“Take cover!” Traiben cried. “Landslide!”
A moment later it was as if the whole mountain were falling upon us. The world shook beneath our feet. But Kreshe the Savior provided for us in that dark time of danger. An overhanging brow of stone was jutting from the breast of the Wall not far in front of us, and we ran frantically toward it while rocks great and small volleyed down all around us.
We got to the shelter just before the main burden of the rockfall hit, pressing ourselves in against it so wildly and chaotically that we began to laugh despite the gravity of the moment. But it was not a happy laughter. There we stood, jammed tight against one another, stunned and fearing for our lives, while a tremendous hail of tumbling rock came crashing down. The sound it made as it bounced along the flank of the Wall was like the hammering of giants on the mountain’s side. The rain, no doubt, had loosened some slope far overhead. From our safe place we watched, astounded, as the great boulders slammed into the path we had just been on and went bouncing over the edge of the cliff.
It went on for minute after minute. We thought it would never stop. Tenilda and Ais began to beat time to imaginary drums as if they heard a secret music in the endless crashing. Jaif began to chant to their rhythm, a Song of the Falling Mountain. But then came one great earthshaking thud more terrible than anything that had gone before, and a second almost as frightful, and a third, and we all fell silent and stared at one another, thinking that this was the end of us. After that third crash, though, there were no more. An awesome hush descended. At last the thunderous booming had ceased, and we heard only the lesser sound of falling pebbles once more against the hissing of the rain. And then, only the rain.
Cautiously we peered out. A tremendous rocky mound, three times the height of a tall man, covered the place where we had been only a few moments before. It could easily have served as a cairn for us all. The trail we had been following was utterly shattered and buried behind us.
Through the providence of the gods none of us had been killed or even injured. And gradually we began to shake off the impact that so much noise and fury had had upon us. But we had let our packs and bedrolls drop as we ran for safety, and much of what we had left exposed on the trail lay buried now beneath tons of stone. There was no hope of uncovering it. We had lost a great deal in the way of equipment and would have to share and make do with double service from now on. But we paused anyway to give thanks to Kreshe for our preservation before continuing onward.
Then I said, as we made ready to go, “Where is Min?”
My glance went up and down, up and down, and I saw no sign of her anywhere. I walked to the edge of the rockpile and kicked at it despairingly, thinking that she must have failed to reach the shelter in time, that she lay entombed now under that great mass here.
Then Hendy came forward and said, “I saw her turning back, just before the rocks fell.”
“Back? Back where?”
“To the land of the Melted Ones. She was running. Down the path we had just come. I called to her but she kept going, and then there was the rockslide.”
“It was because of her face,” offered Marsiel. “She told me yesterday that she didn’t think she could bear to let anyone look at her. It was after the Healers tried to repair her and failed—she said she was thinking of running away, that she didn’t see how she could stay with us any more. And also on account of Stum—she was so very miserable about Stum. She was talking about going back to the place where Stum had died.”
“And no one let me know of this?” I asked.
“I didn’t think she really meant it,” said Marsiel, very abashed. “I thought it was something that would pass. If I had understood—if I had only understood—”
I looked about, angry and confused. What sort of leader was I, to be losing my Pilgrims right and left like this, and the climb only begun?
The same thing must have occurred to Muurmut. He drew himself up tall and said, “Everyone stay here. I’ll bring her back.”
“Wait,” I said. “I don’t want you going anywhere—”
But I was too slow. Muurmut was already scrambling up the side of the great heap of rocks. He moved with astonishing agility for a man his size, and enormous determination. There was no sense ordering him back; he was already far up the mound, clambering swiftly. The ill-matched rocks slid and slipped beneath him, and for a moment it looked as if the whole mound would give way and topple him into the gulf just beyond. But he raced forward even as the rocks underfoot were moving past him, and somehow held his footing, passing over the crest of the huge cairn and disappearing on the far side.
I was furious. These empty-headed heroics were idiocy. Even if he found Min, how was he going to bring her back? Only someone of immense strength could negotiate that immense pile of jagged rock. Muurmut might make it alone, but not if he were carrying Min.
I had no choice, though, but to wait in this spot until Muurmut returned. If I had given the order to move on without him, I would have laid myself open to a charge of trying to rid myself of my rival, and in a crude and cowardly way besides.
He was gone more than an hour. Much as I would have rejoiced to have him perish on the slopes in his folly, I found myself instead praying for his safe passage, so that he would come back shortly and we might move along without further delay. But there was no sign of him for a long while.
Then we heard scrabbling sounds, and Muurmut appeared atop the rocks, red-faced, dirt-stained, sweating. In silence we watched as he lowered himself to the place where we stood and took a long drink of water from a flask that Grycindil handed him.
“Well?” I said, finally.
“She’s gone.”
“Dead?”
“No, that’s not what I mean. But gone. I went back to the place where the trail winds round and round, and looked down over the edge. And I could see her far below, heading down the hill. Running. She was no bigger than a doll from where I was. I called to her, and I think that she heard me; and she may have called something back, but her voice was blown away on the wind. And she was running all the while. Heading for the plateau as fast as she could, as if that was the finest place in all the world. Heading for the Melted Ones.”
“The other Melted Ones,” Hendy said. “They are her people, now.”
I shivered. But I knew that what Hendy had said was true. Min was lost to us. If Muurmut had succeeded in catching up with her, he could only have brought her back by force; and she would not long have remained.
And so we had the first of our deserters to the Kingdoms: the first of what we would learn to call the Transformed Ones, those who gave themselves up to the will of the mountain and surrendered themselves utterly to the power of change-fire. I muttered a prayer for Min, wherever she might be, whatever she was destined to become.
Muurmut beckoned for another water-flask. He must have put himself under tremendous strain in that futile chase. He drank deep; and then he looked around at everyone, grinning, puffing up his chest, preening. He was obviously immensely pleased with himself for having carried out that solitary trek rearward, and expected everyone else to be also.
I felt that I had to deflate him.
I looked at him and said, “I don’t want anyone to go off on a solo expedition like that ever again.”
“What?” Muurmut cried, and he gave me a look of pure hatred.
“What Min did is a sad and pitiful thing, Muurmut. The hearts of all of us go out to her. But it was absolutely wrong for you to go running after her. There was no way you could have succeeded in catching up with her or bringing her back. And we’ve wasted valuable time here while we were waiting for you. We need to move forward—forward—forward all the time—”