Rise (War Witch Book 1) (17 page)

The new horses and winter clothing had left her with precious few coins in her purse. She wasn't certain just what they were going to do when those were gone as well.

After two weeks of searching the ice-coated barren foothills, however, she was more concerned with just getting Chara back to Riskine alive. An old trapper she’d met at the shop had warned her that the worst season for traveling the foothills was winding up, and that there would be weeks of sudden snowstorms and avalanches, not to mention snow-filled crevasses that could swallow a Troll whole.

Taking his advice, and following the map the barkeep had given them, they slowly wound their way down the old wagon road that had once led to a silver mine on the outer most reaches of Cybalt, though it now fell within Giant territory. Ramora wasn't sure how the Titans would greet a Blessed of the High Gods, but hoped she wouldn't have to find out, either.

After the Race Wars of the Second Age, the Giants had retreated into their mountain homes, and were rarely seen. They had no desire to interact with the other races of the Middle World, never mind the slow corruption being spread through the world by the Demon Gods.

In a way, she understood. Those born of the Storm Dragon were a different breed. Like their cousins, the dragons, Giants didn't see the world the same way the rest of the races did. She knew well enough to leave them be, and could only hope they didn’t cross paths with the towering brutes.

Still, as night began to fall, she knew she had to start considering turning back, for Chara's sake if no other. Their supplies were running low, and the weather seemed to grow only more violent. As the two struggled to pitch their tent in the roaring wind, she made her choice.

Come the morning, tower or no, they would turn back.

She would find her answers some other way.

As the wind howled outside, Chara hunkered in her blanket, shivering. Ramora stoked the small fire she’d built, hoping the heat would fill the small tent soon. A small opening in the top helped the smoke escape, but did the same for the heat, making it difficult to warm them after a full day of exposure.

"Why in all the Hells would anyone build a tower all the way out here?" the young woman asked past chattering teeth.

Ramora shrugged. Sorcerers were a strange lot, at best. What motivated them was beyond her understanding.

"Well, we need to find this place," the young woman continued. "Hopefully, tomorrow the wind will die down a bit."

Another gust rattled the tent, making them glance about, anxious. A few days ago, they’d woken in the morning to find they had narrowly avoided being buried by a small avalanche.

Ramora shook her head as she set a small pot over the fire, preparing to make them some warm tea. Showing her friend the state of their food bag, she made a series of signs with her hand.

"No, we’re not turning back until we absolutely have to," Chara argued.

Ramora shook her head again. While the hand gestures Chara had developed over the last two and a half months to help her communicate made things infinitely easier, they made arguing with the stubborn woman impossible. All she had to do was look away, or close her eyes.

The number of arguments the two had gotten into over the last ten weeks, innumerable by Ramora's measure, had all ended that way. As much as she adored Chara, the young woman was sometimes just plain impossible.

Ramora made another series of gestures, pointing at the pack again.

"It's enough to get us back to town plus a couple of days," Chara countered. "If we go easy and only eat twice a day."

The Blessed made the sign for small.

"Yes, small meals, I know," Chara grumbled. "I'd remind you which one of us has the appetite."

Ramora made an offhand gesture at her.

"Hardly," the other woman growled. "I'm like a bird to your bear."

Clenching her fist before she signed something she would regret, Ramora poured her a cup of tea. The weather was getting to them both, she knew.

"Sorry," Chara offered after a bit. "I'm just tense. I know how bad the situation is. Whatever you decide, that's what we'll do."

Cradling her own cup, Ramora slid around the fire and crawled under the heavy fur blanket with her. Chara nestled against her easily, sighing.

"It's just, I feel like we're close, you know?" she said. "Let's give it one more day, at least. If we don't find it by tomorrow night, we'll turn back first thing in the morning."

Cuddling her for warmth, Ramora nodded hesitantly.

"I know you want to go right away," her friend said. "I could see it on your face while we set the tent up. You think it's gotten too dangerous."

Ramora nodded while she stroked her hair.

"It's important, though," she continued. "This may be our only chance to find out who this guy is. Without it, we've got nothing, and don't even know where to start looking."

Shrugging, Ramora tugged her closer and caressed her cheek.

"No, I'm not more important," Chara argued. "Why would you even suggest that? This is the guy who hurt you. I want to find him, so we can make him pay for that."

Cupping her chin, Ramora turned the young woman’s head to face her, cornflower eyes serious as she set her tea aside to sign at her.

"I know it's important to you, too," she said softly. "I just don't want you to miss a chance because of me."

Kissing her softly on the forehead, Ramora smiled at her.

"Easy for you to say," Chara snorted. "I'm the one who'll have to live with the guilt."

Rolling her eyes, Ramora reached over and slid a hand under her shirt, ticking her side.

"Grannax's beard, woman," Chara yelped. "Your fingers are like ice!"

Ramora laughed silently, until Chara slid her hands under the warrior’s shirt, running them across her stomach and smirking at her. The sudden shiver that ran through her made the young woman laugh maliciously.

"Not so fun, is it?"

The Blessed scowled, and then tugged her closer, wrapping them in the fur more tightly. After a moment, she nudged Chara to get her hands out of there.

"Not a chance," Chara replied. "You’re warm."

Shaking her head, Ramora hoped tomorrow would bring better news.

Morning found the weather turning even less hospitable, the howling wind bringing fat snowflakes with it as clouds gathered north of the mountains. Plodding through the ever deepening snow, Ramora began to fear they’d already pushed their luck farther than they should have.

She considered calling on Talbor, but chose to save that as a last resort. While he could rescue them if things got too dangerous, she knew now that she walked the Middle World, there were limits to what Father would allow of the demigod. She had, in essence, revoked many of her privileges by returning to the world of her birth.

She’d known that when she made the choice, too. Her Father had made it clear, and she had accepted the responsibility. At the time, she had felt it was worth it, but now, with Chara at her side, she was less certain.

As the day wore on, visibility dropped, until the two women could only see a dozen yards. With the wind growing ever more vicious, Ramora brought them to a halt, waving Chara to begin making camp. She wasn't sure if night was falling or not, or for that matter, if it had some time ago. She did know they had to get out of this, quickly.

Hurrying as fast as they could, the snow now laced with stinging ice, Ramora tried to set up the tent as Chara led the horses to the side of an embankment, trying to keep them from the wind. Distantly, thunder crashed, and for the first time since leaving Rheumer, the young woman began to grow afraid she might never see home again.

Turning back to Ramora, she tried to wade through the snow, watching as the Blessed struggled with, and lost, one of the packs that carried the heavy steel rods that held the tent together.

Waving, Chara went after it, trying to call out that she would get it, her voice snatched away by the wind. Cursing, she realized this must be what it was like for Ramora all the time, and vanished into the dark.

Ramora continued struggling with the poles and heavy canvas, desperate to get the tent up before things got any worse. The wind ripped the material from her gloved fingers at every turn, gusting so hard it nearly blew her over repeatedly.

Worry grew into a gnawing fear as her Avatar sang to her some advice for stilling the wind, at least for a moment, but she wasn't sure she could even trace the runes as things stood. Shivering, she wrestled with the tent some more, before realizing Chara hadn’t yet returned.

Panic flowing through her. She abandoned the structure, slogging through the deepening snow as fast she could, looking for any sign of the young woman. It had been only a couple of minutes, but already every trace of her passage had been wiped clean.

Scanning about, she pressed into the storm, her panic growing as she struggled up the embankment, almost falling several times. The storm would be on them in full soon, and she felt death nipping at their heels. Desperate, she forced her way on, looking for any sign.

Stumbling into an outcropping, she used it to guide her, a hand grasping at it as the sky lashed out at the earth. Panting, freezing, she brought Talbor's name to mind as she lifted an arm to try and protect herself from the razor sharp wind as she staggered forward.

Rounding the outcropping, the wind died completely, leaving her gasping as she spotted Chara standing in the calm. Grasping for her, Ramora gathered her up, beyond relived she was safe.

"Uh, Ramora," Chara whispered.

Shaking her head, she patted the girl all over, but found her safe and whole. Relieved all over again, she hugged the young woman anew.

"Ramora, seriously," Chara said.

Shaking her head violently, she cupped her friend’s face, wishing with all her might her voice would work just this once, so she could tell her how grateful she was her companion was okay. To her surprise, Chara didn't look at her, her eyes fixed off to the left instead.

Following her gaze, Ramora saw the sorcerer’s tower. Twenty stories high, and a good three hundred yards in diameter, a massive wall surrounded the structure, one Ramora had mistaken for an outcropping of rock. Blinking, she also fully noticed the lack of wind.

Holding Chara's hand, she moved back to the entrance she’d stumbled through, finding intricate carvings of runes on the gateway. The higher ones she recognized quickly as being a shielding spell that held the weather at bay, while the lower was some kind of sealing spell.

Her Avatar crooned out something about a dimensional rift, but Ramora had no idea what that even meant.
Sorcerer magic
, the small Rabbit whistled, as if that explained everything.

Shaking her head, she turned back and spotted low lights burning in a number of the windows. Offering up thanks to her Father, she tugged Chara along as she headed for the massive double doors of the tower.

Tower. She wanted to laugh at that. The place was more like a keep!

"Took you long enough to notice the giant building," Chara muttered. "And the lack of storm happening around us."

Tugging her gloves off as they reached the entryway, Ramora signed at her that she’d been too relieved to find her safe, and that she’d feared the young woman lost in the storm.

"Aw," Chara gushed, hugging her. "And here I was trying to figure out how to find and save your big blonde ass."

Ramora gave her a withering glare, but Chara just giggled and hugged her again. Overwhelmed with relief, she pulled the girl tight for a moment, before looking at the doors.

"Do we knock, or what?" Chara asked, holding on to Ramora's hand as they considered the massive entrance.

The Blessed shook her head then shrugged, pounding her fist against the wood. The two waited a moment, but nothing happened, so she did it again. When still no answer came, Ramora chewed her lip and tried to decide what to do.

If they didn't retrieve their gear and horses soon, they would lose them all. Not that she was sure she would even be able to get back to them, much less find the keep again. Uncertain, she pulled Talbor's name to mind again.