Free Haven Magic by B. V. Larson

Modi’s face. “Yes, shelter. There is only I...and the Spinner.”
    “Why didn’t your companion come up with you?” asked Telyn, slipping herself into the narrow space between Jak’s shoulder and the doorjamb. “Is she sick? Too weak to walk?”
    Modi eyed her critically for a few moments before answering. He seemed to see something that made him uncertain. “Gudrin is not sick. She is...burdened. She rests in the boat.”
    Donning their boots, cloaks and hats, the four of them followed Modi down to the docks in the swirling blizzard. The path was pitch-blackness streaked with white. The world lost its form only a few feet away in every direction. Only the stones along the path kept them from losing their way. Brand realized that the hurricane lamps would only have been visible from a few yards out on the river. He wondered if the Battleaxe Folk had keener eyes than did the folk of the River Haven.
    Despite his short legs, Modi marched quickly down the hill. The others had to hurry to keep up, except for Telyn, whose light tread barely seemed to sink into the wind-fluffed powder. Brand was surprised to see that the snow had already piled up in drifts two or three feet high in places. Modi plowed through it all as if it was nothing, giving the impression that snow was no more worthy of notice than mist on a fine morning. Likewise, the freezing wind that whipped his weathered cloak of earthen brown wildly about seemed no more to him than a light summer’s breeze. The questions that they shouted at his back were snatched away by the wind, and in any case he answered them all with only broad, vague gestures of his long, thick arms.
    When they reached the docks they found a small boat there, made of stiff hides sewn together in the fashion of the Battleaxe Folk. In the middle of the leather boat sat a hunched figure wrapped in cloaks. At their approach, the figure stirred, but didn’t rise. Telyn skipped forward, jumping down into the boat beside the figure. Modi stumped forward in sudden concern and stood on the dock, watching her and his companion closely. Brand had a sudden feeling that his eyes were less than friendly. He noted that one bulging fist now gripped the haft of his axe.
    Brand rushed forward, putting a hand on Modi’s huge arm. It felt as if he had grabbed onto a boulder. “There’s no need for that, sir,” he said. “She only wishes to help. She is a good healer.”
    Modi looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. His eyes were the color of tarnished steel. Then he returned his attention to the two in the boat. His hand remained where it was, as if he, Brand, were not worthy of concern. Brand wondered if he could even slow the warrior down, should he decide to act.
    Gudrin rose up and climbed out of the boat. She mounted the dock with deliberate movements that weren’t those of someone frail or sick. She stood on the dock between them all. Telyn jumped up and stood at her side. The River Folk all stared at Gudrin, while she eyed each of them in turn. Modi watched the River Folk. His fist was still firmly planted on the haft of his axe, as if rooted there. Feeling a bit foolish, Brand let his hands slip down to his sides. He knew he was a strong man, very strong for his young years, and he could not but wonder how strong Modi was.
    “That’s enough, Warrior,” said Gudrin. She made a gesture, and Modi reluctantly released his hold on his weapon. “We are clearly among friends.”
    Gudrin, unlike Modi, spoke their tongue flawlessly. Also unlike Modi, she was of normal size for her race, being perhaps four feet in height. The barrel-chested build, long arms and large features were all there, but her hair was dark gray shot through with streaks of white. She wore a black cloak, a tunic and trousers of leather, high boots and an old wide-brimmed hat of stone-gray material. On her back she carried a heavy rucksack of riveted leather and tucked under her arm was a large package of some