year it shall deepen, and never shall it thaw.”
Gruum came to stand beside the King. He did not want passersby to overhear this talk. “Could the auguries be wrong, sire?” he asked in a whisper.
Therian gave him a scathing glance. “The priestesses are rarely wrong when they use human entrails. The last of the Kem pirates we captured gave their lives to confirm the prophecy. Winter will be early and harsh—and for Hyborea, it shall be everlasting.”
“But we have done so much,” Gruum said, aghast. “How can we have worked so hard and failed so badly?”
Therian turned to him in surprise. “I did not say we had failed. We have not yet tried to rekindle the Sun. All our efforts thus far have been a quest for power.”
“What shall be our next move?”
Therian went back to watching the people in the square. Gruum looked out with him. It was cool today, but not cold. No one wore furs. Here and there, exposed skin could be seen. Such frivolities were soon to be forgotten. The thought made Gruum shudder.
“I’m considering a journey,” Therian said.
Gruum nodded, seeing the wisdom in the King’s plan immediately. If the Kingdom were to be encrusted in ice that would never thaw, the time to get out was now, before they were trapped in a frozen tomb.
“Shall I order a ship prepared, milord?” Gruum asked quietly.
“A ship? Certainly not. We’ll be traveling on foot this time.”
Gruum stared. Where could they possibly go?
-2-
Their destination was not to Gruum’s liking. He could tell things were to go badly before the journey even began. The equipment they piled was the first ominous sign. Rope, lanterns, dried foodstuffs that could last for weeks. Gruum’s pack was stuffed with oddments meant for climbing stone. Spikes, tapping hammers and carefully forged pulleys filled a sack.
“Where exactly are we headed, sire?” Gruum asked for the fourth time in as many days.
“To the mountains,” Therian said, giving him the same answer he did every time the question was posed.
“But where in the mountains?” demanded Gruum in exasperation. He had not previously dared such a specific query, but his concerns had grown as the day of departure drew nearer.
Therian raised his eyebrows and turned him a scowl.
“I’m sorry, milord,” Gruum said.
Therian went back to working upon the clasp of his cloak. He switched it for another one, this time bejeweled with six fire opals. “If you must know, I’m not entirely sure where the entrance is. But I know it is in the mountains and legend places it in the vicinity of the crypt where my royal family was laid to rest. I have my suspicions as to the details.”
Gruum blinked, taking in this information. The entrance? The entrance to what? He knew he had already pushed too far, however, and he bit back the question. The King was not accustomed to having his choices examined by his retainers.
They set off on the following morning. It was a fine day, but there was a chill bite in the air. As they left the city gates on horseback, fine flakes of snow dusted their cloaks. Gruum turned his face up and felt the tiny sting of each flake as it touched his cheek. Could the auguries be right? Summer was not yet done, but already it snowed…the crops would die before they could be harvested. Gruum did not like to think of the starvation that faced the people in the coming months.
They left the town without an entourage of guards. Gruum wagered the sorcerer did not feel the need for them. No one they met on the road dared to speak to them. Instead, commoners slammed doors and vanished around corners as soon as they saw their dour, long-faced King approaching. Gruum could not blame them.
When they reached the foot of the great stair that wound up the mountain face to the Tombs of Kings, they dismounted. The horses could go no further. Gruum looked up, and saw frost on the stairs in patches. It would be icy and treacherous. He shouldered his pack without
Gruum came to stand beside the King. He did not want passersby to overhear this talk. “Could the auguries be wrong, sire?” he asked in a whisper.
Therian gave him a scathing glance. “The priestesses are rarely wrong when they use human entrails. The last of the Kem pirates we captured gave their lives to confirm the prophecy. Winter will be early and harsh—and for Hyborea, it shall be everlasting.”
“But we have done so much,” Gruum said, aghast. “How can we have worked so hard and failed so badly?”
Therian turned to him in surprise. “I did not say we had failed. We have not yet tried to rekindle the Sun. All our efforts thus far have been a quest for power.”
“What shall be our next move?”
Therian went back to watching the people in the square. Gruum looked out with him. It was cool today, but not cold. No one wore furs. Here and there, exposed skin could be seen. Such frivolities were soon to be forgotten. The thought made Gruum shudder.
“I’m considering a journey,” Therian said.
Gruum nodded, seeing the wisdom in the King’s plan immediately. If the Kingdom were to be encrusted in ice that would never thaw, the time to get out was now, before they were trapped in a frozen tomb.
“Shall I order a ship prepared, milord?” Gruum asked quietly.
“A ship? Certainly not. We’ll be traveling on foot this time.”
Gruum stared. Where could they possibly go?
-2-
Their destination was not to Gruum’s liking. He could tell things were to go badly before the journey even began. The equipment they piled was the first ominous sign. Rope, lanterns, dried foodstuffs that could last for weeks. Gruum’s pack was stuffed with oddments meant for climbing stone. Spikes, tapping hammers and carefully forged pulleys filled a sack.
“Where exactly are we headed, sire?” Gruum asked for the fourth time in as many days.
“To the mountains,” Therian said, giving him the same answer he did every time the question was posed.
“But where in the mountains?” demanded Gruum in exasperation. He had not previously dared such a specific query, but his concerns had grown as the day of departure drew nearer.
Therian raised his eyebrows and turned him a scowl.
“I’m sorry, milord,” Gruum said.
Therian went back to working upon the clasp of his cloak. He switched it for another one, this time bejeweled with six fire opals. “If you must know, I’m not entirely sure where the entrance is. But I know it is in the mountains and legend places it in the vicinity of the crypt where my royal family was laid to rest. I have my suspicions as to the details.”
Gruum blinked, taking in this information. The entrance? The entrance to what? He knew he had already pushed too far, however, and he bit back the question. The King was not accustomed to having his choices examined by his retainers.
They set off on the following morning. It was a fine day, but there was a chill bite in the air. As they left the city gates on horseback, fine flakes of snow dusted their cloaks. Gruum turned his face up and felt the tiny sting of each flake as it touched his cheek. Could the auguries be right? Summer was not yet done, but already it snowed…the crops would die before they could be harvested. Gruum did not like to think of the starvation that faced the people in the coming months.
They left the town without an entourage of guards. Gruum wagered the sorcerer did not feel the need for them. No one they met on the road dared to speak to them. Instead, commoners slammed doors and vanished around corners as soon as they saw their dour, long-faced King approaching. Gruum could not blame them.
When they reached the foot of the great stair that wound up the mountain face to the Tombs of Kings, they dismounted. The horses could go no further. Gruum looked up, and saw frost on the stairs in patches. It would be icy and treacherous. He shouldered his pack without
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