“Tell him that I’m honored to meet him and that we thank him for his gracious welcome.”
Rollar translated this, and Hegmun responded.
“He says that we have traveled a long way, and we must be tired. He invites all of us into his Great Hall for mead and roast meat, but you, he says, must first go and see the Wise Woman, alone.”
“How will I talk to her without you there?”
Rollar asked Hegmun this question.
“He says that she speaks the common tongue. You’ll be fine. You must go all the way to the far end of Hothgrum. Follow the road past the Great Hall to the end of the village. The sentries there will let you out. Once you’re outside the gate, you must follow a winding path into the woods. The Wise Woman lives alone in a cabin there. You’ll recognize it right away; there will be bones and charms hanging all over the place.”
“So, the rest of you get wined and dined while I trek out into the icy wilderness to go and talk to some toothless hag.” I grinned at Rollar. I wasn’t exactly disappointed. After all, I’d been waiting months to speak with this Wise Woman.
Rollar shrugged, obviously not understanding my humor. “We must respect the chieftain’s wishes, Lord Vance. Hopefully, you won’t be occupied too long with the Wise Woman. Oh, and uh, one thing I should mention: it is customary to enter the hut of a Wise Woman sky-clad.”
“Sky-clad? What the fuck does that mean?”
Rollar chuckled. “Unclothed, Lord Vance. Clad only in the air and sky.”
The thought of getting naked in this kind of cold was not particularly appealing.
I told the rest of them that I’d be back shortly, then dismounted and walked through the village to the gate at the far end. I made my way along a winding path that led through snow-covered fir trees up to a large log cabin, around two miles out of Hothgrum. This was certainly the residence of some sort of mystic. Skulls of various animals—and people—hung from the trees and branches nearby, as did dreamcatchers and other strange talismans. A wooden chest lay outside of the front door, marked with a crude carving of what looked like shoes, pants, and a coat.
I stripped down before I dumped my clothes and armor inside the wooden chest. My breath was misting in large puffs in front of my face, and the cold felt like it was piercing my skin like thousands of needles. With a shivering fist, I rapped on the door.
“Raiser of the Dead!” called a female voice from within the cabin. “I have been expecting you. Enter.”
To my surprise, it was not the croak of an old crone but rather the clear, bell-like voice of a young woman. Her command of the common tongue seemed to be pretty fluent too. I opened the door and was hit by a blast of welcome warmth, but the interior of the cabin was dim, and all I could see of the Wise Woman was a crouched figure near the hearth, stoking the fire. She was clothed in a dark-gray hooded cloak, upon which a great many runes were embroidered in white thread.
“Come, enter the realm of the spirits,” she said.
Chapter Eleven
I stepped in and closed the door behind me, grateful to be out of the bitter cold. The cabin was large and cozy. Hundreds of jars of herbs, potions, balms, and other such things were stored on shelves along the walls, along with plenty of bones, skulls, different types of rocks, bits of odd-looking wood, and a few different gems. The smell of incense, infused with some other sort of aromatic herb, was thick in the air. Thankfully, the Wise Woman herself smelled nothing like Drok. In fact, I couldn’t detect any hint of body odor or any unpleasant stenches at all in here. It smelled good.
The Wise Woman remained crouched, her face covered by her hood, when she spoke again. “Before we talk—and we have many things of which we must speak—you must be purified of any lingering evil that may have attached itself to you along the way here. And I must purify myself of any worries or concerns that will detract from my focus. Come, follow me, Raiser of the Dead.”
She stood and walked through a door at the back of the room. I didn’t really have much choice but to follow her, so I headed through the door. It led to a kitchen where delicious-smelling hearty soup was simmering in an iron pot over a fire. She kept going though, and opened the kitchen door—which led back out into the cold and snow. Shit.
I hesitated in the doorway. “The purification can’t be done indoors?”
“No,” she said firmly. “It needs to be done here. You will be warm enough during the purification process. This way.”
Well, no one could fault me for not following barbarian customs. I followed her out into the snow. She led me on a winding path up the hill for a few dozen yards, where the trees were thickly crowded and the snow was knee-deep. My teeth were chattering, and my legs felt like they would never thaw out when all this was over. I focused on the supposed weapon this Wise Woman possessed that would help me kill the Blood God. If she didn’t have it, and this purification ritual was all for nothing, then I might have to consider taking her soul.
The path turned a corner around a large boulder. When I rounded it, I was surprised to see a small pool with steaming hot water before me.
“This,” the Wise Woman said, “is the Purification Pool. Here we will cleanse ourselves before the ceremony.”
“Ceremony?” More barbarian customs. Ugh. This had better be worth it.
“It is important, Raiser of the Dead, that you perform this ceremony with me.”
“You can call me Vance. I mean, ‘Raiser
