The Book of Terrus: The Wise and Powerful

Chapter 17 - Tale of Tales

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It had been hours since Lhara and Jath had set out from Trosk. In that time, not a single word had passed between them. Lhara led the way along the ridgeline, the strong wind coming up from the south pulling at her plait and the corners of her rough brown cloak. Jath followed a short distance behind, although with every passing half hour he lost about a stride off Lhara's pace. Lhara kept glancing back, expecting the pale Factionist to have finally toppled to one side of the trail. If he were to lose his footing and fall to either side, she doubted she would be able to reach him before he went tumbling all the way down the sheer faces of the mountainside. With that in mind, Lhara slowed her steps just slightly.

The clouds which had threatened rain that morning still hung close overhead, in some places drifting across the ridgeline in foggy tendrils. Every time Lhara stepped through one of these a chill instantly enveloped her, plastering her clothes damply to her skin and making her shiver. The world felt small inside the clouds though, hiding even the nearest of The Teeth from view. Short, sharp cries from nesting golden eagles below on the cliffs reached her ears, even muffled as they were by the fog. No doubt the mothers would happily make a meal for their chicks out of any hapless creature which were to fall and break themselves on the rocks far below.

To Lhara's surprise, Jath never lost his footing, nor complained. He stuck dead center to the middle of the trail, picking his way along the gravely ridge so cautiously Lhara thought he might actually be trying to follow in her exact footsteps. The sound of his labored breathing echoed dully in the fog though, as obvious as if he were right next to her chilly ears. That was why Lhara called a halt long before true sundown. If she were on her own, she would have kept walking long into the night, with or without the moonlight to see by.

They set up a makeshift camp in the elbow between the ridgeline and another mountain's face. The wet stone dripped rivulets of condensed water down alongside them, and so Lhara dug out a hole for their fire as far out from the wall as she could. When the wind nipped at the tender sparks of her first attempts to start a fire, she edged around the hollow to crouch with her back to the wind. There was no wind for kindling this high up in The Teeth, but lichen could be found everywhere. Jath caught on as he watched her piling scraps of lichen torn from nearby rocks together for the fire, and went without asking in search of more.

He did not go far. The dark silhouette of his hooded cloak moved like a shadow through the mist, dipping here and stretching there. When he returned with a good bundle of fungi stripped from its rocky beds, Lhara did not miss the dark shadows beneath his eyes. They were so dramatic, they looked as though the man had smudged his pallid face with ash. Lhara was reminded of the Factionists' and the single dark circles which they had marked their brows with. 'Ash heads' was what Tarun had said the Factionists were called amongst the Gorian army. She hadn't seen any such mark on Jath's face, but a Factionist he was. Lhara imagined she felt bitter about that fact, but it was hard to blame Jath for much when he looked so utterly worn out.

"I brought some food," she offered, settling back on her heels as their infant campfire took hold. "We'll have to forage later on, but for now there's bread and cheese." It was the first she'd spoken in hours, and her voice hung unnaturally in the gloom.

"May I?"

"Unless you brought food of your own...?" When Jath looked away from the question, Lhara pulled a slice of bread and chunk of cheese from her pack and tossed them across the fire to him. "I didn't expect you would have, don't worry about it."

Silence returned as they both sat chewing and swallowing without really tasting anything. The burning lichen spread a thick, acrid scent through the air, quickly dulling even the sharp flavor of argali cheese. They had been walking since before midday, but still Lhara had no appetite and she ate without enthusiasm. Jath meanwhile seemed subtly anxious; his white gaze sought out the jagged peaks of The Teeth where they occasionally managed to tear through the clouds which surrounded them, eyeing them up as a vole would the bared teeth of a fox.