Chapter 28

Day 75:

“Sygraid and I will go first.” John told Rorik as they stood at the exit to the Valkyrie’s no-longer-secret passage.

“Yes lord, and I will keep the group together as we move.” Rorik acknowledged. “I await your signal.”

Only way through it is to do it. John mentally steeled himself.

He Scanned the valley ahead. It was a wide gully between peaks, still snow covered and dotted with ice-coated rocks. It sloped up to a small ridge in the direction they wanted to go and offered absolutely no protection from an attacker. Now that he knew what to look for, he spotted the Valkyrie’s dragons hidden as a series of snowbanks a little ways off. Unfortunately, they weren’t going to be flying out of this one.

All except Hal, and even he doesn’t know that’s how.

“Let’s go.” He grunted, leading the way into the icy wind.

He and Sygraid spread out, each taking a ridge to each flank. Between the improved eyesight her helm gave her and his own True Seeing, they had the best chance of spotting problems before having to face them. They moved to the ridge and examined the far side.

The backside was steeper, dropping down before leveling out as a shallow saddle that meandered between the mountaintops. There wasn’t any trail to follow, just a general direction (towards the setting sun) and an estimate of how far to go before turning south. John had merely nodded when Brunhyldar told him it was a week’s hard march before the terrain below the Mountain Wall rose up enough for them to have a chance at descending out of the higher altitudes.

“There are perhaps three or four spurs of land which you may use to turn south.” The Valkyrie leader told him. “You will know to turn when you see the mountain that is taller than any nearby, and is missing half its peak.”

She’d not appeared surprised when he told her the results of their contentious Leadership Council. Half a day of discussion, recriminations and the occasional shouting match resulted in a decision to split up. They brought the people in, filling the brazier room to capacity with group after group as John explained their situation. Admitting to the sea of faces that he’d led them into a no-win situation, time and time again was emotionally draining. Letting down so many people was, in many ways harder than facing the limitations his injuries in the military had imposed on him, had been. He refused to use the word ‘cripple’ to describe himself.

He offered them four choices:

One, those who were willing could attempt the Challenge, just as the group they’d already sent. He had no idea how those others had fared, but this was a task they could actually fight their way out of. After hearing their other choices, several hundred now opted for this path. Families who wished to handed off young children to those going another way. All three remaining Captains, plus Ranveng and the Warden contingent elected to take this one too. They’d been livid at John’s treatment of the Valkyrie. For a group raised to venerate the War-Maidens, his actions were inexcusable. He’d shattered the men’s faith in him. Though John knew intellectually that acting like a jerk was not likely to win him any friends, he found that he still harbored an immense reservoir of anger at his ex-wife’s betrayal. Had he said something like that during the Robin Sage field problem, the cadre would’ve rightly flunked him on the spot, assuming the role players didn’t drop him first. Try as he might though, he couldn’t find it in him to regret expressing that rage at another female desertion.

The second choice was to take the Deep Road passage they’d dug out. Less than a hundred people opted for this, and none of the leadership. A few of Cacy’s miners had raised their hands when they began segregating the groups for each Door. John warned them as strongly as he knew how that they were likely to be killed or enslaved or worse by the Dwimar, and a few reconsidered. But in the end maybe sixty elected to go that way. He also explained that they would close that Door once the group was through, and no matter what weren’t going to reopen it. The key would be elsewhere.

It would be with the third choice. Rorik, John, Sygraid and Trebuchet would lead the rest through the Valkyrie’s ‘secret’ passage and the rough high ground beyond. Their group was by far the largest, numbering well over seven hundred, including all the children under four. It was conversely the least protected, with only fifty of the Watchmen electing to take this path. John had ensured they knew the dangers, from the unrelenting cold and probable snow, to the altitude, and the enormous mountain giants. Families who split up were told that upon exit, the Captains would be able to tell where Rorik ended up. Any who made the trek would be welcomed back with open arms by whoever managed to make it through the peaks. Their aim was the northernmost Raider King settlement, the last harbor that never froze during the winter. A place called Last Refuge.

The fourth option, which no one picked, was to wait for orcs to finish battering their way inside and fight for their lives to escape back down the valley towards the End. The Adepts had finished filling the entire ‘S’ curved tunnel with ice from ground to ceiling. They dropped the emergency iron slab to backstop the ice plug. In addition, they dismantled the Door raising mechanism. The wheel, pulleys and chain were all taken into the brazier room and turned over to the Valkyries. The group taking option three were not leaving any of their nearly-nonexistent provisions, so any who chose this would likely starve to death first anyway.

Hal alone elected to accept the Valkyrie’s offer of transport south. The trip would be made while he was unconscious, but they promised to take him to the outskirts of Two Courts. The Cambion claimed he ‘hadn’t been warm in weeks!’ John was disappointed, and the others looked disgusted with someone they thought they could count on. But Hal had reached the end of what he would endure for the bond of friendship. He declared his intention to try to find passage out into the Bay of Chaos with an eye towards Challenging Typhon, the Sapphire Sea Dragon who resided in the whirlpool at the base of the Cyclone Tower.

“I hope to see you again, my friend.” Hal told John. “You should consider getting one of the Raider Kings to bring you to the Tower. I would welcome Challenging in your company a second time.”

“I just hope I can get these people to some kind of safety first.” John replied. “I’m not sure I can plan that far ahead at this point. Besides, I’m guessing it won’t be as simple as asking for a ride.”

From a band of Viking-style pirates. No problem. Yeah, right!

Hal scoffed. “I have seen you challenge the local lord in his own fortress, and helped you kill an orc Horde Lord! I do not see a mere Raider King stopping you.”

“Fare well, my friend.” John wished him.

“And you, lord Shon, my only friend.” Hal clasped forearms.

Though they were angry with John, the Captains all swore to lead those who passed the Challenge to wherever Rorik resided. The Watchmen who accompanied them were told of the amulets’ importance, and charged to carry the markers out if none of the three made it.

“Keep the Watch.” Rorik called, as the last one parted ways with him.

“I keep the Watch.” Gaybe replied, eyes shining, before turning away.

John’s plan was simple: he and Sygraid would scout ahead and to the flanks. They were the best equipped to handle the cold, so they could move more quickly without worrying about frostbite. Treb and a third of their Watchmen would take the vanguard position. Their job was to forge a path through the rough terrain, with Treb using his powers to solidify any powder so the people could walk more easily on top of it, and to shore up any weak (or melted) points with ice. The youth’s worgh, Shredder was nearly full-grown, though smaller than normal. There just hadn’t been enough for it to eat while they were trapped. The animal trotted at its master’s heels, eyes and nose alert for anything that might threaten the boy.

Rorik brought up the rear, with another third. They hoped John or Syg would find any giants long before the dim-witted monsters spotted the ragged column, but if not the Commander was to use Impyruum’s death enchantment to keep an ambusher from killing any of the refugees from the rear. They kept a decent interval between themselves and the noncombatants, which would hopefully give help time to arrive before people started dying.

They split up the remaining third into a squad for each flank. The Watchmen were told to follow John’s or Sygraid’s signals as the two searched for enemies. All hoped this would be enough to keep everyone safe from any violent threats.

Now they just had to find food, and stay warm without over exerting themselves.

They killed their first mountain giant that afternoon.

John spotted the thing first. Ever since finding the hidden Doors he’d worked to use his Sight nonstop. He should’ve noticed the keyholes long before he finally did. The first week he got headaches constantly, which might’ve also contributed to his unkind demeanor with the Valkyrie. He pushed through, and now found it strange not to see the world as a flavor-filled storm of partly understood impressions. That was how he saw the giant, because it camouflaged itself well in the stark landscape. The thing was a massive ball of animal cunning, vicious cruelty and never-ending hunger. A miasma of its stink floated up into the air while the massive humanoid was still on the other side of the ridge John skirted.

He dropped to his stomach and wiggled up to the military crest. The brute was completely naked, and covered with a thick coat of wiry gray hair all over its massive pale body. The damn thing stood three times as tall as a normal man, almost twice as large as the frost giants he’d seen in the Halls of Valor. He (it was male, a grotesque sight John wished he could erase from memory) carried a femur, probably from another giant, as a weapon while it munched on another, less identifiable appendage. When the giant froze, he practically disappeared from normal sight, so effective was his coloring. Evil, squinting porcine eyes tracked the ridge top where John lay watching.

John froze as well, knowing if he ducked the motion was more likely to attract attention than just staying in place. The giant tilted his head back, nostrils flaring as it took a breath in that John could hear from the top of the slope.

Waiting patiently, John watched the giant slowly crouch and inch his way up the slope at an angle that would take it right into the main column. Well, they needed food anyway. Now they just needed to kill the thing without losing half their fighters in the process.

When he heard the flank squad crunching their way up to him, he waved them to take cover. He crawled back down out of sight to brief them and get Sygraid’s attention. This was going to be tougher than he’d figured. The SOP the two of them had settled on was that unless called in, the other would stay on the opposite side, just to be sure they weren’t surprised by anything attracted by the noise of battle. Sygraid hadn’t wanted to do so, but John overruled her. Now he’d have to eat some crow.

Always trust the man (or woman) on the ground. John reminded himself with chagrin.

He really couldn’t afford to keep making mistakes like that. Neither could those depending on him.

He waved frantically until the Shield-maiden signaled she was en route. John crept up to take another peek at the approaching giant. It looked like the thing had slowed down, but was still going to catch sight of their main body shortly.

“Giant?” Sygraid asked quietly when she was close enough.

She obviously knew how to stalk one of those monsters.

“Yeah.” John described what he’d seen, and where he expected it to crest the ridge.

Nodding grimly, she directed their flanking squad to take position behind the closest outcropping to that spot. She indicated that she would move to take the thing’s attention away from their column, and when the giant engaged John was to slip around behind and use the Tooth and Flesh Cleaver to hamstring it. Carrying both Ayjus and Treb’s spear, Frozen Anchor she had the best chance to survive holding the giant’s attention during the fight. She told the squad she would call for their assault, when she judged the moment was right to keep their foe off balance.

Unfortunately, the giant roared and leaped over the ridge-line before they could get into place. Their only piece of luck was that Sygraid was close enough to launch her spear at the giant’s back as he took off towards the main group. Frozen Anchor’s head pierced the giant’s lower back, and when the butt touched the ground, he jerked to a stop so fast his legs flew out from underneath him.

Calling for the flank squad to surround their downed foe, John sprinted for the seated form. As he crossed the distance, a wave of cold flowed through him to freeze the ground beneath the giant’s legs as he attempted to regain his footing. John would’ve laughed at the comical sight had they not been seconds from disaster but a moment before. The giant couldn’t even turn around, but he turned his head to glare at John as he approached. A massive arm, larger than John’s entire body swatted at him ineffectually.

Staying out of reach, John repeatedly hurled the Tooth into the giant’s back. Flames crawled up his foe’s back as the hirsute form caught fire. The hair provided excellent fuel. By the fifth throw, their enemy was a pyre. Circling around to the front, John watched the giant vainly struggle to free itself, or just to get down into the snow for some relief. When he judged that the giant was sufficiently distracted, John ran in to plant the Tooth’s death spike into a wildly rolling eye. With a massive shudder, the still cooking monster slumped over.

“Make sure it’s dead.” John commanded.

The flank squad, plus the vanguard who ran up during the struggle all jabbed the unresponsive form with their spears.

“You may stop, our enemy is dead.” Sygraid finally said.

John took a look around. Their current spot was terrible from a defensive standpoint, but food was food, and they needed it desperately. Many of the children were struggling already.

“Get this thing butchered. And spread the meat around.” John instructed. “We can’t stay here.”

Twelve children, all under four froze to death that night. They weren’t the last to perish on the journey.

Day 84:

“What do you think, my lord?” Rorik asked, eyeing the group headed their way.

“I think we’re likely to get our butts kicked.” John muttered.

“Why would they kick us in the buttocks?” Treb asked, looking up.

“It’s an expres—sion,” but the youth was already rolling his eyes and returning to his task.

They grow up so fast. Neither of them realized they’d not smiled in days.

The remaining thirty-three fighters, including John, Rorik, Sygraid and Treb were busy fortifying themselves on a small hill around a half-day’s march from Last Refuge. After their messenger was killed out of hand when they dispatched him to request admittance into the Raider King’s town, the armed group withdrew to what they hoped was a more defensible position.

What remained of their main body, just under three hundred souls was hidden in various camouflaged igloos dotting the valley behind them. Putting their people into Adept-created snow and ice shelters, though exhausting for Syg and Treb, was judged to be the only way they had a chance at keeping the children from continuing to die from the cold at night. After seven days of practice though, the two Adepts were getting better at raising the small white domes around each huddled group, without the task sapping their strength too badly. Unfortunately, the shelters only helped at night. During the day, on the march, many of the very young, and a good number of the older people just couldn’t stave off the cold. An unmistakable trail of frozen corpses led from their first night’s camp all the way down the spur they’d walked to escape the upper reaches. Hundreds of their dead lay unburied, but not unlamented.

Of those remaining, many were a hair’s breadth from death’s door. They were starving, and half frozen. But if the Raiders wouldn’t accept them into their fortified enclosure, then John and the others would fight their way inside. They had nothing left to lose. And after so much death, he’d no problem carving his way through the entire company of over a hundred Raiders making their way towards him.

Treb was raising a wall of ice to augment the stones they formed into a bulwark at the crest of the hill. John chose the site carefully. The backside and one side were too steep to easily run up. The front was rocky, and would’ve provided excellent footing for their enemies had the Watchmen not taken the time to pick up every single stone they could for their small fort. Syg then laid a thick coat of ice down each slope. She sprayed a thin layer of snow over the slick sheet, just enough to disguise what lay beneath.