Staerstone, page 29
The rich aroma of salty chicken meat and root vegetables made her mouth water. Hunger pangs gnawed in her belly, but how could she eat this while Andalu was starving and Catiallé might be—
“Princess?”
“Huh?” she looked up at Malaeki, who’s dark eyes were concerned.
“I thought you’d be happy to find friends, this high on the mountain.”
“I’m relieved.” Zericha forced her lips into the shape of a smile, beneath her frown. “But this talk of war…and Catiallé…” Wasn’t that enough to explain why she wasn’t full of joy?
“Devastating.” Malaeki reached out to squeeze her shoulder. “I understand. I can’t fathom the depth of your worry. I can barely comprehend what it means. But we will do everything to find her, I assure you. Eat, now, please. You’ll need your strength.”
Zericha nodded. She sipped the stew. The hot, salty goodness restored her with the first taste.
“So good,” she said, savoring the flavor. “Is that potato and…carrot?” She closed her eyes, relishing the wholesome smell and taste of home.
“Carried all the way from the dimarcheio,” said the klimber stirring the pot.
It took her back to nights of warmth, comfort and safety. Of peace, when life made sense. Hearty meals before a warm bed. But now—tonight, tomorrow—how would this new scenario play out?
“What’s your plan for tomorrow?” she asked.
Malaeki flicked her long braids over her shoulder and cleared her throat. “Tomorrow we cross the IceLine. We’ll move out, if the blizzard has cleared, at daybreak.”
Zericha nodded. “We’ll find Catiallé and the Scepter.”
“But first, we sleep.”
Sleep. She yawned, so tired. They’d prepared a bed for her, each of them donating a blanket or a pillow, creating a luxurious mountain of bedding, so comfortable in contrast to their single layer. She wanted to protest. Take these pillows back and these blankets. One of each will be more than enough with the blazing fire.
She found no words. They’d put her in the warmest, most protected position, far from the door, near the fire. So kind. Escaping while they slept would be hard. So far from the door, surrounded by so many people and dogs, it would test her skills to sneak away. She glanced at the walls and roof, but it was smooth stone. Climbing out wasn’t an option.
They were treating her like an honored guest, not a captive. With the blizzard blasting outside it must be inconceivable to them that she’d want to escape from this luxurious bed, fire and friends—if that was really what they were. Why were they suddenly friends, now?
Her mind kept sliding away from her most urgent problem: getting out of here tonight. She usually stayed focused and awake easily, no matter how tired she was. She had to escape into the snowy night as soon as they fell asleep. Finding Andalu should be simple. Turn left, keep near the tree line. There were fifteen trees between their huts, she’d counted. He’d better have stayed put, and not gotten lost, or killed.
Exhaustion, a full stomach and her bed’s comfort lulled her. The nest of blankets cradled every aching muscle, easing her pains, flooding her with relaxation. For the first time ever, her resolve to stay awake failed. She floated away on a cloud. Too late she realized, resisted, tried to yank herself awake, to no avail. She crashed into fitful nightmares. In a dark tunnel, alluring voices called her towards them, deeper and deeper, promising her everything—knowledge, glory, the ultimate connection with the mountain’s soul.
Behind her something crawled, on the end of a leash, something with no will anymore. It once was human, but no longer. Then she became the thing on the chain, her mind empty, her will erased.
“Fight it.” A vision of her mother rose in the darkness. “You have to get away. I won’t lose another child.” Mother turned her head fast and her bead-strung braids tinkled.
Zericha woke, grabbing at her throat and crying out, “No!”
Her wrists met resistance. What held them? She blinked against the bright light and the sleep crusting her eyes, sticking her eye-lashes together. Her wrists were bound in thick leather cuffs, and a chain connected the cuffs to a collar fastened around her throat.
Dry mouth, a bitter taste, a furry tongue.
The night passed in a blink. Sun shone outside.
“You drugged me,” she said, ready to kill.
“I’m sorry, Princess.” Malaeki was fastening her own harness. “I followed the dimarcheio’s orders. Two klimbers will transport you back home. Four of us will go on. I’ve already sent word you’re on your way home and told them Catiallé is missing but we will find her. Dead or alive.”
“No!” Zericha cried. “This is my mission. I belong on this mountain.”
“It’s a miracle you survived this far,” Malaeki said, “but these are the Vardrennes’ orders.” She fastened a buckle on her pack. “And Yornan believes the mountain knows you too well.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Your entanglement with Staerstone might be to the mission’s detriment. It could use you against us. The Chronos said it invades your dreams. It speaks to you. Do you feel safe, when it controls you that way?”
“I rarely feel safe,” Zericha said. She shook the cuffs, furious. “Especially not now.”
The klimbers had packed, preparing to move out. The drug they’d given her had been potent. She’d slept through all the noise. Her mind still felt sluggish.
“I’ll help you up.” Malaeki reached for her arm.
“Don’t touch me,” Zericha hissed. “Set me free, right now, or you’ll pay for this.”
Malaeki flinched. “I’m working on the monarch’s orders to ensure the princesses are returned home safely.”
“Not princesses,” Zericha said. “Catiallé is not here.”
“Which makes saving you twice as important.”
Zericha scoffed. Unbelievable! “You must know Catiallé’s the one they care about.” She raised her cuffed wrists. “How can I downclimb, like this?”
“Yornan ordered that you must be shackled. Slippery as an eel, he said. Otherwise, you’ll get away.”
Zericha scrambled to her feet, difficult with her hands tied and limbs still sluggish.
“Yornan’s a fool,” she said, but, no, that wasn’t true. More likely: “He wants me dead.”
Malaeki rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a child. It’s for your own protection.”
How dare she?
You’ll pay for that, Malaeki. Soon.
Battle
The chill night dragged on as Andalu shivered, half asleep, riled by nightmares of Zericha falling into chasms, reaching up to him, terror in her eyes. He wasn’t there to help her!
When the first orange rays illuminated his doorway, he shook off his limbs’ stiffness and emerged from the hut. Just a few steps out onto the snowy ground…a voice, not far off. Someone was here. Voices. It wasn’t Zericha—no—another woman and a man. It took him a moment to recognize what they were: Wyldren. Walking along the edge of the gorge, they pointed up at the black cliffs with fresh puffs of snow, on the other side, discussing potential climbing routes. He ducked behind a tree, heart racing.
If Zericha found these people, she might be alive and well! But…she could have joined them and left him to die. Would she abandon him that way? She could have at least come back to tell him he was on his own.
No. He mustn’t think the worst of her again. She’d proven him wrong before. She’d probably stayed away for his safety. Kept his presence a secret to protect him. Of course: she couldn’t have told them about him, because if she had told them, they would have come for him, killed him in his sleep.
They continued along the edge, talking and pointing. The snow was still deep. Couldn’t they just slip and fall into the crevasse? They were sure-footed and steady. When they were out of sight, he backtracked along their footprints to find their base. He had all his weapons on him but had left his pack behind in the hut. Their footprints should lead him directly to Zericha. When he saw her, how she was—content or troubled—he’d know what to do.
After a minute’s walk, the gorge widened, and their footprints disappeared around the corner of another stone hut. Someone walked out, to the edge of the gorge. Andalu backed behind the tree. The man pissed out into the canyon, then returned to the hut.
Next emerged a woman, tall and strong, with braided hair, and then followed… Zericha! What had they done to her? Something was wrong. Her head was down. She was shackled! A chain ran from her hands to a collar around her neck. Her hair was loose and brushed out, not braided in her usual style. She scowled, looked ready to kill her captors, her head hanging, and dark circles under her eyes.
She hadn’t abandoned him at all. This was why she hadn’t returned to him last night. She’d been captured by her own people, and she’d kept his presence secret. It was so good to see her. Now he had to save her.
He loosed two arrows in the space of a heartbeat. Each hit the necks of her captors.
Zericha, alert, ran towards him, but someone came out of the hut and grabbed hold of her hair. She screamed and kicked as they hauled her back inside. They cried out with an ululating call, raising the alarm, alerting whoever else was in earshot. Maybe he could use that to his advantage: lie in wait and attack as they passed. But footfalls came up behind him. It was too late.
“Put down your weapons and turn. Slowly.”
Andalu recognized the voice. It was the woman who’d passed earlier, inspecting the gorge. He dropped his weapons and turned around. There were two, and the pair were armed with a bow and a sword, ready to use them.
“Give me a reason to shoot you,” the man said. Andalu froze.
“It’s the Plains Prince. You don’t need a reason.”
A scuffle began behind him, but he didn’t dare turn to see what was happening. The Wyldren’s eyes widened in horror.
“Hurt him, and I’ll throw myself into the gorge,” Zericha warned.
They lowered their weapons.
“Princess, no. Why are you saying this?” the man cried.
“Let him come into the hut, or I’ll jump,” Zericha threatened. She must have gotten away from her guard, somehow, knocked them out, even though she was shackled. Now she was standing up to them, trying to save his life.
“Come away from the gorge, Princess,” the woman pleaded.
“Let. Him. Go.” Zericha scowled.
“Where?” the woman asked, incredulous.
“Over here, to me.”
“He might push you into—”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“Has the medicant affected her brain?” the woman asked.
The man shrugged. His blue eyes glared at Andalu. “Go.”
“I swear, if you hurt him, I’ll jump,” Zericha warned.
Heart racing, Andalu backed away from them and moved closer to Zericha. He rounded the corner, stepped into the hut and Zericha ran in after him. A woman lay on the ground, unconscious and bleeding from the temple.
“Guard the door. Don’t let them in. Shoot them if you have to,” Zericha said, struggling to get the key from the woman on the ground. “Your pack is back at our hut?”
He nodded.
“I don’t think we can get it.”
She brought him the key and he quickly unlocked her cuffs and collar.
“How many more are out there?” he asked.
“We’ve killed three. There’s three more. Plus Yornan and however many he has, but they’re not here.” She rubbed her wrists where the cuffs had chafed. “Keep guarding the door and I’ll pack our bags. Hungry?”
He nodded. She threw him a chicken leg, which he caught and bit into ravenously. She hurriedly emptied several bags and repacked two, then dressed in the dead woman’s warm clothes and threw him a jacket and long pants.
“If we get out of here alive, we’ll be better provisioned than I’ve ever been, because my parents actually helped them.”
“Which way do we go?” he asked.
“Further along. I have a good feeling about that direction.”
“Is a feeling enough to get us away from three desperate klimbers?”
“It’s all we’ve got.” She grimaced. “Stay ahead of me. They won’t shoot me.”
“Why did they shackle you?”
“To take me home.”
“How were you supposed to survive the descent like that?”
“I probably wasn’t. They can’t shoot me, but if I fell… Yornan would like that. All right.” She passed him a heavy pack, and stood up, dressing in a white fur coat and shouldering her own pack. “Ready to go? We’ll keep our eyes peeled. Keep me between yourself and danger,” she said. “Eat this, too.” She gave him a boiled potato and ate one herself.
“We’re looking for a bridge or something?” he asked.
“Or something,” she confirmed.
She peered outside, then went out for a better look.
“They could be up in the trees, so stay close. Use me for cover. Stay gorge-side of me.”
They walked out together, Andalu keeping close to Zericha, and both of them with arrows drawn, searching for targets to fire at.
They walked on for a while, watching all around. He could feel eyes on him but couldn’t see anyone. The ululating cry rang out again, from two voices this time. It was followed by barking dogs, and the Wyldren came into view, rushing towards them, dogs running ahead of them, growling and baring their fangs at Andalu.
“Defend!” Zericha ordered to the dogs, and they stopped and turned on the other Wyldren. She pointed to a black line across the gorge. “There it is!”
“What?” Andalu asked.
“The ice bridge.”
“That’s not a bridge!” It was a thin arc of ice. Impossibly delicate and dangerous. He balked, shaking his head. “You don’t expect me to walk over that, do you?”
“Only if you want to live.”
“I do want to live, that’s why I don’t want to step onto that thing.”
“We don’t have any choice.” Her eyes were wide and earnest as she took his hand. “Have faith in the mountain. In me.”
Faith in her? “I do,” he said, squeezing her hand. He’d follow her into the deepest canyon. Anywhere she went, he’d go, just to have her hand in his, to have her look into his eyes like he mattered. He had to hope they could survive this. Their lives and the welfare of their people depended on it.
“Come on then.”
She turned and ran towards the ice bridge. Andalu followed, just steps behind her. She didn’t hesitate but ran smoothly onto the bridge, changing her gait to lighten her steps, running on her toes. He followed her example; not as dainty, but not putting himself to shame, either. The sound of cracking came from the ice beneath his feet. He slowed, letting her get ahead, evening out their weight.
“Andalu, don’t stop!”
“I’m coming, but it’s cracking.”
He shuffled on, and the ice cracked louder; began to come apart beneath his feet.
“It will crack and when it does…” Zericha yelled. He approached halfway. In the center of the gorge the ice disintegrated under his feet.
“Grab on!” Zericha cried.
“Onto what?” As he fell, he flailed wildly. When the ice-dust cleared he found himself hanging on for his life. He’d somehow caught two dark cables and held them. There were three thick cables, and the ice had made a bridge between them, but now it had shattered.
Zericha was holding a cable too, a few yards ahead. She began to move, arm over arm, making her way towards the other end.
“Go,” she said.
Arrows flew towards him, but his wild swinging made it impossible for them to strike him. It shook him to move faster. He swung from hand to hand, placing one in front of the other and moving forward. His palms burned, but he mustn’t let go! He threw his feet up and hooked his ankles over the cables, breathing hard. Dig deep. You have to keep going. He forced one hand to move along the cable, then the next. Pain is nothing. Do not let go.
Finally he was over the far side. He released his fingers and fell onto his feet but collapsed to his knees. His hands were cramped closed and wouldn’t open.
“Come on, get up,” Zericha said, pulling at his shirt.
One of the klimbers had followed them, but halfway across the cable she fell into the gorge, screaming.
Andalu staggered to his feet and rounded the corner, panting. Cliffs rose high on either side.
“Can we saw through the cable?” he asked.
“No.”
“What’s to stop them following us?”
“They’ll find it impossible to make it across until the ice grows again. But if we cut the cable, I don’t know if there’s a way to get back. If we leave it, it will be an easy return because the bridge will be solid ice again, and then our packs will be lighter.”
“Listen to you,” he said. “Talking like we’ll survive this ascent and find our way back home.” He peered around the corner, back at the two remaining Wyldren, arguing on the other side.
“Andalu,” Zericha said.
A husky tone in her voice made him turn to meet her dark eyes, which were focused on him, as though seeing him for the first time. Her hand rose to cup his cheek, the gentle touch surprising him. She moved closer and the world slipped away. Her hair was free, falling around her face. “You didn’t give up on me.”
He could have laughed. What choice did he have?
“I couldn’t. You didn’t tell them about me, did you? They would have come for me. Killed me.”
“I didn’t want them to hurt you, though I should have…”
