Urbeth, her two daughters a few paces behind her, leapt from icefloe to icefloe. Even in this stark portion of the world, far, far north from the Demons' central influence, disease and blight had left their mark.
Many of the icefloes had turned a sad grey from their previously sharp blue-white, and were rent with cracks and soggy, sad saucer-shaped depressions that threatened to give way whenever one of the icebears put an inadvertent paw on one.
Urbeth's head swung from left to right as she leaped and ran. How much longer would the Icebear Coast be safe? Not long, not long at all if the Mother was consumed.
Urbeth abruptly stopped, sinking back onto her haunches and swiping a furious paw at the sky and at all of creation.
"I've had enough!" she bellowed. "Enough!"
Her daughters grinned, and their jaws dripped in anticipation of the hunt.
Urbeth recommenced her run north across the ice. But even as she moved into her stride, a shadowy movement in the distance, over to the east caught her far-seeing eye.
A pack of Skraelings, shimmering south to join in the general slaughter and mayhem.
And for a second time Urbeth halted and sank back to her haunches. But this time she remained silent, her eyes fixed on the Skraelings, and then her eyes drifted north-east, and yet further north-east, until she had concentrated her entire being on the unmapped tundra that stretched into the infinite unknown.
The sorry breeding grounds of the Skraelings, to be sure, but what else did it harbour?
An escape?
DragonStar shivered, and wished he'd thought to cloak himself in something other than a simple linen shirt and breeches of only slightly heavier weave. He'd brought his witches, his Star Stallion, the lizard and his pack of nosing, roaming Alaunt to the one place he thought they could use as a base. Far enough north to escape the worst of the Demons' influence, and yet close enough to slowly begin to win back some of the wasteland, and rid it of its corruption.
Star Finger.
Here also waited Dare Wing and the ethereal Strike Force.
Somewhere.
"Where is he?" Faraday said.
/
She, as did Gwendylyr and Leagh, looked warm enough wrapped in scarlet cloaks, while Goldman was suffering as badly as DragonStar. Why do women always remember to be sensible, wondered DragonStar, and us men always forget?
"DareWing?" DragonStar said. "He must be hereabouts somewhere. I told him to stay ..."
"Is it possible to get out of this wind?" Goldman asked, pleasantly enough, even though his face was turning blue and his arms were shaking as he attempted to wrap them about his chest.
DragonStar nodded. "Yes, of course."
They were standing on the remains of the glacier, just to the north of the shattered mountain, and DragonStar pointed to a shadowed opening amid a tumble of boulders about the skirts of the mountain.
"That must be the entrance to the underground chambers of the mountain. DareWing must be there."
And that is where we found Katie, Faraday thought, unable to keep the girl out of her mind, but she said nothing, and contented herself with aiding Leagh as they stumbled over the rocks towards the entrance.
A figure waited for them just inside.
Qeteb circled down from the sky above the ruins of the Sacred Groves, his feathers and eyes positively glowing with anticipation.
Nothing would ever stop him now.
Below, two women sat on a wooden bench before a simple cottage. Around them spread a smoking wasteland. Every tree had been destroyed, every flower crushed, every hope decimated. The women were the only things left alive in the Groves — such as they were — and Qeteb had every expectation that they would not long stand between him and a total devastation and death for the Groves.
He lifted his wings back, slowing his descent, and stretched his raven claws out, preparing for a landing. Just behind him on the ground his four companion Demons were likewise slowing down, digging talons into the drifting dust and ashes, sliding haunches beneath them.
All four had taken the forms of dog-people: canine lower bodies, human torsos and heads ... save for the wriggling pig snouts on two of the Demons.
In their excitement they had misjudged their appearance.
One of the women rose from the bench, wiping nervous hands down Her gown. She was patently ill, Her skin as grey and as ashen as the landscape about her, Her eyes dull, Her muscles trembling with fatigue as much as fear.
The other woman, ancient and gap-gummed, continued to sit, hunching her brittle-boned form over a terracotta pot.
What was she going to do with that} Qeteb wondered. Throw it at him?
He broke into derisive laughter, and Ur raised her head and regarded him with the bright eyes of hate.
One of her wrinkled, age-spotted hands patted the side of the pot, as if in reassurance.
Urbeth and her daughters had resumed their run. They continued to leap from icefloe to icefloe, but the grey of the ice (just occasionally blue-white, this far north) sometimes appeared to have streaks of ash in it, as if the bears strode over burned and ravaged ground. Above them swirled wisps of emerald light.
DragonStar halted, stunned, as he recognised the person waiting just inside the entrance.
"My, my," StarLaughter said, leaning back against a rock and making full use of the situation to display her body. "Haven't you grown handsome since I last saw you?"
"What are you doing here?" DragonStar asked.
