Star Wars_ The Old Republic_ Revan - Drew Karpyshyn [63]
They broke into two teams of four, the members of each team connected by a long length of climbing rope. Canderous, Revan, and two of the pilots made up the first group, Veela and the other three pilots the second. In addition to their winter clothing and gear, each climber had a twenty-kilo pack of supplies and rations strapped across his or her shoulders.
The two teams began their ascent simultaneously, moving along parallel paths up the sheer vertical surface of the wall of ice that made up the Spear’s face. Each meter of progress was earned only by hacking into the ice, chipping away with a sharp-ended pick to create a small hold for a hand or foot, then hammering a braced pulley into the wall to secure the climbing rope. The pattern was repeated again and again.
Progress was slow and exhausting; a single misstep could send a climber plunging to a quick and gruesome death. Theoretically, the ropes and pulleys connecting each team should allow the other three members to bear the weight if one should fall, but none of them was inclined to test the theory.
AFTER ONLY FIFTY METERS, the roaring wind was already strong enough to rip away their voices, forcing them to communicate with simple hand gestures. Despite the cold, Revan was sweating heavily beneath his layers of clothing, his body warmed by the steady physical exertion as they battled their way meter by painful meter toward the top.
At least he was safe from Veela for the time being. The difficult climb required total focus and concentration from every climber as they worked in concert to reach the peak. Even if the Ordo pilots were plotting against him, they simply wouldn’t be able to try anything until they reached the plateau at the top.
At the start of the climb the summit was invisible, lost in the swirl of snow and clouds. But by the fifth hour they had risen above the worst of the storm, giving them their first glimpse of the Spear’s peak, illuminated by Rekkiad’s pale orange sun.
They were well over halfway to their goal, but exhaustion and fatigue were beginning to impede their progress. As the altitude increased, the air became thinner, leaving all the climbers panting and gasping. The pack strapped to Revan’s back seemed to have doubled in weight, and he could feel the straps digging into his shoulders even through his clothes. But there was little to do except ignore the pain and concentrate on the climb.
Veela’s team was about fifty meters ahead. Suddenly one of their riders lost his footing and slipped. He dropped ten meters before the ropes abruptly stopped his fall, leaving him dangling helplessly at the end of the line. The abrupt stop had jerked his backpack partially around, twisting the shoulder straps so that his arms were partially pinned behind his back. Combined with the howling winds buffeting him back and forth, he was unable to reestablish a grip on the mountain.
Veela and the others began the slow and careful process of climbing back down to help him. It took about two minutes for Revan’s team to draw level with Veela and her crew as they backtracked to rescue the wayward climber. Realizing the situation was under control, Revan’s team pressed on toward the top.
Five minutes after the fall, Revan glanced back down to see that all four of Veela’s team were once again safely in position. They were not trying to regain the lead, but moved more slowly and cautiously than before.
Two hours later Revan’s team reached the top. Canderous was first; planting his feet firmly, he reached down to grab Revan’s arm and haul him up. Revan did the same for the woman trailing behind him, and she did the same for the man behind her.
The top of the first Spear was a featureless plateau of slick ice covered by a thin dusting of snow. Looking across the gap between the two Spears, Revan