“Thar?” D’Argen called out quietly. The first time. After multiple calls of the other man’s name in increasingly different tones and volumes, D’Argen finally crawled to the edge and looked down. The light around him was so faint without Thar’s mahee that it shone barely a few hands further down the edge.
There was a spark of something in the distance, a flash—Thar using Abbot’s magic again?—but it disappeared so fast that D’Argen could have imagined it.
“Thar?!” D’Argen dared to call out once more, his voice echoing down into the darkness. The creaking of ice around him was unsettling but it was nothing compared to the cold that was trying to seep into his bones. It felt like everything inside him was freezing.
He tried to take a deep breath and felt it freezing his mouth, throat, and all the way down to his lungs. He wanted to cough, but it was so dry. Another cough made something tear inside him. The following one made his ribs ache so bad that he wanted to cry.
The pain inside his chest was horrible, but it could have been worse.
Thar was alive. D’Argen knew that simply because of his mahee. It was hurting, it was churning too fast, it was a storm inside him that could drown him… but it was not the pain that he remembered from millennia ago when the first of the Never Born died. Tassikar. Nor the years to follow when more of their own fell under the claws and fangs and magic of demons.
With slow and shallow breaths, D’Argen collected himself and reached for his mahee. He opened it just enough to mutter a simple spell and bettered his vision. He peeked over the edge once more and though he saw much further down than before, he did not see a bottom. Or Thar. The minimal light bounced off the walls of ice, reflecting back and forth, but it did not penetrate the darkness under him.
Using the metal pole, D’Argen got up. It was time to look for a way down. On his first step, the pole slipped out from under him and he came crashing down right after it. It was so hard to hold the groan of pain in but he succeeded. Barely.
Everything was hurting so bad and his mahee was acting strange. He remained lying on the ice as he opened his mahee and closed his eyes. It answered him but did not escape through his throat. His balance was completely gone on the ice without it and without the full use of his leg.
Okay. First step. Heal.
Although his mahee was depleted and acting strange, D’Argen risked a spell from Simeal’s repertoire. Her healing magic was strong enough to mend bones in seconds. D’Argen was barely able to make the blood in his leg slow and run in the right direction. He was never good at the healing magic, even those created by the kinesiologists among them. Even Abbot, a naturalist, knew better how to heal the body than D’Argen did.
Once the spell was finished, the stabbing and pounding started alternating. It no longer covered his entire body but was instead bouncing between his head, under his ribs to his mahee, and the entire length of his leg from hip to ankle. A deeper breath made the twinge on his mahee switch over to his ribs and on the exhale it returned double at his core. The headache, at least, did not shift anywhere and remained firmly with the bump on the back of his head.
Was this what mortals felt like all the time? D’Argen squeezed his eyes shut tight to prevent the reflexive tears of pain from escaping. He could not deal with them freezing his eyelashes together on top of everything else.
The next breath he took in was so painful that it felt like some type of miasma instead of air. The cold was horrible. The shivers running through his body rattled his bones and all his injuries. He missed Thar.
Wary of slipping again, D’Argen crawled to the edge once more instead of standing. He chanced a look at the thin wall of ice across from him. He could see faint outlines beyond the ice. It looked like some sort of cave, with walls all around it. It looked safe. A glance down into the darkness below still did not reveal Thar.
He could not leave without the other man. Even if he wanted. Not that he did. Thar was down there somewhere. Alive.
His entire body protested as he got up again and collected the metal pole. With one hand on the wall of ice beside him and careful steps, he decided to explore further. A safer way down, maybe. From what he remembered, these crevasses were formed due to water. Water flowed down. The ledge he was on was a break, but there was a chance he could find a smoother way down into the depths of the crevasse. He rounded a bend on the ledge, opposite where they had come from. As he walked, the ledge got wider then so narrow that he had to hug the wall.
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The light from above faded away into nothing at all and D’Argen was completely blind. He was tempted to return to where he had lost Thar, but that would accomplish nothing at all. Instead, he felt around in the darkness until he was sure the spot he was on was as secure as it could be. He sat down, leaned against the wall, rested the metal pole on his lap, and closed his eyes.
Everything was hurting so bad and his lips were so dry that they tasted of blood. Or maybe that was his torn-up throat. Instead of focusing on those minor injuries and the discomfort of the cold, D’Argen tried Simeal’s spells yet again. He would not be able to heal the break in his leg, but with enough time and concentration, he would be able to mend the strings of ripped muscle around it. His lungs were protesting too much but instead of dealing with his cracked ribs, he breathed shallow and fast to warm them from the cold.
It took all night.
By the time he opened his eyes to the faint light bouncing around him, he was so tired he could have slept for a decade. He was still unable to take a deep breath without his ribs hurting, but at least the cold air did not tear up his throat anew. His lips and nose were a whole different matter.
Now that it was lighter, he looked around. There was nothing new or different from this place than the last one. Save for the thin wall of ice that hid a possible sanctuary. He got up and started moving along the ledge once more. At multiple points, the ice under him cracked and fell away into the depths below, but his mahee was active enough to keep his balance so he did not follow it down. He did not slip even once.
When the ledge ended, it was where the two opposing walls of the crevasse met. There was no more forward to go. The opposite wall did not have a ledge like his own wide enough to walk on. Looking up revealed a shaft of light breaking through the snow and ice above. Looking down revealed jagged edges and… steps. Handholds. A possible way down.
They disappeared into the darkness below. Another look up revealed similar edges going up. Toward the light. Thar would know what to do. He would know if those imperfections in the ice would be strong enough to hold his weight. He would be able to make them strong enough to do so if needed.
With his entire body hurting, D’Argen was very limited in options. He collapsed the metal pole and tested his bad leg. It was hurting too much. He was not able to put all of his weight on it without wanting to scream in pain. Fortunately, D’Argen had scaled the balconies and bridges of the castle in Evadia enough times to know he had the upper body strength to climb without his leg. It would be much harder and slower, but it was possible. He put away the metal pole and instead took out the climbing hooks Borianna had prepared for them before they started their climb.
Descending into the darkness did not feel comforting at all and by the time he was out of the path of reflecting light, the sun must have set. There was nothing but darkness above and darkness below. The ice wall he clung to was making his fingers numb, even through his gloves, and he was sweating too much. But he could not stay still in the darkness and wait. Every step down with his good leg was searching for a break in the ice and then he tested it with all his weight before unlatching one hook and slamming it into the ice, waiting to see if the break would cause problems, resting all of his weight on it, and then doing the same with the other hook. It was so awkward to descend with only one leg, but he was able to do it.
When his feet touched snow, he panicked for a moment. He reached as far behind him as he could and it was all hard, packed, and in a large area. He rested all his weight and sank only a bit before stopping. He was so tired. Without thinking too much about it, D’Argen dropped into the snow and took a deep breath. He immediately regretted it as his lungs complained.
Just a short break. Only an hour. It was the blink of an eye.
He kept his hands in the loops of the climbing hooks, the metal picks still stuck deep in the ice, and rested his forehead between them. Only a moment.
D’Argen woke to a pounding in his skull that felt like someone was trying to break down the castle walls. When he opened his eyes, it was to a wall of ice that was so bright he could see his own reflection in it. He noted that there was dried blood on his face and a darker patch of bruised skin on his cheek and chin, but what surprised him, even more, was how bright it was.
His entire body was stiff from the cold and the strange position, so he was slow to turn around. The snow he had felt under him was the bottom. There was no more darkness under him. He saw the walls of the crevasse split apart the further he looked and the ground between them was gone, but the corner he was in was solid. More importantly, the walls did not split into two. The main crevasse, the one he and Thar had fallen into and traversed, yawned out in front of him like a cavern of ice teeth, but there was a smaller one to the side from where a much brighter light shined.
D’Argen made sure the hooks were secure in the ice and most of his weight was on them before he dared to open his mouth. “Thar!” His voice was hoarse and the call was painful, but the light moved. The ice did not break further.
He felt his eyes watering with joy as the light started bouncing off the ice in an erratic pattern. He called again and could not help but smile when he saw a tiny figure appear in the darkness. He was so far away.
D’Argen almost collapsed in relief until he realized that Thar was standing on an edge. He unhooked himself from the climbing hooks, sat down in the snow, and crawled toward Thar. He reached the edge of his little reprieve too soon. The chasm of darkness separating him from Thar was huge.