‘Why would that make a difference?’ Brynne asked.
‘Because she would have no idea Lessek’s Key was at all important
… you know- In case Nerak gets to her… takes her-’ Mark was a little surprised at how pragmatic he sounded when discussing Hannah’s possible death. He kicked a bloodstained log onto the fire. ‘We must assume the key is still sitting there on Steven’s desk.’
Gilmour brightened. ‘And we must also assume Nerak remains unaware of that fact.’
‘Right,’ Garec joined the conversation. ‘Or else why would he come here, or at least project himself here, to threaten and attack us?’
‘But Gilmour,’ Mark interrupted, ‘if he knows where we are all the time, won’t he be tipped off when we make for Welstar Palace instead of Sandcliff?’
‘Yes, he will,’ Gilmour nodded. ‘And there will be nothing to keep him from stepping across the Fold, finding Lessek’s Key and sending his collected forces against us while he studies the spell table at his leisure.’
Brynne pushed an errant lock of hair behind one ear. ‘Do you believe that wraith is the one following us?’
‘Not from what Steven said,’ Gilmour answered, and Garec nodded in agreement. ‘It must be someone else, someone resourceful, with the fortitude and skill to make his way through these hills alone.’
‘Could Malagon be watching us?’
‘No, it’s too far. He would be forced to focus his will for long periods of time.’ Gilmour tore a piece of cold meat from the uneaten chunk of boar still lying near the fire. ‘This is someone crafty, with enough magic to camouflage his or her presence when I cast about searching for them. When we were in the foothills or out near the river, I detected many others about, travellers mostly. However, now that we’re in an uncharted section of the Blackstones, I am confident that when I find someone, it will be our Malakasian shadow.’
Garec completed Gilmour’s thought. ‘So we need to be certain we find this spy before we make a definitive move towards Welstar Palace.’
‘Right.’ Looking towards the stars, Gilmour added, ‘Dawn is approaching. Let’s get things packed for the day. Sallax and Steven may sleep a bit longer, but then we must continue on.’
By midmorning, Garec realised the group dynamic had changed dramatically. Sallax, their confident and indefatigable leader, had grown sullen and quiet. He trudged through knee-deep snow, brooding, not talking. He had awakened with a start, crying out and springing to his feet as Garec was repacking their saddlebags. Brynne had rushed to her brother’s side, but he refused to discuss the wraith’s attack, even with her. He assured her he felt fine, and then refused to elaborate. Garec watched him now as he pushed his way downhill through the drifts while his cloak dragged behind him; it looked like an exceedingly long cape draped over a man half his height. Garec felt a pang of doubt ripple through his stomach. No one had appointed Sallax their leader, but he was a source of strength; he helped the others feel as though they would never be defeated as long as he was there to push them onwards. Though Sallax looked physically sound, Garec was worried Gabriel O’Reilly’s ghost had done something to break his friend’s spirit, to weaken him emotionally, maybe even killed his desire to win back Rona’s freedom. The mysterious wraith had told Steven it wanted to help, but that had been the extent of its communication. Who knew what it had done to Sallax?
Steven was different too, desperate in his determination to move on, and he shouted back at them, encouraging everyone to move as quickly as possible down the slope and across the narrow valley to the next incline. Progress was slow and Garec doubted they’d make it to the pass before nightfall. He thought deep drifts might have collected at the base of the mountain, forcing them to make camp among the pines and put off pushing for the tree line until the following morning.
Unable to make his way through the snow and remain vigilant for passing game at the same time, Garec wore his longbow slung across his shoulders and used both hands to maintain his balance as he hurried along behind Steven.
However worried about their progress he was, Garec did spare a thought for Steven’s anguish: he was obviously tortured by the thought that his love was alone in Praga. They could hear the guilt in Steven’s voice, and he gripped his hickory staff as if he expected Malagon to rise up bodily from the earth. Steven was convinced this woman – Hannah – would be safe at home if he had never opened the far portal. Garec felt for him.
Like Sallax, Steven looked as if he had been cut off at the knees and propped up in the drifts. ‘Please, everyone,’ he called, sounding harried, ‘we must hurry. We’re facing a really difficult climb and we need to reach the base of this slope as soon as possible.’
Mark shot Steven a glance; Garec could see the two friends disagreed on how far the group would progress that morning.
Steven too noticed Mark’s doubt and he stopped for a moment, crestfallen, as if he had only just realised they would not be able to walk all the way to Welstar Palace without rest. He set his jaw, brushed a clump of snow from his cloak and entreated his friends again, ‘We must try. I’ll break the trail. Stay in my tracks and you’ll find the going easier.’
Behind him, Garec detected the aroma of Gilmour’s pipe. The old sorcerer had said nothing all morning.
From time to time Garec peered through the highest pine branches towards the sky, but the sun was invisible behind the unbroken cloud. Garec recognised that Steven was doing a heroic job maintaining a direct line to the base of the mountain; it had taken an aven or two watching him, but Garec had finally worked out that Steven was checking and adjusting their progress when, periodically, he would hold the hickory staff aloft and sight along it towards two peaks visible in the distance. Garec promised himself he would learn this navigation strategy.
Steven’s breath came in laboured gasps as he forced himself to continue breaking the trail. Garec almost wished Steven would just keep staring into the distance rather than turning around to speak with them at all, for his desperation was written all over his face. Despite the biting cold, he was sweating profusely and his skin shone palely white, nearly matching the snowy hillside around them. Had it not been for the bright red flush across his cheeks and the billowy clouds marking time with his breath, Garec would have rushed down the slope to see if Steven was still alive.
The insecure banker who had arrived in Eldarn such a short time ago had given way to the angry, frustrated and guilt-ridden warrior who stood before him now; Garec was beginning to think that without Sallax’s leadership, the future of the Ronan Resistance might rest in the hands of Steven Taylor. He couldn’t work out why Gilmour had remained silent all morning, nor why the old man was allowing Steven to push them so hard. They were wet and cold, and uncertain they could make the climb over the next pass. Mark knew it. Brynne knew it, and he knew it. If Steven continued at this pace, none of them would have the strength to go on. They would never make it at this pace; they would not succeed. Sallax, Gilmour, even Mark: one of them needed to take control. Steven needed to understand that his guilt at Hannah’s plight was not reason enough to put them all at risk. Garec longed for Versen to appear and take charge.
He looked back at Gilmour, who gave him a warm, ironic smile through a cloud of pipe smoke. Then, surprised at the sound of his own voice, Garec cried out, ‘Stop!’
Everyone turned to look. Steven, irritated at the interruption to his forced march, called back, ‘No, Garec, we must continue moving. We’ve nearly reached the base of this valley. It won’t be long before we’re climbing that slope.’ He gestured towards the ominous rise awaiting them in the distance.
‘I’m sorry, Steven,’ Garec called back, ‘but we have to take a break. Sallax is ill and we’re all wet and cold. If we push ourselves to exhaustion today, none of us will clear that pass tomorrow.’ Garec was worried the others might disapprove, but if he didn’t try, they would probably all die in the snow.