Instead of turning toward the unbroken passage that led down the mountain, Blade set off in the opposite direction.
“I thought we were leaving the mountains,” Raven said, wading through a drift to keep up with his longer strides.
He slowed his pace to match hers. “We are. We’re going to descend from the other side.”
Her steps faltered. “But the world ends past the final summit.”
That was the common belief, and one the Godseekers perpetuated. There was a reason the Temple of Immortal Right was located so close to the goddesses’ boundary. They had no wish for ordinary people to find it. Only the goddesses’ chosen could enter, and even they could not cross.
Or so the Godseekers claimed. In Blade’s time at the temple, no one had ever tried.
“No one knows that for certain,” he said. “We’re going to find out.” She still seemed uncertain though, which was so out of character for her that he reached over to slide his fingers around the nape of her neck to draw her closer to him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead near her mass of unruly curls before releasing her. “You’ve faced demons in the demon boundary. The goddess boundary can’t possibly compare to that. And if it does, we’ll turn back.”
They pressed on until well into late afternoon. When they reached a small valley, burrowed between ragged cliffs and magnificent granite arches, they stopped. At the valley’s bottom, a deep blue lake bounded by sparse, bristlecone pines glistened in the fading remnants of the day. A thin sheet of ice adorned the lake’s center, encircled by open water. Wind, and the heat of the sun, had scrubbed the ground around it bare of all but a few patches of melting snow.
By the time they found a spot suitable for camp among the trees and tumbled boulders, Blade was far more exhausted than Raven seemed. He had not slept in almost two days. Time, too, had dulled his memories. He was less familiar with this part of the mountain range, and finding his way through it had proven a challenge.
Raven dropped her pack, then collected her bow and quiver of arrows. Her diamond eyes, filled with curiosity, were fastened on the lake.
“I’ll gather firewood,” she said.
As much as he would prefer otherwise, Blade did not intend to smother her. He could not let his worry overrule common sense. He just nodded and began erecting their shelter while she went off alone. But he did not like having her too far out of his reach, so he set a time limit. If she did not return within it, he would join her, and they could gather firewood together.
He explored the area surrounding the shelter while he waited, idly wondering what sort of wildlife existed here. The fresh water from the lake was an asset, but it also attracted other creatures, including wolven. They had been fortunate to avoid them at the higher elevations, partly thanks to the weather, but they had reached the far side of the mountain now and begun their descent into woodlands. They would need to take greater care against possible predators.
Blade crouched down, resting on his heels, and watched Raven as she skipped nimbly over puddles of melting snow to the edge of the lake. She seemed fascinated. Growing up on the edge of the desert, all that water would be novel to her, he supposed. It had been a long time for him, too, since he had seen so much of it, so he could well understand.
It was Raven who truly held his interest, however. She had thrown back her hood so that her curls bounced around her flushed cheeks, and she tucked one glove beneath her arm as she bent to touch the water’s surface with her bare fingertips. The heavy coat and thick trousers she wore were not flattering, but her natural grace was apparent in the lithe way she moved, and the delicate curves of her throat and wrist hinted at what was underneath.
She was not, Blade thought, the only one who appreciated beauty in its many forms. More often than not, she took his breath away. He’d never had anything of so much importance to protect.
And he had almost lost her today.
Her bow lay on the ground near her, within easy reach, and every once in a while she would look up at him, as if to make certain he was still there. The gesture warmed him, and most of the fatigue he had been fighting for the past few hours gradually sloughed away.
The bruise on her face from her father’s blow, visible even from this distance, continued to gnaw at his conscience. It should never have happened. If they could move out of the mountains and into a land protected from demons by the goddesses, he hoped Raven might be safe from them, too. If the land was as vast as the books he’d read promised, Justice would never be able to find her either. If he did, Blade could kill him and no one would ever know.
With a start, Blade realized how bright the future looked to him. How hopeful. And how foolish he was to be daydreaming when he should be focused on the present and its uncertainties.
A lone black crow burst into the air from the crown of one of the bristlecone pine trees a few hundred paces behind Raven. It circled, loudly scolding whatever had disturbed it.
Blade craned his neck but saw nothing amidst the trees. He straightened, stretching the kinks from his knees as he prepared to make his way to the lake. Raven’s time was up. It would be completely dark soon, and they needed that wood for the fire.
He began to pick through the broken chunks of rock and between the bony pines toward the water’s edge. Shadows moved across the ground, breaking free from the lingering path of the retreating sun, and headed for Raven, who had her back turned to him.
It was the position of the shadows’ movements in relation to the sun that first caught Blade’s eye, but it took a fraction of a second longer for his brain to process that what he saw was not normal.
He hooked his rifle from the sleeve slung across his back, then dropped to a knee and took aim at one of the shadows. As it drew closer to Raven it wavered, coalesced, and began to gain in substance until it took solid form. He sighted down the weapon’s barrel, his finger tightening on the trigger even as he shouted a warning.
“Raven, run!”
Chapter Thirteen
In the early light of morning, Justice watched from the courtyard training area as Creed left the temple through the front gate, headed in the opposite direction than the one he’d taken with Blade the night before.
It had been two days since the storm had passed. Time was now working against Justice.
He turned to Might. “Find out where he’s headed,” he said, his breath puffing in small clouds as he spoke. “And what he does when he gets there. Meet me back in Goldrush in two weeks.”
Might nodded. He knew better than to track an assassin too closely and would leave a few hours behind him.
While Might pursued Creed, Justice and Cage would track the assassin Blade. His footsteps from the previous night were already old, so they could leave at once. While Justice did not dare trail him too closely either, he did not want to lose him altogether.
They left their hross in the temple’s stable and began their trek across the mountain, making their exit from the side posterns through which Creed and Blade had left during the night. Cage was the best tracker Justice knew, and the footsteps in the broken snow were plain to see, yet he complained more than once that Justice was following with his hopes, not his eyes.
Justice frowned. The guards from the night before had also not noted Creed’s passing through the courtyard or seen the tracks. He had meant to discuss that with Siege.
An alarm niggled at the back of his mind, but his thoughts drifted away from it. Instead they turned to Raven’s mother.