The Fickle Winds of Autumn
30. The Ironway Pass

Kira’s legs ached as she scrambled up the rough uneven slope of the mountainside; the bright chilly air tickled through her lungs. It had been hard going these last two days, but they could not be certain how determined the slavers would be in their vengeful desire to re-capture her - especially after the injuries they had sustained. Her nose wrinkled with the acrid memory of Dak’s melting beard; his painful cries still echoed through her ears; she shuddered and clambered upwards.

Ellis’s old boots flapped and rubbed at her ankles; she could have done with a bit more padding - but at least they protected her feet; his tunic too had started to feel steadily more comfortable.

The dense woodland trees of the lower foothills had thinned out and now only an occasional isolated shrub or bush poked out on the exposed rocky surface. Just ahead of her, even this sparse vegetation disappeared, as the ground was littered with a thick grey slithering of loose shale which tumbled and cascaded down the incline of the mountain and formed a barren strip of shifting terrain.

Beyond this, two weather-rounded pillars of sturdy rock marked the entrance to the Ironway Pass - a narrow-looking shelf of stone which clung precariously to the sheer side of the tallest mountain of an imposing range.

An impatient East Wind battered their sparkling fractured peaks, swirling and dashing the snow-laden clouds hard into their bleak summits.

Aldwyn had informed her that the Pass would lead them directly over the mountains, back towards her convent - but snow covered these daunting peaks even through the summer, so they would skirt around instead.

Kira rubbed her arms; her shivering goosebumps were glad that they weren’t about to face such an intimidating challenge.

A small depression nestled into the mountain incline, halfway up the barren strip of shale; its cradling hollow offered shelter from the thin wind.

“We should stop here and rest for a while,” said Aldwyn.

“We might as well eat while we’re here,” Ellis suggested.

“Very well - but once we’ve got our bearings and recovered, we must push on before night - this is no place to be caught by the slavers or the weather - there’s no natural cover or trees to hide in.”

Kira’s grateful limbs savoured the relief of sitting. The brittle flat flakes of grey shale rattled and crunched beneath her weight, but made a comfortable enough seat. She rubbed her calves and flexed her toes deep inside her boots.

“Are you sure we couldn’t risk just going straight on over the Pass?” Ellis asked. “I mean, it would be much quicker than skirting around the mountain - we could get to Kira’s convent in a few days.”

“No,” Aldwyn replied. “We must avoid the mountains at this time of year - the winter storms will soon be upon us and we must not get caught exposed on those treacherous cliffs in bad weather. As you know, the widow Johnstone’s bunions have been playing up recently, which is a sure sign that we’re in for some turbulent conditions. Besides, over the years, I’ve heard many strange rumours concerning those mountains, and my old bones are in no mood to take risks.”

Kira’s curiosity shifted and bubbled.

“Oh? What sort of rumours?” she asked.

“Probably nothing. Tavern gossip about unexplained disappearances - you know how these people like to exaggerate to make themselves seem brave and well-travelled. But it’s probably best not to put such stories to the test. We will turn west from here and skirt around the mountains - the way is a little longer, but that will be our safest and easiest option - and then, once we’re around the range, it will be all downhill towards Burisdon - from there we can take the road for Corborough.”

“Perhaps we could risk a fire to warm ourselves and cook?” said Ellis. “There’s been no sign of the slavers following us lately - they must have given up by now.”

“Oh yes!” said Kira. “It would be so nice to thaw out a little - I’m sure the slavers have given up by now.”

“Very well - but just a small one,” said Aldwyn, “and make sure the wood is dry to keep the smoke to a minimum. If they are following us, we don’t want to give our position away.”

Ellis busied himself with a few sparse scattered twigs, and soon Kira’s fingers stretched and delighted in the dancing warmth of a fire.

The rest was certainly a welcome one - her legs had noticed the steady uphill exertion. She had hoped all this walking would end when she escaped the slavers - but this was altogether different - true, it was tiring, but she had food and was in good company - some of the views had been dramatic and memorable - much more the type of thing she had imagined stuck back in the boredom of the dim cloisters.

She gazed back down at the view of the valley they had just ascended: the forested slopes tumbled away below them; the trees stood resplendent in the finery of their autumn colours - dazzling shades of red and orange and yellow; the prominent deep greens of the firs and pines in stark contrast to the bright glory of their neighbours.

A weak golden sun illuminated the landscape - its purity had already gently warmed the loose torrents of grey shale that she sat on - and the glorious scene was all the more satisfying with the warming knowledge that she had conquered it.

Her relaxed shoulders fell back into place; she breathed deeply; a serene sense of profound joy dissolved through her. And then a muted ripple of disturbance - until that very moment, she had not really known what it was to simply be alive. To sit and have time for reflection.

How could she have guessed - even in the vivid depths of her imagination - that such scenes and emotions as this had awaited her beyond the high convent walls?

Yes, those walls.

The daily routines and lessons - they had surrounded and enfolded her; they had kept her safe from any harm, but had cut her off from the exhilaration of the outer-world - and perhaps cut her off from exploring her own true self.

Perhaps that was even what the exacting regime was designed to do?

To suppress and inhibit self-reflection, not just to prevent the demons of idleness from visiting?

An itching irritation had briefly rinsed through her when Aldwyn mentioned Corborough.

Was she certain she wanted to return to there?

And if she did, what then?

A strict, regulated life of chores and lessons and the dictatorship of the daily bells?

To live out all her days behind those restricting boundaries?

To feel herself age and transform into something she was not?

To lose the joys of her imagination and become grey and wrinkled like Sister Ioria?

Or even worse - to become like Sister Amelia Constance?

It was cold there on the exposed mountainside - but it was an honest cold - not the damp insidious lonely chill trapped inside the stone walls of her chamber.

But outside the convent, how could she earn a living and get food?

She had no trade - perhaps reading a little - but the outer-world was filled with such uncertainty, dangers seemed to lurk behind its boundless beauty and intrigue.

Perhaps there was something to be said for prayers and lessons and three meals a day?

Her annoying contradictory doubts swirled and resonated and anguished.

The loose shale rattled as Aldwyn shuffled and stood.

“Well, we can’t stay here all day - we need to press on now and find somewhere less exposed to spend the night.”

Kira levered her weary limbs up and dusted herself; the brittle fragments of stone crunched and gave way unevenly beneath her wobbling feet.

Ellis peered back down the slope towards the shrubs which straggled out beyond the shale-line.

“Wait! What was that?” he said. “There it is again. Just over by that bush.”

Kira strained her eyes in the direction Ellis had indicated.

The vegetation shook and rustled faintly.

Perhaps it was just a playful wind? Especially this high up.

A low growling sound accompanied the movement.

Kira’s stomach gripped with a nervous unease.

Could the slavers have tracked them with dogs?

A black nose and grey muzzle poked out through the leaves, above a pair of piercing eyes.

A large wolf emerged from its hiding place; it sniffed the air and eyed them; a pink tongue hung from its powerful jaws.

A surge of anxious goosebumps prickled along Kira’s skin.

The wolf lifted its head and howled a plaintive visceral cry, splintering the peaceful stillness of the mountainside. Several more snarling shadowy outlines revealed themselves from the bushes below.

Kira held her breath; dissonant fingers of dread crept and wriggled across her body.

“Quickly!” said Aldwyn. “Along the mountain path! It’s our only chance!”

The shale rippled and clattered down in the wake of Aldwyn’s scrambling feet.

Ellis sprung up and kicked the fire in the direction of the wolves, scattering a semi-circular barrier of ash and ember and smoke.

Kira’s fearful heart thudded as she scrabbled up the ridge behind Aldwyn; the rivulets of grey stone crumbled and cascaded away beneath her pounding terrified steps.

She glanced back; the wolves had broken their cover and were bounding up the incline after them; their powerful hardened paws seemed better adapted to sprinting up the unstable currents of gravel than her own legs; they howled a menacing pursuit; a sinister terror flared through her shivering body; she faced forward and ran for her very life.

The pulse and rattle of Ellis’s steps was rapidly catching up with her; her anxious eyes turned back to check for him. Several of the smaller wolves had paused nervously at the glowing fire embers, but the larger and hungrier ones simply leapt over the smouldering deterrent and were already devouring the ground between them and their prey; thick plumes of vapour billowed out from their panting, ravenous mouths.

But she must focus - she must run and not be tempted to look back.

Aldwyn was clear of the sliding, cascading shale; he charged past the two pillars and dashed along the narrow mountainside pathway.

Kira had no time to wonder at his surprising mobility; her own legs thumped deeper into the slope and drove her up towards the steep slender route.

She flashed past the pillars; the ground to her right fell away to an empty gaping ravine; its perilous deathly gravity drew the focus of her curious eyes; her stomach churned; her fraught dizzy mind reeled; She must not look down - she dare not; she forced her sprinting feet as far to the left of the path as they would go; she must focus and run - and not look back or to the side; a dark anxiety closed in over her; the cold air stung into her thick, gasping lungs; her feet clunked and jolted on the rocky path; above the roaring panic of her own heart, Ellis’s boots pounded not far behind. Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ FɪndNovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

A surge of terrified adrenaline pushed her onward; the chilling howl of the wolf pack loped ever closer; her haunted scrambling thoughts repulsed with images of a horrible mauling death.

She charged on; the cold stone pathway grew narrower and steeper, its cracked grey fissures searched upward, through the craggy rocks to her left.

Aldwyn began to slow; her own legs struggled to sustain the punishing pace; the hungry wolves snarled and yelped their terrible threats.

The thudding pulse of Ellis’s footsteps reverberated behind.

She must focus, she must run.

Beyond Aldwyn, the path seemed to constrict even more dramatically; several large rocks littered the route; a rockfall must have crashed down and carved off a further slice of the path’s slender width.

Aldwyn charged over the narrowed section; it cracked and crumbled beneath his heavy strides.

A savage canine death pursued her from behind; she pounded onwards; the weakened path splintered and fell away beneath her; her skin erupted in nauseous terror; the collapsing gravity tried to grab her; her stomach churned and convulsed; she screamed and made a desperate lunge forward; she scrabbled across the empty air and prayed that somehow her feet would land on solid ground; her breath locked tight, paralysed within her; an infinite time seemed never to start; only the lonely thump of her heart told her she was still alive.

She crashed forward into Aldwyn in a bruising tangled heap of limbs; the wind crushed out of her aching ribs in the sprawling mess.

Her horrified mind raced and panicked.

Was she still alive?

Or falling to her death?

Or already dead?

The cold hardness of stone digging into her elbow; the scratches and scrapes to her traumatised body; Aldwyn’s bony knee pressing into her back, shocked her into the realisation that she had made it to the solid rock beyond the dissolving pathway. She was still alive.

She jerked her head around.

The remnants of the mountain footpath thundered down and vanished into the distant valley below; a hungry gaping chasm yawned wide, just a hand-span away from her grateful shoulders, where the path had once been.

The pounding footsteps of Ellis thudded closer; he sprinted along the desperate mountainside; the ravenous wolves snapped and growled hard on his heels, their lolling tongues demanded his blood.

He would never make it!

The path had gone - the gap was too wide - it was madness to try.

He charged forward even faster; he lunged and leapt towards her; his legs kicked and swung through the empty air; his despairing arms flailed and grasped at the greedy abyss.

The terrified adrenaline thumped through her ears; she tried to move from the jumbled knot on the ground beyond the ruptured fissure.

Ellis was jumping to his death.

He would never make the broad distance.

He was certain to perish!

“Ellis!” she shouted. “No!”

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