‘At this pace, I don’t know. I can’t send fliers up, it’s too windy and the updraughts here are horrible to negotiate.’
‘Have you been up here before?’ asked Auum.
‘Often,’ said Stein. ‘I’ve walked this ridge before, but it never seemed so long and I always chose a fine day in the middle of summer when the snow is a mere memory at this height.’
‘What is there at the end of the ridge?’
‘Shelter of a sort. There’s an overhang and a rock shelf facing east so we can be out of the worst of the wind. Going to have to huddle close together tonight.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me it would be like this?’
‘I did, Auum. Didn’t change anything, though, did it?’
Auum shook his head. ‘And what happens after that? Where do we go next?’
Stein had the good grace to look a little sheepish as he replied. ‘I’ve never gone any further. The path to Wesman territory has never appealed.’
‘But your fliers. .’ said Auum, feeling suddenly vulnerable and utterly responsible for those he had talked into coming up here.
‘They haven’t been able to scout routes because of the wind. We need it to drop.’
Auum felt a different sort of chill. ‘You’re saying there may not be a way on and down?’
‘That’s the way of the Blackthornes, and it’s a good job too or the Wesmen could march armies over them.’
‘And what if we can’t find a route?’
Stein shrugged. ‘Then we will have to turn back.’
Auum put his face to the wind once again and pushed on a little bit faster.
‘That is not going to happen,’ he muttered, then he roared at the blank face of the mountains ahead of him. ‘Do you hear me? You will not beat me! As Yniss is my witness and my god, you will not stand in my way!’
The mountains said nothing but the wind blew harder, throwing his words back in his face, taunting him with the promise of more ice. Auum flexed his hands and pressed them into his armpits. It made no difference. He wondered if he’d ever be able to feel them again.
They had run far and fast, across hill and through valley past farmstead and hamlet by night and by day only to find this. Gilderon knelt in the midst of the ash and wept for the fallen while his Senserii spread through the carnage, trying to understand what had happened and how many had perished.
That all the dead here were elven was not in doubt. The weapons and buckles that had survived the inferno were unmistakable. Here and there some bones remained, but of the flesh and blood there was nothing at all. There were also bolts from cartwheels and part of one axle too.
‘This can’t be all of them,’ he whispered. ‘Yniss forgive me but I must pray that Auum at least has survived.’
‘Gilderon.’
‘Helodian,’ said Gilderon, looking up. ‘Speak.’
‘This was not their last stand. We found tracks leading into the foothills and Teralion has found bodies laid out for reclamation. The tracks head on towards the mountains. Cordolan is following them. It is clear a good number survived, though the ground makes it impossible to count how many.’
Gilderon felt a measure of relief. ‘There’s something else?’
‘Yes, there are cart and horse tracks heading away from here back towards Julatsa. Four horses, two pulling the cart, which was well laden, hopefully with survivors. The age of the tracks means we only just missed them. I put us less than a day behind any survivors.’
Gilderon saw a movement out of the corner of his eye and stood, gazing towards nearby woodlands. A shape shot out of them, soaring high into the sky. Another followed. More figures moved out on foot.
‘We’ve been seen,’ he said. ‘Senserii, at the ready.’
‘Humans,’ said Helodian. ‘Murderers. Tracks lead to and from the wood and into the foothills. They did this.’
‘They are fighting a war much like those at the Manse, assuming they are of the same college. What was its name?’
‘Xetesk,’ said Helodian.
The mages on wings came closer, hovering about twenty feet in the air and the same distance away. One said something Gilderon couldn’t understand though its tone suggested it was a question. Gilderon was silent and the mage repeated the question, this time in a more strident tone.
Gilderon pointed at him. ‘Xetesk?’ he asked.
The mage nodded. Gilderon hefted his staff and threw it in one smooth motion. The weapon flew straight, its blade catching a glint of sunlight before it struck the mage’s chest and he fell to the ground with a gasp. The other mage shot skywards and backwards shouting, presumably, for help.
Gilderon ran to the fallen mage, who was lying on his back. The ikari had fallen from his body. Gilderon picked it up. He spoke knowing the human couldn’t understand him.
‘You are guilty before the eyes of Shorth for the elves you killed here. Shorth is a god of great mercy, but not for you. I send you to him and your pleadings will not avail you.’
Gilderon jabbed his ikari blade into the mage’s eye, piercing his brain and killing him instantly. He pulled it clear and wiped the gore on the mage’s clothing. Looking up, he saw the humans massing and coming at them hard.
‘We can’t take them all,’ he said. ‘Where is Cordolan?’
Helodian pointed at a figure sprinting down the side of a low hill, heading towards them on a wide angle to avoid the human advance. Gilderon nodded.
‘Good. Let’s lose them. Senserii, we will run till dusk.’
And at dusk, hidden in a small copse, they chose their path and reaffirmed their faith and loyalty. Cordolan spoke first.
‘The survivors went up the walls. Some didn’t make it. There are bodies, burned and broken, abandoned to rot at the base of the mountain. But some must have escaped or why are the humans here still?’
Gilderon nodded. ‘Helodian, you are ill at ease. Speak.’
‘What we saw today. . the ash and the strength of the human forces still at the site. . we can’t defeat that sort of force alone. We don’t know how many of Auum’s people have survived and we can’t follow them over the mountain. We are many things but we are not climbers.’
Gilderon nodded. ‘I understand. And are we all feeling the same unease, as if our path has been muddied and we must seek a new one if we are to help in this fight?’
Every mouth issued words of assent.
‘Then I can offer you comfort,’ said Gilderon. ‘We need answers, so it is the cart and horses we have to find. We’ll pick up their tracks in the morning, though I assume they are returning to Julatsa. Then we’ll know how many are still travelling in the mountains, and finally we must make obeisance to our master and seek forgiveness for our lack of loyalty and attention. We deserted him and we must make recompense for our error.’
Their faces brightened and he smiled, pleased they all wanted what he had desired ever since they had left Takaar.
The Senserii slept and Gilderon kept watch. The words were easy but the task was not. Easy to say they would seek Takaar’s forgiveness. But he was not as he had once been, and his reaction, when they returned, might not be one they would survive. Still, they had to try. They needed him and he needed them. Gilderon prayed he did, anyway.
They made it to the overhang with night almost full, and it was clear the weather would kill some during the night. It had closed in yet further and the snow fell in a thick mass of flakes that clung to the clothes and skin, blown on a mourning, howling wind that carried the voice of their deaths.
Hands were frozen, cut and blistered, boots were torn, and inside feet were ice and ankles swollen. Their faces, despite the coverings, were raw with the constant attrition of ice and wind, and their eyes were pained by the bright white, the only part of them wanting the blessed dark of night.
Auum tried as best he could to get the weakest of them into the centre of the group and pack others in around them to give them some warmth, but the cold seeped up through the stone on which they sat and the wind blew more snow around the sides of the wall at their backs.