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Sarnax was so cold.
Every inch of his skin flared with unbearable pain. Each step he took threatened to overwhelm him, balance a near impossible task when all he could focus on was inhaling and exhaling the icy air that billowed around him, erupting in puffs of steam from his open, panting mouth. He’d never felt a cold like this.
Still, he gritted his teeth and tried not to sway. Shepherd needed Gherix’s warmth more than he— the tiefling’s lips were a frightening deep blue, frost gathering on his eyelashes, his fingertips, the ends of the long black hair that poked out from under the cloak Kana had draped over his shaking, broad-shouldered frame. He winced with every step, frozen fingers threatening to drop the swinging lantern that served as the last barrier between Shepherd and the icy throes of unconsciousness— or worse.
Still, Sarnax pushed on. He kept putting one foot in front of the other, drawing the long sleeves of his robes over his hands and tucking them under his arms as he crossed them over his chest. He wrapped his tail around himself in an attempt to keep it warm, his more acutely affected cold blood making him listless and slow as his trembling, aching body threatened to succumb to the cold, his own willpower be damned.
He perked up as a voice suddenly pierced the cold and the howling wind— the voice of Shepherd, swearing furiously as his foot caught painfully on something underneath the snow they were all struggling through, and Clayton yelped with surprise as the tiefling stumbled forward, falling directly into him. Shepherd pulled the lantern to his chest, protecting it from the tumble he and the professor took, and Sarnax gritted his teeth as he came to a halt, the cold biting somehow ever deeper into his skin once he was no longer moving.
“Shepherd, P-Professor, are you al-alright?” he asked through chattering teeth, feeling sluggish and exhausted as the wind whipped around him, making the hem of his robes (which was soaked from dragging through the snow) flap wildly around his ankles. He could no longer tell the difference between the normal cold of the air and the feeling of the icy, wet fabric pressing against his legs.
“M’fine,” Shepherd said weakly, but he didn’t move, except to pull the lantern closer to his heaving chest and squeeze his eyes shut. Sarnax could imagine that his companion was in immense pain and trying not to show it, as the stubborn tiefling was wont to do. “S-s… sorry, Professor.”
“Quite alright, m-my good man,” Clayton responded slowly, brushing snow off of himself with a violently shaking hand as he disentangled his long legs from Shepherd’s shivering, weakened body and accepted Kana’s hand, which was extended to help him up. “Thank you.”
Kana nodded, seemingly too overcome by the cold to speak. She knelt next to Shepherd, who was struggling to sit up, a choked-off whimper slipping through his clenched teeth as he winced with the pain of moving. Sarnax crouched as well, taking one of the tiefling’s arms and wrapping it around his own shoulders, gripping his ice-cold hand as tightly as he could bear despite the agony of touching anything with the pins and needles that rippled underneath his skin. Kana did the same with his other arm, and Clayton and Victoria held onto Shepherd as well to steady him from the front and back as Kana murmured, “On three. One, two, three.”
As one, they stood, bringing the lethargic, groaning Shepherd with them. It seemed to be all he could do to pick up the lantern again and hold onto it, and he didn’t react (Sarnax wondered if he could even feel it) as the lizardfolk carefully wrapped his tail around Shepherd’s leg to steady the both of them.
Sarnax made eye contact with Kana over Shepherd’s drooping head and raised his eyebrows, glancing down at the half-frozen tiefling with just his eyes and then looking back at her. She nodded, a silent go-ahead for the both of them to keep supporting Shepherd, who kept stumbling and likely wouldn’t make it much further on his own.
“I can see the bridge now,” murmured Sarnax into the ear of his worryingly quiet friend, his entire body numb and his only motivation to keep the rest of his party alive.
For all the reaction Shepherd gave, Sarnax might not have spoken at all; he was silent, not even groaning or whimpering with pain anymore. His feet dragged through the snow, leaving nearly solid lines as tracks instead of the distinct footprints of everyone else. The hand holding the lantern, which was draped over Sarnax’s left shoulder, seized up, and with a weak moan of protest and hurt from Shepherd, the lantern slipped from his grasp.
Despite his sluggishness, Sarnax was quick to act, and managed to catch the ring on one finger, hissing lowly with barely concealed agony as the warm metal set his half-frozen nerves aflame with all the brash suddenness of a charging boar. He gritted his teeth so hard it hurt, but held on, managing it through the power of faith and faith alone. He lifted his hand as much as he could manage and held the glowing lantern to Shepherd’s chest, desperate to keep him warm; he wouldn’t make it long without it, Sarnax knew.
“Gherix, give me the strength to survive,” he whispered, unable to even hear himself over the incessant roar of the wind.
The expedition moved at a snail’s pace, Clayton and Victoria arm in arm as they struggled through the snow, Sarnax and Kana encumbered by the dead weight of the uncharacteristically silent tiefling between them, his head lolling side to side with every step his friends took. His legs were no longer moving as if he was trying to walk, and his chest rose and fell slowly and minimally, barely enough to be noticed. Sarnax might have thought he was dead if his weak, shallow breathing wasn’t right in his ear, barely audible above the wind but still reassuringly there.
Ahead of them, Victoria lost her footing, and the professor hissed painfully through his teeth as he took her weight, staggering a little before managing to steady the both of them, turning his head in towards her.
“Just a little farther, Victoria,” Sarnax heard him saying, his grip on her tightening even as he winced, his dark eyes betraying just how agonizing it must have been to hold on. His cheeks and nose were flushed an unusual rosy pink, but his lips were pale blue, and what little of his auburn hair Sarnax could see was tipped with frost.
“Professor,” he called desperately, a raspy cough tearing from him with the effort it took his burning throat and lungs to speak, “Shepherd is g-g-getting worse by the m-moment. We… we must stop.”
“No! We’re almost th-there,” Clayton responded, the authority in his voice weak and flimsy. “We m-m-must make it to the b-bridge.” He stumbled and let out a pained grunt, holding tightly to Victoria as they pressed on and on and on, neverending through the cold and the exhaustion. “If w-we stop now, we m-m-may never g-get up again.”
The grim truth of Clayton’s words fully set in and thus became the thing spurring Sarnax forward, continuing to put one foot in front of the other in front of the other. He squeezed his eyes shut and sent up another desperate prayer, leaning heavily on the strength of Gherix and hoping against hope that it would lead them through this misery. It was so cold.
Step by trembling step, the expedition made their way to the cliffside where an old, weathered bridge extended over a canyon. The noise was as loud as it had ever been, the howling wind joined by the roar of the raging river a mere hundred feet below, and in minutes they were all soaked by the mist that rose up from the rushing water. Sarnax could barely hear the professor as he shouted, “Let us stop here for now. Take a rest, everyone.”
Gratefully, Sarnax sank to the ground, taking Shepherd with him as Kana helped get him to the ground and arrange his long limbs to make him as comfortable as he could be in his lethargic, frozen state before getting back to her feet. She opened her mouth and said something, but Sarnax couldn’t hear it— he just leaned against Shepherd as the shivering tiefling pressed into him and watched her walk away.
After they had settled in, Sarnax sitting crosslegged and holding the lantern of Gherix between himself and Shepherd, his companion ceased to move once more, letting his freezing body lean into the shivering lizardfolk.
Kana returned moments later, shaking her head. She said something to Clayton, who sighed. Her hands were empty, and Sarnax got the feeling she had been looking for something, but hadn’t found it.
He beckoned the rest of the party closer, and gently picked up his lantern, the warmth still agony on his frostbitten fingertips, but as they approached and his desperation grew, he dealt with the pain, gripping the handle with all the strength he had left. He thought about Shepherd, limp and unconscious on his shoulder, and determination filled him. He would not let his only friend, Gherix’s shepherd, die here on this cursed mountain.
“Gherix,” he cried, feeling renewed by his newfound willpower, “give me the power to save our lives!”
He focused as intently as he could, expending all the energy he had to create flame, and for one blissful moment, all became clear.
Sarnax sighed and opened up his eyes, looking up to the sky and opening his palm. From it erupted a mote of bright golden fire, but it didn’t burn; it felt like safety and home and love. Sarnax smiled a tiny, relieved smile, watching as the flame grew, and amongst the gold was flickers of red, and it transformed into the shape of a dragon, a small wyrmling made of flame with ruby eyes that focused on him and him alone. He looked up into their blazing depths and felt the fire lord smiling upon him.
The little dragon took flight, and from its mouth burst forth an incredible fire. It circled the expedition, and everywhere its breath touched, pillars of flame erupted from the ground, a wondrous beauty about the red and gold that sprang to life around them in a ring. Sarnax looked up at the wyrmling as it flapped its wings once, then twice, nodded to him, and dissipated into the misty air.
Shepherd gave a weak groan— the first noise he’d made in nearly an hour— and moments later, his pitch dark eyes fluttered open, shocking white pupils flitting about in confusion before focusing on the lizardfolk’s face.
“Sarnax,” he mumbled, dazed, but at last awake and okay. Sarnax finally felt like he could breathe again. “‘S warm.”
Almost without thinking, Sarnax placed his lantern between the two of them once more and wrapped his arms tightly around Shepherd, who leaned willingly into him. The flames glowed brightly, too bright to look at yet still beautiful.
“It is,” he said, the corners of his mouth quirking up in the barest hint of a smile. “Yes, Shepherd. It certainly is.”