Page 1 of All the Wandering Light

Part I

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One

I WAS LOST.

The wind lashed my face with snow lifted from the mountainside. Drawing breath was difficult, seeing my way near impossible. I forced myself to put one foot in front of the other, to replace my hood when the gusts blew it back, though I noticed little difference in warmth. I noticed little of anything. Even the wind’s claws against my face, carrying ice so sharp my fingers came away spotted with red, had faded from my awareness.

Another step. Another.

Behind me, Azar-at was silent. At times, the wind and blown snow seemed to dissolve the fire demon’s tenuous, wolflike form, and all I could see were eyes the color of fired coals gleaming through the swirl of white. Even when I didn’t look, though, I knew it was there. Azar-at’s presence was a weight that dragged behind me like a heavy cloak.

Biter croaked in my ear. Lusha’s raven familiar was nestled in the crook of my neck, the weather making flight impossible. Clouds swirled around us, spilling snowflakes the size of coins. Despair washed over me. When I had left Raksha’s summit, the wind had been rising, and I was too exhausted to make it down the rock wall I had scaled before. It had seemed possible to descend the precipitous slopes to the east, then traverse back to the plateau where I had left Tem, Lusha, and Mara two days ago.

Possible. Now that I was actually descending, I was discovering how little resemblance “possible” bore to “advisable.”

Narrowing my eyes against the howling wind, I drove my ax into the mountain again, focusing on what mattered most: Lusha and Tem.

Their names, repeated in my mind, were the fire that kept me going, though every muscle screamed at me to stop, to give in to the hungry pull of the earth below. Were my sister and my best friend all right?

I pictured Tem, pale and haggard. He had been badly injured in the avalanche that almost swept him and Mara off the mountain. Lusha could barely walk after breaking her ankle on the Ngadi face, a treacherous wall of ice. Neither of them would last long in this environment. If I didn’t make it back—

I shook myself. I couldn’t dwell on ifs. I had to focus on finding Lusha and Tem, and after that, figuring out how to save Azmiri from the witches’ inevitable attack on the Empire. As the closest settlement to the witches’ lands, Azmiri was vulnerable.

But what could I do? I hadn’t been able to stop River from lifting the binding spell at the summit of Raksha, and restoring the witches’ powers—how was I going to protect my village from an army of creatures who could take any form they chose, and control the darkness itself? I couldn’t begin to answer that, but it didn’t matter. First, I would get us off the mountain. Then I would come up with a plan.

“It’s all right,” I said. My throat was raw from the cold, and I barely recognized my own voice. “We just have to keep going.” I wasn’t sure if was talking to Biter or myself.

The raven croaked again, a low sound like the purr of a cat. He was exhausted too—there was no shelter on this side of the mountain, no ledges to rest upon. Twilight was falling. I had been descending since morning.

Occasionally, the wind dropped and the snow cleared, revealing a glimpse of the vastness before me. Each time, I choked back a sob. It wasn’t because I was thousands of feet in the sky, clinging to a slope so steep that one wrong step would send me tumbling into the clouds. It was because the view never changed. I could have been standing where I was an hour ago. How was I going to find my way back to the others?

Which brought me, again, to Azar-at.

I glanced over my shoulder, locating the glowing eyes in a heartbeat. I knew the fire demon was still there. I looked because part of me hoped it wasn’t.

When I had made my contract with Azar-at, I had been desperate. My body was bruised and battered from the ascent to the summit, and the thin air made it difficult to think straight. Azar-at’s power seemed like the only way I could get myself off Raksha, let alone help anyone else. Yet I had discovered that, impossibly, I had scraps of strength left. I hadn’t used the fire demon’s magic yet—or paid its inevitable price.

Biter let out a cry. He launched himself into the air, leaving behind a small patch of warmth on my neck.

“Biter!” I tried to grab at his tail feathers. The raven flew a few yards down the mountain, settling into a hollow I could barely see.

After an interminable time, I reached the narrow shelter. It was only a few feet high, curved like a halved egg. It looked as if a chunk of the mountain had loosened and fallen away—recently, if the thin layer of snow was any indication. I was too exhausted to consider the danger—I tucked myself into that tiny pocket of space within the vastness of snow and sky, and something inside me wilted. I removed my pack and dropped my head onto my knees.

Azar-at crouched above me, the strange furnace of its body singeing the snow. It dripped down the rock, freezing in icicles like jagged teeth.

Why do you struggle, Kamzin? its voice murmured in my thoughts. Friends need you. They wait for you, worrying. You should not let friends worry.

“I’ll find them.” Not for the first time, I wished I could shield my mind from the creature’s sinuous voice.

Fast is the wind over the mountain, Azar-at said. Faster still could you reach friends if you use your magic.

“It isn’t my magic,” I snapped. “It’s yours. I will borrow it when I have no other choice—and only then. Don’t you remember what I said?”

I remember.

“Then don’t ask me again.” I couldn’t use Azar-at’s magic without giving the fire demon part of my soul. That was the only currency it would accept.