A Sword from Red Ice

Raif ducked his head to avoid a low slung cedar bow. Out of habit he glanced over at Addie, reassuring himself that all was well with the little cragsman. Addie's gaze was focused on the way ahead, reading the paths between the trees, searching out all potential routes.

Perhaps there was a point where Bludd, the Racklands and the Want met? Addie had said the Bludd borders were uncertain this fit: northeast; and. Raif himself had firsthand knowledge of how intangible the margins of the Great Want could be. Perhaps here it dipped south? That might explain why the lake was difficult to find. If any part of it lay within the Want then it was no wonder Bluddsrnen could ride right past it If they didn't there was a chance they would never be seen again.

Feeling one of the leeches stir against his back, Raif shivered and spat out the grizzly remains of the liver. He was wearing two layers of trenchlandcr skins beneath the Orrl cloak, and he had tucked neither of them beneath his gear belt. That way when the gorged leeches disengaged they'd end up falling onto the ground, and not hanging around his waist. Like yesterday. It was possibly the strangest piece of wisdom he'd ever learned.

Knowing he had a short tolerance for leech thoughts, Raif turned his mind back to the Red Ice. If there was a possibility that Thomas Argola's words were right, then there should be a fourth border. Sull. Bhidd. Want. What was the fourth? Was there something he was missing? The Rack lands stretched from the Breaking Grounds to the Sea of Souls; the Trenchlands were contained within them. Did that mean something? Did the Trenchland border come into play?

"Addie," he said. "Where does the Trenchlander border lie?"

The cragsman shrugged. He was in the process of subtly adjusting their route, turning them due north into a mixed stand of spruce and white pine. "Trenchlands just a name. The lowlands around Hell's Town have been carved by the Flow—that's where it gets its name. There's no border as such."

Raif nodded, disappointed. "Is there any way we can tell when we're on the border between Sull and Bludd?"

Addie looked at him. Flawless had given the cragsman the same directions as he had given Raif, and Addie had probably already considered this problem himself. "In this part of the world the only way to know for sure whose land we're standing on is if someone steps out from the trees and attacks us. If that happens we should be sure to take a real good look at them."

Raif fell silent. He fellt stung by Addie's tone. Had he insulted the cragsmanby asking the question? It was hard to judge things with Addie now.

They stopped three times before noon for leech duty. One of the creatures wouldn't attach itself to Raif's back;, it looked as sick as a leech could look. Addte returned it to the jar, but they were both thinking the same thing: Spoilage had not been factored into the equation.

At noon they had a good meal of roasted venison and salted hard-bread that had been traded from the Trenchlanders. The cold was numbing so they ate with their gloves on. Afterward they greased their skin and slid on face masks. As they headed out, the first of the cedars exploded in the valley below them. The woodpeckers fell silent and the only sound was Raif s and Addie's boots crunching frozen snow.

After a few hours the land began to rise and warp, and bare rock broke through the forest duff. The cedars were not as tall here, and enough light penetrated the canopy to support groundcover; hagber-ries, bearberries, and balsam. Raif perceived animals denning beneath rotting logs and between cracks in the rocks. Their heartbeats were faint and winter-slow.

Raif tried not to think about his own heart, tried not to recall how easily it had failed him. One moment beating, the next stopped. A blink of an eye, a failure of muscle to contract: that's all it took to kill a man.

He forced his mind elsewhere, and ended up considering the name Yiselle No Knife had given to the Red Ice. Mish'al Nij. A place of no cloud, yet the lamb brothers had named it the Valley of Cold Mists.

More trees exploded as the sun moved into the west. One cracked right on the path, its trunk fracturing from the crown to the base as if it had been hit with a giant ax. The sudden release of pitch and gases made the air smell like a primed firestack.

As the sky grew dark Addie began to rest more heavily on his stick, and Raif thought about calling an early halt. Progress had not been good; nearly every hour they'd had to stop to apply leeches and Addie was getting no quicker with practice. His hands froze, Raifs back froze, the leeches were starting to get sluggish. Just as Raif opened his mouth to speak, Addie raised his stick.

"Stand of red pines beyond the rocks,"