OURCRAGSTALKERPAUSESat the edge of the Prism Glacier, sniffs the opal ice. Since leaving Talini last night, we’ve made fair progress. The Desolate Peaks are behind us. But we’ll have to slow our pace to safely cross the ice. Gingerly, the cat stretches out a paw. The frozen surface groans under its weight. I hold my breath, waiting for a sickening crack.
Mercifully, it doesn’t come.
No matter how I shift my hips, sharp vertebrae dig into the tops of my thighs. But I’m glad of the cragstalker’s sleek warmth beneath me now the snow is falling again, gladder still for the press of Leilani’s body against my back, the brace of her arms about my waist.
Now we’ve ground to a complete halt, I dare a glance at her over my shoulder.
She’s distracted again, eyes skimming the mountains like she’s expecting someone – something – to appear. What secrets is she still keeping? She’s more skittish than ever since that visit to the Starshrine. I thought divulging the sceptre’s location would relieve some of the burden from her shoulders, but the opposite seems true. I should have accompanied her myself. Didn’t I promise Orthriel to keep a close eye on her now she’s Shadow-Marked? I let hurt pride get in the way of duty again, was frustrated when she didn’t immediately accept my apology in that cave.
My attention turns to the rest of our sorry party. Serafine coasts overhead; Blayze sits astride the second cragstalker along with Maris; Delphine and Tansy ride the third; the fourth is loaded down with our heavier supplies; and Briar is bringing up the rear.
I don’t want to tarry. I want to cross this Sister-blooded glacier and face the mountain. I want this to be over. For the Outrealmers to return home to tend their own lands.
I still hope Leilani and I can rebuild ours – together.
Our binding was never supposed to be a love match, but my feelings for Leilani grow warmer with each new dawnrise. I think –hope– her prejudice against me is thawing too. I felt a spark in that cave, and these mountains are living proof that flowers can bloom in the most barren soil. Who knows how our union could flourish, given time, and driven by a common purpose.
But we can’t rush our crossing. Not if we hope to make it to the other side. I can hardly see through the twirling snow. If these flurries get much thicker, we’ll have to wait for the blizzard to pass before we can even attempt it.
I crane my neck, gazing up at the jagged peak of the Astral Mountain. It’s even more daunting up close. I shake myself. Climbing the mountain is a problem for tomorrow. For now, we just have to cross the frozen river without the ice sheet cracking beneath us.
I offer a prayer to the Dawn Sister. A simple request.
Don’t let the glacier swallow us.
I turn back to Leilani. ‘I’m going to fetch the ropes, start binding the cats together. If this snow gets thicker and one falls through the ice, at least the others can drag them out.’
I dismount. She moves to follow me, but I place a hand on her arm. This terrain is treacherous, I don’t want her coming to any harm.
‘Why don’t you check our route across the ice again? Blayze can help with the ropes. We need strong knots.’
She cocks her head to one side. ‘Is that a compliment for the Clanschief?’
I laugh, but even to my ears, it’s unconvincing. My opinion of Blayze has improved since Galtair, but my gut roils at the idea that Leilani wants me to think well of him. My hollow attempt at a laugh turns to a spluttering cough. I’ve sucked in too much of the tainted mountain air. That’s a lesson we all learnt quickly: shallow breaths at this altitude, and preferably through your nose if you don’t want to hack up a lung. The tincture only helps so much.
‘Merely tossing him a bone, Princess,’ I say with a shrug, once I can speak again. ‘Might as well put that muscle to good use.’ I start searching our saddlebag, pulling out the ropes we retrieved from an abandoned mill in Talini, then cross behind to the cragstalker carrying Blayze.
‘We should create a chain, as planned.’
Blayze nods, dismounts. ‘I’ll take the front; you do the rear.’
I start to protest, to tell him I’ll manage my own cat, but he’s already tramping across the snow towards Leilani, rope in hand, head scanning left and right. He’s as twitchy, as restless, as she is. For a moment I wonder if there’s something between them. Is this the cause of their shared agitation? The suspicions I’ve long held at bay run rampant through my imagination. I fight the sour writhe of jealousy crushing my chest, remembering the way Blayze raced to Leilani’s rescue when she was thrown from her horse, how he scooped her up after the avalanche, spoke so warmly in her defence during our hunt, then volunteered to accompany her to the Starshrine. I shake myself. No. Blayze is still wrapped up in Maris, and Leilani wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Despite that jibe I made for the Arx Magnum’s benefit back in Galtair about her mooning after the Clanschief, Leilani would never turn blood-traitor.
I tighten my grip on my own length of rope and stride towards the cragstalker carrying Delphine and Tansy, start to lash it to the one carrying our supplies.
By the time we’ve finished, and I’m seated once more with Leilani’s arms snug about my waist, the snow is falling more thickly, but visibility is not yet so poor we can’t attempt our crossing. With a soft pat on its neck, I coax our cat forwards.
It moves at a crawl, testing each step on the ice. With each creak, my breath catches and I search for cracks, my muscles tense and bristling. In the distance, wolf-howls whip through the mountains, their doleful whine raising the hairs on my arms.
The groans and creaks underfoot take on an eerie, melodic quality, reminding me of the tales the Queen told of this place, of its singing ice, and the wailing mist-maids trapped beneath – one of several shadow creatures sent through the Veil to find and slay the Dawn Sister. According to the Book of Starlore, the Dawn Sister froze the Opaline River, forming this approximation of a glacier, when the creatures pursued her into Estelia. Though the night-birds escaped, she succeeded in snaring the mist-maids. And their lament, their pleas to be released from their frozen prison, became the song of the ice.
This piece of lore always felt more like myth than creed, but out here, listening to the whine of the ice, it’s easier to believe it could be true – that mist-maids might still lie buried beneath our feet, waiting for their chance to break free, or to drag us down into the icy depths alongside them.
We inch closer to the Astral Mountain, and I fall under the spell of the whiskered frozen arches that span the glacier, the kaleidoscope of marbled pastels gliding beneath me, the fields of frost flowers blossoming from the ice. I start to loosen my death-grip on the cragstalker’s fur.
Howling rises behind us.
The cat stiffens. I whip my head around. Frostfangs are streaking from the pine thickets, barrelling towards the glacier. Is it the same pack that caught our scent outside Talini?
