Frostfell_ The Wizards - Mark Sehestedt [107]
Amira put the tip of her staff inside the cowl and pulled. The fabric came away, and a lifeless head fell backward against the outstretched arm. It was not the emaciated face she remembered, the corpselike visage covered in pallid skin. This man's features were white, his hair whiter still, long and healthy.
It was one of the Siksin Neneweth, one of the Frost Folk, and he was quite dead.
The knowledge hit Amira, freezing her insides. They'd been fooled.
Only one thought came to her mind, and it passed her lips unbidden. "Jalan!"
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The Isle of Witness
Nothing moved on the Isle of Witness. The island itself was really just a huge pinnacle of rock breaking the surface of the Great Ice Sea. Nothing but moss and a few shoots grew there. The soil was too rocky and the wind was too harsh. Even the great dead tree at the island's summit stood implacable, as it had for hundreds of years. Only the thickest boughs remained, and they were hard as iron from the countless ages of bitter cold and salt-tinged air.
A stone stairway-once decorated with many signs both sacred and arcane, but now weathered and broken-descended from the base of the Witness Tree to the northern shore of the island. At the base of the stair the air rippled, almost like a heat mirage, then darkened and solidified into the folds of a greatcloak. It was made from the skin of some great animal, and bits of fur lined the hem. The arcane symbols upon it glowed briefly, a warm green light. The great hump of a cloak rose and billowed. Straightening, the belkagen drew back the folds of his greatcloak, and Lendri and Jalan emerged.
The trio straightened. Lendri's eyes were wide with uneasiness, and he flinched at being exposed to the wind off the sea, snow and sleet striking his face. Their breath steamed for an instant before crystallizing and joining the snow, and even Lendri, who was seldom bothered even by intense cold, shivered. Only the boy seemed unaffected, and his eyes had a dullness to them, like resignation or even drunkenness.
The belkagen's brow creased. Cold was to be expected, but this… already his hair had frozen to bits of ice, and even blinking hurt. Realization of what this meant hit him.
"No. Oh, no!"
He turned. On the hill above them, emerging from behind the thick trunk of the Witness Tree, stood the Fist of Winter-all five of them, and they looked down at the belkagen and his two charges.
"Back!" shouted the belkagen, throwing the folds of his cloak around Lendri and Jalan. He held them tight and ducked under his hood.
One of the sorcerers stepped forward, laughing. He lowered his tattered hood. Pallid skin and dead, black eyes seemed unconcerned as he smiled into the full force of the storm. It was Erun. He motioned with his hands and mouthed the words of a spell.
The belkagen froze. His cloak wasn't working. Erun-or what had once been Erun-had used his own foul arts to nullify the power in the cloak.
"Give us the boy," said Erun, shouting to be heard over the wind and waves. His voice was harsh and subhuman, as if his will forced his throat to utter sounds strange to it.
The belkagen stood and pushed Lendri and Jalan behind him. He held his staff up, shielding them.
"You cannot have him," said the belkagen. "Not again."
But the belkagen stumbled forward as Jalan pushed past him and rushed up the stairs.
Lendri lunged after him, but Erun drew a single-edged sword with one fluid motion and shouted, "Silo'at!"
Biting frost tunneled outward against the gale and struck Lendri full-force, sending him flying back into the rocks, frost and ice coating him from chin to waist. He hit hard then rolled over, groaning, trying to rise only to have his body betray him.
Jalan ascended the last few steps on all fours, then fell and hugged Erun's legs. While the belkagen watched, dumbstruck, Erun placed