If they hadn’t needed a place to hide and rest while the guards looking for them searched fruitlessly down in the lowlands, Vee wouldn’t have admitted a single thing. The strength of her abilities was not something the Courier liked to discuss. But they were both exhausted from being on the run, they couldn’t stay long in any one town, and traveling in winter—flying in winter—left both of them aching and cold by midday, even with him sharing his thon to keep them warm.
It was now midafternoon, and she had been flying the pair of them low to the ground, which meant a lot of maneuvering up and down as they traversed the folds of the mountains. The cabin was only a few yards away, relatively speaking, but secrecy demanded a more convoluted, energy-draining approach. Her tone was therefore a little snappish. “Well, lucky for you, Mister Kiereseth, I have more than a smidgen. Of both Water and Fire. I’m pretty sure that I can do it.”
“You . . . what?” Kiereseth fumbled to grab her shoulders as she shifted from a low angle to a more vertical position, one better suited for slipping down between the evergreens. “No. Your main affinity is Air. The strongest I’ve ever seen, yes, but you’re from the Earthlands. It’s only the people in the Skylands who have really strong thon in more than one category,” he added, wincing as a few of the tree branches scraped against them, showering them in snow. “So what, are you also that strong in Earth? Are you some sort of . . . of mutant thonist, balanced in all four elements?”
“I’m not that balanced. Earth is my weakest affinity, Air my strongest . . . and I’m strong because I am strong, and that’s all there is to it. Only Light and Life know why,” she muttered, bringing herself upright as her feet touched the snow. Touched, and sank down, and down again, until both she and her passenger were mired up to their waists.
The upper layers of snowfall were a deep, soft, dry powder, with the more compressed layers at least three, maybe four feet deep. The biggest reason they sank so far was that he was still clinging to her, carried piggyback on her shoulders since he couldn’t tense his muscles and fly.
“Off. Please, Mister Kiers, off you go. I can’t do this with you clinging to me. I’m not that strong on the ground, and I can’t focus on flying when I’m trying to control two other thons on something I haven’t done since the Academy.”
“Of course, Miss Vielle.” Releasing the young woman, Kiereseth plopped down into the thick snow in a sort of reclined position as the powder supported his outstretched arms and legs. His disgruntled state gave way before the absurdity of it. Chuckling, he wiggled his limbs in a fruitless attempt to right himself, then muttered, “I feel like I’m in a Weather-be-damned hammock. Ice-cold, but a hammock. If it weren’t freezing out, I’d be comfortable.”
“Enjoy it while it lasts, Mister Kiers,” Vee muttered back, removing her goggles from her face. She tucked them into the backpack slung across her front. “I’m not sure how exhausted I’ll be by the end of this, so I’ll be counting on you and your Fire affinity to get that cabin warm.”
Arching her arms, she tensed her shoulders and upper arm muscles, gloved fingers clenching slowly into fists. She couldn’t bring her arms in close to her chest since she was wearing a backpack in a reversed position, covering her leather-clad breasts, but she didn’t need to for this particular thon-focusing trick.
With her body pointed at the cabin, arms arced like she was trying to give the air itself a hug, the snow in front of her gradually started to shift and move. She had to angle slightly uphill to avoid a couple of tree trunks, plus be mindful of where all that melting snow was flowing to beneath the drifts. Not to mention try to make it look like a natural dimple in the snow, rather than a man-made one.
Once she had a tunnel-sized divot formed for the entrance, she was free to send the melted water up in a webwork of curved arches, supporting the snowpack like a crystalline trellis. It wasn’t easy work. Without him clinging to her, keeping both of them warm with his Fire thon, the cold had begun to seep through her clothes, and the nearly full-day’s flight had exhausted her.
She could have spared a bit of Fire for her own warmth, but juggling the water was just that, a juggle to hold it in place in its webwork of supports while she pulled enough heat back out of the melted snow to freeze it in place, all without melting the layers above into a divot that would be noticeable from the air.
Struggling out of the snow in her wake, Kiers followed her step by step as she moved into the tunnel her quiet efforts made. If he hadn’t seen similar displays back home, he might’ve been astounded beyond words by her strength and control. As it was, he could admit in his head to being amazed.
All this strength and control, after a good six hours of flight just to reach this place . . . and none of it bolstered by a single bite of all that thonite she had bought and packed. Nor had she been born up in the Skylands like him. This much thon strength in an Earthland-bound woman was almost unheard of, back home.
A home he couldn’t go back to, thanks to the machinations of his sister.
Mindful of their descent, Kiers spent a few minutes melting some of the snow and dusting more of it over the impact of their landing. It was underneath the evergreen boughs, but he didn’t want to make it too obvious. When that was done, he realized she had made several yards of progress.
Following her into the tunnel, Kiers saw her shivering. Only then did he realize she was no longer enjoying the shared warmth of the slight amount of Fire thon he was expending to keep himself warm. Moving up behind her on the cold, grassy path she had made in the snowbank, he gently placed his gloved hands on her back, sharing that heat.
When the warmth finally penetrated her clothes, seeping into her stiff, trembling muscles, Vee had to stifle a moan. She hadn’t realized how cold she had grown. Step by step, she continued to craft the tunnel, arms held wide and curved, fingers slowly clenching and flexing. As good as his thon was at keeping them warm, she knew it wouldn’t last forever. They needed a real fire, one with wood for its fuel rather than the frailties of mind and body. A real fire, which would allow them to cook the food the hunter said he had stockpiled in the larder of his cabin.
The tunnel broke through to the porch right next to one of the stout tree trunks that had been used as columns to support the deep overhang of the roof, forcing her to swerve a bit. Satisfied with her aim, Vee cleared some of the snow from around the door, where it had piled at least as high as the handle.
The melted water was smaller in volume without the pockets of air trapped between the arms of each little snowflake. Rather than letting it drain through the wooden boards forming the front porch, she shifted it into an icy retaining wall meant to shore up the snowbank looming along the open side. It would be annoying to have to constantly re-clear the front door during their stay here if that snowbank collapsed inward.
“Go on in, Mister Kiers,” she urged him, taking a moment to lower and relax her aching arms. Shaping snow used a different, less familiar set of muscles than flying did. “There should be wood inside. Get a fire started in the hearth if you can, or at least find a lamp to light. Mister Horgen said the woodpiles were located just to either side of the house, but it looks like they’re completely buried in all this snow. I’ll have to dig them out, and give them more of these ice-arches for support.”