Page 31 of The Dark Mirror

‘Let’s go, then.’ Maria took a sweater from her pack. ‘I refuse to come to blows with a dog.’

We retraced our steps to a fork in the path. The first time we had reached it, Harald had marched straight ahead. This time, he turned south, into a wild and sweeping valley, and took us along the remains of a trail, following a stream. It must have been an hour before we stopped beside a shallow pool, where Maria eased off her combat boots and washed blood from her heels.

‘Harald,’ Verca said, giving her a plaster, ‘how much farther to this cabin?’

‘And does it have food?’ Maria asked.

‘Tinned food. Nothing too appetising.’ Harald checked his chunky watch. ‘If we maintain this pace, we should reach the cabin by sunset. We’ll sleep there and take the bridge at dawn.’

I rubbed my eyes. ‘What bridge?’

‘It crosses an artificial lake. Using it will allow us to bypass the blockade, if that is what it was.’ He took a whey drink from his rucksack and tossed it to me. ‘For energy. The next part is the last and hardest. We need to go over that ridge to reach the cabin.’

He nodded to the peaks that towered right above us. Maria followed his line of sight. ‘I thought you said we wouldn’t be mountaineering?’ she said, horrified. ‘Look at my feet.’

‘Think of the view.’ Harald offered her a can. ‘Come along. No point in putting this off.’

Maria looked up at Verca. ‘Glad you came?’

‘Of course.’

The way up the ridge was narrow and steep. The four of us ascended without speaking, saving our breath. The only sound was the moan of the wind and the gravelly scuff of our shoes.

I had scaled cranes and skyscrapers, but mountains were a different matter, carved by wind and time. I had to stop every so often to let the ache burn through my body, like a flame along a match. At least I could breathe without coughing, which was more than I had been able to do in Paris.

The others attacked the ridge in their own ways. Verca assessed each slope carefully, while Maria moved in scrambling burstsand Harald went like well-oiled clockwork. Before long, thicker snow was crunching underfoot. I pushed through the discomfort.

All the while, I never looked up. Looking up would show me how much farther I had to climb. I couldn’t do that. I could only keep going.

I only realised Harald had stopped when I walked into him. ‘Sorry,’ I said, sleeving cold sweat from my brow.

‘No problem. Take a break,’ he said. ‘We’re at the top.’

At last, I let my gaze wander. All I could see were mountains, rising from a thin layer of cloud in all directions. Far below, a lake spread north, shocking blue against the snow. Maria appeared at last, doubled over.

‘Fucking mountains,’ she wheezed out. ‘Nothing but … jumped-up hills.’ She clutched her side. ‘Taking up space for eons, being outrageously hard to climb.’

I gave her a hand. ‘You all right there, champ?’

‘No, I’m dying. Let me expire.’

‘Didn’t you walk across Europe to get to London?’

‘When I was your age. Now I get backaches for no reason,’ she said, puffing. ‘Nothing like a surprise hike to show you how unfit you are. Why did I smoke all those years?’

‘Extreme stress?’

‘I could have taken up gardening.’

‘Come a little higher,’ Verca called, hair blowing in the wind. ‘It’s beautiful!’

‘You work indoors,’ Maria despaired. ‘How are you fitter than a career criminal, a commander of rebels?’

‘Radek makes sure we’re ready for anything. Did you never use the gym at the Boneyard?’

‘Absolutely not. I gave up on all exercise the moment I left Scion.’

She collapsed into the snow, grumbling in Bulgarian. I cracked open the shake and shielded my eyes from the sun, looking south. Tomorrow we would be in Italy.

---