The Source (Creasan #1)

Chapter 20

The climb did not get any easier the higher they went. The wind became harsher, the terrain became more precarious, the air became thinner. Three times, Thea's fingers had slipped, and three times, Fendrel had to catch her.

They still hadn't spoken since that night in the forest, but it almost didn't even matter. Clearly, they had bigger problems at the moment.

They went higher and higher, until each breath became a struggle. Thea had never felt so lightheaded in her entire life. It was like that feeling one gets from getting up too quickly, but multiplied by a hundred. She clenched her jaw and pushed herself to keep going.

The days they couldn't find a place to rest, they just kept climbing. For two days straight they put one hand in front of the other. Thea's lips had become frozen and she had to blink several times to separate her lashes enough to see.

They were exhausted, dehydrated, under-oxygenated. Thea didn't know how much more of this they were going to be able to take.

"What's that?" Fendrel shouted up to Thea.

With furrowed brows, she searched up ahead for what Fendrel could possibly be referring. And then she saw it: a dark shadow against the white rocks of the mountain. Thea's eyes widened. "A person!"

Fendrel looked stunned. "There's someone else up here?"

"What!" Isolde did her best to hurry up beside the prince.

He repeated, "There's someone else up here."

Isolde blinked in surprise and then turned to relay the message to the others.

But the outline of the person wasn't moving.

Fendrel spoke the words Thea was thinking: "Do they need help?"

Only one way to find out. "Hey!" Thea called as she headed in that person's direction. "Are you okay?" But the wind snatched her words away almost immediately after they'd left her lips. She turned back to Fendrel. "Keep going. I'll go check it out."

Fendrel shook his head. "We stay together."

"We don't have time—"

"Together," he repeated, and began working his way toward the climber.

Thea didn't have the energy or will to argue, so she simply allowed him to follow her in the direction of the climber. "Hey!" she tried again. "Are you injured? Hello!"

But as she drew closer, her blood stuttered in her veins, sending a shiver down her spine that was not due to the weather. It was clear it was a man, and he hadn't stirred at all as they approached. She yelled back to the others, "I think he's hurt!"

Fendrel sent the message along to Isolde who hurried to catch up with the front of the line.

But then Thea pulled herself right alongside the man and her lungs stopped working altogether.

His mouth was hanging open, his eyes were nearly as pale as the snow without even a hint as to what color they used to be. His lips were a deep purple, the veins beneath his skin scrawling down like marble. His fingers were frozen into the mountain, almost seeming as if they were part of the rocks. He had no hair left on his head, no beard on his face.

But he should have. Thea knew that he should have deep red hair on his head and framing his chin. He should have brown eyes so bright they seemed to shimmer. He should have strength in his hands, pride in his shoulders.

Thea knew this because the dead man before her was her father.

She covered her mouth with a gasp, jerking back so hard she nearly lost her footing.