moons as nothing more than a taunt offered by dead, vanished gods.
With the coming of full spring, the tribe's needs had sent Cory outside again. She had always had a gift for helping her people. From her youngest days, she could remember feeling the power in the world around her, the wild sorcery that dwelled in the wind, in the water, in the wood of the trees. She knew that she had a unique gift, and she enjoyed sharing it, finding fish even when the most experienced net-men failed, or drawing up water from a spring that the elders had deemed worthless. Unfortunately, that confidence had led her to make a few misplaced boasts-like this failed hunt today. Coryn froze suddenly, her thoughts and daydreams vanishing in an instant of alarm. Every sense tingled alertly. She looked around, saw nothing except the rock and snow of the landscape. Her nostrils sniffed carefully, but she smelled only the melt, the wetness of spring.
Yet she was certain that danger-an enemy-was near. She listened and smelled some more, turned her head slowly to look around, but saw no sign of the dread walrus-men…
She had no doubt that she was in fact menaced by a band of thanoi. Concentrating, trying to quell her rapidly rising fear, she let her senses run free. The wild sorcery spoke to her in the wind, even through the water in the melting snow. She explored those avenues, and as the wind and water spoke to her, she formed a clear picture in her mind. Coryn realized that there were nearly a dozen thanoi lurking nearby. Some of them were at the crest of the gorge, hiding out of sight, while others crept along the upstream canyon wall, using the many rocky outcrops for concealment. All were stalking her.
A whisper of panic started in the back of her mind, but Coryn roughly forced it away. As coolly as possible she considered tactics: The thanoi were on two sides of her, the churning river on the third. That gave her one narrow route of escape, down the valley on this side of, and running parallel to, the stream.
Every nerve in her body screamed: 'Run!' But that would only invite immediate doom-she needed to use the element of surprise. 'Be patient. Be smart,' she counseled herself, forcing her fear away, breathing slowly to restore her sense of calm.
Coryn stretched, arching her back, yawning as if she had no worries. She bent double, flexing her waist to the front and to each side, reaching her hands over her head as if she was working out the kinks of a long rest. Her bow remained ready, where she could snatch it in a second. All the while, she studied the terrain out of the corners of her eyes, picking out a path that would let her sprint at full speed, not too close to the precipice. She leaned over again, touching her toes, picturing the brutish, tusked walrus-men coiling their sinewy limbs, preparing to attack.
Never before had she been so close to these brutal creatures, the traditional foes of the Icefolk. Oh, she had seen a few of their tusked skulls, and once even the body of a bull thanoi that had ventured too close to the village, a predator that her father and the other hunters had killed with a volley of arrows. Even dead, it had been a vile and disgusting sight, with its thick and flabby skin, tiny eyes, and grotesque tusks.
Now real panic began to churn in her belly, and she could tell that the thanoi were pressing closer. Blunt, calloused fingers tightened around the wooden hafts of stone-headed spears, as webbed feet braced themselves for a lethal charge.
With practiced artistry, she shrugged the strung bow off her shoulder, her hand snatching a heavy hunting arrow from her quiver. In an instant the missile was drawn, the bowstring taut against her cheek as she aimed along the crest of the bluff. No thanoi was in sight, but here was where the young Icefolk girl might give her hunters a nasty surprise.
Coryn called upon the power of wild magic, the sorcery of the natural world. She felt the power surge with each breath, every gust of wind, and she drew that airy power to herself, shaped it with her will. That sorcery spoke to her, showed her the positions of the three thanoi closest to her. They lay just beyond the overhead crest. Already their limbs were coiled; their tusked faces were rising to attack.
In one smooth gesture she drew her bowstring back and pivoted so that she was aiming uphill. She let fly, the
Her spell was not completed. Now came a gust of air, a blast of wild magic that spewed out of the gorge and swept across the precipitous ledge. The wind caught the three arrows like a trio of invisible fists, twisting, forcing them around, veering their flights. The wooden missiles, their heads razor sharp- and very precious-steel, reversed course as they crested the hill, swerving back down to drive out of Coryn's sight, vanishing behind the large boulder.
Immediately the young woman was rewarded by beastly shrieks of shock and pain. In her mind she could see the three walrus-men pierced, shot through their backs before they had climbed to their feet. In various stages of dying, they thrashed about in the snow, red blood staining the white slush.
Coryn took off, running at full speed. There was no magic fueling her flight, but her grace and strength carried her like a mountain goat along the steeply sloping side wall of the gorge. Behind and above her, the other thanoi uttered barks of alarm and agitation, but the pursuit had been delayed for precious seconds by her preemptive attack. A heavy spear, tipped with a head of sharpened stone, careened off of a rock as she raced by, while another flew past her ear and landed with a
Snatching a look up the slope, she almost screamed at the sight of a hulking walrus-man loping into view. His face was ugly, with wickedly curved tusks jutting forward from overhanging jowls, and small, red eyes shining from pockets of droopy fat. He barked and woofed shrilly.
The mere glimpse of that horrible visage propelled Coryn to even greater speed. Her foot skidded in the wet snow, and she almost stumbled, catching herself with a hand on an outcrop of rock. She pulled herself up onto the boulder and sprang across a span of snow to the next limestone surface, then sprinted along a stretch of flat, dry rock. Grunts and pants came from above and behind her, sounding terribly close, but she dared not glance back- even a moment's distraction might send her tripping through a disastrous fall.
Behind her she heard a shriek of rage and the tumbling of a body through the snow ending in a loud splash. She knew that another of her pursuers had fallen, but that was little comfort as she raced along a precarious slope, snow sliding away beneath her moccasins with each step. She veered downward, following the curve of the gorge wall. Still she dared not look back-she could only run!
Too late, she saw the large wall of stone rising in her path, a twenty-foot barrier too steep for her to climb. The base of the precipice was a tangle of large, broken boulders, a tumble that dropped straight to the edge of the churning, surging stream. That Whitewater torrent was death, she knew-even her wild magic would not protect her from being crushed against the huge rocks that littered the stream.
She had no choice but to turn upward again, scrambling to climb the snowy slope. Coryn clawed with her fingers, pumped her legs, kicked each foot as hard as she could into the cold, wet surface. The barks of the walrus-men erupted anew, with an unmistakable element of triumph to their noise.
Something hit her hard in the side, a massive body bowling her over as one of the thanoi hurled himself upon her, diving down the snowy slope. She cried out as she felt a tusk jab her shoulder, then turned and punched the bestial face full upon its blunt nose. She smell the stink of old fish, felt the cold snow on her back as the walrus-man pressed her down heavily. He was powerful, too strong for her to push him away. Those nasty tusks pushed against her chest as he leaned down over her, and she gasped in pain, struggling to draw a breath. Her hands, taut fists, pushed at the tusks, but couldn't budge them away. The leering creature pushed downward, driving the sharp tips harder against her skin.
Snow was all around, white and icy, so bright that she could barely see. Out of that whiteness, a surprising notion came into her mind, a picture of a word that she had read somewhere. She didn't know what it meant, had never said it aloud before, but somehow-right then-she knew it was a perfect word. She had just enough air left to bark the sound, the word exploding from her mouth.
Coryn felt a momentary disorientation, an exhilarating sense of freedom, and then everything changed. She woke to find herself still lying on her back, still wet and cold, but the sun was gone… vaguely she realized that she was in a hut, with a crackling fire nearby. She all but sobbed in relief when she looked up to see Umma peering down curiously, rocking in her chair.
'Dear girl!' said the old woman. 'What on Krynn are you doing lying on my floor?'
