Travel through the mountains as a party of a mere three people and two pack animals is a very dangerous endeavor and one not advisable for any person. Had the forces of the Obsidian Order not been so recently ravaged it is almost certain they would have taken the initiative and attacked such a small and vulnerable group. Bahab hunters speak of such risks often, with hunting parties often forced to abandon valuable kills that go into the cookpots of the thralls. While the Lady Indili’s presence theoretically represented a potent source of protection, she was much depleted by what she had done. It would be weeks before she could summon a shade again, and she spent much of her time tied to the horse and sleeping in the hopes of recovering her vigor. The modest blade and spear skills Kundun and I possessed hardly counted any further. Any conflict with a trained party would surely have gone very badly. Instead of force, we relied upon the innate stealth supplied to such a small group and the extremely remote nature of the region we sought to cross. Speed was also a resource, for a small group of seasoned travelers can move quickly even in a vast and trackless space and the resources necessary to track us down would require an expenditure well beyond that which the Bahab or Sunfire Cult would be willing to invest. Nor did I believe that there was any real interest in doing so, given the minimal valuables we had taken with us. Truthfully, I expended little energy considering such possibilities, being instead focused on a rapid return to the glacier and committed to a swift and efficient search before the weather inevitably changed. Each of us was fully aware that an overly long delay would result in almost certain death. A single snowfall would convert the Cracking Void from merely unreasonably hostile to an absolute death trap and would make the necessary retreat back across the passes almost impossible.
Hunters of the Gray Birch tribe had offered descriptions of landmarks and clues as to a possible path through the peaks. This required a significant northward push, but that lay well in line with the calculations I had conducted regarding the possible locations of the dragon’s lair. They spoke of a mountain called White Horn as the key. Significantly taller than its companions, if viewed from the correct vantage it appeared to curl toward the summit in the manner of a goat’s horn. Though perpetually snowcapped and with steep sides, they claimed that on the northern side of the mountain the land had fallen away in a vast landslide and that from this pile of boulders a path low enough that the stones remained bare all summer long could be observed. Several of the older hunters claimed that they had ascended along this escarpment to access the western slopes of these peaks in order to hunt for eagle chicks and lynx, now reduced down to extreme rarity at lower elevations due to the value attached to their pelts. It happened that, as our party ascended to discern the White Horn Pass, we glimpsed one of these majestic but quite skittish felines. It had a distinctly spotted coat, similar in some ways to that of a leopard but with a different pattern, and possessed the curious tufted ears that serve as the unmistakable mark of its kind. The Bahab claim it is good luck to see one of these animals, though in their distorted faith they ascribe no other properties to these creatures.
As none of our trio had much skill in the pathfinder’s arts, we relied upon old trails and open stone spaces to find our way. Thankfully, at such heights vegetation grows slowly and is browsed heavily, such that even trails from many seasons past remained viable to follow. Despite this, we still lost the way on occasion and were forced to backtrack periodically. Divergences to bypass overgrown areas our camel refused to push through were also required. That beast was a singularly stubborn creature but possessed indomitable spirit. She seemed amused by our efforts to march till we dropped, as if no human activity could possibly tire her.
We proceeded northward for twelve days, utilizing every hour of sunlight. We made only simple camps, wrapped up in our bedrolls surrounding a small fire. Little time was expended cooking. We would stop by Bahab camps long enough to trade for supplies, mostly barley porridge and dried meat strips, but then moved on quickly. Only at the final camp, a seasonal hunting and fishing operation on the edge of a high alpine lake engaged in preparing the considerable fall harvest from those rich cold waters, did we lay in a surplus of supplies. This primarily consisted of dried fish, which was not to any of our tastes, but allowed us to load down our mounts and fill our packs. The following days of hiking were very hard on backs and knees, but I wished to secure a month’s worth of supplies, believing that it might take such a length of time to return from the glacier and that the possibility of loss on the ice was considerable. Thankfully the Bahab had many fish and were happy to take the coins and gems we had scavenged from the Obsidian Order. Currency in Shdustu is almost always accepted regardless of origin, being valued entirely by weight. Though the Nikkad princes of the major cities produce coins with their faces upon them, few pay much attention to this issuance, as the imprimatur of alchemists regarding the value of the metal, which is done much as it is in the imperial mints, is far more important than any royal sanction. Kharal will accept coinage but use it only for foreign trade. Among themselves, livestock exchange underlies all major deals. Given the choice, they will melt down precious metal and turn it into jewelry rather than preserving coinage. Thankfully, their appetite for such finery is seemingly bottomless, and spending silver and gold is therefore no trouble anywhere in Shdustu.
Duly provisioned, we turned west to challenge White Horn Pass. The ascent, though steep, was straightforward, and months in the mountains had inured our bodies to the strain of the heights. Many switchbacks and scrambles were necessary, but as the landslide had opened the forest canopy, the target of our ascent remained in view throughout the process. This provided both a tangible goal and motivation and the opportunity to correct our course by active observation stretched across the stones and stunted trees. The climb took only a day and a half. We reached the summit of the pass shortly after noon. The descent, by contrast, was the more challenging effort by far. As the Bahab do not go down onto the glacier, we had only the trails laid by the long-horned sheep and hunting wolves to guide us. Worse, the slopes there were very harsh, shaped and carved by the power of the Cracking Void.
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It is difficult to explain, and there is no history of scholarship in the empire upon this subject, for the Core Provinces contain no such high peaks and the Shdrast Range is poorly explored upon the borders, but I believe the Bahab understanding is correct. Though it unfolds across immensities of time that make even dynastic histories seem mayfly-short, glaciers move. Both Lady Indili and I were convinced by this as we observed the sheer cliffs on the western edge of the mountains. No wind or rain carved those strange canyons and left behind shattered walls of stone. Only the ice could have done such a thing. Truthfully, why should ice not move? A lake may expand and shrink, and even dry up entirely over the course of centuries. Rivers jump their banks and chart new courses, and there are places in the world where the earth itself shakes and shifts along hidden cracks according to some design only the Divines know. There is no reason why ice should be exempt from such landscape changes. Certainly, anyone who walks upon a glacier will feel the difference. Though the ice is thick and hard as bedrock, it has none of the stillness of primordial stone. The glacier is forever in tension, and crackling and buckling is constant, something that can be felt through the toes as one treads across it. I know not the mechanism by which such movement is accomplished, nor the speed, but I remain certain it occurs. I also suspect that this unseen mechanism, shifting blocks of ice the size of mountains by some minor distance, accounted for the emergence of the dragon from centuries of slumber. Some crack or split in the ice caused the egress to its lair to open as a consequence of the unseen motion below. If dragons truly are living expressions of the will of the Divines, it seems appropriate that their life cycles should be dictated by such mighty primal cycling processes across the vastness of time.
Whatever the truth, this topic demands the dedicated attention of proper scholars rather than the swiftly gathered musings of a single cartographer. I can say clearly that the descent was very difficult. Previously, in approaching the glacier from the south, the expedition had followed the paths carved out of the ice by meltwater streams. Such actions were not possible approaching from the east, where the ice was hard and cold. Instead, we had to slowly plot out a path that avoided box canyons and sheer cliffs while ultimately delivering us to a point where ice met rock at a manageable incline rather than a blue-white wall many times our height. Though the three of us, and our mounts, were by this time surefooted, any attempt to climb an icewall lay well beyond our means. Though the Bahab know the trick to climb up walls of ice, even they rarely dare such ascents considering them both unnecessarily dangerous and a pointless way to severely damage valuable tools. From the saddle of the pass, being afforded an excellent view, I attempted to map out the route downward. This was very difficult, especially as a glacier glimpsed from high above is singularly resistant to the cartographer’s gaze, appearing as little more than a vast white blur blasting off immense glare. As may be expected, the initial result was far from entirely successful.
It took three attempts, and three days of effort, before we found a path that allowed us up onto the ice. The scrambling, back and forth progression was tiring, and inflicted a wide variety of scrapes, bruises, and other small injuries upon us all. Nothing serious, thankfully, as without proper healers to assist us even a minor wound could potentially doom the effort. We had a supply of honey and strained wine acquired from the Bahab that could be used to treat injuries if heated, for their properties in preventing putrefaction are well established, but such measures are a poor substitute for the presence of a trained apothecary. The ability of a traveling party to transform injury into exhaustion is invaluable, and it is not desirable for anyone to make prolonged journeys through the wild without the support of a skilled healer.
Our path onto the glacier was found in a deep canyon. Here an especially strong rock face had disrupted the ice and formed a deep pool of water. A great pile of debris, shattered and damaged rock from above, filled in the gaps this generated and provided a jumbled ramp that we could scramble over and reach onto the ice itself. Such an ascent was not easy. We had to unload the animals and carry each load up ourselves in repeated trips. Convincing the camel and pack horse to make the effort required the influence of Lady Indili’s sorcery, for the animals feared such loose surfaces with good reasons. We went very slowly, but it still relied upon the grace of the Divines to avoid a broken leg.
Fifteen days had been required to reach this point. The weather remained clear, but not only was the ice itself very cold, but the coming of winter was clear in the rapidly shortening days. We knew that there was little time left to us. A single rush was all that existed within the reduced range of opportunities.
In the morning, we tied ourselves together with the thickest ropes we possessed, despite the scratchy camel hair used to manufacture them, and embarked on a northwest path into the heart of the Cracking Void. I allotted seven days, maximum, before we must turn back. Even this I considered daring, reckless even. Any serious delay, due to injury, storm, or other unforeseen circumstance would strand us on the glacier as the winter slammed down. An early snow might well bury the passes and leave us stranded on the wrong side of the mountains. Despite this, the three of us remained committed. On the day we crested the pass we’d watched the dragon wheeling about among the clouds, screaming across the bluish face of the glacier. None had ever seen it so low.
The lair was nearby.