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Arc 2 - Mountain of ice, part 6

When D’Argen came to again, he was covered in the outer robe Thar had been using. Thar, however, was not there. D’Argen quickly sat up only to feel that stabbing pain inside his chest once more. He immediately reached for it and wrapped an arm around his middle. His ribs. Definitely bruised, if not cracked. But also, something beyond that. There was a weight over his mahee like a wet blanket that felt uncomfortable and strange.

After taking a few shallow breaths to deal with the pain in his chest, he looked down at his leg. The laces on his high boots were so tight that it looked painful and there was an additional strip of light cloth over his knee and around the ankle of his boot. When he felt for his leg with his mahee, he felt the spider cracks already healing and the clean break of the bone. It was not the first time he had broken a bone, not even the first time he had broken this bone. But it still hurt as the torn muscles around the break healed much faster than the bone did.

A stab at his hip revealed that it had, indeed, been dislocated and put back. It was now only sore though, compared to what it must have been before. It was not the first time D’Argen had dislocated a hip either.

At least his head had stopped hurting. Well. It no lounder pounded with his pulse. The pain now was probably from a simple headache due to cold and stale air.

Once he took full stock of his own body, he looked around once more. There was light coming from above and he chanced a look up. So far. It looked even farther than it had in the darkness with the false light. Now though, there was a break in the snow above that shone on the wall of ice and bounced around and through the frozen crevasse, revealing its size. It was huge. It was tall. It was terrifying.

D'Argen once more remembered he was alone and decided to risk calling out Thar’s name in a combination of a whisper and a yell.

“I am here,” came a response and then Thar appeared as if he had melted out of the ice. When D’Argen focused, he realized there had been a bend in the ledge they were on and Thar had been on the other side of it.

“How are you?”

“In pain,” D’Argen replied and moved to stand. Thar helped him up and supported him as D’Argen tested his weight on his leg. It hurt something fierce and made his eyes water, but he had no other option. “What were you doing?”

“Looking for a way out. I may have found something.”

“No, Thar, wait. Have you rested properly?” D’Argen reached out with a hand on the other man’s chest to stop him from moving. “I barely feel your mahee.”

“We do not have time to rest.”

As if on cue, he bent over and started coughing. The action startled D’Argen so much that he jumped back, putting weight on his bad leg and hip and immediately crashing back down to the ground. Thar stopped coughing to come over and help him. D’Argen noticed dark wet stains on Thar’s sleeve. Blood.

“I’m good, I’m good,” D’Argen said and tried to wave the other away. He was in too much pain to deal with another thump back like that, but it was not like they could just sit around and wait for rescue. “What supplies do we have?” he asked instead, ready to assess the situation.

“Only your pack. Hortson was carrying mine when I…”

The hesitation made D’Argen pause where he was removing his pack. He looked at Thar and the man looked so guilty. What had he done? Instead of asking that, D’Argen asked, “How long have I been unconscious?”

“I do not know. I was not fully conscious myself for a while there.”

D’Argen scowled and found himself staring at those dark blotches on Thar’s white robes. He wanted to wipe them off but he knew if he reached out now, he would only smear them. But they should not be there. Lemisyre’s work was the best there was. Nothing as simple as blood would stain Thar’s clothes. Not like it had before, when there was so much that it soaked and—

“We have to find some way to recuperate your mahee first,” D’Argen said quickly, replacing the memories that were trying to resurface. “Your mahee is slow to fill up and I fear with my injury, that will be our only way out.”

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“Not the only way. I may have found something.”

“Fine! We will look at it. But you will rest and will not use your mahee for anything.”

Thar hummed but this time D’Argen could not tell what the sound meant, especially since Thar furrowed his brows and looked away. After a moment of silence, D’Argen sighed and said, “Let me take count of our supplies and then we go.” He did not wait for a response and opened his pack, rummaging through it as he took things out.

As he had warned Hortson before, there was no food in it. There used to be a small jar of mead, but it must have broken in the fall because it was now in pieces and his entire pack smelled of honey. There was more rope and a few of the climbing hooks Borianna had gotten them all back on the White Cliffs. There was also a pair of wooden circles with a rope threaded through them that were supposed to make it easier to walk on the snow, but both were broken now. And there was also a metal stick that extended into a pole almost as tall as D’Argen. He had two of those and decided that one would be perfect for now.

He did not want to discard anything, but he did leave the broken pieces of his jar of mead behind as he repacked everything else except for one of the metal sticks. Once ready, he rose with a grunt and slung the pack over his shoulder.

“Let me,” Thar said and held out his hand, an offer to carry the pack, most likely.

“I can do it,” D’Argen almost snapped out in anger. If Thar was going to hide his own injuries, D’Argen could very well downplay his own. He slipped the pack over his shoulders then unlatched the mechanism that made the small stick snap open into a long pole and tested it by resting his weight on it. It was strong enough to hold his weight as he limped around. When he was sure it would help him walk rather than hinder him, he nodded to Thar.

“Lead the way.”

Thar hummed in response, turned around, and slowly started moving. The ledge they were on circled, curved, got thicker, and then thinner, but it was a long walk and on a few occasions it was downhill. D’Argen had a tough time balancing and keeping himself from slipping, but Thar was always there to help him when he needed it.

After barely a few hours of walking, D’Argen asked for a break. His leg was hurting something fierce and he was limping so much, he may as well have been jumping.

While D’Argen sat, Thar went ahead.

D’Argen closed his eyes and tried to ignore the pain and focus on the sounds around him. It was so quiet that he could hear the ice creak. But at least it was not completely dark. While there were sections where there was no light at all, the little that made it in from the top of the crevasse was enough to bounce off the ice and snow and give everything an ethereal tint. Thar could save his mahee if only—

He swore under his breath when he realized that the air he was breathing in was still warm. A lot warmer than it should have been. Good thing that Thar using his mahee to absorb the cold also meant that he was using it to restore it. Otherwise, D’Argen would have been tempted to yell, even if it broke the ice around them again.

“I found something, are you good to go?” Thar said as soon as he was close enough to whisper the words, startling D’Argen.

D’Argen was not, in fact, good to go, but he nodded. Thar helped him rise and D’Argen bit his lip hard to keep from screaming. Once settled, Thar moved beside him.

“It is wide enough, come.” Thar wrapped an arm around D’Argen’s waist and then took one of D’Argen’s arms and rested it over his shoulders. The fact that they were almost of the exact same height made the position uncomfortable with Thar having to stoop a little and D’Argen having to stretch out his side, but it definitely made it easier for him to walk without putting too much weight on his bad leg.

After two more bends, the ledge opened to a larger space, big enough to hold them both if they were to lie side by side and though it continued on, Thar turned them slowly. Right across from them, on the other wall, was a much narrower ledge with what looked like a wall made completely of clear ice. When D’Argen looked closer, he could see that it was moving slightly as if water was running over it.

The two separated so D’Argen had to lean back against the ice wall behind him and take a deep breath.

“There is a cave beyond,” Thar said. “The ice is thin enough to break and the cave walls seem strong. If nothing else, it would be secure ground for us to recuperate.”

“Sounds good,” D’Argen said through a wide grin and shifted his weight. Only to find a slippery patch of ice under his foot. His leg flew out from under him and he shifted, only to put all of his weight on his bad leg. That made him scream and lose balance once more. Thar was standing too far away to stop him from falling completely.

And then the scream echoed up and around them. D’Argen hit the ground hard and groaned. When he opened his eyes, it was to watch spider cracks fly up the ice wall he had been leaning against a moment ago. He had to squint as snow started falling on his face and it took him too long to realize that there was a large batch of snow not too far above them. And it was coming closer.

“Thar!” D’Argen tried to warn and immediately raised his hands to cover his head. The snow did not fall on him. The clean scent of Thar’s mahee surrounded him instead, taking away the stale air and replacing it with a cold so crisp that it burned his nose. When D’Argen relaxed from his tense position he turned over to both thank Thar for saving him and scold him for using his mahee.

He ended up facing empty air. There was nothing at all between him and the drop of the crevasse. No Thar.