‘The damn thing is looking at me,’ he said. Karis turned her head, to see that Stealer was standing with his front paws on the bed, his squat nose inches from Vint’s face. It was too much for Karis, and her laughter pealed out.
Vint slumped down beside her. ‘I don’t think he likes me,’ he said.
‘Bring some meat next time you come. I have a feeling that Stealer’s affections are easily bought.’
‘He is the ugliest hound I’ve ever seen. How did you come by him?’
‘He adopted me.’
‘You do have an uncanny effect on males, Karis! I’ll give you that.’
The winds were howling across the jagged rocks, whipping sleet against the cold walls of the cliffs. A violet light shimmered, then two men were standing where a moment before there had been only a long-dead tree and an empty trail.
Tarantio ran forward, ducking behind a rock as the icy needles of sleet slashed into him. Duvodas came alongside. ‘This should be the mountain,’ he said.
‘I have to say, Singer, that I did not really believe your story. If I had, I would have thought twice about accompanying you.’
Duvo glanced up. The clouds were thick, the darkness almost absolute. Then there was a break in the clouds which lasted just long enough for both men to see the outline of the monastery, high up the mountainside. ‘That’s a long climb,’ said Tarantio, ‘and it will be a cold one.’
Duvo closed his eyes and warmth radiated from him, enveloping Tarantio. They stood and began the ascent. Despite the heat it was an uncomfortable climb, for the
sleet melted into rain around them and both men were drenched within minutes.
The path grew narrow, and Duvodas slipped. Tarantio caught his arm. For a heartbeat only Duvodas found himself staring down over an awesome drop, his heart hammering in panic. ‘Walk on the inside,’ said Tarantio. Gratefully Duvodas exchanged places and they climbed on. The wind picked up, battering at them, the rocky path underfoot was icy and treacherous. Conversation was impossible, and they ducked their heads into the wind and slowly forced their way up the mountain.
The heat spell was useless against the power of the wind, and ice began to form inside their clothing. Duvo found his mind wandering; he sat down suddenly. Tarantio loomed over him. ‘What in Hell’s name do you think you are doing?’ he shouted.
‘I think I’ll sleep for a little while.’
‘Are you mad? You’ll die.’
Duvo’s eyes closed. Tarantio’s cold hand slashed across his face in a stinging slap. ‘Get up!’ ordered the warrior. The sudden pain cut through his drowsiness and, taking Tarantio’s hand, he hauled himself to his feet. As the two men struggled on, the wind grew into a storm which lashed at them, buffeting them against the rocks, making balance and movement a continuing nightmare. Arms linked, the climbers pressed on, finally rounding a bend and entering a cleft away from the wind. The relief was indescribable. Duvo pressed his back to the wall, and once more summoned the heat spell. Drawing Tarantio in close, the two men stood shivering as the warmth grew, easing through their icy clothing.
‘We must be close,’ said Duvo, his voice shaking.
‘Let’s hope they open the gate.’
‘Why would they not?’ Duvo asked.
‘They might not hear us in the storm. I would guess they are all tucked up in their beds. Wait here. I’ll find out.’
Tarantio moved away into the darkness and Duvo slumped down. Steam was rising from his clothes and the growing warmth was delicious. He lay down on the rock and fell asleep. Minutes later, when Tarantio shook him awake, Duvo was icy-cold. The heat spell could only be maintained while he was awake. Shivering uncontrollably, he fought to restore it. Tarantio sat down beside him. ‘By the Gods, you are a fool!’ hissed the warrior.
‘I… am . . . sorry.’
‘Not as sorry as I would have been, without a way back to Corduin.’
‘Did you find the monastery?’
‘Yes. It is around two hundred paces further on. There is a nasty section of rock, narrow and covered in ice. I think we should wait for the dawn before trying it.’