Free The Eye of the Hunter by Dennis L. McKiernan

their way up and to the glacier, to come to “the light of the Bear,” or so she deemed.
    “Strak! Strak!”
called B’arr, now telling Shlee to follow, the course, the command echoed by the following sledmasters as into the canyon they ran.
    Up a gradual slope they fared, coming to the distant turn, only to find another turn before them. And another after, and more, as they wrenched and twisted deeper into the mountains.
    The daytide ebbed, and shadows clustered thickly in the sheer-walled slot. And the farther they ran, the slower went the teams, despite the sledmasters’ urgings.
    “Is it the slope?” called Faeril to B’arr. “Do the dogs tire?”
    “No, little
Mygga
,” responded the sledmaster. “Dog no want to come into this place.”
    Another mile or two they ran, and still the dogs slowed. And then without command, Shlee turned the full team and stopped, refusing to go any farther.
    Into Gwylly’s mind sprang the image of Black refusing to go into one of the “closed” places in the Weiunwood. Black had not seemed to fear the place, but simply to respect it instead.
    Yet when Gwylly looked at Shlee, he saw that although the lead dog was not cowering, still his hackles were raised, and he seemed to be saying,
Bad! Place bad!
    Gwylly twisted about and saw that Laska and Garr had also turned their
spans
and would run this way no more.
    “B’arr?” Faeril’s unspoken question seemed to hang or the cold air.
    “Shlee know, little one. Trust Shlee. He know.” B’arr turned and called to Tchuka and Ruluk.
“Ikke mer. Vi vende tilbake
.”
    Turning once more to the Warrows, the sledmaster’s bronze features reflected the worry he felt. “We go back You come. Not safe. Shlee know. Laska know. Garr know. All dog know. Trust dog. All know.”
    Riatha and Aravan dismounted from their sleds and trudged across the snow to come to B’arr’s side.
    Faeril struggled out of the fur blankets and stepped from the sled basket. “B’arr says that we must turn back.” Her face was stricken with uncertainty. Gwylly stepped free and put his arm about her.
    B’arr looked Riatha in the eye. “Shlee know,
Infé
. Shlee know. This bad place.”
    Riatha sighed. “I know, Sledmaster, what the dogs deem. Yet we must go on.”
    B’arr turned to Aravan.
“Anfé
, tell
Infé
she must turn back. All must go from this bad place. All dog, all Alute, all
Mygga
, all
Fé
. Place
vond
…evil. Dog
know
!”
    Aravan shrugged. “We have no choice, Sledmaster. Our way lies yon.” Aravan pointed up into the defile.
    Riatha turned to the Waerlinga. “Once again these mountains have become a place where evil dwells. I had hoped that it had not yet reached this side of the Grimwall.” Riatha looked at the dogs. “But given the actions of the dogs, of Laska and Garr and Shlee, I deem that the
Spaunen
or worse have now come into this region as well.”
    Faeril’s heart was hammering, and she did not trust hervoice. Nevertheless, she glanced at the waning sky and hitched her bandoliers into a more comfortable position, the look on her face now resolute. “Then let us gather our things and go.”
    At a nod from Gwylly and Aravan, Riatha turned and made her way back to Tchuka’s sled, where she began to gather up her gear, as did Aravan at Ruluk’s sled, and Gwylly and Faeril at B’arr’s.
    Riatha slipped a waterskin under her coat where it would not freeze. She slung her sword in its scabbard across her back, and then shouldered the already prepared frame pack, settling it so that it did not interfere with the sword.
    Aravan also slung a waterskin under his parka, then strapped his long-knife in its thigh scabbard onto his leg. He slipped his arms through the shoulder straps of his frame pack, buckling the chest belt across. Last, he took his black-hafted, crystal-bladed spear in hand, then turned to the others.
    Gwylly’s sling was looped through his belt next to the sling-bullet pouches, and his dagger was affixed to the