The cubs were determined, and over the next few days they improved in their use of a number of different weapons. Svern set up a diagram for them of a hagsfiend, as well as one of a dragon walrus.

“As one might guess, a hagsfiend has a very small heart, and it is located in an almost inaccessible place for attacking with a sword, or a dagger for that matter. There are, however, two points of great vulnerability for a hagsfiend. First there are the eyes. It’s from their eyes, as I explained earlier, that they can spin the deadly webs, the fyngrots, that paralyze their victims. If you shoot an ice splinter through their eyes, it can penetrate straight to their peculiar brains, by which they come to their powers of spinning the fyngrots.”

Svern drew out a thin rod. “This was crafted to my specifications by a blacksmith who had trained at Bubo’s forge. It fits comfortably in a paw. Easy to handle. The other end, as you can see, has a very hollow reed attached, the perfect size for holding an ice splinter. Come outside the den with me, and I’ll give a demonstration. You’ll see that it is accuracy that counts more than power.”

The cubs made their way out of the den. Froya sidled up to her brother.

“Ah, how convenient,” Svern whispered in a low voice.

A vole had just stepped out from the roots of a small tree. Svern raised the rod, then flung it forward but did not let go. The splinter, however, whizzed through the air. The vole dropped dead immediately, with the ice splinter planted between his eyes.

The cubs were dumbfounded for several seconds.

“That’s accuracy!” whispered Third.

“Incredible!” Froya finally exclaimed.

“Not so incredible,” Svern replied. “We’ll practice. You just have to keep your eyes on the target and use a nice smooth motion when you launch the ice splinter.”

Svern demonstrated. “There is a rhythm to this. Raise your forearm, tilting it slightly back, step forward, snap your wrist, and the ice splinter is released. It’s a one-two-three count.”

The cubs began, each muttering the count. Nothing launched. The ice splinters just dropped to the ground where the cubs were standing. Finally, on the perhaps tenth try, Froya succeeded. The ice splinter sailed out but only made it halfway to the target Svern had set up. She missed four more times after that. But then Jytte, narrowing her eyes and gritting her teeth, launched her splinter. It sailed straight and true to the target.

“Excellent! Excellent, my daughter!”

Jytte’s mouth dropped open. The words rang in her ears—my daughter! Stellan turned toward her and smiled. For Jytte, the world had just been set to rights.

For the next few days, the cubs practiced with ice splinters. They all eventually hit the mark, but it was Froya who became the most skillful. They all, however, had their specialties. Jytte showed prowess with the ice dagger, Stellan with the sword, and Third with the bow and ice arrows. In addition to their weapons, Svern had provided them goggles with specially ground ice. He cautioned that they must wear them at all times, for the radiance of the maze could scorch their eyes.

“When we are through the maze and in the Den of Forever Frost, we can put them aside. In the old days it was common to encounter old bears who had somehow lost their goggles and gone blind. So we always wear them even when we sleep.”

But it was not all training with swords and ice splinters. In addition, Svern had prepared a map that showed the surest pathways through the maze, which he insisted they memorize. The map also showed a beach beneath a cliff. Somwhere in the cliff was a slot that led to the Den of Forever Frost.

“There is only one entrance into the maze and one exit out of it. However, there are eighteen true paths through it and five hundred false paths. So you must find the true paths that lead out of the maze to the Den of Forever Frost.”

“Why eighteen?” Froya asked.

“There are eighteen brightest stars in the Great Bear constellation. A clan was named for each of these stars, and so there were eighteen clans with one representative from each to the Bear Council in the days of yore. We can carry a map with us. But it is important that you memorize the map in case you lose it or we get lost and lose one another.”

“These maps,” Stellan said slowly, studying the large one that Svern had spread on the floor of his den. “Do they show the hyrakiums?”

“Unfortunately, not precisely. The shaded areas show the known ones. But things have shifted over the centuries in the maze. Not the true paths but the bone pits. Some of these regions have broken off and slid elsewhere. It’s similar to when old ice bergs with rotten ice will split and set new floes adrift. Only it’s not simply cubs of rotten ice. It’s monsters from the yore. Relic creatures who are thought to be extinct. They are no longer on earth, but beneath the earth they lie in wait to devour whatever comes their way.”

It did not take the cubs long to master every weapon. They felt at home in the winter den. The evenings were cozy. They began using their weapons for gathering food, although Svern felt that weaponless kills made the prey tastier.

“I can’t explain it,” he said one night as they consumed a marmot that Third had brought down with his bow and arrow. “I just prefer paw-killed prey. The other materials get in the way. Interfere with the flavor.”

On the seventh evening, Svern stepped outside the den and looked up at the sky. The old moon, the one the bears called the Moon of the Ice on Ponds, was just a sliver. The owls called this the Moon of the Copper Rose, and the wolves called it the Moon of the Caribou. He turned to the cubs.

“The moon is slivering; by tomorrow night it will be gone. A perfect night for our mission to begin. We must leave tomorrow night. Even with your goggles, one can only travel through the ice maze on the darkest night before the second sliver of the new moon rises or you risk blindness. So now we must rest up through this night and into the day. You’ll need your strength.”

That last night, there was little chatter in the den. They were all unusually subdued, each with their own thoughts. Stellan tried to imagine their mission and what exactly lay ahead. Could they thread their way through the ice maze safely without awakening these monsters? Would Jytte and Froya be as deadly with the ice splinters as they had been in practice? Froya had brought down a vole, but a monster? Could an ice splinter mortally wound a hagsfiend?

Jytte had reveled in the music of the word daughter, and soon Svern called Stellan son. She wished that her mum were here to hear him say it. Jytte yawned sleepily and tried to remember the softness of her mother’s belly fur. Was there anything so welcoming? “Mum,” she whispered into the darkness.

Svern looked at them as they drifted off to sleep. He could not help but wonder how it had happened that he, who never had any interest in cubs, had grown attached to not only his own by blood but the other two as well.

Svern was restless and decided to go out and walk around a bit under this last sliver of moonlight. He had not gone far when he came across a distinctive track. He put his muzzle close to the ground—a familiar scent. An evil scent. It could not be. Dark Fang!