Jayme‘s hair and beard which were now completely white. His own thin brown hair, he knew, had more than a few speckles of grey.
When Jayme had finally accepted the position of Brother-Leader, a post he would hold
until his death, his first request had been that his old friend and companion Moryson join him as
first assistant and adviser. His second request, one that upset many at court and in the royal
household itself, was that his protégé, Axis, be appointed BattleAxe of the Axe-Wielders, the
elite military and crusading wing of the Seneschal. Fume as King Priam might, the Axe-Wielders
were under the control of the Seneschal, and within the Seneschal a Brother-Leader‘s requests
were as law. Royal displeasure notwithstanding, Axis had become the youngest ever commander
of the Axe-Wielders.
Moryson, who had kept out of the conversation to this point, stepped forward, knowing
Jayme was waiting for his advice. ―Brother-Leader,‖ he said, bowing low from the waist with
unfeigned respect and tucking his hands inside the voluminous sleeves of his habit, ―perhaps it
would help if we reviewed the evidence for a moment. If we consider all the reports that have
come in over the past few months perhaps we might see a pattern.‖
Jayme nodded and waved both his assistants into the intricately carved chairs that sat
across from his desk. Crafted generations ago from one of the ancient trees that had dominated
the landscape of Achar, the well-oiled wood glowed comfortingly in the firelight. Better that
wood served man in this way than free-standing on land that could be put to the Plough. Thick
stands of trees were always better cut down than left standing to offer shade and shelter to the
demons of the Forbidden.
―As always your logic comforts me, Brother Moryson. Gilbert, perhaps you could
indulge us with a summation of events as you understand them thus far. You are the one, after
all, to have read all the reports coming in from the north.‖
Neither Jayme nor Moryson particularly liked Gilbert; an unbrotherly sentiment, they
knew, but Gilbert was a rather pretentious youth from a high-born Carlonite family, whose
generally abrasive personality was not helped by a sickly complexion, thin shanks and sweaty
palms. Nevertheless, he had a razor-sharp mind that could absorb seemingly unrelated items of
information from a thousand different sources and correlate them into patterns well before
anyone else could. He was also unbelievably ambitious, and both Jayme and Moryson felt he
could be better observed and controlled if he were under the eye of the Brother-Leader himself.
Gilbert shuffled back into his seat until his spine was ramrod straight against the back of
the chair and prepared to speak his mind. Both Moryson and Jayme repressed small smiles, but
they waited attentively.
―Brothers under Artor,‖ Gilbert began, ―since the unusually late thaw of this spring,‖ both
his listeners grimaced uncomfortably, ―the Seneschal has been receiving numerous reports
of…unusual…activities from the frontier regions of Achar. Firstly from our brethren in the
religious Retreat in Gorkentown, who have reported that the commander of Gorkenfort has lost
many men on patrol during this last winter.‖ The small municipality of Gorkentown, two
hundred leagues north, huddled for protection about the military garrison of Gorkenfort.
Centuries previously, the monarchy of Achar had established the fort in Gorken Pass in northern
Ichtar; it was then and remained the most vital link in Achar‘s northern defences.
―One shouldn‘t expect every one of your men to come back from patrol when you send
them out to wander the northern wastes during the depths of winter,‖ Jayme muttered testily, but
Gilbert only frowned slightly at this interruption and continued.
―An unusual number of men, Brother-Leader. The soldiers who are stationed at
Gorkenfort are among the best in Achar. They come from the Duke of Ichtar‘s own home guard.
Neither Duke Borneheld, nor Gorkenfort‘s commander, Lord Magariz, expect to get through the
winter patrols unscathed, but neither do they expect to lose over eighty-six men. Normally it is
the winter itself that is the garrison‘s enemy, but now both Duke Borneheld and Lord Magariz
believe they may have another enemy out there amid the winter snows.‖
―Has the Duke Borneheld seen any evidence for this with his own eyes, Gilbert?‖
Moryson asked smoothly. ―Over the past year Borneheld seems to have preferred fawning at the
king‘s feet to inspecting his northern garrison.‖
Gilbert‘s eyes glinted briefly. These two old men might think he was a conceited fool, but
he had good sources of information.
―Duke Borneheld returned to Ichtar during Flower-month and Rose-month, Brother
Moryson. Not only did he spend some weeks at Hsingard and Sigholt, but he also travelled to the
far north to speak with Magariz and the soldiers of Gorkenfort to hear and see for himself what
has been happening. Perhaps, Brother Moryson, you were too busy counting the tithes as they
came in to be fully aware of events in the outside world.‖
―Gilbert!‖ The Brother-Leader‘s voice was rigid with rebuke, and Gilbert inclined his
head in a show of apology to Moryson. Moryson caught Jayme‘s eye over Gilbert‘s bowed head
and a sharp look passed between them. Gilbert would receive a far stronger censure from his
Brother-Leader when Jayme had him alone.
―If I might continue, Brother-Leader,‖ Gilbert said deferentially.
Jayme angrily jerked his head in assent, his age-spotted fingers almost white where they
gripped the armrests of his chair.
―Lord Magariz was able to retrieve some of the bodies of those he had lost. It appears
they had been…eaten. Chewed. Nibbled. Tasted.‖ Gilbert‘s voice was dry, demonstrating an
unexpected flair for the macabre. ―There are no known animals in either northern Ichtar or
Ravensbund that would attack, let alone eat, a grown man in armour and defended with sword
and spear.‖
―The great icebears, perhaps?‖ Jayme asked, his anger fading as his perplexion grew.
Occasionally stories filtered down about man-eating icebears in the extreme north of
Ravensbund.
―Gorkenfort is too far inland for the icebears, Brother-Leader. They would either have to
walk down the Gorken Pass for some sixty leagues or shortcut across the lesser arm of the
Icescarp Alps to reach it.‖ He paused, reflecting. ―And icebears have no head for heights. No,‖
Gilbert shook his head slowly, ―I fear the icebears are not responsible.‖
―Then perhaps the Ravensbundmen themselves,‖ suggested Moryson. Ravensbund was,
theoretically, a province of Achar and under the administration of the Duke of Ichtar on behalf of
the King of Achar. But Ravensbund was such an extraordinarily wild and barren place, inhabited
by uncouth tribes who spent nearly all their time hunting seals and great icebears in the extreme
north, that both the King of Achar, Priam, and his loyal liege, Duke Borneheld of Ichtar,
generally left the place to its own devices. Consequently, the garrison at Gorkenfort was, to all
intents and purposes, the northernmost point of effective Acharite administration and military
power in the kingdom. Although the Ravensbundmen were not much trouble, most Acharites
regarded them as little more than barbaric savages.
―I don‘t think so, Brother Moryson. Apparently the Ravensbundmen have suffered as
badly, if not worse, than the garrison at Gorkenfort. Indeed, many of the Ravensbund tribes are
moving south into Ichtar. The tales they tell are truly terrible.‖
―And they are?‖ Jayme prompted, his fingers gently tapping his bearded chin as he
listened.
―Of the winter gone mad, and of the wind come alive. Of ice creatures all but invisible to
the eye inhabiting the wind and hungering for human flesh. They say the only warning that
comes before an attack is a whisper on the wind. Yet if these creatures are invisible before
attack, then they are generally visible after. Once they have gorged, the creatures are slimed with
the blood of their victims. The Ravensbundmen are afraid of them—afraid enough to move out
of their homelands—and the Ravensbundmen, savages as they are, have never been afraid of
anything before.‖
―Have they tried to attack them?‖
―Yes. But the creatures are somehow…insubstantial. Steel passes through their bodies.
And they do not fear. If any soldiers get close enough to attack them, it is generally the last thing
they get to do in this life. Only a few have escaped encounters with these…‖
―Forbidden Ones?‖ Moryson whispered, his amiable face reflecting the anxiety that such
a term provoked in all of them. None of them had wanted to be the first to mention this
possibility.
―Wait, Moryson,‖ Jayme counselled. ―Wait until we have heard all of what Gilbert has to
say.‖ All three men had forgotten the tension and anger that Gilbert‘s jibe had caused moments
before.
―Magariz‘s soldiers have seen similar apparitions, although most who have been close
enough to see them have died,‖ Gilbert said slowly. ―One man they found alive. Just. He died a
few minutes after Magariz arrived. He said, and this report was Lord Magariz‘s own, that he had
been attacked by creatures which had no form and which had suffered no wounds at the edge of