Chapter 59: The Edge of the World
The air in the lower courtyard tasted of frost and fear. Dawn was still an hour away, a faint promise of grey light behind the eastern peaks. Four figures stood silhouetted against the stone archway that led out of Silverfang Keep, their breaths pluming in the icy air.
Elias Hale adjusted the strap of his pack, his movements economical and sure. He wore specialized gear—white and grey furs over thermal-lined armor, his face half-hidden by a fur-lined hood. At his hip hung a compact pulse pistol, and across his back was slung a rifle built for extreme conditions.
Beside him stood the two warriors Valen had chosen. Rykar was a mountain of a man, his face a roadmap of old scars, his eyes the pale, piercing blue of a winter sky. He carried a massive ice axe and moved with a quiet, ground-eating grace that spoke of a life spent navigating impossible terrain.
