Page 159 of The King's Man
But it was too late to worry about that as I caught an updraft and was thrust high into the grey clouds that boiled through the traverse that was our passageway to Ebonreach.
It was time.
God, carry us both to safety.
*****
~ DIADRE ~
We weren’t even to the traverse before I realized I’d been wrong to assume Jann’s warnings about the weather at the peaks were exaggerated. Far from it. I feared that not only had I not taken him seriously enough, but he may have underestimated his own weariness in the wake of our travel.
I’d been impressed that he’d waited a full three days at that camp. Now I wondered if it should have been a week.
Half an hour after he told me we weren’t even into the worst of it yet—and the first creep of fear curled in my chest—we hit a sudden updraft. My stomach dropped to my toes as we shot higher and somehow, impossibly, the air grew colder… a split second before the wind hit us broadside and the world tilted.
What followed was terrifying. And I could do nothingbut be careful not to distract Jann. And pray that his wings would hold up.
The wind felt like icy knives cutting through the furs and clothing, finding every tiny whisper of a gap between my skin and the clothing that offered scraps of warmth. As if frozen claws dragged on my skin. And once we were among the peaks, I wasblinded, the wind so cold and brutal it seemed my eyes would freeze in my head, so I was forced to keep them closed.
How did Jann see where he was going?
The bare glimpses I managed were stunning, but only caught when my eyes flew open because the wind caught us and seemed to flip us over, my body reflexively convulsing, convinced I was about to freefall to my death.
It was a rugged, brutal chaos of blue, gray, and white peaks rising towards the sky like pocked teeth threatening to close on us.
And if these mountains were the maw of a creature, the wind was its roar. Not only frigidly cold, but thundering. Tearing at skin and ears alike.
And Jann had said this would take hours?
I had no idea how much time had passed the first time the wind caught us when I felt Jann grunt in his chest against my back and he wobbled, struggling to hold our course.
I almost reached out, almost asked him if there was a way to help, but I knew… I knew he fought a battle. And this wasn’t one I could aid him in.
The last thing he needed right now was questions from a fearful mind. I had to let him find his way and pray his body would hold up. Because he’d been abundantly clear: To land on the Raven Peaks and cease moving was a death sentence.
I now understood why.
The minutes seemed to crawl by. At some point I couldn’t feel my fingers anymore. I wondered how Jann’s extremities were doing, and gave a mildly hysterical laugh when I caught myself thanking God my ass and the furs that wrapped me were pressed hard against his groin, praying it protected hismanhood.
But there was no more laughter as Jann fought his way through those harrowing winds.
It seemed we’d been in there for days when a rush of sleet pelted the few spots of skin on my face that were open to the air. I flinched and hissed, and felt Jann do the same. Suddenly, my heart was in my throat.
The wind, already howling, turned rabid.
Jann shouted in pain and threw his arms up to protect his face and head as hail was thrown at us by those incredible winds. I ducked into the furs, burying my face and baring the top of my head. Those tiny projectiles needled until it seemed that claws punctured my scalp through my hair and I wondered if the wetness I felt was melted sleet, or my own blood.
Above me, Jann jerked and twitched, weaving back and forth so that we tilted drunkenly, first one way, then the other.
‘Hold on, Dee! We’re almost through the worst. There’s only another mile. But pray… pray my feathers don’t freeze.’
I blinked from within the furs, my breath growing short and shallow.
The sleet. The hail. That moisture could be deadly if it coated his feathers and they froze, no longer able to ride the flows of air and…shit.
‘I’m here. Keep going. You’re incredible. I’m here,’I replied, unable to think of anything else that didn’t sound like I was lying.
I prayed in earnest. I felt every tiny lift on the updraft, every flinch from a cross-wind. And every plunge of descent.
