The far side of great Azenkuul, the mountain fastness of the children of Eisenn (one of the fathers of the dwarves, the first forger of iron and their god), was a harsh place for all but the few. Miles beyond the Upper Calder Valley, the great mountain dominated the heights and the glacier that lay beyond. Many remnants of claimed ancient first peoples roamed the White Mountains, and the Naja-rae are one of them. Now the party was huddled around a fire with Ixian, a voija or scout of the tribe. And apparently a child of Remerion (Remy) Silverleaf the one-time rogue turned devotee of Mara. With Ixian were a dozen men, five small sleds, and many pelts – one of which kept Elemix warm.
Ixian said, “My mother told me when I was very young that she bore me by the wandering elf Remay after he won her as a prize in battle against my people. He was a Child of the Evergreens and cast out forest spirit and charmed her into loving him, then left he with me. I believed her as the ears you see and the hair are hard to hide. Thrice I have heard of one matching his description passing by. Once I missed him by days. The second time I thought I saw him, but I was too inexperienced to track him and I forgot him for forty years. The third time was this past year when I last came to these heights hunting goblins where I heard from the wild beasts of his passing. They saw him, but would not say his mission or his direction. It is as if Vilmalka was toying with me.” He then said, “if this Remy is indeed your great uncle and your grandfather (looking at Typhon and Renee), then maybe my chase to stop Hidmeel from his foolishness is not in vain, but part of her plan.”
Emmeline spoke up. “Who is Hidmeel? And if I may, what might you do if you did find Remy Silverleaf?”
Ixian replied, “Hidmeel is one of our tribe and my clan of untouchables. He believes our last priestess Phair of the Venjalla Clan is trapped in an old temple carved into the crust of Azenkuul’s north. He thought if he freed her, then she would be able to restore us – even me. For she is touched by the gods.”
He looked a bit more sullen, “now if I find this Remy, I intend to visit upon him the pain he visited upon my mother, the abandonment me visited upon me, and if he is lucky I will give him a chance to explain himself before I end his miserable life. I have no love for such a man – if indeed he is my father. My mother was known to tell tales, but the ears say all.”
Renee tried to hide her shock. Then said, “but does he even know? I’ve met him twice and fought goblins at his side. He is nothing but valiant and honorable – if a bit of a rogue.”
Emmeline nodded. “I think he is very different now than he was before. Now he has a cause and tries to help others rather than only himself.”
“Does the good of today remove the evils of yesterday? Does he make amends for his disregard? Does it matter as we cannot know the truth. My mother is long dead, the father either does not know or does not care, and the gods are silent. But I do not dwell on it. Most of my brothers here are the chaff of the mountains, a clan of the refuse of other clans. Yet we do not cry or waste our lives whining. We do have our revenge when we are wronged and we reward kindness equally.” Looking at Renee and Typhon he said, “I do no know if we are cousins or not. I do not know if this elf is the same as your grandfather and your distant relation. We cannot know, save by Vilmalka’s mercy, which is rare of late given the three hard winters. The latest respite is but a calm before the snows come rolling south again, for something has been awakened in the far beyond. It drives us all to fear and to fight.”
“Do you know what this thing is that is awakened?” Emmeline asked.
He nodded, “No. But after nearly 30 years, the goblins have returned, and tribes once of the far north have moved south. Strangers had been seen walking the land. Southerners, shaman women from the wastes, spellweavers, and others. Something is coming to the holy mountain. The mountain calls them. Like it called the Old Men here to slaughter and destroy.”
Elemix had been listening silently. He was sweating and shivering slightly, but he didn’t seem to be too hot or too cold. Whatever he was going through Elemix was obviously in pain. It seemed almost as though Elemix was trying to ignore whatever it was that was bothering him, but he wasn’t doing a great job of it.
He perked up at the turn of the conversation. “Which mountain do you claim to be holy? This one? Or one farther North; one who’s peak is above the clouds?”
Ixian replied, “Azenkuul, the great forge, is haunted by the dead who cannot rest. There is some good here still it seems, but the Dead’s hatred simmers. It is said the most wicked men try to use that hate, but it always fails them. No, when I speak of the holy mountain, I speak of Caranthir the Great, home of the Gods and one of the Pillars of Heaven of which there are many and we stand on one. A person with the sharpest of eyes may be able to see Caranthir from the top of Azenkuul. I remember when I was a child, the priestess told tale of the fall of Azenkuul and the Fogs of Caranthir which arose shortly after the Eterians destroyed the Dwarves. Since then, the clouds have never left Caranthir.”
“Are the Fogs of Caranthir dangerous?” Emmeline wondered.
He replied, “Yes. The freeze deeper than the deepest cold. Approaching the mountain is risky and they descend quickly and without warning. The unprepared die, and the prepared suffer if they are lucky. It is the cold of death.”
“Very unpleasant.” Emmeline remarked. “Speaking of unpleasant, have you seen or heard of any white dragons to the north?”
Elemix nodded. I’ll bet, he thought. He really needed some forms of protection from cold.
“It may be that we will have to journey that way someday. What more can you tell us of the area? Do you know of a pass, or a way up the mountain that is safer than most? Does anything live up there?”
Turning to Emmeline, he answered, “yes. Cold drakes live up there. Evil beings twisted by the first darkness and beholden to the night and the cold. I have seen one once. It is a terror to behold. It is said the Mother of Winter herself, Vilmaka – may she ignore us, is a dragon.”
He turned to Elemix and said, “Toward Caranthir? It is over fifty leagues north as the dragon flies. More than double that as the wolf runs. The area is ever-winter. The snows do not melt – like the heights of Azenkuul. The approaches to the south and the east are rugged beyond counting and you must climb mountains of great challenge before even getting close. The western approaches are easier but a much longer journey, but fraught with terrors. My people only ever get within perhaps ten leagues and then only on a great hunt and only in the summer. Even the goblins fear going closer. Now there are a people there – a tribe of once-men that live up there called the Fomor – that long ago crossed the veil from the Otherworld to hunt and destroy the elves. They lost when Elves and my ancestors united and drove them forth. It is said they they continue their war with a vicious tribe of elves who also live up there. We call them the Kementi, meaning in your tongue the ‘white enemy’. They are not the odd band of Wood Elves, but something worse. We do not know what they call themselves for they speak to no one and leave no survivors on their raids. Just scalped corpses of the men – and the women simply disappear.”
“So, no I do not know a ‘safe’ way. You may take the rugged approaches and deal with the weather trying to kill you or the monsters trying to kill you. Or you may take the slightly less rugged approach where the inhabitants war against each other, but are united in their hatred of everyone else. And still the monsters want to kill you then too. All of that is assuming you do not run afoul of a hill tribe, a mountain tribe or goblins along the way.” he said. “There is no pass that is easy. The goddess thinks easy is for the weak. Only the strong survive.”
“Sounds grim indeed. I would expect as much going to such an inhospitable place.”
Elemix poured some ale and pulled his new yeti cloak closer on his shoulders. “Tell me more of this clan mate of yours who is trying to find a way into the mountain. Surely he knows of the dangers. Is he looking for anything specific?”
“He is not interested in Carnathir, he is here, on Azenkuul. If he went to Caranthir I would say good riddance to a fool and his errands. My clanman was visited by a shaman – what you all call a wizard – and asked this wizard where he could find our lost priestess. She tried to bring the word of the Winter Goddess to the people – to serve the goddess instead of placating her. To change our ways in dark times. Suffice to say there was a conflict and many of use were cast out and she was buried somewhere on the mountain. The Old Men then came and kept us away. The sad truth is she was the last. Her heir has not inherited her power and we thought all was lost. The wizard said she is alive. So, he unwisely sought her to free her. But I do not trust an Eterian wizard, whose ancestors brought down this mountain any more than I could cast one of their spells. So, we came to stop him. Five of my men were deeply wounded in battle already, one is near death.”
That got Emmeline’s immediate attention. “What? Why didn’t you say so! You should let me attend to the most seriously wounded at once.”
“We have not had a healer in so long, I forgot. Hadrick, guide her to the wounded.” he said. Hadrick got up and brought Emmeline to the wounded’s tent.
“I will go with you as well, Emmeline,” Typhon said, as she got up to follow along. “I can add my healing to yours, and see if we can bring these men back to good health.”
Ixian said, “I did not know you were healers. This is good. Should the Old Men find us, we can better flee together!”
Emmeline nodded. “Agreed! I have only a little magic for healing, given to me by She whom I serve, but that magic is potent. So too is the holy magic wielded by Typhon.”
After entering the tent, she went immediately to the most severely injured and used a spell to stabilize him. (ooc: avg 28 hps per cast) While Typhon attended the others, Emmeline completed her work by checking for any obvious signs of infection. “I can heal only injury, not disease or septic wounds. So be sure to keep these wounds clean until they are completely closed.”
As the others were caring for the men. Elemix leaned close to Ixian. “What was this wizards name?”
“Skallagrim.” he replied.
Elemix raised an eyebrow.
“How long ago was that wizard here?”
Emmeline muttered at the sound of that name. “Probably the traitor, Skall then.”
“Yes. That is his name.” Elemix turned back to Ixian. “That man is an outlaw and is wanted for the murder and attempted murder of many – myself included. Did he go into the mountain as well?”
“Azenkuul, yes. He was in this area for over a year, until late last year. Some say he was seen recently.” Ixian replied.
“I thought you and Typhon killed that guy,” Emmeline said to Elemix.
“Yes we did. I am certain of it. His body was not destroyed like Hugo’s was. If he was seen recently it’s possible that it was someone trying to look like him. For what purpose though I don’t know.
In any case, we have to investigate.”
“Ixian, after we look for your missing man, would you be able to point us toward who might have seen this Skallagrim?” Emmeline asked.
“It is the same man. One thing solves another.” he said.
“Perfect,” Em said with a nod.
“So it would seem,” replied Elemix. “What can you tell us of where your man went and where you encountered this Skallagrim?”
“I personally never met Skallagrim. I saw him near our former village location; but that is long gone and over a year ago. We know where he went – and it will be a difficult trek. We tried the easier route earlier and failed due to the Old Men. There is another route.”
“Tell us of this alternate route,” returned Elemix.
“There is an ice crevasse that has opened up in recent years, revealing a narrow canyon the bypasses the high road and cuts through the glacier. It is a direct route, taking less time than overland and is narrow enough that no more than one or two of the old men could engage us. It is full of ice fog and is very slippery. It would be many hours walking, but as it is all downhill – and steep – we could take a few of us and a couple of the sleds and rapidly cross it in maybe an hour or less. If we keep our wits about us. At the far end there are caves we can rest in, then ascend to where my friend Hidmeel was going.” Ixian replied.
“Sounds like it could be a good approach. It may be tight in there, but if we are lucky we can get through it unnoticed. If not then as you say at least their numbers will be limited due to the confinement.”
“But we must traverse it quickly. If we do not, then we could be caught there when the storms come, burying everyone. That may be inevitable. The winter has one last breath and I feel it near.” Ixian said.
“I’ve done what I can for your injured,” said Emmeline as she used the last of her spells to heal them. “I can be ready to go in one hour.”
Ixian said, “We will send the others back with the wounded. I will lead you all with two sleds, one I will man and other Korash will man. Three persons per sled. To balance the weight, you two,” he pointed at Renee (the lightest) and Typhon (the heaviest) will be with Korash. You others, with me. This also splits he healers. Any of you who can, please help us move everything off the sleds save for three days of supplies.”