Magnus Frostbeard's Arc

Chapter 5 of 15

The new path was tested and true, but it led nowhere Magnus could name. He knelt over his chart and traced the curve past the X. Miles of blank ice waited beyond it. No shelter marked. No supply cache. Thornpaw's soaked fur crackled with ice as he shivered. Magnus knew the truth cold in his gut. They had a safe route, but nothing at its end. Cross it, and they would freeze before finding warmth. Greta hauled the stake free and coiled the rope. "We can't march him wet across open ice," she said. She jerked her chin at Thornpaw. "He'll be a frozen carcass by noon." Magnus said nothing. He turned back to the snow shelter behind them, its thick packed walls hugging the ground. It had held through the storm. It could hold now. "We don't march yet," he said. "We get him dry first. Inside." They dragged Thornpaw into the dome. Magnus dug through his broad leather rucksack for dry cloth. His hands hit something hard and cold near the bottom. He pulled it out. A small relic, half his palm's size, worn smooth by age. He had picked it from the ice days ago and forgotten it. Now, in his grip, it changed. A faint orange glow bled through its cracks. Warmth spread into his fingers. "Winterchase," he called. The ice elf crawled close, still wrapped in the quilt. She reached for the relic, then stopped short. "That's not cold," she said, her voice low. "Nothing out here is warm. Nothing." Magnus pressed it to Thornpaw's chest. The were-bear grunted. His shivering slowed. Steam lifted off his fur as the ice melted and ran. Within the hour, his coat dried stiff no longer, but soft. The glow held steady, warming the whole dome. Greta stared at the thing. "Where did that come from?" "The ice gave it to me," Magnus said. "I didn't know what it was." He turned it over. The surface was old, older than any craft he knew. Someone had made this. Someone had walked here before, and left it behind. His pulse quickened. A warming stone in the frozen wastes meant one thing. People had survived out here. People had reached warmth. Winterchase touched the relic at last. Her pale eyes lifted to his. "These were made near heat," she said. "Real heat. Not ice." Magnus rolled his chart open again. The blank miles no longer looked empty. Somewhere ahead lay the source of this warmth. He marked a new point past the X, not a guess, but a reason to go on. "We follow the safe path," he said. "And we carry this. It buys us time on the ice." Thornpaw rose, dry and steady. Greta shouldered the rope. The relic glowed in Magnus's fist. They had a route now, and warmth to cross it. But the thing meant others had come before, and Magnus did not know if any had come back.