Chapter XXXI: Over the Mountains Cold

The crossing could have gone perfectly fine. There was a pass that stayed away from the highest peaks, and we had plenty of cold-weather clothes. Though it was just slightly too far of a journey to make in one day, Sarnai had gathered enough to set up a small fire during the darkest, coldest parts of the night. It would have been uncomfortable, yes, but it would have also been completely survivable with a bit of grit and ingenuity. 

Of course, it didn’t go perfectly fine, because we got hit by a storm. It started maybe halfway through the day, a little after our midday stop. The sky, which up until that point had been a pure blue, slowly began to fill with puffs of cloud. A wind started to pick up, blowing in from the north, pushing us back with every step. With each passing minute it grew stronger and stronger until every ravine howled like a stony throat and every ounce of warmth was dragged away. Only then, when the sky was so choked with clouds that the mountains were as dim as pre-dawn, did it start snowing. And snowing, and snowing, and keep snowing until everything was a uniform white. 

And it was about then when all three of us realized that we were completely fucked. The altitude made the air so impossibly thin that even short bursts of movement were draining, but it was more than thick enough to pick up entire drifts of snow and hurl them around, reducing visibility very nearly to zero. More than once we’d use up our limited energy pushing forward, only for the wind to die down and reveal that, blind, we’d essentially been walking in circles. We were still going uphill as well, less than halfway across the mountain pass.

And then there was the cold. Now, look; I’m from Chicago. I know a thing or two about fucking cold. I know what happens if you don’t cover up, I know to never let yourself get even slightly damp if you want to stay alive, and I know most of all that you need to find shelter and warmth during a storm. But there was no shelter, there was no warm place, and this was a storm more intense than just about anything I’d seen back on Earth. We were fading fast, all three of us, and the only way out was forward.

We stopped in a hollow for a little while, just long enough to rest and get out of the wind. There was too much snow blowing in to start that fire, so we couldn’t stop. Seeing how poor of a state Sir Margaret and Sarnai were in, I had an idea. Though they argued against it, both quickly realized that I had a point. I took off my outermost layers, including all but a thin set of gloves and everything over my face, and distributed them to the others. My regeneration, hopefully, would be able to undo any frostbite I got from this. Hell, even if I went fully hypothermic and froze, I’d probably thaw out perfectly fine, considering how little decapitation slowed me down. Sir Margaret and Sarnai needed the warmth more than I did. Not long after that, we went right back out. 

Sir Margaret was the first one to collapse, lacking my regeneration and Sarnai’s cold-resistant Durkahn biology. She just slumped over and stopped being able to walk. We couldn’t leave her, so Sarnai took her, just slinging her body over her shoulder next to her pack and trudging forward with scarcely a complaint. Not that the added weight didn’t slow her down. It did, quite a bit, making the idea of escaping from the all-pervading cold just a little bit further out of reach. 

It was about twenty minutes after that when Sarnai finally collapsed. Again without a word. It was creepy how quickly it happened. One moment she was trudging along behind me, the thick crunch of her boots in the snow as regular as a metronome. And then the metronome stopped between one beat and the next, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the incessant howling of the wind through the mountains.

At that point my thoughts had gone well beyond panic or terror, and into a soft resignation. I knew what would happen: I would freeze before long, and wake up when the storm ended, or next summer, or when Selene got around to inventing climate change and finally melted the snow, with Sir Margaret and Sarnai dead beside me. But that didn’t stop me. When Sarnai finally fell unconscious, I turned around in a moment. Though my fingers were completely numb, and my hands well on their way to the same, I clumsily hauled the two of them up onto my shoulders. The weight… together they must have been at least three times my own body weight, if not more. I have absolutely no idea how I managed to get them onto my shoulders, even if they were half-dragging in the snow, and even less of an idea how I gathered up the immense raw strength necessary to walk forward with all that burden on my back. But I did it, anyway, even though every inch of my skin was screaming and my heart was on fire, I did it.

I just had to go one step at a time. One painful, shaking step at a time. And if I made enough steps before I lost grip on consciousness, my friends wouldn’t die. I felt like my bones were going to break from the strain, or my mind would give, or something would give. I could hardly breathe anymore with the cold lashing at my throat, turning the saliva in my mouth to ice… but I wasn’t sure how much I even needed to breathe. Every wound I took, I could heal from and keep going, right?

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get myself to go forever. There was something wrong with my body that I was even able to go as far as I had. I made a promise to myself that I’d make it to the top of the next ridge, and then that would be the top, and we could all roll down the other side. It must have taken hours to reach the top of that next ridge… and see just more mountain stretching up and away. I fell onto my knees, the weight of the others finally too much to carry. I whispered to myself something incoherent about needing to get up, but I couldn’t.

If I was the type of person to believe in gods or fate or what have you, I’d have placed what happened next firmly in their hands. As it is, I consider it quite possibly the single luckiest moment of my entire life. Because right there, as I inched closer to lying down for the long nap, the wind died down. For less than a minute, the air was totally still, and the snow began to settle. It was still dark and still bitterly cold, barely a respite. But most importantly, for just a few seconds, the air was clear enough for me to see something on the next rise, something I could have walked right past if the wind were still blowing. There was a cave there, and a dull orange light flickering from within. My eyes traced out the distance between myself and that point of light; it was a couple hundred feet. And just when I’d burned that path into my memory, the wind kicked up again.

With safety suddenly in reach, a rush went through my body. My heart had been slowing down, but now it hammered in my chest, my hands and feet starting to warm up. This was the end of my reserves, and I got the feeling that if I didn’t make it, then I’d be dead. But I would make it. I forced myself back onto my feet with a scream of triumph and pain, and with Margaret and Sarnai almost dragging behind me, I pulled myself forward. I was heaving and panting, every breath turning to ice on my lips. It felt like I was sprinting even though I was barely stumbling forward, both in terms of exertion, but also in the strength of the rush.

The next thing I remember is finally reaching the mouth of that cave. Away from the wind and the snow, it was warmer, and the radiant heat from whatever was causing the light made it so warm that all of the frost on me started to actually melt. I collapsed onto my hands and knees, breathing hard, shoving Margaret and Sarnai those last few feet across the stony floor, to make sure they were good properly out of the cold. It was only then that I realized that I had no idea who else might be in that cave; if it was a lost stonewose, I might be in for some trouble.

I spent a few seconds trying for my sword, until it finally sank in that my hands were too frozen to grip. So I stood up and raised my fists, ready to beat whatever enemy awaited into a quivering puddle. And indeed, as my eyes adjusted to the shadows of the cave, I did see a lone figure crouched over a large campfire deeper into the cave. 

“Hey! Who is that?” I said as aggressively as I could.

She didn’t speak, and instead shifted over to get a closer look at me. It was only then that I recognized her. The black ruff of fur around her neck was telltale, as was the way her face was covered up by that black cloth mask. I’d stumbled across the Blackbird. 

The adrenaline rush faded away with the realization that I’d found a friend. And as soon as it was gone, I proceeded to pass out. 

The next time I regained consciousness, I had been moved to lay against the ice-covered wall of the cave, nearer to the fire, though the air was still chill. My eyes fluttered open to see the Blackbird and Sir Margaret crouched on the other side, the latter having regained consciousness. Sarnai was off in the corner, deeper in the cave, wrapped up in furs and sleeping, restfully instead of in a hypothermic coma. 

“Emma, darling, are you awake?” said Margaret. “Oh, I was wondering when that would happen, hoping more like, are you quite alright?”

I nodded, while the Blackbird made a few quick, precise hand motions. “Never in doubt, hmm?” Sir Margaret said.

“Sign language?” I said, raising an eyebrow. The Musician’s words to the both of us, and the Blackbird’s inability to refute those words, were still heavy on my mind.

“It’s a throat injury,” she signed, translated by Margaret. “Better to not use it at all than to risk an injury.”

“Thankfully we have Bluerose Military sign to talk with,” Margaret added. “Standard issue for during an artillery barrage or during a stealth attack.”

“Interesting,” I said. I squinted at the Blackbird, thinking that maybe if I looked hard enough I’d be able to see her face through the mask. She looked right back at me, and her face remained totally covered.

“But, Emma, do you have even the slightest idea who this woman is?”

“The Blackbird? We’ve crossed paths a few times before. Fighting that woman with the violin who was causing the hallucinations.”

Margaret grinned. “You’ve met her already and you never even told me. I thought the Blackbird was a myth, a story they tell to new recruits to get them to believe in a savior! But here she is, apparently tagging along with the mission in secret the entire time.”

“Yeah. I saw her during that snowstorm, the big one that hit us on the way up to Zrimash,” I said, still eyeing her suspiciously. Maybe if I carefully observed her body language, I could make a guess at who she was. “Speaking of seeing you last, where have you been? And what happened to the musician?”

The Blackbird’s head quirked in a way that indicated she was rolling her eyes under the mask. Then she signed, Margaret again translating. “We fought evenly until the both of us had taken far too many wounds to continue. She retreated to her camp, and I retreated to the arms of a group of nomadic Durkahn that had been succoring me. By the time I’d recovered, it was too late, and the invasion had already begun. I’m up here monitoring the situation.”

I questioned for a moment if she was telling the truth, but… no. There was something about her, the way her shoulders sagged, that told me the truth of the account. At least, if nothing else, whoever she was, she was one hell of a fighter.

“And you were telling me that you and Emma fought alongside each other, back to back, blade to blade? You’re making me jealous,” said Margaret.

I groaned into my hands. “Who even is the Blackbird, I’ve never heard of this before? Stop acting like this, Margaret, it’s not like you and it’s weirding me out.”

She chuckled. “My apologies.”

The Blackbird shook her head in exasperation and began signing. Margaret translated in between bursts of chuckling. “I work for Bluerose, as their best operative. Whatever is the highest priority of Parliament, I am there, because I’m the best there is at what I do.”

“Well, that’s not creepy at all,” I said.

The Blackbird shrugged, then signed, “If you would rather I had let you die repeatedly, be my guest. But it wouldn’t sit well with me to not repay…” She paused. “All that you have done for Bluerose. And besides, a certain degree of subterfuge is necessary against an enemy as overwhelming as the Empire.”

I nodded, then froze. “You said this was a military sign language? Surprisingly sophisticated.”

Margaret shrugged. “It’s evolved over time, I think. But that’s besides the point, which should really be asking if you’re alright! You had us scared for quite a bit out there, or at least you had me scared.”

I hadn’t paid any attention to the question of my okayness until then, too focused on trying to work out the mystery of the Blackbird. My immediate conclusion, after taking a second to focus on my sense of touch, was that I was doing a hell of a lot better than I had been. I shifted off of the wall and looked down at my hands. They were perfectly normal. The last time I’d seen them, they were black and dripping. Being able to regenerate kind of rocks. 

“I’m fine, yeah.” I relayed the story of what had happened, in detail.

Sir Margaret’s eyes went wide and her jaw fell open as I finished the story. “Emma, you do realize that what you did is completely, utterly impossible, don’t you? Don’t underplay it so much, you’ve… pushed yourself beyond what should be physically possible for the human body to accomplish.”

The Blackbird looked down at her lap in mild astonishment, then made a few quick signs. 

Margaret laughed. “Yes, I suppose profanity would be another way to put it.”

I shrugged. “I did what I had to do.”

“Doesn’t make it any less impossible, as far as I can tell.”

“I guess,” I said. “So how’d you find this place, Blackbird? What’re you doing here?”

“It’s easy to see when there isn’t a storm outside,” she signed. “And like I said before, monitoring the situation. Resting, making sure no stonewose take the mountain route, and trying to come up with a plan of action.”

“That… doesn’t sound like doing much,” I said. “Whatever happened to being the best at what you do?"

The next few signs came out angry, even harsh. Sir Margaret suddenly looked very confused, raising an eyebrow at the Blackbird. “I never told you her name,” she said. There was more signing, then she added, “Oh, you heard it before. I guess that adds up.”

“What did she say?”

Sir Margaret hesitated. “Unlike certain people in this cave, Emma, I’m only human.”

I suppressed a grimace. Poorly, from the look on Margaret’s face. Leaning forward, I warmed my hands against the fire. The Blackbird apparently knew how to make it hurt. Worse, she wasn’t even wrong. We needed to talk.

“Hey, Margaret?”

“Yes? Do you need something from me?”

I nodded. “Could you, uh, check outside and see if the storm is over? And if it is over, maybe check if I dropped anything in that last approach to the cave. We don’t want to lose any equipment.”

She looked a little confused by the request, and reluctant to carry it out, but eventually nodded and stood. As she went to the opening of the cave, I slid closer to the Blackbird.

“You’re hiding who you are from me,” I said. “Why?”

No response besides a shrug. She was, apparently, very committed to the whole “not talking to me” thing.

“Because I know who you are. And you know me. Because you and I both know that I never told you my name. But if I already know you, then why… why not let me know? Because I’m not allowed to know?”

She tossed her head in a noncommittal mix of nod and shake. Sort of?

“Because you think it would put me in danger? Except that I’m literally immortal, nothing you do can put me in danger.”

No response. The Blackbird’s head sank a little lower. 

“You… don’t think I’d react well? You think that I wouldn’t… that I wouldn’t trust you if you kept a secret?”

The cave suddenly felt very small and very, very cold. I struggled to breathe, staring at the tall, slender figure of the Blackbird crouched in front of the fire. She’d fought the Musician and come out intact, and by sheer coincidence she was up here in the mountains. 

“Rook?”

The Blackbird looked up from the fire and turned her head to me, very slowly. Almost uncertain. She put her hand up to her mouth, and tried to suppress a chuckle. It was too raspy to be Rook’s voice. Worse, it was familiar, so goddamn familiar that I was sure I’d heard it before, if only I could remember.

Suddenly angry, I lashed forward, reaching for the bottom of the mask, ready to yank it up over her face. I was fast, but the Blackbird was faster. There wasn’t even any time for me to register that movement. She was simply there, her arm appearing from thin air to deflect my own, the other hand holding steady at her belt. Holding steady at what I now realized was a brace of knives.

I retracted just in time for Margaret to return from her scouting mission. “Well, there’s some good news for you. The storm’s mostly died down, and as far as I can see we have everything in here. We could probably stand to recover overnight, but after that we should be ready to leave for Yazthaan. Blackbird, would you want to go with us?”

She paused, considering, then shook her head. Sir Margaret muttered something about it being a shame as I moved back to my corner of the cave. It was going to be a long, claustrophobic evening. Maybe it would have been better if I’d stayed outside and let myself get cryogenically preserved.

SaffronDragon

For those of you who don't already know: the first part of a new novella-length exclusive story has just gone up on my Patreon, titled "How I Dueled Your Mother" It's a prequel to my other novel, The Earthborn Emissary, but should be fairly accessible even if you haven't read that one. To read it, just click the link below and subscribe to my Patreon at the $5 level. Otherwise, that's fine, I'll see you in two weeks for Chapter XXXII: Back In Action.