“As are most people,” the elf agreed.
“I see the fire!” Little Mouse called from the bow.
Kerrick was surprised. The crossing had passed very quickly, considering the light wind. He stood and took a bearing on the signal, saw that his reckoning had carried them on a direct line toward the mouth of the sheltered bay.
Moreen stared intently into darkness that even to elven eyes was impenetrable except for the speck of brilliance.
“Look for a tall pillar-I called it the Signpost,” said Kerrick. “Behind that is a nice cove, with what looked like a big cove on shore.”
“There it is,” Mouse said excitedly. “Just to the left.”
“That’s, ‘Just to port,’ “ Kerrick corrected good-naturedly. He gently steered
Moreen climbed down to sit on the cockpit bench. Her breath puffed into visible vapor, and she pulled her fur jacket tightly around her torso. “The temperature is still dropping,” she observed.
The elf sensed that her words were offered in friendship, but he was still distracted by her description of the Sturmfrost and only grunted in reply.
“You said your name was Kerrick Fallabrine?” she said after a silence. “Does it have a meaning?”
“Of course. All elven names have meaning, most of them dating back to the clans that were awarded titles at the first Sinthel-Elish. That was nearly three thousand years ago,” he added with a hint of smugness, steering into the cove, gliding toward the fire that was now flaming brightly, even reflecting from the surrounding cliffs.
“Well?” She was looking at him but not in anger. Instead, one corner of her mouth turned up, and the other tilted down in that bemused half-smile.
Kerrick felt a little foolish about his pompous answer. “Oh, my name means that I am a son of House Mariner, Silvanesti. We have been sailors since the dawn of our clan. My namesake, Kerrick, fought against ogres in the First Dragon War.”
“Kerrick.” She rolled the word around on her tongue. “Very exotic.”
He didn’t know what to say to that and was spared the necessity of response when Little Mouse shouted from the bow, “Ice!”
“Take in the sail!” he called, steering the boat sharply into the light wind as Tildey, who had learned a bit during her four crossings, hauled the line.
The fire was barely a long bowshot away now, and the flames clearly reflected a surface of smooth ice between the boat and the shore. It hadn’t been there on his last visit, ten or twelve hours earlier, so he knew that it couldn’t be very thick. Still, they would have to crack a path all the way to shore-a frustrating delay, with the vivid image of the imminent Sturmfrost holding his full attention.
Impatiently he cast his eyes along the shore and noticed a bright expanse of water glimmering a short distance to the side. This was not the brightness of light, however. Instead, his elven senses perceived a place where the liquid was significantly warmer than the rest of the little bay.
“Hot springs!” he guessed, encouraged. “There must be a stream flowing out of the cave, and it’s warming the water all the way into the bay.” Indeed, as he looked farther, he could see the vague outlines of a little creek, hazy in the distance but emerging from the wide-mouthed cave. The waters were pleasantly warm to his sight.
“Give me some canvas,” he called to Tildey, and she quickly deployed the sail.
He had to tack away from shore, then come about in order to line up with the stream. Soon they were passing between sheets of ice to port and starboard, following a clear, liquid path until the keel scraped gently on the sandy bottom. By this time they could see many of the Arktos. The tribespeople had sheltered in the large cave, but with the boat’s approach they came down to the shore. One by one the passengers dropped off the bow into the waist-deep water and quickly slogged their way to emerge, dripping and shivering, onto the beach where each was hastily escorted to the vicinity of the fire.
Tildey, Moreen, and Bruni were the last of the Arktos on the boat. Kerrick eyed them warily, wondering suddenly if they would try and take back their gold. He looked toward the cabin, deciding he might be able to race back and snatch his sword before they grabbed him.
Moreen seemed to have other concerns and looked at him seriously.
“I am sorry that we took you by force. Your boat has given us new chance of survival.”
“Because you could escape those warriors, the Highlanders who chased you on the far shore?”
She shrugged. “In part. Here we are on the land that once belonged to our ancestors. That an ancient fortress city, up there, was long-abandoned by our people. We were forced out by dragons. We will claim it again and gain shelter from the winter. If you sail back into these waters, you will be welcomed as our guest.”
“Thank you,” Kerrick said. He found himself hoping that the Arktos would find the comfort and shelter they desired. “As for myself, I intend to be far away from here before this Sturmfrost hits.”
“Good luck.” She held out a hand and he took it, reciprocating her strong grip.
“And to you,” he offered.
He watched the trio wade to shore, then, using the oar, propelled his sailboat back through the channel between the ice sheets, noticing with concern that the passage was narrower than it had been only an hour ago. His breath frosted before his face, and the snow came harder.
From the open water of the bay he looked back to shore and saw the Arktos plodding back to the dark cave mouth. Steam rose from that opening, and he hoped the hot springs would provide enough warmth for them, at least until they could move into the ruin.
The breeze fluttered past his cheek, a little stronger than before, and he deployed his mainsail, anxious to move. The boat leaned slightly under the force of the wind, and he steered a course out of the cove, onto the gulf and its pathways to all the oceans of the world.
“Moreen! You did it!”
The chiefwoman was surrounded by Arktos, all of them trying to hug her. Gently she pushed through the throng and made her way to the fire, which swelled under the addition of numerous dry pine trunks. Her leggings, which had frozen when she emerged from the water, began to steam, and she relished the warmth seeping back into her bones.
“Right here there’s a splendid cave,” Hilgrid said. “Big and deep and mostly dry, except for a few springs of real, truly
Moreen gestured to the looming height, the mountain rising just back from shore. She remembered her view of this place from across the strait, and the glimpse of walls and towers she had seen above. “What about a route up there? Brackenrock cannot be far away.”
“There’s a path, you can see in daylight,” Hilgrid explained. “It’s covered with rocks and scree, but at one time it must have been a real roadway. I think this cove the elf found might once have been the harbor of Brackenrock. There’s a stone shelf on the other side that looks as if it must have been a dock once.”
Moreen felt a thrill of awe and discovery. This was surely the place, the ancient home of the Arktos! To think that Chislev had favored them enough to lead them here.
“We’ll rest until we start to get some light, then go up there, a party of us, to see what we can find. I hope we’ll be able to bring the whole tribe up there before Sturmfrost.”
“We’d better not dally,” Dinekki said, hobbling out of the darkness. She looked at Moreen with pride, then clucked in concern. “I just cast the stones-a bit of a trick when you can’t see the sky-but the goddess spoke to me. I can tell you that the Sturmfrost will be here in no more than three days’ time.”
“That should be enough,” Moreen said. “Remember, at first light we go to find our home.”
“Boy, it’s cold down there. Can’t we build a fire or something?”
“Coraltop?” Kerrick, at the tiller of his boat, gaped in surprise as the kender sauntered around the side of the cabin to join him in the cockpit. “But … where were you? How did you get back aboard?”
“I just took a nap,” replied the little fellow, plopping down on the bench. “You know, I’m really hungry. Did
