“We will stay overnight on the mountain,” she said, no question in her voice. So she had already foreseen this.
“Yes. There are some more welcoming spots above us. And we are nearer to the top than to the bottom.”
“That is some comfort. Let us finish the chimney and stay overnight above that mark. Then we finish the ascent tomorrow morning and descend completely to the church by evening.”
This would have been Karl’s suggestion as well. Staying overnight in the sanctuary of the Schwarzsee church, where they had shelter, food, and warm, dry clothes, was far preferable to another night on the windy Hörnli Ridge. If they could manage to drag themselves all down there. “Good,” he said, and stepped out onto the rocky ridge, using his hands to balance against the boulder that sat off to the right.
He didn’t bother reminding her that descent was as strenuous, if not more so than ascent. That on the descent, the snow-covered ridges could make a person think they would slip and fall at any second. That no amount of rope could save them in a rockslide.
The cold was starting to bother even him, so he wondered how the rest of them were doing. He’d always had trouble withcirculation in his fourth toes. Not his smallest toes, but the fourth ones, and they were numb and cold. He would check them tonight for frostbite, though he was certain it had not progressed so far.
The rhythm of his boots kept his pace steady, and before long, they were at Whymper’s chimney. It was covered in snow and ice, meaning there were no handholds or ledges to climb. There was no place to pound in a piton. He would have the most difficult job, using the heavy pickaxe he’d hauled all this way, for this area specifically. The rest of the expedition folded in around him, all of them careful with the ropes in a way that should make any leader proud.
If he could describe this moment, of how it felt, he would say it was tense optimism. As he slung off his pack and retrieved the axe, Fräulein Bridewell took their attention.
“We are making excellent time. However, this section will likely take longer than the previous climbing section.”
“They were all climbing sections,” Justine huffed.
Karl glanced up to see her expression. But he watched her exchange smiles with Frau Moon, and he dismissed it. Her mood was still good. Excellent. A poor outlook definitely affected a climber’s physical ability, and he worried that as the day had worn on, so had their optimism.
“Both Mr. Vogel and I anticipate sleeping on the mountain tonight. While this is not what any of us wanted, we are close to the summit. The plan is to climb until nightfall, and then find what shelter we can. Tomorrow morning, as the sun rises, we will finish our ascent, and then use the rest of the day to descend all the way to the church at Schwarzsee. There, we have shelter, dry clothes, and most importantly, excellent rations.”
Karl closed up his pack and secured it, listening to the contented murmurs that the discussion of warm rations elicited. Hunger was the best spice. He looked up at the narrowing wall ofice. It was wide enough that at the beginning, he would have to trust his axe and the spikes on his shoes. Then he could drop the axe to his belt and use his arms and legs to spider walk the rest of the way up.
He had no idea what Justine would do. Perhaps here was where they would haul her up like cargo. Or maybe she would surprise him again. His chest ached with a cold, sharp spike. It wasn’t the air that made that feeling. No, that was pure Justine Brewer. He had to distance himself from her, that was clear. He was their guide, and no more.
Still, his pride was intact once he managed the wall. At the top, he was relieved to see the piton with the ring secured on the end still anchored into the boulder. One thing to help them today. He threaded the rope through the metal ring and tossed one half down to Fräulein Bridewell below. He pulled on his leather gloves that helped his grip over his woolen ones, and planted his feet as wide as he could against the boulder.
“All is well,” he called down, not sure if that was exactly what he was supposed to say in this moment. But Fräulein Bridewell would undoubtedly know what he meant by it. Moments later, he felt the line go taut and then the tug as her weight loaded onto the rope. He couldn’t see them down below, could only hear the scrape and scuffle of her boots.
The cold seeped into him, surprising him that there was anywhere left that wasn’t already blisteringly cold. This was no doubt some form of insanity to do this. To pursue these heights, to push oneself over and over again. But if he didn’t have this, what did he have?
An expectation that seemed as dreary and monotonous as the Greek man who pushed a boulder up a hill all day, only for it to roll all the way down once again.
**
Justine picked up the buckle that Ophelia had just thrown down. She peered upward again, stealing one last glance of Karl’s boot and brown leather glove. It was all she could see of him from where she stood. Once again, this was going to be impossible for her. The chimney wasn’t a chimney so much as a sheer wall of ice.
She looked at the sides, thinking it might be easier for her to climb up that instead, but they looked equally impossible. Even taking her stockings off again to climb barefooted wouldn’t work, and she really didn’t want to do it again. She was freezing, and being tucked in these shadows was even colder than walking out on the windy ridgeline that they’d trudged up.
She had the spikes on her boots. And she had a single piton in her pack. They all did. She got it out, not entirely sure what she would do, but she would do something. She couldn’t stand the idea of Karl pulling her up like livestock.
In practice, he’d put them all out on a boulder and climbed to the top himself. From his anchor above, he had pulled the rope taut for each of them, and they had practiced walking up a wall as he pulled them. She could do that, of course. But she wanted to impress him.
“What are you planning?” Lord Rascomb asked, his voice dry and gravelly.
She flashed him as much of a smile as she could muster. Her whole body was already tired, just not entirely spent. She had more to give. “Using the piton to anchor my hand and then the spikes on the boots to haul me up.”
He looked at the wall thoughtfully. “I think if you do, it might backfire and cause the whole wall of snow to come tumbling down. Why not just walk up it? You are the lightest of all of us.”
She licked her lips out of habit, immediately regretting it as the cold air seemed almost to stick to her, freezing her further.
“Preserve your strength. We have much longer to go.” Ophelia’s father put his hand on her shoulder, gentling his advice.
She nodded and put the piton back in her pack. “Walk up,” she called to Karl.
“Go,” came the gruff call back.
