by MK Schiller
“Maiden Shina, how could I forget?”
“The story was true. They say the Goddess who lives on the mountain is jealous, especially of lovers. I don’t think we should draw her attention.” She shut her eyes. “Not that we’re lovers.”
“No, we’re not.”
“We have today though, and this.”
“I promise I’ll be a gentleman.” He took her hand. “May I have the honor of your company, milady?”
“Why do you call me ‘milady’?”
“Because it means noblewoman. And you, Farah Nawaz, are the noblest woman I know.”
She didn’t believe his answer, but it was so romantic and sweet she didn’t question him further. “Where are you going to take me?”
“You let me worry about that. I’ll pick you up at your tent around sixteen hundred hours. Be ready to go.”
“But I have nothing to wear.”
He laughed now, the sound rumbling out of him. “You’ll figure it out.”
True to his word, he arrived outside her tent at exactly the time promised. Deciding it was a wasted effort to make herself presentable, she put on a warm knit cap. She unzipped her tent. God help her if he didn’t stand so tall and sure and beautiful. He took her hand.
“I made us soup,” he said.
“That’s my favorite.” She held up a small bag. “I brought pistachios.”
“Perfect.” He gazed down on her snowsuit as if she wore the most dazzling gown. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Farah Nawaz, I believe you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
“That’s a lovely thing to say, but it might have something to do with the high altitude and the fact I’m the only woman you’ve seen in the last forty days.”
“Doesn’t matter. The words are true.” He held his arm out for her.
She took it. Even though there was a chill in the air, a powerful heat stirred within her. It could go no further than holding hands. Even then they would have their gloves on, but there was something so intimate about the moment. For the first time, she shed her inhibitions and allowed herself to get swept up under his intense gaze.
He’d arranged his sleeping mat next to a fire. They sat. The pungent aroma of juniper hung heavy in the air. He poured them steaming mugs of soup. They shared slices of freeze-dried apple.
“The view is amazing,” she said, gesturing to the snow-peaked caps around them. She took a bite.
“It is,” he said, looking straight at her, his expression lusty. He grabbed her wrist and ate the rest of the apple in her hand in one bite.
She almost choked.
“Are you all right?”
“No,” she said. “This is how you do a first date? Are you trying to kill me?”
“Sorry.” He shook his head. “Too strong?”
“Any stronger, and you’ll end up on the Richter scale. Do you woo every girl this way?”
His lips curved into an amused smile. “Woo?”
She crossed her arms. “I said ‘woo.’ Get over it. Now tell me.”
He laughed. “I’ve never wooed anyone.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Farah, I swear, you’re the only girl I’ve ever tried to woo. So please forgive me if I do something wrong. Or if I come off cheesy.”
“I would not call you cheesy.” He was far too good at this. He could break through every chain she put around her heart with a single word, a stare, a careless caress.
He reached into his pocket. “I got you something. Hold out your hand.”
She removed her glove and held out her hand. He deposited a shiny, round pebble on her palm.
She stared at it, turning it over in her hand. “A rock?”
“Not just a rock, sweetheart. I picked it out myself. Just for you.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “Normal would have been to get you flowers. That’s probably the right thing to do. I wanted you to have flowers. But in my defense, it’s pretty barren around here and most florists don’t deliver. The only live thing is the prickly vines that grow on the edges of the glacier. I wanted better for you than a prickly vine. So I found the best rock I could. I even shined it up. In the end, I figure it’s better than flowers. Flowers die.” He placed the pad of his finger over the pebble and moved it around her palm. “This will last. It will be a reminder that you were here. That I was here. The two of us held hands on top of the world. We had this one day. This magic memory. It will live in my heart forever, just like this rock.”
She choked back a sob. “You’re really going to have to work extra hard to make me hate you after this.”
“I snore.”
“You don’t. I’ve slept next to you, remember?”
“I’ll think of something. I have a lot of faults.”
She shook her head. “It’s okay, I already know one bad thing about you. I’ve worked it out for myself.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re a liar. You told me you weren’t a poet. Obviously, you are.”
“You must be my muse.”
He’d wooed her.
Without a second glance, she stepped across the imaginary boundary she’d set for them.
Chapter 16
They never told anyone of the Specter of Brocken. It was their secret. The day of normal had made things better in many ways. It had changed things too. Their feelings ran deeper now. They could not go back to avoiding each other.
The whole group had learned to live on the ice. To walk on it, scale it, make water from it, and sleep on it. The whole day had been spent hiking, the rhythmic puncturing of hard snow with their crampons and poles making the only sound. They all wore goggles to prevent ice blindness. Being this close to the sun created its own perils. Edelweiss seemed quicker in his steps and relied less on the oxygen, as if burying his relative had released a dormant strain of energy within him.
Farah on the other hand was exhausted. She climbed into her tent ready to sleep for ten bloody days. Sometimes she thought of what it would mean to have more days of normal with Tristan Sinclair. Even in the most rugged and isolated environment, he managed to be a gentleman. She found herself feeling inside the lining of her pocket where the stone he’d given her lay.
Today, she and Tristan were setting the last of the ice screws. It was supposed to be her and Edelweiss, but Tristan insisted on taking his place, claiming he had more experience. Edelweiss didn’t put up an argument. Farah had a feeling Tristan was carving out more time for them to be together. She was grateful for it. Every moment she got to spend with this beautiful man was a precious gift.
Tomorrow, they were going to attempt the summit, the very last one-thousand feet of their journey to the top of the world. The weather, except for that intense windstorm a few weeks back, had been kind to them. She prayed it would hold out so they could secure the summit. It had to be done in one day. A solid four hours of climbing uphill and then descending back to camp, all in a day’s time. There was no place to camp that far up, and the temperatures would plummet so low a man could turn into a block of ice just by sitting idle.
She craned her neck back, taking in the sight of what lay ahead. She adjusted her helmet, making sure it was secure. The sharp granite pyramid cut through the clouds. They were at a slope, their ice axes providing one point of contact and the crampons on their boots securing the other. He swung his axe into the ice, easing in at first, testing the integrity of the structure with the adze. Once he was satisfied, he’d take one of the twenty-one-inch screws and spin it around until the teeth bit into the solid mass of ice. A climber needed to become intimate with the ice. If the screw spun too easily, it meant there was too much air. He had to find areas in the ice with the right amount of friction. The work was both dangerous and precarious. If he struck into rotten ice, he could lose his grip and fall from the dangerous angle. If his ax
e hit the wrong way, a chunk of rock could come loose and hit one of them.
Below him, she performed the same ritual, careful to vary her screws so they would not be linear to his. If the ice cracked, the fracture would follow any easy patterns and cause them both to tumble. She normally lost herself in the tedious work. But today, she kept looking up to check on him.
Seeing him above her like that, she understood Ahmed’s fear.
Her feelings for Tristan made the task more difficult. When she met his eyes, he was already staring at her. They were checking on each other constantly, reassuring themselves the other was safe. It prolonged the job.
Wasn’t this the danger Ahmed had warned of? With the adventure of the conquest, she was always prepared. She understood the risks and accepted the possible consequences. Somehow, the risks had just grown exponentially without her permission.
But Ahmed was wrong too.
If anything, knowing someone she cared for so deeply was depending on her made her more cautious.
She hummed to herself, something that helped to ease the chaotic thoughts drifting carelessly in her head. She was surprised when he added the lyrics, his baritone voice echoing through the icy canyon.
“You know the song.”
“‘Landslide’? Yeah, it’s one of my favorites. But it’s probably not the most appropriate song right now.”
“When have we ever been appropriate, Sinclair?”
“You make a point.”
She continued to hum, the sound of their ice axes acting as background music. She focused on her task. When she finished, she tilted her head up. He was already looking down at her. “Do you think we’re safe?” he asked.
Not in the least, she wanted to say. There was nothing safe about Tristan and her.
Except he was referring to the ice screws.
“Let’s see.” She dug her feet into the ice until she felt a solid hold. Then she leaned back, testing the rope. “It’s solid.”
Tristan climbed backward until they were even. He turned around, leaned back into the snow, and removed his gloves. He adjusted his helmet. He checked hers too. “Just making sure it’s secure.”
“It is.”
The work had taken its toll. They were both exhausted and all her muscles ached.
“Thirsty?” he asked.
She nodded. He uncapped his drink bottle and passed it to her.
“You ready to kiss the sky, milady?” Tristan asked.
Her heart pounded so hard she checked the horizon for signs of an avalanche. He must have felt it too because he leaned in just a fraction.
“Kiss the sky?” she asked.
“When we summit, we’ll be kissing the sky.”
“I’ve never heard that expression.” It occurred to her she had never even kissed him. She could count the number of times their bare skin had touched without using all her fingers on one hand.
“My brother, Drew, used to say it all the time.”
“Does the sky kiss back?” she asked, passing him back the thermos.
He took a long sip and wiped his mouth. “If you’re lucky.”
“You never talk about your brother.”
“I guess I don’t.”
“What happened to him?” Back in Concordia, Ahmed had told her about Drew.
“This isn’t the right time.”
Of all the intimate things they shared, he still sheltered parts of himself. She saw turbulence and pain in his emerald eyes. “It might help you. It’s not just our packs that weigh us down.”
He inspected the rope next to her and lowered himself another yard. “Who says I need help?”
“I think you carry more than your fair share, Sinclair.”
He shook his head. “We’re all carrying the right weight for our size.”
She kicked down with her crampons until they were face to face again. “I don’t mean on your back.” She placed her palm over his heart. “I mean right here.”
His cynical laugh took her by surprise. “That’s rich. I know what you meant. Just let it go, okay?”
“The tattoo on your arm. It’s an arm band of mourning. The roman numerals are the date he died.”
“You’re quite the detective, Nawaz.”
“You’re doing this for him, aren’t you? Why?”
“You’re a hypocrite, you know that?” he said, not taking his eyes off the rope.
If they weren’t in this precarious position, perched at a 45-degree angle, she might have stomped off in a huff. But right now, storming off wasn’t an option. They had to work together and track each other’s movements to come down safely. This was quite possibly the worse time for an intense conversation. “What do you mean?”
He titled her chin so she was facing him. “Where did you go that night, sweetheart? Tell me about the fig tree.”
“I told you already.”
“I don’t think so. I haven’t mentioned it. We never talk about it. I never push. You went somewhere in your head though. For a few frantic minutes, I thought you’d stay there forever. I have a feeling it was very dark and cold there.”
“Tristan, stop it.”
“Sure, I’ll stop. Because we can do all the pretending we want, but we can only go so far with each other, right? We are never going to be normal, you and I. But I have been careful with you, haven’t I? Can you extend the same courtesy to me?”
“I’m sorry I intruded.”
They continued to work. He lifted his hands and double-checked all their screws. She followed after him, doing the same, tugging on each anchor to make sure it was secure. Once their feet reached the ground, he yanked off his helmet and dragged a hand across his hair. “Let’s head back.”
She nodded. “Tristan, are you okay?”
“Fine.”
They walked several steps. Then he kicked at the snow and let out a harsh sigh. “I don’t want to tell you because it will give you a real reason to hate me.”
She placed her palm on his face. “I can never hate you. Not even a little. Trust me, I’ve given it my level best. It’s an impossible task.”
Tristan was quiet for so long she thought the conversation might be over. “Drew was a dreamer more than a climber. We both got the bug early.” Tristan laughed, almost to himself. “We cheered for Ed Viesturs to become the first American to climb all fourteen eight-thousand-meter peaks as much as we rooted for our Panthers. We were such nerds.”
“You root for panthers?”
He looked perplexed, until understanding flickered across his face. “The Panthers are football,” he explained. “American football.”
“I see.” She could imagine him then as a young boy, his hair a little too long for convention with a streak of mischief in his emerald green eyes and the kind of smile that could thaw a glacier.
“Our father wanted us to go into the family business.”
“What business?”
“He’s an attorney turned politician. Talk about dangerous work. But neither of us could sit still long enough to fill out an application, let along run a business. Hell, a life of bureaucracy and red tape? We’d die a slow, painful death. We were restless by anyone’s standards and even reckless according to some. All I know is life called to us in an atypical way. A call most people would disconnect.
“So Drew and I made a pact when he was ten and I was twelve that we’d climb K2. We had this oath, you see. We swore on all fourteen eight-thousanders by naming them off. Drew knew them better than me. I’d stumble on the names. Last year was supposed to be our year, but a journalist wanted to trek with me on Everest. The exposure would create positive publicity for my business. I backed out of K2 at the last minute. Somewhere down the line, I forgot why I climbed. The passion that used to make me feel alive became a business. Drew tried to convince me. He argued with me like crazy
. We’d made all the arrangements and gotten the permits. Hell, we’d been planning it since we were kids. Somehow, even doing something I loved made me greedy. Drew called me out on it. We got into a big fight over it. I told him we weren’t kids anymore. I hung up on him, Farah.
“He wasn’t good enough for this climb. He didn’t have the experience. We both knew that. I was supposed to come here with him. He made it a little farther than where we’re standing. They ran out of supplies before they got to the top. He didn’t die on the mountain though. He made it down. He had an aneurysm three days later. Isn’t that fucked up? He survived the Savage Mountain only to die a normal death. The elevation probably triggered it.”
She wrapped her arms around him. “I’m sorry, Tristan. You may not have been there, but he knew how much you loved him.”
“Did he? I’m not sure. When I spoke to him on the phone, I could tell something was wrong. He wasn’t coherent. I should have recognized the signs. Signs I’m paid to recognize. If I had made him go to the hospital in Islamabad, they could have treated it. But I didn’t. He got some treatment in Askole, but I think it made it worse. He made me promise I’d climb K2 with him the next time. He said if we went together, we’d summit for sure. He started to name the eight-thousanders. This time he couldn’t finish. I’ve replayed that conversation a million times. It was only nine minutes long, but there were so many clues I missed. How was I so stupid? I’ve seen what happens to men when their brain swells. A doctor could have relieved the pressure and saved him. Hell, even a shot of dex might have helped him. He would still be alive if I had thought of those things.”
“You couldn’t save him whether you were here or not.”
“That’s a question that’s above both our pay grades, wouldn’t you say?”
“Don’t put it on yourself. We all know the risks. No matter how much you think you know, you can’t predict what never happened. There are no winners in a game of what ifs.”
“My mother begged me to go with him, and I refused. She’s gone now, too. I sat at her bedside for the last few months while her body deteriorated and she mourned over Drew. She never said, but she blamed me. I didn’t kill him, but I sure as hell had an ample opportunity to save him.”