“To borrow.” Ey dumps the furs into Sanii’s arms. “These took us a long time to kill and clean, and we’re gonna need them when the worst of the cold hits.”
“It gets worse?” I’m shivering almost constantly despite the warmth exertion pours into my body. “How do you live through that?”
Ey points at the furs as though the answer should’ve been obvious. “With those. And fires. And staying in the house when the storms hit. So, if you want to make it through Nentoado with all your limbs attached and working, you wear these.” Ey’s eyes narrow and ey plants eir hands on eir hips. “But you have to bring them back.”
I place my hand on top of the pile, stroking the incredibly thick, soft furs. “I don’t know how long it’ll be, but I promise we’ll return them.”
“You’d better,” Ahta says as we distribute the furs. “And be careful.”
“As careful as we can be,” Sanii promises, wrapping emself in a hooded fur tunic.
We have too much to do and too far to go to let our path end here.
…
Three hours after we leave Ahta and Dai-Usho, the trees grow farther apart until finally we break free of them entirely and are left facing the first peak of Nentoado.
I come to a dead stop. “What in the name of every hidden horror of Kujuko is that?”
“The reason Ahta gave us those furs. That, my desert-bred child, is snow.” Tsua gestures to the broad expanse of pure white. It’s starkly beautiful, and I wish Yorri were here to see this. Several handfuls of what looks like white sand rise into the air and float toward us at Tsua’s command. “In the mountains where the air is thin and cold, can become so cold it becomes solid. Ice and snow. And when I left here, I never thought I’d see it again.”
Tessen reaches out to the stuff, entranced. But as soon as he touches it he hisses and pulls back. “Blood and rot, that’s cold!”
“I warned you this place would be colder than anything any of you have ever felt. Colder than it can possibly get on Shiara.” Chio surveys the landscape, expression unreadable. “This is one reason no one survives Nentoado. Too much cold; too little shelter. Nonetheless, I’m almost certain this is one of the last places Varan visited before he tested what he’d created on me, and our best chance of finding a way to kill him is somewhere beyond this mountain.”
He falls silent, and after a couple of breaths—which hurt; the air is so cold it burns—Tsua speaks. “You all have abilities that’ll help us survive this, but it’s still a risk for you. Decide now if it’s a risk you’re willing to take.”
I step forward as soon as she stops speaking. The snow crunches under my boots, and without the trees’ protection from the wind, the cold bites harder. Despite the layers of cloth and fur. Tessen and Sanii step into the snow less than a heartbeat after me.
“Bellows, Khya,” Etaro grumbles as ey joins us. “How’d saving your brother turn into this?”
“Seriously,” Rai agrees. “If the Kaisubeh are real, they’re intent on making Khya’s life as complicated as possible. And dragging the rest of us through it, too.”
“You could stay here and guard our retreat.” I make the suggestion without any expectation she’ll take it.
She snorts, but it’s Etaro who says, “You say that like you know where exactly you’ll be breaking out of Nentoado if you need to retreat.”
“Plus, we’ve stuck with you this far, Nyshin-pa.” Rai shivers and then glares at the snow-laden wind. “Not even solid, impossibly cold water is going to convince us to leave you now. It comes close, but…” She shrugs, but doesn’t bother hiding the smile on her face.
“I’m glad you’re here.” I hold out my hand, palm up, and she takes it.
Then Rai tilts her head toward the snow-coated slope. “Help me do something to keep us from dying of the cold, and I’ll be glad you’re here, too.”
“The wind will be easier.” I check with everyone to make sure they’re wearing at least one wardstone, and then I tweak the crystals’ desosa to make sure they protect us against the wind. Keeping us warm will take a bit more work.
The andofume order us to put on every piece of clothing we have, layering them under our borrowed furs. For the first time since we left Shiara, we wrap our heads in the atakafus, this time to protect our skin from cold instead of burning heat, and we raise our hoods over our heads to keep warmth close. Those layers and my wardstones will have to be enough, because cloth alone can’t possibly save us from these temperatures.
Once we set out, it only gets worse.
I never thought a place could be harsher or harder to survive than Shiara. Nentoado proves again how little I know about the world. And I can see now why the Ryogans wouldn’t dare enter these mountains. There’s no paths or trails most places, only sheer cliffs and sharp peaks. The wind is unpredictable, blowing strong enough to displace snow and turn the world white, to push at my wards and nearly throw us off the mountain. My wards protect from the worst of the wind’s buffets, but I can’t keep out the cold. It seeps through my clothes and under my skin until it feels like my bones are slowly turning to ice.
I’m used to aches and pains. How can I not be after a lifetime of training and a year of days-long hunts through the Shiaran desert? This is different. This locks up my joints and makes my limbs heavy. It slows my thoughts and my reactions. It makes me want to lie down in a bank of snow to rest, and it makes it hard to care that, if I give in, I might not wake up again.
At night, without what little heat the weak sunlight offers, we find as much shelter as we can and huddle close together. We sleep in piles, warded from the elements with Rai’s and Nairo’s fire warming the air trapped inside my protections with us. The air dries and cracks our skin wherever it’s exposed. I would probably be bleeding if Zonna didn’t heal the worst of it.
With no way of knowing how long we’ll be traveling these icy, desolate ridges or how often we’ll cross the trail of an animal worth hunting, we ration our food to the bare minimum we need to survive. Water, at least, isn’t a problem. Even though we haven’t crossed a single stream, all we need to do is fill our pot with snow and let Rai melt it.
If we’d come here without magic—especially without our two kasaiji mages—we’d likely have died by the end of the first day. The moment when Rai is so tired and numbly cold that her fire doesn’t spark instantly is terrifying, but I understand. Each hour I keep my wards up makes it harder to keep them as strong as they need to be. The cold and the effort of hauling myself up the mountain and the drain of the constant wards is going to be too much. Soon.
“Either this Kujuko-cursed cold is making me lose my mind,” Tessen says at the end of our second day in the snow, “or we’re getting closer.”
“To what?” I signal for Tyrroh and the andofume so they can hear this. Tyrroh approaches first, his steps slower and shorter than usual, and his expression is pinched, a V forming in the lines carved into his forehead. The andofume look just as exhausted.
Tessen gestures vaguely east, the motion sluggish and his gaze distant. “I’ve got no idea. It’s…it’s more powerful than lightning, but it doesn’t flare like that. Not steady, either. It rolls like—almost like waves.”
“Are we headed in the right direction?” Chio asks.
“The brightest flares seem to be east of here.” Tessen rubs his forehead. “I’m starting to go numb. I don’t… I can’t be sure the cold isn’t interfering with my—” He gestures vaguely and gracelessly, possibly trying to indicate his senses. “If this is real, it feels bright as a bonfire at midnight, and that’s from here. Once we’re within a mile of it, I think even Sanii—even Osshi will be able to feel this.”
Relief rushes through me like warm water. This isn’t for nothing. Something is out there, and we haven’t wasted days.
“Kaisuama is real, then.” Tsua and Chio share a heavy look, and then she smiles ruefully. “We should know by now, nothing is impossible.”
“And legends have more truth
in them than anyone wants to admit.” Chio turns east, his shoulders rising with a deep breath. “At least this time the legends are helping us.”
“Don’t forget what Ahta said about the animal,” I warn.
Tyrroh nods. “What do you think we’ll be facing up there?”
Standing apart from the group, Chio looks east and exhales heavily. “I spent over a century trying to figure out how Varan had pulled off his tricks, and it never crossed my mind that he’d remembered a story about Kaisuama the rest of Ryogo had forgotten and then actually found it. Guessing what he saw when he got there is beyond my imagination.”
“We’ll see for ourselves soon enough,” Tyrroh says, seeming resigned.
But soon could mean anything when we’re following a feeling instead of a map. Soon isn’t soon enough when each foot of ground we gain is a struggle against the ice and snow under our feet, the cold biting at our skin and lungs, and the wind doing everything it can to pound my wards into shards.
The wardstones help me stay focused, giving me something solid to hold on to when I need to be sure everyone is protected. Ever since I created them moons ago, they’ve been useful in ways I never guessed. A spur of the moment decision, and it’s probably saved my life fifteen or twenty times over. It’s still saving my life.
For two days we follow close behind Tessen, heading where he points. Sometimes, Tsua has to raise us past a ridge too smooth and icy to climb, but we try not to use her power more often than necessary. She’ll recover from her exhaustion quicker than we will, but she still gets exhausted, and I’d rather save her strength for when we need it most.
The closer we get, the higher we climb. The stronger the wind. The less shelter we can find. The harder it is to breathe.
I tug the hood of Ahta’s fur tunic down, burrowing into it as much as I can without losing my line of sight and missing a crucial step. My hands stopped feeling cold yesterday. Now there are moments I need to see them to be sure they’re there. Even settling everyone under one ward and letting our kasaijis’ fires warm the air isn’t helping much anymore. Sensation is distant, like it’s happening to someone else and I’m just an observer.
Is this what Tessen feels when he senses the shifts in my emotions? It’s strange. It makes it hard to tell which of my body’s reactions are from the cold, and which are because we’re close enough to the energy source for me to be feeling it, too. I should be able to sense it by now, but I can’t be sure. I’m so cold. Blood and rot, how can I feel anything else when it’s so cold?
We’re huddled under an overhang that’s too narrow to offer much shelter, but it’s enough to give us something to lean against while we try to warm our frozen limbs. Beyond my ward, the wind howls. It screams through the cracks between rocks. Between peaks. It’s loud enough to bury every other sound unless I focus, force myself to concentrate.
“What’s next?” Tyrroh’s voice is hoarse and raw. Frost clings to the stubble that’s grown on his chin, giving him a beard of bright white. Against his dark skin, it makes him look ancient.
“Up.” Tessen waves his hand at an almost sheer cliff. “That’s where we need to go.”
I look up, trembling at the thought of forcing my tired, achingly cold body to climb that. “Has to be an easier way.”
“Maybe, but how long would it take us to find it?” Tyrroh asks. “And how far out of our way will we have to go to get there?”
“Tessen?”
“What?” He blinks at me, confusion deepening the lines around his eyes. “You expect me to somehow know where another path is?”
“I…” Yes, I’d thought that. Maybe I’ve gotten too used to him coming up with solutions or bringing me information he shouldn’t have had. In Itagami, he was so good at eavesdropping on conversations. That’ll only help here if the stones can speak. So instead of asking about another path, I ask about this one. “Anything we need to be wary of on that?”
“Other than falling?” Even as he quips, his gaze roams the surface. Then he takes a long breath and points to three separate sections, the motion listless. “There’s ice. Lots in places. And there’s shadows. Looks like they’re either deep crevices or the mouths of small caves. That’s all I can tell you. All I smell is snow. All I hear is wind.”
And the wind is especially worrying.
I’ve learned how to do theoretically impossible things with my wards. Breaking through someone else’s protections using mine. Melding my magic with something solid. Merging my power with Lo’a’s to create a shield that hides us from sight. None of that prepared me for this trek.
I’ve never held my wards constant for so long. Even with stored power in the wardstones, I’m nearing the end of what I can do. I can’t be sure I can even get us to the top of this cliff.
I also can’t believe Tessen hasn’t called me out yet, forced everyone to hole up in one of the caves we’ve used along the way and ordered me to sleep for twelve hours. He’s been working just as hard for just as long, though. Maybe for once he’s paying more attention to the world than he is to me. Which means I’ve got to make the call myself.
No one will argue if I ask to rest, but it’s not safe here. We’ll have to either retrace our steps, wasting almost another two hours, or continue north, looking for a place to rest ahead of us, which could take five minutes or five days. Neither is a great choice.
Climbing the rock wall now is the most efficient use of our waning time and energy. If I can’t rest, extra food might be enough to power my wards through the climb.
When I ask, Tyrroh offers as much as I can eat. Even knowing Tsua and Etaro will try to catch us if we start to fall, no one wants to face this climb without a windbreak. The food helps; hopefully it’ll be enough.
Then we begin the climb.
Miari helps where she can, going first so she can gouge handholds and footholds in the stone. Etaro and Chio are behind her, and the rest of us are scattered below with Tsua last in the long line. At first, I keep the wards in place around each person, but it’s too much. Even with the wardstones, that takes more focus than I have. And the wardstones have been used too often without ever being refilled. They’re almost as empty as I am.
When resources are limited, sacrifices must be made.
It was a lesson our training master drummed into our heads, one necessary for all nyshin, but especially any who wanted to command one day, and I reluctantly follow the advice. If I can’t hold the individual wards, I won’t. I’ll focus on only one ward to keep the wind’s icy claws from breaking our numb fingers’ tenuous hold on the cliff.
And it’s easier. It’s easier to breathe and climb and focus and feel when I’m only holding one ward instead of fourteen. It’s easier to keep up with Tessen’s pace. It’s easier to calm the quiet panic in the back of my mind that’s been whispering fears of failure ever since I hauled myself up the first foot off the ground. It’s easier to pull myself up the face of the mountain foot after foot. A quarter of the way up. Halfway. Three quarters.
Miari shouts. She falls. She’s falling.
Chio reaches for her. Etaro is the one who catches her, ey’s magic grabbing her out of the air and pulling her back to the rock. And then I see the small black, gray, and white birds pouring out of the cliffside caves.
They swarm and dive, screeching fury. Chio swings his arm, batting a dozen of them out of the air. Three times as many dive past. They plunge toward him with talons extended. Drops of blood fall past my eyes like red snow.
I pull my wards around us like a blanket as Etaro and Tsua shove the birds back, sending them tumbling and squawking.
“Climb!” Tyrroh bellows, fear widening his narrow eyes.
I’ve spent too long jumping at his commands to stop now.
My shaking, aching hands grip tighter. I drag myself up another arm length. And another. Another. But each movement is harder to complete. My grip on the stone is getting as shaky as my hold on my wards.
The birds are still swarming, swo
oping and smashing themselves against my wards. Each strike sends painful rattles through my bones. I have to halt, to hold tighter to the rock. Each blow makes me flinch, almost sends me tumbling backward into open air. It’s too much. I can’t— I can’t hold on and keep the wards up, but if I don’t, the birds get through, attacking someone else and sending them falling, and what if Tsua isn’t quick enough to catch them and—
I’m yanked backward, my hold on everything breaking. Screaming, I try to throw my weight forward, to reach anything solid, to keep from plummeting to the rocks below.
But I’m not falling. I’m flying.
All of us are rising up the last section of the cliff, shooting up arrow-quick and dropping us onto the flat, solid rock at the top. Solid, warm rock.
I hear the thuds of other bodies landing hard on the stone, but I can’t open my eyes.
“Chio? Chio? Zonna, get over here!” Tsua’s voice edges into panic fast.
I open my eyes as Zonna leaps over my head. He slides to a stop beside his parents. “What happened?”
“He won’t open his eyes!” Tsua kneels behind Chio, his head in her lap. “The scratches— The birds— It can’t be infection, but look!”
By the time I force my wards back into place and push to my knees to crawl closer, Zonna is already leaning over his father and placing his hands on Chio’s forehead and chest. “Venom,” he says almost immediately. “It’s in his blood. The rot-ridden birds must’ve had it in their talons.”
“But it shouldn’t— Nothing affects us this way. Nothing’s supposed to…” She touches the scratches and gouges in his face, all of them angry and red. “I’m not supposed to be worrying about you, vanafitia.”
Chio groans in pain. He’s shuddering. Shivering. The longer it lasts, the thinner Zonna’s mouth becomes. The harder he seems to press his hands against his father’s chest. Zonna is an exceptionally strong hishingu. Chio is immortal, same as Varan, who, stories swear, once survived an arrow straight through his eye. No bird should’ve been able to hurt him.
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