Page 54 of All the Wandering Light

“Is this world worth saving? Perhaps for you. It wasn’t for us.”

He stood there in that familiar chuba, gazing at me with those familiar, mismatched eyes, and all I wanted to do was run at him, pound my fists against him. I wanted to lift my ax from where it lay in the snow and drive it into his chest. I withdrew the star from my pocket.

River’s eyes narrowed. He seemed to guess what I was thinking. If I threw the star off the mountain, could he find it? His powers hadn’t helped him find the star before. There was no longer any possibility that we could escape with it—the least I could do was keep it out of the witches’ hands.

My hand, suddenly, was hot. The star was burning; I felt it through the wool of my glove. What was happening? Startled, I stumbled back—onto the talon of ice at the edge of the spur.

Which promptly gave way.

Shouts followed me through the air. Acting on pure instinct, I lifted my ax and drove it into the mountain. It arrested my descent, and I swung my body onto a narrow ledge. It held for a moment, then crumbled beneath my feet. Gasping, I slid down the mountain, which curved outward slightly, before landing in a heap on an outcropping several yards below. I was on my feet in an instant.

Through my fear and fury rose a sudden, desperate hope. The clouds swirled around me in thick sheets. Could I somehow conceal myself and the star from River? Could I lure him on a wild-goose chase, then make my way back to Lusha and Tem, and escape?

It seemed impossible. And yet I had to try.

I leaped again. The rock wasn’t quite sheer, and I slid at a terrifying speed before catching hold of a crevice in the mountainside. My wrist wrenched painfully, but I didn’t pause. From there, I lowered myself rapidly to a spur of rock we had passed hours earlier—it had taken that long to climb the area I had just descended. The mountainside fell into shadowed mist beyond the spur, tinged with silver and gold from the setting sun. It was a dreamlike sight that took my breath away. Yet I knew the mist hid certain death—I was thousands of feet above the ground. Beneath the spur there was only air.

I hurried along the rock to the cave I knew was tucked within a fold in the mountainside. The clouds swirled around me, cold and damp. Ice crystals formed around my eyes and nose, but I didn’t care—the clouds were my cloak.

I reached the cave, which was difficult to spot at first, for it was as if a light shone inside it, erasing every crack and crevice. No, not a light.

The cave had no shadows.

I stumbled back. Around me, the shadows were being pulled back like a retreating tide. Clouds swirled over a landscape that was harsh and jagged, almost painful to look upon. I turned, drawing the dagger from my chuba. I couldn’t see River, but I could see where the shadows were gathering—at the edge of the cliff, where it seemed a figure stood shrouded in darkness.

Anger beat in my veins. River had found me. River had access to power I couldn’t imagine. It was unfair, and I hated it.

I threw the dagger.

The shadows gave a shudder. I had no time to see if my desperate shot had hit the mark, however—I turned and ran, making for a rubbly ledge of ice. The ground shook strangely beneath my pounding boots. The rubble seemed to dissolve, and I realized that beneath it was nothing but air.

“Kamzin!” River shouted. His voice was distant. I was falling.

Chunks of snow and rock struck my face as I tumbled with them through the air. My ax was gone, spinning from my hand and into the shadows. The shadows—

They swirled around me, tugging at my cloak. One alighted on my shoulder, small as a bird. It clung to me, digging itself into my chuba. Other shadows grasped at my hem and sleeves. Slowly, impossibly, I felt my descent slow. I was no longer tumbling head over heels. I was on my back, just below the cloud cover, hovering over a snowy valley. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

The tiny shadows began to lift me through the air, rippling like wings, so quickly that I flailed and thrashed instinctively. I rose back into the cloud, gliding toward the spur where I had fallen.

When I reached the edge of the rock, River was there, grabbing me by the back of my chuba and hauling me onto solid ground. The little shadows dissolved. I sagged against River, and for a moment, I felt his heart thudding against mine. Then I shoved him back and slid away from him.

River leaned against the rock, his hand pressed against his shoulder. Blood seeped through his fingers. We gazed at each other across a small distance. For a moment, the only sound was the moan of the wind across the upper slopes of the mountain.

“So,” I said, aiming for a dismissive tone, which was difficult with my heart throbbing in my ears, “it doesn’t take an obsidian blade to hurt you.”

He regarded me warily, as if he suspected that at any moment I would toss myself over the cliff again. “It won’t kill me, even if you drove it through my heart. But yes, being stabbed does hurt, thank you.”

I leaned my head against the frigid rock. “You don’t need to look at me like that. I’m not going to run again.” My voice was bitter. “It’s clear that there isn’t any point.”

“I don’t know about that.” He seemed amused. “You can move faster than any human I’ve met. If it wasn’t for the snow, I don’t think I would have found you.”

“The snow?”

River pointed to the spur stretched out behind us, where, unmistakably, there was a trail of footprints.

I cursed inwardly. Lusha would never have made such a mistake. Anger rose again as I looked at him. His dark hair fell haphazardly across his forehead, speckled with snow, and for some reason that angered me too.

“It would be easier for you if I did run again,” I said. “Wouldn’t you rather collect the star from my broken body, if I were to fall?”