“At least our burdens become lighter with each passing day,” said Klinge, hefting his own pack onto his back. “I hope finding Solomon is worth all this trouble.”
They made good progress in the clear weather, crossing over a rising pass. Klinge called them to a halt as he reached the crest. The mountain face was steep ahead, passable only by a narrow ledge. He breathed out slowly, his breath misty. “It’s too dangerous!” he said. “We have to go back, down and around from another direction.”
“That’ll cost us a day,” said Raven.
Klinge nodded. “At the least!”
Raven turned to Tak. “Can you sense Solomon yet?”
Tak shook his head. Raven hung his head. “Then we’d better turn back, try to make up for lost ground.”
By mid-afternoon, they had returned to the point where they had started in the morning. Klinge led them towards a steeper slope, heading away from the pass. Progress was slow, every step an effort. Raven wished, as Klinge had suggested, that he could sprout a pair of wings. Ahead, Klinge thrust his walking stick into the snow. Without warning, it caved in under his feet. He cried out as he fell. The mountain swallowed him whole. They dropped their packs and approached the fissure on hands and knees. Klinge was wedged in a crevasse. Xi fetched his rope and lowered one end to Klinge. Klinge nodded and secured the line around his waist. Xi waited for the other Khryseoi to take a firm hold on the rope. “Pull!” he said.
Raven could usually lift Klinge by himself, but the thin air, cold and lack of sleep made the task a labour for all four. When Klinge emerged over the edge, Raven was light-headed and puffing as hard as the others. Klinge’s face was as white as the snow where he lay. “My leg is broken,” he whispered.
Drawing deep breaths, Raven pulled off his gloves and knelt beside Klinge. The cold stung his bare hands. He ran his fingertips over Klinge’s leg. Klinge winced. “Find two straight sticks! We’ll make a splint.”
Working fast, they straightened Klinge’s leg. He howled and clenched his teeth while Raven bound the splint with rope. “Can you walk?” said Raven.
“Not without aid.”
“You’ll heal,” said Raven. “I’m sure this isn’t the first time you’ve broken a bone.”
“Raven, leave me! I’ll be a burden. Two days to get back down. I’ll try to make it, crawl if I must!”
Tak caught Raven’s eye. He flicked his fingers and shook his head.
“It’s too far without help,” said Raven. “You’ll die.”
Klinge shrugged. “Then I’ll see you when I next wake.”
“Just because I can leave you to die, doesn’t mean I will.” Raven pulled on his gloves and extended his hand.
“Wait,” said Xi. “This isn’t your decision to make. Taking Klinge puts us in greater danger. We’ve already lost a day. Look around you. The mountain is against us!”
Raven clenched his teeth. “This isn’t the time!”
Xi closed the ground between them, his breath steaming from his hood in short bursts. “No, this is the time! We have this gift for a reason. Yes, Klinge may die. It’s preferable to being a burden. We must reach Solomon!”
“Regrettably, I agree,” said Klinge, wincing as he spoke.
Raven stepped forward to face Xi. “I won’t leave any of you behind!”
Xi met Raven’s gaze and balled his fists. “I think you have little experience of death and are afraid to face it.”
Windsong stepped between them. Raven felt a sharp pang seize his body. They could have been arguing over her fate instead of Klinge’s.
“I think you’re both headstrong fools,” she said. “He has a broken leg. We’re Khryseoi. We’ve suffered worse.”
Tak removed his gloves. I agree. Let’s make camp and see how he is in the morning.
Klinge fell asleep as soon as he was settled in the tent. Raven tried to make a fire but it was impossible in the snow. Every time he drew a spark, the cold snuffed it out. The others also tried without luck.
“We might as well abandon the wood,” said Raven. “It’ll lighten the load. We can distribute Klinge’s supplies so he can walk without his pack.”
Xi rolled over, presenting his back.
Windsong reached out and touched Raven’s arm. “Sleep! We’ll need all our strength tomorrow.”
Morning came and they redistributed their supplies. Klinge was in good spirits but his face was grey and drawn. Raven lifted him by the arm and took his weight. “Let’s be cautious. Guide me.”
Progress was slow. They took turns to help Klinge limp across the snow and spoke only when necessary. The day passed into a haze of endless white. Raven put one foot in front of the next. All he could think about was his dry mouth. The sun circled across the sky and was lost behind the mountain. During the night, his teeth chattered and kept him awake.
The wind stirred the next day, hurling eddies of snow that stung their faces and obscured their vision. Klinge could walk somewhat better and leaned less heavily on Raven’s shoulder. It was a small mercy. The snow thickened and they were forced to stop. Raven couldn’t see beyond the person ahead. They tried to pitch the tent but it collapsed under the weight of the snow and the wind. They sat huddled under the canvas sheet, determined to wait out the storm.
* * *
Tak couldn’t stop himself from shivering. The mountain was as far removed from the warm rainforest as he could imagine. As the night wore on, he lost all feeling in his hands and feet. His fingers were so stiff he could barely move them but the night was too dark for anyone to see him sign. White days and black nights. A world without colour. Just like the tower in his vision. His mouth was dry, his lips were cracked and he had no tongue to wet them. No tongue. Raven. It was all his doing. Tak felt a powerful urge to sleep. He both craved and feared the consequences of closing his eyes. Eventually, his lids became too heavy to keep open.
* * *
Tak walked through light woodland. It was cooler than the rainforest. He remembered he was far from his home, having travelled to the cool northern lands. He felt a tremor as his foot touched the earth. It was an echo of the tragedy that had been plaguing his dreams. He looked about. The earth was still and the wind was too gentle to rustle the low-hanging arms of surrounding pine trees. The vibrations he felt came from the spirit world.
He saw a tall spindly tree ahead. Its needles were the deep orange-yellow of the setting sun. Tak extended his arm and felt the coarse dry bark against his palm. “Hello, tree,” he said. He looked back over his shoulder. The other trees in the forest of Scythia were lush and green. The forest was alive with birds and beetles on the wing. “Why are you alone?” he asked the tree, although he didn’t expect a response. He gathered the folds of his chiton, sat cross-legged on the ground and closed his eyes. The vision came to him again. He’d seen the events many times as if through a gauze curtain swaying in a breeze. This time, the vision was sharp and colourless. He looked up and saw a tower, a single turret of curious design. It was much taller than any building he had ever seen, perfectly round with a façade, alternating black and white from one level to the next. Each level was delineated by a platform encircling the outer wall, a latticework of beams arranged in geometric patterns. He opened his eyes and focused on the tree but the tower also remained in his sight. There was a low rumble and flames burst from the earth next to the tower. The flames lanced the sky, a column of white light which billowed into a cloud. Tak’s pores opened as if they felt its dreadful heat. It was unnatural: daemon fire. A thousand voices cried out in pain and terror and were silenced. He heard the gentle patter of tears falling onto his lap. Even though he didn’t know who the voices belonged to, he felt their anguish was born from a terrible betrayal, not fear of the flame.
“Speak to me,” he said to the tree. “Tell me your story.” The wind shifted direction and the tree creaked and groaned like an old wooden plank under pressure. “Who are these people? What causes the fire?” The wind settled and the tree was silent once m
ore. “I don’t understand,” he said.
The birds also fell silent. Tak suddenly felt hot, as if the summer sun had broken through the clouds. The small of his back prickled with sweat. It was the epiphaneia but subtly different from the comforting warmth that usually announced a meeting of Khryseoi.
“It’s better you don’t,” a man answered.
Tak stood quickly and turned around. The man emerged, brushing ferns aside, walking with little sound as he passed. He was dressed in a ragged black cloak, had short dark hair, and a smooth face. “Raven?”
“Hello, Kaha’i.”
Tak heard his own voice in his mind. Kaha’i? Yes. This happened over a hundred years ago. I haven’t taken the name Tak yet.
Raven met Tak’s gaze and nodded as if he’d expected their meeting. Tak wiped his eyes and stretched his lips into a broad grin, even though the pain and sorrow of the voices lingered in his heart and mind. “Are you following the Roman fashion these days?” he said, running a finger along his jawline.
“Enjoy the moment,” Raven replied. “This may be the only time you’ll wear such a good beard.”
Tak tugged his wispy whiskers, confused by Raven’s comment. “What are you talking about? Why are you here?”
“I don’t have time for questions,” said Raven. “You’ve had the vision, yes? Seen the fire?”
Tak nodded. “How did you know?”
Raven drew a sharp breath but said nothing.
Tak straightened his back. “The tower and the flame... why are they important?”
Raven looked away.
“Tell me, Raven. What happens at this tower?”
“I can’t. It’s the secret that must never be spoken.”
Tak laughed from his belly and the sound echoed through the forest. “Raven, it was never in your nature to make jokes. Answer my question! There can be no secrets between Khryseoi.”
Raven’s dark eyes flashed as he looked directly at Tak. “There are now.”
Tak folded his arms and felt his chest heave with each breath. “Have you been tracking me? What’s going on?”
Raven scratched his chin with his thumb. “Fire has played a decisive role in the war. Knowledge of this... daemon fire... mustn’t fall into enemy hands. That’s as much as I can tell you.”
“The voices... they’re Khryseoi. Aren’t they?” Tak watched Raven swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his clean-shaven neck. “It’s all right, Raven. You don’t need to answer.”
Raven reached into his robes and drew out the hilt of a black sword. A fragment of the blade, as long as Tak’s middle finger, remained. “Secrets can be taken by force so you must do what you can to protect it.” He placed the hilt in Tak’s hand. “You know what you must do!”
The weapon was heavy for its size. At its touch, Tak understood the blade existed across worlds and could cut spirit and flesh. He nodded and pulled his eyes away from the strange weapon. Raven’s gaze had weight. “Are you going to do the same?”
Raven gripped Tak by the arms and shook his head. “No, Kaha’i. When we next meet, I’ll have no memory of the tower, the flame or this conversation. You must never speak of your vision... especially to me.” Raven’s mouth smiled but his eyes did not. He turned and disappeared into the forest as if he were being carried along by the wind.
* * *
The icy wind rose and fell through the night, threatening to tear away their shelter. During a short reprieve, Raven felt a hand on his shoulder, gently stirring him from sleep. “What is it?” he said, peering into the dark.
He heard a rasping sound, a man’s voice, trying to speak without a tongue.
“Solomon?” said Raven, grasping Tak’s hand. Tak squeezed his hand lightly. His fingers were cold.
“Tak? Are you all right?”
Tak squeezed Raven’s hand again and lay down to sleep. Raven closed his eyes but only slept in fitful bursts. Dawn came with blinding ferocity. The wind had abated but the storm had dumped a thick layer of fresh snow on the mountain face. Raven shielded his eyes against the glare. Beside him, the others woke from their snow-blanketed bed, also blinking as their eyes adjusted to the light.
“Let’s press on,” said Raven. His voice was hoarse. “Tak senses Solomon is close.” He jostled Tak, who had not risen. Raven removed his glove, rolled Tak over and felt his face. He was cold. Raven hadn’t noticed until now that Tak’s nose, hands and feet had turned black. No warm breath escaped his lungs. He felt Windsong’s hand at his shoulder.
“Let him go,” she said. “This time, there can be no debate.”
“What about his body? There’s no way to burn it,” said Xi.
“This time, we’ll have to trust it to the ice,” said Raven. “We should get moving.”
The reprieve from the weather was short-lived. The wind picked up again, whistling in their ears. They chained themselves together with the rope. Windsong took the lead, followed by Raven, Klinge and Xi. They continued blindly onward.
Raven felt a tug at his waist and was pulled off his feet. He felt himself sliding downward through the snow. The rope tied to Windsong snapped taut and then slackened. She crashed into his back. They hurtled down the slope and landed in a heap. Raven grabbed at the rope around his waist. He tried to dig his feet into the snow but his shoes had been knocked loose. He saw a dark shape ahead, a jutting rock, like a single pointed tooth. Xi and Klinge narrowly scraped past its edge. Raven stretched out his legs to meet it. He heard his ankles crack and felt the rope tighten around his waist. Windsong cried out at his back. He twisted his head and saw her face. Her teeth were clenched and she struggled to draw breath. He tried to move and realised he couldn’t feel his feet. There was intense weight on the rope at his waist. His vision darkened. He tasted bile and felt a throbbing ache in his feet. Rolling his body against the pull of the rope, he wedged himself against the rock.
Windsong drew breath with a haunting gasp. She lay panting, then stirred. “Raven?”
“Check the others!”
She wrestled with the snow, got to her knees and untied the rope at her waist. On all fours she tracked the rope to the edge of a cliff. Klinge and Xi were suspended in the air. She grabbed the line and pulled but could do little. “Climb!” she called.
Klinge groaned and shook his head. Below, Xi drew his sword. He took it by the tip of the blade and rocking his arm back and forth, hurled it into the air. Windsong caught it by the hilt.
“Do it!” he shouted to her.
She pressed her hand to her mouth, kissed it and waved goodbye. As the sword sliced through the rope, Raven felt the weight release at his waist. Windsong returned and he felt her hands on him. Snow curled down around them, coming to rest against now numb limbs. He passed out.
* * *
When Raven woke, he was still wrapped around the rock. Windsong had erected a makeshift shelter with the canvas. He groaned and felt her stir next to him.
“Drink!” she said, raising a water skin to his lips. It was cold but wet his mouth. Outside, the wind tested the shelter’s strength. He passed out again.
He was roused by sharp pain. Windsong was straightening and setting his ankles. His body dealt with it the best way it knew how, by taking him away from reality once more.
It was day when he woke. The sun’s light seared his eyeballs through closed lids. He blinked, brushed his wet hair from his face and reached out for Windsong. She lay next to him. Her pale cheeks already belonged to the ice. He touched her neck. She was breathing but her pulse was weak.
“I’m sorry,” he said, lying down again. The desire to sleep was overpowering. He closed his eyes, allowing the cold to dull his hunger, thirst and the grinding ache of his ankles. Windsong stirred and babbled a few words under her breath. It sounded like her native language and he regretted never having learnt to speak it. She moaned. It had a peculiarly musical quality. As he listened, he felt his chest warm, his fingers tingle and the blood pump through his body. The canvas sheet sheltering them
from the storm was ripped away and a man looked down on them from under a fur hood. Raven closed his eyes and allowed the epiphaneia to warm his frozen limbs.
~ Chapter 13 ~
Solomon’s Mountain (Ancient Swiss Alps)
256 BC
Raven felt Solomon’s arms lift him from the snow to a broad wooden sled. The bronze runners were bright, polished by their use. Solomon covered Raven with a woollen blanket and secured him to the basket with two thick leather straps. Raven tried to speak but could only croak. Solomon placed Windsong next to Raven, covered her with a blanket and strapped her in place. Raven saw another shadow from the corner of his eye. Craning his neck, he caught a glimpse of an enormous brown bear with a harness on its back. Solomon spoke to the creature. Raven couldn’t make out the words over the sound of the wind. The sled shuddered and started moving, skating over the snow as fast as a man could run over grass.
Raven didn’t know how far they travelled or for how long. The mountain was a white expanse without any landmarks except dips and rises. Unable to move, he only saw the snow spray dancing overhead. He gave in to exhaustion and fell asleep. Sometime later, he was roused by strong hands removing the restraints. Solomon lifted him over his shoulder. Solomon was short and slender but he carried Raven with ease. As Raven became fully conscious, he caught another glimpse of the bear, now curled in a large brown ball at the entrance to a cave. The sled was empty. Solomon trudged through the snow and muttered to the bear in passing. The bear opened an eye and then wrapped its shaggy arm over its face. The sunlight dimmed as they entered the cave. Solomon swept some heavy canvas curtains aside and Raven felt warm air on his face. Solomon lowered him onto a bench and covered him with a blanket.
“Is my companion—?”
“Lie still!” said Solomon. His voice was deep for such a small man.
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