The carriage was large, armored, and black. Five horses of remarkable size and physique were required to pull it, and they did so with uncomely gusto: it would seem unnatural, even to a layperson, that a horse could perform any action with such aggression.
The carriage had thin slits for windows, and was decorated on the right door with a scarlet cross pattée. Its wheels were broad and heavy and dangerous: the kind almost built to crush bodies if they fell on the path. It was a transport for soldiers, and it was pointed north.
The carriage was joined by a second north of Knife’s Edge, and met a third on the common road through Uroda. Two more waited where the evergreen trees lined the icy river, which was followed. The caravan grew this way as it plunged defiantly against the north wind, numbering seven brawny carriages by Skavia, and ten by the hills beyond.
Not a day into the Northern Plains, the caravan turned west and off the known roads, ostensibly without hope of return. The land is wild there, hard with the cold, its denizens deadly and merciless, and the caravan slowed as a result. Two straggling carriages caught up then, the last they would see, and then the caravan dipped into the valleys between mighty hills in the serrated shadow of the Gorum Mountains.
There the procession found the besieged city of Kaltgorod, which was built in a wound cut in the rocky flesh of a hill. The Brotherhood had come to the northernmost point on the bleeding edge of civilization, where the cold had teeth and eyes ached for want of contrast.
Marcus Book had never come this far north, but for him it felt like a homecoming.
Marcus was perched atop one of the carriages, armed with a crowbar and a mallet. Every inhalation of the cold northern air burned his lungs, and every exhalation tossed rolling steam from his nose and mouth. He paused his work for a moment, standing up straight and letting his arms hang loose from his shoulders, mallet in his right hand and crowbar in the left. His cheeks stung and were undoubtedly red, and he did not want to sweat profusely in this cold.
This was not the first time the squire had stopped to marvel at his surroundings, nor would it be the last. Kaltgorod was a tribute to Skavian strength and will. Men armed with shovels and picks and firm hearts had carved a deep cleft into the rock and frozen earth on the eastern face of a hill that bordered the Kalev Highlands. As if that had not yet satisfied their desire to perform a superhuman feat, the same men had then constructed a noble city-fort inside that cleft. It was arguably the northernmost point of civilization in the world.
The squire lifted his chin and couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the sheer rock faces looming far, far above the tallest manmade structure. A sliver of slate-grey sky was framed between those high walls, and it seemed the top of the cloven hill was less than a stone’s throw from the clouds.
Marcus lowered his chin and sighed contentedly as he looked out to the east. The cleft gradually widened in that direction, and opened up to a sweeping vista-view of the northern plains of Skavia. Winter had not yet broken, and so the plains were pure and unbroken white for as far as the eye could see – and the land was said to be so flat that a good eye could spot torchlight from a day’s ride.
“Back to work, boy,†Ivan called from the street, but Marcus’ mood could not be blackened or broken. He turned his head down and to the right to look at the senior knight, who stood half-grinning next to the carriage.
“Just taking a break, old man,†Marcus answered. “The Skavians never get tired of warning us about hypothermia; I’d hate to give them an excuse to I-told-you-so at us as well.â€
Book sat himself down on the edge of the carriage and placed his tools on the roof beside him. His face hardened somewhat, and the cadence of his voice lost its amusement. “So, what’s the word?â€
Ivan’s mouth turned into a grim line, and he glanced about to see if any Skavians were in earshot. “It’s not good,†he said. “A large army set out from Kaltgorod a month and a half ago to reinforce Sulgoran’s Axe, but was intercepted before it ever arrived. They held their own for as long as they could, but have been steadily retreating until there was nothing left to do but return to Kaltgorod. Apparently they only just finished moving into the city last night. Their numbers are half what they were when they set out.â€
“Worse than we thought, then,†Marcus said. “And they still say it’s demons?â€
“A horde, they say,†Ivan said, shaking his head. “Can’t be the monsters native to Althanas, it wouldn’t go unnoticed, and I’ve never heard of anybody summoning up a horde from Elsewhere. They must be mistaken.â€
Book grunted. “I hope not. Forty-eight knights aren’t going to be much help against orcs or direlings. Not the same way they would be against demons.â€
Ivan shrugged. “We go where the Grandmaster sends us, even to death. And it will be, if you don’t finish stripping these carriages down.â€
Marcus sighed and glanced again to the east, this time focusing on the foreground rather than the view. Kaltgorod sloped downward toward the plains and looked down on them, and was divided by three wooden walls. The tallest, sturdiest wall was the outermost, which was fitted with a foreboding and mighty iron gate. The main street reached through that gate and traveled all the way up the length of the city, through an arch in each subsequent wall, before meeting the mouth of a cave system cut deeper into the hill. The buildings of Kaltgorod were all tall and built from broad logs imported from the western hills, where evergreens were plentiful.
The Brotherhood’s caravan was parked along the main street, but the carriages were being disassembled – a process Marcus was meant to be helping with. The wood and metal therein would be used for weapons and armor, and to reinforce the gates. The squire sighed and drove his crowbar into the joint that connected the roof of the carriage to the rest of the frame. He hammered the bar home with a sense of finality.
For better or worse, the Brotherhood would not soon or easily be leaving Kaltgorod.
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