Vivian didn’t think even she could take more.
A few hours of watch at ground level, with hot drinks before and after, stable footing, and walls to block the worst of the wind, came easily within the realm of her blessing. The mountain wind was significantly colder than the storms had been on flat land, she’d been traveling for days on nothing but rations and water with a drop or two of wine, and the snow did horrific things to her footing.
She kept going, naturally. It wasn’t a particularly heroic act: the alternatives were throwing herself off the mountain or sitting down to freeze, which would take about ten times as long as it would for a normal human. Even if she hadn’t been on a mission, she wasn’t nearly so cold that either struck her as a good idea.
Olvir was following along too. Vivian heard his boots crunching on the snow and saw his shape on the few occasions when she took a second to look behind her. Both of them were upright, both moving forward.
Still, it was only a matter of time until that changed. The cold would probably get to Olvir first. Vivian thought she could keep him from taking off all his clothes and crawling into a snowbank, as people often tried to do in the worst stages of freezing, but even that would only do so much good. Alternatively, one of them would take a wrong step when the snow got too treacherous or their own reflexes too blunted.
It was still a long way down.
She was walking blind now. The blizzard hid all but the mountainside itself, making the world into a formless white mass full of screaming. Nobody with sense, or a choice, would try to walk a yard over flat ground in such a storm, much less feel their way along on a ledge the width of their shoulders.
Ulamir had gone silent. Vivian wasn’t sure why and was too preoccupied to wonder, so when she heard his mental voice, it damned nearly startled her off the mountain.
My people lived here once. I can feel their echoes in the rock.
That was good, she thought. When she died, at least he’d be left near familiar territory.
Shelterwill be near, Sentinel Bathari,he snapped.Is near! The entrance is at hand. Get your mind out of your feet and seek it.
Chapter 22
“Caves!” A woman called to him out of the wind. “Near here!”
The figure in front of Olvir turned sideways, put her palms against the mountainside, and began slowly shuffling forward.
Vivian, he thought, putting a name to the shape and the voice. Memory was a stone he had to lift now, heavier with every step. That was a bad sign. Olvir recognized that but didn’t have the strength to worry. All existence was the shape in front of him, the rise of a single foot, then the fall of the other. They got heavier too. The snow sticking to his boots was only a small part of that weight.
“Here!” Vivian called in triumph, cutting through the fog in Olvir’s mind. All the same, he nearly ran into her: his legs were slow getting the message that she’d stopped.
She stood with her chin tilted up, peering at a hole a few feet above her. “You go first.”
Olvir didn’t argue. First of all, he doubted his lips could move. He simply grasped the edge of the opening, the stone sharp in spite of his gloves.Up, he told himself.Up.
On a normal day, entering the passage would have been a trifling effort. Olvir’s arms were shaking before he got his head and shoulders inside. When he finally pulled his whole body up, only the knowledge that Vivian needed to get in behind him kept him from simply flopping onto the stone like a dying fish.
The tunnel rose high above him, glowing with bright colors, but he was only really conscious of the entrance. He turned, reached down, and grabbed Vivian’s upper arms.
Helping her into the hole wasn’t as difficult as Olvir had feared. She was no featherweight, but she was strong and had long ago learned how to move most helpfully in such circumstances. He provided leverage more than anything else and a more comfortable grip than the ledge.
They collapsed together when she’d gotten inside. The storm shrieked only a few inches away. Soon they’d feel the cold again, but right then, they were each content to slump against the wall, their vision slowly clearing until they could take in the details of their shelter.
A series of rings led off down the tunnel. Olvir and Vivian half lay in the first, ten feet or so of milky moonstone that wrapped around them from the smooth floor to the equally smooth ceiling. The ring became pale opal at the inner edge, then a sapphire hue not quite as dark as that in Ulamir’s hilt. After it turned a deeper blue, the tunnel widened to become the entrance of a room.
All the stone glowed from within, not quite as bright as the sun but better than moonlight. The patch of floor against Olvir’s cheek was faintly warm. He stripped off a glove and laid his palm against the wall: it, too, was heated.
“Ulamir says the old enchantments are still here,” Vivian said, a heavy breath between each two or three words. “He had no relations from the enclave that lived here, so the mountain wouldn’t unfold for us, whateverthatmeans, but the magic inside kept going.”
“Defenses?” Olvir managed the wit to ask.
She paused for the answer, then shook her head. “Built in more innocent times. The stonekin, or these stonekin, abandoned it when those times ended. They didn’t consider attackers. Bless them.”
“They have my thanks, wherever they are.”
Olvir dragged himself to his feet, using the wall for balance at first. When Vivian had done the same, they began walking side by side down the tunnel. Moving told his legs that theycouldmove and his spine that it could hold him vertical. Bit by bit, the worst of his exhaustion eased.
Besides, every inch they moved was an inch away from the snow and wind, which was a significant compensation for the effort.
