3. Idrilia #2
I lifted my head. Ice crystals floated in the air like dust motes, catching the auroral light. The trail below was gone. What had been a clear path along the ridge was now buried under a meter of debris, rocks, ice, and compacted snow that steamed faintly in the cold air.
"Jeffson!" I called. My voice came out as a croak.
A cough answered from somewhere below and to the left. Then Jeffson's head emerged from a crevice, followed by the porter he'd sheltered with, both of them coated in white powder.
"Sound off!" Jeffson shouted. "Everyone, sound off!"
Voices came back, one by one. Sorel, shaken but uninjured behind his boulder. Three porters from under the overhang. Kelth, who had been furthest from the debris field and had escaped with nothing worse than a face full of ice.
Then the gaps.
"Denna?" I called. "Palel?"
A moan answered. Palel was half-buried in debris about twenty meters from the trail, and Sorel was already scrambling over to him, his medical pack bouncing on his back.
"Denna?" I called again.
I almost missed the muffled reply.
"She's here," Palel managed to say.
"Thank Elurion." Relief flooded me, and I put a hand over my chest. Denna was alive.
My relief was short-lived, though, because I realized that I hadn't heard Gavon reply yet.
"Gavon!" I called.
The silence stretched, and my chest constricted so hard that it felt like it was going to squeeze the life out of me.
"Gavon!" I yelled louder.
"Here!" Gavon's voice came from below the trail, hoarse but unmistakable. "I'm here. On a ledge."
Relief hit me so hard my vision blurred. "Are you hurt?"
"My ankle. Maybe my wrist. I'm not sure. I can't—" A pause. "I can't see the trail. How far did I fall?"
I scanned the area from my elevated position and spotted him. He was on a narrow shelf a few meters below the trail, pressed against the rock face.
"Five meters or so," I told him. "Don't move. We'll get to you."
"Wasn't planning on going anywhere." Even now, his instinct was to quip. I loved him for it and at the same time wanted to strangle him for not taking anything seriously.
"Horrov?" Jeffson was calling more names now, his voice tight. "Moran? Voser?"
Horrov's voice came from somewhere in the debris field, his words slurred.
Moran didn't answer.
Neither did Voser.
Think! I forced down the panic and concentrated. I was ten meters above the trail. Below me, the expedition was in crisis. At least two people were missing, one was over the edge, one had taken a blow to the head, and the trail itself was buried.
I had to come down and help.
"Jeffson, I'm coming."
"Wait! I'll send someone."
"There's no one to send. Everyone is needed." I secured the specimen case to my pack, checked the chimney below me, and began the descent. My hands were shaking, which made the climbing harder, but I placed each foot carefully and tested each handhold before committing my weight.
When I finally reached what was left of the trail, the scale of the destruction looked even worse than it had from above.
Boulders the size of armoires had been deposited across the path, and it was even harder to breathe down here because the air was thick with ice particles that stung my eyes and coated my lungs with each inhale.
Sorel was kneeling beside Palel, who was conscious but clearly in agony. "Broken collarbone," the medic said without looking up. "Maybe cracked ribs. He needs to be immobilized."
"Do it." I headed to Norel, who was digging at a mound of snow and rock. "Horrov?" I asked.
"I can hear him, Your Highness." Norel's face was pinched with worry and urgency. "He's under here. He's talking to me."
"Keep digging carefully. We shouldn't shift the larger rocks until we know what's supporting what." I dropped to my knees and began clearing debris by hand, working alongside Norel with a focus that pushed everything else to the periphery of my mind.
When we uncovered Horrov, he was thankfully conscious, just hurt and disoriented. One arm was twisted at a wrong angle, and he was covered with bleeding gashes.
After Sorel examined him, he declared that the arm was broken and that he had a possible concussion.
"Moran and Voser," I said. "Has anyone seen them?"
Jeffson shook his head, and the grim expression on his face told me everything I didn't want to hear. "Moran was on the outer edge of the trail when the debris wave hit." He pointed to where the trail had been, now buried and partially collapsed. "He was standing right there."
The implication was clear to all of us. If Moran had been swept off the outer edge of the trail, there was no ledge to catch him on that side. Just a long, steep slope of scree and rock that descended into a gorge.
"And Voser?"
"Behind Moran. They were walking together."
I closed my eyes for one second. Two men. Two men who had families, who had followed me past the boundary because I'd insisted the Silver Princess was worth the risk.
I opened my eyes. "Kelth, take a rope and check the outer edge. See if there's any sign of them on the slope below. Don't go over the edge yourself, just look. Norel, go with him and anchor him."
They moved immediately. Whatever resentment anyone might have felt toward me for pushing past the boundary, it didn't show. In a crisis, rank and blame gave way to the simple imperative of survival.
I turned to Jeffson. "We need to get Gavon off that ledge. He's about five meters below the trail, and his leg may be broken."
"I'll need rope and at least two people to haul him up." He turned to Stevan and Jorris. "You are with me."
When it was all done, and all the injured had been attended to, the impact of the final count devastated me.
Moran and Voser were gone. Kelth found no trace of them on the slope. They had been carried over the edge and down into the gorge. Even if they had survived the initial fall, which was unlikely given the distance, no one could reach them.
Gavon had a broken ankle and a badly sprained wrist. He was pale with pain but still tried to joke about the scene being too dramatic for his script, while Sorel bandaged his ankle, binding it tightly enough to immobilize the joint and wrapping his wrist more gently.
Palel's collarbone was set and bound. Horrov's arm was splinted, his head wound cleaned and bandaged. Three others had sustained lesser injuries, mostly cuts and bruises.