Reaping The Red Heir

24. When The Walls Close In

The biting cold of Emberhorn Summit cut through my layers. Snowflakes fell steadily, covering everything in a pristine, white blanket. Heaven huffed, her breath forming visible clouds in the frigid air as I dismounted. I patted her neck, feeling the icy chill seep through my gloves.

"We made it, girl," I said, though the climb ahead loomed dauntingly. The steep path winding up the mountain was treacherous, especially in this weather.

"It is here that we must part," I murmured. She seemed to understand, her eyes watching me with trust. I pulled out an extra blanket from my pack and draped it over her back, securing it tightly.

Fastening her lead to a sturdy tree, I tied a knot that would yield easily under strain, allowing her the chance to escape should danger arise.

"Should fate hinder my return, let it be you who survives," I whispered to her.

The snow crunched under my boots as I began to ascend, each step requiring careful placement to avoid slipping on the icy rocks. When it got too steep, I retrieved the climbing gear slung over my shoulder.

"Rope first," I said aloud, recalling Deryn's instructions. Now, I was eternally thankful for all those climbing excursions he had insisted I join with him and his friends.

I began by feeding the rope through my harness and tying a secure figure-eight knot. This allowed for an anchor that could be adjusted as I ascended. This arrangement would serve as my lifeline, shielding me from the fatal consequences of a misstep or tumble.

I set out to find the most secure spot to drill in my first anchor point. The cold stone sent a chill through my gloves as I searched for any cracks or gaps that might hinder the integrity of my anchor. I wedged the bit into the craggy rock face. Satisfied with the placement, I used a rock to hammer it in with swift strikes. The shriek of metal on stone rang out in the frigid air, echoing through the silent forest.

Once the anchor point was firmly planted, I fed the rope through the locking carabiner, giving it a few tugs to ensure it held fast. Securing the rope to my harness, I began my ascent.

Hand over hand, I climbed, placing my feet carefully in the niches nature had carved out. Finding myself at the extent of my rope's reach, I took a moment to secure another anchor point above me, repeating the process I had performed below. It was a slow and arduous process, and keeping my mind on the task at hand was a chore. I was never one for patience, and I had places to be and creatures to stab. I hummed a jaunty tune to pass the time, my mind drifting to the many creative ways I could skewer the Liche.

About halfway up, I paused to catch my breath and glanced back at Heaven. She was a small figure now, standing patiently at the base of the summit.

The wind picked up, howling through the rocky crags and whipping snow into my face. My fingers were raw despite the gloves, and I had to keep flexing them to maintain circulation. After what felt like an eternity but was likely only an hour or so, I finally reached a ledge that provided some shelter from the wind.

I fumbled with my pack, fingers clumsy from the cold, and pulled out the map. Unfolding it carefully, I shielded it from the wind with my body. The parchment was old and fragile, its edges frayed and the ink smudged from years of use.

Tracing the route with a gloved finger, I found the symbol marking Emberhorn Summit and the intricate lines denoting the labyrinth beneath it. The Lich's labyrinthine was a twisted maze of passages and chambers buried deep within the mountain. According to the map, the entrance should be nearby.

I scanned my surroundings, comparing them to the sketch on the map. The jagged rocks and snowy terrain matched the crude drawing almost perfectly. I squinted through the swirling snow and spotted a narrow crevice partially hidden by a protruding boulder.