The Whitefire Crossing (21 page)

“You’ll warm up fast once we start walking.” Dev tapped his fingers impatiently on his pack straps.

“I h-h-hope s-so.” Kiran gave up trying to warm his skin and stowed the blanket. The instant Kiran settled his pack on his shoulders, Dev strode off through the sunlit trees. Kiran lagged a careful distance behind, and veered to touch pine trunks. The flicker of
ikilhia
he drew from each tree was but a taste of their dark, ancient lives. His abused body cried out for him to drop his barriers and suck in power in great draughts, but he knew better. Ruslan wouldn’t feel
ikilhia
drawn by touch while he wore the amulet, but only so long as his barriers held firm.

Power...what had Ruslan done, to fuel his spell without access to the forces of Ninavel’s confluence? He might have brought and used
zhivnoi
crystals, warded reservoirs of stored energies...but Kiran recognized that as a foolish hope. Weather spells were challenging and chancy, but they required delicate control more than raw power. With the proper preparations and ritual, Ruslan would only need the
ikilhia
of a single life, perhaps two, to fuel the spell. He’d welcome the chance to kill, both to vent his anger and to intimidate those he intended to question.

He wouldn’t choose Cara, or Jerik, surely. Ruslan would consider their knowledge of the mountains a useful resource. Wouldn’t he? Guilt weighed Kiran’s steps. He stole a glance at Dev, who radiated determination with every stride up the slope.

“I’m sorry,” Kiran blurted.

“For what?” Dev’s expression was wary. “Near falling in the river? No help for that.”

“No, for...for everything. Ruslan coming, and...that you had to leave the convoy.” Kiran remembered the thinly concealed pain in Dev’s voice when he’d shouted at Cara. “When I asked you to help me, I didn’t know it would mean you couldn’t ever work as an outrider again.”

Cynicism gleamed in Dev’s eyes. “Would it have made a difference if you had?” At Kiran’s conflicted silence, he snorted. “I didn’t think so. Spare me the false apologies, then.”

Stung, Kiran protested, “It wasn’t false! You think I don’t know how it feels, to be forced to give up something you love?” Never again to feel the glory of magic coursing through his blood, lifting his soul into light...sometimes he could hardly bear the thought.

Dev shot an odd, slanted glance his way. “You’re talking about magic, I take it.” He frowned. “You mean to hide in Alathia for the rest of your life?” His tone made it clear he didn’t think much of that plan.

“Until I can discover some other means of protection.” For all Ruslan’s volatile temper, he also possessed the cold patience of a nightclaw lizard. Kiran had no illusions he would give up the hunt simply because his quarry had temporarily escaped beyond his reach. But Ruslan would never imagine him capable of giving up magic completely. He’d expect Kiran to hide far from the Council’s seat of power, in hopes of using his magic in secret. Whereas Kiran intended to head straight from Kost to Tamanath, the largest city in Alathia and the stronghold of the Council, where their detection spells were strongest. By staying quiet, anonymous, and never casting so much as a first level spell, he might remain safely hidden from both Ruslan and the Council for years. Time enough, perhaps, to find a different, more permanent solution.

Dev’s face had darkened. “Ruslan holds a grudge that long, does he? Shit! I can’t hang around in Alathia forever, I’ve got important business back in Ninavel!”

“You won’t have to,” Kiran said. “I told you I’d give you the amulet. Wear it while you return to Ninavel, and then once you’re in the city, stay away from Reytani district. Ruslan won’t bother to hunt you if you don’t cross his path. He thinks of untalented men as tools to be used or cast aside, not enemies worthy of attention.”

“What a guy,” Dev said.

“Maybe you won’t have to give up outriding,” Kiran said earnestly. He couldn’t help those back at the convoy, but perhaps he could lessen the price Dev paid. “Once this is all over, you should tell Cara what happened. Say I forced you into helping me. She knows you’ve no defense against magic—surely she’d forgive you. I’ll even write a letter saying as much, if you think it would help.”

“It’s Meldon who’ll make sure I never work again, not Cara.” But the grim set to Dev’s face eased. For the first time since the avalanche, his glance at Kiran was merely thoughtful, rather than edged with wary hostility.

“Not all magic’s outlawed in Alathia, only that not sanctioned by the Council. You’ll need a false identity in Alathia anyway—why not get a forged birth-token to show you’re Alathian-born, and join up with the Council’s crew of mages?”

“The Council doesn’t rely on anything so crude as tokens,” Kiran said. “Alathian mages are taken as children and schooled both in magic and loyalty to the Council. And once each year, adult mages must submit to an examination of their thoughts and memories to prove they’ve held to the Council’s laws.”

“What happens to the ones that fail?”

Kiran shrugged. “The treatise I read said it depends on the severity of the offense. Some are executed, others mind-burned and exiled...”

“Yeah, the Alathians are all heart.” Dev’s scowl returned.

Kiran winced, wishing he’d had the sense not to remind Dev of the harshness of Alathian justice, and retreated into silence. He soon needed all his breath to match Dev’s pace. Climbing out the unrelentingly steep slope of the canyon was far more difficult than the descent had been. His thigh muscles burned and quivered, yet he and Dev still marched through thick trees. He didn’t even want to think about how much farther they had to go.

Sweat dripped from his temples and his breath came in great gasps by the time the trees thinned. The matted pine needles underfoot gave way to polished slabs of angled stone like those Kiran remembered from the opposite side of the canyon. Dark lines streaked the pale rock, and a stream of water slid down one slab in a thin smooth sheet.

Dev called a break. Kiran rubbed his aching muscles while Dev filled the waterskins. Kiran drank eagerly, feeling as if he’d sweated out an entire water jug’s worth of moisture. Dev peered at the sky, a frown line between his brows.

Kiran saw only some high thin clouds, forming streaks and wisps above the western mountains. “Can you tell what Ruslan did?”

“No question something’s building, but it’s too early to tell what kind of storm, and how fast it’ll reach us,” Dev said. “Keep going, and I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

Kiran struggled onward at a pace that felt little more than a crawl. Dev’s progress was made with his usual abundant energy, but in rapid spurts. He would race up the rock, then stand staring at the sky while Kiran puffed his way up the same distance.

By late afternoon, Kiran’s legs trembled with fatigue even though he’d been surreptitiously stealing snippets of
ikilhia
from trees at every opportunity. Finally he had to ask Dev for another break. Dev eyed him for a long moment, then nodded. Kiran collapsed gratefully onto the rock, his chest heaving.

Dev squatted beside him. “Your friend Ruslan doesn’t do things by halves. See that cloud?” He pointed at a long, contoured and strangely smooth cloud that ran the length of the sky. The wispy clouds in the west had spread into a hazy veil over the sun. “Means we’re going to get one hell of a storm. It’s building faster than I’ve ever seen.”

“A thunderstorm?” Kiran blanched. His exhaustion was so deep he doubted he could hold his barriers under a prolonged magical assault like the one he’d endured in Silverlode Canyon.

“If only,” Dev said. “No. Haven’t you felt the temperature dropping?”

Now that Kiran was no longer sweating his way uphill, the air felt much cooler. He’d assumed that was simply a result of gaining altitude. But if the temperatures plunged to the depths they’d reached at Ice Lake, and a storm hit... “You mean, it might snow?”

“Yeah. A lot, and soon, so we need to find shelter quick. Good news is, I know a protected spot up high where we can ride out the storm.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to stay down in the trees?”

Dev shook his head. “Deep snow will be too soft in the trees, where it’s protected from the wind. Pushing through snow like that is exhausting, slow work—it’d take us days to climb out of the canyon. Higher up, the wind’ll freeze the snow crust solid; we can use boot spikes and travel onward once the storm passes. Besides, I figure Ruslan expects us to run for low ground. Then after the storm, all he’d have to do is move up the bottom of Garnet Canyon until he either found us or picked up our trail in the snow.”

“I see.” Kiran steeled himself to ignore the burn of his overtaxed muscles.

“One thing I need to know first...” Dev prodded the overjacket and blanket tied to Kiran’s pack. “Thank Khalmet, your gear’s dried out. But once the storm hits, we’ll need a way to stay warm. Can he detect the magic from a fire stone charm?”

“A magefire should be safe so long as I remain nearby with the amulet,” Kiran said. He glanced across at the opposite wall of the canyon, and promptly wished he hadn’t. Timberline seemed impossibly high above their current position. “How far to this place you’re thinking of?” He dreaded the answer.

“It’s a ways,” Dev said. “But I think we can make it there by dark.”
If you’ll get off your ass and start walking,
was the unspoken sentiment plain on his face.

Kiran stood and suppressed a groan as the weight of the pack settled back on his shoulders. “All right. I’m ready to continue.”

As he took one slow step after another up the gently curving slab of rock, he thought back to the surge of magic that had struck him at the river. To generate a storm so large, Ruslan must have cast a fully channeled spell. That required both a channeler and a focus, and that meant Ruslan wasn’t alone.

Kiran’s stomach twisted. He knew who Ruslan had brought. “Mikail,” he said softly. His mage-brother, his closest friend and confidant, joining Ruslan in the hunt...his heart hurt at the thought, even as new tendrils of fear curled down his spine. Breathing harder, he tried to move faster.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

(Dev)

B
y the time we reached the barren expanse of Bearjaw Cirque, the sky had turned a leaden gray. Snowflakes small as sand grains swirled through the air, and the icy bite of the wind promised much worse to come.

Somewhere along the base of Bearjaw’s southern cliffs, a cave waited. It wasn’t even a true cave, only a spot where a massive chunk of rock had long ago broken away from the cliff and left a deep hollow beneath an overhang. Later rockfalls had piled boulders over the hollow, but a slender gap remained, just wide enough for a man to slide through to reach the enclosed space beyond. Within, we’d be well protected from the wind and snow.

The trick would be finding the cave again. I’d spent a few nights there two summers ago while I chipped carcabon stones from a nearby cliff, but back then I’d approached from the western side of the cirque. Things were bound to look different when coming up from the east. I figured our best bet was to climb straight south to the base of the cliffs and then work our way westward until we reached the cave.

Kiran plodded through the rocks toward me. His face was white and set, exhaustion plain in every slow, dragging step.

I yelled over a gust of wind, “Not far now—the cave’s in those cliffs.” I pointed at the forbidding southern wall of the cirque.

His shoulders slumped. The distance wasn’t that great, only a mile or two, but it was all over talus, some of it steep.

“Rest here a minute,” I told him. “Eat something, and put on everything warm you’ve got. It’s only gonna get colder.”

Kiran sat down without speaking. He gnawed on a piece of jerky like he was almost too tired to chew. I tried to ignore my unease. We were almost there, damn it. He could make it.

Even in the short span of our break, the snow picked up significantly and so did the wind. The flakes remained small, not a good sign. This storm meant business. I sighed and fixed the position of the cliffs firmly in my mind. Between the snow and the lateness of the hour, soon I wouldn’t be able to see them at all. If we got lost, we’d wander through the rocks of the basin until we froze to death.

Thinking of that, I got out one of my short lengths of rope. When Kiran clambered to his feet, I tied one end around his waist and the other around mine. “Keep this on and we won’t lose each other,” I yelled into his ear. If he replied, I didn’t hear it, muffled as his face was in his hood, hat, and scarf. I started walking, holding the rope up behind me to keep it from snagging on rocks.

The snow fell thick and fast, turning the talus into a slick, treacherous obstacle course. The wind whipped icy flakes into my eyes with painful force. I grew steadily more worried about Kiran. He weaved from side to side as he stumbled after me, and he fell often. At first he struggled back to his feet on his own, but as time wore on, I had to haul him up, making my strained side muscles ache and cramp in protest. After about the tenth time of that, I shortened the rope to an armslength and towed him up the talus.

When we reached the cliffs, the world had dimmed to gray, the air choked with blowing snow. Kiran braced his back against the rock and slumped down into a crouch. His eyes were closed, snow frozen on his eyelashes and the ends of his hair. Yelling didn’t budge him, and I resorted to kicks to get him moving again. I dragged him forward, praying desperately to Khalmet that the cave wasn’t far and I would recognize it in the failing light. I began cursing Kiran, the job, Bren, and most of all that damn mage who’d brought on this storm, spitting my words into the howl of the wind.

At last, miracle of Khalmet, a familiar pile of boulders loomed out of the whirl of snow. I untied the rope from my waist, yanked Kiran around in front of me, and by dint of pushing and screaming, got him up to the narrow crack of the opening. The gap was partially blocked with snow and ice. I knocked it clear with one hand and forced Kiran through with the other.

Once inside, the relief was immediate—no more wind, and the ground was dry. The cave was black as a mineshaft, but I’d made sure our fire stones waited at the top of my pack, and I had plenty of practice in lighting a magefire by touch alone. Blue and red flames flared into life and illuminated Kiran, lying curled in a tight ball and shivering violently.