“They’re heading left,” Ziana noted as Lonks and Quilla plodded along in search of their exit key.
“I see others following but veering right,” Dorrin added, watching the different teams as they performed their searches.
It seemed the other commoners weren’t aware of the elites’ advantage and as a result they were walking a different, and ill-advised path. They would quickly learn the error of their ways.
One team plunged from view in the blink of an eye. They were there, then they weren’t, the ground at their feet giving way, sending them tumbling into a deep pit. Whether or not they’d been injured by the fall was unclear as both the hissing of the lavafall impacting the lake as well as the crackling of the ice itself created enough ambient noise to block out any hints of cries for help that might have managed to make their way out of the hole in the ground.
Dorrin saw Ziana’s look and shook his head. “Do not think it. The instinct is admirable, but we do not have the equipment to attempt a rescue. To make the effort will be putting our own lives in jeopardy, and we must not become victims ourselves no matter how much we wish to help.”
“But it’s just sowrong.”
“I am not saying you are incorrect in your observation. But our lives are on the line as well, and we must act accordingly. Do you trust me?”
Ziana didn’t have to think twice. Whatever conflicts the pair had experienced, one thing was certain. She did trust him. He could be a dick at times, sure, but his motives were pure. Survive and win. And that meant his partner needed to be kept in the best possible condition at all times. Her success would lead to his. A true partnership in that regard.
“Yes, I do.”
“Then follow. We must not linger here too long. The cold will take its toll given our limited clothing. We need to find our key and move to a warmer area, and quickly.”
“No argument from me there,” she agreed. “What now?”
“Now we follow, but from a distance. The discomfort of this area will motivate Lonks and Quilla to be as short with their subterfuge as possible. They want to get warm as badly as we do, so they won’t drag this out. And once we see the general location of the checkpoint, we’ll only have to wait until they move on to claim our own key.”
“And then there will be only two to go.”
“Precisely. And once we have those, we simply find an advantageous location and we wait.”
Ziana shivered against the cold but steeled herself for the discomfort surely to come. “Okay. Lead the way.”
Dorrin did precisely that, carefully choosing his path, ensuring solid footing as he moved. This was a risky area, and the frozen ground could easily hide more pitfalls, not to mention other nasty traps. Even trailing the others, this required care and deliberate movement.
On they progressed, slowly following the elites as best they could, careful not to get too close, avoiding them as well as the additional teams that were slowly making their way into thearea. The players were all scattered throughout the caverns, but at least a few of them had decided to also start their search low and work their way up, getting the cold part out of the way first.
Large chunks of ice that looked like some sort of geologic upheaval had shoved them into place blocked their way more often than not, and no one had been provided with any ice climbing gear. It made for particularly treacherous progress.
“Hang on,” Dorrin said, pausing their progress and redirecting.
“What are you doing? They’re going that way.”
“Yes, but this will help.”
He didn’t go into further detail; he just shifted their course toward one of the trees dotting the landscape. It was white with frost, but as they drew closer, she realized he wasn’t interested in the tree, but the barbed vine growing at its base.
She watched as he worked the vine until it finally began to fray. It was tedious, slow going, but eventually, with the help of a rock to scrape it against, he managed to separate several long sections. He then used the rock to whack the tree, pulling free a few long pieces of bark.
“What are you doing?” Ziana wondered.
He carefully lay out the vines and stepped onto one section, placing one of the pieces of bark on top of his boot then tying the vine around his foot. “Making these,” he replied, quickly doing his other foot. “Now you. Step closer.”
She did as he asked, more than a little impressed at his improvised ice spikes.
“You sure those thorns won’t break off?”
“Certain. This type of vine is known for the painful strength of its thorns. They were placed here as a rather difficult obstacle. I have simply repurposed a little for our needs.”
She watched his thick, muscular forearms flex as he worked, his body radiating heat from his efforts as he was tying the spiked vines to her feet. In no time he was done. She took a step.
Solid. Secure. Best of all, no slipping.
