The History of Krynn: Vol III

by Dragon Lance

  For a moment, Sithas raised his eyes to the ledge across the valley. The ewes scampered upward, while the ram lingered behind, staring back at the elf who had claimed one of his flock. Sithas felt a momentary sense of gratitude to the creature. His heart filled with admiration as he saw it bound higher and higher up the sheer slope.

  Finally he reached down and gutted the carcass of his kill. The climb back to Kith-Kanan would be a tough one, he knew, but suddenly his body thrummed with excitement and energy.

  Behind him, atop the ridge, the ram cast one last glance downward and then disappeared.

  Chapter 13

  FRESH BLOOD

  Sithas cut a slice of meat from his kill on the valley floor, tearing bites from the raw meat, uncaring of the blood that dribbled across his chin. Smacking greedily, he wolfed down the morsel before he carried the rest of the carcass up the steep trail to their ledge. He found Kith-Kanan as still as when he had left him, but now, at least, they had food – they had hope!

  The lack of fire created a drawback, but it didn’t prevent Sithas from devouring a large chunk of meat as soon as he got it back to the ledge. The blood, while it was still warm, he dribbled into his unconscious brother’s mouth, hoping that the warmth and nourishment might have a beneficial effect, however minimal.

  Finally sated, Sithas settled back to rest. For the first time in days, he felt something other than bleak despair. He had stalked his game and slain it – something he had never done before, not without beaters and weapon-bearers and guides. Only his brother’s condition cast a pall over the situation.

  For two more days, Kith’s condition showed no signs of change. Gray clouds rolled in, and a dusting of snow fell around them. Sithas trickled more of the ewe’s blood into Kith’s mouth, hiked down for water several times a day, and offered prayers to Quenesti Pah.

  Then, toward sunset of their seventh day on the ledge, Kith groaned and moved. His eyes fluttered open and he looked around in confusion.

  “Kith! Wake up!” Sithas leaned over his twin, and slowly Kith-Kanan’s eyes met his own. At first they looked dull and lifeless, but even as Sithas watched they grew brighter, more alert.

  “What – how did you —?”

  Sithas felt weak with relief and helped his brother to sit up. “It’s OK, Kith. You’ll be all right!” He forced more confidence into his tone than he actually felt.

  Kith’s eyes fell upon the carcass, which Sithas had perched near the precipice. “What’s that?”

  “Mountain sheep!” Sithas grinned proudly. “I killed it a few days ago. Here, have some!”

  “Raw?” Kith-Kanan raised his eyebrows but quickly saw that there was no alternative. He took a tender loin portion and tore off a piece of meat. It was no delicacy, but it was sustenance. As he chewed, he saw Sithas watching him like a master chef savoring the reaction to a new recipe.

  “It’s good,” Kith-Kanan said, swallowing and tearing off another mouthful.

  Excitedly Sithas told him of stalking his prey – about his two wasted arrows and the lucky break that helped him make his kill.

  Kith chuckled with a heartiness that belied his wounds and their predicament.

  “Your leg,” Sithas said concernedly. “How does it feel today?”

  Kith groaned and shook his head. “Need a cleric to work on it. I doubt it’ll heal enough to carry me.”

  Sithas sat back, suddenly too tired to go on. Alone, he might be able to walk out of these mountains, but he didn’t see any way that Kith-Kanan could even get down from this exposed, perilous ledge.

  For a while, the brothers sat in silence, watching the sun set. The sky domed over them, pale blue to the east and overhead but fading to a rose hue that blended into a rich lavender along the western ridge. One by one stars winked into sight. Finally darkness crept across the sky, expanding from the east to overhead, then pursuing the last lingering strips of brightness into the west.

  “Any sign of Arcuballis?” asked Kith hopefully. His brother shook his head sadly.

  “What do we do now?” Sithas asked.

  To his dismay, his brother shook his head in puzzlement. “I don’t know. I don’t think I can get down from here, and we can’t finish our quest on this ledge.”

  “Quest?” Sithas had almost forgotten about the mission that had brought them to these mountains. “You’re not suggesting we still seek out the griffons, are you?”

  Kith smiled, albeit wanly. “No, I don’t think we can do much searching. You, however, might have a chance.”

  Now Sithas gaped at his twin. “And leave you here alone? Don’t even think about it!”

  The wounded elf gestured to stem Sithas’s outburst. “We have to think about it.”

  “You won’t have a chance up here! I won’t abandon you!”

  Kith-Kanan sighed. “Our chances aren’t that great any way you look at it.

  Getting out of these mountains on foot is out of the question until spring. And the months of deep winter are still before us. We can’t just sit here, waiting for my leg to heal.”

  “But what kind of progress can I make on foot?” Sithas gestured to the valley walls surrounding them.

  Kith-Kanan pointed to the northwest, toward the pass that had been their goal before the storm had driven them to this ledge. The gap between the two towering summits was protected by a steep slope, strewn with large boulders and patches of scree. Strangely, snow had not collected there.

  “You could investigate the next valley,” the elf suggested. “Remember, we’ve explored much of the range already.”

  “That’s precious little comfort,” Sithas replied. “We flew over the mountains before. I’m not even sure I could climb that pass, let alone explore beyond it.”

  Kith-Kanan studied the steep slope with a practiced eye. “Sure you could. Go up on the big rocks off to the side there. Stay away from those smooth patches. They look like easy going, but it’s sure to be loose scree. You’d probably slip back farther than you climbed with each step. But if you stay on the good footing, you could make it.”

  The wounded elf turned his eyes upon his skeptical brother and continued.

  “Even if you don’t find the griffons, perhaps you’ll locate a cave, or better yet some herdsman’s hut. Whatever lies over that ridge, it can’t be any more barren than this place.”

  The Speaker of the Stars squatted back on his haunches, shaking his head in frustration. He had looked at the pass himself over the last few days and privately had decided that he would probably be able to climb it. But he had never considered the prospect of going without his brother.

  Finally he made a decision. “I’ll go – but just to have a look. If I don’t see anything, I’m coming straight back here.”

  “Agreed.” Kith-Kanan nodded. “Now maybe you can hand me another strip of lamb – only this time, I’d like it cooked a little more on the rare side. That last piece was too well done for my taste.”

  Laughing, Sithas used his dagger to carve another strip of raw mutton. He had found that by slicing it very thin he could make the meat more palatable – at least, more easily chewed. And though it was still cold, it tasted very, very good.

  *

  Kith-Kanan sat up, leaning against the back wall of the ledge, and watched Sithas gather his equipment. It was nearly dawn. “Take some of my arrows,” he offered, but Sithas shook his head.

  “I’ll leave them with you, just in case.”

  “In case of what? In case that ram comes looking for revenge?”

  Suddenly uncomfortable, Sithas looked away. They both knew that if the hill giants returned, Kith-Kanan would be helpless to do more than shoot a few arrows before he was overcome.

  “Kith …” He wanted to tell his brother that he wouldn’t leave him, that he would stay at his side until his wounds had healed.

  “No!” The injured elf raised a hand, anticipating his brother’s objections. “We both understand – we know that this is the only thing to do.”

/>   “I – I suppose you’re right.”

  “You know I’m right!” Kith’s voice was almost harsh.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Sithas – be careful.”

  The Speaker of the Stars nodded dumbly. It made him feel like a traitor to leave his brother like this.

  “Good luck, Brother.” Kith’s voice came to Sithas softly, and he turned back.

  They clasped hands, and then Sithas leaned forward to embrace his brother.

  “Don’t run off on me,” he told Kith, with a wry smile.

  An hour later, he was past the water hole, where he had stopped to refill his skin. Now the pass loomed before him like an icy palisade – the castle wall of some unimaginably monstrous giant. Carefully, still some distance away from the ascent, he selected a route up the slope. He stopped to rest several times before reaching the base, but before noon, he began the rugged climb.

  All the time he remained conscious of Kith-Kanan’s eyes on his back. He looked behind him occasionally, until his brother became a faint speck on the dark mountain wall. Before he started up the pass, he waved and saw a tiny flicker of motion from the ledge as Kith waved back.

  The pass, up close, soared upward and away from him like a steep castle wall, steeper than it had looked from the safe distance of their campsite. The base was a massive, sloping pile of talus – great boulders that, over many centuries, had been pried loose by frost or water to tumble and crash down the mountainside. Now they teetered precariously on top of each other, and powdery snow filled the gaps between them.

  Sithas strung his bow across his back, next to his sword. His cloak he removed and tied around his waist, hoping to maintain full freedom of movement.

  He picked his way up the talus slope, stepping from rock to rock only after testing each foothold for security. Once several rocks tumbled away beneath him, and he sprang aside just in time. Always he gained altitude, pulling himself up the sheer face with his leather-gloved hands. Sweat dripped into his eyes, and for a moment, he wondered how, in the midst of this snow-swept landscape, could he get so Abyss-cursed hot? Then a swirl of icy wind struck him, penetrating his damp tunic and leggings and bringing an instant shiver to his bones.

  Soon he reached the top. Here he encountered long stretches of loose scree, small stones that seemed to slip and slide beneath each footfall, carrying him backward four feet for every five of progress.

  Kith-Kanan, of course, had been right. He was always right! His brother knew his way around in country like this, knew how to survive and even how to move and explore, to hunt and find shelter.

  Why couldn’t it have been Sithas to suffer the crippling injury? A healthy Kith-Kanan would have been able to care for both of them, Sithas knew.

  Meanwhile, he wrestled with overwhelming despair and hopelessness, and he was not yet out of sight of their base camp!

  Shaking off his self-pity, Sithas worked his way sideways, toward steeper, but more solid, shoulders of bedrock. Once his feet slipped away, and he tumbled twenty or thirty feet down the slope, only stopping himself by digging his hands and feet into the loose surface. Cursing, he checked his weapons, relieved to find them intact. Finally he reached a solid rock, with a small shelf shaped much like a chair, where he collapsed in exhaustion.

  A quick look upward showed that he had made it perhaps a quarter of the way up the slope. At this rate, he would be stranded here at nightfall, a prospect that terrified him more than he wanted to contemplate.

  Resolutely he started upward again, this time climbing along rough outcrops of rock. After only a few moments, he realized that this was by far the easiest climbing yet, and his spirits rose rapidly.

  Stepping upward in long strides, he relished a new sense of accomplishment.

  The valley floor fell away below him; the heavens – and more mountains – beckoned from above. He no longer felt the need for rest. Instead, the climb seemed to energize him.

  By midafternoon, he had neared the top of the pass, and here the route narrowed challengingly. Two huge boulders teetered on the slope, with but a narrow crack of daylight between them. One, or both, could very easily roll free, carrying him back down the mountainside if they didn’t crush him between them first.

  No other route presented itself. To either side of the massive rocks, sheer cliffs soared upward to the pinnacles of the two mountains. The only way through the pass lay between those two precarious boulders.

  He didn’t hesitate. He approached the rocks and saw that the gap was wide enough to allow him to pass – just barely. He entered the aperture, climbing upward across loose rock.

  Suddenly the ground beneath his feet slipped away, and his heart lurched. He felt one of the huge boulders shift with a menacing rumble. The rock walls to either side of him pressed closer, narrowing by an inch or so. Then the rock seemed to settle into place, and he felt no more movement.

  With a quick burst of speed, he darted upward, scrambling out of the narrow passage before the rocks could budge again. His momentum carried him farther up the last hundred yards of so of the ascent until finally he stood upon the summit of the pass.

  Trees! He saw patches of green among the snowfields, far, far below. Trees, which meant wood, which meant fire! The slope before him, while steep and long, was nowhere near as grueling as the one he had just climbed. He glanced over his left shoulder at the sun, estimating two remaining hours of daylight.

  It would have to be enough. He would have a fire tonight, he vowed to himself.

  He plunged recklessly downward, sometimes riding a small, tumbling pillow of snow, at other times leaping through great drifts to soft landings ten or fifteen feet below. Exhausted, sweat-soaked, and bone-weary, he finally reached a clump of gnarled cedars far down in the basin. Now, at last, his spirits soared. He used the last illumination of daylight to gather all of the dead limbs he could find. He piled the firewood before an unusually thick trio of evergreens, where he had decided to make his camp.

  A mere touch of his steel dagger to the flint he carried in his belt-pouch brought a satisfactory spark. The dry wood kindled instantly, and within minutes, he relished the comfort of a crackling blaze.

  *

  Was this the curse of the gods, thought Kith-Kanan, the punishment for his betrayal of his brother’s marriage? He leaned against the cliff wall and shut his eyes, wincing not in pain but in guilt. Why couldn’t he have simply died? That would have made things so much easier. Sithas would have been free to perform the quest instead of worrying about him like a nervous nursemaid worries about a feverish babe.

  In truth, Kith-Kanan felt more helpless than a crawling infant, for he didn’t have even that much mobility.

  He had watched Sithas make his way up the slope until his twin had disappeared from sight. His brother had moved with grace and power, surprising Kith with the speed of his ascent.

  But as long as Kith-Kanan lay here upon this ledge, he knew Sithas would be tied to this location by their bond of brotherhood. He would explore their immediate surroundings, perhaps, but would never bring himself to travel far beyond.

  All because I’m so damned stupid! Kith railed at himself. They had made inadequate preparations for attack! They had both dozed off. Only the sacrifice of brave Arcuballis had given the first warning of the hill giants.

  Now his griffon was gone, no doubt dead, and he himself was impossibly crippled. Sithas searched alone and on foot. It seemed inevitable to Kith-Kanan that their quest would be a failure.

  *

  Sithas dried his clothes and boots, every stitch of which had been soaked by sweat or melting snow, by the crackling fire. It brightened his night, driving back the high mountain darkness that had previously stretched to infinity on all sides, and it warmed his spirits in a way that he wouldn’t have thought possible a few hours earlier. The fire spoke to him with a soothing voice, and it danced for him in sultry allure. It was like a companion, one who could listen to his thoughts and give him p
leasure. And finally the fire allowed him to cook a strip of his frozen meat.

  That morsel, seared for a few minutes on a forked stick that Sithas plunged into the flames, emerged from the fire covered with ash, blackened and charred on the outside and virtually raw in the center. It was unseasoned, tough, imperfectly preserved … and it was unquestionably the most splendid meal that the elf had ever eaten in his life.

  The three pines served as a backdrop to his campsite. Sithas scraped away the small amount of snow here and cleared for himself a soft bed of pine needles. He stoked the fire until he had to back away from the blazing heat.

  That night he slept for a few hours, and then awoke to fuel his fire. A mountainous pile of coals radiated heat, and the ground provided a soft and comfortable cushion until the coming of dawn.

  Sithas arose slowly, reluctant to break the reverie of warmth and comfort. He cooked another piece of meat, more patiently this time, for breakfast. By the time he finished, sunlight was bathing the bowl-shaped depression around him in its brilliant light. He had made a decision.

  He would bring Kith-Kanan to this valley. He didn’t know how yet, but he was convinced that this was the best way to insure his brother’s recovery.

  His course plotted, he gathered up his few possessions and lashed them to his body. Next he took several minutes to gather a stack of firewood – light, sun-dried logs that would burn steadily. He trimmed the twigs off of these so that he could bundle them tightly together. This bundle he then lashed to his back.

  Finally he turned his face toward the pass. The slope before him still lay in shadow, as it would for most of the day. Retracing his tracks of the previous afternoon, he forced his way through the deep snow, back toward the summit of the pass.

  It took him all morning, but finally he reached the summit. He paused to rest – the climb had been extremely wearying – and sought out the speck of color that he knew would mark Kith-Kanan’s presence on the ledge in the distance. He had to squint, for the sunlight reflecting from the snow-filled bowl brutally assaulted his eyes.