a small headshake. “Where's my waterskin?” he finished. “I'm damned parched.”
As they mounted up under the watchful gazes and headed out, Caim peered across the wastes. Egil was well and truly gone.
Caim blew into his cupped hands, but his fingertips felt only the barest warmth. Wulfgrim, the Northman leader, had said their camp was nearby, but they had been riding for more than a candlemark. At least they were heading north, mostly. A little west, too, but he had bigger concerns at the moment. Like staying alive.
“I told you to stay away,” Kit said even before she appeared before him. Worry was etched in her eternally youthful features.
Caim hunched over his hands. With the Eregoths and the Northmen riding all around him, there wasn't much he could say. At this point, does it really matter if they think I'm insane? Probably not, but he wasn't ready to go down that route, as much as it might tickle Kit.
“I don't like these ones.” Kit straddled his horse's neck, which made the animal lift its head and snort. “They aren't like Egil. They're…different.”
“Like Soloroth's wildmen,” Caim whispered, so quiet he could hardly hear his own words. But Kit caught them.
“Exactly. So how are you planning to get out of this?”
He wished he knew.
Kit leaned in close. “You don't have a plan, do you? Caim, these men aren't fooling around. And their leader, that Wulfgrim, is deep-down ugly.”
He knew by her tone that Kit didn't mean physically repulsive. “I'm always careful.”
She shook her head. “Not careful enough by half. If you were, we'd be lying on a warm beach right now instead of trudging through this miserable ice-hell.”
He couldn't argue, but he knew in his gut that he'd still have come here, somehow. The pulling in his soul had begun so long ago, he couldn't remember a time when he hadn't felt it. Caim started to say something when the Northmen all whooped aloud, and the entire party advanced at a snow-churning canter. Small points of light appeared ahead, campfires shining between low, ice-covered tors. Tall men with spears waited for them. They shouted something, and Wulfgrim replied with a lusty yell. The riders cheered.
The camp consisted of thirty-some round tents of stitched hide scattered around half a dozen fire pits. A trampled area between two long hills served as the pasture. The Northmen hobbled their steeds to spikes and unloaded them, leaving the animals to stand in the cold. The supplies were opened, and their contents passed around. Kettles and pans appeared, and food was cooking in short order. As Caim dismounted, a young Northman with a scraggly yellow beard came to take their horses. Malig started to growl something until Dray slapped him on the shoulder.
“Southlanders!” Wulfgrim waved them over as he sat by a fire. “You are my guests!”
Caim looked to the others and nodded, and they made their way over to the leader. There was no place to sit except in the snow. Caim eased down onto his cloak. Wulfgrim took off his helm and laid it beside him. The lion head crowning the headpiece was gigantic; the beast must have been as big as a pony. The chieftain rummaged a tarnished silver cup out of a sack and poured into it some milky drink from a huge skin bladder. After a healthy dose, he passed it to Dray, who sniffed it and then took a swig.
“You.” Wulfgrim pointed at Caim. The long scar down his cheek glowed angry red in the firelight. More scars marked his powerful arms. “Why are you here? Southlanders do not come to the wastes. Maybe trade down by the mountains, but not so far north.”
Caim waited to take his turn with the drink before he spoke, and almost choked on the thick, clotted stuff that filled his mouth.
“Buffalo milk,” Wulfgrim said as Caim struggled to swallow it. “Mixed with mare's blood.”
Caim passed it on to Aemon. Despite its nasty taste, the liquor heated his insides and made his hands tingle. “We've sold our swords all across the Southlands, as you call them. We came north to find better sport.”
Wulfgrim refilled his cup. “More sport? Ulfric, come hear these southerners who speak of war as if it's a game.”
A big Northman glanced over from another fire, blood wetting his beard as he chewed on a half-cooked hunk of meat. “Tal hundr skyrf na vurd.”
Wulfgrim laughed. “He says you look like a pack of hairless dogs.”
“A dog, am I?” Malig asked, loud enough to be heard throughout the camp.
Malig started reaching for his axe, but Caim yanked his arm down and hissed, “Keep quiet. This isn't a country fair.”
The chieftain chuckled and took another deep gulp. “Do not mind Ulfric. He lost his heart to a Southland beauty some years ago and misses her still.”
A woman came over with spits of steaming meat for each of them. Kit sniffed it and shrugged, which Caim took to mean it wasn't poisoned or carrying some infection. He noted there weren't many females with the tribe, and even the young ones looked hard-used. He saw why when a Northman at another fire grabbed a woman passing by and threw her down on the cold ground. He climbed on top of her without preamble and began pumping away. None of the other Northmen paid much mind to their grunting, although Malig watched with a wide grin. “I could do with a piece of that.”
Dray flicked a piece of gristle into the fire. “Watch out, Mal. These she-lions are like to bite off your member and cook it in a stew.”
Caim glanced at their host, but Wulfgrim grinned, revealing horizontal furrows carved into the fronts of his teeth. The others set to their meals with gusto, but Caim took small bites of the tough meat. When the milk-skin came around again, he passed it without drinking. Aemon, too, was abstaining, and he didn't touch his food. At least someone is keeping his head on straight.
When he finished his meal, Caim wiped his greasy fingers on his pants. “Wulfgrim, why do you war on the Bear tribe?”
Wulfgrim spat a mouthful of liquor into the fire, making the flames sizzle. “The Night swallow their souls, every last one of them. We war, yes. We kill every one we find. Austrivegr bjern foera hel!”
Caim didn't understand the last part, but the other Northmen responded with laughter and catcalls.
“A blood feud,” Dray said with a belch as he lowered the bladder from his mouth.
“Aye.” Wulfgrim patted the axe by his side. “When my father was chieftain, our lands could not be crossed in a week's time on horseback. The other tribes feared to test our steel. Then came the Dark. The sky turned black, and the Fates fixed us with an evil weird. Now the Bear tribe rules over the wastes.” He tossed a hunk of gristle into the fire.
Caim considered the Northman over the flames. He wasn't as simple as Kit had made him out to be. Caim could understand Wulfgrim's fight to preserve the power and dignity of his people. “If we go north,” he said, “will we encounter more of these Bear tribesmen?”
Wulfgrim's eyes were slits through the smoke. His lips were thick and red amid the greasy curls of his beard. “Aye. They have grown strong under the Dark One's wing, but that will not protect them when we come.”
Caim frowned. Keegan's father, Hagan, had mentioned a dark lord of the north. And then there was the man he'd seen in Sybelle's vision. But before he could ask more, Wulfgrim stood up. He towered over them like a primeval giant. “Sleep. In the morning we will talk more.”
And then he walked away into the gloom.
Malig clucked his tongue. “He's a little off, eh?”
“You could say that,” Dray said as he accepted the bladder back. “But fuck, these Wastelanders make good firemead. You taste that little something in there? Maybe cloves. We should get their recipe.” He squirted another long gulp into his mouth.
Caim leaned forward. “Are you three clear-headed enough to think?”
Aemon looked up from the campfire. “I haven't touched a drop.”
“I know, but you've been in a fog since we left that last town. I need you here.” Caim's gaze wandered across the tents and other fires. “I don't know what they're planning to do with us, so keep your wits about you and your weapons at hand. We'll sleep in shifts. If anything happens, stay together and try to get to the horses. Aemon, you have first watch.”
Dray eyed the bladder. “Hey, what if they poisoned the milk?”
Caim pulled his cloak tight around his shoulders and lay down in the snow. The homebrew had left a nasty aftertaste in his mouth. “Then die quietly so the rest of us can get some sleep.”
While the others settled down, tossing muffled insults back and forth, Aemon scuttled over to Caim. “What do you think happened to Egil?”
“I hope he was smart enough to get far away from here.”
Aemon glanced beyond the fire, out onto the frozen plains. “Yeah.”
Caim wanted to close his eyes, but a sense of unease had settled in his chest, and it refused to let him be. These Northmen looked like ordinary men, but something vicious lurked behind their eyes. Something inhuman.
Kit appeared on top of him. For a moment, Caim could have sworn he felt her weight pressing down on him in a surprising-and very enjoyable-way. But then the sensation was gone and she was floating over him, a small frown flattening her lips. “What are you going to do, Caim?”
Unsure what she meant, he didn't answer. Kit laid her head on his chest, sending electric tingles through his body. “Is it ever going to be just the two of us again?”
The urge to hold her close washed over Caim. His hands started to reach up, but then fell back by his sides. Through the ethereal halo of her hair he saw the stars twinkling. “I don't know,” he whispered into her hair.
He closed his eyes, listening to the crackle of the fire. When he opened them again, she was gone.