The Whitefire Crossing - By Courtney Schafer Page 0,69
his overtaxed muscles.
“One thing I need to know first...” Dev prodded the overjacket and blanket tied to Kiran’s pack. “Thank Khalmet, your gear’s dried out. But once the storm hits, we’ll need a way to stay warm. Can he detect the magic from a fire stone charm?”
“A magefire should be safe so long as I remain nearby with the amulet,” Kiran said. He glanced across at the opposite wall of the canyon, and promptly wished he hadn’t. Timberline seemed impossibly high above their current position. “How far to this place you’re thinking of?” He dreaded the answer.
“It’s a ways,” Dev said. “But I think we can make it there by dark.” If you’ll get off your ass and start walking, was the unspoken sentiment plain on his face.
Kiran stood and suppressed a groan as the weight of the pack settled back on his shoulders. “All right. I’m ready to continue.”
As he took one slow step after another up the gently curving slab of rock, he thought back to the surge of magic that had struck him at the river. To generate a storm so large, Ruslan must have cast a fully channeled spell. That required both a channeler and a focus, and that meant Ruslan wasn’t alone.
Kiran’s stomach twisted. He knew who Ruslan had brought. “Mikail,” he said softly. His mage-brother, his closest friend and confidant, joining Ruslan in the hunt...his heart hurt at the thought, even as new tendrils of fear curled down his spine. Breathing harder, he tried to move faster.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
(Dev)
By the time we reached the barren expanse of Bearjaw Cirque, the sky had turned a leaden gray. Snowflakes small as sand grains swirled through the air, and the icy bite of the wind promised much worse to come.
Somewhere along the base of Bearjaw’s southern cliffs, a cave waited. It wasn’t even a true cave, only a spot where a massive chunk of rock had long ago broken away from the cliff and left a deep hollow beneath an overhang. Later rockfalls had piled boulders over the hollow, but a slender gap remained, just wide enough for a man to slide through to reach the enclosed space beyond. Within, we’d be well protected from the wind and snow.
The trick would be finding the cave again. I’d spent a few nights there two summers ago while I chipped carcabon stones from a nearby cliff, but back then I’d approached from the western side of the cirque. Things were bound to look different when coming up from the east. I figured our best bet was to climb straight south to the base of the cliffs and then work our way westward until we reached the cave.
Kiran plodded through the rocks toward me. His face was white and set, exhaustion plain in every slow, dragging step.
I yelled over a gust of wind, “Not far now—the cave’s in those cliffs.” I pointed at the forbidding southern wall of the cirque.
His shoulders slumped. The distance wasn’t that great, only a mile or two, but it was all over talus, some of it steep.
“Rest here a minute,” I told him. “Eat something, and put on everything warm you’ve got. It’s only gonna get colder.”
Kiran sat down without speaking. He gnawed on a piece of jerky like he was almost too tired to chew. I tried to ignore my unease. We were almost there, damn it. He could make it.
Even in the short span of our break, the snow picked up significantly and so did the wind. The flakes remained small, not a good sign. This storm meant business. I sighed and fixed the position of the cliffs firmly in my mind. Between the snow and the lateness of the hour, soon I wouldn’t be able to see them at all. If we got lost, we’d wander through the rocks of the basin until we froze to death.
Thinking of that, I got out one of my short lengths of rope. When Kiran clambered to his feet, I tied one end around his waist and the other around mine. “Keep this on and we won’t lose each other,” I yelled into his ear. If he replied, I didn’t hear it, muffled as his face was in his hood, hat, and scarf. I started walking, holding the rope up behind me to keep it from snagging on rocks.
The snow fell thick and fast, turning the talus into a slick, treacherous obstacle course. The wind whipped icy flakes into my eyes with painful force. I grew steadily