9: The Iron Temple Read Free Page B

The wind felt brutally cold as it rushed over his bare cheeks.
    “You want me to try to dissipate the storm?” John asked. He’d managed it before, but that had been a blizzard of his own creation.
    “Yes. I told Lafi’shir that I thought you might have the endurance to do it. He’s waiting for you.” Saimura gestured up the trail to where Lafi’shir waited. John urged his tahldi ahead. The buck’s ears flicked up. It bounded forward, barely pulling to a halt as John reined it in beside Lafi’shir’s mount.
    At the head of the trail, the full force of the wind and snow drove down onto them. Lafi’shir’s eyes were barely visible between his ice-encrusted scarf and snow-caked hood. John quickly pulled his own scarf up. The humid scent of wool and his own breath wrapped around him.
    Lafi’shir lifted one gloved hand and signed his displeasure at the brutal cold. We don’t have time for this shit. Sai says you can break it. Do it.
    Yes, sir, John signed back.
    John closed his eyes and lifted his hands up so that the full force of the wind poured over his fingers. He felt the vast expanse of the storm rolling up and out for miles. Currents of ice crashed against the hard faces of mountains. Winds howled together, tearing moisture from clouds and hurling it aside.
    John reached up into the maelstrom. He concentrated on the hard, driving gale. Its force rushed over him and he pulled it deep into his body. He tasted ice in his mouth. His lungs ached with cold.
     The air stilled.
     Then another frigid wind hammered down on the mountain trail. John shuddered. It wouldn’t be enough to drink in single gusts of wind; at the same time he didn’t trust himself to draw down the entire storm. If he lost control of the storm, then they could all be buried under miles of snow.
    Another rush of wind buffeted John. He swatted it aside in annoyance. Suddenly the wind swept up and away. That worked well enough, John thought. He wondered if he could maintain it for any length of time.
    He concentrated. Carefully this time, he pushed the oncoming winds up, diverting them higher into the hills. They caught the falling snow and pulled it away.
    The howl of the wind silenced. The air stilled.
    “Well done, Jath’ibaye.” Lafi’shir’s voice carried plainly through the sudden quiet, but John heard him as if he were far away. Swirling ice and wild winds tumbled through John’s thoughts.
    Lafi’shir urged his tahldi ahead. Numbly, John emulated Lafi’shir. His body felt distant. The storm raged through his senses. It twisted and surged. John caught it, turned it aside, and then caught it again as it changed direction.
    A shadowy awareness of his body clung to him. He was riding, eyes staring almost blindly, right hand raised just above his chest. He felt breaks of sunlight touch his face. Reflexively, his eyes slitted against the sudden brilliance.
    He watched himself from high above as storm winds and sleet wrestled through his thoughts. He could see the other Fai’daum as well. Fenn had taken his tahldi’s reins, leading John’s mount alongside his own. They made quick progress over the mountain pass and then cut down through sheltering forest. He felt the terrain changing as they descended into a low valley. Rich soil spread beneath the powdery mounds of snow. The winds here were calm. Far in the distance John felt the tight clusters of tall buildings and stone walls. Closer, he noticed mounted men riding towards them.
    As John recoiled into his body, a wave of exhaustion rushed over him. He shook his arm out of its locked position and clenched his dry, stinging eyes shut.
    “Back with us, Jath’ibaye?” Lafi’shir asked.
    John wiped the tears from his eyes and straightened.
    “There are men a mile or so ahead of us,” he said. His voice sounded rough, as if he’d just woken up.
    “Rashan’im?” Lafi’shir asked.
    “No uniforms, but they’re armed with rifles.” John concentrated on the memory of his brief