The wind above the cloud floor tasted of cold copper and scorched stone.
Nine thousand paces above the pine valleys of the central continent, Mount Taiyi thrust into the upper stratosphere like a jagged knife forged from black dark rock. No moss clung to the upper ridgeline. No alpine birds circled the crags. At this height, the moisture had long since frozen out of the thin, razor-sharp air. That left behind an arid void charged with invisible current. Every breath dried the back of Lin Tao’s throat until his lungs burned with the sensation of inhaling crushed quartz.
Lin Tao pulled the collar of his thick wool-lined mantle higher against the biting gale. His heavy iron-toed marching boots found purchase on a narrow ledge of fractured dark rock. His left hand pressed against the icy rock face to balance the heavy leather pack strapped to his shoulders.
Beside him, Tie Shan climbed with the steady, steady, unrushed pace of a mountain beast hauling stone.
The giant carried the bulk of their expeditionary gear. Across his broad back, lashed down with oiled hemp cords, rested thirty cold-drawn star-copper grounding shunts, each four feet in length and two inches thick, their fluted tips clinking softly with each step. In his right hand, Tie Shan held his twelve-pound iron pry-bar like a walking staff, planting its diamond-ground tip into fissures with a dull, ringing strike that echoed down the sheer deep pit.
