Chapter 58: part II-2

Braeden said, “I should be fine to ride, so long as I’m careful with my arm.” “And if a demon attacks?” Sam asked sharply. A dagger appeared in Braeden’s left hand, twirling around his fingertips. “I have another arm.” Sam shook her head, but Tristan seemed pleased enough by his answer. “Let’s finish our meals and pack quickly, then,” he said. “I’m eager to put Pirama behind us. Too little sunlight.” Indeed, the inn was buried so deep into the mountains that it was next to impossible to tell day from night. When they finally departed The Brass Monkey a short while later, the sun was almost too bright. Sam felt raw and exposed beneath the sun’s penetrating rays. Tristan kicked his horse into a lope, and Sam and Braeden kept apace. Braeden guided his horse expertly with his thighs, his reins sitting unused in his lap. “Now he’s just showing off,” Sam whispered into her horse’s ear. The piebald whinnied in agreement. Tristan pulled his mare to a stop at the bottom of the mountain pass where they had fought alongside the Uriel. He dismounted and retrieved a shortsword and scabbard from his pack. He handed it to Sam. “Just in case,” he said. “I’m not sure what sort of reception we’ll get in Luca.” Sam looked up at the peaked massifs in the distance, their tops dusted with snow. “Luca is through here?” she asked. “Aye,” Tristan said. “Where Pirama was built into the mountains, Luca was built atop them. Only the most stalwart of men travel to and from the city.” “Why did the Uriel set up their base there, if traveling is so difficult?” Sam asked. Braeden brought his horse beside hers. “It sends a message.” “It sounds like cutting off the nose to spite the face to me,” Sam said, wrinkling her own nose. Those snowy peaks looked cold. Tristan shrugged. “Who knows why the Uriel do anything? Perhaps a trip to Luca will enlighten us.” “You decided to meet with Sander, then?” asked Sam. “Still to be determined,” Tristan replied. “I sent off a letter to the High Commander last night. We’ll see what he says.” “How will he reach us in Luca?” Tristan frowned at her, as though it were obvious. “He’s the High Commander.” As Tristan had warned, the road to Luca was not an easy one. The mountain was impossibly steep in parts, and their horses tired quickly, so they had to break at regular intervals to allow the animals to recover. The terrain varied greatly, too--a meadow of brilliantly colored wildflowers would be followed by a field of snow. The snow fields were dangerous, according to Tristan, because rivers flowed beneath them, and it was hard to tell whether the snow had solidified enough to support their weight. He made them cross by foot, afraid that the combined weight of horse and man would send them plunging into the icy waters below. Sam skidded and slid her way through the snow, falling more times than she cared to admit. The undulating crests and dips of the mountain path made it difficult to gauge their progress. They’d climb uphill for what seemed like forever, only to descend the same distance after they reached the summit. The trail was narrow and slippery--from melted snow or rain, Sam didn’t know--and her heart stopped every time the horses’ hooves slipped in the loose gravel. But it was beautiful in the mountains, too. There were delicate flowers so blue they seemed artificial, and the uninterrupted vistas of lofty, gray bluffs against sky must have been painted by the gods themselves. At one point, they paused just to watch an ice avalanche roll down the mountain slope. The avalanche was more than a mile away, but it was close enough that they could see and hear the ice separate from the glacier and fall in crystallized shards to the ground below. It was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. When the sky turned orange as the sun ducked below the mountaintops, Sam resigned herself to a cold night beneath the stars. Tristan, however, had other ideas. “Just a little bit further,” he urged, stroking his horse’s mane. He led them off trail through untamed brush and uneven earth, until at last an opening appeared in the narrowly packed trees. A small wood hut stood in the clearing, unsophisticated but well-kept. “We’ll stay here for the night,” Tristan said, leaping off his horse. Braeden and Sam followed Tristan into the small hut. It was surprisingly spacious and warm, though Sam could hear the wind beating against the roof. “How did you know about this place?” she asked. Tristan spread out a blanket onto the musty floor and lay on top of it. “I stayed here once before, many years ago. I wasn’t sure it would still be here.” Sam pulled out another blanket and claimed the space at the back wall, as far from Tristan and Braeden as possible. “What were you doing in the Elurra mountains?” Tristan took a long time to respond. “Running away,” he said, a muscle in his jaw ticking. From what? was on the tip of her tongue to ask, but she sensed that Tristan didn’t want to be pushed, not about this. So she asked instead, “You’re from the West, aren’t you? Did you grow up near Luca?” His jaw tightened. “Nay, further west. In Finchold.” That took Sam by surprise. Finchold was almost as uninhabitable as the Diamond Coast. “That’s, uh…” she struggled to find adequate words. “How long did you live there?” “Fifteen years,” Tristan gritted out, his face a dark cloud. She opened her mouth to ask another question, but Braeden caught her eyes and shook his head slightly. “Sorry I asked,” she muttered. Tristan sighed. “Don’t apologize. I’m sorry I snapped. I don’t like talking about Finchold, that’s all. We’ll pass through it eventually, anyway. We’ll have to in order to get to the Diamond Coast.” Sam bit back her curiosity. Tristan was the one of them without secrets, the unflappable one, the one without a chink in his armor. What kind of sordid past could he possibly want to hide? She recalled the priest of Cissonius’ words: For all your bluster, Paladin, you suffer still. She had half-ignored the priest at the time, but now she wondered if he had truly known something. The conversation turned to more innocuous topics for the remainder of the evening, and they went to bed as soon as the sky faded to black. “We’ll be in Luca tomorrow,” Tristan told them on a yawn. “Sleep well. You're going to need it.”