And I knew He was close.
The Truth, by King Móráin I, AC55
***
The next morning, the party made their preparations for the final day’s journey. Mount Selyth was six hours’ ride south, through hills thickly wooded with snow-laden conifers. Despite the expected ease of this route, they still prepared as if it was to be a lengthy expedition. Padraig and Aislinn donned the colours of their respective houses, as if riding out to a great battle. Fionn wore his bright red cloak, fastened thickly against the cold to come, with layers of furs packed against his chest underneath. Both Farris and Nicole wore their thick, Simian armour, the former not acknowledging the latter as he did.
I opened up far too much last night, Farris told himself. Best to forget about it and focus on the journey.
They left Rosca Umhír far more armed than they had when they arrived. From the Silverback’s cache, Farris wore a holster around his hips with two firearms strapped within. Nicole bore the same, with a leather satchel over one shoulder, containing ammunition, and among other things, her round, explosive stone.
With each step he took, Farris could have sworn the frozen countryside grew quieter and quieter until a silence heavier than the hills themselves bore down upon them.
The road wound through frosty hedgerows and hills towards the great mountain. Like an abscess upon the land’s surface, swollen rocks rose over one another, forming a bloated mass of icy stone.
Farris rode next to Fionn, both having travelled in silence for most of the day. Eventually, Farris spoke.
“So, what are you gonna ask Him?” he asked.
Fionn didn’t respond but stared blankly ahead. Sure that he had heard, Farris went to ask again, but before he did, Fionn responded.
“Why?”
“Well, I thought it was worthwhile—” Farris cut himself off. He realised Fionn’s response was literal. Of course, no question other than Why? would be worth asking.
But could there even be an answer worth hearing.
Abruptly, the path turned towards the towering stone; walls of ice and rock higher than Farris could see. Despite his layers of chainmail and plate, a breeze more chilling than any before pierced his chest, causing the fur on the back of his neck to stand on end. Hastily, he pulled on his helm, cringing under the steel’s chill.
Through limited vision, Farris turned his attention to the road ahead, daring not to speak any further. Many said that none who climbed this mountain ever returned, but no one ever elaborated on why this was the case.
Higher and higher they went, the path becoming tougher to traverse with each step. Padraig had suggested that they tie up their mounts much earlier in their hike, but only when they reached an icy slope as steep as a wall, and Fionn made the same suggestion, did the others listen.
Farris took to the wall first, firmly planting two climbing spikes an arm’s reach overhead. Despite the weight of his armour, he pulled himself up with little effort, stabbing into the ice with each thrust. Aside from the cold, Farris had climbed walls in far worse conditions back in Penance.
With a thick hempen rope dangling from his waist, Farris reached the top of the incline after a few short minutes. Once he reached the summit, he planted the rope into the ground and signalled for the rest to climb up. Fionn struggled the most out of the other four, due to his mutilated fingers, but made it up in good time with help from them.
“Which way now?” asked Nicole.
Without saying a word, Fionn started on down one path, and the others followed. Farris couldn’t help but wonder what was going on inside that mage’s head. It seemed as if he was getting some sort of information from an unseen source, like guidance from a god.
I hope he knows what he’s doing, either way.
Onwards they went, walking on weary feet. Breathing came harder to Farris the higher they went, his damp breath bringing drips of warm water to the inside of his helm. He shuddered to think what it must smell like.
“Stop,” rasped Fionn abruptly. The mage halted the others with a half-raised arm. “There’s something up ahead.”
Squinting through his visor, Farris saw that this indeed was true. The path carried on forward, meandering through icy rocks like a river. At what would have been its bank, an old wooden structure stood.
“A guardhouse,” whispered Padraig. “I fear we may be —”
A hissing shot rang past Farris’s ear, followed by another. A third struck him in the forehead, violently shaking his helm and knocking him to the ground. He quickly scrambled to his feet, as a dozen more crossbow bolts rained down upon them.
“Farris, over here!” cried Nicole, taking refuge with the others behind a thick boulder jutting out from the ground.
Farris darted over as more projectiles shot towards him, one flashing right past his eyes. As he stumbled forward, he stole a quick glance up ahead, and saw six cloaked figures standing next to the guardhouse, and more climbing out.
Wraiths!
Farris swore under his breath as he dove behind the boulder with the others. Fire burned in Fionn’s hand as the mage launched flames blindly over his head, not daring to move from his hiding space. Padraig clutched a useless broadsword in one hand as Aislinn Carríga unsheathed her own.
“They’ve pinned us,” said Farris, quickly sticking his head out to examine what lay before them. “There’s no way over.”
“Look up!” cried Nicole, with terror in her voice. “There’s more!”
Indeed, high above them, along the icy valley walls, another group of Wraiths marched forward, crossbows in their hands.
“We need to retreat,” said Farris. “Leave and regroup!”
More bolts tore through the air as Farris gave the signal to flee. Everything seemed to slow as he ran, with Nicole and Fionn by his side, the other two not a step behind. The Firemaster roared as he threw more flames behind him, though these were met with another stream of silent bolts.
“Regroup!” cried Farris. “Over here—”
From the corner of Farris’s limited vision, Nicole glanced back up the valley, but as soon as she turned, a bolt struck her in the face with a sickening crack. She fell backwards, collapsing onto the stone floor with a clang of metal.
“No!”
Paying the salvo of ammunition little mind, Farris leapt to the ground where Nicole lay. A thick iron bolt extended out from her visor, barely small enough to fit. Blood poured out from the motionless helm, running down the snow-clad steel in drips.
