Kuthona 22, 4712 (evening, The Storm Tower)

Ameiko and Koya wanted to see the tower that was at the center of all this turmoil, so we obliged. I mean, why not? We had cleared it out so it was safe—aside from the sludge—and it was completely alien in design and construction, unlike anything any of us had ever seen or were likely to see again. Ultimately, this journey is about restoring Ameiko’s rightful place as heir to the empire of Minkai but it is also about traveling far away from home and seeing the world outside of Avistan, and all the strange and wondrous sights it has to offer. A piece of that world was staring at us right here, right now. When we would have another opportunity?

Ameiko seemed just as interested in the remorhaz as the ancient, basalt spire. I understand the appeal, especially after having stood in close quarters with two of them. They have a reputation in this part of the world that is, frankly, well deserved. And, Sparna offered what I thought was a pretty good idea, inspired by the talisman that Ulf carries. We could fashion a few of our own from their scales and use them in much the same way as Iqaliat. When we arrive in Tian Xia we may need a system for identifying who we can trust, and fetishes of our own may be the answer. That, and trophies made from remorhaz scales kind of send a message about who people are dealing with. I have little patience for convincing others to take me seriously and I suspect Ameiko has even less, so why not make that first impression count?

Ulf wants to pick up the Path of Aganhei again and according to him the best place to do that is at Dead Man’s Dome. I imagine this has a lot to do with the fact that it’s one of only a handful of identifiable landmarks around for literally hundreds of miles. Once we clear the Alabastrine Peaks, Ulf says we turn right and head south. Though just about everything is “south” from where we are, so I’m pretty sure that “head south” was meant as a gag.

I almost wrote “We leave at first light”, but of course there isn’t one and there won’t be for several more weeks.

Dead Man’s Dome used to be a fortified tower of some sort, an outpost along the Path of Aganhei that extended the protection for travelers onto the Ice itself. A couple hundred years ago, though, it was attacked by a small army of giants and frozen dead while several caravans were sheltered there. It threatened to be more of a slaughter than a battle, but a soldier whose name has long been lost to time mustered a brilliant counterattack that shattered the attacking formation. As the giants regrouped, the surviving guards and caravans managed an escape, but that one, lone soldier stayed behind and lured the attackers into the tower before collapsing it on himself and them. It is a seemingly fantastical story that, as near as I can tell, is absolutely true, and it hasn’t even been embellished.

Ulf says that, according to legend, the ghost of the Dead Man protects the dome to this day. Six months ago I would have scoffed at such a notion, but not now. Etayne and Koya would be pleased.

We’re going to try and speak with Katiyana’s corpse before leaving tomorrow. It’s become a disturbing ritual, but it has to be done, right?

That’s what I keep telling myself.

Kuthona 23, 4712 (midday, The High Ice)

Katiyana’s essence was about as cooperative as I’d expected. She (it?) gave circular answers that told us basically nothing, though that may have been in part because we didn’t know what to ask. This spell seems to work best when you are seeking to confirm that which you already know or at least suspect. The more general or vague you are the less likely you are to be satisfied.

One of our questions was answered with a threat of sorts.

“Who are the others you were working with?” Qatana asked.

“I was allied with felled creatures of the frozen north, raised from death”, she replied in that hollow, lifeless voice we’re used to from this spell. And then she laughed. An eerie facsimile of a laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. “My allied creatures may yet thwart you.”

So that is something to look forward to.

She also implied rather strongly that she wasn’t associated with the oni of the Five Storms. As she put it, she served “the Frozen Lord who shall return.” Uh huh. Good luck with that. It’s reasonable to assume that she was working alone up here until very recently, and Tunuak seems to have been a lucky break rather than part of any kind of master plan. He was probably the only one of her victims that was useful to her alive, and I doubt that hoarfrost spirits and whatever other undead she’d created from the rest served as anything more than brute force. Sithhud is going to have to get used to disappointment.

Kuthona 24, 4712 (evening, The High Ice)

I talked to mom and dad today. I actually tried last night but it didn’t work, or rather, not all of it did. I could see mom and even hear her, but when I tried the spell that would let me talk to her? Nothing. All I could do was sit there and watch as she worked in the office.

I actually did that for a while—watch her as she worked. I couldn’t let the image go. And then I realized how voyeuristic it was. As much as I wanted just to see them again, doing it this way suddenly felt horribly wrong, and I let it go.

Tonight, though, I got through.

“Mom.”

There is a difference between knowing something might happen and actually having it happen. She and dad knew what to expect because I’d made these plans with them that day back in Magnimar, but she still nearly jumped out of her seat. I mean she literally jumped. So I guess I surprised her.

“Kali! Thank the gods you’re OK!” There was a pause, then a look of concern on her face as she looked around reflexively. “Are you OK? Where are you?”

“Near the north pole. Yes, I’m OK. We all are.”

It took a couple of minutes—precious time I didn’t really have with this spell—for her to find dad and get back to where they could talk privately. I was treated to a short tour of the office, though I could only see a small bubble around her as she walked. Unsurprisingly, it hadn’t really changed since I’d left.

“We received the letters,” dad said. “There were three?”

“Yes.”

“They gave us quite a scare. What happened up there?”

I was more or less expecting this question and had prepared an answer. “We guessed they’d be watching for us and they were. They’ve been there for decades, patiently waiting in case someone from Amieko’s family turned up. They’d formed a small criminal empire of sorts using a trading guild as a front. Like the Sczarni in a way.”

Mom spoke up then. “We’ve heard rumors of a guild coming into trouble with the king there.”

“Yes. That was us. And them. You won’t hear our names, though. The public face of it is an Ulfen merchant named Lute Haggersly. If you are looking for new business contacts up there, by the way, he’s someone to trust. He’ll remember my name.”

We didn’t have much time so I quickly recounted the highlights from Kalsgard to points north. More surprises, more alarm, especially after I got around to Iqaliat.

Dad interrupted this time. “A dragon?! Kali—”

“It was a small one. If that helps.”

“Kali…” He paused, and I got the sense he changed what he was planning to say. “We are both immensely proud of what you are doing, and what you have accomplished. Both you and your friends.”

But.

“But, we worry that events continue to escalate.”

Mom spoke up, then. “So far you’ve been able to handle it. But it feels like things are on the verge of spiraling out of control. How will you know if…?”

She trailed off, not able to put the question into words. It didn’t matter though because I knew what she was asking me. And I didn’t have an answer for it. Not one that would satisfy them, anyway.

“You might be right. I—I know that’s not what you want to hear. I can only say that we’ve all agreed not to take needless risks. That this isn’t worth our lives. I know that’s not much, but…it’s the best I can offer. We learned a lot from Kalsgard.”

They asked how Ameiko was doing so I told them. It was an abrupt and awkward change of subject, but I get it. In their position, I would have wanted to do that, too.

I am probably making this conversation sound like something of a downer. It wasn’t like that, really. It was just honest. But it’s not something I’m used to doing with them, and if I feel and sound a little numb I guess that’s just me coping with it.

“When will we hear from you next?” dad asked.

We had just a few seconds left and I could feel the spell coming to an end. The image of them in front of me was starting to fade.

“We should reach Tian Xia in a month, plus a week or two to get through the mountains.”

“Take care of yourself, and your friends,” he said.

“We miss you and love you. And we want you to come back to us.”

“I miss you and love you both. I will make it back. That is a promise.”

The uncomfortable truth is that this isn’t a promise I could really make. I mean, how did know that I could keep it? We didn’t know what really lay ahead of us. But the point is that I meant it. They knew that, too, and that’s what mattered.

I managed to hold my composure until after the spell expired.

Kuthona 28, 4712 (night, The High Ice)

For the last several days we’ve had clear weather that would qualify as pleasant if it wasn’t so cold. I was beginning to think we might actually make it to Dead Man’s Dome without incident, but tonight as we were making camp word started spreading that there was a figure of some sort just out beyond our light. A woman walking alone in the freezing darkness. Naturally, this put everyone on edge because, really, how could that possibly be what it appeared? Olmas rode out on Kasimir to investigate, with Qatana and Ivan close behind.

The short of it is: it wasn’t a woman. Surprise. Not a living one, anyway. She was a malevolent spirit of some sort, and was trying to draw people away from camp. Mostly it was the others that dealt with it. There just wasn’t much I could do to contribute. This has me rethinking some decisions I made about which spells I have chosen to learn. Each one takes precious time, and of course money in special ink and fees, so when I was starting out these decisions were difficult to make. Now that money is less of an issue, and time is something we have far too much of, I don’t have to make tough choices. The problem I have now is even more frustrating: no resources. I can manage a couple of news spells on my own as my skills grow, but that is about it for self study. It could be weeks before we are in a suitable town or city.

I am a little surprised we haven’t attracted more attention. Our caravan is putting out a lot of light. We knew we’d be crossing the Crown in the dead of winter, and that we’d be going a couple of months without the sun. If we wanted to see by we’d have to supply our own light. Qatana, Ulf, Ivan, and I made up plans for a couple of bulls eye lanterns for the covered wagon that Sandru drives, and regular lanterns to go on the others. Each one is lit by a magical flame that Qatana produced. It was expensive—each casting consumes a small ruby—but they never go out unless magically extinguished. We can see as far as 100 feet away in all directions, and even farther in front due to the head lamps. We’re a very visible beacon, one that can be seen for miles and miles in the darkness. Not everything up here is blind.

Kuthona 31, 4712 (mid-day, The High Ice)

The Silver dragon flew over us again while we were stopped for lunch. I assume it was the same dragon, anyway. How can one tell? It was big, it was silver, it was a dragon. That was about as far as I could get on distinguishing features. It didn’t stick around, either, which I assume is a good sign. No news being good news, and so on.

Other than that, it was shaping up to be an uneventful day. And then we broke camp.

Vankor, one of our drivers, was pretty visibly shaken. I remember thinking he looked a little nervous this morning, but didn’t think much of it at the time. After only a few hours he was clearly doing much, much worse. He wouldn’t go near any of the wagons, or rather, the musk-oxen that were pulling them.

Both Ulf and Koya are sure it’s Howl of the North, a form of madness that comes from being without the sun for weeks on end, and I agree.

His brother Bevelek said, “I noticed he’d been a little slow to get moving in mornings. Reluctant, even.”

Sandru nodded his head. “I had, too, but I didn’t want to give him a hard time. I just figured…I guess it was getting to him, only a lot more than I realized.”

Qatana pulled out some of our diamond dust and tried a restorative spell that works on these sorts of things. It produced some results, which is encouraging, but it didn’t cure him completely. We may give it time, or we may try the spell again.

For now, Sparna will take his position as driver, and Koya will watch over him. That meant we needed someone to perform the divinations for the caravan, and I think just about everyone was shocked when I said, “I’ll do it.”

Koya looked at me skeptically for a moment—Yeah, I would doubt me, too, I thought—but then she smiled, nodded, and said, “OK. Come with me.”

Why am I doing this? I guess I’ve come around. Koya is no charlatan, and I’ve learned to respect that there is real magic at the core of what she does for us. That, and if we were counting debts, I’d be in hers many times over. This seems like a step towards balancing those scales.

New Year’s Day, 4713 (mid-day, Dead Man’s Dome)

Our scouts tell us that a large group of undead are trailing us, and I can just barely make out a handful of figures lumbering behind us at the far reaches of our light. The first skeleton was spotted early this morning, just a few hours after we set out, but as the day drew on more and more undead were seen converging on our flanks. It doesn’t appear that they can get ahead of us, but they really don’t have to: we and our animals have to stop and rest at some point, and they do not. We’re going to have to pick a time and place to make a stand.

Ulf has suggested doing that at Dead Man’s Dome. It’s where we are headed, anyway, and we should arrive in a couple of hours if we just continue on. The Dome will gives us some defensive terrain which sounds much better than trying to do this out here in the open. Plus, the longer we go the more likely we’ll be to draw them all out and get them following behind us instead of converging from all around.

That doesn’t mean this isn’t tense. I’m told there are at least a couple of dozen of them out there, now, and I have no doubt that more are coming. A few skeletons, wights, and even hoarfrost spirits are not a threat to us, but a few dozen is a different matter. And, it’s not just us: it’s the wagons, the animals, Vankor who is essentially helpless, and our provisions. It is on everyone’s mind and the wait is not helping. We also don’t have much of a margin for error. If another wagon axle breaks, if we wander off the path and get stuck, if anything slows us down at all… We have to be ready to face them at a moment’s notice.

We are fortunate that the weather has been good, and the packed ice and snow here has been fairly level and smooth. It was not easy, but I was able to spend the last 20 minutes or so memorizing some spells, filling the reserves I had held back for the day. There are some spells we’ll want that I do not normally prepare.

Thank the gods I have fallen into that habit.

(evening, Dead Man’s Dome)

The ground below us is littered with the shattered and charred remains of the undead. I am, frankly, stunned by the combined destructive power that we can bring to bear. We have obliterated some three or four dozen of them in a matter of minutes, and much of that time was spent preparing for the second wave of the attack.

Granted, as Olmas and Sparna would say, this was probably the best possible scenario for us. We had the higher ground. We more or less knew what we were up against. We could define the encounter. They had limited capacity to plan or respond. We had more resources at our disposal, from abilities to weapons to magic. And, most importantly, we had time to prepare.

I am beginning to understand why powerful spell casters are as often feared by the common man as they are revered. I am also more than a little frightened by my own potential. Since this began, I have spent most of my energy and efforts supporting the others, either through direct action or by hindering our foes, giving us small advantages wherever possible. Actually participating in a fight directly has always been a last resort, when there was nothing better for me to do. This time, direct action was called for, and I rained down earth and fire, over and over again after the aurochs had flattened the front lines.

Granted, these creatures were undead and no one will mourn them, but what lies ahead of us? How often will I be facing living, breathing beings? I’ve done it a few times, and it has never sat well afterwards. Mom and dad are worried that we may face a situation that is beyond our abilities. I guess my fear is different: I worry there will be a day when it no longer tugs at my conscience.

The biggest surprise of the day came from Dead Man’s Dome, itself. Just as the first wave began its assault, a ghostly figure rose from the ground ahead of us and took a place in our defensive line. It did not take long for us to understand that this was the spirit of the Dead Man, himself. I did not get a close look at the manifestation, but it reminded me of what we had seen back in Brinewall: energy given physical form, only protective instead of destructive. As it stood there waiting for the second wave, someone quickly brought Ulf down to see. I understand that it was quite a shock.

Later in the evening, after we had made camp and the Dead Man had sunk back into the earth, we were sitting around the campfires, eating and talking. Just on a whim, I asked Ulf what he thought about what we’d witnessed.

“By the gods, do I have a story to tell! No one will ever believe me, but—You know, I had my doubts about leading you fools across here at this time of year, but this here made it worth it.”

I decided to let the “fools” comment go.