His mouth watered. Before he could lower his head to torture Selen further, Selen rose to his knees. Now squeezed between the two Adonis, Lissandro let their mouths graze over his cheeks, his nose, his neck, and his shoulders. With both men taller than him, he stifled in their perspiration. Grasping their necks, he claimed their lips. Their moist palms caressed him all over in the most intimate places. Lissandro’s mind was carried away. Drunk by the scents of honeysuckle and violet, he gave back every nibble, every touch, licked a throat, and nuzzled in an armpit. His friends’ manhoods, proudly erect among their thick fuzzes of body hair, rubbed against his waist and back. Lissandro closed his hands on them and decided to kindle their lust to a peak. In impelling, hasty moves, his palms caressed each vein of their lengths to the tips and turned moist. His arms went to embrace Selen’s shoulders, but he realized he was now facing his back. His hands cupped his round butt. His loins were in need. His hard-on ached. He pressed it against Selen and positioned himself. Behind him, Louis squeezed against his bottom. Hands held up his cheeks, and he felt Louis’s breath on his shoulder. His blood was throbbing. With a decisive push, he leaned on Selen as Louis leaned on him. The explosion of pleasure as their bodies entangled blew out his mind, and he moaned Louis’s name. His mind dissolved and turned white as a mattress of feather. A sharp pain tore him apart.
Lissandro opened his eyes. His cheek burnt like struck with hot iron. Heinous, sapphire eyes stared at him. A grip strong as eagle claws clutched his throat. Lissandro took out his hand, which happened to be wet and in his pants, and wrapped the other one around Louis’s wrist.
“How dare you say my name with your hands down there, stealthy pervert?” Louis snarled.
Trying to answer, Lissandro curled up his lips. Louis’s eyes widened with horror. He let go of him and crept backwards to the corner of the cabin, pushing Selen behind him and searching for his sword. Puzzled, Lissandro put a hand to his face, then, fearing the worst, passed his tongue over his teeth. His two canines were fully extended. “Shit.”
“What kind of horror are you?” Louis yelled. “You told us two years ago that you couldn’t be such a thing anymore. That you were like us. Liar!”
“I…I just wanted to feel you,” Lissandro mumbled. “I…”
“Feel us?” Louis repeated with disgust. His eyes narrowed. “You wanted to feed on us.”
“No! I would never…” Lissandro objected.
“How many did you kill already?” Louis shouted. “How many?”
“I…I don’t remember,” Lissandro whispered with a hangdog look.
“By the gods,” Selen whispered. “It was you. You killed all those people.”
The tears come to his eyes. “It was an accident.” The first ones at least. On the edge, he had fallen into a trance and had had mental blanks. Later, he had used his capacities…far too often. He had felt the insatiable need to drink, but never had he remembered the kill.
“An accident? You fell with your teeth first in their flesh?” Louis said with scorn. “And I suppose you destroyed our wineskins as well.”
Lissandro jerked up his head. “No. I–”
“Shut up,” Louis exclaimed. “I don’t care about your excuses.” He picked up his sword and pointed it towards Lissandro. “Get out.”
Holding to his friend’s back, Selen looked at Louis with surprise, then at Lissandro, but didn’t speak. Lissandro stared at Selen, searching for help. Selen’s eyes were all but compassionate. It was over. He had lost the trust of his best friends.
“Get out of this place. Leave this group. I don’t want to see your face ever again,” Louis said, cold as marble.
Coming from Louis, Lissandro knew the words were as far as his pity could stretch, and he should be thankful to be alive. He picked up his clothes but left his bag and blanket. As he reached the door, he glanced one last time at his companions. They waited, impassive. His were the only eyes bathed with tears. He went out and closed the door.
Sobbing and raging against himself, Lissandro staggered aimlessly into the forest. His clothes pressed against his chest, he wandered long. He craved for blood now, but it could wait. He fell to his knees in the snow and yelled. His heart broken, he wondered if, rather of dying of cold, a vampire could die of sorrow.
35
Sitting in the corner of the cabin, Louis woke up. The wall behind his head smelled of timber. It was hard, uncomfortable, and made his back ache. Selen lay asleep against his chest and shoulder, an arm around his abdomen. Except for the warmth of his friend, the room was cold. They had forgotten to feed the fire in the stove, and it had died during the night. Louis tugged the blankets closer around them. He peeked down, but Lissandro was gone. For a moment, he hoped all this had just been a bad dream. His sword, within hand’s reach, reminded him it hadn’t. He laid his head back against the wall and clenched his eyes shut. Why, of everyone in their group, did it have to be Lissandro? Besides Selen, Lissandro had been his only true friend in this life. Louis still didn’t know which revelation had been worse; that Lissandro had killed several innocents since the beginning of their journey, or that he had spied their lovemaking and fancied to possess him and Selen. Louis felt cheated and besmirched. Selen stirred in his arms, raised his head, and looked at him. His green eyes were blank, and he had dark rings under them.
“Is it morning yet?” Selen mumbled with an exhausted voice.
“Yes,” Louis answered in the same tone. He made a move to get up, but Selen held him back. “We need to go,” Louis insisted.
The last thing he wanted now was to talk or linger in this downhearted spirit. He wanted to carry on, to achieve their mission as long as he had the strength to. Selen let go of him. Louis rose. A glimpse through the narrow window told him it was dawn. In silence, he prepared himself and their bags. As he packed Lissandro’s blanket, he heard a sniff behind him and sighed. Letting go of the blanket, he turned around, approached Selen, and put a hand around his waist.
“Can you make it?” Louis asked.
“It’s so unfair,” Selen mumbled, his face low.
“I know.” Louis gave him a hug and caressed the side of his face. Plagued by impatience, he wanted to drag Selen out of the cabin and take the path to the mountain with long strides. Don’t gnaw at my will, Selen, not now. “Can you be strong?”
Selen turned his gaze towards his. Louis’s heart tautened. An acid taste filled his throat. No words were needed from Selen. Louis had been there before. Selen’s eyes were dry and dead. Reddened, arrowed orbs adrift in a white, irritated face. Selen would walk because he had to. Hope had deserted his heart. Holding on to the last piece of hope inside his, Louis felt unable to kindle the spark in Selen. He realized that they were about to face their companions who would expect an explanation.
“Don’t cry in front of the others,” Louis said, thinking of the group’s already faltering motivation. The icicles in his words had nearly cut his tongue. He pressed his lips against Selen’s. He hoped the sincere kiss would reveal to his friend that the upset he bore inside him and that he didn’t have the force to explain wasn’t aimed at him. Selen flinched. Louis tilted his head back, but Selen looked away and kept silent. Louis perceived this chill move as a reaction to his lamentable attempt to settle things. I know you deserve better, but maybe we all pay for our faults. I am paying for mine.
They picked up their bags and stepped out of the cabin. The mist lifted, leaving wispy shreds to glide. The forest was silent. Frozen footsteps vanished deep under the firs. Louis looked at the lake instead and lost his gaze in the vastness of the mountains. The door of the second cabin opened. Their companions went out in a line, the dog trotting at their side. Folc hailed at them.
“Quite a peaceful night we had in there,” Folc exclaimed. He looked around and smirked. “Did you have difficulties dragging Lilo out of bed?”
“Lissandro is no more with us,” Louis said. The cheeriness on their companions’ faces faded in a trice. “He was the traitor.
He had to leave,” Louis explained briefly as his companions stomached the fact. “Let’s go now.” Ignoring the small whines of the dog sniffing around, Louis strode past their group and towards the peaks.
Leaving the timberline behind, they progressed up the moraine in a line like a wolf pack, each alone with his thoughts. Louis pulled his hood over his head. He had learned to raise his scarf over his nose to avoid more frostbites—the ones he had gotten on his cheekbones after his accident were painful enough. Still, the moistness of his breath stuck in the wool made it difficult for him to breathe, and he lowered his scarf with irritation. The skin of his face was taut and his lips cracked. He tasted blood every time he sucked on them. The cold air cleared his mind and filled him with energy. With his staff, he tested the ground before each step. At some places, the snow hid patches of deep powder and reached his thighs. Thinking it would be easier to walk on the protruding rocks, Louis hoisted himself on the stone. He hadn’t made a step on it before his feet slipped, and he fell flat on his side, his hip hitting the rock. The first bruise of the day, he thought.
“I can take the lead,” Ahanu proposed behind him.
Louis ignored the Child. As long as he strode in the right direction, he would stay at the head of the line and give the pace. If he could make it, they could keep up. Besides, he needed to get his group to a point of no return. They were only six left, and he was persuaded to be the only one committed to their cause. The rests were followers, two of whom had already shown hostility towards him.
As they progressed in altitude, the snow got more compact, thus making it easier to walk on. A few yards further, a glacier stood in their way. Deciding it was time for a break, Louis put his bag on the ground and looked at the panorama around him. In the distance, the cabins were but two dots in a dark green expanse. No other trace of habitation could be seen. In the corrie, the oblong shape of the lake was obvious now. Above him, the peaks, covered with snow, rose up to greet the grey immensity. At least, the sky wasn’t threatening. The pass they had to cross was invisible in the maze of rock. The hardest was yet to come. His companions and he gathered in a circle. All of them but Ahanu had their cheeks and noses colored in shades of pink. Folc took the wineskin out of his bag and passed it around.
“Is it where we equip ourselves?” Selen asked.
“I fear it is,” Louis said. “It is also here that Ahanu takes the lead.” Having no experience in climbing, he would not pretend to know best and put everyone in danger. “Selen, you used to live in the Frozen Mountains. You should go first as well.”
“I have never climbed a mountain,” Selen said, unsure.
“But you have experience with the snow,” Louis said, staring at him. Selen nodded.
They took the ice picks out of their bags and fastened the crampons on their shoes. Louis made sure no part of his clothes was loose and would hinder his moves. Selen braided his hair and rolled it as a scarf around his neck. Ahanu smeared a new layer of grease on his face.
“What should we do with it?” Folc said, patting the dog.
They had forgotten the dog. Louis doubted Lissandro had had a plan for him either, considering no one had predicted such climbing. He didn’t have the heart to abandon the animal in the wilderness, but the mastiff must weigh at least as much as him. There was no way it could be carried on someone’s back.
“The dog has to wait here,” Louis said.
Selen gazed at him with reproachful eyes. “It will die.”
“It isn’t my fault,” Louis objected. “I didn’t take it with us.”
“If we leave the dog enough food, it should make it for a while, as long as there is no wolf pack nearby,” Ahanu said.
To Louis’s surprise, Selen yelled with rage, threw his ice pick to the ground, and took his head in his hands. Irritated by the mess of the situation, Louis grasped one of the provision bags and emptied it onto the snow. Cheese, sausages, and biscuits fell in a heap.
“Now, it has food,” he hissed. Theirs, which meant there would be no turning back for most of them. Only one needed to make it back anyway, and it wasn’t something Louis wanted anymore. “Ahanu. Tie us.”
Ahanu stepped forward with the ropes he had spliced. Each of them was bound fast to it. Ahanu was at the head, followed by Eliot, Selen, Kilda, Louis, and Folc. Once Folc had explained to the dog that it had to wait for them next to the pile of food, they began the ascent of the glacier in silence.
There was no haste. Crevasses could hide under the treacherous ice. Any wrong step could be fatal. They had tied their staffs to their bags and tested the ground with their ice picks. After a few hundred yards, they noticed they couldn’t stand up anymore and progressed on hands and knees for a while. The glacier ended on hard-pack snow. They followed a snow spine until they came in front of a stone wall. It was a chaos of fissures, protruding rocks, and couloirs. The steep angle scared Louis. He hadn’t even started that his hands felt moist in his gloves.
“If we climb that and get an avalanche on us, we’re all dead,” Eliot said in front of him.
“We will be very quiet,” Louis said.
“We don’t have all day,” Ahanu said. “We need to reach the summit before night.” The Child hoisted himself on the slope.
The first yards in the couloir provided rocks they could hold on to. Lying flat against the wall and using both his arms to lift himself higher was enough. Once the wall became perpendicular and the ground vanished from his sight, fear took hold of Louis. He couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t about his will anymore. If any of them fell, he would be dragged along. Not only didn’t he have much consideration for his companions’ will, but of the only two he trusted, one was behind him. And what if Ahanu had taken a wrong path, and they were blocked on the slope? His heart raced at the idea. An eagle’s screech brought him back to reality, and he concentrated on his grip.
The wind hissing over his face cut like a knife. A following blow carried small particles of fine hail. He hoped it wouldn’t rain, or snow, or whatever fell at this altitude. Ice fastened on his hair and lashes, but he couldn’t brush it away. He drove his ice pick into a crack and pulled himself up. The rope loosened and hung over his arm.
“Move, Kilda,” Louis said.
“There is smoke on the rope,” Kilda said.
“It’s probably due to the temperatures. You need to move on.”
There was a moment of silence. “I’m scared,” Kilda said low.
“We all are. Look up, there is probably a ledge you can rest on.”
“The rope leans over a kind of edge. I can try to reach it.”
The rope tightened again. Louis moved on. He raised his gaze and saw Kilda’s hands grasp the edge. As she pulled herself over it, one rock got loose and fell. Stretching on his arms, Louis moved to the side to avoid it, but scared to provoke an avalanche, he didn’t shout a warning to Folc. He regretted it when he heard Folc scream, even more when the rope pulled him away from the wall. He felt himself fall.
Frightened to die, he screamed and made a desperate attempt with his ice pick. It got stuck into the rock. His left hand groped the wall in search of anything to hold on to. All he met crumbled or slipped under his fingers. Sweat covered his right hand. His glove was sliding on the ice pick’s handle. The weight at his waist was unbearable, and the rope cut his skin through his clothes. He surprised himself by moaning with panic. He didn’t want to die anymore. His left fingers found a hole. He pushed his hand into it as far as he could. When he thought of fixing his feet, he noticed they hung in the air. Slowly, he bent one leg and tried to crouch most of his body against the wall. He glimpsed down to check on Folc. At the sight of the precipice, his heart missed a beat. Bad idea. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing.
“Kilda, pull us up,” Louis managed to say with a weak voice.
“I can’t,” she groaned from above him. “I don’t have the strength, and the rope is stuck under you.”
Stuck? Louis forced hims
elf to look down. His gaze followed the rope. It disappeared between two rocks. It might be stuck. Louis refused to let go of one grip to check it. Further down the rope, Folc dangled in the air. Louis heard small sobs. The boy was alive. Yet, they lived on borrowed time. He couldn’t move up by himself. Kilda couldn’t drag both of them, and if they pulled on the rope, friction would break it. As much as he could think of, there was nothing he could do. Kilda interrupted his thoughts.
“Louis, I barely stand here. I don’t know how long I can hold on,” Kilda groaned.
“Cut the rope, Kilda,” Louis heard Eliot call from above. “Cut it, or we all fall down.”
“No!” Selen exclaimed. “Kilda, don’t.”
Louis raised his head and stared at Kilda with pleading eyes. She was crying. Yet, she bit her lips and shook her head. Her hands closed tighter on the rope.
“Cut that damn rope!” Eliot shouted.
“Shut up, you little shit,” Selen responded. “Or I swear I’ll throw you down there should you ever reach the top.”
If she doesn’t, you fall, Louis thought. The dilemma he faced was if the rope should be cut before him or under him. Louis heard a yelp. Puzzled, he looked up. He heard it again. It came from below. He looked down. Grit rained from where the rope was stuck. A shadow moved. Something hid behind the rock. Grey, gigantic claws stretched towards the rope. Unsure of what he saw or what to do, Louis waited. The only weapon he had was his ice pick. He clutched it tighter. If the thing came to him, he could use his ice pick, with the risk of falling, but he couldn’t protect Folc. From under the rocky outcrop, the face of a nightmarish creature peeped at him. Despite its demonic features, two globs blue like the sky stared at him. They were filled with sorrow. The face dropped out of sight. At the same time, the claws unblocked the rope. Folc’s body swung in the air. Under the tug, Louis’s ice pick got free. Louis tumbled backwards again. Kilda would never hold both their weight once more. It’s over.
Light from Aphelion 2 - Tears of Winter Page 38
