Once down, he concentrated on taking care of equipment. The others crowded around the body of the viscount. Lord Rascomb’s pack had carried the medical supplies, as he was located in the middle of their team. His pack was alreadyemptied, and no doubt they were tending to him, all better prepared medically than he.
But Karl had to figure out not how to care for the man, but how to transport him. If this were open snow fields, he could use all of their extra clothing to create a sled, and they could guide him down. But they’d used the ridge to get them up. How would they manage him on the ridge?
This was the type of problem he hadn’t wanted to consider. It would be painstaking and slow, but his plan was the only option.
“How is he?” Karl asked, stepping towards them.
They’d spread out their extra clothing, quickly stitching them together to create an insulating layer between the man and the ground. What Karl saw was the beginning of a sled, or perhaps a sling.
Frau Moon moved away to make room for him. And when he saw the injury, his mouth went dry. He sunk to his knees. The blood was slowly leaching from his temple, slowed by the freezing temperatures. But the injury might prove fatal.
“It’s not just there,” Justine said quietly. “There’s also one on the back of his head. We’ve already bound it.”
Everyone was quiet, awaiting instruction. He waited for Fräulein Bridewell, but her face was drawn, her eyes distant. This was her expedition. And this was her father.
“We need to go,” Justine said quietly.
Karl stood up. “We need to move carefully more than we need to move quickly.” As he tried to make eye contact with everyone, he realized how dark it had gotten. Descending in the dark would be treacherous. Slow. Another way for a million things to go wrong.
“Every single one of us will be a part of this. We have to. Weight distribution amongst this many should not be a problem. We will create a rotation, just as we have an order of climbing.”
He scanned them again, mentally pairing them by height. It might not be the best idea, since it would pair him and Tristan, which would mean the majority of strength would be there at one time. Not a good idea. “It doesn’t matter what order, other than we maintain it. Four people on him at all times, two people per side. As we traverse down, the top moves to the bottom, and we shuffle Rascomb down this way.”
“That’s going to take too long,” Tristan objected.
Karl zeroed in on him. “Do you have a better idea?”
Tristan opened his mouth and closed it several times before he shook his head. Karl was grateful that there were no tears, no sobbing. Everyone was in control.
“We must remain focused. We cannot afford a misstep.”
“I’ll start here at the shoulders,” Justine said, staking her claim. Fräulein Bridewell stood opposite her, nodding her head, but not speaking.
“I’ll take feet,” Tristan said, standing next to his sister.
Frau Bridewell moved opposite her husband. “I’m here.”
Karl nodded to Frau Moon, who nodded back, her face pale and expression grave. Karl tidied up the lord’s pack, tucking the unused items into his own pack and handing the empty one to Tristan, asking him to stuff it into his.
“Then let us begin.” Karl motioned Frau Moon to take her position next to Tristan, and Karl took his next to Frau Bridewell.
They passed the body forward to Karl and Frau Moon, with Fräulein Bridewell and Justine letting go of the viscount’s shoulders as they were passed to Frau Bridewell and Tristan. Fortunately, whoever had done the hasty stitching of the barrier had made the fabric tight enough that the man’s head didn’t fall back, but was rather still supported.
Karl had the man’s thighs, and passed the body on to Justine, moving then to holding shoulders. Frau Bridewell andTristan scurried to the feet. It was excruciating. But they were moving. Down and down they went, slow step by slow step. Down the rocky formations. More than once they had to stop and readjust and reinforce the sling they’d made under him.
Instead of taking the ridgeline all the way down, Karl took a risk and moved them off to the eastern face of the mountain, at least for a little while. It was dangerous, but what choice did he have? The sunset was almost over. At least once in the snow field, they were able to pad out the sled and slide him down.
Fatigue and despair showed on all their faces. But it was dark now, and they needed to return to the ridge. How were they going to traverse the narrow crest? It wasn’t big enough for the width of two people on either side of a body. Let alone having people go around each other to continue the train they made. The only thing he could think of was suspending the sling, and tying it between him and Tristan, around their waists.
“Halt, please,” he said. The group stopped, and it was dark enough that when they turned their faces toward him, he couldn’t make out their features. He explained his idea, and thankfully Frau Bridewell knew precisely what to do. She asked for all the rope they had that weren’t their main tether.
In what seemed to be a short time, she’d created a webbing to lay the viscount on, complete with tie-in. Her knot structures were inventive and included ties that he was unfamiliar with. But on each end of the webbing was enough length for Karl to tie the webbing to his tether line around his waist. He shifted the rope so that he faced away from the man’s feet. The women lifted the body, and Tristan tied in on the other side.
Karl had wanted to make sure Tristan would be able to watch over his father.
“You may choose to go in front, to get down to the church quicker,” Karl said over his shoulder.
“I’m not leaving my father,” Fräulein Bridewell said.
