The pace he was forced to set to keep warm soon began to take its toll on him.

     He was forced to stop and rest, but before long the icy wind had chilled the slick layer of sweat that covered him and he had to set off again before crippling cramps began setting in. He slowed his pace a little, to stave off the effects of fatigue, but the difference between the warm glow of his body and the chilling numbness of his extremities made him feel strangely giddy. As midday approached he also had hunger to contend with and he cursed his foolishness for setting out without any food. He'd put on a little fat over the past couple of years, though. He wouldn't starve.

     Just as the yellow sun was passing its zenith he crested a ridge and paused for a moment to examine the land laid out below him. A lichen encrusted boulder sheltered him from the wind and faced the sun to create a welcome pocket of warmth, like an air pocket for a diver exploring a submerged wreck.

     The valley below him was wider and greener than the narrow ravine he was leaving, and the stream that had been accompanying him joined others to make a fair sized river. Here and there were pockets of woodland, but mostly the valley was covered by spring heather across which a few sheep grazed, staring stupidly about themselves. The road followed the river for the most part, at one point crossing it by means of an arching stone bridge, and then it climbed the hills ahead of him and disappeared out of sight. Those hills were miles away, and there was no sign in the valley of any kind of habitation. Not even a farmer's cottage.

     His heart sank with despair. He'd been hoping that the view from the ridge would reveal the village to him, but now he could see that he still had hours of walking ahead of him, and for all he knew he might reach the summit of those hills and still see no sign of it beyond. How far away was the village anyway? He seemed to remember Molos Gomm using a figure like sixteen miles, but was that the distance travelled by the road or as the crow flies? What if he was still out in the open when night fell?

     Well, he would die, of course. There was little chance of his surviving the night out in the open. Fool! To have just set off like that, with no food, insufficient clothing, no way to start a fire... He remained by the rock for a few moments longer, enjoying its warmth, then set off once more. However far it was, he had to make it by sundown. He had to!

     As the sky began to darken with the setting of the yellow sun and the iciness of the air took on a sharper bite, Tak began to get seriously worried. He'd reached the summit of the hills only to find dense woodland beyond, which protected him from the wind but concealed who knew what ravenous beasts looking for their supper. And he'd come without even a knife to defend himself with. What was worse, the road had become little more than a narrow track, difficult to follow among the drifts of fallen leaves. What if he'd come to a junction without realising and taken a wrong turning? He refused to even contemplate the possibility. If he'd gone the wrong way, he was dead.

     The sky, where it was visible, was turning a livid pink, heralding a fine day tomorrow, if he was still alive to see it. He pressed on, his limbs long past registering any kind of sensation, his hands nerveless and useless. His skin was an almost transparent white he didn't like at all, wrinkled and shriveled where blood had been withdrawn to the vital organs to conserve warmth. His mind had grown slow and sluggish, and he'd almost walked into the house before he was aware of it.

     He looked up in dull surprise, saw a door in a log wall, and almost collapsed in gratitude and relief. He thumped on the door with his frozen hands, sending bolts of pain up his arms, and kept on knocking until it opened and he fell inside.

☆☆☆

     "Why, it's only a boy," exclaimed Toby Barlow as he half led, half carried the shivering Tak over the threshold and sat him in front of the fire. "Who are you, boy? Where'd you come from?"

     "He's in no state to answer questions," scolded his wife Marly. "Can't you see he's frozen stiff? Let's get some warmth into him first."

     There was a kettle of water warming over a fire. Marly poured some of it into a clay mug and pressed it into Tak's hands. "Sweet Lady! He feels like ice! No, love, don't try to drink it yet. Just hold it. Let it warm your hands."

     Tak obeyed and stared into the steaming liquid. Just water, but hot, and he craved that heat the way a man in the desert craves water. When a few minutes had passed, however, she let him take a tiny sip and it burned his mouth like liquid fire. His hands began to scream in protest as the circulation returned to them.

     "Wonder who he is," mused Toby as they stared curiously at him. "Robes and boots. He's dressed like a lord, but he's not wearing outdoor gear. Could he have escaped from bandits, do you think? Maybe he's the son of a rich family accosted by thieves and rogues."

     "He'll tell you himself soon enough," Marly replied. "Keep a close eye on him for me. I'm going to heat some broth up for him. Supper will be early today."

     "You won't hear me complaining. Wonder if there'll be a reward for his safe return?"

     "If his folks escaped the bandits," came Marly's voice from the next room. She was carefully modulating it to reach her husband and not the boy, but Tak heard anyway. "There may not be anyone left to pay a reward."

     "There'll be someone. Uncles, cousins, that kind of thing. Rich people have rich relatives. There's money in that boy, you mark my word. Hey, boy," he said, raising his voice so Tak could hear him.

     Tak looked up at the grey bearded man, wanting to thank him for taking him in. He felt that he owed him some answers, but then he remembered how unpopular wizards were. Probably best not to tell them the truth just yet, he thought. He felt bad about that, but he could at least tell him no lies.

     "My n-name's T-Tak," he shivered. He took a deep swig of the hot water. The warm glow it made in his stomach was quite possibly the most wonderful thing he'd ever felt. He could feel the chill being driven out of his body like an invading army being repulsed by the King's cavalry.

     "My parents are dead. I live with an old man who found me in a forest and saved me from shologs." He drained the mug, wincing as it scalded his mouth and throat, but it was good. Good! "Could I have some more, please?"

     The man filled the mug again, and Tak cupped both hands around it, hugging it close. He was already feeling almost fully recovered, although ravenously hungry.

     "What were you doing out there, all alone?" demanded Toby, peering closely at him. "It gets cold quickly once the yellow sun sets. You wouldn't have survived much longer."

     "There's a town further down the road, isn't there?" The man nodded. "I have to go there. I have to find a man who was, er, taken ill a few days ago."

     "Then you're a priest, or an acolyte at least," said Toby gladly. "You're going to heal him? Are you old enough to have a God's favour yet? Or perhaps you're just going to sit by him until the priest arrives?" He looked pleased, which Tak could understand. To take in a man, or rather a boy, of the Gods was certain to get him in that God's favour. A bumper crop this year for certain!

     Tak grew uncomfortable. "I'm not a priest, not even an acolyte. I'm dressed like this because it's all I could find to wear. My master doesn't let me have my own clothes, except for a simple white robe. He, he makes use of me. In his bed." The fact that he belonged to a wizard was sure to come out sooner or later. Before it did, he had to get their sympathy. Make them see him not as their enemy but as another victim. He had to get them on his side.

     Toby scowled angrily. "So you're running away?" he grunted. "Good for you, boy."

     Tak shook his head. "I have to go back to him. It's complicated. He has a hold over me. I can't escape. First, though, I have to find the man who was taken ill. Can you tell me his name? He has a daughter called Lyssa."

     "Lyssa, aye." The man's scowl deepened. "Carried off by that devil spawn that lives in the old castle." He made a sign of protection against evil with his hand.

     Tak shivered, but with fear this time. Things were worse than he'd thought. Devil spawn?

     "He's not ill," Toby continued, his voice low and ominous, filled with bitter hatred. "Cursed by that devil wizard. His daughter carried off to feed his wicked lusts in return for her father's life. And who'll be next, eh? Maybe my own daughter Maggie!"

     His hands were clenched into fists and Tak shrank back in fear. Marly came forward, though, and waved her hands at her husband to shut him up.

     "There now, lad," she said comfortingly. "No need to be afraid. It'll be a good few days before he sets foot outside his walls again. We're safe for now."

     "Aye," said Toby, "But when I think of that poor sweet girl, perhaps kneeling before him even now..."

     "Now don't go upsetting our guest, you old fool," scolded Marly, shuffling back in, carrying a cooking pot that she hung over the fire next to the kettle. "It's bad enough that such things should happen without us harping on about them. He'll come to a bad end, his sort always do, and till then best thing we can do is keep to our own business and leave him to his. The Gods will see that he gets what he deserves in the next life."

     "And till then that poor girl has to suffer at the hands of that brute..."

     His wife shushed him up, her eyes wide with fear. "Do you want to bring down his curses upon us all? Folks like us can't do anything against a wizard!" She made the same sign of protection her husband had made and whispered a prayer to the Gods. "Do you want to be the next one his evil eye falls on? Do you want our own Maggie to be the next one carried off? I feel for poor Lyssa, of course I do, but in a few days she'll be back with her family and his eye will look elsewhere. All we can do is make things worse for those poor people."

     Toby grumbled unhappily. "Aye, I suppose you're right, but one day he'll get what he deserves. One day the whole town'll rise up against him, and..."

     "For the love of the Gods!" cried Marly in real panic, staring in the direction of the mountains as if Molos Gomm were even now on his way down to punish them. "He has eyes and ears everywhere! He knows what we say! Such talk'll get us cursed for certain!"

     "I don't think there's much chance of that," said Tak, though. "He does have means to spy on people, of course he does, but not even he can watch everyone all the time and he wouldn't want to even if he could. He has more important things to occupy his attention."

     "You must be a stranger to these parts to say such things," scowled Marly, stirring the cooking pot with a long wooden spoon. "The birds of the air and the beasts of the field tell him everything that goes on in these parts below. Even mice and beetles report back what they see. We could tell you stories. Oh yes, so we could."

     Tak nearly denied what she said, having learned enough about the use of magic to know that even the most powerful wizard could only borrow the eyes and ears of a single animal at a time, and Molos Gomm couldn't do it at all. After some thought, though, he decided it was no bad thing if they thought he was more powerful than he really was. It might deter them from storming the castle which, even if successful, would no doubt cost many of them their lives. Even without Molos Gomm, Philip had shown an early interest in death spells. It was the one area in which he showed any real aptitude.

     Silence fell in the cottage that reminded Tak so much of his own cabin, burned to the ground by shologs. He found it stirring achingly powerful feelings of homesickness and loneliness in him. He wanted his parents. He wanted his mother to wrap a thick, wooly blanket around him to keep him warm. He wanted his father to ruffle his hair and tell him how big and strong he was getting. He wanted Laira nagging him and bossing him around. He wanted his old life back. The life that Molos Gomm had stolen from him.

     Toby stared moodily into the fire, looking as though he regretted his harsh words, as if afraid the old wizard really had heard him, while Marly stirred the cooking pot in silence. When it was hot enough she ladled it out into three wooden bowls and handed one to Tak along with a wooden spoon. Tak wolfed it down, even though it scalded his mouth, and finished off a second helping before the fatigue of the day's exertions finally began to overcome him.

     "Come on," said Toby, seeing his weariness. "You can have Jame's bed. He can share with Will for one night."

     Tak nodded as he was gently lifted to his feet and led towards a ladder leading up through a hole in the ceiling. "You're very kind," he mumbled. Sleepiness had never come upon him so quickly before. He could hardly keep his eyes open. "The Gods bless you for your kindness."