CHAPTER 912: A LIGHT DUSTING (PART TWO)

In Hauke’s mind’s eye, seven of the eight streams of iridescent energy radiating outward from the Runic Blade of Eternal Ice transformed into wide nets, dragging across the sky in an area that covered several leagues as he gathered up all of the moisture in the air and funneled it toward the the final, eighth stream that connected to the clouds over Hanrahan Town.

Throughout the forest, the tallest trees bent and swayed as frigid winds blew, carrying what little moisture remained in the bitter, frigid air and offering it up like wisps of frozen clouds to the snow storm that slowly gained strength over Hanrahan town.

Hauke had called it a ’light dusting’ and he meant that in more ways than one. The fresh snow that began to fall was fine and powdery, drifting on the wind and hanging in the air as if it was in no hurry to reach the ground. Far from the thick, heavy flakes that had heralded the beginning of the blizzard, this snow felt almost playful as it descended on the snow covered town.

The people of Hanrahan, however, had no way of knowing that the light, tiny snowflakes would only fall for half an hour before stopping entirely. As soon as the first flakes began to fall, townsfolk began hurrying to finish their business, rushing to return home before the storm could grow worse.

"I told ye we should’a gone ta’ market sooner," a young woman said as she drew a shawl over her reddish-blond hair with one hand while the other hand balled up into a tiny fist that hammered at her husband’s back. "Look, now tha’ shops are closin’ up an’ turnin’ folks away!"

"How was I s’posed ta know it would snow again?" the poor berated husband said as he shrank back from his furious wife. "Tha’ crowds this mornin’ were nottin’ short of a flood ’o people. Ya’ think it would’a done any good ta’ be out in that rush? I heard tha’ butcher started havin’ people bid on tha’ good cuts ’cause there were so many people clammerin’ fer’ ’em that a pound ’o good beef went fer a whole penny!"

"Cheapskate," his wife snorted as she pointed at the half filled basket of food her husband carried as they rushed back toward their home. "We’re still havin’ tongue stew an’ millet fer dinner, an’ we still paid five snips fer it! An’ ye drank the last o’ tha’ stiff ale, so I’m makin’ stew wit water fer tha’ broth tonight..."

The couple weren’t the only ones complaining about not finishing their errands before the snow began to fall again, nor were they the only ones cursing the greedy merchants of the city for setting sky high prices just because there were people with coin enough to pay them.

Whether they were grateful for what they were able to buy in the markets or angry about how little they came away with, the other thing that many of them had in common was a deep desire to shut themselves away in their homes, curling up beneath their blankets by the hearth and filling their bellies with something warm and comforting while they waited out the next wave of the cruel winter storm.

Other townsfolk, however, people in the poorest quarters of the city whose homes had suffered the greatest damage in the blizzard, chose to abandon their homes entirely, packing into pubs and alehouses by the dozens or rushing to the great Temple of the Holy Lord of Light in search of a place to take shelter from the approaching storm.

"Please, no pushing or shoving," a harried looking acolyte dressed in white robes with a bright golden collar told the crowd as he stood at the gates of the temple. Just an hour ago he’d been cursing the meddling of the Temple Guard from Lothian City but now that people had started rushing to take shelter in within the sturdy stone walls of the temple, he was grateful for the support of the impressive soldiers as they formed ranks to control the crowd.

"There’s room enough for everyone to take shelter in the Light," the acolyte said. "But the courtyard is filled with pyres for the fallen who died in last night’s storm," he added as he pleaded with the crowd to calm themselves. "Please, still your tongues and walk calmly to the chapel while the people in the courtyard wish their loved ones a swift journey to the Heavenly Shores."

"See Brother Morcan as you pass if you have anything to offer for the collection," another acolyte called, pointing to a third acolyte accompanied by two strong men from the Temple Guard who held a strong-box with a small hole in the top for receiving donations. "We’re collecting for the families in need and for the temple to keep the hearth’s burning through the night...."

Of course, there were many in the crowd who questioned how many of the coins collected in the strong-box would actually reach the families in need after losing loved ones to the blizzard, but no one dared to give voice to those doubts in the presence of so many armored soldiers of the Temple Guard.

Instead, many of them fished in their coin purses, pulling out at least a snip or two and dropping them in the box so they didn’t look like heartless monsters in front of their friends and neighbors. Even if they didn’t want to part with what little money they had to spare, they were far more afraid of another night facing the ravages of the storm and many of them feared that if they didn’t make a ’donation’ they might be driven out of the temple during the night if it became too crowded.

Better to tithe and survive the storm than to die in the cold over a few snips of tin...

Meanwhile, in the wilderness outside of town, Heila stood behind Hauke on the outcropping of rock, focusing on her witchcraft and drawing strength from the surrounding forest to supply a steady, nourishing flow of energy to Hauke as he worked his sorcery.

Even with the Runic Blade of Eternal Ice, it should have been impossible for a single sorcerer, even one as talented as Hauke, to create a storm that affected such a wide area. Even Ines, the Unending Blizzard, would have needed to gather up a circle of at least a dozen sorcerers to provide energy to do what Hauke had done, and even then, it would have cost those sorcerers dearly to do it multiple days in a row the way Hauke had.

Working with Heila, however, the diminutive witch was able to supply the Frost Walker sorcerer with energy drawn directly from the forest around them, tapping into the powerful reserves of cedar trees that had lived for more than a century and even more powerful western hemlock that had been growing in the forest since before the first human set foot on the eastern shores of the continent.

In time, when Amahle’s coven was able to bring Lady Ashlynn the seed she needed to shape Hauke’s seed of witchcraft, he wouldn’t need Heila’s help to do what he was doing, but for now, the diminutive witch did as a big sister should, helping her little brother to approach the power of a witch before he officially joined the coven.

The snow would only fall for half an hour and it would never grow heavy enough to do any damage on its own. The most it could accomplish was to drive people back into their homes at the end of the day, but Heila hoped that it would be enough and that people wouldn’t decide to venture out into the night again as soon as they realized the snow had stopped.

Because if they did... if they were were wrong about how the people of Hanrahan Town would respond to the last bit of snow that Hauke could wring from the sky and the streets became clogged with people returning home rather than staying wherever they’d gone to seek shelter, then the soft, delicate snow that was meant to keep them safe in the coming battle would turn red with the blood of innocents, and Hauke and Heila would have only themselves to blame for a tragedy that even the most bloodthirsty soldiers among the Eldritch wanted to prevent.