“We can’t wait out here for long.” Simon felt his cheeks numbing against the cold. It was difficult to breathe at this altitude. “But wandering off into the snow might not be wise.”
He went to the stone column where the portal rune was etched. He noticed a whitish coloring below the rune and pulled on the tangling dead roots. They fell away easily as if they had been torn free previously and simply replaced. An arrow had been chipped into the surface of the column along with another simplistic carving of the word El. It appeared to have been done recently because it was not weathered to the color of the rest of the stone, and Simon’s glove brought away a fine trace of dust when he touched it. The arrow pointed up the barely passable trail. “Seems to be a message here.”
Kate joined him to study the mark. Her wild auburn hair tried to escape from a fur hat that fit snug over her ears. “El. It means god in Hebrew.”
“And?” Simon blinked stinging windblown ice from his eyes.
“And Ishwar is a modern version of the Sanskrit word for god. This was carved here by Ishwar, sending us up that trail.”
“That’s a reach.” Nick snorted derisively. “You want to walk into that stark hell based on a few chips on a stone?”
Kate cast him a scathing stare. “Perhaps you prefer to sit here pointlessly, then go home?”
“Easy.” Simon’s voice was harsher than he intended.
“How do we know this Ishwar is still alive?” Nick buttoned his thin coat as high as he could, not quite as daunted by the cold as the others. “How do we know he even exists?”
“We don’t.” Simon wore thick leggings, probably sealskin, stuffed into fur-topped boots. Drawing his stick sword from the back of his rucksack, he shifted the bag, which carried simple food and medical material. “We’re going to move.”
He started up the trail. Kate followed in heavy pants and boots, showing no discomfort. She wore her bandolier over her coat.
The path was rarely used. Large fallen boulders threatened to block the way in spots, and scrub grass broke through the coating of dry snow that continued to swirl. The wind gusted so violently at times it stopped them in their tracks for fear of being blown off course. They climbed, legs growing weary, breath rasping. Hogarth took the lead because he alone had experience in this sort of endeavor, having traveled distant continents with Sir Roland for many years. He forged ahead with his compass, making note of their movements and keeping them from straying off the path into a crevasse even when their trail vanished under heavy snow. Simon welcomed Hogarth’s reconnoitering expertise because, despite their magical key, if they were unable to find their way back to the rune where they had arrived, there might be no escape short of walking off the mountain.
Simon could dress the part, but he knew that he was no explorer and was out of his element here. He could lead them through Paris because at least in a city there were streets and proper destinations, and ready food and water. In general, his most audacious expedition usually consisted of venturing from Soho to Kensington without a specific café destination in mind. The rest of his team was no more at home in the Himalayas. Kate was the daughter of a famous explorer, but she had never accompanied her father on his great journeys. And while Simon didn’t know everything about Nick’s past, nothing in the man’s tavern-loving nature hinted at being a mountaineer.
Simon caught a slight glint in the light. The white snow and pale stone ahead of them hid filaments hanging in midair like a spider’s web. He yelled, “Trap!”
Hogarth looked down suddenly at the feel of something on his legs. A gentle click came from beneath his feet. Kate grabbed the back of his coat and yanked with all of her might. He fell backward with a shout as three small circular blades curved up out of the snow and slashed across the path.
Simon rushed forward, helping Hogarth to his feet. The manservant gaped at the bright blades as they slowly spun to a stop on thin flexible stalks. The top one would have taken his head, the middle his waist, and the last his knees.
Kate cautiously slid her foot under the snow and touched the edge of a metallic plate. Now that she was aware of its existence, she saw short translucent posts only a few inches high on either side. The triggering thread had been strung between them. The trio of saws had been encased somehow in the metal plate and sprang into deadly action when the thread was broken. She grimaced. It was a hunter’s trap of some sort. It was beyond just being an efficient killing machine; it was gruesome. Any one blade would have been enough to kill. Three was just cruel.
“Someone doesn’t want us around.” Nick observed dryly.
Hogarth brushed snow from his clothes. “Thank you, Miss Kate.”
Kate smiled at him. “I’ll not be the one to bring back such sad news to Imogen and Charlotte. I didn’t see the blasted thing, even so close.” She glanced back at Simon.