27. Chapter 27
It was an almost vertical climb. Isla’s muscles screamed for rest as she dug her heels in, fingernails scraping for purchase on stone as she searched for grooves in the smooth rock face to use as hand holds. Hours into their ascent, she was thoroughly regretting her refusal of Aurelia’s healing.
Annoyingly, the fae climbed with the same grace they demonstrated on flat ground.
Vaelin extended a hand from above, helping her scramble over a particularly steep section of smooth shale.
She glared at him as she reached the flatter ground, and his lip twitched, but it didn’t completely mask the concern in his eyes as he said, “Not much further.”
Her ears popped as they finally crested the peak of the mountain, her eyes drifting over the grey expanse that spread in all directions.
No trees grew this high up — they were surrounded by rock and shale on all sides, shades of grey and white as far as her eyes could see.
A thick fog enveloped them, making everything feel damp and eerie, the only sound the wind whipping through the mountain range, completely unimpeded.
As Evric had warned, visibility was so poor she could hardly make out the peaks of the surrounding mountains.
The wind sent tendrils of hair streaming across her face.
She turned her face away from the wind’s assault, the strength of the gust forcing her to take a step sideways, and her eyes locked on the Skybridge.
During the climb she’d been able to bury the creeping dread of what awaited her at the top of this Godsforesaken mountain.
She’d focused on putting one foot in front of - or above - the other and keeping her balance in the face of the winds that seemed to want to rip her from the face of the mountain.
The reality was worse than anything she could have imagined.
A narrow, stone pathway sat suspended in mid-air, stretching across the Pass, connecting the summit they stood upon to another, though she could not see it through the mists.
There was no railing, not even a slightly higher rock ledge to mark its edges.
Wide enough for a person to stand comfortably - she scoffed at the word - but with little room for error, yawning death lying in wait on either side.
Ten thousand feet peaks - easy. Evric’s voice drifted through her mind, and she curled her hands into fists to mask their shaking.
Pulse hammering in her throat, she squinted as a gust of wind whipped across her face — it was so cold up here.
Her stomach roiled with nausea, anxiety clawing its way up her throat.
She couldn’t pull her gaze from the bridge.
I’m not going to die, she had said to Vaelin.
“Hey.”
As though she’d summoned him, Vaelin was suddenly before her, blocking her view of the bridge.
His voice was soft and low, the way one might speak to a nervous animal.
He canted his head, searching her eyes, his own holding with a certainty she didn’t feel, “We rest tonight. Then we cross tomorrow. I’ve got you. ”
Though it made no sense, should be of little comfort, his words calmed her. His beard had grown longer still over the last few days, the dark hair now covering the whole of his cheeks and jawline. She loosed a shaky breath, nodding stiffly.
“Well, the Gods be damned. Who dragged your asses up this mountain?”
Vaelin’s eyes snapped toward the new voice.
Across the plateau, a tall fae with long, unruly brown hair clapped Evric on the shoulder, lifting an open palm in greeting to Vaelin.
A short, slight fae woman with night black hair braided in a crown around her head sidled up beside him, the two leather sashes strapped firmly against her upper thighs well-stocked with throwing daggers. She smiled her own greeting.
“More friends of yours?” he heard Isla murmur from beside him.
“Sort of,” he grunted, moving toward the fae. He felt Isla follow cautiously in his wake.
“Alaeric. Bronwyin,” he nodded at the fae, “What brings you to the Skybridge?”
“The whole fucking Pass is blocked,” Alaeric grumbled. “You’ve been long in getting back, and the King grows… impatient.”
Vaelin gritted his teeth in annoyance. Had he expected that they would simply stumble over the border into Terravern and trip upon the cure to the illness? “The Queen?” he inquired instead.
Alaeric grimaced, shaking his head, and Vaelin felt Aurelia grow still beside him, paling.
“When?” he asked what Aurelia couldn’t.
“Mere days after you left,” Bronwyin answered, arms folded across her chest as though she sought to hold herself together, braced against the winds that continued to blow, unruly, across the plateau. “They say she lit the sky like a comet. Like the General.”
Vaelin blinked rapidly, forcing down the bile that threatened to rise in his throat as flashes of Sereth’s end momentarily darkened the edge of his vision. He felt Isla’s arm brush his own, a shock of warmth bleeding into him. His vision cleared as he took a steadying breath.
“Others?” he heard Aurelia ask, her voice raw with grief.
Bronwyin shifted her gaze to Aurelia, sympathy in her dark eyes — not a common emotion among the Shadowborne. She did not mince words. “Yes. Fae have fallen in all regions of Vaelora. Many are ill. The healers continue to do their best, but…” she trailed off, shrugging.
A heavy silence settled over the group and Aurelia turned away, swiping a hand hastily across her eyes before covering her mouth. Evric placed a hand on her shoulder, a stoic column of support.
Alaeric cleared his throat, “The King sent additional parties - us included - to all corners of the continent. To cover more ground, he said. Assuming something had delayed you.”
Alaeric’s gaze shifted, his eyes sweeping over Isla. Vaelin bit back a flare of annoyance. “This is Isla, a healer from Terravern. The illness has swept through their realm as well. We’re headed to Dunovar to consult the Scholars. Isla has family there.”
The other fae dipped his chin politely to Isla, and she offered him a tight-lipped smile.
“We’re headed to Askeldrath,” Bronwyin explained, “But we need supplies. The King’s patience will not stretch much farther, and this is the only way to reach the Market without waiting for that debris field to be cleared.”
“We came to a similar conclusion,” Evric agreed.
“I’m just lucky they stuck me with a windwielder, I guess,” Bronwyin smirked, and Alaeric scoffed, but his jaw tightened. This was not an easy crossing for anyone.
They’d camped together, sharing rations by the fire that only stayed burning thanks to a combination of Evric feeding the flames and Vaelin and Alaeric taking turns shielding the campsite.
Beyond their shielded corner of the summit, the wind had raged, whipping violently through the air.
Isla had wrapped herself in Evric’s cloak once again, curling as close to the fire as she dared.
She woke at dawn, the mood around the campfire solemn and tense as they considered what lay ahead. Wordlessly, they packed their belongings. Then Vaelin stood, his eyes passing between each of them.
“Evric first, then Aurelia. Then me, then Isla.” Vaelin barked orders as though they were facing a battlefield. “No farther than ten paces apart from one another. You need to stay within reach of my magic. Aurelia will heal me on the other side so we can keep moving.”
“Are we not going all together?” Isla asked, darting a glance to where Alaeric and Bronwyin were packing up across the campsite. “He’s a windwielder, too, right?”
“It’s too risky to have two windwielders both trying to quell the winds,” Vaelin explained. “All it takes is one pocket between shields for the wind to rip through, changing the current of the air abruptly. No time to adjust.”
Isla paled, nodding mutely. Vaelin rose along with Evric to clap a hand on Alaeric’s shoulder, bidding him good luck on the crossing as he and Bronwyin prepared to depart.
She felt her eyes slide back to the bridge, and a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold rolled through her. Suddenly, she envisioned the winds catching in her tunic, snagging at it like phantom hands, pulling her down, down, down…
A hand weaved its way into her own, and Isla looked up in surprise at Aurelia.
The fae squeezed her fingers in comfort, offering her a small smile.
“Vaelin is one of the most infuriatingly stubborn people I know. He also cares deeply about his people, and was trained by the very best.” Isla nodded mechanically as Aurelia’s blue eyes echoed the determination she’d seen in Vaelin’s.
“If he says he can get us across, he will do it, or he will die trying.”
Isla swallowed, unsure if she was comforted by that or not.
Alaeric and Bronwyin now strode toward the bridge and Isla moved silently to Vaelin’s side.
“So… were they in the same battalion as you?” she asked.
“Occasionally. Evric knows Alaeric much better than I do. But, I wouldn’t call us friends.”
“Colleagues, then?” she teased lightly, and his mouth twitched slightly.
“That might be more apt. Bronwyin is a well-known spy, a shadowwielder, though I’ve met her only in passing.”
Isla turned to watch as the two fae began their crossing, her stomach flipping on their behalf.
But Bronwyin moved confidently down the smooth, rocky path without hesitation, perhaps ten paces ahead of Alaeric.
The mists seemed to part around them as Alaeric cast his shield around them both, opposing the buffeting mountain winds.
Isla blew out a breath, attempting to rid some of the tension from her body.
The mountain winds howled, but the fae seemed largely unaffected, their clothes not even fluttering in the breeze.
Alaeric’s shield held strong. Bronwyin moved as though she was well-assured of the windwielder’s ability to calm the winds, and Isla suspected Vaelin was even more powerful than Alaeric.
She looked to Vaelin, and he glanced down at her, offering her the faintest of tight smiles.
But his expression remained tense as his eyes shifted back to where the fae approached the middle of the bridge, his jaw tight.
Isla took a steadying breath, closing her eyes as a powerful gust of wind blew across her face. She could do this. She could—
A scream ripped through the air, cracking like a whip as it echoed off the mountains and Isla’s eyes snapped open. Vaelin was already moving, but so was Evric, his grip on Vaelin ironclad as he held him back, away from the edge of the mountain.
Bronwyin dangled from the middle of the bridge.
Alaeric was on his hands and knees, crawling to her as fast as he dared.
A wave of nausea rocked Isla as she watched Bronwyin scramble, her nails scraping and breaking as she begged for purchase on the smooth stone edge of the bridge.
She loosed a grunt edged with a desperate panic as she curled her knees to her abdomen, as though she might wrap the length of her body around the width of the bridge like a ribbon.
The wind screeched through the mountains, gusting hard enough that Isla hit the plateau hard on her knees, the ringing pain cracking through her kneecaps.
Aurelia crouched beside her, clutching at Isla’s forearm as though she, too, might try to run for the edge. “We have to help them!” Isla screamed.
Vaelin loosed a growl that seemed to thread through the wind, the two braiding together. Power exploded from him, knocking Evric back and seeming to calm the winds as Alaeric’s hair ceased blowing wildly around his head as he scrambled toward Bronwyin, grasping her wrists.
They were too far away to see their faces, the swirling fog partly obscuring them, but Isla could read the tension in Alaeric’s body from the plateau, and the desperation in Bronwyin’s as she loosed a sob, her terror palpable.
Her braid ripped from its fastening around her head, slapping the back of her neck, and one of her hands slipped off the bridge.
Isla loosed a strangled sound the same time as Aurelia cried out.
Alaeric lunged from where he now lay flat on his stomach, shouting words of encouragement they couldn’t hear over the roar of the winds that tore through the Pass, despite both Alaeric and Vaelin’s combined attempts to hold them at bay.
“They’re too far, Vaelin!” Evric growled over the winds, “You’ll burn out before we’ve taken our first step!”
“No!” Vaelin screamed, his desperate fury deafening.
The fog seemed to thicken, dropping like a weighted blanket over the bridge, further obscuring the fae as Isla watched as Alaeric struggled to get his feet under him, keeping both hands tight around Bronwyin’s remaining wrist. He screamed into the void, as he hauled her slight form up.
Isla’s heart jumped hopefully as the woman managed to get her other hand back onto the bridge as Alaeric raised her up one inch, then three.
The wind blew with renewed force, and Isla screamed as she watched Bronwyin’s arm slip through Alaeric’s grasp like water, her other hand ripped from the bridge as she fell, a scream ripping from her lungs.
Alaeric stumbled, the sudden loss of weight sending him swaying.
He took a step back to balance himself — and stepped into open air.
And then they were gone, their screams echoing off the mountains, a horrifying, haunting chorus of death.