Borin Frostwalker's Arc

Chapter 3 of 10

They marched onto the ice at dawn with the new map safe in Borin's pouch. By midday the sky turned the color of ash. Wind screamed across the glacier and drove snow sideways. Borin squinted at the ridge ahead and saw nothing but white. The map in his pouch meant nothing now. He could not follow a line he could not see. "We can't walk blind," he shouted over the wind. "One wrong step and the ice swallows us." Behind him, forty people huddled against the gusts. Children cried. The old ones stumbled. Borin knew the cold would kill them long before any crevasse. Thyra pushed through the snow to his side. His sister planted her spear in the ice to stay upright. She had carved the first path back to the cabin and saved them once. Now her eyes were hard again. "We need walls," she said. "Walls or we freeze standing here." "There's no shelter on the ice," Borin said. "Nothing but flat snow for a day's walk." Thyra grabbed his arm and pointed down the slope. Through the swirling white, Borin saw a dark shape. A tree stood alone against the storm, tall and broad, its shaggy boughs weighed down with snow. Thick fruit clung to its branches, some split open and leaking gold. "The boughs reach the ground," Thyra said. "We cut inside and the branches break the wind." Borin ran the plan in his head. The tree sat off the safe line. If they left the route, they risked the hidden pits. But the storm would not wait. He chose the tree. "Rope everyone together," he ordered. "Follow my steps exactly. I test the ice before each one." He went first. He drove his staff into the snow with every stride, probing for hollow ground. Twice the staff punched through into empty air, and he froze, then stepped wide around the gap. The tribe crept behind him in one long line. Thyra walked at the rear, pushing the stragglers forward. They reached the tree as the wind peaked. Borin hacked away the lowest branches and crawled under. Inside, the thick boughs held back the storm. Forty people crammed into the dry space beneath. The wind howled past but could not reach them. Thyra cracked open the fallen fruit and passed the sweet flesh around. Hungry children ate. The nectar gave them something warm in their bellies. Borin slumped against the trunk and breathed. They had survived the storm. But he had led them off the safe route to do it. When the sky cleared, he would stand far from his grandfather's line, with no clear way back to it. He pulled out the map and stared at the marks. The tree was not on it. He had shelter now, but he had lost his place on the only road that kept them alive.