What if the trail crumbled again?
A shiver ran through me at the thought, but there wasn't anything I could do about it other than pray, and I was willing to bet that many similar prayers were being silently uttered right now.
As we started moving again, the rope was a lifeline I clung to. The wind tried to snatch Lysara's voice away, but she kept calling out, her words a beacon in the white void.
"Path curves right... Mind the loose scree... Keep to the wall..."
I followed her instructions, focusing on each step and the tension of the rope in my hand. The physical connection to the others helped keep the panic at bay, but every time the wind gusted stronger, I imagined it sweeping us all off the mountain.
As a particularly strong gust of wind made me stumble, Morek steadied me with a hand on my elbow, and I fought the urge to simply freeze in place. Then he did the oddest thing and started singing the lewd ballad that Codric had sung the first night we'd met. A moment later, Codric joined in, and then Shovia added her voice, and soon I could hear it coming from down the line as other quintets picked it up.
Alar didn't sing probably because he didn't know the words, but I did, and I added my voice to the others. If everyone was singing, I shouldn't be the one prude who didn't, right?
"The dragon soars so high,
Its scales gleaming against the sky,
But I'd trade a bond of wing and fury
For a romp of dazzling flurry."
Singing took my mind off the chaos of the storm, giving me something to concentrate on besides the treacherous trail and the deadly drop beside us.
"Left turn coming up," Lysara's voice carried back to us. "Hug the wall. The path narrows."
I pressed myself against the rocky wall, grateful for its solid presence. The snow was falling so heavily now that I couldn't even see Alar clearly, though he was no more than three feet ahead of me.
"Almost there," Lysara called out. "Keep moving."
Time lost meaning in the white void. There was only the next step, the rope in my hands, and the ridiculous lyrics of the ballads we were singing one after the other.
I didn't even see the mouth of the cave until Alar led us inside, and I almost cried with relief to be out of the blizzard. We filed inside in our roped groups, staying connected until we were all under cover.
Unclipping my carabiner, I gratefully sank to the floor.
We'd made it.
I reminded myself that it was too early to celebrate and that I still had to wait until everyone got inside. The group leaders counted everyone to make sure we hadn't lost anyone, but nothing could diminish the sense of relief I felt.
31
ALAR
"The storm tests not just the oak, but the grove that shields it and the earth that feeds it."
—Elurian Proverb
The cave was enormous, its ceiling lost in shadows far above our heads. As our groups huddled around hastily built fires, the warmth from the flames was heavenly after the bitter cold of the blizzard, but I still couldn't feel my toes.
"Everyone, gather round," the head guide called out, his voice echoing off the walls. "I need your attention."
The man's face was weathered, speaking of years spent in these mountains, and there was both authority and kindness in his expression as he waited for the murmuring to die down.
"The storm's severity necessitates that we remain here until it passes. We will spend the night here," his voice boomed, amplified by the echoes bouncing off the walls. "If the storm continues tomorrow, we might be stuck in this cave for another day, and your pilgrimage will last longer. If we are lucky, and it clears out by morning, we will reach the summit, just much later in the day than was planned. The good news is that we have plenty of water here, but the bad news is that your fast will last longer."
As groans and complaints rippled through the assembled pilgrims, my stomach twisted painfully, reminding me that we were already on the second day of our fast.
"What if the storm doesn't clear for days?" someone called out.
