Chapter 104 The Choice

Chapter 104 The Choice
Elias

The storm had taken part of the mountain with it.
By sunrise, half the path around the western ridge had collapsed into the gorge, leaving a shelf of mud and exposed stone where the trail should have been. One of the pines that had gone with it was lodged farther down the slope. The other had disappeared entirely.
“Wonderful.”
Lyanna came out from beneath the overhang, her cloak fastened and one hand beneath her stomach. She stopped several paces from the broken edge and surveyed the damage.
Her hands moved. Can the horse cross?
“No.”
Us?
I considered the remaining ledge. “I could. You probably could.”
Her brows rose.
“No,” I amended. “We are not doing that.”
She looked into the gorge and, for once, did not argue.
I returned to the shelter and pulled the map from my pack. Lyanna followed, lowering herself awkwardly toward the flat stone beside me before I caught her elbow.
“Do you want help?”
She paused, then nodded.
Once she was seated, I spread the map between us.
“We're here. The original route would have kept us along this ridge for another day before descending southeast.”
My finger followed the faded line before moving east.
“We can go back down and reach a village by midday. The lower road from there is easier, but it is also the most likely to have patrols.”
How likely?
“Enough that I don't want to use it.”
I pointed west.
“We could climb higher and cross the ridge here. The horse should manage most of it, although there are two stretches where you'd have to walk.”
Lyanna's hand moved briefly toward her lower back.
I noticed but said nothing.
“The last option takes us north around the ridge. Easier ground, fewer exposed sections, but it adds at least two days after last night's rain.”
Her expression tightened.
None of the choices were good.
Usually, that would have been the end of the discussion. I knew these mountains better than she did, understood how patrols moved and which roads soldiers preferred. I would have chosen the route and told her where we were going.
Instead, I asked, “How much climbing can you manage?”
She looked at me, then at the map.
How much do we need?
“That isn't what I asked.”
Her mouth tightened.
“Yesterday,” I reminded her.
Understanding crossed her face.
The agreement had lasted less than a day before becoming inconvenient.
Lyanna considered the question properly.
Not another full day like yesterday. I can walk some and ride most.
“How long could you manage on foot?”
She thought before holding up a finger.
“An hour?”
She nodded, then shook her head when I asked whether she meant continuously.
That made the higher route possible, but not sensible.
Lyanna touched the northern line on the map.
Why not this?
“Time. We don't know how quickly the search is moving.”
The notices at yesterday's crossroads had already been farther south than I expected. Someone was distributing descriptions of us efficiently enough that I no longer trusted the ordinary pace of military orders.
Lyanna tapped the northern route again.
Safer?
“From patrols, probably. It also keeps us closer to farms once we reach the far valley. The ridge saves time, but if something happens to you up there, getting help would be difficult.”
She pointed toward the lower road.
Not that one.
“Agreed.”
Her finger moved between the remaining routes before settling on the northern one. Then she pointed at her stomach and, after a moment, at my shoulder.
“My shoulder is manageable.”
Her stare sharpened.
“Yes, fine. It still hurts.”
Apparently, our honesty agreement was going to be equally irritating for me.
She tapped the northern route.
Two days is better than one mistake.
I studied the map.
Alone, I would have chosen the ridge. Every extra day on the road gave the search more time to close around us, and difficult terrain had never bothered me enough to outweigh that risk.
I was not alone.
“All right. North.”
Lyanna blinked.
“Do not look so surprised.”
Her mouth curved.
I had started folding the map when movement far below caught my attention.
I stopped.
Through a break in the trees, the valley road was visible in narrow stretches. A line of riders had appeared along it.
I counted eight before they reached the crossroads we had abandoned the previous evening.
Drakovian cloaks.
Lyanna followed my attention. I raised a hand to keep her back from the edge, then pointed toward the road.
Two riders dismounted at the crossroads. One removed the notice from the post while another stopped a wagon approaching from the south.
Lyanna came beside me and caught my sleeve.
“They're searching the road.”
The patrol divided. Two riders headed east while another continued south. The others remained at the crossroads with the wagon.
They were not guarding the route. They were questioning travellers.
“This search has spread farther than I expected.”
Lyanna's fingers moved quickly.
Did they find us?
“No. If they knew where we'd gone, they wouldn't be splitting up.”
I watched the riders disappear beneath the trees.
“They're covering possibilities. We are still one of them.”
Her grip on my sleeve eased.
The patrol changed the calculation. Two extra days remained dangerous, but the northern route would keep us away from the roads those men were now searching.
Lyanna tapped my arm.
Still north?
“Yes.”
She nodded and turned toward our packs.
“Wait.”
I held out the map.
She looked at it, then at me.
“Take it.”
Her brows drew together.
“You don't know these roads, and I'm not asking you to navigate them.”
Her expression became dry.
“I know.”
Her voice was quiet and rough, but the offence came through perfectly well.
I almost smiled.
“I mean that if we get separated, I don't want the route existing only in my head.”
That removed the humour from her face.
I opened the map again and pointed to our position.
“We'll follow this slope north until we meet the stream. The stream eventually crosses the old mill road here. If we lose each other, follow the water north. Do not go east, even if the ground looks easier.”
Lyanna leaned over the parchment.
“Show me.”
She found our position first, then traced the stream northward until her finger reached the mill road.
I folded the map and placed it in her hand.
For most of the journey, I had carried it because there had been no reason not to. I knew the country, chose the roads and watched for soldiers while Lyanna concentrated on surviving whatever route I put in front of her.
That arrangement no longer made sense.
“Keep it dry.”
She tucked the map safely inside her cloak, then signed, And you?
“I know the route.”
Her stare became pointed.
“I generally know the route.”
It worsened.
“Last night involved a storm.”
Her mouth curved.
I picked up my pack before she could become more insufferable.
“Get on the horse.”
She signed something at my back.
I decided I had no need to know what it meant.
We left the broken trail behind and began north.
Lyanna had not suddenly learned the mountains overnight, and I had not forgotten how to keep us alive. I still knew the roads better, just as she knew her own limits better than I ever could.
The difference was that neither of us was carrying information the other needed.
Far below, Drakovian soldiers were closing roads and questioning travellers.
They did not know where we were yet.
North gave us a chance to keep it that way.