horizon.
“What is it?” the kender asked, noting the intensity of his gaze. Coraltop scrambled onto the cabin and looked forward. “Say, I see it too. Is that what I think it is?”
Kerrick could only nod, awed and thrilled and frightened at the same time. There was supposed to be no land here, nothing but dire weather and trackless ocean. Yet there was a definitely solid shape in the distance, a rugged horizon above the sea, outlined in snow and rock. Suddenly Kerrick felt a sense of destiny, as if Zivilyn sat upon his shoulder and, in his wisdom, guided tiller and sail. Still holding his south by southwest course, he stared in the distance and watched as the land mass grew in size.
“Yes,” he said, finally answering the kender’s question. “That’s what you think it is-a mountain. Many mountains.”
11
The King’s Hall of Winterheim was a great chamber at the very summit of the city’s lofty mountain. Huge panels of enchanted ice gleamed high upon the arching walls and ceiling. During the summer these admitted the light of the sun, while in wintertime they emanated a light of their own, a magical spell cast upon them many generations before, at a time when the ogres boasted powerful mages and sorcerers among their ranks. Grimwar Bane had frequently wondered how long that enchantment was likely to last, for if it faded he knew that they would never find similar power among the ogres of contemporary Winterheim.
He was wondering about that right now, in fact, as he and Princess Stariz joined the king and queen and several other nobles, for a late breakfast in the vast chamber hall. Of course, it was still dark as they came along the outer balcony leading toward the royal hall. The span of daylight was by now limited to a few hours around noon. Beneath them, Grimwar could sense the contained power of the Snow Sea, the great drifts and swells heaving restlessly. Through the enchanted panels the rim of the Ice Wall was barely visible, a band of blue-white extending until it vanished in the distance The smells of fish and bread surrounded them as they entered and took their seats at the long table. The king and queen and the other lords were already there, but the prince knew he and his wife’s tardiness would be excused. Everyone knew that Stariz went through an elaborate prayer ritual upon awakening, and none wanted to offer any offense to Gonnas the Strong.
“We are going to inspect the mines later today,” announced King Grimtruth, a buttery fillet of salmon dangling from his lower lip. He slurped loudly, and the strip of fish, a good eight inches long, vanished into the royal maw. The king fixed a stern eye upon his son. “You must conclude your studies in the morning.”
Grimtruth’s attention shifted to Baldruk Dinmaker, the only non-ogre at the table. The dwarf was seated on a tall stool, though he was still overshadowed by Princess Stariz, on one side, and the obese Lord Quendip on the other. “How fares the prince’s learning?” the king asked Baldruk. “Do you remember that he must recite the royal lineage at the Neuwinter Rites? I will not tolerate a disaster such as occurred four years ago!”
Grimwar wanted to declare that yes, the dwarf certainly remembered that fact, as he had been drumming names and dates relentlessly into the prince’s head since their homecoming several weeks earlier. Instead the younger ogre merely turned his attention to his own pile of fillets and let the royal adviser answer for himself.
“In truth, I believe he will be ready, Sire, but the task is not an easy one, for the prince’s mind has a way of wandering.” The dwarf, his beard bristling, glared at Grimwar.
“You know how important that recitation is!” joined in Stariz, in the tone that never failed to creep up the prince’s spine. “You must show honor to our ancestors, to the kingdom-to the Willful One himself!”
“Do not concern yourself, I will master the names!” Grimwar retorted, his growl rising nearly to the level of a roar. It was sufficiently forceful that most other ogres would have recoiled, but not his priestess-wife. She merely stared at him, as if evaluating the truth of his answer. Finally she snorted, returning to her breakfast.
“I’m sure you will do very well,” Queen Thraid said encouragingly.
The king harrumphed skeptically, but before the conversation could continue Lord Quendip ordered the slaves to bring another platter of fillets. “Perhaps you should bring some for the others, too,” he noted without irony, smacking his thick lips.
For a time they ate in silence. Grimwar brooded upon the tedious tasks of the coming day while the others, apparently, were lost in appreciation of the sweet fish harvested in such plenitude this season. Once Thraid flashed the prince a sweet look, and he brightened a little, but then he saw Baldruk Dinmaker, his pale, cold eyes narrowed suspiciously, and Grimwar quickly returned his attention to his plate.
“The days grow very short,” the king announced, finally pushing himself back from the great table. “But I see the dawn has broken. Come with me, and behold the majesty of the Snow Sea.”
The others stopped eating, though Quendip slid a few oily fillets into the pouch of his leather vest, as the party rose. With the king leading and the prince following closely, they headed for the golden doors, which were whisked open by slaves. Immediately the icy wind swept in, as the ogres and the dwarf marched outside.
From the lip of the massive precipice, standing in a parapet, they saw immediately that the Snow Sea had risen to a high, probably unprecedented level. Vapors rose and swirled from a surface of drifts, huge swells that shifted and tossed hypnotically. In the graying light the vast swath of snow roiled angrily. Here and there the mists spun into whirlwinds, and against the barrier of the Ice Wall, a quarter mile below, the snow smashed and crested like powerful, icy breakers against a rugged coast.
Grimwar felt awe at the spectacle, and imagined the day when his father would wield the Axe of Gonnas and part the Ice Wall at the Neuwinter Rites. The great basin of snow was many thousands of feet deep. Over the sunlit months the snows swept steadily from the polar distance, massing and heaving and swelling behind the dam of the Ice Wall, waiting for the release provided each year by the ogre king’s rite. Legend claimed that should the ritual go awry, the pressure would increase until Winterheim, Black Ice Bay, and everything around was swept away by epic explosion and avalanche. It was the duty of the Suderhold King, most recently those monarchs of the Bane Dynasty, to ensure that never happened.
This ritual was always followed by the sacrifice of a slave, the pouring of blood onto the glacial face. The Axe of Gonnas struck the wall and released the storm that drove the ogres back into their citadel, wrapping a blanket of ice and darkness over all Icereach.
“We will leave for the mines at noon, to use such daylight as we can,” King Grimtruth announced as he abruptly took his leave. These words were largely for his son. “Be sure you are ready on time.”
Before the prince could reply, two slaves had slammed the great golden doors behind the departing king.
“The standard of the Death Hawk flew over all Ansalon at the height of the Foundation Age,” Grimwar recited, stalking around the tutorial chamber as he tried to remember the elusive facts of his history lesson.
“What were the major capitals?” snapped the dwarf, who was seated in a soft chair, leaning back with his eyes closed. Snik was in his hand, and Baldruk absentmindedly cleaned his fingernails with the lethal magical dagger.
“There was Kern in the east … Narakid to the north.…” The prince paused, forcing his mind to work. “Far west was Dalitgar, with Parlathin in the northwest.”
“The south! You can’t forget the south!”
“I was just getting to that,” snorted Grimwar, who had, in fact, forgotten all about the south. “That was Bloden Khalkist, heart of the empire and birthplace of the Death Hawk line.”
“How came the ogres to Icereach?” pressed the dwarf.
“It was King Barkon who set sail after the Heresy of Igraine,” Grimwar continued, once more feeling on firm ground. “He acted upon a prophecy given to him by Gonnas himself, who saw Igraine’s folly.”
“What was that folly?”
“He showed kindness to humans, even releasing some of his slaves. Those humans would breed in freedom, and Barkon saw that their spawn would be the ruin of our race.”
“Go on.”
