by Jamie Smith
If they came at all.
He didn’t have the strength to argue, and for that Sabira was glad. In silence, she watched him slump lower and lower, between clear bouts of pain.
Eventually, he seemed to find peace enough to rest his eyes and began a sleep just short of a coma. Sabira didn’t know what to do for him, except hope that he could still wake in the morning. Until then, she had to keep him safe.
That left her alone with her mind’s new resident, one she hadn’t really spoken with properly yet. If she was going to be sharing her head with it, that had to change. The shield in front of her supplied an important starting point.
“If we’re going to survive,” she asked, “I need to know your limits.”
Tserah had pushed them too far, and Sabira feared doing the same. The memory of the woman pressed another pang of guilt through her as the frostsliver replied, ON TOP OF YOUR LIMITS?
Those Sabira was already uncomfortably aware of.
AS TO SHAPE, NO. ONLY YOUR IMAGINATION LIMITS ME. OUR BOND HAS OTHER LIMITS, THOUGH. I CAN ONLY EXTEND A CERTAIN DISTANCE. I AM ALSO NOT INVULNERABLE. FIRE IS A DANGER, AMONG OTHER THINGS.
“Is that … It doesn’t sound like it will help that much.”
Had it been too much to hope for a secret power of flight, as she had once imagined as a child?
I HAVE GONE THIS FAR, ABANDONING MY PARTNER FOR LIFE. I WILL NOT END BECAUSE OF YOUR INSECURITIES. TSERAH WOULD FIGHT THROUGH THIS. SO SHOULD YOU.
“Why did you leave her anyway?” Sabira found herself asking, the frostsliver’s cold words building a fire in her. “I’ve never heard of frostslivers jumping between people before.”
I … MOST DON’T.
“It wasn’t to help us—you were afraid, weren’t you?” she guessed. “Afraid to die. You’re supposed to be a piece of the mountain god—or at least one of Aderast’s Tears. How can you be afraid?”
WERE HUMANS SPUN FROM ADERAST’S FROST COCOONS WHEN THE CONTINENT WAS YOUNG?
“Um … huh?”
EXACTLY. I DON’T KNOW WHETHER I’M A TEAR OF ADERAST EITHER. NONE OF US KNOW MORE ABOUT THE WORLD THAN YOU DO. EVEN TSERAH, THE SMARTEST WOMAN I’VE KNOWN, DID NOT KNOW EVERYTHING—AND MAYBE YOU SHOULD REMEMBER THAT YOU DON’T EITHER.
The frostsliver sounded pretty testy, so Sabira let the rest of her questions go for a while. It couldn’t be pleasant for the frostsliver to remember the woman it had lost—the woman that Sabira was not.
In silence she kept up her vigil against the storm.
* * *
Hours passed, though Sabira didn’t know how many. After a while, Sabira found that she could catch a good slice of the mountainside outside the cave if she sat just right, and shifted around in the small space until she could watch.
Then she looked up and thought that her tiredness was playing tricks on her.
Something had changed out there. What was that shape in the haze? She narrowed her eyes, peering closer. A rock? No, she didn’t think that it had been there when they’d charged into the cave. Sabira was just starting to think that she must be mistaken—then it moved.
For a moment, Sabira didn’t believe her eyes. There couldn’t be anything living out in that. Could there? What if that shifting shadow was a person, a rescuer, or another traveler in trouble? A part of her wished it could be Tserah, brought back somehow from Aderast’s embrace. She knew that it couldn’t be, but the thought moved her anyway.
She had the frostsliver release the shield, the better to see whatever was out there, though she could feel a hum of dissent coming through the bond. As soon as it had moved to brace her knee, Sabira got up and peered around the edge of the crevice. There was something, she was sure of it. Not an animal—it was tall, like a person, though Sabira couldn’t make out more than that.
“Hey!” she shouted over the noise of the blizzard, but if the shape heard her, it did not approach. In fact, it seemed to fade, and Sabira feared that she was about to lose sight of it. No. No, she wasn’t going to let that happen. If someone was alive out there, Sabira was not going to let them die because of her cowardice. Her hands tightened into fists as she summoned her courage.
DON’T!
The frostsliver’s voice was like a breaking pane of glass, but Sabira had already ignored the plea and darted into the tornado of white. She sprinted after the shadow.
Was that the shape of a person up ahead? It was impossible to be sure. To Sabira, the dark blot seemed too large to be human, but the storm distorted everything. It felt pointless to yell out, so great was the howl of the wind, though Sabira tried anyway.
“Hey! Stop!”
Sabira heard the frostsliver protesting in her head, but the meaning was lost to her, so intent was she on catching up to the shadow. Then she stumbled and almost lost her footing. By the time she recovered, all sign of the shadow had disappeared.
Sabira recognized the mistake she had made then, and fear began to chew at her. She didn’t know the way back to the cave and Mihnir, and her tracks were obscured. Neither could she see any evidence that she had been chasing anything more than a mirage. Had her mind played a terrible trick on her?
Now she was lost, and if she continued in any direction, she could end up walking into a crevasse. She was lucky that it had not happened already. Sabira turned, peering through the storm, searching for anything familiar.
She stopped suddenly. There was something up ahead, something too big and solid to be a mirage. A horrible sinking feeling filled her stomach.
The shadow let out a sound that no human could produce, something between a roar and a cracking, grinding wail. Sabira turned and ran blindly in the opposite direction, content to never find out what kind of creature had made it. As she pelted away in terror, her mother’s stories of yeti prowling the mountain flashed through her mind.
As she took a moment to look back for the monster that might be pursuing, Sabira’s foot hit something moving. She saw a blur of white before sprawling forward onto all fours. Panicking, she scrabbled around for purchase. Then sense came back to her, and Sabira realized what had happened.
It wasn’t something moving at all, but the rock of the mountain. She must’ve wandered onto the glacier, and now she had fallen off and back onto its bank. She tried to catch her bearings, but everywhere was a curtain of white. For all she knew, she was on the wrong side of the glacier.
If that monster was after her and could find her in this, there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn’t flee to the cave—even if she was walking in the right direction, she might pass right by the place without seeing it.
Sabira crouched low and blundered onward, searching for any kind of shelter. She found a freezing rock about half her height and hunkered down beside it. There couldn’t be more than a few hours left before the dawn. Maybe then she could find her way back more easily. Maybe.
I TOLD YOU NOT TO LEAVE THE CAVE, the frostsliver said icily.
The night passed slowly and in terror. In every snow flurry, Sabira saw shades of things that weren’t there, clutching her furs tightly around her as she shivered, even when the frostsliver covered her torso in a thin, warm shield.
Once, she saw a light from above and thought for a moment that the storm was breaking, that she was finally seeing the sky twinkling down at her, but she was not so lucky.
It wasn’t the stars brightening the night, or the dawn. It was a yellow fire on the mountain high above. That was what it looked like anyway—though from what Mihnir had told her, there shouldn’t have been anyone else alive up there. Whatever the source, it was too far away to reach. Then the blizzard’s white clouds crowded in again, and the light disappeared.
She forced herself to stay awake while the slow, cold torture worked its hooks into her, for Sabira knew that sleep had to be fought off at all costs. It was the road to death, paved with the comfort of oblivion.
On into the night she sat, staring into the abyss.
DAWN CAME, AND with it the light, but t
he blizzard was not done—although it was weaker than it had been in the night.
Sabira’s bones felt locked in place, and the exposed skin of her face was seared by the wind. She fought against her body’s protestations and stood.
At least she had not been eaten by yeti.
NOT YET, the frostsliver helpfully interjected.
In fact, she hadn’t seen another hint of that huge yeti-like shadow. She hoped it hadn’t eaten its fill of packman while she was gone. That horrible thought was enough to get her moving, and Sabira pushed away from her rock.
She looked up at Aderast. The light she had seen last night seemed almost unreal, like part of a dream—but it had been there, hadn’t it?
IF IT WAS A DREAM, I DREAMT IT TOO.
Sabira let the question go for now, and moved off, staying low and moving slowly, keeping one hand trailing along the valley wall so that she couldn’t get lost.
It was lucky she did, for she found that her first instinct was leading her in the wrong direction—back to the steps rather than to Mihnir. When she saw her error, Sabira chose to make use of it, and went all the way there to fetch the supply pack.
The bulky pack had almost been buried by snow, and only barely jutted out. Sabira had to dig it up. When she was finished, collapse seemed very appealing. She couldn’t, though, not here in the still-falling snow, so she began the arduous process of moving the supplies up to the cave.
Choosing to drag the heavy thing instead of attempting to carry it, Sabira spent a good half an hour pulling the cursed bag up the mountainside, all the while worrying about what she would find when she got there. By the time she had almost reached the cave, her exhaustion had caught up with her, and she was sweating beads of salt water that did their best to freeze on her skin.
Upon entering, Sabira’s eyes darted about for any evidence of a struggle, but found none. She crept slowly to the back and saw to her relief that the crevice remained full of the fur-shrouded packman she had left there.
Mihnir had not been eaten by a yeti—but had he survived the night? Sabira feared the worst when she didn’t see any movement from her uncle. Then the mound of furs made a small noise.
“Sabira …”
Thank the mountain. She smiled at him, her frozen features cracking painfully.
“It’s all right,” Sabira said. “I’m here now, and I bring gifts.”
The sight of her hauling the pack into view was enough to get Mihnir to smile weakly too, though Sabira wasn’t going to take his health for granted. After moving around so much last night with internal injuries, her uncle was lucky to be alive.
There was a lot to do, and she began by extracting the healer’s kit from the pack before retrieving the rest of its vital bounty. There were several thick blankets inside. Sabira wrapped Mihnir in most of them before securing another in place over the crevice opening, blocking the worst of the wind.
As she worked, she told Mihnir of everything he’d missed, including the strange light she’d seen on the mountain. When Sabira was done, her uncle allowed himself to slump down even farther, looking relieved.
“I was so worried about you,” he said, “but you’re safe now.”
“Not really,” said Sabira, thinking of where they both still sat.
“No, I suppose not. I wish I could help you. Protect you. I … I’m sorry.” He paused, then added, “I can’t go any farther.”
Sabira couldn’t say anything to that, instead going to the healer’s kit and rooting around inside, tears blurring her eyes. The frostsliver was quiet in her mind, but she was surprised to sense a gentle sympathy through the bond.
The whistling of the wind was dying away. The blizzard had finally blown itself out. It was good news. It should be good news. Sabira’s fingers fell still, unable to find an excuse to continue. There was truth to face. She knew what her uncle was going to say before he said it.
“You’re going to have to leave me—not to get help. I’m done for, but you aren’t.”
“Don’t talk like that,” she pleaded.
He ignored her and continued, “You said you saw fire above. The only place up there is the old monastery. I don’t know why anyone would be there, but that’s your way out of this. It’s the only way. All you have to do is follow the glacier to sanctuary.”
It was a better hope than trying the bonding path. That route would kill her, she felt sure. That wasn’t enough, though. Her chances were poor wherever she was. Mihnir’s were zero if she did what he said.
“I don’t want to leave you,” she said, but something he’d said sparked in her mind. Follow the glacier to sanctuary.
“You know, in the story,” she began slowly, “the First Bonded descended through the mountain and found their way to the glacier’s source. They made it out from the passages beneath and founded Adranna. If they could follow it back through the mountain, so could someone else.”
“Sabira, that’s … a story. A legend. Who knows how much of it is true?”
“Some. It has to be—how could it not be when the frostslivers exist? You’re a Tear of Aderast—tell him!” she said, directing the last question at the frostsliver hanging around her neck.
HE’S RIGHT. GOING INSIDE THE MOUNTAIN WOULD BE VERY DANGEROUS. DEADLY, EVEN.
It wasn’t what Sabira had wanted to hear, but she pressed on.
“Somebody did those things. The First Bonded found the source of the glacier alone. Then there’s the Deep Explorers. They broke Aderast’s Nightmare and saved everyone from its wrath. They all found their way down through the mountain and out, every one of them! It could be the only way to get to Adranna in time to send someone to rescue you. It could be your only chance.”
“I … Sabira. Swear that you won’t do this. The monastery, you’ve got a chance there, but inside the mountain … no one will find you.”
His words chipped at her wall of resolve but did not break through.
“I swear I’ll be safe,” she told him, although she knew she couldn’t keep the promise. Was she really considering this? What was wrong with her?
I WONDER THAT TOO.
No—it had to be done. If the mountain wanted any more of her family, it was going to have to fight her for them.
Mihnir obviously wanted to argue but didn’t seem to have the strength. Discussing it further wasn’t appealing, so instead of dwelling on the plan, Sabira acted on it, breaking down the supply pack with renewed vigor. Even with her hands hard at work, she kept thinking: How was she going to do this alone?
NOT ALONE—BUT YOU HAD BETTER NOT GET ME KILLED.
That was small comfort. Sabira packed in silence, dividing the supplies while Mihnir looked blearily on. Fortunately they had food enough for a few days and more than enough snow to melt and drink if necessary. She made sure to move the most easily digestible food to his pile and the most energy-rich food to hers. They were both going to need it.
After a while, her uncle seemed to realize what she was doing and why. He shook his head and said, “You should take it all.”
She did not stop her sorting.
“Sabira!”
She stopped, looked up, and speared him with determined eyes.
“I’m not leaving you with nothing. I won’t. Our family has lost enough out here,” she said, knowing that nothing he could say would change her mind. Mihnir opened his mouth, but Sabira cut him off.
“There’s no point objecting,” she said, trying to keep tears back. “It’s not like you’re in any shape to stop me.”
Her voice shook as she spoke, though she ended firmly.
Mihnir’s mouth opened and shut a few more times as he searched for an answer. Finally, he nodded in agreement. He even smiled slightly through his pain, in what Sabira thought might be pride.
After separating out supplies for Mihnir, she stuffed a bag with as much as she could reasonably carry, knowing that every extra provision, length of rope, or fire starter might mean the difference between life and death.
>
“If the pain gets bad,” she said, showing him the healer’s kit, “open this and take a little of the fernlike plant with the tiny blue flowers—but no more than a bite every few hours. It should help.”
He smiled weakly and then began to cough. Watching him, Sabira feared the worst, but the fit subsided after a few moments.
“I will take a small dose now, if you don’t mind,” Mihnir added, when he was able. She fed him a small portion of the herb for him to chew, and after a minute he relaxed a little, the pain lifting temporarily.
“Just hang on. Try not to move much—but eat and drink, keep your strength up. I’ll be back with help soon,” Sabira offered quietly.
He nodded, though she wasn’t sure if he was really hearing her, or if the herb was beginning to affect him, for next he said, “They really did make the right choice with you …”
Her uncle’s last words were quieter, for he was already drifting toward uneasy sleep. Sabira wasn’t sure the man knew what he was saying, though it was a comfort all the same.
Getting up, she scooted to the hanging blanket and peeked out. Only a few flakes of snow greeted her, and the barest gust of wind. The storm truly had given in.
WE SHOULD GO.
She turned to Mihnir, his strong body laid low, probably never to rise again. Sabira had hoped to find the right words for their parting, to say something to give her uncle hope that this was not the end, but nothing came.
“Goodbye,” she said softly.
Mihnir stirred, and Sabira’s breath caught—she hadn’t thought he would hear her.
“Be safe—and watch for snow-spines,” he croaked, already half asleep. That same silly joke again, she thought as he closed his eyes. Sabira didn’t say anything. She couldn’t, for fear of the emotion that might spill out. Instead, she just hefted her burdens onto her back and brushed her way past the hanging material to the world outside.
Sabira didn’t look back. She didn’t want to see the man she was abandoning. Her kind, funny uncle whom she was never going to see alive again.