Douglas Niles - The Kinslayer Wars

For a moment, Sithas raised his eyes to the ledge across the valley. The ewes scampered upward, while the ram lingered behind, staring back at the elf who had claimed one of his flock. Sithas felt a momentary sense of gratitude to the creature. His heart filled with admiration as he saw it bound higher and higher up the sheer slope.

Finally he reached down and gutted the carcass of his kill. The climb back to Kith-Kanan would be a tough one, he knew, but suddenly his body thrummed with excitement and energy.

Behind him, atop the ridge, the ram cast one last glance downward and then disappeared.

Sithas cut a slice of meat from his kill on the valley floor, tearing bites from the raw meat, uncaring of the blood that dribbled across his chin. Smacking greedily, he wolfed down the morsel before he carried the rest of the carcass up the steep trail to their ledge. He found Kith-Kanan as still as when he had left him, but now, at least, they had food—they had hope!

The lack of fire created a drawback, but it didn’t prevent Sithas from devouring a large chunk of meat as soon as he got it back to the ledge. The blood, while it was still warm, he dribbled into his unconscious brother’s mouth, hoping that the warmth and nourishment might have a beneficial effect, however minimal.

Finally sated, Sithas settled back to rest. For the first time in days, he felt something other than bleak despair. He had stalked his game and slain it—something he had never done before, not without beaters and weapon-bearers and guides. Only his brother’s condition cast a pall over the situation. For two more days, Kith’s condition showed no signs of change. Gray clouds rolled in, and a dusting of snow fell around them. Sithas trickled more of the ewe’s blood into Kith’s mouth, hiked down for water several times a day, and offered prayers to Quenesti Pah.

Then, toward sunset of their seventh day on the ledge, Kith groaned and moved. His eyes fluttered open and he looked around in confusion.

“Kith! Wake up!” Sithas leaned over his twin, and slowly Kith-Kanan’s eyes met his own. At first they looked dull and lifeless, but even as Sithas watched they grew brighter, more alert.

“What—how did you—?”

Sithas felt weak with relief and helped his brother to sit up. “It’s OK, Kith. You’ll be all right!” He forced more confidence into his tone than he actually felt.

Kith’s eyes fell upon the carcass, which Sithas had perched near the precipice. “What’s that?”

“Mountain sheep!” Sithas grinned proudly. “I killed it a few days ago. Here, have some!”

“Raw?” Kith-Kanan raised his eyebrows but quickly saw that there was no alternative. He took a tender loin portion and tore off a piece of meat. It was no delicacy, but it was sustenance. As he chewed, he saw Sithas watching him like a master chef savoring the reaction to a new recipe.

“It’s good,” Kith-Kanan said, swallowing and tearing off another mouthful. Excitedly Sithas told him of stalking his prey—about his two wasted arrows and the lucky break that helped him make his kill.

Kith chuckled with a heartiness that belied his wounds and their predicament.

“Your leg,” Sithas said concernedly. “How does it feel today?” Kith groaned and shook his head. “Need a cleric to work on it. I doubt it’ll heal enough to carry me.”

Sithas sat back, suddenly too tired to go on. Alone, he might be able to walk out of these mountains, but he didn’t see any way that Kith-Kanan could even get down from this exposed, perilous ledge.

For a while, the brothers sat in silence, watching the sun set. The sky domed over them, pale blue to the east and overhead but fading to a rose hue that blended into a rich lavender along the western ridge. One by one stars winked into sight. Finally darkness crept across the sky, expanding from the east to overhead, then pursuing the last lingering strips of brightness into the west.

“Any sign of Arcuballis?” asked Kith hopefully. His brother shook his head sadly.

“What do we do now?” Sithas asked.

To his dismay, his brother shook his head in puzzlement. “I don’t know. I don’t think I can get down from here, and we can’t finish our quest on this ledge.”

“Quest?” Sithas had almost forgotten about the mission that had brought them to these mountains. “You’re not suggesting we still seek out the griffons, are you?”

Kith smiled, albeit wanly. “No, I don’t think we can do much searching. You, however, might have a chance.”

Now Sithas gaped at his twin. “And leave you here alone? Don’t even think about it!”

The wounded elf gestured to stem Sithas’s outburst. “We have to think about it.”

“You won’t have a chance up here! I won’t abandon you!” Kith-Kanan sighed. “Our chances aren’t that great any way you look at it. Getting out of these mountains on foot is out of the question until spring. And the months of deep winter are still before us. We can’t just sit here, waiting for my leg to heal.”

“But what kind of progress can I make on foot?” Sithas gestured to the valley walls surrounding them.

Kith-Kanan pointed to the northwest, toward the pass that had been their goal before the storm had driven them to this ledge. The gap between the two towering summits was protected by a steep slope, strewn with large boulders and patches of scree. Strangely, snow had not collected there.

“You could investigate the next valley,” the elf suggested. “Remember, we’ve explored much of the range already.”

“That’s precious little comfort,” Sithas replied. “We flew over the mountains before. I’m not even sure I could climb that pass, let alone explore beyond it.” Kith-Kanan studied the steep slope with a practiced eye. “Sure you could. Go up on the big rocks off to the side there. Stay away from those smooth patches. They look like easy going, but it’s sure to be loose scree. You’d probably slip back farther than you climbed with each step. But if you stay on the good footing, you could make it.”

The wounded elf turned his eyes upon his skeptical brother and continued.

“Even if you don’t find the griffons, perhaps you’ll locate a cave, or better yet some herdsman’s hut. Whatever lies over that ridge, it can’t be any more barren than this place.”

The Speaker of the Stars squatted back on his haunches, shaking his head in frustration. He had looked at the pass himself over the last few days and privately had decided that he would probably be able to climb it. But he had never considered the prospect of going without his brother. Finally he made a decision. “I’ll go—but just to have a look. If I don’t see anything, I’m coming straight back here.”

“Agreed.” Kith-Kanan nodded. “Now maybe you can hand me another strip of lamb—only this time, I’d like it cooked a little more on the rare side. That last piece was too well done for my taste.”

Laughing, Sithas used his dagger to carve another strip of raw mutton. He had found that by slicing it very thin he could make the meat more palatable—at least, more easily chewed. And though it was still cold, it tasted very, very good.

Kith-Kanan sat up, leaning against the back wall of the ledge, and watched Sithas gather his equipment. It was nearly dawn.

“Take some of my arrows,” he offered, but Sithas shook his head.

“I’ll leave them with you, just in case.”

“In case of what? In case that ram comes looking for revenge?” Suddenly uncomfortable, Sithas looked away. They both knew that if the hill giants returned, Kith-Kanan would be helpless to do more than shoot a few arrows before he was overcome.

“Kith . . .” He wanted to tell his brother that he wouldn’t leave him, that he would stay at his side until his wounds had healed.