Ancel stopped abruptly, the lump in the back of his mind spiking stronger than before. He glanced around at his surroundings. Something about the area clicked. The visions he witnessed through the link came again. He closed his eyes, taking in the mountains as Ryne tumbled down an embankment. Ancel snapped his eyes open. That one. He flapped his reins, heading toward the closest steep rise.
A sudden barking roar from Charra stopped him in his tracks.
There, at the bottom of the hill was Ryne, his Etchings giving off a soft glow.
Ancel couldn’t tell if his chest rose and fell. Nor could he make out the telltale mist from his nostrils or mouth. Before anyone uttered a word, he leapt from his saddle and stumbled through the thigh-high snow to Ryne’s prone form.
Ryne’s eyes fluttered open, and he gave a weak smile. “I overdid it again.”
“You aren’t wounded?”
“N-no. W-w-worse. C-c-cold. I used too much power. I had to in order to pull the vasumbrals away and make sure everyone escaped. I fractured my aura and one of them touched it, ate into my sela.”
Galiana and Mirza rode up alongside them.
Squinting, Galiana said, “We need to get him some place warm.”
Ancel barely heard the words as he delved into the Eye to study Ryne’s aura. He gasped as he did so. Mater rolled off the man in waves of color. Where an aura normally appeared as a solid shell around a living being, he discerned rents in Ryne’s. From those fissures, essences leaked in a grayish hue that at times grew darker before shining to near silver. Somehow, Ancel knew what they were.
Sela essences.
“I know where we are,” Mirza said. “This is one of the routes my father takes when we’re heading to the quarries or to Harval for mining supplies.” He pointed up the incline. “Not too far up the slope is one of the many caves in this area. We usually keep them stocked with wood and the like. The snows won’t be as deep either because of the way the ridges protect each lower one.”
“One problem,” Galiana said. “How are we going to get him up there if he cannot walk?”
“I–I can manage with Ancel’s help,” Ryne said, his voice a raspy whisper.
Ancel frowned.
“N-need,” Ryne said, his teeth chattering. “S-same as you used a-against the Knight and for the Chainin. Subm-m-it that need t-t-to the essences through your Et-etch-etch-ings. P-pic-picture what you nee-need and the Et-Etchings will grant it.” When he finished, Ryne’s chest labored as he sucked in great breaths. Steam spilled from his mouth and nostrils.
Ancel closed his eyes and reached to his Etchings. He pictured every intricate detail, each edge, the pictures of the sun’s searing flames, the soft glow from the twin moons, the earth below where they touched. What he craved was strength. He delved into the Eye and opened his Matersense. Immediately, the clamoring voices tried to overwhelm him, but he guided them down into the depths of the pool within the Eye and into his sela.
A contented sigh came from the voices. “What is it you need of us?” they said in a chorus.
Strength.
“Take it. It is yours, but remember this is a bargain. You take, we feed.”
You have all you need before you.
Their answer was a sudden surge of Form essences mingled with a bit of the Streams. He guided them into the Etchings. As soon as he did so, the intricate art along his arms writhed with life. Light filtered in to bond earth and metal together in a way that would put a mastersmith to shame, then that luminance diffused into its more potent form: energy. A heated blast rushed through him, snatching all sense of touch from his chest and arm. Almost involuntarily, his hand snaked out. Ryne’s fingers engulfed his arm. With an effortless snap of his wrist and forearm, Ancel swung Ryne around, plowing through snow as if the deep drifts and Ryne’s body were weightless. He faced uphill. A gasp from Mirza and a hiss from Galiana reminded him they were still present.
“Lead on,” Ancel said.
Mirza eyed him and Ryne before he nodded and headed up the incline. Behind them, Galiana guided the three horses.
Not sparing a moment to contemplate all he’d done, Ancel dragged Ryne through the snow, the giant a pin weight on his arm. Up ahead, a path cleared before Charra.
Deep in his Matersense, Ancel gaped at the elemental bursts flying from Charra. The snow and ice melted like a hot knife through butter. Where Charra found such heat in the freezing cold was beyond him.
While Charra’s clearing did help, it created another problem. The ground was becoming slick with mud. On several occasions, Ancel slipped, and as they worked their way higher, the more treacherous the path became. He wanted to check on Ryne, but he needed all his focus to maintain his footing. Slowly, he also grew colder. Without the ability to bundle himself up, his arms and legs soon went from tingling with cold to outright numbness. If not for his scarf and hood, he may not have been able to feel his ears or his nose. Ice clogged the cloth at his mouth.
Need. The word surged through him. He needed warmth if he was to continue dragging Ryne to safety without the protection of his furs for himself. His wish communicated itself to his Etchings and the drawing of the sun twitched as if it wanted to walk off his skin. Warmth rolled through his body.
Head down, Mirza leveled off as they crested the foothill and reached the Red Ridge Mountains proper. When Ancel gained the same expanse, he spared Ryne a glance. His mentor’s eyes were closed, but he did appear to breath evenly.
Ancel let his shoulders relax as he took in their surroundings. The clouds had finally given up their fight with the moons. Silver-blue illuminated the rest of the way, allowing the mountains to throw their shadows out across the land in a vast shroud. Whereas the ground before rose in gradual inclines, here, the walls shot up before them, cliff-like, glittering with thousand-foot long icy teeth. The phenomenon continued up the mountain.
As he was about to voice the opinion that there was no way he could drag Ryne farther up, Mirza pointed and led them alongside the steep slope. The deep shadows had hidden a wide path free of precipitation. A glance up revealed why.
Above them, an overhang protected this shelf of land-the ridges after which the mountains gained their name. They spanned to overhangs, each jutting out farther than the one below it, protecting each in turn. Out into open space was a set of the icy teeth. He realized then what it was: a frozen waterfall cascading off the ridge above.
The view to the land below was breathtaking. For miles, moonlight illuminated the plains and hills in a mosaic of white, silver, blue tints, and shadow. Whiteness still wreathed the area where Eldanhill should have been. A glow lit the clouds in the town’s vicinity.
“In here,” Mirza called, his voice echoing. His head popped out from the dark moments later. “We’ll be safe for now.”
Ancel squinted. The darkness became a wide cave mouth. He let out a long exhale and dragged Ryne’s prone form inside. Darkness swallowed him.
Strong odors of wet earth and mustiness filled his nostrils. From a few feet away came a shuffling and Mirza’s muttered curses. Running water gurgled nearby. A sudden flash of light filled the interior, and he averted his eyes. As his sight adjusted, he took in his surroundings.
The ground was worn smooth from use. What appeared to be old clothes were piled near the blackened embers of a firepit. A small waterfall cascaded from an outcrop at the back of the cave, the falling water pouring into a stream that ran past them into a small clear pool before continuing into darkness.