Chapter 38 Kailin
KAILIN
Death on the mountain isn't rare, but it never becomes easier to accept. I pray to Elu that the dragonia was able to save the five pilgrims swept away by the avalanche, but I brace for bad news.
—From the journal of Kailin Strom
The wind died down to an eerie whisper, as if the mountain itself was holding its breath. Our five trudged up the trail, the rope connecting us feeling much less secure now that I had seen how ineffective it was against the power of the mountain.
"They were saved," Shovia said, but her voice lacked conviction. "The dragonia reached them in time."
I wanted to believe her. The image of the copper-scaled dragon diving through the clouds replayed in my mind, her powerful form breaking through the storm clouds like an arrow loosed from Elu's bow.
My heart had soared with hope, and I had cheered along with the others when she'd emerged with the quintet, but now that I had time to process what I had seen, I doubted that all five had been alive when she'd picked them up.
I'm not sure how long we'd been shuffling our feet up the trail with a silent melancholy draped over us like a dark cloud.
I was so numb emotionally that I didn't even register the gnawing hunger or the blisters on my feet.
But then the first pair of medics appeared, coming down the trail carrying a stretcher.
I held my breath as we plastered ourselves against the mountainside to make room for them, waiting to see the extent of injuries the person on that stretcher had sustained. My heart sank when I saw that the body was entirely covered with a thin sheet, the kind that was used to cover the dead.
"Drak," Shovia cursed under her breath.
Beside me, Morek made a choking sound in his throat.
Alar and Codric remained silent.
The medics' grim expressions should have prepared me for what I was about to see, but hope was a hard thing to kill, even when it defied reason.
When a second pair of medics made their way down the path, I already knew that they weren't carrying a survivor.
We all waited with bated breath for the rest of the victims to be carried down the mountain in a similar fashion, but no more came down.
The survivors must have been taken to the summit, which was closer than the bottom of the mountain.
I just worried that there was no proper medical facility up there.
They might have a small clinic, but could they reset bones and fashion casts?
No one spoke as the grim procession passed.
"They must have hit the rocks," someone whispered after the medics had passed. "The way the avalanche threw them..."
"Don't," Morek cut in sharply. "Show some respect."
But the whispers continued, because that was what humans did when faced with tragedy: we tried to make sense of it, to understand the mechanics of death as if that might somehow make it less terrifying.
"The two who died must have hit their heads," another voice suggested. "At least it was quick."
I pressed my face against the cold rock, trying to block out the conversations. All I could think about was how close we'd come to losing Shovia and Codric during the trail collapse. If Morek hadn't caught them...
"We need to keep going," Lysara's voice carried back to us.
The avalanche had weakened the entire slope, and more slides were possible, but we had no choice but to keep going up.
I tugged at my carabiner, the familiar motion helping to center me. The hemp rope was slightly frayed where the carabiner rubbed against it, but it remained strong and would hold securely regardless. The problem was its limited utility.
There were so many different ways for us to die out here.
"Ready?" Shovia asked. "Let's go." She started walking without waiting for an answer.
Slowly, our line began to move forward.
The path was the same as it had been before, mostly so narrow that it allowed only a single file, which was fine since we were all tethered in a line. However, at places, it widened enough for groups to sit down and take a break while others passed by.
Nothing had actually changed, but fear had a way of distorting perception almost as much as the altitude-induced hallucinations.
"Look," Codric said. "Above us."
I lifted my gaze to the sky, where dragons circled overhead, their large shapes dark against the aurora-lit sky, but they were probably of many different colors.
Were they watching for signs of further avalanche danger?
Their presence should have been reassuring, but all I could think about was how even they hadn't been able to save everyone.
"Magnificent," Morek murmured behind me. "I can't wait to ride on one's back."
I rolled my eyes, but I refrained from reminding him that his chances of becoming a rider were almost nonexistent.
It suddenly occurred to me that the idea of riding a dragon no longer terrified me or at least not as powerfully as before. After all that I had witnessed on this mountain, life seemed so precarious, and death lurked everywhere.
In a way, I had become numb to fear.
"I knew them," someone said behind us. "I knew all five. They were from my village. We came on the pilgrimage together, but I don't know which ones survived and which ones died."
The words hung in the thin air like ice crystals, poignant and sharp. More whispers followed—bits of information about the five people, memories shared in hushed voices that carried in the silence nonetheless.
"They were childhood friends..."
"Their families..."
I tried not to listen, but the words worked their way into my consciousness anyway. These weren't just anonymous victims. They were people with dreams and hopes, just like the rest of us.
"The storm's picking up again," Shovia said. "Can you smell it?"
I didn't, but I believed her.
The wind carried ice crystals that stung, and the auroras seemed to pulse with renewed intensity. The mountain was hinting that it wasn't done with us and that our survival wasn't guaranteed just because we'd already witnessed tragedy.
"I doubt we will reach the summit before dark," Morek said. "We've lost a lot of time, and we are going slow."
"I think we can make it," Alar said. "Assuming that we keep up the same pace from now on."
That was a lot to assume.
Assuming we maintained this pace.
Assuming that there were no more avalanches.
Assuming that the mountain's appetite for lives had been satisfied for the day.
The mountain had many ways of testing us. Some tests required courage, while others demanded endurance. But perhaps the most challenging test was continuing after watching people die.