that he had been kidnapped, rendered unconscious, and spirited off to the mountains. Breathing white clouds, he got unsteadily to his feet.
“Who are you and why have you brought me here?”
His captor gave an amused snort. “Two questions that require more answers than I have time or inclination to provide. Indeed, the second of them may not yet have an adequate answer…”
“I will not listen to such games…”
“In that case you may call me Qothan for now, but it would be more important for you to take more notice of your surrounding, Captain Ondene,” the gaunt man said, pointing over Ondene’s shoulder.
“What do you mean by my ‘surroundings’?” he said, turning to look.
Before him were snow-covered fields and a few steadings spaced along the banks of a wide river which narrowed towards a large bay. On the other side was a good-sized town from whose chimneys a thousand smokey trails threaded up into the icy grey air.
“Behold — mighty Sejeend!” Qothan said.
“Don’t be absurd —”
Then he stopped, recognising amid the clutter of buildings opposite the unmistakeable outline of the White Keep from whose battlements fluttered a large, pale blue banner. Beyond it reared a line of cliffs topped by dense forest.
Dizzyness struck again, along with a nameless fear.
“How...where is this…”
“Not ‘where’, good captain, but ‘when’.”
So saying, he walked past Ondene, downhill towards the river. In a whirl of panic, Ondene stumbled after him.
“Wait! — what must I do, what can I do here?”
“This sojourn will not last, ser,” the tall man said over his shoulder. “If we reach the strand of the bay within the hour then all will be well. And if you keep up, you’ll knock some of that cold out of you.”
Surrounded by strangeness and dark implications, Ondene knew that he had no other choices so he did as he was bid. And hurried to keep up.
Chapter Six
Beneath dark and restless waves,
Below deep waters and the deeper abyss,
The shout of drowned nations yet rings,
And their dreamless citizenry stirs.
—Eshen Caredu,
Storm Voyage,
Ch 9
Corlek Ondene followed the mysterious Qothan across snow-covered fields to a wood of skeletal, ice-encrusted trees. He was chilled to the bone and by the time they found a wagon-track snow was falling, a steady scatter of flakes in the white silence as the first shadows of evening began to encroach. But when Qothan continued along the track without so much as breaking step, Ondene protested through chattering teeth, swearing not to move until he had rested. Then he sat down on a boulder by the side of the track, arms wrapped across his chest.
Qothan stopped and stared at him for a moment before coming over to him and laying a hand on his shoulder. Ondene opened his mouth to utter a cutting remark but hesitated as a peculiar warmth burgeoned within his chest and began to spread across his body. At first he imagined the worst, that this was the onset of some terrible seizure, but as a new vitality swept through him his feelings turned to relief, tinged with frustration.
“What are those powers that you have?” he said. “And what do you want with me?”
Qothan only shook his head. “I am not the one to answer such questions —”
“Then who will?”
The tall man gave him a stony look. “My own chieftain could give you answers but only if we hasten now to the bay.” Then he turned and began walking again. “Time is not our ally, captain.”
Ondene cursed under his breath, rose to his feet and set off after him along the frozen, rutted track.
More flurries of snow came and went as they trudged down towards the north bank of the Valewater. A fitful breeze flung snowflakes into their faces, occasionally rising to an icy blast of wind, yet Ondene felt shielded from it all, as if he wore an invisible cloak which let in no coldness while keeping his comfortably warm.
His thoughts, however, were far from composed, thoughts that
“Who are you and why have you brought me here?”
His captor gave an amused snort. “Two questions that require more answers than I have time or inclination to provide. Indeed, the second of them may not yet have an adequate answer…”
“I will not listen to such games…”
“In that case you may call me Qothan for now, but it would be more important for you to take more notice of your surrounding, Captain Ondene,” the gaunt man said, pointing over Ondene’s shoulder.
“What do you mean by my ‘surroundings’?” he said, turning to look.
Before him were snow-covered fields and a few steadings spaced along the banks of a wide river which narrowed towards a large bay. On the other side was a good-sized town from whose chimneys a thousand smokey trails threaded up into the icy grey air.
“Behold — mighty Sejeend!” Qothan said.
“Don’t be absurd —”
Then he stopped, recognising amid the clutter of buildings opposite the unmistakeable outline of the White Keep from whose battlements fluttered a large, pale blue banner. Beyond it reared a line of cliffs topped by dense forest.
Dizzyness struck again, along with a nameless fear.
“How...where is this…”
“Not ‘where’, good captain, but ‘when’.”
So saying, he walked past Ondene, downhill towards the river. In a whirl of panic, Ondene stumbled after him.
“Wait! — what must I do, what can I do here?”
“This sojourn will not last, ser,” the tall man said over his shoulder. “If we reach the strand of the bay within the hour then all will be well. And if you keep up, you’ll knock some of that cold out of you.”
Surrounded by strangeness and dark implications, Ondene knew that he had no other choices so he did as he was bid. And hurried to keep up.
Chapter Six
Beneath dark and restless waves,
Below deep waters and the deeper abyss,
The shout of drowned nations yet rings,
And their dreamless citizenry stirs.
—Eshen Caredu,
Storm Voyage,
Ch 9
Corlek Ondene followed the mysterious Qothan across snow-covered fields to a wood of skeletal, ice-encrusted trees. He was chilled to the bone and by the time they found a wagon-track snow was falling, a steady scatter of flakes in the white silence as the first shadows of evening began to encroach. But when Qothan continued along the track without so much as breaking step, Ondene protested through chattering teeth, swearing not to move until he had rested. Then he sat down on a boulder by the side of the track, arms wrapped across his chest.
Qothan stopped and stared at him for a moment before coming over to him and laying a hand on his shoulder. Ondene opened his mouth to utter a cutting remark but hesitated as a peculiar warmth burgeoned within his chest and began to spread across his body. At first he imagined the worst, that this was the onset of some terrible seizure, but as a new vitality swept through him his feelings turned to relief, tinged with frustration.
“What are those powers that you have?” he said. “And what do you want with me?”
Qothan only shook his head. “I am not the one to answer such questions —”
“Then who will?”
The tall man gave him a stony look. “My own chieftain could give you answers but only if we hasten now to the bay.” Then he turned and began walking again. “Time is not our ally, captain.”
Ondene cursed under his breath, rose to his feet and set off after him along the frozen, rutted track.
More flurries of snow came and went as they trudged down towards the north bank of the Valewater. A fitful breeze flung snowflakes into their faces, occasionally rising to an icy blast of wind, yet Ondene felt shielded from it all, as if he wore an invisible cloak which let in no coldness while keeping his comfortably warm.
His thoughts, however, were far from composed, thoughts that
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