The Caverns of Kalte

291

When you awake, you sense that something has changed. It takes nearly a minute to realize that the incessant howling of the night winds has ceased. ‘It’s a beautiful morning,’ says Irian cheerfully, his head appearing through the tent flap. You quickly climb out of your sleeping furs and stare out over the icy landscape. The Kalte air is fresh and clear. You see a strong mirage in the distance that seems to throw the land up much higher than it could possibly be.

‘We should make it to “The Rock” by nightfall,’ says Fenor, as he busily pulls a reluctant Kanu-dog into its harness. ‘Best to make camp there tonight. The shelter is good; this far from the sea, a blizzard can whip across the shelf from nowhere in a few minutes. I’ve known trappers to be blown for miles if they’re careless or unlucky enough to be caught out on the shelf with no cover.’

That day, the Kanu-dogs pull strong and true, for the going is smooth across the ice shelf. By nightfall, you have reached ‘The Rock’, a splinter of granite that has thrust through the ice shelf. Its curious shape reminds you of the King’s citadel in Holmgard. You make camp to the leeward side of ‘The Rock’, to avoid the worst of the night winds.

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