Apparently, Sorial hadn’t come this way. They had asked everyone who passed through the inn going north or south, as well as the innkeeper, serving wenches, resident whores, and stableboys. No one had seen anyone matching descriptions of Sorial, Warburm, or Lamanar. If they had used Widow’s Pass, they hadn’t stopped at The Gateway. That left three possibilities: Sorial’s group hadn’t yet reached here, they had elected to travel north using the less mountainous Earlford routes, or they were bound for another portal. The third possibility caused Alicia the most consternation; it was also the one about which she could do nothing. If he had gone in search of another portal, he might be dead by now. She found the notion strange that he could have passed beyond this world without her somehow feeling his death, but that’s the way it was with ephemeral human connections.
Tomorrow, they would go. Unless they awaited the Planting thaw, which was more than a season away, it seemed unlikely conditions would improve to the point where a trip through Widow’s Pass could be called “safe.” In fact, if they waited another week to greet the official onset of Winter and see in the new year, the pass might be buried in snow. It was either go now or turn back, and Alicia hadn’t come this far to turn back. She would travel to the portal and greet Sorial there or wait long enough to be sure he wasn’t coming. She didn’t know how long that might be. It wasn’t a question she wanted to face.
The four were gathered in the room shared by Kara and Alicia. Soon, Vagrum and Rexall would head to the common room to hear the latest gossip and learn what they could about the path ahead while Kara and Alicia retired. Aside from the whores and serving girls (who, unlike in The Wayfarer’s Comfort, were not necessarily interchangeable), women weren’t often seen outside their private rooms at this hour. This was a time for men to drink too much ale, laugh at bawdy jokes, and get into brawls.
“How does it look for tomorrow?” asked Rexall.
Vagrum shrugged. “Hard to say. There are still groups coming through from the North, although none of the big caravans, and fewer every day. Too dangerous for the bigger wagons and becoming a risk for the smaller ones. I talked to a merchant’s guard today and he said it wasn’t too bad. Slippery in places and there are patches where the road turned to mud. The bridges - those two long, narrow passages with steep drop-offs on either side - are the most challenging, as you’d expect. They lost a pack horse and all its gear on one of ’em. But it’s passable. For now.” There was emphasis on the last word.
“It’s not now you’re concerned about,” said Kara.
“No,” admitted Vagrum. “It ain’t. We’ll get in all right and, if the weather holds, we’ll get out the other side in six days or so. They won’t be the most pleasant six days. There ain’t no inns for sleeping and we can’t go far from the road or we’ll end up in a ravine. My concern’s that we could get caught in a squall while we’s up there. If that happens, we’re like as not dead. An’ this is the time o’ the year for ’em. That merchant’s guard said he got double pay for coming on a run this late. This close to Winter, you’re gambling your life on the weather, and that ain’t the best bet.”
“But one we’ll take. We’ve got no choice. We must get to the portal before Sorial, and this is the only way we’re assured to do it.” Alicia spoke quietly. Her word was final. “Unless the weather changes for the worse in the morning, we leave for the pass.”
“The weather’ll be fine in the morning.” Vagrum’s experience on the road made him the best prognosticator of the skies. “After that, I’d say pray to the gods, but they ain’t hearing prayers no more.” He’d never been much of a praying man anyway, preferring to rely on his strong arm and good common sense rather than hoping someone was watching over him. He had always supposed the gods had better things to do than look out for the likes of him.
The big man’s weather forecast was good. They awoke to the first clear morning in over a week, but along with the clear came a noticeable chill. If the skies clouded now, snow would fall instead of rain. And, since it was colder in the pass, wet spots would be icing up. “It ain’t all bad,” remarked Vagrum. “The cold will harden up the mud. We ain’t gonna have to worry about getting stuck in it.” All they had to be concerned with was losing footing on a narrow portion of the trail and slipping over the edge of a cliff. Over the centuries, Widow’s Pass had earned its name.
As they set off on the road headed north, The Broken Crags loomed over them. The ground sloped steeply upward and the horses were laboring after less than an hour, their breaths streaming white clouds. Despite being bundled in a heavy wool cloak, Alicia was shivering. She cast a worried glance at Vagrum, who was in his customary place in the lead, but the big man appeared fine. He had shown signs of improvement during the time spent in The Gateway, but he was by no means back to his usual self. She was concerned about how he would hold up if they had to lead the horses. His stamina flagged quickly.
They were alone on this stretch of the road, which wasn’t a surprise. Most of the inn’s visitors were headed south and it was unlikely anyone would emerge from the pass this early; travelers this close would have pressed on at night to reach The Gateway. In Vagrum’s opinion, they might not encounter another soul in the pass - too few were willing to risk a Winter squall. There came a point when the rewards of succeeding were overbalanced by the price of failing. Having the road to themselves wasn’t all bad, especially in those places where the path constricted to allow only single file passage. If they were being pursued or shadowed, there was no indication of it, but all four were vigilant, constantly scanning the nearby terrain for any indication of others. If someone wanted to track them down, Widow’s Pass, with its lack of hiding places and alternate routes, was the perfect place to do it.
The Broken Crags were thus called because many of the tallest mountains were topped not with clean, symmetrical peaks but with jagged, irregular pinnacles that bespoke some long ago catastrophe. This close, they looked like any imposing mountain range with their crowns hidden from view, but farther to the south where they dominated the northern horizon, Alicia had come to understand the origin of the name.
As they moved into the mountains, the sun disappeared, hidden behind an unyielding wall of rock. “We won’t see direct light for days,” said Vagrum. “It’s too late in the year for the sun to get above the mountains. Out in the world, the days are short and the nights long. It’s worse in the pass and too dangerous to move once dusk begins. At best, we can expect nine hours of travel per day. That’s one reason it’ll take nearly a week to reach the other side. I musta been outta my mind agreeing to make this trip the last week of the year.”
The first two days passed relatively uneventfully, although sleeping was difficult. A small campfire lent a little warmth but, with only dead, stringy scrub to feed it, it never burned heartily enough to be truly beneficial. Sleeping on the cold, unyielding ground, with only a layer of wool between her and the icy rock beneath, Alicia thought she had never been more uncomfortable - a phrase that had regularly come to mind during this journey. They ate dried rations and drank snowmelt, which was abundant even after the recent mini-thaw. The good weather held, which was a boon but, in large part because of the road’s steepness, progress was painfully slow. At least the passage was wide - until the third day.
It was mid-morning when they came to a sudden, dramatic narrowing of the trail. The implacable rock walls to either side remained in place but fissures opened on either side of the road. The horizontal distance between the edge of the path and the mountainside was less than twenty feet on one side and a little more on the other, but the vertical drop was dizzying. The chasms fell away into an abyss of darkness that might have been a mile deep. For as far ahead as they could see, the path was no more than six feet wide, with a surface that was slick from packed refrozen snow and ice. The edges showed signs of crumbling; only the middle four feet represented safe ground.
“They call it ‘the bridge.’ There’s another one just as bad further al
ong. They go from the side of one mountain to the side of another, and there ain’t no way around ’em unless you can fly. When men die in this pass, it’s either here or at the other one.” Vagrum’s words weren’t comforting, nor were they intended to be.
Staring at what awaited them, Rexall asked, “How the hell do they get wagons across?”
“They use special ones - skinny and extra long. During the warm months, traders do a brisk business on both sides of the pass buying regular wagons and selling the ‘Widow Crossers,’ as they’re called, and vice versa. Each sale nets a tidy profit. And there are always plenty of laborers on hand to unload and re-load wagons for a handful of bronze studs. This time of year, any merchant thinking of using the passage had better come prepared with the right kind of wagon. Ain’t no trading past the first snow.”
“How was it built?” asked Alicia. She couldn’t fathom the effort it must have taken to form such a precarious bridge. Whether it was erected or carved, it wasn’t a natural formation.
“An earth wizard,” said Kara. “A thousand years ago, The Crags were impassable to human traffic. Everyone who wanted to move from the North to the South and the other way around had to go through Earlford, where the slope of the land is gentle and forgiving. Then an earth wizard dedicated himself to creating a passage. Widow’s Pass is in large part his handiwork. This bridge was once wider and sturdier but after enduring so much traffic over so many years, it’s begun to show its age. It was meant to be regularly maintained but the removal of magic made that impossible. Unless it’s repaired, it will eventually become unusable and The Crags will again defy human penetration.”
“How far does it go?” asked Alicia, openly gaping.
“Like this? Maybe ten miles. We should be able to make it to the other side before nightfall. One benefit of attempting the crossing at this time of the year is that we ain’t gonna have to worry ’bout encountering a group traveling in the opposite direction. That can create a difficult situation.” Vagrum paused, momentarily lost in thought as if remembering one such “difficult situation.” He continued, “The second bridge is another day’s travel ahead. It passes just east of the tallest Crag. Once beyond that, the trip gets easier and the road begins to slope downward.
“Keep a careful rein on your horses and go slowly. Don’t let them stray too close to the edges and if they slip, don’t panic. There ain’t no reason we shouldn’t be able to make it across. The people who died here were greedy, stupid, or impatient. We ain’t none of those things - or so I hope.” The glance in Rexall’s direction wasn’t coincidental.
The crossing took a little more than six hours and it represented the most harrowing time of Alicia’s young life. She spent the better part of it clutching so tightly to the reins that she developed cramps in her hands. There were no stops; the narrowness of the path didn’t allow for safe dismounting or remounting. When they ate, they did so astride the horses as the animals crawled forward. Fortunately, they were all sure-footed. Only once did a horse slip, and it was a minor incident. Rexall, whose mount it was, remained calm and quickly had the beast under control and again moving forward. The sheen of sweat on his forehead, which froze quickly in the face of a cold, stiff breeze, was the only betrayal of his nerves.
Then, before they reached the far side, it began to snow. At first, there were only small, occasional flakes whipped by the changeable winds, but by the time the path widened and the chasm receded, the snow was falling heavily, blanketing everything and hiding the road’s dangerous imperfections. With darkness descending, they had little choice but to dismount and prepare for a long, unpleasant night. There was no fuel for a fire, so they had to rely on huddling together for body warmth. They brushed the horses, put blankets over the animals’ backs and watered them, then sat in a tight circle, back-to-back and side-to-side under a layer of heavy woolen clothing. They camped in the middle of the road; there seemed little point in moving off it. Even if there were others in the pass, they wouldn’t travel at night. To do so, especially this close to the bridge, was suicide.
In the middle of the night, with snow still falling silently around them and her hands and feet numb from cold, Alicia realized that what she was seeing wasn’t a figment of her mind or an optical illusion. Back the way from which they had come, perhaps on the far side of the bridge, she could discern a distant glow, likely from a fire. Someone else was indeed in Widow’s Pass. She didn’t know whether to be comforted by the thought or alarmed. She considered waking Vagrum and bringing this to his attention, but decided to let the big man sleep. It had taken him a while to drift off and he needed every minute of slumber he could catch. Alicia was becoming increasingly accustomed to getting only a few hours of rest each night. It affected her during the day, making her thoughts sluggish and concentration difficult. The group could survive if she was thus disabled, but they needed Vagrum in the best possible condition.
Their fourth day in the mountains dawned gray, but at least it was no longer snowing. The storm had deposited a half-foot of a powdery substance during the night - enough for mild concern but not alarm. When Alicia mentioned the distant light she had seen during the night, Vagrum nodded grimly. “We can hope they’re fellow travelers.” Something in his voice convinced Alicia he didn’t believe that to be likely. No one at the inn had indicated an intention to enter Widow’s Pass in the foreseeable future. Whoever was behind them hadn’t stopped at The Gateway. And the only ones who refused the inn’s hospitality were those who didn’t want to be noticed.
“If they’re lighting fires at night, they can’t be concerned about us seeing them. Maybe that’s a good sign?” Rexall sounded uncertain.
“It just means they don’t care if we know they’re there. We can’t turn back. We got no choice but to forge ahead. It’s probably more important to them to stay warm than maintain secrecy. I wish we could push the horses more but the road is too damn treacherous, especially with this new snow to hide pitfalls. If we lose a horse, we doom ourselves. I can smell Winter in the air. That storm last night was the first of many. This pass will be closed within a week. We need to press on and get past the other bridge before the next storm comes. Then we’ll have a fighting chance. Truth be told, I’m more worried about the weather than anyone who might be following us. If needs be, I can fight a man but not a storm.”
As the day wore on, Alicia found her awareness becoming muddled, as if she was enveloped in a fog. Her attention wavered; she frequently slumped forward and had to grab the horse’s mane to keep from toppling off its back. She was wracked by alternating bouts of chills and hot flashes. Periods of uncontrollable shivering gave way to sweating, then back to shivering again. She loosened and tightened her cloak to no avail. When they stopped for the mid-day meal, she lacked the will to dismount.
“She’s ill,” pronounced Kara after touching the back of her hand to Alicia’s flushed face. With a start, she realized she was lying on the ground. When had she gotten down from the horse?
“Not just tired?” Rexall sounded concerned. “She ain’t been sleeping much.” Alicia was surprised he was aware of someone other than himself enough to notice.
“No. Her humours are out of synch. The cold and lack of sleep are only making it that much worse. At home, in Vantok, she could probably fight it off easily. Out here...” Kara didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to. Because of her isolated upbringing, Alicia hadn’t been exposed to the wide range of diseases the rest of them had. For the nobility, sicknesses were rare but often serious.
“We’ll travel through the night.” Vagrum’s voice was somber. The proclamation, which put all four of their lives at risk, testified to how grimly he regarded the situation.
Alicia wanted to protest that she was all right, that there was no need to go to such extremes, but when she opened her mouth, no sound came out. She lacked the strength to form the words.
“Tie her to the horse so she doesn’t fall off. Let’s go. When dusk comes, we’ll use la
nterns and move slowly. By dawn, with luck, we’ll be at the second bridge. Then across it before tomorrow night.”
“I have some herbs that will lower the fever and make her more comfortable, but they’ll also make her drowsy. Considering how little sleep she’s been getting, perhaps that’s a good thing.” Kara rummaged in her one of her burlap sacks until she found a pouch containing some dried leaves. “It works best when brewed as a tea, but we don’t have a fire or the time to let it steep properly, so this will have to do.” She opened Alicia’s mouth and placed something dry and bitter on her tongue. Alicia coughed and began to retch but Kara clamped shut her jaw until she swallowed. She was then given a skin from which she took three greedy swallows. The water was cold but did little to wash away the stomach-churning taste.
The rest of the day and night passed like a fevered nightmare for Alicia. She was too dazed to feel terror at what they were attempting - clambering along icy, snow-covered trails where one side or the other frequently dropped off to a thousand feet of nothingness. Once darkness descended, they picked their way along at a snail’s pace. Alicia dozed in the saddle and only the ropes binding her to her horse kept her from tumbling to the ground. Sorial’s face haunted her and sometimes she thought he was one of the company, but when she peered at her companions through the snow, he wasn’t there. Where was he? Was she moving closer to him or farther away? Was he a wizard now, come to save her?
When dawn broke on the fifth day in the mountains, Alicia realized with a shock that they were at the other bridge. This one looked more imposing than the other, with wider chasms on either side of the road and a path that turned and twisted to find the low point between several imposing peaks. After this, she remembered Vagrum had said it was literally all downhill.
The Curse in the Gift (The Last Whisper of the Gods Book 2) Page 6