14. Buried Paths #5
Kalemon groaned, dragging a hand down her weathered face. "We'll regret this. Probably die screaming."
But Allora had already tugged her mule off the road, following the stranger into the tangled deer path. Snow-laden branches whipped past her hood as she forced the beast forward, Kalemon cursing loud behind her as she followed.
The hoofbeats of the Silver Fox's warband pounded closer, echoing through the trees like drums of war. Like inevitability given sound.
The path was narrow, no more than a game trail worn by deer and wolves, invisible to an untrained eye. It sloped east, weaving toward the shadow of a snowy peak that loomed against the darkening sky.
Kalemon leaned forward, muttering low so only Allora could hear. "This is how we get kidnapped and eaten by Awyans who wear fancy cloaks."
Allora kept her eyes forward, breath steaming against her scarf. Each breath felt harder to draw than the last. "They think too highly of themselves to touch a Canariae that way."
"That's what you said about the Silver Fox, and look how that turned out."
Up ahead, the cloaked figure reined in her horse with impossible grace, raising a gloved hand.
Her hood turned just enough for her voice to carry back, calm as still water.
"There. Between those peaks. The pass leads to a hidden town, but it closes by the end of winter.
If we want to use it, we'll need to seal it behind us so they cannot follow. "
Kalemon bristled, her voice clipped. " You want to trap us in a mountain pass? Are you out of your mind?"
The figure tilted her head, the gold-thread constellations on her cloak catching the pale light. "Always," she said calmly with a slight quirk of a knowing smile on her face. "But it's gotten me this far in life."
But Allora wasn't listening. Not to the strange mysterious Awyan, woman in a familiar cloak, not to the wind that hit her skin with a bite and not to the pounding hooves that grew ever closer.
Her gaze had caught a small and delicate presence hovering inches from her face. A dragonfly. Frost-white, its translucent wings glittered in zigzags of light. It darted, circled her head once, then landed neatly on the stranger's shoulder.
Allora's breath faltered. The message was clear. This stranger, whoever or whatever she was, was trusted by the same force that kept her alive.
"We have to follow," she whispered, voice firm despite her trembling lips and the cold sweat sliding down her spine.
Kalemon opened her mouth to argue, but the sound of hooves cut her short. Louder now. Close enough that she could hear the jingle of tack, the shouts of soldiers coordinating their search.
"Fuck," Kalemon spat. She kicked her mule hard, then smacked Allora's beast on the flank to drive it forward. "If we die because of some mysterious bitch in a sparkly cloak, I'm haunting your ass in the afterlife."
Snow sprayed beneath them as they galloped toward the looming peaks.
The stranger surged ahead, cloak snapping like a banner in the wind.
She glanced back once, her voice carrying easily.
"The Silver Fox is using your tether to track you.
To shake him, you'll need distance, more than you think possible. Keep silent until I say otherwise."
Kalemon's jaw pulled tight. Allora clung to the reins, her vision blurring, her stomach rolling with exhaustion. Her pulse rattled against her ribs.
And then a sound that froze them all.
A growl. Low, inhuman. A quarter mile down the trail, from the clearing below.
Followed by a roar that shook the air.
"Allora!"
Her name cracked through the valley like a blade splitting stone. Snow shivered loose from the peaks, cascading in faint veils as though the mountains themselves trembled at his voice.
Allora turned.
Through the break in the trees, she saw them. The militia spilling from the forest into the clearing, their banners snapping in the storm wind. And at their head, him.
The Silver Fox.
Even from here she could feel his gaze. Burning. Claiming her from across the distance.
Her breath stuttered.
Then she forced her mule forward, head low, scarf high. Kalemon pressed hard behind her, the stranger in blue cutting the path ahead.
And still, his voice echoed up the mountain, chasing her like a curse.
They were almost to the far side of the pass when the echo of hooves carried up the stone walls. Malec's troops had reached the entrance. Their shouts reverberated through the narrow gorge, a storm of steel and fury at their backs.
The stranger pulled her horse to a sudden halt, turning in the saddle. Her hood shadowed most of her face, but Allora saw it, clear as firelight. A smile. Not fear, or dread. But exhilaration. As though this chaos was the very thing she lived for.
"Move! Now!" she shouted.
Kalemon and Allora kicked hard, the mules lunging forward, hooves slipping on patches of ice as they scrambled up the higher slope. Breath plumed in frantic bursts. The stranger's voice carried after them.
"Ride! Don't stop!"
They obeyed without hesitation, the path twisting as it climbed.
Behind them, the figure's hand lifted. A pale glow ignited in her palm, growing until it was blinding against the gray sky. Light blue, shimmering and pulsing like captured lightning. The orb coalesced, then surged from her hand, cutting through the frigid air with a hiss.
It struck high on the cliffside, just below a heavy overhang of snow and jagged ice. The glow flared brighter. Then came the crack.
The mountain groaned.
And the avalanche began.
The snow moved with its own terrible will, rushing down in a thundering sheet of white, devouring stone, tree, and sound alike.
It roared with a force that made the earth tremble, a tidal wave of frozen fury tearing loose from the mountainside.
Kalemon looked back just long enough to see the soldiers scatter, their discipline breaking in an instant.
Horses reared, panicked, thrashing against their riders' hands as the first wave crashed down.
Below, Malec's hand shot up, pale light erupting from his palm in a blinding arc.
The shield materialized in an instant, a shimmering dome of white-blue magic that encased him and his riders.
The avalanche slammed against it with the force of a collapsing mountain, snow and ice exploding around the barrier in violent waves.
The sound was deafening, but the shield held, pulsing with each impact as tons of snow crashed harmlessly against its surface.
The entrance vanished beneath a wall of ice and snow. Shouts turned to screams, then to nothing at all.
Allora clung to her saddle, her heart slamming against her ribs. The air itself turned to frost and powder, choking her lungs, blinding her eyes.
She couldn't hear Malec.
The roar of the avalanche swallowed everything, a white wall of obliteration sealing the pass behind them. The stranger wheeled her horse around, her cloak billowing as she assessed her work with clinical detachment.
"That should put some real distance between you and The Commander," she called out over the fading rumble.
Allora's hands were shaking so badly she could barely hold the reins. Relief and terror warred in her chest. The tether inside her pulled, stretched thin and aching, but it was quiet now. Muffled beneath tons of snow and ice.
Kalemon guided her mule closer, reaching out to steady Allora's trembling frame. "Breathe, kiddo. You're safe for now."
But Allora shook her head, dark eyes wide and glassy with shock. "He was right there. He was so close." Her voice cracked. "I could feel him reaching for me through the bond."
The stranger urged her horse forward, her tone brisk and businesslike. "The avalanche will slow him, but it won't deter him. The Silver Fox doesn't surrender prey once he's caught the scent. We need to keep moving while we have the advantage."
She paused, then added, her voice softening in a way that might have passed for sympathy, "He'll dig through that mountain with his bare hands if he has to. But by the time he does, you'll be long gone."