She was alone.
Jolette sat in the snow like someone waking from a dream. Around her the wind whistled on, the snowflakes settling thickly on her clothes, already filling the trail of footsteps she had left. There were no more shapes passing by. It was just her and the forces of nature, and somewhere, far ahead, the companions she had run away from.
What had happened?
She only remembered it dimly. For the past hours, maybe the past days, she had been walking in a daze, paying attention to nothing but the shapes of the villagers passing by her. Shapes that, looking back, had obviously been nothing but hallucinations.
But in her daze, in her panic, she had followed them. To where, she did not know.
Jolette scrambled up, patting the snow off her clothes, squinting against the incoming snowflakes. It was hard to hear anything but the whistling of the wind in her ears. It was hard to see further than a few feet. All she knew was that her trail was still there, deep and hasty, and she only needed to follow it back.
So, with the wind at her back, she walked, hoping that at least this time she wasn't following an illusion. She only hoped that she hadn't run far. She also hoped the others had chosen to wait where they were instead of running after her. Otherwise she would have got them all lost.
She was tired, she realized as she walked. Her feet were heavy. When was the last time she had rested properly? When was the last time she had eaten any more than a morsel, for that matter?
Something dark interrupted her thoughts, fading out of the white, growing from the edge of her vision to a stripe that came closer and closer. The river, she realized. That was good news. Wherever she had run to, she hadn't got lost entirely.
But even as she grew closer, she realized the river wasn't as empty as it had been before.
A small row-boat pushed slowly down along the waters. Where it came from she could not guess; there were almost no towns or villages along the Whitewell these days, and the few houses between here and the mountains stood far from the cold water. In many places it was too shallow and rocky for boats, even ones as small as the one in front of her.
For a moment she wondered if this boat, too, was a hallucination, but from the beginning it felt different. It was no silhouette, no silent, ghostly form. It looked, as far as she could tell, real, and as she crept closer she caught snippets of voices drifting to her over the sound of the snowstorm.
"Blasted weather, I tell you," said an old man's voice from the back of the ship. "No use a-telling me to go faster. Sailing down the bloody Whitewell in a bloody snowstorm! It's a miracle you ain't all drownded yet."
The passengers, hooded and cloaked figures in gray, made no response. There was no indication that they had listened to the old ferryman at all.
Jolette crept closer.
"An' I don't care how much money you give me, mind," the old man went on. "You ain't got no right sittin' there actin' all high an' mighty, you lot should at least—"
"Ferryman," a female voice interrupted him. "Silence."
Jolette froze where she stood. A chill ran down her back, even colder than the snowstorm around her.
This kind of voice...she knew what it meant.
"All right, all right," the ferryman rambled on, but now his voice was noticeably tinged with fear. "Meaning no offense, ma'am."
"If you mean no offense," said the woman, "go faster."
"I'm tellin' yer, that's dangerous—"
"It would be faster on foot." The woman's voice took on a threatening edge. "We must reach the havens as quickly as possible. Go faster."
Jolette was shivering.
The Colorless. The Colorless were heading down the river. Her companions were also following the river. If the boat went faster, they would overtake them. They might spot them. And then...Edmian—
Something needed to be done. Something to slow them, just long enough until Jolette could warn the others to hide.
What would Saryana do? She might do what she had done before and tie up everyone in the boat and threaten them with a sword. But Jolette had neither rope nor sword, nor the strength to take on several full-grown Colorless at once. What would Lisha do? Cast a spell, maybe, but Jolette was no sorceress. Evariel might take his bow and arrows and shoot them before they knew what was happening. Aithal—
She had no idea what Aithal would do. And if she did, she knew she wouldn't be able to do the same.
She only had herself here. And she, Jolette, an ordinary girl from a village, needed to find a way to deal with this. Her own way.
But...they were in the middle of the river. So what could she do?
Throw something, perhaps. But what? No rocks, that was for sure. Everything around here was buried under the—
Snow. The snow.
An image appeared in front of her eyes, almost forgotten during her journey. An image of her childhood, freezing cold winters...and snowball fights.
Snowball fights that, most of the time, she had won, so many times that the boys had refused to play against her anymore. Her snowballs were hard and well-aimed. The boat was still within throwing distance, moving slowly around the rocks and ice floes.
Crouching down, she hid deeper in the snow, formed a ball in her hands, took aim, and threw.
The ball hit hard against a cloaked figure's head. The others turned around. Jolette ducked low and held her breath, hoping they couldn't spot her from where they stood.
Time stood still. There was a long silence.
"It seems," said one of the Colorless voices, "someone is in the snow. Shall we find them?"
"No," said the woman's voice. "Waste no time. It seems to be no serious threat. Ferryman," she added, "go faster."
"I'm tellin' yer," the man replied, "I'm tryin'!"
Jolette swallowed. This was the opposite of what she had wanted. Hastily she formed another snowball, ignoring the freezing pain in her fingers. Once more she threw. Another cloaked figure went down.
"Faster, ferryman," said the woman's voice. "We must outrun this person."
With frantic hands Jolette formed a third snowball, apologized mentally to the poor ferryman, and threw.
The snowball hit its aim. The ferryman lost balance and fell over sideways, dangerously tipping the boat. The ferry drifted on unchecked and drove against a rock with a crunch.
Before anyone could react, Jolette jumped to her feet and ran down the river.
A shout followed her, then more voices. She ran faster. They must have seen her now, she knew. She needed to hurry. She had to reach the others before the Colorless spotted them, or all of this would have been for nothing. She needed to be faster than her followers, a thousand times faster.
There was splashing behind her, but she didn't turn around. She already knew what it meant. The Colorless were crossing the river to come after her. No need to panic. The water was freezing, and they were fully clothed. They would need to put all their strength in trying not to drown.
The snow was deep. Her feet were heavy. Over and over she slipped and stumbled, over and over she got stuck. She still could not see far ahead. All she could do was follow the course of the river until she found her companions.
More voices. Her pursuers were somewhere behind her, she knew. Still there was no trace of her friends. She ran faster.
Her lungs...her lungs were freezing. She was gasping and coughing for breath, her head swimming, but still she didn't dare slow down. Just a little longer, she told herself, a little further. She must have left them here somewhere. It couldn't have been this far.
Then, suddenly, she stumbled over a tree-root and found herself at the entrance of the forest.
Jolette slipped between the trees, drawing breath. Her lungs hurt. She could barely do more than gasp and wheeze. Her limbs were shaky. Where was she? No, that wasn't the question. She knew they hadn't come this far before. So where on earth was everyone else?
Should she try to shout? The Colorless didn't know Edmian's name, did they?
The voices behind her came closer.
Jolette straightened up. Her eyes roamed the snowy forest. There was undergrowth here, but at least she was sheltered from the snowstorm. If she was the others, she would have hidden in here. Set up camp? Was it time for that already?
The voices came closer.
Screw it.
"Edmian!" she screamed into the forest with every last remnant of her raspy, frozen lungs.
No answer.
"Edmian!" she tried again. "Everyone!"
There was another silence, then, deeper in the forest, a familiar voice answered. "Jolette?"
"Evariel?" she shouted, following the sound.
"I found her!" Evariel's voice rang out of the woods. Jolette picked up her speed again, running towards the sound. The Colorless were on her heels now, she knew it. They must have heard the voice as well as she had.
Ignoring the cold air, her dizziness, her exhaustion, she ran like her life depended on it. She clambered over fallen trees. She jumped over branches and crashed through bushes. This was something she knew how to do.
And then, suddenly, she darted through the undergrowth and found herself face to face with her companions.
Six different faces met her with six different expressions. Edmian simply looked relieved. Saryana, meanwhile, was furious. Everyone else was in between.
"You!" Saryana burst out, marching towards her. "What did you think you were doing, running off like—"
"Run," Jolette managed out.
Saryana stopped short. "What?"
"Colorless. Behind us." Jolette pointed over her shoulder. "Run."
"I'd ask you to explain, but that can wait for a safer place." Aithal herded the group together, leading them into the woods. "Let us go. And quietly!"
In a moment they left the clearing where they had taken shelter from the snowstorm, pushing deeper into the woods. No one spoke a word. Jolette tagged along with shaky legs. She still couldn't breathe. There was no time to rest now.
Without a word Saryana offered her arm, letting her hang onto it as they made their way through the undergrowth, scrambling through thorny bushes and under thick pine branches, the needles smacking them in the face. Jolette gasped and wheezed and shivered, clinging to Saryana's arm like a lifeline. Edmian glanced back at them from a few steps ahead. He looked like he was watching them, but Jolette couldn't guess why.
"Our trail," she managed as soon as she had enough breath to speak. "Aren't they gonna...gonna find it?"
Lisha lifted her staff up in response. "Leave that to me," she said. "Go straight and go fast. I assure you, they will find no footprints as long as you're with me."
Falling behind, she let the group pass them, even Saryana, who hesitated for a moment before pulling Jolette along. Without caring for their footprints in the snow they broke through the thickets, running and running until they hit the river-bank and all around them was nothing but silence.
"Did we lose them?" Aithal asked, propping himself up on his knees and catching his breath.
"I think so," Evariel replied, listening and staring into the woods. "I can't see or hear them."
Jolette collapsed on the ground, gasping, coughing and shaking. Within seconds Edmian was beside her, looking at a loss for what to do.
"Leave her, lad," came Zamrod's voice from somewhere above. "She just needs to rest."
"I'm...fine," Jolette managed out, fully aware of how unconvincing she sounded. "Ran too hard."
"Too hard and in too cold air," Saryana remarked, kneeling down and beginning to rub gentle circles on her back. "It's dangerous to your airways. I'd say, 'Don't do it again,' but it's not like you had a choice."
Jolette didn't answer. She only remained flat on the ground, waiting for her strength to come back.
"Well," a voice said after a pause, "that will leave them puzzled for some time."
Saryana straightened up. "Lisha!"
Sure enough, there was the sorceress breaking through the thickets and looking mightily pleased with herself. "There are enough footsteps in this forest now to get them lost for days," she said smugly, setting down her staff. "We shall be safe here for some time, at least until they manage to repair their boat." She sat down with the others. "Now tell me, girl. How did you come upon them, and what happened then?"
Pushing herself off the ground, Jolette sat up, hastily telling the tale of her encounter. The others listened intently, and when she was finished, Evariel burst out laughing.
"Snowballs!" he exclaimed, clutching his sides. "What an idea! And here they say mortals don't have any balls!"
Jolette smirked. After all this time of feeling useless, getting praised for her deeds seemed all the sweeter.
"It was dangerous is what it was," Saryana replied, though even she couldn't hide that she was impressed. "You could've been killed! You're lucky you hit so well and ran so fast."
"It's not luck, it's practice," Jolette answered.
"All the same," said Aithal, "you did as well as any of us could have wished to. But I'm worried about their comment on the havens."
Lisha nodded grimly. "So am I. Boarding a ship to Jadiria may prove difficult."
Saryana's head shot up. "You don't mean—?"
"The havens being guarded already? That, my dear Saryana, is precisely what I fear."
Saryana was quiet. Then she shook her head. "Not that."
"We could sneak past them," Aithal offered, only to be met with exasperated stares.
"Yeah, slip right under their guard," Saryana said sarcastically. "That worked so well the last few times."
Aithal cracked a wry smile. "That is true."
"What would you have us do?" Saryana asked, turning to Lisha. "You're the wisest here. Do you think we should risk the havens?"
Lisha furrowed her brow in deep thought.
"No," she said at length. "Not necessarily."
Jolette sat straight. "What?"
"There is another way," the sorceress went on. "One that, in this season and with horses, should not be any slower than the way to Jadiria by ship."
Saryana jumped up.
"No way," she said. "It's suicidal."
"No more suicidal than daring the havens when we are already wanted by the people of Firland," Lisha replied, "to say nothing of the Colorless."
"Nobody knows what's out there."
"I have passed there. People used to live there. It is not the unforgiving wilderness, nor a den of monsters, General Saryana." Lisha fixed her with sharp eyes. "I shall guide you. If this goes awry, you can blame it all on me."
Saryana still didn't look happy, but she made no response. Aithal sighed and nodded. Zamrod rose to his feet.
"I know what lies there," he said. "I vote for that road."
Jolette looked at Edmian, then at the rest of the group. Their faces were grim, but she understood nothing.
"Wait," she said. "What road are you all talking about?"
Saryana sighed and motioned towards Lisha. "This is your idea. You tell the kids."
"The road I mean," the sorceress answered, "is the way to Jadiria over land. We will not head to the ocean here. We are turning southeast."
Jolette held her breath. "But that way—"
"That is right," said Lisha. "We are venturing through the Empty Lands."