9: The Iron Temple Read Free Page A

last of his stew quickly. When Saimura finally made his appearance, John excused himself, saying, “I want to get as many hours as I can with that soft bedding before I’m sleeping rough again.”
    “Enjoy it while you can,” Tai’yu commented. “Soon enough we’ll have rocks for pillows.” The other men wished him goodnight and John withdrew to the rented rooms.
    His dreams were a troubled wreck of confused guilt and longing for Ravishan. It hadn’t even been a month and yet he already felt Ravishan’s absence like a chronic ache.
    The next morning Fenn woke him before dawn. They ate leftover stew from the night before. The other men grumbled because the flavor had grown too strong after reheating. John enjoyed it, but lost most of his appetite when he saw how haggard Saimura looked even after a night’s sleep. Saimura offered John a faint smile. It wasn’t much of an overture of friendship, but it was more than John had expected.
    In the stable he, like the other Fai’daum, strapped his rifle to his saddle and hung his saddle blanket low to disguise the shape. Lafi’shir distributed their packs and warned them against breaking into their rations too soon.
    A delicate snow fell, filling their tracks as they rode north into the Stone Hills towards Sheb’yu’s farm.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

Chapter Eighty-Nine
     
    After six days of skirting bad weather and rockslides through the Stone Hills, they reached the last pass only to be engulfed in a brutal storm.
    A hard wind drove down from the steep cliff walls, spilling snow over John and the other Fai’daum fighters. John’s tahldi gave a low groan. The other tahldi echoed the quiet call.
    Riding beside John, Fenn leaned forward and stroked the jaw of his dappled tahldi. He whispered softly to the animal and it seemed to relax. John attempted to emulate Fenn’s actions, but his own big buck just pulled its lips back to show its yellow teeth to John. He stopped trying to soothe the animal.
    “He doesn’t like riding behind the others.” Fenn had to shout to be heard over the wind.
    “My tahldi?” John shouted back.
    Fenn nodded and then bowed his head against another blast of wind. A thick crust of frost clung to Fenn’s scarf and hood. He kept his gloved hands tucked into his coat.
    John felt crystals of ice condensing on his eyelashes and in his nose. He tugged his scarf up a little, like Fenn, and bowed his head down against the cutting wind.
    Snow and wind poured over them until all John saw were swirling white masses. He squinted ahead and picked out the gray shadows of Tai’yu and Pirr’tu riding ahead. Snow caked Pirr’tu’s beard. Tai’yu hunched his long body low, using his tahldi’s thick neck as a windbreak.
    Lafi’shir and Saimura rode farther ahead on the mountain trail. John lost sight of them in the storm. But then their forms seemed easier to pick out. He saw Lafi’shir raise his arm and signal a halt. John reined his tahldi back. The buck blew out an annoyed breath, but stopped.
    Saimura rode back down the trail towards them. He gave a greeting sign to Pirr’tu and Tai’yu but continued past them to John. Ice caked his eyebrows and the loose strands of his auburn hair. Clumps of frozen snow covered his coat and pants so completely that it almost looked like he was blanketed in matted wool. He jerked his scarf down and leaned in a little towards John.
    “The weather looks worse up ahead,” Saimura shouted over the howl of the wind.
    John nodded. He could feel the storm’s dark mass rolling and churning in the north. Ice and vapor writhed in wild, driving winds.
    “I’ve done all I could to protect us, but these natural storms are much more powerful than anything conjured,” Saimura yelled to John. “Still, if we’re going to reach Sheb’yu’s farm before spring, we need to get through this pass.”
    John pulled his own scarf down.