by Ellie Cypher
“Promise.” He crossed his heart and laughed. When he were done wiping his eyes, he looked right up at me. My breath caught. “But Jorie, if I had missed that shot. I don’t know if—”
The spike of a pitiful yelp cut him off.
Stars, Fen. “Fen!” I ran to where the dogs circled her, every breath a hitch of pain in my side. Be alright, Fen. I pushed between Addy and Boz, expecting the worst. I would never forgive myself, never. But I shouldn’t have worried. Fen rushed over to me.
“Let me see, let me see.” Fen, skeptical, submitted to my ministrations. Quick survey told me it weren’t fatal, but it weren’t good. And that I’d have to see to it later. I threw an arm around her; she licked up at my face. I nuzzled into her fur. I’d need to check them all over. I turned to find not Boz but Cody standing there. Staring at me. As surprised as if he’d just caught me doing something he ain’t ever seen.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.” Cody’s smile faded, his eyes a quick mask of flashed hurt.
I turned away. Good. If you don’t let people in, if you don’t care bout ’em, then they can’t hurt you. I’d clear forgotten it. But I remembered it now.
“Let’s go.” The map. I slid my hand into my pocket. Empty. I searched the snow. Frantic. On my hands and knees, I threw piece after piece of our kit to the side.
“It can’t be gone. It can’t be.” But search as I did, the only bit I found were a small piece ground near to pulp in the slush. I coughed hard. A spike of pain, searing up my side.
Cody knelt helping me search. But it were useless. Everything hurt.
“Jorie, it’s gone.”
Slumping onto the ice, hands in my lap, I clutched at the small, useless piece of what had once been the paper that meant my sister’s life. One breath. Two. Three. My spine hardened. My muscles went cold. Because we—Bren and me—we didn’t give up. I raised my eyes, looking right at Cody.
“Save what ya can. We move out as soon as we’re able.”
“Jorie—”
“We leave as soon as we can.” Cause no matter what happened, you picked yourself up and you went on. You had to. Pity? Save that for the foolish and the dead.
Troubled, Cody agreed. Together in silence we picked up what little were left.
A long whip of freezing wind ripped past, sending snow and scraps twisting into the air. Setting my teeth to clattering. We may have survived the ox, but if we didn’t get out of here soon and find some shelter, it wouldn’t much matter. We’d be dead from exposure before sunrise.
“Where did that thing even come from?” Cody asked, tone careful neutral as he picked his way over what had been a blanket, but which were now no more than thin strips of the once plush pelt.
I near wanted to laugh, but even the shake of bitter mirth had my ribs aching. I ran a hand across my brow, pushing away stray hairs. “Wouldn’t be the first time an animal had done that out here. Not by a long shot,” I said, fingers shaking. I stilled them on the warmth of the pendant.
Cody glanced over the horizon where the ox had fled. “Right.”
Didn’t sound like he meant it. Behind him, the pack were trotting toward us.
Fen was up, the bleeding mostly stopped, and she weren’t limping too bad. The rest were tired but no more worse for wear. Not that the dogs had anything left to pull. Our sled, like near all the rest, were crushed.
Right. First things first, I need something to clean and wrap the gash on Fen’s leg and the slashes to the side of her chest. She was lucky. The wounds, while wide and looked something awful, weren’t too deep and nothing were broke. I knelt at her side, torn cloth in hand, and pushed around at the wounds. Fen never let out more than a little whine.
Across from us, Cody were sifting through the remains of our gear. Leaving Fen with a pat, I walked to Cody’s side. I kicked over one of the furs. Maybe, if some of this blood would rub out, it’d be okay. I picked it up and wrinkled my nose. Maybe not.
Some of our stuff were still useful. All of the dogs’ rations for one, and maybe less than half of ours. Least the dogs could eat. A black ball caught my eye.
I brushed the snow from it. And then another. Three of the orbs had made it unbroken. I handed them to Cody, who tucked ’em under his furs.
When all were said and done, there were enough left of the sled to cobble a littler one together. A narrow sling I fashioned from the shattered sled’s rails and the remains of our tent. Not a ride for either of us, but it could take Fen while she healed; no way were we leaving any one of us behind.
As Cody finished clattering the boards together, I turned to our own transportation.
No sled meant a slow journey. It also meant we needed something for our feet. It took me no short time, but by bending the now-useless metal of the side rails, I curled them into snowshoes for the both of us. Not great, but we wouldn’t sink. Least not too deep.
Stars it were cold. My teeth rattlin in my skull.
Get it together. Ain’t no one here to save you but yourself.
Tightening the reins with shaking arms, I lumbered to my feet—hissing my breath in against the stiff pain of my aching muscles—and tested the shoes by jumping. Hard. Sunk into my ankles. At this point I were sure even my shadow hurt.
I didn’t much like the idea of traveling by night, but there weren’t much choice. No tent to speak of, no nearby shelter, not even a bald rock face. I stared out at the blackness of the horizon. It just weren’t fair. It weren’t.
Only instead of letting that desperation drown me, I let it burn. Stoked it till it warmed my tired muscles. Till I near to glowed with the heat of it. Cause we were going to get out of here. We were going to make it. Grinding my teeth, I straightened my spine. And we sure as stars were going to save my sister.
Cody stumbled to my side, his eyes bleak, his entire body radiating exhaustion. Quiet, we stood shoulder to shoulder, arms touching ever so light. The silence of the landscape swelled around us. Shifted and moved as overhead the first flicker of the great northern lights, green and gold, marveled into life.
With only the icy breath of the Flats at our backs and the light of the heavens above, I walked us into the great expanse of ice looming before us.
CHAPTER 19 Red Dawn Rising
Sometime in the very early hours, the stars came out.
Little echoes of light in the dark, they hung bright and lonesome against the night. A midnight map scrolled across the world, just waitin to be read. To the north, the eye of the Great Bear were the largest. High and luminous light, it shone merciful brilliant, blinking down, guiding us on true. Toward Nocna Mora. Toward Bren.
The shimmer of a false sun hung in the horizon. A mirage. There were still hours till light, real light, would rise. Pressing my hand to the ice-stone pendant under my coat, which had gone cold, I kept us walking. One foot then the next. One, two, one, two. Just keep moving. Hours and hours passed with little other than the beating of our hearts to mark our progress. One foot then the next.
When the aching white flatness finally broke, it weren’t good. A massive cleft cut across the ice. A gaping dark wound, it split the horizon wide. There would be no going round. Not for leagues and leagues. Time we didn’t have. My only hope were that somewhere along its icy grin, it were narrow enough to jump. Not a happy prospect.
I inched closer, dropping the litter. I leaned over real careful like, unsure if the ledge could support me. From the depths a gust of cold air raced up, stealing at my breath.
Sheer walls of blue ice plummeted hundreds of feet down, their path eaten away by the rushing of a massive river. The churning crystal blue of a glacier-born water. A sinking dread filled my gut as the growlin waters reverberated from the down deep. I shuffled back from the edge. Racing water, I knew, would flow all the way to shore. Cause water always found its way. I just hoped we would too.
With care, I guided us along the most stable section of the western edge, searching for a way across. For some lone strip of ice n
ot yet pulled under by the river below. It felt like hours passed before I found one strong enough. Like a frozen strand of impossible silk, the narrow bridge of ice spanned the fathoms-deep fissure below. Just wide enough.
“Stay close,” I called out. Cody and the dogs came to my side as the first stretch of sunrise were just beginning to break over the edge of the ice. In it, Cody gave me a grim but determined look.
I unhitched the dogs, taking the reins. I gave Fen a pat on the head and were rewarded by a slow wag of her tail as she stood. Tiptoeing my way out, I tested the bridge. Mercifully, nothing broke. Or cracked. We’d just have to see. Swallowing, I took a full step out onto the strip of ice. And stopped. Listening for shifting. For that slow creeping that filled your gut with fear. Just before the whole world gave way beneath your bones.
But there were nothing. I tapped my heels. Solid enough.
Behind me, the dogs began to whine and crowd at the narrow start, jostling for position. Ice groaned under my feet. I put up hand. But too late, as Addy ran into my legs, knocking me off balance. The world spun; my feet slipped. I didn’t have time to scream. Snow scattered off the ledge, falling free into the turbulent waters below as I caught my balance. Inches from the edge. When my heart quit lurching, I settled my breathing and walked Addy back. Properly chastised, she sat with the rest of the pack. Cody walked to her side. Taking a deep breath, I turned away from his still-worried stare and back to crossing. There’d be time to think on it later, how close that had been. I tested the bridge near to all the way middle. Again it held. I walked back to Cody’s side.
“We’ll have to go single file,” I said.
“Or else what?” Cody’s face had drained of all color. His hands dug in deep into Fen’s fur. Knuckles white. The dog gave him a worried twist of her head, but didn’t move from his pet.
“We all fall. I’d thought that were pretty obvious.”
“Ah, right. Yes, got it.”
“You sure?” I shot Cody with a look.
“I’m not great with heights.” He grimaced. “But I’ll be fine.”
I frowned at him. “Just try not to get too near the edge. You’ll be alright. Just do what I do and keep close.”
Cody didn’t look too convinced.
“Dogs first, I think.” I whistled and gestured over the bridge. Lightest, they’d the best chance to get over before Cody and me cracked it with our weight.
My brave Boz walked out first out. He slipped a little, makin my heart thump out of my chest. But he didn’t seem troubled. And finally, after Boz had made it, the rest of ’em, in a great show of running, crawling, and scrambling, made it across. I turned to Cody.
“Ready?”
“Ready.”
I stepped out onto the ice bridge. Cody, a step behind, followed.
Breathe, Jorie. In out, in out, one foot in front of the other. Breathe, pause, and walk. Breathe, pause, and walk. It were like a dance. Measured and exact. The world narrowed to just the very act of moving. When we at last took our first steps onto solid ground, every nerve in my body were buzzing bright.
Behind me, Cody stumbled onto his knees. “As fun as that was,” he gasped out, clutching at the snow, “I vote we do not ever do that again.”
I held out an arm. He took it without hesitation and I lifted him up.
His hand held mine a heartbeat too long before he let go. We were so close. I took a step back and brushed my hand off on my shirt.
“Stars, Jorie, it was pitch as night down there. It felt like”—he ran a hand over his face—“like I was walking over my own grave.” His face so serious, eyes wide.
He weren’t that far from wrong. I patted his shoulder. “Don’t you go getting any ideas, Cody Colburn. You ain’t getting out of this that easy.”
Cody gave me a slow smile, tension easing from his bones. “Banish the very thought.”
I smiled back. I couldn’t help myself.
If we were hoping for a break after the crevasse, it weren’t a wish that got answered. The glacier on the other side of the rift turned out to be extraordinary slick. And the going were slow at best. But at least it were firm enough. Ahead of us the horizon were a golden band of rising sun. Squinting into it, I oriented toward the northeast. And walked.
Hours passed, and finally the glacier’s massive ice sheet ran up against an immovable face of what looked like granite. The promise of stable ground.
From the erupting rock, heavy threads of ice hung one after another. They didn’t interest me. But the small opening in the rock… that did. I pointed. Cody followed my direction. Shelter had arrived.
The closer we got to the cave, the more everything hurt. All my adrenaline from the ice bridge crossing had finally faded, leaving me nothing but pain. At the base of the rock Cody tripped. Pack slipping from his shoulder. I reached out, my muscles screaming in protest.
“Cody, I—” A scuttle of pebbles fell from the white cliff overhead, raining onto my shoulder. I looked at the fallen stones. All of them were coated with a thick red clay. I froze. There weren’t no mud around here. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I put a finger to my lips.
In the silence we waited as the muted crunching of rock filled the air. From behind me, the dogs let out a series of low growls. Slow, I reached for my gun and scanned the ridgeline.
One, two, ten minutes and still nothing came. My arm grew tired and eventually the dogs lost interest and began to whine. We needed to move out of here; I had to get us safe. Without thinkin, I took Cody’s hand and pressed us forward, walked to the cave with one eye on the ridge behind.
The cave tunneled deep into the rock. Far larger than I’d thought it’d be from the outside. Not just cause it were wide, but because it kept going. Rock walls twisting away into darkness. I went to tug up my collar and were met by resistance. Cody hadn’t let go of my hand. And I hadn’t let go of his. Hasty, I dropped it and took a step away. A flash of hurt crossed his face and I turned, avoiding the deep green of his eyes. I itched the palm of my hand against my chest and scowled. I were tired, that were all.
I forced my attention to the dim of the cave around us. Which might not have been as abandoned as I’d hoped.
Along one side, a ring of charred rocks circled the sandy floor. A firepit. Surprised, I walked over and brushed my foot over the remains of a what had clearly been an old fire. Deep strands of ash feathered into the air. I sneezed.
Beneath the old coals, a little stick of white peaked out. A chunk of broken bone. Rib, if I weren’t wrong. Little teeth marks nibbled along the edges where someone or something had chewed away the hard outer bone to get to the sweet red marrow within.
Outside the wind picked up, a well-timed screech rattling the ice. We both turned, but there were nothing, no walking shadows out of stories. No myths at all. The silence built, but no one and nothing came. Half an eye on the entrance and the other half on Cody, I picked my pack up from the ground and shook out our supplies. Warmth. We needed warmth.
Only a few false starts later and I managed to breathe flames into the old pit’s meager excuse for kindling. The fleshless bones catching, snapping with newborn heat. Heat that were something merciful against our skin. Flickering waves of light, yellow and blue and green, lit the cave, dancing off the walls and sinking into the sands.
With a huff, I joined Cody. The dogs had already curled up in tight little balls along the far wall. A little edge of rock dug into my back, and it took a few movements to get comfortable. Cody gave me a half smile. I looked at his profile. And hoped I didn’t look near that ragged. Cody and I traded the water flask back and forth, sitting quiet for a long time. Outside snow began to fall.
“Can I ask you something, Jorie?” Cody said, turning a half-opened eye to me.
I leaned my head into the wall, my legs and toes finally warming from the fire. “Sure.”
“I’ve been thinking.”
“Good for you. Never too late to start.”
He gave me the
flick of a look. “I mean about all of this. About the Warders of Vydra.”
I started a little at that. “What about them?” I asked real slow. Not many people talked about them. Stars, not many people thought they were real. I’d never heard anyone even say the name. They were supposed to be human, but only just. Their lines forged by generations of people sworn to the city, bound by the cold. An otherness fused into their very frames. And as ice-touched as they came.
That were the real curse. People died out in the Flats not by magic, but by madness. Their stories all twisted up wrong inside them until they thought cold were warmth and death a mercy. Till they couldn’t believe nothing their minds told ’em to be true. Across from us the fire, burning low and warm, sent light flickering over the sleeping dogs. Black shadows swaying on the far wall, forms distorted and strange. As was everything out on the Flats. It could get to you, that. If you let it.
“Just hear me out. If the Tracers are real, if Vydra is real, it follows its legendary guards are real too. Doesn’t it?”
“Does it? Cause of the few stories I’ve heard, I really hope they ain’t.”
Cody dipped his head, as if I’d agreed. I suppose I had. “And Nocna Mora?”
“What of it?”
A pensive look passed over his face. “Is that where the Warders are from?”
“No.”
“So then where do the Warders come from? Where do they live?” Cody stared up at the ceiling, face thoughtful. “And what about the Rovers?”
I scoffed. “Ain’t no use wastin time on thinkin about it.” I rolled my neck, a knot piercing painful at the base. “Cause where we’re going, we don’t need no more terrible men to add to it.”
“But—”
“If you think anything stuck way out there in the ice needs any more protecting than what the Flats themselves already provide—well then, that’s just plain stupid. How many people you seen here just walkin round for the fun of it?”