The prince dropped his pack and fished out a coil of rope stripped from the sledge’s rigging. He tossed an end to Frell, then crossed to the collapsed section of stairs. He paused at the brink. He rubbed a chin, clearly conspiring how best to traverse the span, likely anticipating his every move.
* * *
HOW CAN I get out of this? What was I thinking?
Faced with the task ahead, Kanthe realized the absurdity of his boast a breath ago. His heart pushed into his throat and pounded there, as if scolding him for his foolishness. Not only had most of the width of the narrow stairs broken away, but in the middle, two steps were completely gone. It looked like the gap-toothed leer of a villain mocking him for his false bravado.
“We can find another way,” Frell whispered to him.
Kanthe firmed his grip on the rope. He felt all their eyes upon him, especially the girl who might be his sister. His face heated up. In the past, shame could never touch this Prince in the Cupboard. He had heaved his stomach empty in taverns or woken in beds fouled by his own piss and filth. Back then, he had simply wiped his mouth or arse and carried on, caring little what others thought. But over the course of this trek, somewhere along the way, something new had taken root inside him. Maybe it was being free of his brother’s shadow, or away from the king’s ridicule, or maybe it was simply the nobility of the others that had stirred what was inside him all along.
No matter, he refused to back away from the challenge. Whether it was newfound pride or some anger at his father for trying to murder him, Kanthe took a step to the edge. He turned his back to the wall, reached a boot to the first broken step, and tested his weight on the short stub of rock. Satisfied, he moved to the next, then another. Slowly he scooted his way until he reached the gap of missing steps. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, knowing he would need to leap that open stretch to reach to the far stub.
I can do this.
He opened his eyes and glanced back to the others. They stared at him, unblinking, likely all holding their breath. The girl’s blue eyes shone with a confidence he did not feel. She gave him the barest nod.
He sapped what courage he could from her and turned away with a swallow. He lifted a leg, bent the other, and hopped sideways across the gap toward the next stub. He landed one-footed, expecting it to give way, but it miraculously held—which could not be said of his balance.
He teetered away from the wall.
This is how I die …
Then a dark shape dove out of the mists and slammed into his chest. The bat bounced off of him and battered back with a frantic flap of wings. Whether it was the impact or simply his own startled terror, Kanthe tilted back to the wall and firmed his poise, bringing his other foot down.
He panted for three breaths on the lone stub, before hurriedly scaling the last of the broken steps to reach an intact landing. He dropped to his knees there and began shaking all over.
So much for a brave front.
Still, no one mocked him. Finally, he rolled to his rear, searched around, and found a small stunted tree rooted in cracks in the wall. He tested its hold, then wrapped his rope’s end around the gnarled trunk. Frell took out the slack and did the same, but around a spar of rock jutting overhead.
With a hand bridge in place, Nyx scurried across next, so surefooted it didn’t look like she even needed to run her hands along the rope. Kanthe caught her on the other side and drew her into a hug. She stiffened but didn’t fight him.
“Thank you,” he said.
She frowned, misunderstanding. “I wasn’t the one guiding the bat, if that’s what you think. He did that on his own.”
He rubbed his chest, doubting if that was entirely true. Over the past two nights, he had noted how the creature, surely lice ridden and fraught with diseases, had nestled with the girl as she slept. He had heard it gently cooing and squeaking, which she seemed to imitate in her sleep, as if the two were knitting further together, binding one to the other. So, though she might not have willed the bat to his aid, maybe it was driven by her desire anyway.
Still, that was not the reason he thanked her. He remembered her small nod to him, the confidence shining in her eyes.
For me.
It was something he couldn’t remember ever seeing in another’s eye, certainly not directed at him. That look, more than anything, got him across that damnable gap.
She brushed past him and waved to her friend, the journeyman from school.
“You can do it, Jace! I know you can!”
There was that confidence again in another. He felt a stab of irritation. Maybe she throws it around to everyone. His face reddened, knowing his thought had been uncharitable and mean.
To make up for it, he called over to Jace. “It’s not that difficult. Even my sister did it easily enough.”
Nyx scowled at him, clearly assuming he was mocking both her and her friend.
Kanthe started to explain, then gave up.
It’s got to be my tone. I have to work on that.
Still, the trepidation in Jace’s face firmed to determination. Sometimes anger was better than courage. The journeyman grabbed hold of the rope and accepted the challenge. He was not as deft as Nyx, needing the rope to keep his balance, especially over the gap, but he managed to reach them.
Nyx hugged her friend.
Again, Kanthe felt that flicker of irritation.
Sard them both.
Frell soon joined their group and clapped Kanthe on the back. “Well done.”
He accepted the praise sullenly. Frell shifted to the front and started off again. Kanthe lagged behind to shake the rope and loosen the loops around the spar of rock. He gathered the freed rope and continued after the others.
The bat sped through the mists alongside him for a breath.
He glowered at it. “If you’re waiting for thank you, too, you can feck off.”
As they climbed, the mists thickened, making the steps even more treacherous. It wasn’t just due to the dampness alone. The mix of fog and spray watered a riotous garden. Thorny vines draped from walls or snaked underfoot. Flowering shrubs sprouted everywhere, both on steps and walls. The stunted trees of the lower chasm grew into giants here, with their roots kneeing everywhere, as if trying to push them off of the steps.
Their trespass disturbed scores of rooks nesting in burrows in the walls and a handful of hawks perched in the branches above. Furry weasels and other vermin scurried from their path. A few snakes hissed and spat. He even spotted a dwarf deer bound away, leap to a rock in the river, and vanish into a copse on the far side.
It appeared the forests grew even thicker as the stairs vanished into the mists ahead. Somewhere up there a leonine yowl warned them away. Kanthe pictured the distant forests of Cloudreach spilling down into the chasm as fiercely as the river roaring next to the stairs.
They finally reached a wide landing next to a waterfall. Frell lifted an arm and called for a stop. They all needed a rest before tackling the remainder of the forest-choked chasm. No one complained.
Jace looked like a drowned dog. He stood with his back to the climb, as if unable to face it. But that was not the reason. He pointed back the way they’d come. “Nyx, look.”
They all turned.
Through the mists, the chasm walls framed the last glimpse of the swamps of M?r. Nyx’s expression turned desolate, and Kanthe wanted to shove Jace into the river for reminding the girl of all she was leaving behind, especially who she was leaving behind. He didn’t know if he shared any of Nyx’s blood, but he knew two men—Bastan and Ablen—who did not, yet they remained her truest brothers.