I wasn’t far up before Edan shouted, “Remember not to get the shoes wet! There’s snow when you get higher!”
“I know!” I yelled back. Then I continued my ascent. It wasn’t long before Edan was too far below me for us to continue shouting at each other. That was when the loneliness set in, and the worry. Edan was weaker than he let on. I hated leaving him, especially so soon after I’d thought he’d died fighting Vachir’s men.
But the window for collecting moonlight was narrow—I’d have to wait a month for another full moon. I had no choice but to go on.
Rain clouds drifted toward me, but they were still far away. My concern was the snow. Patches of it coated the peak, and snowmelt dribbled down the rock. The thin rivulets sparkled in the sunlight, deceptively beautiful. But I knew better. Getting any part of my shoes wet would counteract their enchantment. My heart stopped every time I made the mistake of looking down, and I imagined stepping into the water, slipping, and falling to my death.
Fear of falling kept me attentive, even as I climbed for hours—almost all day. My palms became raw from clutching the picks, my nails blackened, and my back sore. But I was starting to see how this was the trial of the mind, not the body.
The higher I rose, the colder and icier it became. Choosing my route to the peak became a series of calculated gambles. Should I go around that glistening patch of ice, or did I dare step over it? Was that a shadow on the rock, or a stripe of snow? Grappling with the fear that every next step could be my last made my head spin and my breath come short.
Stay calm, I reminded myself as a blast of wind tore at me.Stay tough.
I trained my tailor’s eyes on the mountain, focusing on the light and colors to avoid ice and snow.
This isn’t so different from sewing, I said to myself.Pretend you’re a needle stitching up the mountain, trying to find the way to make a perfect seam. One wrong stitch, and the fabric of the mountain will be torn.
Sometimes finding the way is tricky, but you always do. As long as you don’t give up.
My courage swelling, I moved doggedly. One hold after another. While I searched for the next, I leaned against the rock, digging my picks as deep as I could. I’d been gripping them so tightly, their wooden ridges had imprinted themselves on my palms.
Eventually, the sun began to set. I left one pick jammed in a fissure and reached into my pocket for my tinderbox. Carefully, I lit the lantern hanging from my belt.
I was at the Rainmaker’s overhang when I felt Edan’s wings rippling behind me. A gust of wind followed, breezing through my hair and lifting my spirits.
I shouldn’t have let him distract me. It was dark now, and in my hurry to reach the peak, I didn’t watch where I was climbing. Just as I pulled one pick from the rock, my left shoe grazed a patch of ice. Panic shot through my nerves; my heart jumped madly in my chest. I tried desperately to regain my balance. But the shoe wouldn’t hold anymore.
I screamed.
My lantern plummeted, leaving me in darkness. I held on to my right pick, left arm flailing as my shoe slipped uselessly against rock. As I dangled from the precipice, I could feel the muscles in my arm tearing, my grip on the pick slipping. The seconds collided into what felt like an eternity.
Wind roared in my ears.I’m going to fall. I’m going to fail.
No. Not here. Not now.
I slammed my left pick into a crevice and slowly, trying to keep my fragile control, pulled myself up.
Only after I hauled myself onto the summit and rolled away from the edge of the precipice did I dare exhale, the vapor of my breath dispersing into the cold air. Then I lay on my back, panting, looking up at the moon, my arms throbbing like they were about to fall off. I’d never been this close to the sky—close enough to feel the power of its light humming in my bones.
Edan was perched on a rock, chirping and whistling as he did in his human form. I rose and lifted one tired arm, beckoning him to approach me.
His wings lifted, and he swooped onto my shoulder. Together, we walked, exploring the summit of Rainmaker’s Peak. It was quiet here. Even the wind was gentler than it had been on the ascent. The moon was enormous. It hung in the night, a massive round lantern, its watery light so bright I almost reached out to touch it.
Edan flew off toward the shadow of the overhang. I followed him, mindful of my footing. Veins of ice snaked across the rocky summit, so brittle they crunched under my shoes. All was still but for the flap of Edan’s wings—and the rattle of grit and tiny pebbles cascading down. My ears perked. Where was that sound coming from?
I broke from Edan and trailed the falling debris to the north side of the summit, watching the pebbles spill into a rocky opening just wider than my hips.
“I found a cave!” I shouted, beckoning Edan to me. I crouched to begin lowering myself. Its mouth was narrow, so I inched inside slowly. I had the unnerving feeling that I was entering some great beast’s jaws. Toothlike stalactites pricked me, and dripping water kissed the top of my head.
Bats fluttered, their wings beating so powerfully I staggered forward.
Edan bit my hair and pulled back hard.
I froze. Let out a sharp breath. Moonlight filtering through the ceiling cracks revealed a silvery carpet of ice. One more step forward and I would have fallen through the ice into the pool beneath it.
I peered down. A city of crystal glimmered beneath the ice, illuminated by slivers of moonlight.
You’ll have to swim for the moonlight, Edan had told me when he handed me the second walnut.And carry this with you, he added, also giving me the walnut now filled with sunlight. Its shell glowed ever so slightly, a warm, bright bulb of light.
