will know you are their equal.' 'I-' A great howl from beyond the camp cut her off, and everyone seated round the fire stiffened. The wolves stopped their pacing and stood still, only their ears moving.
'The sentries-' said one of the elves beside the omah nin. The wind, which had blown out of the north all day, suddenly rose to a tumultuous gale and blew up a great cloud of snow. The fire went out, and as darkness gripped them, Jalan grabbed his mother. She could feel him trembling beside her. Amira felt the belkagen rise beside her and heard his incantation. A moment later the green fire from his staff lit the camp, reflecting off the snow in the air so that it seemed as if they were suspended in a spring-green cloud. The wind shrieked even harder, and the belkagen shouted, 'No one move! Be still!' A cackle came from somewhere in the blizzard. It was one of the most inhuman sounds Amira had ever heard, like the sound of breaking icicles given life and a gleeful malice. 'Behind me!' shouted the belkagen as he stepped away from the main body of the camp, his staff held high, the flames on its tip blazing like an emerald star. 'Everyone back! Stay behind my light!' The wind blew even stronger, sending the belkagen's great cloak billowing behind him. Amira could hear him shouting but could not understand the words. The gale pummeled them, blowing no longer from the north but switching direction again and again. Amira thought it was beginning to slacken a bit, but then she realized that it was only gathering in the darkness just beyond the reach of the belkagen's light. Amira watched in horror as the wind gathered into a single cyclone, dozens of feet high. It stayed in one spot, gathering snow, ice, leaves, and other bits of debris as it swayed back and forth. Gripping her staff, Amira began to form the words of a spell.
'Be still!' said the belkagen. 'I beg you, Lady.' Out of the snow, a small form staggered, leaning heavily upon a gnarled staff dangling with thorns and bits of hair and bone. She stepped into the green light, and Amira saw that it was indeed a she-a hideous old crone, her skin blue as a drowned corpse, the flesh round her rheumy eyes black with decay. She seemed about Amira's height, but bent over as she was, Jalan could have looked down on her. Gripped in one hand she was dragging a pale, silver-haired body-one of the Vil Adanrath, either dead or unconscious; Amira could not be sure. The old crone came forward until she was only a few paces from the belkagen, then she spat. 'Ach! Cursed wolf-elf. Blech! Who could eat such a thing?' She dropped the unconscious sentry into the snow, sniffed the air, and fixed her eyes on everyone gathered around the dead fire. 'But I do smell a human. Tasty manflesh.' The belkagen lowered his staff, and it seemed to glow even brighter as he spoke. 'There is no meal for you here, Tselelka. Leave our sentry there and be off.' The old woman cackled and thrust her staff toward them, and a great deluge of hail and ice fell with a loud roar. Only a few shards hit before the belkagen raised his own staff, spoke a harsh incantation, and a half-globe shield, faintly sparkling, covered them all. The old woman stamped her foot, and the ice storm died away. 'Kwarun. It is you, eh?
I feared as much. Damn and damn. I thought you were meddling in the south these days.' The belkagen lowered his staff, and the magic shield flickered away. 'How was your hunting this season, Tselelka?'
'Pfah. No more than a few gems and an amulet. Hardly worth my time, though the amulet will give me something to puzzle over this winter.
What might you be up to, old meddler?' 'Our business is none of your concern.' 'If you're here, your business is Winterkeep. Tselelka is old, but she's no fool. And only fools find themselves at Winterkeep after the first snow falls.' 'You're here.' 'I am leaving.' The belkagen fixed her with a hard glare. 'Then don't let us keep you. But leave our hunter behind. If you've hurt him, I'll make finding you my first order of business come spring.' The old crone cackled. She seemed genuinely pleased. 'Kwarun, you always did know how to warm a girl's heart. Don't worry. I took no more than a nibble out of your watchdog. He can tell the rest of his litter it's a love bite from old Tselelka.' Amira pushed her way forward. 'You've come from Winterkeep, old woman. What is there?' Tselelka's eyes lit with a sudden fire at the sight of Amira. Her nostrils flared and she licked her lips as she took an eager step forward. The belkagen stepped in front of Amira and pushed her back. 'Back, hag! I said you'll find no meal here.' The old woman scowled, and the hunger in her eyes only seemed to increase.
'Cruel, Kwarun. Poor old Tselelka's had nothing but rats and worse for months. Haven't had a bit of manflesh since last summer, and this one smells sweet.' 'I said no, Tselelka. Now be gone.' The old woman craned her neck to try to catch a glimpse of Amira. 'Give old Tselelka a taste and I'll answer your question, girlie.' The belkagen flicked his staff and said, 'Crithta!' White fire shot from his staff and struck the ground in front of the old woman. Tselelka shielded her eyes and stepped back from the steaming hole in the snow before her.
'Missed, old meddler!' 'I hit where I aimed,' said the belkagen. He lowered his staff, pointing the end right at the old woman. 'And the next one will hit as well. Now off with you! You and your orglash!'
The hag looked at the belkagen through narrowed eyes. 'I hope we meet again, meddler, when Tselelka is rested and fed. I hope you survive your latest folly so that I can teach you some manners. Flee Winterkeep. Listen to the wind, and perhaps we'll meet again.' The old woman motioned to the cyclone behind her, which suddenly grew and spread, hitting everyone with galeforce winds and blinding them in the snow. Amira had a spell half cast when the wind died away and the snow settled. The old hag was gone, leaving the senseless sentry on the ground. 'Listen to the wind?' Amira asked. 'What's that mean?'
'Listen,' said Haerul. Amira did. With the orglash gone, the north wind had returned, but now it seemed colder, and besides the hissing of the snow, Amira could almost swear she heard voices, fell and dark, chanting at the back of the wind.
Far away, on the tattered edges of the storm, a long tear opened in the clouds, and the waxing moon shone through like a baleful eye peeking through a torn curtain. Its pale light reflected off miles of steppe, now covered with a fresh blanket of white. On the very edge of the moon's light, the blanket of snow rose, shedding snow in places as the ground rose to a great height-a high hill shaped like a broken and weathered fang that had long since given up biting at the sky. The Mother's Bed. At its summit, amid a thick grove of trees that even now still bore green, a large rock leaned out of the soil, a great crack forming a cave at its base. Gyaidun, all alone, no sacrifice in hand, watched that yawning darkness a long time. He remembered the words spoken only three days ago. 'Hro'nyewachu will be hungry,' the belkagen had said. 'If you have no gift…' 'What?' Amira had asked.
'Feed Hro'nyewachu or she will feed on you,' Gyaidun had told her.
'What kind of Oracle is this?' 'I told you,' the belkagen said. 'She is a being of need-both in fulfilling and needing to be fulfilled.
Nothing comes free. Blood for blood.' 'So be it,' said Gyaidun. 'Blood for blood.' He raised his knife and walked into the hungry darkness.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The Endless Wastes
Dawn was no more than a dim gloom bleeding through the deep darkness. Huddled near the fire, unable to sleep, Amira clutched her staff tight. In the back of her mind, she knew that far beyond the storm the sun was rising in the east. Part of her welcomed the knowledge that somewhere out there, light still shone through open skies and brought warmth to the land, even if she could not feel it here. But the foremost part of her mind dreaded the coming of dawn. At first light-or what would pass for it today-the last of the scouts would return, and they would set their plan into motion. Regret and worry tugged at her heart, and she cursed herself for agreeing to the belkagen's plan. Not the taking of the fight to the enemy. In that, she was steadfast. But after the hag's departure, their council had resumed, and after much debate, the old elf had put forth his plan.
'The Vil Adanrath should attack Iket Sotha in force. Be seen. Draw our enemies to you.' He hesitated-in hindsight Amira knew why-then looked to her. 'You should lead them, Lady Amira.' She opened her mouth to respond, but Leren beat her to it. 'Her? The people speak of the prowess she showed in battle, but outlanders do not lead the Vil Adanrath.' 'Lady Amira led the forces of her people against the Horde,' said the belkagen. 'None doubt her courage or prowess. But many days ago she was taken captive by an oathless slaver. A man little more than a common bandit bound her and made her his slave.'
Amira considered pointing out that she'd been taken by surprise and that Walloch had been much more than a 'common bandit.' A slaver he might have been, but he'd studied the lore of Raumathar for years and had turned out to be quite a formidable wizard in his own right. All this was true, and although it stung her pride, she kept her mouth shut. In this, she agreed with Leren. Let the Vil Adanrath fight their own way. Her place was with Jalan. 'But,' the belkagen continued,
