Jean Rabe - The Silver Stair

He crept forward, his bare fingers painfully cold in the snow, feeling for the edge of the cliff.

That's it! his father encouraged. Off to your right. Just a little farther! That's it…

The elf lay on his stomach, the spine of the book beneath his shirt pressing uncomfortably into his chest. He found the ledge and pulled himself to it, until his head and shoulders hung over the edge and were buffeted all around by the blast of cold and snow. He was certain he heard the girl crying now, soft and desperate for her mother. He called out to her and relied on his hearing and his father's directions to find her.

She was on a shelf several feet below the ledge, and Gair leaned over as far as he safely could, until only his hips and legs were anchoring him against the edge. "Child!" he hollered as loud as his voice could muster, sputtering when the wind whipped snow inside his mouth. His tongue felt thick and stiff from the cold. "Child!" he repeated. The crying stopped, and he felt something brush his fingertips, achingly sore now from exposure. "Grab my hand! I'll pull you up!"

He felt the faint brush of her fingers, then heard wails of "I can't… reach it." The elf turned his thoughts inward to his father, whose presence hovered in the elf's mind.

She will not climb up the rocks. She is too frightened. You must leave her, Son. Together we will search for others whom we can save. Her death will be swift, and we will welcome her into our realm. The cold is claiming her even now.

Gair hesitated and opened his eyes slightly. He knew the cliffs were steep, with few handholds in most places, and he couldn't see anything to grab on to. He could see only the never-ending sheet of bone-chilling white. It would be risky.

Too risky, my son. Don't take the chance.

"My friend is always telling me I don't take enough chances," the elf replied as he maneuvered around until he lay parallel to the cliff edge and carefully swung himself over the side. The rocks bit into his fingers, slicing into his skin as the elf struggled to hang on. His feet flailed about along the cliff face until he found a lip of rock so narrow it accommodated only the toes of his boots. He found another handhold and worked himself farther down. The rocks were coated with frost and terribly slippery, but somehow he managed to hold on until he had worked himself down to a shelf. The crying was louder here.

Slowly he inched his way toward where his fretting father said the child cowered. A heartbeat later, a small pair of arms wrapped around his leg and held tight. The crying eased a little.

Gair's fingers walked down the rock, over trails of ice, steadying himself until he could kneel without slipping. He drew the girl into his arms in the same instant he reached inside himself and searched for his mystical strength. He felt his heart, heard it beating even as he heard his father's worried words, sent the thrumming outward to wash over the child and to calm her as he had calmed the boars.

She was trembling from fear and from the cold, and Gair shuddered when he felt around her to make sure she hadn't broken any limbs. He discovered she had on only heavy socks and a nightshirt. He fumbled at the buttons of his own coat and wrapped it around her like a blanket.

"You'll be all right," he said firmly, his mouth against her ear. "I'll get you out of here. What's your name?"

A whisper.

"Amanda? That's a pretty name. I'll get you out of here safely, Amanda."

He closed his eyes again to shut out the white. With one arm, Gair cradled her to his chest, and with the other, he began searching for handholds in the rock. There were small cracks here and there that his aching fingers found, but they were too narrow to get a good grip. He barely felt his fingers as he continued to grope about.

"Damn!" he swore softly. "Father!"

The elder Graymist's words swirled in Gair's head, encouraging him to keep searching. The spirit said he perceived the cliff, but seemed unable to judge a precise path up and could not make out enough details to help with handholds. The elf's sisters joined in the spirit chorus, murmuring that Gair must not give up and that it was not yet time for his essence to join theirs in death.

"Help! Goldmoon!" He hollered loudly, realizing instantly that there was no way the healer or anyone else could hear him. Gair had no idea just how long he'd been gone from the camp. The intense cold and driving snow made it seem like hours. He held his eyes clamped shut, since they were useless to him in the whiteout. "Please," he whimpered to the departed gods as he continued to feel about.

When his sense of touch had all but abandoned him, he found a horizontal crevice just above his head large enough to squeeze most of his hand inside. He did so and pulled himself up slowly, scrambling to find footing against the cliff face, his boots scraping against rock and ice and finding nothing. He lowered himself back down, still clutching the child tightly. "It will be all right, Amanda," he said into the folds of his coat. There was no answer, and he pressed his face into the gap of his coat and opened his eyes. The child looked at him mutely, her lips a ghastly bluish tint and trembling. "My magic can't warm you," he said. "Perhaps Goldmoon can help, but I've got to get you out of here first."

He gritted his teeth and focused all of his strength into his right arm, flexing it and pulling himself up until his chin struck the edge of the crevice and his wrist. He hung there, trying to find something to wedge his boots into, but the leather was too thick and only scraped against the rocks and ice. "Nothing," he cursed as he dropped back down and stared at the cliff. Through the whiteness of the blizzard, he saw only the shadow of the rocky cliff face. He closed his eyes again.

Don't do this! his father warned. It is not yet your time! Leave her here! Use both your hands to save yourself! Don't do this!

"I've no intention of dying," Gair told him, as he struggled out of his boots and gasped when the frigid air hit his stocking feet. He tucked the boot tops under his belt at his back. "But I am getting both the child and myself out of here." He clamped his teeth together and again searched for the crevice, wedged his hand into it, and his fingers gripped the rocks. His muscles bunching, he slowly pulled himself and the child up. He flailed his feet around, searching for even the slightest of outcroppings, something he could sense with his toes. The rocks cut through his stockings and slashed at the flesh beneath, the pain keeping him alert and making him more determined.

He continued to wriggle about until his fingers felt numb and he feared he would lose his handhold. At last he found something to wedge his toes into. Plastering himself against the rock face and whispering words of comfort to the child, he cautiously released her, holding her body between his chest and the cliff. He searched with both hands now, finally finding another handhold. He held her again with one arm and pulled himself higher.

At last at the top, he lay down, gasping for breath. Even through the coat, he felt her shiver against his chest, and he struggled to pull his boots back on, all the while cradling her. Finished, Gair slammed his eyes shut again, blotting out the hateful white, and forcing himself to his feet.

"Father!" he yelled, though he knew the spirit could hear his thoughts. "Guide us back! Hurry!"

The elf stumbled along, falling more than once to his knees when he tripped over objects that had been scattered about by the wind. Each time it was harder to get to his feet, which had lost nearly all sensation and continued to move through the snow only because of Gair's force of will and his father's urging.

The wind continued to whistle unmercifully and tauntingly, stinging his face beyond feeling. Where, Father? His questions were inside his head now, his lips so horribly chapped he didn't want to move them. "Where?"