“What? Faint like a …” Probably best not to say “little girl” to her. “Sure. How long was I out?”
She shrugged. “It’s hard to tell down here, but I’d guess near daybreak.”
All afternoon and through the night? “But I didn’t dream.” What did that mean? Was Ashley okay?
“I felt the same pulses we’ve been sensing,” Lainey said, “but you didn’t respond to them.”
What had caused him to pass out? And why hadn’t he dreamed to Ashley?
His head hurt too much to think, so he had Lainey steep a tea with honeybud leaves and throw in a bit of frogtoe root extract for good measure. He closed his eyes to let the medicine take effect. “Where are the guys?”
“Dylan’s checking on the horses, and Brant’s exploring the cave. They should be back soon.”
They lapsed into a comfortable silence until approaching footsteps crunched from deeper in the cavern. Xan’s head still throbbed, but he sat up.
A tiny tip of light appeared and grew larger until Brant, holding a torch, marched into range of the campfire. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to handle seeing a bear but really? Fainting like a little …” He looked at Lainey with a stricken expression.
“Collapsing is obviously a side effect of the magic,” Xan said. “Probably due to overexertion. I almost passed out at the big tree, and both Lainey and I felt dizzy yesterday after straining to keep those fires going.”
Brant shook his head. “Weak excuse, man. Just weak.”
“We thought something bad might be wrong with you,” Lainey said.
“Well, we know there’s something wrong with you. She means health-wise.”
“Nothing to worry about.” Xan smiled, wishing he were as confident as he sounded.
They were manipulating powerful forces without any real knowledge. If the magic could cause him to pass out, could it kill him? And he had no idea why he hadn’t dreamed.
More distant scuffling on gravel cut off his worrying. Torch light appeared, followed by Dylan. Brant caught him up on Xan’s condition and concluded by asking about the weather.
Dylan looked grim. “The storm’s still dumping snow.”
Even Xan knew what that meant. The accumulation from a blizzard for almost a full day meant they’d never get through the passes. They were trapped.
“There’s no guarantee it’s the catcher on the trail behind us.” Brant’s comment was half hearted at best.
“Even if, by some miracle, it’s not him,” Xan said, “we’ve used too much magic. We’d never make the cutoff for the low road before he got there.”
Dylan, his eyes wild with fear, fidgeted and kept looking back over his shoulder. “Can we sneak past them?”
Brant shook his head. “They’re professionals who will be watching for us. I might make it past them, but the rest of you …” He paused, looking at each of them, letting the significance soak in. “I don’t see any choice but to fight.”
“We are not going to hurt those men.” Lainey snarled.
Brant huffed. “Lainey—”
“No. Put it out of your mind.”
“But—”
“No!”
Xan cleared his throat. “I agree with her. I can’t let the three of you risk your lives any more than you already have.”
“What do we do, then, genius?” Brant said.
Xan hunched his shoulders. They weren’t going to like his plan. “I surrender to Justav. Take Honey and go meet them. Once they have me, they’ll forget about you three.”
“No, Xan! You are not going to give yourself up.” Lainey wiped at her eyes. “Even if you did …” Her voice choked, and she buried her face in her hands.
Xan didn’t understand why she was being so irrational. If they couldn’t go back and they couldn’t fight and he couldn’t surrender, what could they do?
They lapsed into a tense silence.
Xan shifted his body and something in his pants’ pocket dug into his thigh. The carving. Ashley. Against all odds, he’d found a girl who seemed to like him. A beautiful, extraordinary girl. Was it too much to ask that he live to meet her outside a dream?
How could he let a little bad weather keep him from her?
Stupid question! Blizzards were nothing to take lightly in the mountains. Good, hardy farmers from Eagleton had perished from not respecting a winter storm. If experienced men who had braved the elements their entire lives hadn’t been able to succeed, how could four teenagers?
But they weren’t just four teenagers. They were two alchemists, a masser, and a potential kineticist.
“We go forward,” Xan said.
“I told you. There’s no way we’re making it through the mountains in this weather,” Brant said. “Trying to fight the guardsmen, or sneak around them, might be deadly, but I know the passes will be.”
“I’m not disputing you.” Xan smiled. “We go through the cave.”
They all looked at him like he’d lost his mind, and he widened his smile as he turned to Dylan. “I recall a story you told us a couple of years ago about a merchant who found a way through, one horses can travel.”
“You’d stake our lives on a rumor?”
“There’s no truth to it?”
Dylan shrugged. “It’s said he was in Eagleton one day and in Ravledale ten days later. The passes were snowed in. That’s a minimum of a three week trip by the low road.”
Xan nodded. “So it’s probable the route exists.”
“If it does, and that’s a big if, how can we find it?” Dylan said. “People have died after getting lost in here.”
Xan smirked. “Did any of them have a masser to guide the way?”
Brant’s eyes widened. “What?”
“You can find the way through like you found our way here.” Xan turned to Lainey and Dylan. “While he maps the cave, we need to get more firewood, and we shouldn’t let all that fresh meat go to waste.”
“Maps?” Brant said.
Xan grinned. His friend detested nothing more than any kind of work requiring paper and ink. “Explore the cave using magic. Find us a route.”
“Do you have any idea how hard that will be?”
Xan pointed deep into the cave. “It’s got to be in that direction. We haven’t passed any offshoots large enough for horses yet. Explore each branch. The trick is to be meticulous and systematic.” After explaining how to use magic to accomplish the task, he tried to get up, but his leg cramped, causing him to collapse back to the ground.
“You stay right here,” Lainey told Xan. “I’ll get the paper and ink, and while Brant draws, Dylan can butcher the bear. I’ll gather the firewood.”
“Absolutely not!” Xan winced at the wave of pain caused by his shout. “It’s too dangerous outside for you.”
“Somebody has to get firewood,” she said, “and it doesn’t make sense for me to sit around doing nothing.”
“You can help Dylan.”
“I’m not going to cut up that poor animal. We have to use the skin and meat since we killed it, but I’m not happy about it.”
Dylan raised a finger. “That poor—”
She glared at him, and he snapped his mouth shut.
“You’re not going alone,” Xan said.
“You can barely move, and everyone else has a job.” Lainey put her hand on his shoulder. “I’ll take your cloak for extra warmth, and if I get lost, I’ll sense this fire.”
“What happens if you get hurt? We’ll never find you.”
“If I’m not back in a couple of hours, search for a fire near here. That’s how I’ll signal you.”
“I still don’t like it.” Xan thrust out his hand to forestall her response. “Don’t. I know I’m not going to win this one.” He glanced at the burning campfire. “That should burn for several hours, more than enough time. Fix it in your mind.”
Though he knew she tried, she didn’t quite keep the triumph out of her smile. “See you soon.”
As she disappeared
through the narrow passage heading toward to the cave’s opening, Xan laid back and closed his eyes.
25.
Lainey trudged through the tunnel toward the cave mouth.
Sure, she’d gather firewood in a blizzard. No problem. What was she thinking?
Unfortunately, she knew exactly what drove her. When Brant jumped off a cliff, she followed whether he meant for her to or not. When Xan shortened his strides so she could keep up, she jogged ahead of him. When Dylan decided they all needed ridiculous matching hats and tried to buy hers, she forked over her hard-earned money in spite of his protests.
They’d never accept her as anything other than the little sister as long as she kept trying so hard. She should just do her own thing. Be confident. Hard advice to follow in the heat of the moment even when she knew she’d regret it later.
Frigid wind, funneled through the narrow opening, hit her, and she shivered. The miniscule flame on the end of the stick flickered. Should she add more magic? No. Better to save her strength. She’d need all her power when she left the relative warmth of the cave.
Ominous shadows cast by the torch danced across the stone. A shape to her right became the guardsman’s body. Gleaming moisture to the left reminded her of the life fading from his eyes. The wail of the wind turned into cries for mercy.
How could she have slain a man? Did he have a wife? Children? What if she found them and begged forgiveness? Paid reparations?
But money didn’t provide comfort. Or love. It couldn’t keep a daughter warm on a cold night, and it certainly wouldn’t provide Lainey atonement.
She had to do something to set things right. Keeping Xan and Brant from fighting guardsmen was a good start. Without her, surely they’d have killed, so each one they didn’t was one she’d saved. How many would be enough?
No amount could possibly be enough. But it was something. When one couldn’t do everything, it was good enough that you did something. Right?
She set her eyes straight ahead and covered her ears with her scarf.
With each of her steps, the tunnel’s confines offered less protection from the cold. She pulled Xan’s cloak, wrapped around hers, closer. When she reached the cavern exit, she shielded her face from the bite of the icy weather.
Despite Dylan’s report not an hour before, Lainey had held out hope that the storm would be over, that the morning sun would shine over pristine layers of white. Instead, a howling fury blotted the sky with sheets of snow. Even with the shelter provided by the overhang and walls at the cave mouth, strong gusts buffeted her and sliced through the cloaks like daggers of ice.
The horses neighed and stamped at each blast, and she considered leaving Cuppy behind, hating the thought of exposing the mare to more of the elements. But how could she carry enough wood back on her own?
A small grove they’d passed lay only a couple hundred yards down the slope—a couple hundred yards covered in deep snow. If one of the boys had suggested they descend a steep slope in such conditions, she’d have called him an idiot. A slip could mean a sprain or broken bone or worse.
Even if by some miracle she made it down unscathed, how would she find the trees? The storm limited visibility to a dozen yards tops, and fresh powder covered their tracks from earlier. Which way was it? Starting a little off at the top could put her too far off course to find the grove at the bottom.
Lainey shook her head. They needed the firewood. She’d do her part. Somehow.
After readying Cuppy, she warmed herself with her little flame and stared at the swirl of snowflakes. The boys were counting on her. She breathed deeply, steeling herself for the maelstrom.
With a last appreciative glance at the protective surroundings, she stepped into the mound of snow gathered along the boundary of the overhang. Her foot sank past the top of her boot, dampening her pant leg.
Flakes hissed and sizzled as they hit her flame. She barely noticed them as she trudged down the hill, pulling her reticent horse. Each speck of water only drew the tiniest bit of magic, but thousands of pinprick drains on the energy she poured into the fire took their toll.
Spots swam before her eyes.
Lainey couldn’t risk collapsing like Xan. Lying unconscious in a blizzard was a good way to lose a limb to frostbite or to end up dead. She let go of her connection.
Empty. Powerless.
For an instant, the flame clung to the wood, raising her hopes that it had a chance of staying lit without her adding energy. But after a few moments, the steady beating of ice-cold water overwhelmed the flickering fire. Why hadn’t she brought an oil-soaked rag or heated a rock for her pocket?
Lainey shivered and stuck her useless stick in a pocket of Xan’s cloak. The cold burned the skin around her eyes and her nose. She hunched her head to protect her face from the wind.
Plowing ahead, she slogged down the slope. The constant strain of raising her feet from the depths of the snow caused her calf muscles to burn even as the cold penetrated her boots. Fighting to make Cuppy follow after her added to her exhaustion. After a half hour, her breath came in ragged spurts, and she was forced to stop for a rest.
She looked back. The cave mouth had disappeared into the icy turmoil. Nothing but gray-white oblivion lay before and behind her. No landmarks. Her tracks quickly filled as the wind shifted piles of snow.
The smart move would be to turn back. But it wasn’t in her to give up. If only they’d packed snowshoes.
Numb hands hurt, and icy daggers transformed into chill swords slicing her bones. Would she ever reach the stupid trees? Was she even heading the right direction? Even sensing Xan’s campfire deep inside the twisting cave, could she find her way back?
After another half hour of trudging down the slope, a boulder shaped remarkably like an elephant caught her eye. She would have remembered the distinctive rock had she seen it on the way to the cave. That clinched it; she was lost.
Lainey stopped and turned in a complete circle. Nothing gave her any indication of which way to the grove. She should head back to the cave and get warm. Admit defeat. Tell the boys she needed their help.
Never.
She adjusted her course to travel laterally across the mountain. The unvarying elevation increased her confidence, and she relaxed her grip on the horse. As she stepped quickly, her leg sank until her mid-calf was level with the top of the snow. Her foot found a buried stone.
The rock shifted, and her ankle popped. Burning pain, worse than a mule kick, hit her, and her fist released unbidden from Cuppy’s reins.
She pitched forward.
An icy mound swallowed her extended arms and blacked out her vision. Piles of white collapsed. The world shifted, and her stomach lurched.
Her mind reeled in shock and confusion as she realized she hadn’t yet hit the ground. Frozen hands thrashed, trying to arrest her fall. They found nothing.
The snow’s teeth bit her face as she plunged into a chasm of ice and darkness. She tumbled, disoriented, until her chest slammed into something hard, stealing her breath.
Lainey slid downward and jagged rocks tore at her body. Her speed increased. Something smashed her head. Blinding pain. She thrust her hands in front of her for protection.
With a bone-jarring thud to her arm, she jolted to a stop. She hung upside down for a moment. A ledge.
Ice had wormed its way inside her clothes and chewed her skin. The arm crumpled, and the world shifted again. She slammed into an anvil of rock, her body losing the contest.
Tremors racked her, and she huddled in a fetal position. Tears froze to her face. Wordless agony overwhelmed her thoughts.
She didn’t know how much time passed before she forced herself back to alertness, but the cold had grown almost unbearable. A singular purpose consumed her—starting a fire so Xan could find her.
Her stick lost, she concentrated on a portion of her cloak, but she couldn’t stop shivering long enough to connect to the magic. Fatigue overwhelmed her.
Determined, she implored
the magic to come to her, but the cold drew all her attention. Not having a nearby flame to focus on hurt her efforts to concentrate on fire. Sleep beckoned her.
Her task seemed impossible, but she didn’t give up. Finally, after what seemed like a hundred attempts, she found the connection.
Light. Blast it! C’mon flame! Nothing happened.
She experienced the euphoria of connecting to the magic. Power waited, ready and wanting to be used. Her focus acted as a lens to direct the energy. Everything was in order.
Her ability simply wasn’t strong enough to overcome the wet and the cold. Regardless of how much she implored the fire to appear, it wouldn’t.
All her hopes rested on success. Rescue. Warmth. Life.
The failure left her dejected, and her hope faded. Sleep’s siren call sang to her.
She’d close her eyes for a moment. Rest. Regain her strength. Just a few minutes …
26.
Dylan had never skinned anything bigger than a squirrel. How did he get stuck with field dressing a bear?
He circled the carcass.
Fantastic. No way to get near the thing without getting blood all over his boots. And the smell. Singed hair and charred meat. Yay.
His stomach churned.
What a mess. Even if he managed to not lose his breakfast, there was no way his clothes were going to survive.
Lainey went for a stroll. Xan napped. Brant daydreamed.
Dylan narrowed his eyes. Why was he the only one working? Blasted magic.
Keeping his trousers as far away as possible, he bent and slid his knife under the bear’s pelt. A red spray of sickening, thick goo squirted.
Not far enough. His pants had cost him three silver. He was going to kill Xan.
Dylan nodded. As he should have let the catcher do.
Didn't the others understand the kingdoms' revulsion toward magic users? Granted, Vierna had made allowances under Duke Asher, but really?
A catcher traveling with so many guardsmen should have been the toast of local politicians and extended every courtesy. Even if some mage hunters abused their position, they served as an important protection against the chaos of rule by any who happened to be born strong enough to seize it.
Rise of the Mages (Rise of the Mages 2) Page 12
