by David Oliver
A good thing too, because the sheer amount of bad weather that started rolling in made our days miserable. Jadira’s words about how bad the weather would get roughly three weeks after our departure from the fort were proving strangely prophetic. The only consolation was that the Hrudan party must have faced the same difficulties. Snow was becoming a real problem, both in terms of the cold and in terms of depth. I was able to wade my way through the majority of the snow drifts due to my height and strength but some of the smaller members of the party, Ella and Rikol in particular, were starting to struggle. More and more frequently terrible snow storms struck, rolling across the empty skies with astonishing speed to strike with unmitigated fury. On these occasions I began to rely more heavily on my senses and consequently took the lead, tying the others to me and taking the best route to shelter. When the storms hit the snow was so blindingly thick and the wind was at times so powerful that you couldn’t see more than a couple of feet in front of you, rendering us effectively deaf and blind to the world. For one day in particular we were kept in a tiny shelter that Cassius and I fought to create against the wind. How to dig a snow hole was something that our fathers had taught us at a young age, not that we had needed to use the technique before, but it proved surprisingly warm, if not particularly cosy, and I credit it with keeping us alive for that day. When we got out of the snow hole the next morning the snow was so thick that it came up to our waists. Cassius and I put our heads together to recall everything and anything that our parents had taught us years earlier before trekking to hunt down some saplings that had survived the ravages of the winter and lashing them together with strips of hide into oval shapes to create a terrible mockery of a snowshoe.
Terrible and yet surprisingly effective. I’m not sure if our parents would have been proud or scornful considering that what we had created did not remotely represent the art that they had once taught us. But most importantly to us was that they worked, allowing our feet to sink into the snow by a couple of inches rather than down to our waists. Our going was slow but infinitely faster than the speed we were doing before. By this point largely all signs of the Hrudan party had disappeared, covered under mounds of snow. The landscape had changed completely, becoming a barren, frozen wasteland filled with howling wind. Where I had once been in awe of this stark landscape I was now purely focused on putting one step in front of the next and being as warm as possible. I imagine that for the others it was much worse but complaints were few and far between with everyone lost in their own miserable worlds.
Judging the right direction to go in was far more difficult than before. When the sun was overhead and with no storm howling on our faces, it was possible to see far into the distance and locate the mountain range that I presumed the Hrudan were heading for. As soon as the clouds rolled in and blinding snow filled the sky, travelling by landmark became impossible. Often we would find that once the weather lifted our direction had changed considerably and we would be forced to add further miles onto our journey. What hope we had for finding the Hrudan party swiftly soon became hope that we would find the party at all. Eventually, after five frostbitten days after leaving Kernighan’s destroyed village, we gave up any hope of finding the group and our aim became purely to reach the base of the mountains. We were covering probably six, maybe seven miles in a day, each one longer and more arduous than the last. Hidden features of the terrain, like ravines or tree roots that snared your feet under the snow became punishing. Obstacles that would take no time at all to bypass in the summer took forever when covered in layers of snow; instead becoming deadly traps, just waiting for someone to slip and hit their head whilst in the depths of a blizzard. Thankfully however we managed to navigate these obstacles without injury and eventually, perhaps four weeks after we had left the fort, we reached the base of the mountains, far behind our original schedule thanks to the diversion caused by both the weather and Kernighan, and began a slow trek along the base; keeping an eye on any potential passes.
It was a long, tedious and dangerous job. Something I’m sure Jadira understood full well when she gave it to us. The majority of the mountains that we travelled past consisted of sheer rock faces and so would be extremely difficult to bypass, but every now and again we would be forced to follow some twisting turning attribute of the mountain that looked like it might be a path. Each one led on some perilous journey up steep and exposed routes that inevitably ended in nothing at all. Our only protection on those climbs was the thick rope that we tied around ourselves and the hope that if one fell then the others could haul them back in.
The main problem however, was that for all that Cassius and I were mountain born, we hadn’t been exposed to weather of this magnitude, or at least not whilst we were fending for ourselves without the experience of our village and relatives to guide us. No one in the party was particularly well suited to this environment or had relevant experience in the many dangers of the mountains.
And that is how we all nearly died.
We were climbing up one particularly steep section of mountain; in hindsight it was something that was more like a mountain goat’s trail than a route that heavily laden Hrudan could follow but we had undertaken to leave no stone unturned. Consequently we pushed far up the mountain, twisting and turning along narrow precipices, facing sheer drops and slippery surfaces with nothing but hide boots, our thick rope and sticks we had brought for walking. It was difficult, dangerous, and extremely stupid, but we were Imperators in training and we had a job to do, reckoning that our skills, our abilities, and above all our reckless youthful optimism would keep us safe. It turns out that nature cares nothing for what you believe. It only cares about what you do and how you do it, and climbing a mountain whilst shouting at the top of your lungs was certainly not the way. Unfortunately that was how we approached it, shouting at each other against the wind. Roaring at the top of our lungs to make ourselves heard as we clambered up the steep rocks. And eventually, nature decided to make us pay the price.
What a bitch.
The first I sensed of it was a tremor in the rock, a shaking that I couldn’t attribute to the cold in my hands. Next I saw pebbles shaking and rolling their way down the hill, and then I saw snow pouring off the top shelf of the mountain. Like a liquid torrent it thundered its way towards us, ripping boulders and rocks off the mountainside and carrying them along in its wake.
“Avalanche!” I roared, desperately looking for somewhere for us to hide. There’s got to be something, somewhere, I thought frantically. We were exposed, stuck on the side of a mountain with no quick means of descent aside from the very obvious and direct route by which the avalanche was intending to take us.
“The cliff!” screamed Sophia, pointing at the closest rock face that jutted out from the mountain. It was sheer and there were not many easily visible holds, but it was overhanging which meant that we wouldn’t get snow raining down upon us from above - as long as we could hold on. I had my doubts, the rock looked slick and we were not equipped for climbing, but there was no other option.
Quickly we sprinted for the cliff, throwing aside gear that was slowing us down and removing the fur gloves that were keeping our hands safe from the cold. Even if we survived we were going to be in a very precarious situation indeed. Sophia reached it first, her nimble fingers quickly finding holds on the rock face, her boots scrabbling at the rock as she tried to hold herself in place before moving further out to make room for the others. One by one we shifted onto the rock face, fingers holding onto the smallest of holds with the energy of desperation. The ‘death grip’ I had heard it called when discussing mountaineering in the Academy with some Imperators. It was meant to be a bad thing, something that ensured that you tired out your arms much faster than if you trusted your arms to hold onto the same bit of rock with less ferocity - but I doubted that even those Imperators could have clung in the same situation and not been squeezing with all their might.
A quick glance showed me that everyone was managing so fa
r. Ella was surprisingly at ease in this environment, her strong hands and small figure lending itself well to traversing the wall, and I doubted it was the first time that she had taken up climbing, particularly when growing up in the Chains of Forgoth. Scythe too, seemed in his element, his strong arms and powerful figure keeping him in place. Rikol, much like Sophia, was scrabbling for purchase for his feet, not trusting his fingers to keep him in place. Cassius was pressed up under the rock face and straining his feet against the wall whilst keeping his torso tight, with his fingers embedded in a small pocket the tension in his body all that was keeping him from slipping. I had my hand wedged deep into a small crack that extended above my head, the other hand was out wide and hanging off a small outcropping. The rock was sharp, slicing into my fingers so much so that I could feel blood welling. Doubtless the others were experiencing exactly the same. I held my breath, hearing the roar coming closer and closer until it felt like the entire rock face was going to collapse due to the weight of the sound.
And then the avalanche hit.
The rock trembled, shook and groaned under the impact of the snow. All of our attempts to hang on suddenly became that much harder as blinding white erupted around us, threatening to suck us down if an errant leg or arm was misplaced. Splintering rock could be heard as boulders large and small struck against each other before launching off the edge of the cliff to explode below. Anyone caught in the flow would have to face a drop of near a hundred feet onto solid rock and if they somehow survived that they would inevitably be crushed, swamped and suffocated by the deluge of rock and ice. We were surviving by pure luck and, judging by what I could see of Rikol, quite literally the skin of our teeth. I could only hope that the snow ended before our strength gave out.
Screaming got my attention, the sound almost lost in the thunder around us. I could see Ella reaching for Rikol whose face was blanching almost as white as the surrounding snow as both his feet scrabbled for purchase against the slippery rock, one hand loose and dangling, avid panic in his eyes. Ella’s hand reached, touched, missed and touched again as Rikol flailed until she finally grasped his wrist. Panting heavily he clutched in his panic, threatening Ella’s safety like a drowning swimmer might a would-be saviour. She wobbled, a minor motion that sent shivers down my spine. Scythe was moving to assist, reaching out a hand to help haul Rikol back on to the wa-
Rikol’s foot flared too far and hit the wall of snow. Instantly he disappeared, sucked into a world of white. The sudden jerk was too much for Ella’s fingers and she too vanished into the snow.
“Hold on!” Sophia screamed before the rope went taught and Scythe whipped from the wall, bloodied hands pinging off the sharp rock. The rope strained and pulled at my torso and my hands screamed as I clung on with every inch of strength left to me. Sophia and I were opposite sides of the rope that held us tight, if the two of us could hold it we could potentially haul in the others once the avalanche ceased.
And then Cassius, taking the brunt of the weight on an awkward hold, lost his grip and was plucked from the face with a roar of despair. Sophia and I locked eyes a split second before she disappeared; gone like she had never been. I screamed as the weight on my body pulled my legs from the wall, my hand that I had jammed into the crack as deep as it could go was the only thing keeping me from joining my friends and the only thing potentially keeping them alive. I could feel the tendons quivering in my arm and could hear the joints popping in my shoulder as my ligaments, tendons and my entire body screamed against the punishment. For all my strength and power, holding the combined weight of the entire party against the indomitable might of the avalanche was never going to end well.
With a barely audible but very physical sensation my shoulder dislocated. My scream became one of pure agony. My primal instinct was to let go instantly, yet I wasn’t sure I could do so even if my instinct overrode my reason. My hand was wedged deep into the rock, rivulets of blood running down my arm and onto my neck as my skin tore against the sharp edges. One by one I could feel things - likely very important and highly needed things - ping all along my shoulder and arm as my muscles stretched and tore even more.
My screaming was a mixture of pure animal panic and fury at this point. I could feel my arm shredding, my hand a raw and bloodied thing. If the snow kept on coming then I was positive that dislocation would be the least of my worries, but I could do nothing except hang on for as long as possible. Hang on and hope that they could survive the thundering torrent. I cursed and screamed as my arm continued to separate, howling until my vision began to go grey, until, with more sickening crunches from my shoulder, my body went limp and my vision black.
I woke up what felt like hours later but was just minute-like seconds. I was no longer on the wall; my hand must have relaxed enough to escape the crack I had wedged it into. I was trapped in a world of white, a shifting and tumbling universe where I could not determine what was up and what was down. Soon enough the motion settled as the avalanche died down, its anger spent. Thankfully the weight of the snow pressing down on me was not all encompassing. Heavy and terrifying yes, but not unbearable. It gave me hope that my friends could be saved. The snow around me was stained red, and though I couldn’t move my head to see my arm, any attempt to move it was met with agony. Gritting my teeth I lifted my good arm and slowly began to dig.
Digging yourself out of snow, especially many layers of snow, is exhausting. Not as bad as trying to dig oneself out of sand - a recurring theme in my nightmares thanks to our ill-fated trip to the desert - but close. I imagine that if I didn’t have Seya’s strength to draw on I would have taken far, far longer, or simply not managed at all. The rising panic was the worst. The feeling like you’re completely trapped, locked in place, with stifling air convincing you that you’re going to suffocate. When I finally broke free it was an exuberant feeling, the taste of fresh mountain air flowing into my lungs bringing unbidden tears to my eyes. I lay there for a second, gasping, feeling battered, bruised, and completely unable to do what I had to do next. Pushing all that self-pity aside I slowly dragged myself to my knees and felt for the rope around my waist. Extending my senses, I could feel the muffled thumping and the frantic scrabbling of some of my friends as they tried to escape their icy prisons. More worryingly was that at least two of them were unmoving. Gripping the rope tightly I made my way over to the next person in the chain and began to pull.
After what felt like an eternity later I had everyone out. Scythe had been the first and though he was battered and bruised he had been able to assist me in retrieving the next in the chain. Three hands made it a lot faster than one and quickly we had been able to retrieve Ella and Rikol - a good thing too because both of them were unconscious and whether due to impact or asphyxiation we weren’t sure. Cassius and Sophia took a little longer. Both were awake and actively trying to get out of the snow, however they’d been buried very deep and it took time to get them out whilst at the same time trying to take care of Rikol and Ella. Eventually everyone was out on top of the snow and more or less in one piece. Surprisingly, I was by far the most injured. The others have various cuts and scrapes and the majority of their bodies would be one gigantic bruise in the coming hours but, whether by some divine providence or just pure luck, they were more or less intact with no seriously debilitating injuries. On the other hand, I looked like I had just come out of a war. With my arm hanging loosely - the dislocation causing me to look lopsided - and blood covering my clothes thanks to the flesh on my arm that had been torn to ribbons, I had given the others quite a fright.
I bit back a scream as Cassius lifted my arm out in front of me until it thunked back into the socket with a horrible jolt. “Sorry,” he muttered as he finished tightening the strips of tattered cloak around my lacerated arm. “Best I can do to stop the bleeding for the moment. As for your shoulder I suggest not moving it for as long as possible. Dislocation is one thing but I can’t do anything for any internal damage.” He gave me a small grin. “Besides there
’s nothing to say that you aren’t going to die of infection in the next couple of days so might as well not worry about the shoulder eh?”
He was jesting and I forced a smile, but we both knew that without supplies we were in a sticky situation. Somewhere on the side of the mountain were our packs. Packs that contained food, water and weapons. As it was we were stuck on the side of an inhospitable mountain with fresh injuries, damp clothes and no supplies which was a delightfully unenviable position to be in. With night drawing in, we needed to figure out a solution and fast.
With a pained grunt I hauled myself to my feet, Cassius’s arm offering me steadying support. “Normally,” he said as I began to move, “I would tell you to sit back down and not move your arse until your arm was fixed. But with your healing as reduced as it is, time is going to be our enemy. Just…try to take it easy?”
I barked a laugh at that. “Not sure that I have much say in the matter,” I replied with a small grin. “The mountain does as the mountain wants and currently that seems to involve giving us the middle finger. We need to find our supplies and we won’t last long exposed like this.”
“Agreed,” he said with a nod. “There are snow clouds on the horizon. We best get shelter sorted before we look for any further supplies. Snow hole?”
“Snow hole,” I echoed with a nod. “Though this time, I think you guys will need to do most of the digging.”
In the end it didn’t take us too long to get the shelter sorted. We buried ourselves into the fresh snow as close to the overhanging rock face that had saved us as possible. Whether or not that was a good idea I didn’t know, but we were rapidly losing the light and the adrenaline pumped adventures of the day had us all weary. By the time it was complete it was pretty much all we could do to crawl inside and fall into exhausted slumber. Outside the snow raged; howling wind shrieked across the mountain range and coated any exposed surface in white, yet for all its fury it went unnoticed.