The cliffs proved worse than any of them had expected.
The rock face was damp from the morning mist, slick beneath fingers and boots, every handhold demanding careful, deliberate testing before trusting it with weight.
Valen led the climb, his elven agility making the ascent look almost effortless, though even he paused more than once, testing crumbling stone before committing to it.
Doran struggled more. His arm, still healing from the ravine fall, screamed with every pull upward, and twice he nearly lost his grip entirely, saved only by Braka's steadying hand catching his wrist at the last moment.
"You could have mentioned the cliffs were this bad," Braka grunted, hauling Doran back onto a narrow ledge.
"I've never actually climbed them," Doran admitted, breathing hard. "I only know they're here because I've seen them from the valley floor. Guards don't usually need to."
They pressed on, the sun climbing higher, sweat mixing with the damp chill clinging to the rock.
