A Sword from Red Ice

Raif bit off his glove, swiveled his arm back and rubbed his shoulder with numb fingers. A point deep in his chest felt hollow. Walking back along the course of his and Addie's footsteps, he searched for the exact spot where he'd looked down to check for the Rift. After a minute or two he thought he found it. His footsteps had been steady, evenly paced and all pointing in the same direction, and then one—just one—went awry. The toe of his left boot had made contact at a slightly different angle to the previous steps and the outside edge that led from it formed a wedge shape as if Raif had been in the process of making a sudden turn. There was no heel mark.

That lack of contact turned Raif cold. It was the difference between life and death.

Was that what a heart-kill felt like?

Nothing.

Springing into motion, Raif followed Addie along the path.

They traveled in silence for the rest of the day, stopping once to eat the remains of last night's ptarmigan and search a likely patch of undergrowth for eggs. The cragsman made a point of not watching over Raif, though if it was possible to keep an eye on someone without looking at them that was what Addie was doing. Raif felt odd. Light and not quite sane. He kept seeing the failed footstep and hearing Traggis Mole say, Swear it.

They reached the stream about an hour before dark. Snowmelt was running in its middle, skirling over rocks and jammed pine cones. They could have jumped it easily—it wouldn't have even needed a run up—but Addie set about walking upstream. The snow was thicker here and there were more dead trees. Raif thought he caught a whiff of woodsmoke, but when he looked to Addie to confirm it the cragsman's face gave nothing away.

"Here," Addie said, coming to a halt a few minutes later. "It's as good a place as any to set camp."

Three big cedars formed a thick triangle of cover hard along the bank. A root from the largest tree cut right across the stream, forming a spillway where the water widened and slowed before tipping over the root branch and continuing on its way. Addie's gaze dared Raif to find fault. Raif did not. Squatting by the spillway, he stripped off his gloves, scooped up two handfuls of water and threw them over his face. The iciness was startling but it didn't alter the lightness in his head.

That night he did not sleep. He suspected Addie didn't get much rest either, for the cragsman had made himself a bed out of pine boughs that crunched every time he rolled over—and they crunched a lot. They were both short-tempered as they took their morning drink of boiled water. Addie told Raif to fill the waterskins with stream water and when Raif didn't jump to the task quick enough for his liking he found fault. Raif dropped the skins in the snow and went for a piss. How was it his fault that he had ended up with a piece of shadow lodged next to his heart?

Addie's spirits improved as the morning wore on. For once it didn't snow and it looked as if the wind might break up the clouds. After they crossed the stream they decided to head out of the trees. Snow dumps were beginning to happen and the thought of being caught under a tree shedding a half-ton of snow was not comforting. Occasionally Addie would dart from the path, checking ground cover, snowbanks and rock piles for nests.

"Raif. Take a look at this."

Raif had gone on ahead while Addie investigated the area surrounding a recently fallen cedar, and Raif had to backtrack to join him. He found the cragsman staring at one of the grounded cedar bows, holding his stick above the foliage like a spear. Only when Raif drew abreast of him did he see it: a cast iron tooth-jawed bow trap built to spring a bear.

"Nearly stepped on the paddle. It was hidden in the branches." Addie shook his head at it. "Fetch me a log. I'm going to trigger it."

Raif pried off one of the thick lower branches of the fallen cedar, and then watched as Addie jabbed it against the paddle. Crack. The branch was crushed to wood chips as the jaws snapped shut.

"Bastards," Addie said quietly. "Lost two sheep to traps like this." Shaking his head, he picked up his walking stick and turned to Raif. "At least now we know we can head to the smoke."

"It's not Sull?"

"They wouldn't insult big game by trapping it. It's not clannish by the looks of it either, though you never know. Could have been traded. What I can say is that men who set this—and it was recently set, see how there's no snow between the coils—are cowards and varmints. And I'll take them over Sull any day."

Raif opened his mouth to speak, but Addie halted him by raising his stick.

"No. We need some medicine for that… that thing in your back. And so help me Gods I'm going to trade for some tea."

Raif didn't have the heart to tell him that he didn't think medicine would work.