The Messenger

desperate plea for a sign, for some indication of the god’s favor, or of his will.

Smoke and vapors thickened in the chamber, swirling around, obscuring the air so that Grimwar could see neither his wife nor the black statue symbolizing the object of her worship. Crashes and roars resonated from the murk, and the prince fought to hold his nerve, fighting the urge to flee. He stayed in place, hands clenched so tightly that his fingers hurt. The smoke stung his eyes, but he blinked away the tears and stared intently.

Abruptly Stariz screamed and stumbled out of the smoke cloud, staggering drunkenly, her hands clasped to either side of her face. The human slavewoman stepped forward only to be slapped roughly aside by an accidental blow of the ogress’s flailing hand. Finally the priestess slumped to her knees, holding herself as her huge body was convulsed with deep, racking sobs.

Grimwar froze, again feeling that almost insurmountable urge to flee. He shook his head sternly, reminding himself that he was a bull ogre, heir to a great kingdom. He would not, could not, allow himself to give in to fear.

He went to his wife, knelt at her side, helped her pull off the heavy mask. Supporting her in his strong arms, he assisted her to the clearer air behind the temple’s heart. The smoke was thick and choking but finally parted enough for him to breath easier. Nearby the human slave groaned and followed them groggily.

“What? What is it?” demanded Grimwar, as his wife’s eyelids fluttered open.

“I have seen the visions of the Willful One, and they are filled with messages of doom if we-if you-fail to act!”

“But what-”

“The elven messenger!” gasped the princess, cutting him off, her bloodshot eyes fixing Grimwar with a look of terror that he found utterly unsettling. “He has come to Icereach! He is here! I saw more, a deeper warning. There is a human woman, a survivor of your raids this summer. You should not have let her escape! For it is as I told you-she will be his agent of destiny!”

“How?” The prince couldn’t suppress his irritation. Why was she telling him this now, when it was too late to do anything about it. “What else did you learn? What other dangers do we face?” he demanded, as they came out of the temple gates to find Grimtruth and his queen watching them worriedly. Stariz staggered, leaning against the wall, slowly slumping to the floor.

Finally the high priestess, with a groan, struggled to a sitting position, legs splayed before her on the marble floor. The queen touched her arm and Stariz impatiently brushed the other ogress’s hand away.

“Other dangers. Is that not enough? No, I saw none beyond those two,” Grimwar’s wife said slowly. But he noticed, as she spoke, that her tiny eyes shifted, narrowing with a scowl that was directed straight at Queen Thraid Dimmarkull ber Bane.

12

Tall Cedar Bay

That smoke will be visible for miles,” Moreen said with concern. She, Bruni and Tildey stood atop a rocky hill, watching the camp where the Arktos were beginning to stir on this cold, misty morning. During these short days, the tribe rose before dawn and continued marching long into the hours of darkness. “Do you think there are any thanoi around here?”

“It seems like those whale-killers are everywhere these days,” Bruni said with a grim shake of her head.

“Best to keep a constant lookout,” Tildey remarked. She looked at her half-empty quiver. “I wish I had more arrows.” After the fight with the thanoi, she had recovered about ten of her lethal missiles, but that was all she had.

“The way is probably clear to the south and east,” the chiefwoman continued, thinking aloud. “I’d like to head north for another day’s march, though, to scout in that direction. We must be getting close to the place my father called Tall Cedar Bay. I’d like to find Tall Cedar Bay and maybe take shelter there until we can find Brackenrock.”

“Good idea,” Bruni said, as Tildey nodded too. “We’ll come with you.”

Moreen’s eyes rose from the campsite, her gaze sweeping past the strip of beach onto the gray water of the gulf. Many days it rained now, and just yesterday an icy wind off the gulf had turned the rain into stinging sleet, forcing the Arktos into an early camp. To take advantage of the halt, they had erected racks, and continued the process of curing whale meat above slow-burning fires.

“Is it just the thanoi that worries you?” Bruni asked, her round face frowning thoughtfully.

“No. In truth, I’d feel better if the Highlanders didn’t know how to find us by looking for our smoke.” Unconsciously she glanced over her shoulder, across the landscape of rolling, hilly tundra. There was no sign of any of Strongwind Whalebone’s men, but the chiefwoman had no doubt that some remained in the vicinity, keeping track of the slow-moving and poorly armed band.

“The cedars might give us some cover,” Bruni agreed cheerfully. “Not to mention we’d be able to build some nice fires.”

As if in response to her assertion, the wind picked up a notch, chilling Moreen’s face, tugging at the strands of hair that broke free from her braids. “Let’s go, then,” she said.

Dinekki, who was overseeing the drying racks, smacked her toothless gums in appreciation of Moreen’s plan. “Good. Watch out for tuskers,” she said. “I’ll keep an eye on things around here.”

“Thank you, Grandmother. We’ll be back in two or three days.”

“I’m coming with you!” Little Mouse, who had been squatting near a drying fire a dozen paces away, jumped up and ran towards them.

“The ears on that boy,” Bruni said with a laugh. “He could hear a flower bud, I swear he could.”

“Not that there’ll be much of that in the next half year,” Dinekki clucked. “You, Mouse-you’re needed to stick close around here. Every camp of the Arktos needs a scout, and with these three off sightseeing who else do you think I’m going to count on?”

“But-!” The youth’s objection died in his throat. “A scout? You mean, to kind of look around the area, keep an eye out for trouble and the like?”

“As I said, if not you, who?” the shaman demanded. “Would you send a little toddler out to do some scouting? How about your mother? Or maybe you think old Dinekki has nothing better to do than march up and down these hills on her old bones?”

“No, I’ll do it!” Mouse declared. He raced to the tribe’s small cache of weapons and picked up the spear he had claimed after the battle with the tuskers. “Nothing’s going to sneak up on the tribe while I’m the scout!” he declared proudly.

“I’m glad we can count on you,” Moreen said, feeling emotion tighten her throat. He looked so sincere, so brave, so young. The chiefwoman, Bruni, and Tildey had been all through the area in the past day, and she felt reasonably confident there was no threat in the immediate vicinity.

“All right-stay alert, and come and tell Dinekki if you see anything unusual.”

“I will!” he promised. He slung the spear over his shoulder and started up a hill, as the trio of women armed themselves and took a few provisions and a waterskin from the tribe’s supplies. The last thing the chiefwoman saw, before they started up the beach, was the black-haired youth bracing himself against the wind, long spear in his hands, earnestly peering out over the land.

“I admit I wasn’t sure where we were, or that there was any hospitable land around here,” Kerrick said as he and Coraltop gazed across placid water at an enclosed valley, dark green with a dense grove of evergreens. Two ridges faced by steep, rocky precipices extended inland. It seemed that trees-the first such timber they had seen on this rugged coast-thrived between the elevations.

“Oh, I knew we would find some place to land sooner or later,” the kender said breezily. “It was just a matter of staying patient. As for me, I’m always patient. As my grandmother used to say, ‘Coraltop, you are the very soul of patience.’ ”

Kerrick was standing at the front of the cabin and looking down into the empty fish locker. “Well,” the elf