12 hours of harshest tundra he's seen

A huffing Larten Crepsley mounted a treacherous, icy ridge and stared
across a frozen sea of jagged peaks. He had visited most parts of the world
in his decades as a vampire, but this was the harshest wilderness he’d ever
experienced. A plateau of ice peppered with rocky outcrops. Whipping
snow that could blind a man in minutes. Temperatures so low that each
breath stung his throat and lungs. It was a hostile, alien, unforgiving
landscape.

Larten threw back his head and howled with mad delight. He was
loving this! There was no better place for a vampire to perish than in an
area where no human would dare tread. This would make for a brutal,
lonely death and he deserved nothing better. A fitting end for a savage killer.

The baby he was carrying moaned softly and shivered beneath the
covering of the vampire’s shirt. Larten was holding him clasped in one arm,
sheltered from the wind and snow as much as possible. He felt a stab of
guilt at the baby’s cry and paused to puff a breath of warm air down the
neck of his shirt. The boy gurgled happily, then shivered again.

***

A cruel wind cut through Larten and he staggered down the other side
of the ridge. He had lost track of time in this barren land of ice. It felt like
he had been wandering for days, but he suspected it was more like twelve
hours. A vampire could survive a long time in conditions like these, but a
human baby? Larten guessed the boy was close to the limits of his fragile
form.

***

The Saga of Larten Crepsley: Palace of the Damned, Chapter 1