Eve of Enlightenment

Chapter 38

Our reprieve in the valley is short-lived. Now that our goal is in sight, Kari is all the more determined to reach it. She makes us feel guilty for doubting her with sharp, well-placed jabs. For the most part, these are taken with the grace of a people mortally thankful to be proven wrong. To my eyes, though, she seems equally relieved.

We camp at the base of the mountain overnight and rise early. As soon as the sun breaks over the horizon, we begin our hike. The air thins as we ascend, and the scorching heat of the day abates. Here, among the trees and the jagged cavities, the wind is not nearly the adversary it was in the open plains.

Rather than risk the steep slopes, Wart lords his newfound ability to fly by swooping and performing easy acrobatics over our heads while we struggle with our footing. Kari teaches us how to make spikes for our shoes to help us maintain our precarious purchase on the terrain. Agan's hawk scouts ahead of us. Whatever she learns, she keeps to herself.

Progress seems slow, but, every time I look down, my head swims with fear. I decide to focus on the task ahead of me. It is all I can do to keep going.

Still, I feel that we are being watched.

The farther we get up the mountain, the more treacherous the incline. We are forced to break often to Kari's dismay. These heights are dizzying, and those of us who are unaccustomed to it find ourselves panting for air at the slightest obstacle.

The first time I see snow, I think I am imagining it. Slowly, we rebundle in the clothes we abandoned in our trek across the plains. My hands are so numbed by the cold that they seem foreign to me. Even though I can no longer feel them, I continue to climb, and they continue to grasp. I put my trust in these small miracles.

Mab's doe struggles the most with this hike, but it seems that each hurdle makes her fiercer and more determined. This fragile town girl has taken her travails and turned them to grit. I am amazed at how far she has come, the adaptations she has made to survive. She no longer looks like the same person.

Each time Gia stumbles, I flinch, worried for her long and slender legs, but Mab prevents us from intervening. She tries each step, clearing away loose rocks and testing for footholds, before leading the animal through them. I am certain she would carry her beloved doe up the mountain herself if she could.

We fall naturally into a line with those more comfortable climbers at the front. Mab insists that we do not linger to help, though I find myself frequently glancing over my shoulder after her, overcoming my fear of heights in my worry. Teak slackens his pace to ensure that she is not entirely alone, no doubt relieved for the excuse.

Kari leads the way, driving spikes into the mountainside, but Köv and I are close behind her. Agan, lithe and nimble, moves without apparent effort. More than once, I lose my footing as rocks crumble under my weight, and Köv's strong hand reaches out to steady me.

Those at the back hardly have a chance to rest, the party striking out again soon after they rejoin us. If not for her indomitable will, I think we would have lost Mab long ago. With every fall, she grinds her teeth and gets back up again. Slowly, I let go of my fear for her: a girl with such ferocity can do anything.

We settle for the night with heavy hands and bright expectations. From here, we can literally look back on the torturous plains like a small and distant memory. I almost convince myself that I can see Sunia, a beautiful, green dot on the horizon.

After nightfall, clouds shroud us in a drifting mist. Our clothes grow damp and freezing. Wart has taken to sleeping directly inside the fire. I never cease to marvel at his oddities, but it has saved us from having to post a guard overnight. As long as we leave him stocked with kindling, he keeps our warmth alive with his sleeping breath.

I rise with a full bladder and make for the thinning tree line. Between the dark and the fog, it is all but impossible to see. I walk until I feel rough bark beneath my fingers and relieve myself. It isn't until I attempt to return that I feel it. That fateful crumbling.

This time there is no one to catch me.

This time it isn't just the shifting of rocks underfoot.

I fall—seemingly into the earth—and land with a sickening crack. I don't feel it at first. Then the not feeling frightens me. My hand has gone completely numb. I panic and cradle my wrist until the pain sets in like a million stabbing knives. I scream into the echoing void, but I am too far, too deep for anyone to hear.

My voice is hoarse, and I fear all is lost when a light appears in the crevice from which I have fallen. At first, it is too distant to decipher, and I realize the length of my drop, realize how lucky I am to have survived it. The light, as it grows closer, is distinctly dragon-like. Wart has come to my rescue, still warm and glowing from the coals. He is too small to carry me, but his presence is a comfort.

I lie awake in panic and pain until the sun rises, and I can just make out the pink sky. A beautiful sunrise. The others will notice that I am missing. They will come find me. Won't they?

I yell for what must be hours but no one comes. How would they even know where to start? What would they do if they found me? Eventually, reality asserts itself. I have to find a way out of this myself.