“Ice,” I said to Sabina, though it clearly wasn’t necessary.
Sabina leaned close to me. “Hadrack, where are the other Pilgrims who went ahead of us?”
I squinted at the ridge, lifting a hand to block the ice pellets that bounced painfully off my nose and cheeks. Finally, I pointed. “There they are!”
Two figures were moving cautiously on their hands and knees about halfway across the expanse, their dark cloaks all but lost against the stone as the wind and ice pounded them relentlessly. I watched in horror as one of the Pilgrims suddenly slipped and slid sideways, clawing desperately at the smooth stone slabs. The pair were tied together like Sabina and I were and I cried out in helpless anger as first one, and then the other was swept over the side without a sound. Sabina and I both glanced down at the rope binding us together, and I wordlessly untied it and threw it aside.
“We could turn around and wait until it’s safer!” I called out over the wind.
“They will send us back if we do that!” Sabina shouted back.
I knew that she was right. The rules were clear. Stop or turn around and The Walk was done for you. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to her ear. “If you are sure you want to do this, then get my sword out for me.”
Sabina looked at me quizzically, but she did as I asked anyway. I guided her behind me, then walked forward carefully as the wind rifled my clothing, threatening to flip me over the side into the gorge far below. I placed the tip of Malo’s sword on the ridge's smooth stone as balls of ice bounced and slapped against it all around me. Then I pressed down and made several swooping cuts, scoring through the layer of ice and into the rock. I paused and knelt to survey my handiwork, pleased to see that shallow grey lines had been cut into the dark veneer of the stone. I made several more cuts in the opposite direction, then tentatively put one foot down. I grinned, feeling the tiny fragments of ice and rock that I’d cut out grind beneath my boot. I had traction. I took a second, more confident step, then scored the stone in front of me again.
I continued on that way, step by step for a good ten feet before pausing and looking back. Sabina was waiting for my signal and I motioned for her to come forward. I was surprised to see that other Pilgrims were standing alongside her now. They were cheering me on, I saw, though I could hear nothing over the howling wind. I turned back to my task.
I don’t know how long it took us to cross that treacherous ridge. Sabina told me later that it had been hours, but I have always found that to be an exaggeration. I do know that when we finally got to the other side, I was shaking so hard with fatigue that Sabina and another burly Pilgrim had to drag me to safety through the high, rounded opening in the cliff face. Sabina had enough wits about her to take the short sword from my unfeeling hand and replace it just before a procession of chanting Sons appeared. The Sons were accompanied by Sons-In-Waiting, who scurried forward carrying heavy furs, which they hurried to wrap around us.
“Come, Pilgrim!” one of the apprentices said to me kindly. He was thin of face, with gentle eyes and a fur hat perched at an angle on his bald head. “Come inside. Your ordeal has come to an end. The salvation of The Mother and The Father awaits within.”
Only one hundred and twenty-two Pilgrims of the four hundred that had set out on The Walk from Calban and Taskerbery Castle more than a week ago survived to see the Complex. Many who did make it were injured, with more than one, I learned, losing fingers, toes, and even noses to the extreme cold. The loss of life was staggering to comprehend, unheard of in the entire history of the Pilgrimage.
The Overseer of the Complex—a priest named Son Lawer—walked solemnly around the moaning, weeping Pilgrims, shaking his head, his face twisted in sorrow as he listened to the stories the survivors told of their ordeals. I believed the Son to be a pleasant man in most instances, going by the laugh lines around his mouth, but today there was no joy on his face, only sadness and reflection as he listened to each Pilgrim respectfully.
We were in a large amphitheater that sat deep within the mountain with rows of benches cut into the stone. Tight-lipped physicians, aided by apprentices, examined each of the sitting Pilgrims with precision and quiet authority. Sabina and I had been looked at already and deemed fit, though Sabina had a deep gash on her arm that she couldn’t remember happening that required bandaging. My shin was already turning purple and black where I had struck it, but other than that and a gnawing fatigue pressing down on me, I felt surprisingly well. I was already planning a way for Sabina and me to slip away when Son Lawer stopped before us, looking down his prominent nose at me.
“I believe thanks are in order, Pilgrim,” the Son said in a deep, somber voice. Several serious-faced Sons-In-Waiting flanked him.
“I’m not sure why, Son,” I said. I felt uncomfortable craning my neck to look at him, so I stood.
Son Lawer’s eyebrows rose as I towered over him. “My, but you are a big one, aren’t you?” he muttered. He clasped his hands together over his bulging belly. “I have spoken with some of the other Pilgrims, and they inform me that it was you who had the ingenuity to scrape the ice off the walkway. An innovative and timely idea indeed. Had you not done so, I imagine there would be far fewer Pilgrims here than there are right now.”
“Perhaps if help had been offered when it was needed most,” I said reproachfully, “then I wouldn’t have had to do it at all.”
“How dare you!” one of the apprentices spat. He was squat and ugly, with broad shoulders and inflamed pimples covering his face and sloping forehead. “Do you know—”
Son Lawer held up a hand. I noticed absently that each of his fingers was encircled by a small ruby ring with a gold band. “That will be quite enough, Jamon.” The apprentice closed his mouth with a snap as he glared at me darkly. “I appreciate how you must feel, Pilgrim,” Son Lawer continued. “But as you know, the rules of The Walk are clear. And as much as it pains me to see needless lives lost, even I must not break those rules.” I snorted, not bothering to respond as I helped Sabina to her feet. “While we are on the subject of rules,” Son Lawer said, his face expressionless. “It has come to my attention that you may have a weapon with you. Is that true?”
I paused for a heartbeat before I shook my head. “Of course not, I’m a simple Pilgrim. What need would I have for a weapon?”
“A fine question,” the priest said. I saw him glance away to one of the entrances, where soldiers had appeared. They began making their way toward us. “Yet the fact remains that several witnesses swear that you do possess just such an item, and it was this said weapon that you used to break the ice.”
“They are mistaken,” I said gruffly. “There is no great mystery about how I did it. I used a tree branch.”
“A tree branch!” Jamon said in disbelief. “There are no trees anywhere near the Black Way.”
Son Lawer took a deep breath and he turned to glare at the ugly apprentice. Jamon flushed and looked down as the priest turned back to me. “So, it was a tree branch, then?” he said thoughtfully. “Not a sword?”
“That’s right, Son. The wind was blowing the snow in all directions, making it hard to see. The Pilgrims were exhausted. I imagine their minds told them that I held a sword, when in reality, it was only a branch.”
Son Lawer rubbed his chin as he considered my words. Finally, he grunted in acceptance and waved off the approaching soldiers. “I believe you, Pilgrim.” He put his hand on my forearm and squeezed. “My apologies for doubting you. You have our deepest thanks for what you did. I hope you both find the solace you seek on my mountain.”
The priest nodded to Sabina and me, and then he moved off to speak to another pair with his grim-faced apprentices close on his heels. Jamon glowered at me with dislike as he followed after the Son.
I leaned close to Sabina once they were out of earshot. “We have to leave. Right now.”
“You don’t think the priest believed you?”
“I know he didn’t,” I said. I looked around, seeking a w
ay out. “The question is, why didn’t he press me on it?”
The amphitheater seating rose high above us, row upon row that seemed to go on forever. I could see several exits at the top, though none appeared to be guarded as far as I could tell. Serving girls dressed in flowing white robes had begun bringing food and water from the lower entrances, so I decided our best course was upward. I turned for the stairs, then froze as my eyes met those of Emand the cordwainer, who was standing at the other end of the room watching us. The shoemaker saw my gaze on him and he waved to us mockingly. His spindly wife sat on a bench beside him, clutching a bloody bandage to her forehead.
“Come on,” I growled, taking Sabina’s arm.
The rounded benches were separated into sections, with smooth, gleaming stairs running between them up to the top level. I guided Sabina to the closest steps, hurrying up them and expecting a cry to halt at any moment. No call came, however, and when we reached the top landing, I paused to look back down. No one appeared to have noticed us or seemed the least bit interested in what we were doing. I shifted my eyes toward where Emand stood. The cordwainer’s wife still sat where she had been, pressing the cloth to her forehead, but the shoemaker was nowhere to be seen. Had he gone to get help?
I hustled Sabina out into a long corridor well lit by abundant torches. Several Sons-In-Waiting were walking down the hall and they nodded to us cordially as they passed, looking unsurprised by our sudden appearance.
“Which way?” Sabina whispered to me.
I looked to my right, following the direction the apprentices were heading, then left. The corridor was empty in that direction and stretched for twenty feet before curling out of sight. “This way,” I said decisively, heading left.
Once we passed around the bend, we found ourselves in a much larger corridor with open archways along both walls every twenty feet. I peered through the first archway, where I could see half a dozen apprentices sitting in a circle on squat stone stools, listening to a Son as he spoke in a high, condescending voice. We kept moving. The corridor floor changed from rough stone to polished tile as we progressed, until finally, we entered a grand room with thirty-foot high ceilings supported by elegantly-sculpted white columns. Sons in black robes strode together in twos and threes, engaged in conversation, while around them, Sons-In-Waiting scurried urgently, many of them laden with leather-bound tomes and rolled parchments. Corridors led off the grand room in all directions, each one looking as indistinct as the next.
Sabina and I paused in indecision. “How do we get out of this place?” she muttered.
I lifted a hand to a short Son-In-Waiting as he hurried past, a stack of books balanced in his arms. “Excuse me, can you help us?” I asked.
The apprentice hesitated and he blinked up at me. His eyes were light blue and watery and shone with an inner dullness that offered little in the way of intelligence. “Help you, Pilgrim? How?”
“We’re looking for the way out,” I said.
The Son-In-Waiting blinked again, this time in confusion. “Out? Out of where?”
“This place,” I said, trying not to let my frustration show as I gestured around me. “How do we get outside from here?”
“Outside? Why would you want to do that?”
“Because we do,” I said, forcing a smile.
“But you are Pilgrims,” the apprentice said, twitching his lips as he thought. “You were just outside. Why would you want to go back? It’s a blizzard out there.”
“We won’t go far,” Sabina said. “We’re just not used to being underground. We need some air.”
The apprentice stared at Sabina as though she had just grown a second head. “Air?” he mumbled. He looked around in confusion. “There is air right here.”
I groaned to myself. Of all the Sons-In-Waiting in the entire Complex, I had to stop the only halfwit. “We need fresh air,” I said patiently, stressing the word fresh. “We’re not accustomed to breathing air as stale as this.”
“Stale air,” the apprentice repeated as he struggled with the concept. Finally, he shrugged. “I don’t know much about the air either way, but you can’t leave right now even if you wanted to. The Complex has been sealed.”
“Why?” I growled, knowing it probably had something to do with Sabina and me.
“I don’t know,” the apprentice said, looking disinterested. “Maybe because of the storm?” He motioned with his head to one of the exits. “But if it’s fresher air you want, that corridor there will take you down to Oasis.”
“We can go there now?” Sabina asked, sounding surprised.
“Of course,” the apprentice said. “Oasis is open to all. I find it smells nice down there, so hopefully it will fit your needs.”
“What about the—” I began to say.
“Thank you,” Sabina said, cutting me off. “That will do nicely.”
The apprentice looked relieved. “I’m glad that I could help,” he said as he hurried away.
“Well, now we’re in trouble,” I grunted. “They’re looking for us.”
“Come on,” Sabina said. “I have an idea.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me after her.
“Where are we going?” I protested.
“You have forgotten your lessons,” Sabina admonished me as she dragged me toward the corridor for Oasis. I blinked at her in confusion. Now it was my turn to be the halfwit. Sabina grinned at me. “Oasis is open to the outside, Hadrack, remember?”
I rolled my eyes. “And it is also surrounded by cliffs,” I said with a snort. “Very tall ones.”
Oasis was located in a deep gorge torn through the heart of the mountain itself. The gorge was miles long, with walls rising more than thirteen hundred feet on all sides. “Do you expect us to climb out?” I asked sarcastically.
“Of course not, don’t be silly. I’m talking about the Tapeau. If we can find them, then they can help us to get out.”
I grunted, perking up with interest. The Tapeau were the natural custodians of Oasis. An ancient sect tasked with caring for the sacred place for the last thousand years. They lived on the mountain near the Complex and only entered the gorge through a tunnel from the outside. I grinned at Sabina in admiration. She was right, the tunnel could indeed be our way out.
The corridor we were traveling along ended abruptly, with narrow stairs heading downward. Torches lit the stairwell as we began the long descent, until finally we reached a short landing. That landing led to another set of stairs, with another long climb down to a second landing, then more stairs where an alcove finally awaited at the bottom. Two expressionless soldiers holding short pikes and wearing shields on their arms stood to either side of an arched opening facing the stairs.
The stairwell had reeked overwhelmingly of mildew and dust during the descent, but now the first faint smells of rich fauna coming from Oasis reached us. The gorge was warmed by hundreds of tiny hot springs that bubbled to the surface along the floor, releasing constant heat that enabled plants and trees to grow where they otherwise would have no business being. I could hear an underlying booming coming from the opening and I realized we were hearing The Purge, the famous waterfall near where The Father and Mother had consummated their love.
The bigger of the two guards nodded as we approached. “Welcome, Pilgrims,” he rumbled in a flat voice.
I thought the soldiers might try to stop us and was prepared for it, but neither man said anything else, looking bored and disinterested. We walked past them unchallenged and stepped into a long corridor. I could feel a sudden rush of heat rolling down the corridor’s length as sweat started to break out on my forehead. We approached an enormous chasm torn through the rock face and paused several paces inside its cavernous mouth. We had reached Oasis.
Despite what the halfwit apprentice had told us, the air coming from inside the gorge felt humid and oppressive as a light rain fell. Colorful birds flitted back and forth from the branches of hardy-looking trees, while below them, vines covered in supple purple flowers gr
ew twisting and curling through a dense layer of leaves, grass, and small bushes. I noticed many of the trees were covered in a compact, web-like, grey growth.
“Strangler figs,” Sabina explained. “The plant life on the floor gets very little sunlight, so the strangler figs use the tree trunks to climb above the branches.”
A tiny red and yellow bird alighted on a vine near my feet and cocked its head, regarding me curiously before taking flight and disappearing. Something moved through the grasses in front of me and I stepped back just as a light green snake with white stripes slithered across my path before disappearing into the undergrowth.
“That was a Green Tree Boa,” Sabina said. “You will probably see more of them hanging from the branches here and there.” She saw the look on my face and chuckled. “Don’t worry, Hadrack, they are harmless. They only eat birds and reptiles.”
I kept one eye on the trail ahead and one on the trees we passed under as we moved into Oasis, expecting a snake to drop on me at any moment. The sound of rushing water and a strange hissing grew louder as we progressed, and three times we had to make our way around small hot springs with long tendrils of lazy steam rising from them. The fauna around each spring was lusher than anywhere else, I noticed, looking healthy and well-nourished as the leaves and grasses shone with wetness. At first, I thought the hissing sound came from the springs, but then I realized it was coming from farther to the north.
The rain that continued to fall was light and surprisingly warm as I stooped down and dipped my hand tentatively in and out of one of the springs. I had expected the water to be scalding hot and was surprised at the pleasant warmness. I stood and looked up. I could see far above that the snow was still falling, but the heat rising from the many springs guaranteed it would never reach the valley floor as anything but gentle rain. The rocks along the valley walls were dark and dripping rainwater above me, but after about two hundred feet, I could see the telltale glimmer of ice beginning to form here and there. Even if we wanted to try climbing out, I knew it would be impossible.
The Wolf On The Run (The Wolf of Corwick Castle Book 3) Page 27
