Cold … and damp. He dug at the thick mat of grass roots that covered the earth here. It was wet and frigid. He couldn’t tear through – he was too weak. On his knees now, he drew his blade and pushed it into the ground. Two-handed, he cut a triangle, then wearily, as carefully as he could manage, he resheathed the weapon. He gathered up a handful of the grass and heaved. He had to put all his weight into it, leaning back. It came in a ripping and tearing of roots and he fell on to his back.

It took a while for the dizziness to pass.

He crawled forward and sank his arms up to the elbows to dig at the cold earth beneath. He came up with a fist of hard dirt, frosty-white, and speckled with earth. It took him a while to understand what he was looking at: the very ground frozen solid. A knot of ice that must have resided here for years, perhaps for untold centuries. He thrust the entire ball into his mouth and held it there.

The pain was exquisite. His head numbed and ached. It felt as if that knot of frost had expanded to engulf his entire body. Something told him that if anyone from another region, another land, had tried what he had just so impetuously done they would have died. Something, some power, residing in this ancient ice would have overcome them.

Yet he felt somehow … rejuvenated. He stood, steady now on his feet, and lurched onward.

He entered a wide forest of tall, ancient conifers. Game was plentiful, yet he chose not to take the time to hunt. He contented himself with fish taken from a stream. The ground rose more steeply now.

He had just crossed another shallow steam of frigid glacial runoff when a crossbow bolt slammed into a tree on the shore next to him. He froze and turned.

Two men and one woman came pushing into the water from upstream. Two covered him while the third reloaded.

‘This is our claim!’ one fellow shouted.

The accent was unfamiliar to Kyle. He kept his arms wide. ‘It is none of my business,’ he said, ‘but I do not think this land belongs to you.’

‘You’re right,’ the woman answered as she drew near. ‘It is none of your business.’

The three were armoured alike in plain soft leathers sewn with bronze rings and lozenges. The swords and crossbows they carried appeared rather shabby and mass-produced.

‘What are you doing here?’ the first fellow asked.

Kyle motioned up to the distant ridgeline. ‘Just passing through.’

The three eyed one another, uneasy. The woman looked him up and down in obvious disapproval. ‘You don’t look like you’re too well equipped to take on the ice giants, stranger.’

‘Ice giants?’

The three laughed. ‘Just arrived, hey?’ the woman said. ‘Yeah. The locals call them the Icebloods.’

‘Ah. I see.’