IV
"S-S-Shouldn't we s-stop now?"
"We've got about a quarter of a mile to go," Crispin replied, not even looking back over his shoulder. The ranger was almost a dozen paces ahead, guiding his horse down the winding Timber Road that led to the southwestern logging settlements, but the still, utterly silent night that had descended upon the road made the pair's voices travel easily across the distance between them.
"T-To where?" Talia asked, trying to keep her teeth from chattering. During the first day of travel, the weather had been cold, but the Timber Road had been lined with inns, farms, and taverns where Talia had been able to stop for a few minutes to warm herself near a fire. Now, after nearly two full days on the road, the weather was turning even colder, and only trees lined the Timber Road. The clear sky above allowed the three quarter moon and a myriad of stars to brightly illuminate the road, negating the need for a torch or lantern, but the soft light offered no warmth to the frozen mage. Even with her cloak wrapped tightly about her, her hood drawn tightly over her head, and a thick scarf wound around her neck to her chin, Talia could still keep out enough of the cold to make her the least bit comfortable. "It's already d-dark, and we don't even have any f-firewood."
"You want to sleep outside in the cold, or do you want to spend the night in a warm bed?" Crispin asked in reply, his voice holding a bit of irritability.
"As long as it's not t-too far away," Talia answered, spurring her horse to catch up with the ranger. As she drew even with him, Crispin glanced over to his companion.
"A little cold?" the ranger inquired. Talia simply stared at the man for a moment, uncertain if the question was meant as a joke. "You look nice with blue lips."
"When do we g-get to this warm b-bed?" Talia asked miserably. Almost as if on cue, the mage caught the smell of woodsmoke on a gentle breeze.
"Very soon," Crispin answered. "We get over that hill and we'll be able to see Mattin."
"A town?" Talia asked, looking back to the gently rising road ahead of them. "I don't remember a town on the m-map around here."
"That's because it's not a town," Crispin explained. Despite the frosty night air, the ranger seemed not to even notice the dropping temperature. "It's a way station for loggers and traders traveling along the road, nothing more than an inn with a few barracks that the Lancers or the regular army use when they need to gather in numbers here. Only six people live here year round."
"As long as there's a fire at the inn," Talia said, thankful that there was an inn somewhere ahead. In her current condition, all that mattered was a warm fire, and hopefully some hot tea. Unconsciously the mage spurred her horse slightly, wanting to reach Mattin before she froze through completely. Crispin nudged his own mount to keep up, and swiftly the pair reached the top of the last rise blocking their view of the way station.
Mattin was, as Crispin had said, not a town; the moonlight glittered off of five snow covered roofs clustered along the northern side of the Timber Road against a thick forest of spruce, pine, and oak, but only the largest structure showed signs of life. The inn was a large, two story building with a slightly peaked roof, its central, circular chimney loosing a plume of white smoke into the air. Three windows on the first floor spilled light onto the ground outside, turning patches of snow into sparkling pools of gold. A second wisp of smoke rose up from just behind the inn, evidence of a stable set on the west side of the building. Without a second thought Talia started her horse onward, until she was almost galloping down the hill to the cheerful inn below. Crispin followed along at a decidedly slower pace, shaking his head with a bit of a smirk at his companion's eagerness to get out of the cold.
A second later he had stopped his horse, all thoughts of Talia lost as he stared down at the ground. The snow on the Timber Road had remained unbroken but for a few deer tracks for over a day, but now the moonlight reflected off of an uneven depression along the edge of the forest. It had been a fluke that he had even noticed the tracks, but now he could not tear his eyes from them. Slowly the ranger dropped out of the saddle, oblivious to Talia's race for warmth as he knelt in the ankle deep snow and examined the imprints in the white powder. At first he hoped the large paw marks had been left by a simple wolf, but the tracks were too large and too widely spaced for even the largest timber wolf.
Crispin stood again after a long moment, glancing uneasily into the inky forest beyond the road as his hand dropped instinctively to the sword on his belt. In the stark, ghostly light of the moon, the ranger could just make out the beast's stride, larger than even the pace of the worgs that goblins often used as mounts, disappearing into the pine and spruce forest to the north. Somewhere far off in the distance, the ranger thought for a moment that he heard the trace of a mournful howl, but it was too faint to even tell if he had not imagined the sound. Finally, Crispin mounted his horse again, and finished the journey to Mattin with one eye on the forest.
_________________________________________________
"I thought maybe you were going to spend the night on the road."
"Something caught my attention," Crispin said as he led his horse into the makeshift stables set against the side of the inn. The way station's stable was nothing more than a thatched roof above a single rail where more than a dozen horses could be tied for the night, but only half as many took shelter from the weather as Crispin handed his mount's reins over to a heavily clothed boy that could be no older than ten or eleven. "Shouldn't you be in bed, Rojer?"
"I would be, sir, but papa said that two more travelers were coming," the boy replied, smiling up at the far larger ranger.
"Your father should know that I can stable my own horse," Crispin said, rubbing the boy's sandy hair as he wrapped the reins around the rail.
"He never saw you, really," Rojer explained as he turned back to the ranger. "Only the lady. So he told me to come out and take her horse."
"Well, stay inside for the rest of the night," Crispin said, reaching into a small pouch on his belt and taking out a silver piece. "Are you still saving your money?"
"Yes sir," Rojer said, sounding a bit eager.
"Well, add this to your savings," Crispin said. "And when you buy your bow, let me know."
"Thank you, sir!" Rojer exclaimed, snatching the silver from Crispin's gloved hand. "Won't be long now, especially if winter breaks!"
"Get inside and get some sleep," Crispin said, waving off the gratitude. Rojer nodded and rushed back into the inn, leaving the ranger alone with Talia for the moment next to the tiny hearth fire that warmed the horses.
"He really takes a shine to you," Talia commented, smiling at the ranger.
"You didn't have to wait out here for me," Crispin said. "I thought you were cold."
"I'm freezing," Talia replied. "But I thought I would be courteous. I guess you're here often?"
"Not that often," Crispin said, gesturing for Talia to lead the way to the front door. "But often enough to know the family that lives here."
"So what'd you stop for on the road?" Talia asked as they reached the front door.
"Inside," Crispin said, taking off his gloves and knocking the snow from his boots against the inn's stone wall. Talia nodded, and quickly entered the building.
The interior of the inn was brightly lit by a variety of lanterns and candles, and the warmth of the hearth fire set in the center of the building radiated out to the very corners of the common room. Only a half dozen tables were set on the rough plank floor of the inn, only a fraction of the size of the Western Sun. Five men occupied one table set close to the fire, while another two men, most likely loggers from a nearby camp, sipped ale on the opposite side of the room. As Crispin noticed the larger group, wearing the surcoats of the Tourant Lancers, the ranger sighed in resignation.
"Have we seen those guys before?" Talia asked, genuinely uncertain as to the identity of the five men. As the two travelers hesitated inside the door, one of the Lancers looked up, and a smile broke out on his unshaven face. The man's dark, almost menacing eyes were a sure reminder of the group she had seen in the Western Sun two nights ago.
"Yes, we've seen them before," Crispin confirmed as the dark haired leader of the group locked eyes with the ranger. Emeri seemed to be ready to confront the two newcomers, but a loud, cheerful voice broken the slowly increasing tension between the two men.
"Crispin! What are you doing back here already?" Prejet du Mattin exclaimed, rushing out of the kitchen set beyond the hearth. The heavyset, sandy haired man threw himself around the ranger in a quick embrace, then backed off a step. "I thought you were going to drink yourself under a table in Montcalm!"
"Well, I was, but the marquis had something better for me to do," Crispin answered with a shrug. "Prejet du Mattin, this is Talia of the Arcanists' Guild."
"Lovely to meet you! Lovely!" Prejet said, taking Talia's hand and shaking vigorously the instant she had pulled off her gloves. "Please, take whichever table you like! Your first ales are on me!"
"Where are your manners, Prejet?" a woman called from the kitchen before Talia could ask for tea rather than ale. Like Prejet, the woman was faintly heavy, but seemed to be slightly younger than the forty or more winters that Prejet had apparently seen. "Offer them something warm! Crispin may think the weather is fine, but his poor companion is blue with cold!"
"I was about to ask if they would prefer tea, Yvonne," Prejet said, his cheery demeanor souring slightly with his wife's admonishment. "Remember that I have run a tavern for some twenty years now, dear."
"And who do you think taught you to be nice to the customers?" Yvonne inquired irritably. "You had all the manners of a troll when you first opened this inn!"
"I still can't figure out how the two of you have managed not to kill each other over the years," Crispin remarked, catching Prejet's attention before the innkeeper could turn on his wife. Prejet smiled at the remark, and shrugged his shoulders.
"It takes time, but I've become used to her," the man said. "At any rate, would you like some tea or stew? Both are fresh off the fire and piping hot!"
"Yes, please," Talia said, shaking off her heavy cloak and hanging it on a peg near the door. Crispin did likewise as Prejet hurried back to the kitchen, restarting the argument with his wife as the two disappeared behind the wall. "Can we take a table next to the fire, or will we have trouble with our friends?"
"No, a table next to the fire would be fine," Crispin answered, his attention back to Emeri as the Lancer leaned back in his chair. The ranger casually strode across the tavern floor and propped his long bow against the corner of the stone hearth, then pulled out a chair only a few feet from the Lancers and dropped easily into the seat to watch the fire. Talia made her way to the seat on Crispin's right, making certain that she could see Emeri and all of his lackeys at once.
"I thought this was your time to get drunk," Emeri said casually, still not taking his eyes from Crispin.
"Not this year," the ranger replied simply. "I thought you were going to stay in Montcalm for a few days."
"We left yesterday morning, just before first light," Emeri informed him. "Nothing doing in Montcalm with the snow falling, anyway."
"Well, there's not many traders to raid down here," Crispin said. One of the Lancers, a burly young man with a long mane of unruly blond hair, began to stand, but Crispin turned immediately to him. "Don't do anything stupid, Gaston."
"Sit down, Gaston," Emeri ordered. The Lancer glared at Crispin for another moment, but then did as he was told. Emeri looked back to Crispin, and shook his head. "We are Tourant Lancers, Crispin," the patrol leader explained. "We don't rob the people we're supposed to protect."
"Of course not," Crispin said sardonically.
"Well, what are you doing here?" Emeri inquired. "Run out of goblin skulls to polish?"
"Just doing some scouting," Crispin replied. "How'd you get here? I didn't see your tracks on the Timber Road."
"We came in from the north," a third Lancer replied. Crispin had known the old, weatherbeaten Fleury for a number of years, a tough soldier with close cropped, salt and pepper hair that had served in the Lancers for over a decade, and with the Tourant Army before that. "Someone said a white wolf was killing their sheep. But we saw nothing all day. We'll be heading out again tomorrow, back to the north, but Prejet serves better food and ale than the villagers in Taureau."
"A white wolf," Crispin repeated thoughtfully. "Very big?"
"You can't tell with farmers," Gaston said. "Said it was big as a horse."
"A winter wolf," Crispin concluded. Bayard and Giraume, two Lancers that had recently joined Emeri's squad, glanced to each other uneasily, but their leader simply shook his head.
"They only come down out of the mountains in the dead of winter," the Lancer said. "And even then, they're not common."
"It's cold enough for one right now," Crispin countered. He hesitated for a moment, then continued. "And I found some tracks on the hill."
"A worg scout from a goblin clan," Emeri said, dismissing the tracks as inconsequential. Crispin shook his head. "Okay. We'll keep a look out for it. But I ain't seen a trace of it yet."
"Sorry about the wait," Prejet said, coming back out of the kitchen with two empty cups and a copper tea pot. The innkeeper raised his voice deliberately as he set the cups on the table and poured the tea. "But some women cannot understand the finer points of running a kitchen."
"I heard that, you pot bellied moron!" Yvonne shouted from inside the kitchen. "You better not come back in here, or I'll take a frying pan to that ugly face of yours!"
"Another lover's spat, Prejet?" Emeri guessed, a smirk on his face. Prejet shot the Lancer an obviously false smile, then turned back to Crispin.
"The stew will be ready… shortly," the innkeeper said, glancing nervously to the kitchen door. "Celia will bring it out, I'm sure."
"That's fine," Crispin said, leaning back in his chair. Talia was already sipping away at her tea, accepting a faintly scalded tongue in order to return some heat to her body. "By the way, has anyone come through from Falloux or Sauveterre over the least couple of weeks?"
"No, but the snow has been heavy," Prejet replied. "They have probably not even begun logging yet. Is something wrong?"
"Probably not, but I thought I'd ask," Crispin said. "Winter's running a little late, and apparently Emeri and his men are chasing a winter wolf."
"That's what he thinks," Emeri put in. "It's probably just some worg with a light coat that got away from its goblin master. We should set you loose on it, Crispin."
"It's your problem right now," Crispin said. Then he turned back to Prejet. "Keep your family inside tonight. I found tracks on the hill. Fairly fresh."
"Thanks for the warning," Prejet said, growing serious. The innkeeper started back to the kitchen without another word. As Prejet disappeared and the Lancers finally began to return to their own quiet conversation, Talia set her tea down and turned to the ranger.
"You… don't think winter wolves could be behind this, do you?" the mage asked, leaning forward on the table and lowering her voice. Crispin turned a thoroughly aggravated gaze on her. "Well, I mean, I don't know much about winter wolves, but-"
"No, they couldn't," Crispin interrupted. "Winter wolves only follow the storms. They don't have any control over weather at all, and they cannot learn any spells that would grant them control over the weather. And besides, it's only one winter wolf. Every once in a while a winter wolf gets lost or simply follows a storm down from the mountains. Now please, Talia, let it go."
"Fine," Talia grumbled, taking up her tea once more. After another minute of silence, a young woman came out of the kitchen, carrying two bowls of hot stew and a loaf of bread.
"Thank you, Celia," Crispin said as the blond waitress set the food down on the table with a smile. "How's your father holding up in there?"
"He always manages to live through her rampages," Celia said with a smile. "She'll wear herself out throwing the pots around, and then he'll make some stupid apology. You've seen it all before."
"Where's Noelle, Celia?" Emeri asked, interrupting the ranger's conversation. Celia looked up, her smile fading slightly as she regarded the Lancer.
"Prettying herself up for you," the waitress answered. "Though I don't know why she bothers with you at all."
"She has better taste than you do, that's why," Emeri replied with a bit of a laugh. Celia shot a cold glare at the Lancer, then turned and headed back for the kitchen just as Yvonne opened up with a fresh barrage of rattling cookware on her husband. Crispin smiled at the racket as he tore off a hunk of bread and dipped it into his stew.
"I never get tired of this place," the ranger commented before tearing into his food. Talia cast one glance back to the doorway, trying to see the brawl going on inside the kitchen, then cautiously started into her own meal.
_________________________________________________
It was still dark when Talia suddenly awoke. Although the heavy shutters were still closed over the tiny window in their room, Talia could still see her breath steam up in the darkness, evidence of the deep chill that permeated the building. Prejet's older son, Helier, had brought a pot of embers to the room just before she and Crispin had gone to sleep, but they had long since turned to cold ashes. Slowly the mage sat up in her bed, pulling her thick woolen blankets with her to ward off the cold.
Crispin still slept in his bed on the other side of the tiny room, silent and unmoving under his own blankets. Talia wondered if the ranger had said or done something in his sleep to stir her, but her companion lay as still as the dead. The only evidence that he was still alive was the faint cloud of steam rolling from his partially open mouth. After a moment of debating if she should wake the ranger, Talia finally decided against such an act, thinking that nothing more than the cold had awoken her. Even in Montcalm, Talia had a fireplace in her room to keep the cold at bay during the region's harsh winters. The mage sank back down into her bed, closing her eyes again to catch one or two more hours of sleep before the sun rose.
A low, mournful howl carried into the room, just loud enough for the mage to be certain that it was not her imagination. Quickly the mage sat up in bed again, her mind racing for a spell in case a wolf should try to attack the inn. Talia remained bolt upright in bed for what felt like an hour, listening for the howl and once again considering waking her sleeping guide. Finally, realizing that it was foolish to think that a wolf would attack a building, the mage sank back into her bed, trying to disregard the howl and go back to sleep.
She was still lying awake when the first lights of dawn began to creep through the shutters an hour later.
_________________________________________________
"What are you doing?"
"Keeping a journal of our expedition," Talia replied without looking up. She continued to scribble with a feathered quill into a small book as she answered her companion's idle question. "This way, when we return, I'll be able to present my findings to the Arcanists' Guild in an organized manner. Please don't block the light from the window."
"Just tell them you found out that Tourant has long winters," Crispin said, reluctantly shifting in his seat to allow what little light entered from the east windows of the common room. The sun had only just appeared over the horizon, but already Prejet was rekindling the fire in the common room's hearth as the two travelers started into a breakfast of hot waffles and a few overripe apples. Talia looked up from her book with a bit of a smile.
"If that's the case, my study will document that," the mage explained. Crispin shrugged in indifference as he took one of the half dozen waffles that Celia had brought them. "At any rate," Talia continued, turning back to her journal, "I like to keep notes on my research. That way, I can't forget anything."
"I hope you mention my inn in a favorable light," Prejet said, standing from the hearth. "It would be good for business, to be endorsed by a member of the Arcanists' Guild."
"Ever the businessman," Crispin said with a smirk. "Is the bacon done?"
"Celia's probably burning it," Prejet answered. The innkeeper looked back to the door as it opened, allowing Rojer inside.
"Papa, I found wolf tracks outside," the boy said. "Right up to the door."
"Up to the door?" Prejet repeated, curious. Crispin looked up as well, setting his waffle back on the plate. "A bold one. Must have smelled the food inside."
"He would have gone to the back for food," the ranger said, standing. Talia looked up from her work.
"I heard a wolf this morning," the mage said, "but I thought he was far off. How many wolves are in this area?"
"Plenty," Crispin said absently, already making his way to the front door. "Rojer, you said right up to the front door?"
"Yes sir," the boy answered, following the ranger into the snow. The sun in the east threw a brilliant light over the snowy landscape, but leaden clouds were sweeping in again from the west with another storm. Crispin took notice of the weather for only a second before Rojer pointed out the tracks in the snow. "Right here."
"Big wolf," Crispin said, kneeling next to one of the clearer tracks. The ranger scanned the snow around him, picking out the path of the tracks, then stood and brushed the snow from his knees as Talia came to the door. "Tracks are too big for a timber wolf, and the strides are too long for a worg. That's Emeri's winter wolf."
"A winter wolf?" Prejet repeated, joining the group. "What about the horses? Did anyone check the horses?"
"Not yet," Crispin answered, starting around to the side of the inn. "I doubt the wolf came around the side, though. We would have heard the horses during the night."
"What about the horses?" Emeri called from the common room. The Lancer pushed his way past Talia in his hurry to join Crispin, and after a moment's hesitation the mage followed the pair to the stable.
The horses were still alive and unscathed inside the stable. Talia let out a sigh of relief as Emeri and Crispin gave the mounts a more thorough examination, but the winter wolf had apparently left the inn without attacking anyone or anything. Assured that his horse was untouched, Emeri turned to Crispin.
"What, it just came up to the door, and then left?" the Lancer asked. "Without doing a single thing?"
"It must have been checking out the competition last night," Crispin said. "Seeing if we were worth the attack."
"So it decided that we were too tough, right?" Talia asked nervously. Crispin shrugged.
"Probably," the ranger answered, most of his attention still on the forest around them. "Either that, or it could have been a scout."
"A scout?" Talia repeated.
"Well, they do sometimes travel in packs," Crispin explained. "It's easier to bring down prey as a pack, rather than a lone hunter."
"You're full of good news," Emeri said sarcastically. "I'd still love to know what it's doing this far east."
"Following the storms," Crispin replied, gesturing to the line of clouds in the distance. "He'll be around for a few days, then head back to the mountains when the storms end."
"Not if we find it first," Emeri said, patting the head of the mace that hung on his belt. Crispin stifled a bit of a chuckle at the Lancer's bravado.
"So what do we do?" Talia asked, glancing to the edge of the forest nervously.
"We finish breakfast," Crispin replied, walking past her and heading for the door. "My waffles are getting cold."