Rocalla's Saga: Arrival
29: The Trail into the Shattered Mountains

29: The Trail into the Shattered Mountains —

1054 Kyabalaka 8

The next two days pass quickly, as we move farther into the hills surrounding the Shattered Mountains. The travel is strenuous, with the trail becoming more rocky and uneven. Thanks to the bandages that Xerxes has applied, I am able to walk and carry my pack, although I cannot totally ignore the pain. There are several centimeters of snow lying under the trees and in the shadow of the boulders that dot the landscape, but the path itself is clear. Despite the increasing cold, the bright clear weather has raised our moods, and Xerxes has been successfully supplementing our food.

Shortly after noon we come upon a wide valley along the trail, where the path levels off. “Let’s stop and eat lunch,” I say.

Dierdra and Xerxes wander off to replace food, and the twins go to seek water as Elanor and Borojs rest on a large, flat rocky area. Clavius stares at the path behind us, then walks over to me.

“I’m concerned about our pace,” he says.

“We’re doing the best we can. It’s a tough climb and I’m carrying more than I’m used to.”

“I’m not suggesting that we can push ourselves any harder.”

“What then?”

“I’m concerned that the North Plessian army or Gorla Nen’s troops might catch up with us.”

“Wouldn’t they have caught us by now, if they were still after us?”

“Not necessarily. We probably got a day’s head start while they prepared for the road, or they may want to drive us up into the hills before confronting us. If they are pursuing us, they could catch up soon, within a day.”

“What do you suggest?”

“I think that we need to know if we’re being tracked. Now that we’re in the shadow of the mountains, I’m thinking I should go back and scout the trail behind us.”

“Alone? What if you run into trouble?”

“I could take a second person, maybe Dierdra. But no more than that, or we’ll be too easy to spot.”

My stomach knots around the fear nestled in my bosom. “Clavius?” I ask in a soft voice.

“What Rocalla?”

“You’re not leaving me, are you? I mean, you are coming back?”

Clavius smiles at me. “Yes, I’m coming back. Within a couple of days at the most. I’ll not abandon you in the wilderness, Rocalla.”

“Thank you. What do I do in the meantime? Wait here with the others?”

“No, keep moving. We’ll be able to catch up. If the trail should split, mark the way you take with a pile of rocks.”

“Like you’d notice a pile of rocks amidst all these other rocks.”

“If the trail splits, I’ll look for it.”

After our discussion, I take a short walk around the valley. The grass is still mostly green, and the meadow smells fresh and unspoiled. I replace a nice sunny spot overlooking the lowlands to the north and sit down on a warm rock about a hundred meters from the others, using the time to rest and contemplate the path ahead.

Within half an hour, Dierdra and Xerxes return. Xerxes has a basket half filled with berries, and Dierdra is carrying two dressed rabbits. She sets down her bow and the fresh game and walks over to me.

“What’s wrong?” Dierdra asks when she reaches my resting place.

“Clavius fears that the Pyrusians may be following us. He wants to double back and scout the trail behind us.”

“Do you think he’s leaving us?”

“No, he wants you to go with him.”

“I’ll stay with you, if you want.”

“No, I want you to go. But I’m worried. Worried about your safety, and concerned about leading the rest of these people without you by my side.”

“You’ll do fine. You’ve led us everywhere else.”

“Oh, that’s not exactly a recommendation, considering that we’re running away from prison or execution right now.”

“Cheer up and come get some lunch. Let’s at least eat together. I’m sure that Clavius and I won’t be gone long.”

We walk over to the others and eat some tart, juicy berries and the last of our bread, washing it all down with cold mountain water. I sit in silence as the Circle Cultists converse in Franhkallan, and Dierdra and Clavius talk quietly amongst themselves. When everyone has finished, I slowly rise to my feet and address the others.

“Clavius and Dierdra have volunteered to double back and scout the trail behind us,” I say.

“Why?” asks Borojs.

“To see if we are still being pursued,” I say.

“If we are, we’ll replace out soon enough,” he says.

“It would be better to know ahead of time, so that we can prepare for the encounter,” Clavius says.

“And what if we have an encounter while you are absent? What if the Pyrusians have found a way to get ahead of us?” Borojs asks.

“That’s unlikely,” says Clavius.

“But not impossible, given the miserable pace we’re setting.”

“Look,” I say. “There are risks either way, but the greater risk is being overtaken from the rear. Clavius and Dierdra will make a scouting trip. If they don’t replace anything within a day, they’ll turn around and catch up with us. At most they’ll be gone three days.”

“Are we continuing forward during that time?” Borojs asks.

“Yes, we are.”

“Then let’s get going.” With that, Borojs stands up and walks over to his pack.

“Dierdra, leave your pack over by that rock,” Clavius says. “Just take your bow, quiver, water, and food for two days. We’re traveling light so that we can move quickly.”

“Okay.” Turning to me, she says, “Rocalla, be careful.”

“You too,” I say. “Come back whole, and don’t spend any longer doing this than necessary.”

She gives me a hug and then gets ready to travel. Clavius and she are descending the trail within ten minutes. As soon as they are gone, we put our packs on and start across the meadow.

The level walking doesn’t last long; within half an hour we are climbing again. Here the path narrows, only permitting us to walk two abreast over most of it.

The combination of cold thin air, a steep trail, and several days of fatigue slow us down. It seems to take us hours just to reach the next ridge on our journey. After a while, the sun falls behind a mountain and shadows chase us. Searching for a place to camp, I miss the beautiful valley where we enjoyed our lunch. Fifteen minutes later, I settle on a small space between two piles of stone in the gathering gloom.

We make a fire for warmth, and roast one of the rabbits that Dierdra has provided. Then one by one we drift off into uneasy sleep. I replace myself longing for the rough straw bed that held me at The Happy Pilgrim.

The next morning is worse. A sharp, cold wind is blowing down from the mountain and the sky is solid steel gray. I wake up, try to stretch the soreness out of my limbs, and bundle my cloak as tightly about myself as I can.

We take to the trail after a hurried meal. Our progress is even slower than the day before. The wind blasts my face, bringing tears to my eyes and numbing my cheeks. I have to lean forward to push against the frosty force of nature.

We have barely walked an hour when the snow begins. A smattering of random flakes at first, it soon builds to a solid wall of whiteness. I smile briefly when the wind drops, then frown as I realize how rapidly the snow is accumulating.

“Should we stop?” Elanor asks.

“No, we need to make it through the pass before it closes for the winter,” I say.

“Closes?”

“Fills with snow too deep for us to make it through.”

“Oh,” she says. “At this rate, that won’t take long.”

“I know.” I worry that Dierdra and Clavius will have trouble catching up with us.

We push onward through the accumulating snow. Within an hour, it is deep enough that it covers our feet. The trail begins to fade as snow blankets the path, and we resort to walking single file.

I ask Xerxes to take the lead, but he refuses, saying that he can navigate better from the rear. The snow is falling so quickly that I can see clearly only twenty meters or so. As I am unsure of the path, I resort to testing the way ahead with my quarterstaff when I am uncertain of the footing, which only slows us down more.

The stress of leading the way is taking its toll, and within an hour I am exhausted. Nevertheless, I push on, determined to make as much progress as possible.

We travel another couple of hours through a fairly sheltered area between two ridges. A solid wall of brown rock forms the right side of the path, and a steep hill is on the left. The snow accumulation is less here, enabling us to make better time. A gentler incline helps as well.

It is probably noon when we come through the gap. The steep hill drops away and the path turns around a corner to the right.

“Oh no,” I say.

“What is it?” Elanor asks.

“The path ahead, it’s covered with snow, maybe knee deep, and …”

“And what?”

“It’s a narrow trail along the side of a sheer rock wall, maybe a meter wide. If we step off the path, it’s a long fall down into the valley below.”

“So we turn back?”

“No, we can’t.”

“You’re not thinking of taking that path in this storm?”

I hesitate a minute, considering the journey ahead and what lies behind. “Yes, I am,” I say. “There is no other path to take. Everyone listen; the trail is narrow here and potentially dangerous. I’ll go first, and test the way with my quarterstaff. Follow close behind, and step where I step. Understand?”

As soon as they all answer, I start walking forward before I lose my nerve. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I start to sweat despite the cold weather. My steps are slow and tentative, each one preceded by probing with my quarterstaff.

The face of the mountain is exposed, and we are again buffeted by the wind. Each time a gust pushes me, panic fills my mind as I fear being blown off the narrow shelf of rock that forms our path. Within ten minutes, my legs are shaking from the strain.

“Rocalla,” says Elanor, who is right behind me. “I can’t do this.” I turn to look behind me and see her pressed against the flat face of the rock wall, staring out into the valley far below.

“Elanor, you can do it. You have to do it.”

“It’s madness, walking along here in this storm. I can’t do it. We’ll have to wait until the weather clears.”

“The weather may not clear for days. By then, there may be too much snow to use this trail at all. If it freezes to ice, we’ll be trapped here in the mountains for the whole winter. We’re not prepared for that.”

“Then we’ll have to go back to Mandelbroggen.”

“To what, prison?”

“That beats falling to our deaths,” she says.

“Elanor, we can make it if we go now, before the snow gets any deeper.”

“What’s the hold up?” Borojs shouts from the end of the line.

“We’re inspecting the trail,” I shout back. “We’ll be moving along in a moment.”

“I don’t think so,” Elanor says.

“Nassandra,” I say. She looks at me, and with a sinking feeling I remember that she does not understand Gallish. I motion for her to come forward, past Elanor.

She hesitates at first, but then starts to move. “Elanor,” I say. “Keep close to the rock wall so that Nassandra can get by.”

“That’s not a problem.” I watch as Nassandra slides past Elanor. When she makes it, the twin looks at me expectantly.

“Okay, I’m taking the lead. Nassandra will go second, and she will lead you, Elanor. Feneksia will be right behind you. Tell them what we’re going to do.”

“What if I don’t want to tell them?”

“Tell them,” I say, anger creeping into my voice. “We’re going to keep going, and you’re coming with us. I’m not leaving you here, and we are not going back. You need to follow close behind Nassandra. Look at her; keep your right hand on the rock wall if you need to. But we’re going forward.”

“We’re not going anywhere if I don’t say so. Nassandra can’t understand a word you’re saying, and neither can Feneksia.”

“Then I’ll get someone else to translate.”

“Who? Dierdra isn’t here.”

“Enough!” I say. “Don’t test me, Elanor. This is neither the time nor the place. We need to get off this mountainside and out of the weather. And the only choice we have is to go forward. There is nothing for us back in Mandelbroggen, and if we don’t get to the pass soon, we may be trapped in these mountains until we either freeze to death or starve.”

“Crossing this cliff in this weather is utter madness, but you’re the leader. I’ll wave to you on the way down.” She starts talking to Nassandra and Feneksia, but her eyes never leave mine.

When she is finished speaking, I turn and start walking again. The wind continues to push and pull at me, and the going is slow, but my anger and determination drive me forward now. My legs shake and my knees ache, and from time to time my whole body shudders from the cold. My cheeks are raw and I can taste the blood leaking from my cracked lips. But I continue onward, unstopping, determined to reach the end of the rock shelf.

The rock face of the mountain curves in and out, like the folds of a hanging tapestry. At one point, the path ascends sharply, gaining about fifty meters, along a section of rock shelf that resembles broken and jumbled stairs. Whenever I glance back, everyone is there, close behind me. Elanor may be unhappy, but she is forcing herself to continue.

At the top of the rugged ascent, the trail widens and again curves to the right. The snow is deeper here, reaching above my knees in some places. I prod the path ahead carefully, searching for sure footing on the slippery rocks.

Fifteen minutes later, I can see the end; ten minutes after that, we are all standing in a gentle saddle between two low peaks.

“Let’s cross over that rise and rest. Hopefully, we’ll be out of the wind.”

The shelter beyond the rise is minimal, but I can go no further. I drop my pack and collapse onto the snowy ground.

We have rested for no more than fifteen minutes when two figures come running over the rise.

“Get up!” Clavius shouts. “They’re less than an hour behind us.”