tomorrow. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Danica...to walk in such a place, with you.
But he couldn’t tell her that. Not yet. They had many miles to go before they could rest.
She saw something in his gaze and put her hand to his cheek.
“I love you,” she said.
“ I love you,” he said.
And they carried on.
They had to abandon the sleds. The descending slope was jagged and rocky, the footing uncertain, but it would take hours to circumvent the area, and they’d be exposed out in the open much longer than they wanted. That shorter way would quickly bring them down to the dry cedars running parallel to the river, where they’d have easy access to water and cover from prying eyes above.
It’s worth the risk, he kept telling himself, especially as his ankles strained and his back and shins started to ache. It would have been handy if Soulrazor/Avenger would lend him strength, as it had been known to do from time to time, but as usual the swords had a mind of their own, and this time he had to go without their help. Ice and dry rubble crunched underfoot, and more than once Cross felt his center of balance shifting, and he and Ronan almost went tumbling down the slope. Their shadows fell long beneath the pale dry sun. Lighting rings of blue fire waited at the bottom of the hill, natural gas vents which illuminated the darkness of the ravine.
After what felt like hours they finally reached the bottom, where they laid Ronan and Shiv down as gently as they could on blankets while he and Danica rested in the shallow clefts of smelted stone. The air grew louder as they neared the river, and the wind brought the stench of char and lightning. They were thankful for the light provided by the gas vents, faint blue in the failing light, as the sky had been overrun with darkening clouds.
They rested for a short time, drew fresh water from the melted snow which was so cold it burned down Cross’s throat, and carried on towards the broken forest whose floor was packed with rime ice.
The two of them constructed new sleds for their passengers. Ronan and Shiv breathed, but neither of them stirred, they barely took water, and both of them were starting to look bone thin. They needed to find a way to feed them, and soon. Danica’s spirit filled the air with unstable heat as he poured strength into their bodies, healing energies they hoped would keep the two from slipping into death, but there was no physical change.
Cross watched them both with a sickening feeling in his gut. Those past few days he’d been solely focused on how happy the time had been for he and Danica, often forgetting that two of his only friends might have been in terrible pain. Cross knew firsthand that just because the body was asleep didn’t mean the mind was at peace – he’d been unconscious and in the team’s care for weeks while his soul had wandered the black shadowscape known as the Whisperlands, desperately fighting for his life.
Once the sleds were prepared they carried on and walked well into the night, pulling the makeshift supports behind them, postponing making camp until the gas vents were in the distance.
The next day the sun barely rose above the horizon and the light it gave was cold and distant, as if muted through some sort of smudged lens. As the afternoon wore on Danica showed Cross signs of other humans who’d recently been in the area: ice-bleached bones and boot tracks, pools of oil and shell casings. The snow was hard and frozen, the air dry and clear. Every breath he took scraped down his lungs and his skin was so cold from exposure he felt as if he sweated ice.
Legs aching and backs sore they marched on, hoping against hope there was something good waiting for them in Ath, but not really believing it.
They came across the camp early that next night.
Cross and Danica had come to the edge of the forest. The Nightblood River’s icy shores were to their
But he couldn’t tell her that. Not yet. They had many miles to go before they could rest.
She saw something in his gaze and put her hand to his cheek.
“I love you,” she said.
“ I love you,” he said.
And they carried on.
They had to abandon the sleds. The descending slope was jagged and rocky, the footing uncertain, but it would take hours to circumvent the area, and they’d be exposed out in the open much longer than they wanted. That shorter way would quickly bring them down to the dry cedars running parallel to the river, where they’d have easy access to water and cover from prying eyes above.
It’s worth the risk, he kept telling himself, especially as his ankles strained and his back and shins started to ache. It would have been handy if Soulrazor/Avenger would lend him strength, as it had been known to do from time to time, but as usual the swords had a mind of their own, and this time he had to go without their help. Ice and dry rubble crunched underfoot, and more than once Cross felt his center of balance shifting, and he and Ronan almost went tumbling down the slope. Their shadows fell long beneath the pale dry sun. Lighting rings of blue fire waited at the bottom of the hill, natural gas vents which illuminated the darkness of the ravine.
After what felt like hours they finally reached the bottom, where they laid Ronan and Shiv down as gently as they could on blankets while he and Danica rested in the shallow clefts of smelted stone. The air grew louder as they neared the river, and the wind brought the stench of char and lightning. They were thankful for the light provided by the gas vents, faint blue in the failing light, as the sky had been overrun with darkening clouds.
They rested for a short time, drew fresh water from the melted snow which was so cold it burned down Cross’s throat, and carried on towards the broken forest whose floor was packed with rime ice.
The two of them constructed new sleds for their passengers. Ronan and Shiv breathed, but neither of them stirred, they barely took water, and both of them were starting to look bone thin. They needed to find a way to feed them, and soon. Danica’s spirit filled the air with unstable heat as he poured strength into their bodies, healing energies they hoped would keep the two from slipping into death, but there was no physical change.
Cross watched them both with a sickening feeling in his gut. Those past few days he’d been solely focused on how happy the time had been for he and Danica, often forgetting that two of his only friends might have been in terrible pain. Cross knew firsthand that just because the body was asleep didn’t mean the mind was at peace – he’d been unconscious and in the team’s care for weeks while his soul had wandered the black shadowscape known as the Whisperlands, desperately fighting for his life.
Once the sleds were prepared they carried on and walked well into the night, pulling the makeshift supports behind them, postponing making camp until the gas vents were in the distance.
The next day the sun barely rose above the horizon and the light it gave was cold and distant, as if muted through some sort of smudged lens. As the afternoon wore on Danica showed Cross signs of other humans who’d recently been in the area: ice-bleached bones and boot tracks, pools of oil and shell casings. The snow was hard and frozen, the air dry and clear. Every breath he took scraped down his lungs and his skin was so cold from exposure he felt as if he sweated ice.
Legs aching and backs sore they marched on, hoping against hope there was something good waiting for them in Ath, but not really believing it.
They came across the camp early that next night.
Cross and Danica had come to the edge of the forest. The Nightblood River’s icy shores were to their
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