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descend. At the rate they traveled, it could take them another week to cross
that distance. It was only the thought of her animals starving that made her
break her self-imposed mystical silence and conjure a few small items of food:
a meat-pie for Nixa, a small bag of rich grain for Cinnabar, and some carrots
and figs for herself. As she drew the objects out of the mage circle, the
first one she etched since leaving Noviiya, she tensed and waited for the
inevitable to appear.
But nothing did. She flattened herself against the depression in the cliff s
surface and watched the light dusting of snow drift down from the slender
ledge above, coating their rations with glistening crystals.
The trail showed no signs of descending towards Khal after two more days
travel. With a sinking heart Khamsin accepted that perhaps they were lost.
They must have gotten off the main trail during one of the small snow squalls
that temporarily blinded them and they now traveled in circles, up and down
the mountain but getting no closer to their destination. She looked in vain
for something familiar in her surroundings but all the stark landscape looked
the same. She gained no guidance from the stars at night, either, as they
weren t visible through the thick overcast of clouds around her. So she urged
Cinnabar onwards, judging Wintertide now less than a week away.
The trail ended so suddenly, that, snow-blinded, they almost stumbled over
the edge of the cliff. Cinnabar skittered backwards, nickering as Khamsin
plunged, her boots finding nothing solid beneath them. She clung to the reins
in her hands for dear life as the horse dragged her backwards, ignoring Nixa s
claws in his neck.
She lay panting in the snow, her heart pounding. Then she kneeled on the edge
of the cliff and peered over through the snow swirling around them. It was a
sheer drop of hundreds of feet into a white-crested valley. In the distance,
the lights from signal fires glinted, beckoning and she could just make out
the outlines of a great fortress. And the darkness of a lake beyond.
Traakhal-Armin lay before her.
A turn-off or a fork. They must have missed the turn-off, a trail leading
rapidly downwards. They retraced their steps, finally coming upon a narrow gap
in the mountainside. It was a slow descent, narrow and awkward. She wondered
how the Hill-Raider s slim-hooved horses ever made it down the trail. There
must be other trails, she surmised, that would be uncovered after First Thaw.
This one was no doubt used only in emergencies, as it was also undoubtedly the
most treacherous.
Then there was forest around them again and the smell of the pines assailed
her like the aroma of bread baking; warm and reassuring. There were sounds,
too; sounds that had been absent in the mountains, of winds rustling branches
and the occasional calling of a winter bird. Nixa s ears perked at this last
sound, her stomach interpreting what it meant. She bounded ahead, ignoring
Khamsin s remonstrations and only returned after she feasted on her kill. It
wasn t polite, she knew, to eat in front of others when she had nothing to
share with them.
The distance between the cliffs and the castle seemed short as she gazed down
from the trail s end, but it was a trick her eyes played on her due to the
height of the cliffs. So it wasn t until late in the following day, with the
cover of dusk to aid her, that an exhausted and half-frozen form was carried
up to the castle s outer walls on the back of an equally weary and decrepit
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nag, the colors of the Kemmon-Ro clearly visible in the torch light.
The Khalar guard assessed the situation quickly and, calling for aid, allowed
the great gates of the walls to be opened, admitting the unconscious young boy
within.
Khamsin groaned weakly as she was pulled from the saddle.
"Easy, lad," a man s voice said.
She tried to stand and had to lean against him for support.
"Tedmond, Lord Tedmond," she rasped. "I must speak to him. I bring a message
of urgency, from Master Egan, the Kemmon Rey."
The guard nodded as he held her meager weight. She let her head drop forward,
covering her face with her hood.
Go!she told Nixa. She stumbled against the guard, drawing his attention. The
gray cat, secreted in her unlatched saddle bag, jumped to the ground,
scurrying towards the stables. She would find her mistress later. But at the
moment, her existence might elicit unwanted questions.
"Bring him to the hearth room," someone called out. She let herself be
dragged into the castle and up a flight of long stairs.
She was guided into a well-padded chair before a small table, a blazing fire
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