The Blackest Heart by Brian Lee Durfee

Author:Brian Lee Durfee
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Saga Press

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The surface of the glacier was melty in the sun, creating a dangerous surface. Hauling Dokie over and around all the obstacles and puddles in their path took the effort and muscle of all. But they made good headway to the chasm they’d crossed days ago, the two rangy dun-colored mules waiting in the distance, both still staked to the ice.

The gaping chasm appeared to have widened by about five feet since they had last crossed it. The gorge now seemed to emit a low roar of raging subterranean waters from deep within, the raucous din much louder than before. With only one rope left, their crossing would be more demanding this time, if not impossible, with Dokie strapped to a litter. There would be no rope bridge this time. Each person would have to swing across the lone rope they had and brace for impact against the far ice wall, then climb the rope to safety—or be pulled to safety by those who had crossed before.

Val-Draekin went through each pack, setting aside the two pickaxes they needed, then tossed what other gear they could across the chasm, where it landed near the stake. Culpa tied their remaining rope around one of Stefan’s arrows.

Stefan nocked the arrow to his bow, aimed, and fired. It was a perfect shot. The arrow lodged deep into a crack in the ice just a foot below the opposite rim. Seita tied the other end of the rope around her own waist, grabbed the two pickaxes from the ice, stepped carefully to the slippery ledge, and jumped. She swung down gently into the chasm and landed feetfirst against the opposite wall twenty-five feet below, her two pickaxes immediately striking into the ice. The Vallè woman dangled a moment, got her footing against the ice wall, and slowly began to climb, using the two picks. Once she reached the top, she wrapped the rope around the stake, then went back, leaned over the ledge, and plucked Stefan’s arrow free. She swiftly untied herself and threw the other end of the rope along with the two pickaxes back over the chasm.

Roguemoore wrapped the rope around his girth multiple times. Pickaxes in hand, the dwarf took one step and leaped ungracefully into the chasm, heavy armored body smacking into the opposite wall of the crevasse with a stout crash. His horned helm rattled off his head at the impact and plummeted away into the vast nothing. The dwarf cursed, oriented himself to the wall quickly, and began his slow climb. Seita pulled on the rope from above.

Stefan thought he heard the distant howling of oghuls. Not sure whether his ears were playing tricks on him, he turned, eyes roaming the icy expanse they had just traveled. The howling grew louder, more distinct and real. Culpa had also turned to look just as a pack of several dozen oghuls crested a rise in the glacier about five hundred paces to the north and east.

They were loutish beasts, snarling and

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