Chapter 15
Melelea
“Melelea,” I hear a gentle voice grumble in my ear, “wake up.”
I stir, my back against something hard and immovable.
I’m sitting up and a little disoriented for a moment before I realize where I am.
Atop Wodred’s warbeast, on our way to the Whitbron Mountains.
We traveled through the dark of the night, almost flying over the countryside at our speed.
I was tired, though, and must have fallen asleep at some point on our journey. We aren’t moving now, however.
“Wodred?” I murmur. “What is it? Why have we stopped?”
“We’re here,” the orc replies simply.
My eyes fly open, and I’m greeted with the sight of the frozen peaks of the Whitbron Mountains looming up in front of us.
The early light of sunrise paints the glistening snow with purples and golds, deceptively beautiful.
There is already a nip in the air, even though we’re at the base, and I am grateful for the heat charm that I wear, tucked under my cloak.
It will only get colder the higher we climb.
“I’m sorry to wake you,” Wodred says, “but we all need to be alert as we begin the climb. It snowed last night, and there’s no knowing how deep the drifts are.”
“I can use wayfinding to take us on the safest path,” I offer. “I haven’t done it in a while, but it uses the same magic as scrying, just in a different way.”
“What do you need?” asks Wodred, and my heart warms. He never questions my abilities or aptitude; he is just there to support. It is something I have not often experienced in my life, and it makes him special.
“A dowsing rod,” I tell him. “It’s a stick with two prongs leading into one.”
“Any stick will do?” he asks.
“Any that has the right look. It doesn’t matter what type of wood,” I confirm.
“What’s going on?” asks Gunag, coming up from behind us. “Why have we stopped? We should push forward.”
“We need to find a dowsing rod,” Wodred tells the younger orc. He quickly explains my idea of wayfinding and what they are looking for. “Taking the right path could be the difference between life and death on a mountain covered with this much snow.”
Gunag grunts, obviously displeased at the delay, but Dame Zera swings down from the saddle behind him.
“I’ll find one,” the knight says. “There should be one in these trees around us, I’m sure.”
Gunag sighs. “I suppose the faster we find one, the faster we will be on our way.” Then he swings down from his saddle himself and walks after Dame Zera toward the forest.
After a few minutes, Dame Zera jogs back, holding a neatly trimmed dowsing rod. “Will this work? I cut it down from that yew tree back there.”
I bite my lip. I know I said that it doesn’t matter what kind of wood the rod was made from, but yew trees are poisonous and their wood can be treacherous when used in spells.
It could work for me, but it could also fight me at the worst possible moment.
I’m about to say that we should find another one, when Gunag stomps back to his warbeast, swinging back up into the saddle.
“Are we done with this nonsense, yet?”
“Gunag,” Wodred warns sharply, but it’s too late. My heart shrinks under Gunag’s words. They remind me for a moment of Guruk and his constant mockery of my abilities.
“This rod will be fine,” I say, swallowing my concerns. I reach out to take the rod from Dame Zera, who nods smartly as I take it and then heads back to Gunag’s warbeast. The orc reaches out a helping hand to the knight, but she ignores him and pulls herself up behind him in the saddle.
“All right,” Wodred says. “We’ll begin the climb. Gunag, you, and Dame Zera will take up the rear, so that Lady Melelea can lead us on the safe path. Stay close as any deviation with this snow, you could walk off a cliff without knowing it.”
“Fine,” Gunag says dismissively. “Let’s be off. We have a demon to slay.”
???
THE WAY UP the mountain is as treacherous as we were warned it would be.
The snow pack is so deep that it brushes the bottoms of our feet on the top of Wodred’s warbeast as it wades through the drifts.
To make matters worse, after an hour of ascending, snow begins to fall, gently at first, then growing into a fierce storm.
I can barely see in front of the warbeast and my hands, outside of the warmth of the cloak and charm grow frigid holding the dowsing rod out, but I’m even more glad that we took the time to find one, as the blizzard makes seeing where we are going impossible.
The gentle tugs of the rod as I channel wayfinding magic into it are the only things keeping us on the barely discernible path.
As we get higher up the mountain, the snow and wind chill become biting, the heat charm barely keeping the cold at bay.
Without the charm, the freezing temperatures would kill someone very quickly on these slopes.
The storm gets worse with every passing moment, the flakes of snow like sharp little shards of ice stabbing at my face and hands.
My strength is flagging, and I’ve never had to scry for so long without rest. The only things keeping me going are the fact that I know we’ll die if we stop and the fact that Wodred is at my back.
He sits with quiet strength behind me, his arm around my waist, anchoring me in the saddle.
But my arms are shaking with cold and fatigue, the wayfinding taking more and more out of me. The tip of the dowsing rod dips, and I feel a frisson of fear run down my spine. If I can’t find our way through the storm, we’re doomed.
Suddenly, Wodred’s hands are there, sliding under my flagging arms, supporting my limbs with his own.
“Keep going, Melelea,” he rumbles in my ear. “The storm cannot last forever.”
I almost want to weep with the difficulty it takes to keep my arms up, even with his help, but I know that I must, no matter what.
“Keep supporting me,” I cry out over the shriek of the wind all around us. “I’ll try to find us shelter from the storm.”
Wodred nods above me, his strong hands soothing my fatigued arms. I tighten my grip on the dowsing rod, letting magic flow into the wood, asking it for guidance toward a shelter. The tip of the rod jerks slightly to the left.
“Turn here!” I call out, and somehow Wodred uses his knees to move his warbeast forward where I’ve indicated.
We wind up the mountain, fighting the elements, when suddenly the dowsing rod goes limp in my hands.
My heart sinks. Whether it is the yew branch betraying me like I feared it would, or if I have exhausted my mana for the day, I do not know.
“What’s happened?” Wodred asks, noting the firing is no longer pointing forward. “Where do we go now?”
“I do not know!” I answer, trepidation making me sag in my seat. “The rod is not responding.”
I look through bleary eyes around us, but I do not see anywhere we can shelter. I have failed. We cannot keep moving forward without knowing where it is safe to step and we also cannot stay out in the elements.
There must be something that I can do. I’m not a weak-willed young miss. I have walked through the fire and flame of tribulation and emerged on the other side. I am sasari, my mother’s daughter. I will not die on the side of this mountain and leave the demon to spread his rage and hate.
With trembling arms, I lift the yew branch.
Wodred’s hands steady my arms and I concentrate, pulling from deep within me.
It is dangerous to pull mana from so close to one’s soul, but if there ever was a situation to risk harming my core soul, it would be now when we are so close to death.
I channel the magic back into the dowsing rod and exert my will over the yew branch.
It fights me, resisting helping me, but my will is stronger.
After a fraught moment the dowsing rod begins glowing with a very faint light, the tip tugging forward.
“It’s ahead of us in the storm,” I yell to Wodred over the wind. “It’s safe to move forward.”
Wodred urges his mount forward, still supporting my exhausted arms with his warm, strong hands.
We travel slowly forward, the warbeast having to make a channel through the snow with its body.
Finally, we turn around a corner, led by the dowsing rod, and I see the yawning opening of some kind of cave.
The dowsing rod points straight to it, the shelter just within our reach.
“We need to go inside!” Wodred shouts back to Gunag and Dame Zera behind us. “We’ll wait out the storm there!”
But the gods are laughing at us. Because no sooner do the words leave Wodred’s mouth, then a shrill, demonic shriek splits the air.
“Imps!” calls out Wodred, pulling his ax off his back. Then he slides me off the back of the warbeast. “Get inside the cave, Melelea! We’ll handle this.”
I’m in no condition to argue with him. I’m utterly depleted from the wayfinding, my body and spirit feeling brittle.
There’s no way that I could help fight demons currently.
Luckily, the snow pack isn’t quite as deep here as it has been in other places, only coming to just above my knee, so I can still move, though slowly.
I’m only barely able to get away from the warbeast when the imps strike.
The demons fly through the storm on strong, leathery wings, diving down at the mounted warriors.
I can barely make out the details of the battle through the howling snow, but I hear the shrieks as steel finds flesh, Wodred and the others spilling demon blood with their weapons.
I push through the snow, stepping heavily with every movement forward.
The cave is in sight. If I can just reach it, I’ll be safe and out of the way so that the warriors can do their work.
But just as I make it to the mouth of the cave, cruel talons grab my shoulders and yank me back.
I barely have any strength to struggle as an imp grabs me, dragging me toward the cliffside.
Whether it means to drop me to my death or carry me off, I cannot say, but I’m helpless to stop it.
“Melelea!” I hear Wodred cry out behind me, and in a moment, he’s there, challenging the imp. “Let her go!”
But the imp just snarls, beating its wings furiously as if trying to take off with me in its grip.
But the wind is against it, and snow is weighing down my dress, so it is difficult to fly away.
The moment’s delay is all Wodred needs. He swings his ax as if he could rend the air in two, the blade flashing the low light before taking off the imp’s head in one blow.
The demon’s body slumps down on top of my shoulders, and Wodred grabs it, freeing my shoulders from the talons and tossing it over the cliffside.
But suddenly another imp is flying toward me, talons outstretched. Wodred cuts it down, black blood spraying into the wind, but then there’s another. And another
“They are trying to take Lady Melelea!” Dame Zera shouts, coming to my side, sword up in a defensive posture.
“We will not let them have her!” shouts Wodred, his voice sounding savage in its rage. I’ve never heard him sound like that before. “Get her to the cave! Now!”
“Come, my lady!” orders Dame Zera as she steps in front of me, blade at the ready. “We will get you to safety!”
Once again, I try to make my way through the snow to the cave’s opening, but I’m so very tired and I feel like my limbs are weakening with every step.
I’m slow and sluggish, everything feeling leadened and frail at the same time.
Behind me, I can hear the sounds of battle, Dame Zera, Gunag, and Wodred fighting the imps.
So far, they are keeping them away from me, but the imps are not relenting, trying to get to me with everything in them.
I’m almost at the mouth of the cave, when my foot catches on something under the snow, and I fall forward, my ankle wrenching. I cry out in pain as I crash into the snow. I try to get up, but find whatever is beneath the snow has my foot trapped, and I cannot move.
“Lady Melelea!” calls out Dame Zera. “Can you move?”
“My foot!” I call back. “It’s stuck on something beneath the snow.”
“Hold on!” I hear Wodred shout. “I’m coming!”
I turn behind me to see that the battle is winding down, though the storm rages on. Wodred and the others have killed most of the imps, the snow around them stained black with demon blood. Wodred dispatches another of the demons, then jogs back to where I am.
“I’ll get you free, Melelea,” Wodred says, crouching down to dig in the snow. He works quickly, throwing handfuls of snow behind him as Dame Zera and Gunag stand at his back, defending us from the remaining imps.
“It’s an old root,” Wodred says, pulling a knife from his belt. “Stay very still.”
As Wodred hacks at the root, holding me hostage, the others kill the rest of the imps still attacking us. When there is only one left, however, it flies up into the storm, pulling something from its belt. A warhorn of some kind.
Before I can realize what it’s doing, the demon gives an evil grin and puts the thing up to its lips, blowing out three powerful blasts.
“Is it calling for reinforcements?” Gunag asks tensely.
Then I hear a soft rumble that grows louder, like the roar of the ocean. Inevitable and unstoppable.
“Avalanche!” I shout, but it’s too late. A wall of snow crashes down onto us, and then I’m in a sea of white and cold. I feel my foot get torn free from the root, but it’s no comfort to me now. I’m getting swept away by the force of the avalanche, powerless against its pull.
Then a strong hand grabs my upper arm, hauling me against the current of the snow.
I move through the avalanche almost like swimming through water, the strong hand moving me.
All of a sudden, I burst out of the snow into darkness.
I crash onto a rock floor, landing hard, and I hear something snap, though there is no pain.
Wodred is next to me, still holding my upper arm.
Somehow, he moved us through the snow into the cave.
I turn to see the snow falling in front of the opening, a moving curtain, slowing until it finally stops.
The avalanche has trapped us in the cave.
Our shelter has become our prison.