Darkvision - Bruce R. Cordell [70]
Straight ahead, across the river valley, rose the slopes of an even taller, broader peak. Its base was hidden in forested foothills, but most of the mountain rose skyward, free of any covering of greenery. Instead, the highest portions of the peak were clothed in the white of eternal ice.
The sun on the snow dazzled Kiril's eyes, and she dropped her gaze away from the miles of towering rock. She'd see it a lot closer soon enough.
Despite their pledge of daylight travel, clouds blew in from the west and caught them at the highest point on the pass the next day, just as they moved beyond the last of the scattered, skeletal trunks bearing needles on only one side that hardly qualified as trees. Whiteness enveloped their vision-the belly of a cloud blanketed the world, snow swirled, and the temperature plummeted.
"You can't catch a break, can you?" Kiril asked the sleeping form of her employer. She'd strapped the dwarf into his seat, and his bearded head lolled with each footstep of the destrier. Wind lashed across the destrier's back, stinging the elf's eyes with sharp snow. She noticed that new droplets of ice caked Thormud's hair and skin, so Kiril wrapped the dwarf in another blanket, the last.
"How much farther?" she called ahead at the dark shape of Prince Monolith. The elemental thumped through the gathering snow without the least difficulty. Great furrows trailed behind Monolith on either side of his path, which made the way easier for their mineral destrier.
"We must move forward until we get off the highest portion of the pass. The cold does not concern me, but your flesh will prove less resistant."
Kiril nodded, "You're quick on the uptake. Pick up the pace, will you? Thormud's almost frozen solid."
Monolith didn't respond, nor did his pace vary from the steady, ground-eating lope he'd first adopted. The destrier continued to follow in the prince's trail, but even with the furrow, its gait began to deteriorate as the dwarf's health flagged. Kiril hoped their mount's ability to carry passengers wasn't contingent on Thormud's health.
The swordswoman shivered, then struck her forehead with the heel of her palm as an idea occurred. What a moron! She'd had the means to warm the dwarf all along.
She plucked the flask from her hip, twirled off the metal cap, and tipped the opening to Thormud's lips. He unconsciously swallowed the few tiny sips that Kiril allowed him. She had a pull herself. The warmth hit her belly and immediately spread to her extremities. That was better! She gave the dwarf another small sip.
Kiril laughed. After all the times the dwarf had given her his sour look for drinking too much and too often. It was a small revenge, but necessary if the dwarf were to pull through. If he did, she'd tell him how she'd been forced to give him spirits enough to warm his blood.
The elf shrugged. She knew drinking from the flask was only a temporary measure. Alcohol didn't generate warmth-it merely allowed the reservoir of warmth stored in the core to be liberated. By drinking the hard stuff, you'd warm up your fingers and toes in the short term, but freeze to death all the sooner.
She hoped Prince Monolith hurried. She didn't want to have to bury the dwarf at the top of the world, under a drift of icy snow.
Flakes swirled across her eyes, obscuring her vision.
* * * * *
The dwarf's health improved markedly after getting down off the top of the pass. Thormud sat in his seat, blinking at the harsh sun and drinking frequently from his waterskin.
The destrier's pace was steadier as it followed the thudding steps of Prince Monolith down the dry path of a prehistoric, nameless river. The mountains on this side of the pass were nearly empty of vegetation, unlike the southward face they had ascended.
Ahead and below lay the flat face of Raurin. They were so high above