He would remain, first and always, his own master rather than
the plaything that AUanon’s shade would have him be.
The days were still and sultry, the summer’s heat building as
he traversed the forest wilderness. Clouds were massed in the
west, somewhere below the Dragon’s Teeth. There would be
storms waiting in the mountains.
He passed along the Chard Rush, then climbed into the
Wolfsktaag and out again. It took him three days of easy travel
to reach Storlock. There he reprovisioned with the help of the
Stors and on the morning of the fourth day set out to cross the
Rabb Plains. The storms had reached him by then, and rain
began to fall in a slow, steady drizzle that turned the landscape
gray. Patrols of Federation soldiers on horseback and caravans
of traders appeared and faded like wraiths without seeing him.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, muted and sluggish in the
oppressive heat, a growl of dissatisfaction echoing across the
emptiness.
Walker camped that night on the Rabb Plains, taking shelter
in a cottonwood grove. There was no dry wood for a fire and
Walker was already drenched through, so he slept wrapped in
his cloak, shivering with the damp and cold.
Morning brought a lessening of the rains, the clouds thinning
and letting the sun’s brightness shine through in a screen of gray
light. Walker roused himself stoically, ate a cold meal of fruit
and cheese, and struck out once more. The Dragon’s Teeth rose
up before him, sullen and dark. He reached the pass that led
upward into the Valley of Shale and the Hadeshom and, beyond,
the Hall of Kings.
That was as far as he went that day. He made camp beneath
an outcropping of rock where the earth was still dry. He found
wood, built a fire, dried his clothes, and warmed himself. He
would be ready now when tomorrow came and it was time to
enter the caverns. He ate a hot meal and watched the darkness
descend in a black pall of clouds, mist, and night across the
empty reaches about him. He thought for a time about his boy-
hood and wondered what he might have done to make it differ-
ent. It began to rain again, and the world beyond his small fire
disappeared.
He slept well. There were no dreams, no nervous awaken-
ings. When he woke, he felt rested and prepared to face what-
ever fate awaited him. He was confident, though not carelessly
so. The rain had stopped again. He listened for a time to the
sounds of the morning waking around him, searching for hidden
warnings. There were none.
He wrapped himself in his forest cloak, shouldered his ruck-
sack, and started up.
The morning slipped away as he climbed. He was more cau-
tious now, his eyes searching across the barren rock, defiles,
and crevices for movement that meant danger, his ears sorting
through the small noises and scrapes for those that truly men-
aced. He moved quietly, deliberately, studying the landscape
ahead before proceeding into it, choosing his path with care.
The mountains about him were vast, empty, and still-sleeping
giants rooted so utterly by time to the earth beneath that even if
they somehow managed to wake they would find they could no
longer move.
He passed into the Valley of Shale. Black rock glistened
damply within its bowl, and the waters of the Hadeshom stirred
like a thick, greenish soup. He circled it warily and left it be-
hind.
Beyond, the slope steepened and the climb grew more diffi-
cult. The wind began to pick up, blowing the mist away until
the air was sharp and clear and there was only the gray ceiling
of the clouds between Walker and the earth. The temperature
dropped, slowly at first, then rapidly until it was below freezing.
Ice began to appear on the rock, and snow flurries swirled past
his face in small gusts. He wrapped his cloak about him more
tightly and pressed on.
His progress slowed then, and for a very long time it seemed
to Walker as if he were not moving at all. The pathway was
uneven and littered with loose stone, twisting and winding its