To Break A Curse

Chapter 14

We start early the next morning before the sun rises.

"Is this the only path through?" I ask, out of breath. The steep incline of the narrow trail seems to stretch forever up the mountain.

"It is unless you want to fall to your death," Fale responds in front of me. "And we've still got at least a half a day's journey ahead of us to get through the range."

I groan inwardly.

"Aye, we'll be there before you know it. Just focus on your next step. That's what I like to tell myself when I'm growin' weary," Bo says.

"Trust me, I can't focus on anything but my next step." The pain in my toe has grown more intense. It's all I can seem to concentrate on. Well, that and the blisters on my hand, rubbing against the wood of the walking staff.

The higher we climb, the sparser the trees become, allowing a clearer view of the expanse around us. Tall peaks jut upward in the distance, poking out of thick layers of clouds and mist. The temperature has also dropped significantly and I shiver as light snowflakes begin to fall onto the bare skin of my arms and cheeks. Tempted to get my cloak, I change my mind when I feel Auggie nestle deeper inside the bag.

The pressure of the air thins, making it more difficult to breathe. Even my ears become muffled with the vast change of pressure.
No one says anything for the next few miles, but even Fale's heavy breathing is now audible. The only good thing about the cold is how it starts to numb your body after a while. I can hardly feel the pain in my toe now.

Once we reach the top of the inclination, Fale stops and I almost run into him.

"See that peak there?" he asks us, pointing toward the tallest mountain peak not more than 10 miles ahead of us. "That's where we need to go. Valas Miran lies just below it, at the base of the Cold Mountain."

"The Cold Mountain," Bo repeats. "Well, you sure got the cold part right."

Laughing, I turn to him and laugh even harder when I see his beard and eyebrows coated in a thick layer of snow. "You look like Father Christmas!"

Swiping a hand over his beard, he chuckles and dusts off the snow not frozen to it. "If I'm Father Christmas, what does that make you?"

"I don't have a beard. Oh—" A cold, wet sensation prickles my hand as I touch my braid. Pulling my hair over my shoulder, white strands of frozen hair appear in the corners of my eyes. I can only guess how I look. "Oh, I don't know, an old lady probably."

"It makes you both look like fools on the verge of frostbite," Fale states.

Turning back to Fale, I put a hand over my mouth to hold back a snort. His once black hair is now completely white, along with his brows, and cheeks the color of ripe tomatoes. "Speaking of frostbite— you look like Jack Frost!" I say, laughing.

Bo's laugh rumbles from behind us. "Jack Frost, the Old Lady, and Father Christmas. What a group!"

"I reckon they'll write a storybook about us one day," I say.

Fale's lip twitches upward, almost in a smile, but immediately vanishes when he meets my eyes. "They can't write a book about us if we're dead. Let's go," he commands, already taking off.

***

Within an hour or so, the monotonous ups and downs of the hike put me in a daze, so I don't even notice when a sharp spear is lowered directly in front of my face.

"Who goes there?" A low voice bellows. "Where do your allegiances lie?"

At least eight men surround us, wearing armor and holding spears pointed at all three of us. I gulp and my anxiety rises, making it difficult to breathe. Without thinking, I move to take a step back, but something pricks the back of my neck. I freeze.