the following day if we leave early and aren’t held up by the weather.”
No one responded, but a moment later Vaeren motioned toward Colin to take the lead.
It was not yet dusk when they reached the edge of the tree line, although the temperature had dropped sharply. The climb had been steep, the Rhyssal House guards and the two brothers scouting ahead to find the easiest path. The ground was covered with a dense fall of needles, kept free of the worst of the snow by the hanging branches of the cedars. After the first hour, large outcroppings of rock began to cut through the earth, like bones, riddled with moss and lichen. After reaching the tree line, Vaeren and Aeren sent the others out to find game and wood for a fire, while they searched for a suitable flat section of ground for a camp. One of the plinths of stone was wide enough to serve the purpose, once they brushed it free of the nearly foot-deep snow. Eraeth and Siobhaen began collecting heavy boughs, laid down on the hard stone for use as pallets.
Colin stared up toward the pass, still hidden behind a ridge of the mountain, as the others returned with freshly killed rabbit and enough wood to last the night. As their voices rose into the falling dusk behind him, a chill pressed against Colin’s skin. He shuddered, then heard someone approaching from behind.
Aeren moved up beside him. “You’ve been apprehensive all day,” he said, looking up through the last of the trees at the heavy fields of snow. “What’s bothering you?”
“Nothing that you or the others need be concerned about.”
“But there is something?”
Colin dropped his gaze from the pass. He didn’t want Aeren or the others to worry, but clearly he hadn’t been able to hide his fears as much as he’d thought. “There was much death on these fields of snow, on this ground. That much pain, that much dark and brutal emotion, leaves… a taint, an echo.”
“I’ve passed through Aielan’s Light,” Aeren said. “Lotaern always said it was because I was more sensitive to Her powers, Her workings, than others, so the trial was easier for me. But I’ve sensed nothing here.”
Colin half grunted, half laughed. “I’ve drunk from the Well. It demands a different kind of price. But I passed through here once before, alone, and survived. I don’t expect it to be any more difficult this time.”
“Then you should return to the fire. The rabbit is almost done.”
“Boreaus does know how to roast a rabbit,” Colin said with a false grin.
They awoke to a bitter chill the next morning, mist rising up from the valley below in thick sheets. Colin urged everyone to bundle up against the cold and they all donned heavy boots and their fur-lined coats. As soon as they were ready, he led them to the edge of the tree line and into the drifts of snow beyond.
It took them most of the morning to reach the base of the outcropping of stone that cut off the view of the pass, everyone struggling at first, quickly learning the best way to maneuver through the waist-deep snowbanks beyond. They followed in single file behind Colin, who tried to trample as clear a path as he could to make it easier. The worst part was closest to the base of the outcropping, where the land sloped up at its steepest angle. No one spoke, except for soft curses beneath their breath or the occasional cry or grunt as they lost footing. By midmorning, the mist had burned away completely and the sun reflected harshly off the field of white. Vaeren and some of the others tied a thin cloth over their eyes to keep from being blinded.
Colin spent most of the morning darting glances left and right at the slightest movement or shadow. He could feel time pressing up against him, could feel the events of the past gathering, as if they sensed him, knew that he was susceptible to them. But every shadow, every flicker of movement, every half-caught sound turned out to be a cloud overhead, the flutter of a bird’s wing as it took flight, or his own imagination. By the time he reached the outcropping of stone and rested one hand flat against the pocked granite, he was cursing himself for creating the tension that strained in his shoulders.
And then he rounded the edge of the outcropping, the jagged plinth of rock towering above him, its peak covered in snow, and found a man waiting.
The Alvritshai stood twenty paces away, his lean face darkened by a vicious frown. Dressed in full leather battle armor emblazoned with intricate leatherwork, he stood with arms crossed, one hand hanging above the pommel of his sheathed sword. His cloak billowed in a nonexistent wind in the lee of the rock, his hair blowing back from his face. As Colin drew up short, one hand still against the frigid rock to one side, he noted that the Alvritshai was taller than those he knew, the heraldry and armor more archaic, even the bone structure of the man’s face subtly different.
But what struck him the most was the palpable anger he felt on the air and saw in the man’s eyes. He drew in a sharp breath, unconsciously brought his staff forward and across his body defensively.
They stared at each other. Distantly, Colin heard the faintest echo of swords clashing, of men screaming. Behind, he heard Eraeth and Vaeren gasping as they drew nearer. The sounds of the battle escalated, someone roaring in rage, and behind the lone figure Colin suddenly caught a shudder of movement. A thousand men surged forward. A battle cry rose into the chill winter air. Pennants snapped in a harsh wind as thousands of feet churned the snow-covered fields of the pass into mud-
“What is it?” Eraeth said at Colin’s side.
Colin blinked and the vision of the past vanished, the Alvritshai lord who had stood watching him with such anger and hatred gone. The snow where he had stood was untouched.
Colin exhaled, the sound harsh, but not as tortured as Eraeth’s own breath. Vaeren didn’t fare any better, coming up on the other side. They both stared out over the wide field of snow that had opened up before them, the mountains rising to either side, but dipping down in a shallow saddle of land between two of the peaks-a saddle that hadn’t been visible from the valley below.
“It’s the pass,” Colin said, motioning with his staff.
Eraeth frowned out at the expanse, then back at Colin. “There was something more,” he said. “You looked troubled when I approached.”
Catching the Protector’s gaze, Colin realized Aeren had told him of their conversation the night before. A part of him was irritated, but he should have known.
“I’m fine.”
Eraeth looked doubtful, the rest of the group gathering behind them. Vaeren merely said, “The weather’s held, but I’d rather be inside before the storm hits.”
“What storm?” Petraen asked.
“The one some of us can taste on the air,” Siobhaen answered.
“It’ll hit before dark,” Vaeren added, then turned to Colin. “So where’s the entrance to these halls?”
Colin pointed unerringly to where the snow drifted up the side of the peak to their left. “Up there, near the far side of the pass. I’m certain we’ll have to dig it out. The drifts there are deep.”
“If it’s on the other side of the pass, why can’t we simply descend from there rather than use the halls?”
“Because the route on the far side is too treacherous to risk in winter, or even spring. Especially with a storm coming.”
Vaeren grunted, then pushed away toward the pass. The slope here was gentler, making it easier to plow through the snowpack.
Colin watched silently as the majority of the group ranged out ahead of him, no longer single file. He waited for the figure to return, for the echoes of the battle to reassert themselves, but nothing happened. Yet he didn’t relax.
“So it’s started?” Aeren asked. He’d stayed behind with Eraeth.
“Yes. It’s not as bad as I’d feared it would be.” He caught Aeren’s gaze. “But I’m certain it will get worse before we’ve reached the other side.”
Without waiting for a response, he sank his staff into the snow ahead and stepped forward.
Clouds began to rush in overhead, heavy and black and threatening. The taste of the storm had changed into a prickling weight on the air, but Colin ignored it as he searched the edge of the pass for the telltale markings on the stone of the mountain that would indicate where the stone had been mined. In the end, it was an echo of the past that led him to the correct location, the snow high enough to cover all evidence of the tunnel’s mouth. But the snow couldn’t hide the stream of Alvritshai warriors in ancient armor as they slaughtered the last of Lord Gaurraenan’s men, then formed up in solid ranks before the opening and marched inside. Colin shuddered, a wave of sickening heat passing through him, like that of a fever. He shoved the sensation away as he pointed with the staff and said, “There. Dig there,” then spent some time regaining his composure. He waved Eraeth’s concerned look away curtly.
