Gamble King Chapter 37. Separation

Clasp.

The sound of it was solid. Final. The kind of grip that said more than words could—callused palm against callused palm, forearms locked, the weight of shared experience in every second it held.

Bubbles met Max's eyes. "Farewell, Vanheim."

"Farewell, Thorne."

They held it for another beat, then released. Bubbles stepped back, adjusting the pack on his shoulders. His usual grin was there, but subdued. Quieter.

The crossroads stretched out around them in six different directions, each path cutting through the forest like spokes on a broken wheel. This wasn't supposed to be where they split up. They'd had a plan, a good plan, with logical separation points spaced out over days. But the wendigo had changed that. Three days of hunting the bastard had put them behind schedule, and now it was either separate here or arrive late to their respective destinations.

Late meant delay. Delay meant more risk—less time to reach their destinations, deal with their hermits, and make it back to Frosthold before the year turned against them completely.

So. The crossroads.

Dan was checking his map for the third time, even though they'd all memorized their routes hours ago. Marcus had his pack off, reorganizing things that didn't need reorganizing. He seemed to keep himself busy to avoid acknowledging what was actually happening.

They were leaving each other.

"Well," Bubbles said, breaking the silence. "Next time we see each other, we'll all be much stronger. Probably unrecognizable. True warriors of legend and all that."

"Harek will definitely be leaner," Marcus said, completely deadpan. "All that fat burned away. Chiseled like a statue."

Dan snorted. Bubbles's mouth twitched.

Then Bro flared bright orange on Max's shoulder.

The little spider's abdomen started glowing hotter. Blue-white. The pre-flame warmth that meant he was about to torch something.

"I WAS JUST JOKING!" Marcus threw his hands up, actually backing away a step. "Harek! Call off your spider!"

"Bro," Max said calmly. "Stand down."

The glow dimmed slightly. Bro turned his tiny head toward Marcus and held the stare for another few seconds—just long enough to make his point—before the light faded completely back to orange.

Marcus let out an exaggerated breath of relief. "Bloody hell. Your spider has no sense of humor."

"He has an excellent sense of humor," Max said. "He just thinks you're not funny."

Dan actually laughed at that.

Bubbles grinned wider. "I'm going to miss this. The constant threat of death. Really keeps things lively."

"You won't miss it once you're freezing your arse off in your mountains," Dan said. He folded his map and tucked it away. "While I'm enjoying the mild weather of the eastern forests."

"Mild until the spiders find you," Marcus pointed out.

"I'll manage."

"Sure you will. Just don't let them bite anywhere important."

They fell quiet again. The forest around them was still, the kind of deep silence that only came after snowfall. The trees stood like witnesses. Patient. Unbothered by human concerns.

"Right," Dan said finally. He picked up his pack and settled it on his shoulders with practiced ease. "I suppose this is it."

"Don't die," Bubbles told him.

"Wasn't planning on it."

"Plans change. Try harder."

Dan's mouth quirked. "You too, Thorne."

He turned toward the eastern path—the one that would take him through dense forest toward the territories he'd been assigned. He walked ten paces, then stopped and looked back.

"If any of you become famous before I do, I'll be deeply offended."

"Noted," Marcus said.

Dan nodded once, then kept walking. They watched him until the trees swallowed him up and all that remained was the sound of his boots on frozen ground, fading gradually into nothing.

Marcus went next. He chose the southeastern path, the one that would take him toward the coast eventually. Before he left, he clapped Max on the shoulder—a brief, firm pressure that said everything that needed saying.

"Keep that spider fed," he said.

"Keep your spear in one piece," Max replied.

Marcus grinned. "I'll try."

Then he was gone too, disappearing into the forest with the same quiet competence he brought to everything.

That left Max and Bubbles.

They stood there for a moment, not quite looking at each other.

"North for you," Bubbles said eventually. "Deeper north. Where the real monsters live."

"South for you. Where the mountains get tall enough to scrape the sky."

Bubbles laughed, but it was a soft sound. Almost sad. "Yeah."

Max adjusted Bro on his shoulder. The little spider had been unusually quiet through all of this, just a dim orange glow that felt almost contemplative.

"Don't get yourself killed doing something stupid," Max said.

"That's my line."

"I'm faster."

"Debatable." Bubbles shifted his weight, glanced down the path he'd be taking. Then back at Max. "You know... I'm glad we ended up in the same group. For training, I mean. Could have been assigned anywhere, but we got put together. That was good."

"Yeah," Max agreed. "It was."

Another beat of silence.

Then Bubbles stuck out his hand again.

Max took it. Same firm grip. Same weight to it.

"Do be careful on the way."

"Hah, I was about to say the same thing.."

They released. Bubbles picked up his pack, settled it on his shoulders, and started down the southern path. He made it maybe twenty feet before he stopped and turned around one last time.

"When we meet again," he called back, "I expect you to have at least three named weapons and a collection of scars impressive enough to make women faint."

"Only three?" Max called back.

Bubbles grinned. "Don't overachieve. It's unseemly."

Then he turned and kept walking, and this time he didn't look back.

Max watched until he couldn't see him anymore. Until the forest had claimed the last of them and he was truly alone at the crossroads.

He stood there for another minute. Maybe two. The wind picked up slightly, making the branches creak overhead. Snow fell from somewhere high up, dusting his shoulders.

Bro shifted on his perch, his glow brightening slightly. A gentle warmth against Max's neck.

"Yeah," Max said quietly. "Just us now, buddy."

The northern path stretched out ahead of him, winding between ancient trees that grew thicker and closer together the farther north you went. Darker. Colder. More dangerous.

Max took a breath, let it out slowly, and started walking.

The forest swallowed him too, the same way it had swallowed the others. And behind him, the crossroads stood empty and silent, six paths leading in six different directions, waiting for the next group of travelers to arrive and make their choices.

The sun was still up when his walk started.

He carried the wendigo's antlers in one hand—massive, branching things that weighed more than they looked like they should. The tines were sharp enough to punch through armor, as he'd learned firsthand. Twice. The skull-fragment still attached to the base had human-like teeth embedded in it, which was exactly as disturbing as it sounded.

Proof of the kill. Something the tribes would recognize and respect. Assuming he lived long enough to show it to anyone.

The closest confirmed safe zone was miles away. According to his map, he'd arrive right around sunset if he maintained a steady pace. Which wasn't ideal. The rules Borgen had laid out were pretty clear about not being caught outside after dark, and "right around sunset" was cutting it way too close.

So the plan was simple: head toward the guaranteed safe spot, but keep an eye out for closer alternatives. Uninhabited caves would be perfect.

He adjusted his pack and started north.

The forest here was different from what he'd grown used to over the past days. The trees were older, their trunks thick enough that three men couldn't wrap their arms around them. Moss hung from branches in curtains of gray-green, and the snow lay deeper in the hollows between roots.

Beautiful, in a way that made you acutely aware of how small you were.

"Well," Max said to Bro, who was perched on his shoulder in his usual spot. "I guess we're all small to something, huh?"

Bro's glow brightened slightly. Agreement, maybe. Or just acknowledgment that yes, the trees were huge.

Max picked his way over a fallen log, boots crunching through the frozen crust. "Think they'll be okay? Dan seemed nervous. Marcus was trying not to show it, but he was nervous too."

Bro didn't respond, which was fair. He was a spider. Emotional support wasn't really in his job description.

"Bubbles will be fine," Max continued, more to himself than anything. "He's smart. Careful. Probably too careful, honestly. He'll spend three hours checking a cave before he even thinks about sleeping in it."

The path—if you could call it that—wound between ancient stones that jutted from the earth like broken teeth. Someone had carved runes into a few of them, weather-worn and old enough that Max couldn't make out the details.

He stopped at a small stream to refill his waterskin. The water was so cold it made his teeth ache, but it tasted clean. Pure. Nothing like the slightly metallic tang of some well water back at Frosthold.

Bro hopped down to the stream's edge and stood there, observing the flowing water with what looked like intense focus.

"You thirsty?"

The spider turned to look at him. Just a look. No movement toward the water.

"Right. Stupid question. You're a spider."

Max splashed some water on his face, the cold shocking him fully alert. His breath steamed in the air. The temperature was dropping as the sun moved lower.

He needed to find shelter. Soon.

The forest opened up slightly as he continued north, the trees spacing out enough that he could see farther ahead. The landscape was stunning in that particular way the wilderness had of being both beautiful and completely indifferent to whether you lived or died in it.

Snow-covered hills rolled away to the east. To the west, he could see what looked like a frozen lake, its surface so smooth it reflected the sky like polished glass. And ahead, the mountains rose in jagged peaks that seemed to scrape the clouds.

"You know what's weird?" Max said, ducking under a low branch. "This whole world. Bjorn's world. I used to read about places like this. Made up stories, created maps, spent hours worldbuilding." He laughed, the sound small in the vast quiet. "Never thought I'd actually be walking through one."

Bro's warmth increased slightly against his shoulder.

"And the craziest part? It's real. Like, completely real. The cold hurts. My feet actually ache from walking. That stream water tasted like something, not just generic fantasy-world refreshment." Max shook his head. "It's bizarre. In a good way, mostly. Except for the part where things actively want to kill me."

A bird called somewhere overhead. Not a species Max recognized. The sound was haunting, almost musical.

He spotted the first cave about an hour later.

It was set into a hillside, the entrance partially hidden by hanging moss and the exposed roots of a massive tree. No rune marking it as safe. No obvious signs of habitation. But also no obvious signs that it was empty.

Max approached carefully, the wendigo antlers held ready. Not that he could do much with them except look threatening, but it was better than nothing.

He stopped about ten feet from the entrance.

"Uh," he called out. "Is there anyone in there?"

Silence.

He waited, counting to ten in his head. Still nothing.

"Hello? I'm just looking for—"

"AAAAAAAAARGH!"

The scream exploded from the cave with enough force that Max actually felt it in his chest. It wasn't a roar or a growl. It was the sound of someone—something—who had completely lost their mind and decided to share that fact with the world at maximum volume.

"Jesus!"

Max stumbled backward, nearly tripped over his own feet, caught himself on a tree. His heart hammered against his ribs.

"Okay!" he shouted at the cave. "Okay! I'm leaving! Sorry to bother you!"

He backed away quickly, keeping the cave entrance in sight until he'd put a good fifty yards between himself and whatever the hell lived in there.

Bro was glowing bright orange, tiny body tense.

"Yeah," Max said, breathing hard. "I agree. That was terrifying."

The second cave appeared maybe half an hour later.

This one was larger, set into the base of a cliff face with a more obvious entrance. Max could see inside a few feet, where the daylight penetrated. It looked... empty. Quiet.

He'd learned his lesson.

He stopped at a very reasonable distance—like, forty feet—and cupped his hands around his mouth.

"Hello! Anyone in there?"

A pause.

Then, clear as day, in perfectly understandable human language: "GO AWAY!"

Max blinked.

Now, in a horror movie, the protagonist would recognize this as an intelligent voice. Something capable of communication. Something that could potentially be reasoned with. He might try to negotiate. Explain his situation. Offer payment for shelter. Ask politely if he could just stay one night and would be gone by morning.

This was not a horror movie.

This was Max's life, and Max liked to think that he was smart.

"Oookay," he called back. "Have a good day. Spirit, person, whatever you are. Didn't mean to bother you."

He turned and kept walking.

"That was the right choice, right?" he asked Bro. "Because trying to negotiate with the voice in the scary cave feels like exactly the kind of thing that gets you killed."

Bro's glow dimmed back to his normal orange. Approval, maybe.

The sun was getting lower.

Max picked up his pace, the urgency building in his chest. According to his map, he should be close. But "close" could mean a lot of things, and if he'd misread the terrain or misjudged the distance...

He didn't let himself finish that thought.

The forest thickened again, the trees pressing in close enough that he had to navigate carefully to avoid branches. The snow was deeper here, coming up almost to his knees in places. It slowed him down more than he'd like.

The light was taking on that golden quality that meant sunset wasn't far off.

Max forced himself to breathe steadily. Panic wouldn't help. He just needed to keep moving, keep navigating, trust the map.

A sound drifted through the trees. Distant. Almost like... voices?

Max stopped, listening.

There. Definitely voices. Multiple ones, speaking in a language he didn't understand. The words had a rhythm to them, almost sing-song, but there was something off about the melody.

His skin prickled.

He started moving faster.

The cliff face appeared through the trees like a blessing. Sheer rock rising maybe forty feet, with what looked like a cave entrance near the top. And carved into the stone beside the entrance, clear and unmistakable even from this distance, was the rune of Hedrig the Hunter.

Safe zone.

Max wanted to cry with relief.

The voices were louder now. Closer. Still behind him, but definitely closer than before.

He reached the base of the cliff and looked up. There was a path of sorts—handholds in the rock, places where the stone had been deliberately shaped to allow climbing. Not easy, but doable.

The sun was touching the horizon. The sky had gone from blue to orange to that particular shade of purple that meant nightfall was minutes away.

"Shit."

Max attached the antlers to his side and grabbed the first handhold to start climbing.

His pack threw off his balance. The wendigo antlers, still strapped to his side, kept catching on the rock. His arms were already tired from the day's travel, and now they were screaming as he hauled himself up foot by foot.

The voices below had stopped their singing. Now they were just sounds. Rustling. Movement through underbrush.

Max didn't look down.

His fingers found the next hold. Then the next. The cave entrance was twenty feet above him. Then fifteen. Then ten.

His boot slipped.

For one heart-stopping second, he was falling, his weight pulling away from the cliff face. Then his other hand caught, his fingers screaming with the sudden strain, and he slammed back against the rock hard enough to knock the air from his lungs.

He hung there, gasping, then forced himself to keep climbing.

Five feet.

Three feet.

One.

Max's hand found the lip of the cave entrance. He hauled himself over, rolling onto solid stone and lying there for a moment, chest heaving.

The sun was a sliver on the horizon. Maybe ten minutes of daylight left.

He pulled his pack off, shoved it deeper into the cave. The antlers followed. His weapons he kept close.

And that's when he heard the scream.

At first, he thought it might be one of those spirits that came out after sunset. The kind Borgen had warned them about. The ones you didn't respond to, didn't acknowledge, didn't even look at.

But the screaming continued. Raw. Desperate. Human.

Max turned around despite himself.

Below, bursting from the tree line, was a young man.

He was maybe sixteen, seventeen at most. Dressed in rough furs and leather, his dark hair wild around his face. Blood ran from a cut above his eye, and his breathing came in ragged gasps that Max could hear even from forty feet up.

A barbarian. Just like Bjorn had been. One of the northern tribes.

The young man was running straight for the cliff.

And behind him, emerging from the forest like a pack of wolves, came the others.

Six of them. Adults, all dressed in similar furs, but there was something wrong about them. Their movements were too fluid, too synchronized. And they were covered in markings—painted or tattooed, Max couldn't tell from this distance—that formed patterns across their skin.

He squinted, trying to make out the details in the fading light.

The patterns resolved into symbols he recognized from his research. Circular designs that spiraled inward, broken by jagged lines. The mark of the White Hand tribes.

The cannibal tribes.

The ones Tredor had specifically warned him about. The ones who rejected the Aspects and worshiped something darker. And, as it happened, the ones who particularly enjoyed hunting squires during their Proving Year.

"Oh, fuck."

The young barbarian was coming straight for the cliff. Straight for the only safe zone in miles. Which meant he was about to lead six cannibals directly to Max's shelter.

The sun slipped below the horizon.

Darkness fell like a curtain.