Zaliyah clutched the velvet armrest so hard his knuckles turned the color of the snow outside. His heart hammered against his ribs-not with the fear of the storm, but with the terror that he was already too late.
At the foot of the Great Ridge, the carriage came to a final halt. The lead guard pulled open the door, his face nearly hidden behind the frost.
"Your Highness, the beast cannot go further," the guard shouted over the howling gale. "The path narrows into the 'Devil's Spine.' It's a crooked pathway. If we go on, it must be on foot."
Zaliyah didn't hesitate. He stepped out, and the wind nearly knocked him flat. The path ahead was a nightmare of rocks and slippery translucent ice. It was a small narrow path jutting out from the mountainside, barely wide enough for two men to walk abreast.
"Keep close!" the guards shouted, forming a protective ring around him.
