Duncan continued marching forward, right for the sheet of rock, the soldier groaning over his shoulder. As he reached the ice, he motioned to his men, who stepped forward.

“Tie him to my back,” Duncan said. “Make the ropes tight. It’s a long climb, and I don’t plan on either of us dying.”

Duncan knew this would make a hard climb even harder, yet he also knew he would find a way. He had been through worse in his life, and he would rather die himself than leave one of his men behind.

Duncan put on his snow shoes, feeling the spikes beneath his feet, grabbed his icepicks, threw back his arm and struck the ice wall. The pick settled into it nicely and he pulled himself up and jammed his foot into the ice below, which also settled in. He took another step, then slammed the ice pick in, and up he went, one step at a time, surprised at the effort it took as he climbed and praying that his tools held. He was, he realized, putting his very life into the fate of their craftsmanship.

All around him his men did the same, and the air was suddenly filled with the sound of a thousand small picks chipping away at ice, rising up even over the howling of the wind. Like an army of mountain goats, they slowly ascended the ice face together. Each step was hard work for Duncan, especially with the wounded soldier on his back, but he never considered turning back. Giving up was not an option.

Duncan climbed and climbed, arms shaking from the effort, the wind and snow occasionally blinding him. As he was breathing harder and harder, trying not to look up and see how much was left to go, he was relieved to see, after about fifty feet, a plateau up ahead.

Duncan pulled himself up on it and momentarily collapsed, breathing hard, resting his shaking arms and shoulders.

“Sir, leave me here,” the soldier implored, groaning on his back. “It’s too much for you.”

But Duncan merely shook his head and got back to his knees, joined by others all around him as they reached the plateau. He looked up and was grateful to see the mountain face level off a bit, not such a steep climb. Duncan dug his pick and shoes in again and continued on, taking it one step at a time, trying not to think of the journey ahead.

Duncan wondered how the men of Kos ever came down off this mountain. He had fought beside them in battle more than once, yet he had never seen them up here, in their element, in these mountains. They were truly a different breed of man, he realized, living amidst such heights, winds and snow.