Farthest Reach by Richard Baker Page B

to this place who would not instantly trap me here.”
    “You could be trapped here now,” Sarya said, nodding at her binding circle.
    “Only if you wished to betray me,” Malkizid replied, “and I would advise you to carefully consider any such course of action, for the consequences would be severe. If nothing else, you would find me much less forthcoming with my secrets of mythalcraft if you thought to coerce me.”
    Sarya weighed the devil’s words, comparing them with what she thought she knew.
    “I will not betray you, Malkizid. I only seek to protect myself.” She indicated the mythal stone with a flick of her wing and asked, “Now, how do we proceed?”
    “First,” said Malkizid, “I will show you how to inspect the mythal’s very structure and identify the properties that are useful, those that are dangerous, and those that you can modify with some work. Then, we will make you the mistress of this mythal, so that no one else can contest your mastery of the device or sever you from it in the way Myth Glaurach’s mythal was taken from you. Now that we have learned that your enemies can do such a thing, I see no reason to allow it to happen again.”

CHAPTER FIVE
    19 Mirtul, the Year of Lightning Storms
     
    The first portal led to a ruined chamber high on the shoulders of an icy, windswept mountain. The bitter cold struck Araevin the instant he stepped through the magical gate, and the sting of wind-driven snow and the roar of the storm left him barely able to see or hear at all in the first moments after he arrived. He threw up one arm to shield his eyes, and peered at the old stonework around him.
    “Araevin!” Ilsevele shouted to make herself heard above the wind. “Where are we?”
    “I don’t know!” he called back.
    Araevin finally blinked his eyes clear. The others stood around him, backs to the wind, holding cloaks close around their throats as the garments flapped and fluttered. Narrow window slits looked out over a scene of magnificent desolation, a cloud-wracked sea of black peaks and deep valleys. The chamber—and presumably, whatever structure it was a part of-actually stood well above the cloud layer. Sunlight streamed into the room, painfully bright.
    About the same time of day as before, Araevin noted. We haven’t moved terribly far to the east or the west. What mountains of such size stand near Myth Glaurach? The Nether Mountains, but they are not so tall. The Spine of the World, or maybe … ?
    “I think these are the Ice Mountains,” he told his companions. “Two hundred miles north of Myth Glaurach, perhaps? It’s only a guess, though.”
    “We can’t stay here long,” Starbrow replied. “Can we return through the portal?”
    Araevin turned to examine the blank stone face of a gateway, framed by a similar rellana vine device.
    “Yes,” he replied, “but we’ll need rellana again. I’ve got the rest of the blossoms if we need to go back.”
    “It’s not so bad here,” Maresa observed. The genasi seemed more at home in the frigid air and howling wind than Araevin could believe. Her cloak hung from her shoulders, ruffling gently in the wind that streamed the others’ cloaks like pennants behind them, and her long white hair drifted gently. She was a creature of the elemental air, and she was well suited for high places and strong winds. “So what do we do now?”
    “Explore,” said Araevin. “See if we can find any other portals the daemonfey might have used, or a trail or path leading away from this place.”
    Starbrow shifted Keryvian so that the heavy sword’s hilt was close to his hand. He looked out the window slit at the steep slopes beyond.
    “There might not be a road, Araevin. All the daemonfey have wings—maybe they just flew off from here.”
    “We’ll consider that possibility when we have to.” Araevin looked around the tower. The row of windows overlooking the mountain slope below stood to his left. To his right a broad swath of the