The wind in Throat Pass shrieked like iron on iron. The gap between the limestone walls was less than twenty feet wide. Fallen boulders, loose shale, and black ice covered the floor. The cliffs rose three hundred feet into the clouds. Even in daylight the pass looked like it was already dusk.
The four Cloud Mist disciples went thirty paces into the cleft. Yan stopped them short of the place Ling had pointed out. He could hardly stand even with the survey pole. Blood had soaked his boot, and he was sweating through the cold.
“Here,” he called. “Set the Mountain-Clearing Thunder Charms in the western cliff. We’ll wake them once we’re out the north end.”
Sun and Zhao put down their satchels. They took out the tools and the Grade One charms. Their hands jerked with cold and fatigue as they worked. The sect’s magic could bring down twenty rods of cliff if the two charms answered each other through the stone.
Ling Feiyu stood thirty paces behind them on a boulder six feet off the floor. He faced south, toward the ruins. His white robes billowed, the silk collar’s ward keeping the hem clean. From there he could watch for Azure Cloud’s scout eagles. He could also step clear if the cliff came down before Sun and Zhao had finished.
