Mara’s expression hardened. He stood. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Fine.” I rubbed my head. I knew I would get in trouble if I was caught speaking this way to a guest, but fortunately there were no nosy relatives within earshot. “Did you hear what Metok said or not?”
Mara was turning to leave, but he stopped. His ego was too large for him to resist the urge to be the bigger person. “Someone took a tumble off the rocks, trying to recover a calf. The herdsman’s son.”
I flew to my feet. “What?”
The remaining guests stared at me. Biter, who had been left to peck at the scraps in Lusha’s bowl, took fright and sailed out the window. I followed by a more circuitous route, through the kitchen and out the back door that led to Aunt Behe’s house. I turned right, off the path and onto the open mountainside.
I soon slowed. I didn’t know where Tem was, and I wasn’t wearing my chuba or heavy boots. Snowflakes, sparse and fragile, swirled around me, but there was a chill in the wind that hinted at worse to come.
An echoing caw in the distance. Ignoring my lurching stomach, I ran toward the sound, skirting the stone wall that lined the farmer’s fields at the edge of the village. As I rounded the western flank of the mountain and began running uphill, the wind hit me in the face. It was bitterly cold, and sent me staggering back a step. I thought about retreating home, at least to retrieve my chuba.
Tem.
I lowered my head and ran on. Three ravens flew past, heading for home. Lusha, Metok, and Father were not far behind. A group of house dragons trotted alongside them, their lights throwing misshapen shadows everywhere. Father shouted and grabbed my shoulder.
“Kamzin! What are you doing here?”
I wrenched away. “Where’s Tem?”
“Metok saw him fall from Kunigai Spur, but he can’t find the spot again in this weather.”
“We’re going to the village to gather a search party,” Lusha shouted in my ear.
“What?” I stared at her. “You can’t leave Tem alone out here!”
Lusha made an angry noise. “Don’t be ridiculous. This storm is—”
“Leave the dragons,” I said. “Leave them and go. I’ll keep looking.”
Metok and Father were already retreating, assuming, as any sane person would, that Lusha and I would follow. A wisp of cloud fluttered over us like a wet sheet. I grabbed two dragons by the scruffs of their necks as they ran past me.
“Go!” I yelled at Lusha. “Bring help. I’m not leaving him.”
Lusha’s face was a dark fury, but she didn’t argue with me further. With one smooth motion, she swept off her fur-lined chuba and settled it on my shoulders.
“Lurker will stay with you,” she said. The raven alighted on a rock by my feet. “She’ll lead us back to you, if anything happens.”
I nodded. “Thank—”
But Lusha was already gone, leaping lightly down the slope.
I shrugged on the chuba, immediately grateful for its warmth. Only my face was still cold. I tugged the collar up and carried on, whistling for the dragons. I didn’t pay Lurker any heed—she would track me more easily than I could track her.
It was only a short climb to Kunigai Spur, which jutted out over the valley separating the village from Nalash, one of the mountain’s lower peaks. Only my own knowledge of the terrain told me that, however; Nalash was completely obscured by the clouds. Beyond the spur, the ground fell away steeply, a curve of slippery rock that ended in a sheer drop to the valley floor.
I squinted, trying to see through both the darkness and the pain of my pounding headache. My stomach roiled as if trying to compete with the fury of the wind. I swallowed, forcing myself to ignore the sensation, to focus on the only thing that mattered.
Normally, there were sentries stationed nearby, but I wasn’t surprised they had decided to seek shelter indoors. On clear nights, this side of the mountain afforded a good view of the darkly forested lands to the east—the edge of the Nightwood, the witches’ forest. It had been a long time since the witches had attacked Azmiri, but nevertheless, Elder liked to keep a watch out, particularly given the village’s position. If the witches invaded the Empire, they would almost surely travel through the Amarin Valley between Azmiri and its neighboring mountain, Biru. At one time, the emperor had stationed soldiers here to maintain a constant watch on the enemy. But the witches were broken and beaten, and those soldiers had more important tasks now.
I passed the crumbling half walls that the sentries used as lookouts. These had been proper structures once, destroyed by the dark, unnatural fire that swept the village more than two centuries ago. It had been witches who had set that fire. They had always hated us—or rather, they hated the emperor and his ever-expanding territory. They had sought to destroy the village, and very nearly succeeded. The stone the fire touched remained warm to this day, steam ghosting off its surface as the snow melted.
Shouting Tem’s name, I walked the length of the cliff. The snow was falling heavily now, and soon my feet were soaked in my flimsy sandals.
I let out a cry of frustration. I wasn’t going to find Tem this way. No, the only option was to climb down that sheer face to see if Tem had come to rest on a ledge. I didn’t think about the other possibility—that he was resting far below in that dark valley, beyond anyone’s aid.
Just below the spur was a shallow depression that folded into the cliffside. I lowered myself into it, digging my fingers into the rocky soil. The dragons chirped at me, wondering if they should follow. The wind was too strong for them to fly safely, and though they were stout climbers, I didn’t want to take the chance that they would fall and leave me completely in the dark.
“Stay there,” I said, shooing them away from the edge.
I crabbed sideways over a boulder that stuck out from the slope like a knuckle. I could just make out the tips of the pine trees that crowned the lower slopes of Azmiri—trees that eventually, many miles away, darkened and deepened, and became the witches’ forest.
The height didn’t bother me, but the visibility did. My eyes and nose were streaming, and snowflakes kept collecting on my lashes, blotting my view. I wiped my face on the sleeve of Lusha’s chuba and lowered myself down the cliff, one foothold at a time. Once I was out of the shadow of the overhang, I paused. Numerous ledges jutted out from the mountainside, and here and there a gnarled tree that Tem could have caught hold of. But it was so dark—I couldn’t tell a rock from a motionless body.
“Tem!” I hollered.
My voice echoed back at me. I strained my ears trying to hear over the howl of the wind. I thought I heard someone reply, but I couldn’t be certain.
“Tem!”
“Need a hand?”
I started, casting my gaze around for the source of the voice. It came to rest on none other than River Shara.