Upon reaching the base of the mountain path, Fey stopped to take a short break before the continued at a more leisurely pace. The walls of the Ranokeim camp had long since vanished from view, but it would be best to keep moving in case Opal sent out a patrol to find her.
She glanced up the snowed in path that went up into the mountains estimating how deep it might have been. Despite the wind that raced across the tundra for several days, it looked like the snow was still deep.
"It appears that it may take us a bit longer to get there. I'm not sure how much of the pass is covered in snow, but other areas tend to go for a couple miles before clearing up," she said.
"I can try to blow out a path for us, if you think that could work," Fredrik offered.
Fey turned to him and cocked her head to the side. "How so?"
"It's the skill that probably made your grandmother believe our dad was a god. Almost everyone from Trojeim is trained from an early age to use it."
He took a few steps forward until the snow reached up to his knees. With a quick succession of the Trojeimian hand signs, Fredrik blew a cloud of snow out to the side creating a shallow trench a few feet before him.
"It takes a bit more control to push the aura further, but this is what I can do so far."
"Incredible..."
Serena patted Fey's shoulder. "Just wait until you see him when he's serious. I don't think he'll ever stop impressing me."
After a few more minutes of rest, the party began their ascent. As they made their way further up, they saw how the tundra seemed to cover their entire field of vision.
Distant swirls of snow danced amidst the small humps of snow drifts while the blurry figures of animals raced across the over expanses. It took a perceptive eye to make it out, but the faint border of Trist could be seen by the line of tall trees hiding the smaller buildings.
"Hey Fey," Fredrik started, "how much do you know of the Ranokeim's connection to Trojeim?"
"Oh just about all there is to know; I've learned almost all of the history of my people. My favorite parts were the stories of Joric Whiteclaw and Val Ghendeim. Why do you ask?"
He held out his hand pushing another shower of snow off to the side. "I wanted to ask if you'd tell us about the Ranokeim while we're walking. We can trade off to help pass the time while we walk."
"I suppose that wouldn't hurt anything. I guess I should start at the beginning or, at least, what we consider to be the beginning," she replied.
"Before the Ranokeim tribe was gathered, and before Trojeim existed, Joric Whiteclaw and Val Ghendeim were akin to brothers. Their families lived close together before the big three came to Verona, so they spent a lot of time together in a place south of here."
"As time went on, and Nightwalker declared war, they became wary of what would happen to their families and friends. Val had been approached by the leader of the Pyria branch to become an elementalist. At that point, he promised to return one day and asked Joric to watch over his family while he was gone."
"Months passed by, and no word had been received from Val. Many feared that he was killed by the living shadows that plagued the land. A few days, after planning to hold a memorial for him, Val returned to his home with tales of horror."
"Being the leader of his clan, and Joric the leader of his, Val discussed his plan of moving them to the north into the mountains. He feared what would happen to them should they remain this far south, but Joric said it would bring dishonor to his clan if they didn't fight."
"Val knew that Joric wouldn't change his mind, but he pleaded for him not to risk the horrors that awaited his warriors. A few weeks, after the meeting, Val Ghendeim and Joric Whiteclaw parted ways about two-thirds of the way through the war. Val then created the stronghold of Trojeim and unaffiliated himself with the Pyria branch."
Fey fell into a short silence leaving the others entranced by her story.
"A year later, Val received word that a group of people had settled at the base of the Carthian mountains. It turned out to be Joric Whiteclaw and all that remained of his clan. He left the stronghold to meet with his old friend and found that he had experienced far worse than he had."
"Joric talked about how his warriors managed to win several victories against the common man along the outskirts of the main battles. Those bolstered their morale as they continued to push south. It wasn't until they encountered the living shadows Val spoke of that they realized how futile it was to fight in the war."
"Val offered Joric help, but he refused and said it would come to serve as a valuable lesson for them. With little to offer, Val left Joric with a parting gift of a beautiful crown that was retired to our reliquary room when we developed the masks as the Ranokeim. At that point, Joric lost touch with Val and they drifted apart to where we are today."
"In fact, the closest the two have been since that time was when William helped in the civil war, at least until now. I'm not sure what drew him to help us, or how he knew, but we've attributed it to the bond that was between Val Ghendeim and Joric Whiteclaw."
"That's so incredible and tragic," Ashe commented.
Fey let out a half-hearted chuckle. "Stories from times of war often have tragedy, but it is an incredible story. Usually it's told to the entire tribe and the head storytellers perform it around a bonfire. I'm sure they'd do their memories more justice than I can."
"I think it was rather nice for a walking story. I would like to attend one of these performances, though, and see what it's all about," Chi-tai commented. "Of course, that's if Magnus isn't banished for aiding in your escape and in turn banning our return."
"I'll be sure to calm my mother down when we come back. That way she'll be less likely to kill one of you, and we'll just have a long lecture."
"You know I've been meaning to ask how you speak Veronian so well even with the accent. It seems like other than Opal and Magnus, you are the only one among the Ranokeim to speak it," Fredrik said.
"Comes with the position, my dear brother. Part of being the leader of the Ranokeim means communicating in a common tongue with people. Veronian is what most people know along with their own languages because it was necessary for everyone to communicate during the great war."
Another shower of snow fell to the side where a wisp of ice crystals was carried into the air. "It's still impressive that you know it so well. I only learned a little Veronian growing up in Trojeim, but a friend taught me how to speak it fluently."
"You'll have to share that story next then; I would like to learn more about you and where you've been, Fredrik," Fey requested.
"If the others don't mind hearing about things again, then I'll try to keep it brief."
They let out soft chuckles when the wind falls out, suddenly, leaving them in deafening silence. Before Fredrik is given the chance to begin his story, a sharp crack echoed across the mountainside causing them all to freeze in place.
****
Madeline ended up leaving the room her and Morgan were staying in to get some fresh air. After hearing about the effects of prolonged training, she was a bit more tentative to continue, but she still felt the need to try.
The more she thought about the impact on the user, the more it made her think about how it might have shaped Fredrik learning the Trojeimian Arts at such a young age. If it really did require them to turn off emotions, then what had Fredrik not been able to experience in Trojeim?
She shook her head and slapped her cheeks. This was no time to dwell on what had already come to pass. Madeline steeled her nerves and decided to find a way around the obstacle that kept her from progressing further.
Fredrik could hold his own when the time came—what mattered most was being able to hold her own so that he wouldn't have to worry. She thought back to how the tales of other Disciples had them perishing in battles or being used solely as a weapon of war. There was one that had not been involved in war, but it came to be that they were called upon during great times of need—most ended up being times of war and strife.
Based on what was beginning to develop—from the sil'lis raid, another Disciple being chosen, and the attempt on Fredrik's life—it would be foolish to think there wasn't another war brewing.
All she could do now, though, was keep her eyes forward and practice. She would find Fredrik soon and Morgan would be able to see her brother again. As she stepped down to the first stair, the fur on the nape of her neck bristled as if a cold hand pressed against her skin.
Madeline spun around to see if someone had snuck up behind her to find herself alone in the hall. Another shiver went down her spine when she thought about the strange sensation before continuing down the staircase.
If that was a draft, then I hope they fix that soon.
****
Fey looked around hoping to see a cascade of white on another cliff face that belonged the crack they all heard. Her heart sank to her stomach as her head snapped upwards.
She found the cascade she was looking for.
"EVERYONE TO THE BASE OF THE WALL! NOW!"
They barely had a moment to register what was happening before the curtain of snow crashed down on the path with a roar. The world fell silent once more leaving an expansive sheet of snow on what had been the Jaded Edge Pass.