Weddel Pass
She woke to hear him humming a battle song. The candle burned again, showing Andel sitting with his boots and sword strapped on. Seeing her awake, he winked and finished humming his verse. “Good morn, my love. Today we slip our enemy’s hand.”
“It’s still night,” she protested, sitting up.
“Yes. But for us, it’s morning. Are you awake?” She rubbed her forehead with a palm, nodding. “Good. I’ll get Huan. Meet me in the alley in ten minutes. And remember, we must keep quiet.” He blew out the candle so it wouldn’t shine in the hallway, then left. His silence on the squeaky wooden floor was impressive.
A bit of Andel’s adventurous mood had trickled into her heart, though her body cried against waking up. She dressed in the dark, running her hands along the bed and chair to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything. Then she made her way outside.
The cold gave her an unpleasant greeting. She realized it hadn’t been hard to sneak out of the inn because of the wind that was whistling about the house. It was the gusty sort that would bend trees and turn her face one moment, then fall still the next. And it was bitter cold. Andel appeared, leading Huan, who looked as sleepy as Entressa. He’d tied rags around her hooves to avoid making noise. Together they stepped out into the street.
Deep shadows hid them as they stole between houses. After a minute, the stockade came into view, a large dark wall with its top pointed like teeth. A hooded figure faced away from them, crouching over a little stove. Andel motioned for Entressa to wait.
The guard only struggled a little before the prince beat him senseless. Andel dragged him back into the shadows, scowling. “I don’t like taking a man from behind.” They found some cord and quickly tied him up, sitting the man in a dark corner. With any luck, he wouldn’t freeze to death and wouldn’t be noticed until the watch changed at dawn. Then, unbolting a little door, the royal pair went out into the wild darkness.
For the moment, the clouds were thin enough to let a little moonlight through, and by this they made their way. Resting indoors had strengthened the princess, so she walked beside her prince, helping him find a path. Dark pines quickly swallowed the town behind them, leaving only Andel, Entressa, Huan, and the raw November night.
“Shouldn’t we cover our tracks?” she asked. She knew they were leaving footprints that could easily be followed in daylight.
“Not anymore,” Andel said with a ring in his voice, “Our enemies know our course. Only speed will help us now. My fort in Astor awaits us. Did you ever run races, on foot or horse?” She shook her head, forgetting he couldn’t see in the dark. “Ah, the joy of it, to fly over country with only the finish in mind. Once, my friends and I raced from the north fort to Torestin. It’s a two-day march, and we made it before noon. When we crossed the gate, Baldwin was a mere five lengths ahead of me. Five lengths!” He swung his fist at the defeat, chuckling. “I fear I pushed my steed too hard at the beginning. Truly though, Baldwin is a lighter man than I.” Andel told a few more stories, to distract them from the cold march, Entressa thought. For her part, she sunk into her own thoughts, where it was still warm, only responding enough to keep him talking. Before long, they found the road to the Pass, settling into a steady plodding pace.
Trees grew few as they ascended, freeing the wind to whip across the rocks. It was at home here in the heights, where snow and ice scoured bare stones. It pried at the edges of their clothes, even seeping through Entressa’s thick cloak. The hand that held her hood in place felt chilled to the bone. Andel seemed to be faring better, but she could see exhaustion in his steady march and tight jaw.
When the sun would have risen above the opposite mountains—if not for the unbroken clouds—they stopped to rest in a sheltered hollow. Entressa wanted fire with a shivering passion but didn’t say so. She and Andel both knew the Pass was the most important thing now. Instead, they huddled together, trying to get warm.
In the growing light, Andel squinted down the mountain at the road they had climbed. “See,” he pointed, “At the slope’s beginning.” She looked. There, near the dark mass of Weddel town, something was moving, long like a snake but constantly changing shape. It was a line of horses. Soldiers. “The final race begins,” Andel said.
That morning was much like many others: gusty wind, aching joints, cold nose. Despite the discomfort, Entressa enjoyed the scenery as they climbed higher and higher, fancying they were marching straight up to the heavens. She glanced about in awe at the proud mountains standing veiled by mist, almost wishing she could live in this ferociously beautiful place. She could see the two peaks they would pass between if all went well today. They towered overhead like the grandest, severest doorway freedom could ever offer.
“We can make it,” Andel said often, marching them hard up the slope. Entressa grew weak and he made her ride Huan. They dumped much of their gear beside the road, allowing them to go faster. She begged him to be gentle to the horse, but he said that they must hurry, and the horse could handle a tough march. Huan seemed to understand their urgency. Noonday passed, and snowflakes flew in the wind. The soldiers came closer.
The trail narrowed. It twisted this way and that, following the mountain’s curves. Distant shapes faded white as a winter storm set in. From her seat in the saddle, Entressa had the leisure of watching behind, and occasionally a bend in the trail would reveal the pursuing soldiers. She could count their heads now, picking out each slate colored helmet through wind-driven snow. Their mounts didn’t appear tired. “Andel,” she said over the wind, “They’re coming.”
“We’ll make it,” he insisted, “Take heart, my love. It’s only a little further.” One cliff soared above them to the right, the other falling away to the left. She didn’t dare look at the drop that awaited them, should his feet slip. Entressa watched the snow swirl around his cloak as he marched steadily ahead. A few drifts already reached to his knees. Once, as he looked back at the trail, their eyes met. He gazed at her warmly and smiled; it seemed to her an odd time to smile.
At last, when she thought the wind couldn’t get any fiercer nor the trail any narrower, Andel stopped. He scowled back at the soldiers, who were just disappearing around a bend. Snowflakes stuck in his beard, and his cloak flapped like a flag on a breezy day. “No good,” the prince said, “We won’t make it.”
“What?” She cried into the wind, “We have to make it. You’ve been saying—”
He shook his head. “There’s five miles to go. They’re barely a bowshot behind us. We just won’t make it.” His eyes blazed with desperate affection. “I can hold them off. This narrow place is good for a one-man stand. You must go on.”
They stared at one another. Terror gripped her as the idea seeped into her mind. “No, no,” she shivered with cold and revision, “Don’t stay.”
His big, cold hand gripped her colder and smaller one. “My love, you must go. One of us must return to comfort our people. These days traveling with you have been the happiest of my life. You are my light, my love, my delight, and I’ll die before I let an evil hand touch you. Promise me, love. Go.”
Amid her shivers, she found she was nodding. “Follow the path,” Andel continued, “Find the fort in my valley. Be safe.” She nodded again. He squeezed her hand once more, then set his signet ring on her finger.
Andel stepped back. Snowflakes caught on his tears, joining the ones already snared in his beard. He drew his sword, shouting now, “Go, princess. Go, Queen Entressa of Esthena and Astor! Be well—be whole and prosperous all your days.” He pushed Entressa’s horse, slapping it in the rear to send her down the path.
She went. Swirling snow swallowed her world. Behind, the warrior continued to shout, preparing himself for battle. Before the wind took away his voice, she heard cries and clashing metal. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she rode on.
The horse followed the trail to the right, then the left. The prince’s absence was a silence louder than the storm. Each flake of ice hit like a stinging dart. She thought maybe her tears would freeze and seal her eyes shut. She ended up slumped in the saddle, hugging Huan’s neck. Darkness fell. The storm would kill them quickly if they stopped, so by some unspoken agreement, the girl and the horse plodded on.
Andel’s shouts re-echoed through her mind, with the sound of ringing steel, her last memory of him. I left him alone. The warrior’s strength was a match for any, but the soldiers would surely overrun him. And then—she cried aloud, gasping at the spike of cold air that stabbed her throat. Then her prince would die. Or, Sombron would drag him through the snow to a darker fate.
Death. . . What would it be like to die? How would it feel to rest, motionless, in the snow? Surely it would not be as horrible as Sebastian. She hadn’t thought about Sebastian in a while, but now his face leapt into her mind. She could taste his lies, his trickery, and the way he pulled her into every dark pit. Her body ached, remembering his hands. Sombron will pay a fortune for your head. He’s probably living like a king now.
Andel didn’t deserve this. He should have left me with him. Ruled the kingdoms without me. Now they were both lost. The princess is dead, Sebastian had said.
She fell into a doze sometime that night. She thought she was dancing one minute, marching the next. The horse walked upside down. Someone sat in the cold, bound and gagged. A host of giggling masks watched her with eyes of black glass. She dreamed a mountain of ice had fallen on her, and a hundred squirrels were clawing to dig her out. They’ll never reach me in time. The air is running out. Her fingers no longer screamed in pain; gradually they went numb and tingly. The snowflakes ceased to bombard her face. Deep stillness overtook her mind as her heartbeat grew weak. Probably, I’m dead. The thought pricked her with fear, but not enough to rouse her.
The endless pounding halted at last. Silence held the girl like a womb, giving only a cold awareness of floating in the dark. What now?
Pain in her joints told her she was still alive. She opened her eyes, wrestling her head up, cheek rubbing Huan’s coarse mane. The moon hung low between the horse’s ears, lighting a white valley through hazy clouds. Silver light was everywhere, and deep shadows. One great shadow stood to the side, rising from the white floor like a small square mountain. It was the fort. Andel had told her to go there.
She looked behind, past Huan’s rump. A trail of long horse-prints led through the snow toward the mountains. She had made it. Huan the sensible horse had walked all the way across the Pass, and now the fort was nearby. She managed to squeeze the horse’s sides and turn its head toward the dark mass. “Go, Huan,” she said through stiff lips. At least she would obey the prince’s last request.
There followed five minutes of painful bumping, the horse’s hooves swishing through snow. Then, the blast of a horn. Men’s voices, and firelight, and icy clothing replaced by warmth. Words of wonder at the jewel on her finger. Filled with sorrow, she slipped back into darkness’ embrace.