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They came to the Spur in the midst of a howling blizzard .

It hadn’t been bad, in the early stages of the climb.

A brief warm spell might have tempted Remin to think it would be a pleasant journey, and the sky was clear enough that he could see the smoke rising all the way from the camp.

Proof that they still lived.

In some ways, the mountains were safer than the valley.

The devils could not attack in a mass on those narrow paths: wolf demons were too big to pursue them there, and ghouls were too cowardly to attack so many men.

As night fell, Remin ordered everyone to don their helmets and tighten steel gorgets around their throats, forming a living palisade with their own shivering bodies.

Bonfires blazed behind them, heating their backs, and every other man shut his eyes and leaned on his neighbor, dozing while he could.

“Strangler!”

someone shouted down the line, and Remin heard the wet thud of steel into flesh, and then a high, rasping screech as the creature was flung off the mountain.

Then there was only the soft whistle of the wind, rising with a stinging chill.

The nights were endless.

How well he remembered this routine from the war, rising to take his turn feeding the fire, stamping life back into his feet.

Turning back, night-blind now, straining his ears for the slightest noise of crackling ice, the hissing breath of a stalking strangler.

There was no way to mark the passage of time here, no water clocks or six-hour candles, so he sought out Heresh, the Star of Wanderers, and ordered his men to rotate every time it descended a finger closer to the horizon.

When dawn cracked red over the sky, they rose and moved on.

Five days.

Hard experience had taught them how to survive these mountains, measuring their strength for a steady, endless plod through ice and snow.

They dressed in layers of wool, leather, and fur, calling out landmarks and vistas they recalled from their campaigns here.

At dusk, every man sat down and changed his socks, then checked his neighbor’s feet, poking painfully at fingers and toes to search for those fatal white spots.

Any man that did not care for his feet in such cold was a dead man.

Six days.

They crossed one range and moved onto the next, descending into blissful warmth for a few hours, where streams were still flowing and the leaves were not wholly lost from the trees.

In a stand of pine, there was a sudden thrashing in the underbrush and a buck bolted ahead of them, hooves scrabbling on the loose scree .

Five arrows struck it almost simultaneously.

“That’s supper,”

said Jinmin, slapping his vast belly and moving immediately to butcher the animal.

He and Remin spent the rest of the day trading the carcass back and forth, saving the precious meat for their supper.

They climbed.

Halfway up the mountain, the sky clouded over and ice pellets began to sting, ripping at any exposed skin.

Two men were lost the next day, one when he slipped on a patch of ice and the other when he grabbed to save him.

Their screams ended in a sudden, horrible silence, and with them went their packs and gear.

One had been carrying spare torches.

Remin burned blue incense for them that night and prayed that Bet Agasse would open the way to paradise.

In the back of his mind, he was constantly calculating.

He knew how to measure distance, whether it was on foot, on horse, or by wagon.

How much food was left, after they ate the buck? How much water? How often would they find clean snow and ice to melt? How much further did they dare go, before they had to turn back or risk starvation? He had planned for ten days in the mountains, but the high altitude and hard labor was all but melting their flesh away.

He counted as they marched all the next day, snow crunching beneath their boots.

It would be easier to descend than ascend, so at their current pace, they might have two more nights—

“My lord!”

Something huge burst through the snow and bowled him off his feet.

The deafening howl of a wolf demon sounded almost on top of his head as Remin went down sprawling under Jinmin, who had been clinging to him like a guard dog.

Fortunately, the mountain had opened up a little and gave them some room to maneuver, but he barely had time to get his shield up before the devil was on them.

“Get back! Shields up!”

he roared over the storm.

It took a formation to handle a wolf demon, and someone was going to lose an arm or a leg if they came charging in a mass.

Was it night already? It didn’t matter, it was so dark in the snow it might as well be, and if this ground was wide enough to maneuver, it was wide enough for more wolf demons.

“Get some torches lit!”

This was bad.

How many devils might there be? How could they stand them off? Jinmin rose from the snow beside him like a new kind of devil, massive and furious, and if anyone had a chance of taking down a wolf demon, it was the two of them.

They had to kill it quick, before it got into his men.

Before another—

Something smashed into him from behind so hard his ears rang.

“My lord! Rem—!”

Jinmin thundered, but from further away now, and it was sheer instinct that made Remin get up again.

His shield was gone, but by the stars, he still had his sword.

Where was Jinmin? Someone was dead, he could hear cries and groaning and the snow was splashed red with blood.

Snow crunched to his right and Remin whipped around, shoving up from his knees to slam his arm into the devil’s jaws.

Fuck, that hurt!

Those powerful jaws clamped onto his arm like two boulders grinding together, but his armor protected him from the many rows of serrated teeth and Remin wrapped his other arm around the back of the devil’s head and held on, his legs screaming as he charged into the creature.

He didn’t dare let go, its feet were skidding over the surface of the snow, clawing for purchase.

Hot, foul breath blasted in his face.

He could feel his own muscles and bones popping as he wrenched hundreds of pounds of devil around, trying to either put it on the ground or break its neck.

“Rem! To your right!”

Auber bellowed, and Remin dug his left foot in and swung about hard, putting all his weight and strength behind it, clutching the devil’s head to his chest as it slavered and tried to yank away.

Auber’s sword arced out, decisive as a headsman’s axe.

Thud.

Crunch.

And suddenly, all he was holding was the head.

“Are you insane?!”

Auber shouted somewhere in the whirl of snow and blood, but there was no time to contemplate whether this might be true.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

Another howl rose, and further away there was the dogfight noises of a pack of ghouls, and for a long time there was nothing but blood and screaming.

Was it already night? Remin was never able to answer this question.

The snow whirled and the wind screamed, and he could hardly see his hand in front of his face.

Roaring, he rallied his men together, pushing on to find a more defensible position.

Wolf demons pursued.

He and Jinmin held them off together, standing rearguard as Tounot led from the front, hacking away the stranglers clambering up the cliffs like shadowy spiders. How many men died? He saw four fall himself, even stepped in the messy remains of someone’s head, and he dully wished he hadn’t seen that one blue eye, still intact and wide with horror.

It got darker.

More than once, he had to rip stranglers off himself and the men around him, smashing their skulls in his hands.

Someone shouted a warning.

Someone else screamed as he fell off the side of the mountain.

It was dark and cruel and chaos, a nightmare of howling devils and bitter cold, and Remin circled the perimeter of his surviving men like a vast shepherd dog, shoving them together up the mountain.

“Keep up!”

he roared again and again, the wind tearing the words from his mouth.

“Stay together! Hold onto the man beside you!”

Sometimes the weight of command was a burden.

Tomorrow, he would have to learn how many were dead because of him.

But on nights like tonight, it was a blessing.

Remin didn’t know if he was brave.

He couldn’t tell if he was afraid. Maybe, if he had been alone, he would have been an utter coward. But with all his men watching, he could not afford to be. Anything less than constant, unshakeable courage would have been a betrayal.

And in the snatches of quiet, when the wind dropped and the snow settled and he had a moment to breathe, he thought of Ophele.

He had promised her he would come home.

Sometime during that endless night, the storm finally abated.

And when the sun broke through the clouds the next morning and the exhausted men began to dig themselves out of the snow, it was for Remin to decide whether to cut their losses, or go on.

“Eight men dead,”

Tounot reported.

After a month on the march, his beard was coming in grandly, and his eyes were socketed with weariness.

“Six injured.

Three badly.”

“Bad enough to die, or bad enough to need help down the mountain?”

“Unlikely to die,”

Tounot conceded, and the lines drew deep in Remin’s face as he weighed his choices.

“Get some hot food into everyone,”

he said, and went to have a look around .

There were many factors to consider.

He had only been planning to continue for a few more days anyway; that time was necessarily shortened by the fact that they had lost significant supplies last night.

And they could not all go on, regardless.

If he wanted to continue, he would have to divide his force.

There was no telling how dangerous that might be. What if another blizzard blew up? What if the devils came again as they had last night?

Grimacing, he flexed his arm as he thought.

He didn’t think anything was broken, but his left arm had swelled up so badly, the straps of his armor were cutting into his flesh.

He would not like to try climbing with it.

But they had found nothing.

The whole point of this expedition was to find some indication of where the devils were coming from.

Eight men had died last night.

Two died yesterday.

One more in the forest. Those lives had been sacrificed so they would learn more about their enemy, and so save the lives of many more in the years to come.

Why had there been so many devils last night? he thought, frustrated, frowning at the wide blue sky.

Wait.

Why had there been so many devils?

“You stay here,”

he told Tounot and Jinmin.

“I’ll leave twelve men with you.

Use the day to build some defenses, you have enough trees nearby for barricades and fire.

Auber, with me.

The rest of us are going on.”