Tezzeret could clearly see its eyes flickering this way and that, its crooked teeth behind a scraggly bearded jaw. It was built like a man, it moved like an animal-and it was made entirely of mists, individual wisps woven together, the final steaming breaths of a hundred frozen corpses.
And though it could not possibly have seen Tezzeret through sheets of sleet and a blanket of illusion, nonetheless it raised its head to the skies in a silent howl and began to lope in their direction, the barbarians following.
Again they ran, Jace panting and wheezing beside the artificer, who seemed utterly tireless. More than once Jace stumbled, tripped up by snow drifts over which Tezzeret smoothly ran; and after his third tumble, Tezzeret stopped reaching down a hand to haul him up. Jace felt a sudden chill that had nothing whatsoever to do with the blizzard around them, and redoubled his efforts.
Once and once only, Tezzeret-far more comfortable in the role of hunter than hunted-stopped and turned to fight. Mouthing a complex spell, he hurled a tiny shard of scrap metal. It flew far, and against the wind, to strike the iron box in which the barbarian's ghostly hound had lurked-and that iron began to bend. It toppled slowly off the wagon, accompanied by the sound of rending metal. And then it rose, a mere box no longer, but a construct of enormous size, humanoid but twice as tall as a human, inhabited by whatever spirit Tezzeret had called from the outer void. It stepped forward with a series of clicks and whirrs, ready to engage the barbarians in battle.
And from above, a shadow spread over the ice-veiled sun. Nicol Bolas circled once, wings outspread as though to clutch the world entire, and melted Tezzeret's forged ally to slag with a single fiery exhalation, filling the chasm with choking fumes.
The flames never came near the artificer or the mage, of course, for Bolas was indeed still bound by the ward. And again his laughter echoed through the canyon as Jace and Tezzeret ran once more, the barbarians close on their heels. Jace looked briefly back, and noticed with some puzzlement that the frozen apparition leading those barbarians stopped for a moment to stare at the swiftly cooling scrap; an idea began to work its way through the haze of exhaustion that smothered his mind.
The chasm grew jagged. Spurs of rock reached into their path, grabbing at cloak and limb; narrow bridges arched overhead, from which extra bits of snow sifted down as savages ran from one side to the other seeking a better vantage. Beneath the snow and the ice, the stone grew precarious, until even Tezzeret had to slow his pace lest an ankle turn beneath him or he find himself planted face-first on the ground.
And always the barbarians were there, led by their unerring hound. They lurked above, sending arrows deep into the chasm at the slightest sign of motion. They ran only a few hundred yards behind, following the directions of the ghostly guide from the box. Time and again Jace and Tezzeret took cover and heard only the winds, hoped that they might have lost their pursuers long enough to walk from this world, only to hear the echoes of nearing boots as they began their concentrations.
Eventually even the seemingly indefatigable Tezzeret was wheezing, and Jace had to keep one hand constantly on the wall to prevent himself from toppling over.
Turning on his heel, the artificer dragged Jace into still another tiny crevice, one that would provide no shelter at all once their pursuers spotted them. But this time, Tezzeret cried out, calling upon every iota of mana he could spare without stranding him on this forsaken rock of a world. To each side of the fissure, the clinging ice melted into running rivulets, the stone grew red hot. Slowly- too slowly, Jace feared-it poured across the front of the crevice, sealing it away from the main chasm. Tezzeret continued to stand, chanting, face sweating despite the cold, and as swiftly as it had melted, the rock began to cool. In a matter of instants, a featureless wall of stone separated prey from hunters.
Jace staggered, all but falling against the wall. His head still pounded, and he could hardly speak for the frozen crust of sweat and blood that caked the side of his face. He knew that casting much of anything was unwise, that he had to save his physical strength to get out of this world.
'That'll hold the savages out,' Tezzeret grunted, 'but I don't think it's going to stop that other-thing. How does it keep finding us?'
Struggling to stay alert, Jace whispered hoarsely, 'I think it senses our warmth, Tezzeret.' Again he tried to dig deep into the surrounding ice, hoping, pleading for a source of mana into which he could tap. And again he found nothing but dregs.
But what he found instead was inspiration.
'Tezzeret!' he hissed into the shadows. 'That gadget of yours? The one keeping you warm!'
'What about it?' Tezzeret asked suspiciously.
'Can you make it generate cold instead?'
'Beleren, what good could that possibly-you're not serious!'
'No, of course not. It's a joke I've been saving for just the right bloody occasion.'
'Do you have any idea how cold the air would have to be to block our own body heat? If we take even half a minute too long, we'll freeze to death!'
Jace scowled. 'And you're arguing with me, wasting what time we have, because you have a better idea.'
Tezzeret scowled back and began to fidget with the device on his arm.
Outside, the beast of the frost had placed a single hand upon the newly formed wall separating the crevice from the outside world, when it abruptly stopped. Uttering a canine whimper, it lifted its head and sniffed heavily at the air. Puzzled, it tried again, and yet again.
Nothing. No heat at all, save its masters and their packmates behind it.
For many long moments it stood, confused as it had never been before. But the tattered soul that empowered the spectral thing was not that of any hound, however much it behaved as one. It had once been a man, and though all traces of that man were gone and forgotten, the beast could reason still. Thus, when it could not reacquire any trace of its prey, it made straight for the point it had scented them last.
But those few minutes of confusion made all the difference. When it finally seeped into the crevice, its misty form passing between the rocks and snow where even a beetle could not have creeped, it found the hollow empty.
'How are you doing, Jace?' Kallist asked, leaning against the wall beside the doorway.
Jace looked up from beneath a veritable mountain of blankets. 'I'll be fine,' he said, 'though that may be the last remnants of the kalyola brandy talking.'
The other man grinned. 'Feeling no pain, are you?' 'Kallist,' Jace said, and chuckled, 'I'm not sure I can even feel my head.' His face quickly turned serious, however. 'What about your assignment?' he asked. 'Were you still able to make it look natural?'
'Barely. It required a whole lot of fire. You really don't want to know any more about it.' He smirked knowingly. 'And don't think you can change the topic that easily, either.'
'Honestly, Kallist, I'm fine. It was just a toe; I've got nine more. The healers say I shouldn't even be limping after a few more days.'
Kallist nodded. 'You think Tezzeret had to have anything amputated?'
'I have no idea, but you be sure to let me know when you plan on asking him. I'd like to be elsewhere.'
'Well, it won't be today,' Kallist said, his own expression turning serious as well. 'Today he wants to talk to you.'
'Oh, for the love of…! He can't give me a few days to-'
'He sort of wants to see you now, Jace. He's waiting in Paldor's chamber.'
'Fine.' Jace tossed the blankets off to one side of the bed and turned so he sat upon the edge. From the nightstand he took a length of bandage from a bath of herbs and potions, and began the arduous task of wrapping his mutilated foot. Kallist did his best to ignore the wincing and the occasional hiss of pain.
'The next time someone tells you that freezing to death is a 'pleasant way to go,'' Jace muttered, his face grown pallid, 'you tell them to come talk to me about frostbite.' His foot properly wrapped, he rose and threw on his heavy cloak, not bothering to change out of his bedclothes.
'If Tezzeret wants to see me before I'm done convalescing,' he explained, 'then he can damn well live without the formalities.'
By the time they'd reached the office door, however, and Jace heard the muffled sound of Tezzeret ranting at Paldor within, he began to wish he had taken the time to clean up and change, if only to put this off a little
