Killian would be inside now. Evrin resumed his climb; he couldn't afford any more pauses. He came to the fork and took the right-hand path, bearing upwards. The pilgrims who took these same steps would be flushed with excitement, about to reach their destination — the place they had journeyed across the world and faced the hardship of travel to see. The Pinnacle.

Evrin increased his speed, but the next stage was a set of steps without break and soon his breath ran ragged, the muscles in his legs burning. He kept his head down, his hands on his knees, taking one step after another, counting them. It frightened him, how hard this path was compared to days gone by.

He heard a rumble from within the belly of the mountain and smiled to himself at the sound of the explosion; Killian was doing well. Evrin had been searching for Killian for an eternity, and while he knew the questions Killian was burning to have answered, first he must —

Some loose gravel rolled under Evrin's foot, and the wind twisted the robe around his ankles. With a cry the old man's muscles gave out and he tripped, falling to the ground, smashing his knees on the hard stone. When Evrin was able to think he realised he was on the ground, sprawled across the steps. Evrin clutched at the wall but pain shot through his ankle, sending stars bursting inside his head. He looked down at his sandaled foot. The ankle was twisted, and already his foot was beginning to swell, the flesh white and puffy.

Evrin probed it with his hands, and the pain made him gasp. He shook his head ruefully.

"In the name of all that's holy," Evrin said. He almost smiled, realising how fitting the words were, given where he was, but the smile came out as a grimace.

The sharp pain settled to a regular throb, timed to the beating of his heart. Evrin needed to get to the Pinnacle before the next explosion. It wouldn't take Killian long to find the extraction system, and then the refinery. He wondered what surprises the Primate had in store for the young man, whether there were templars defending the relics, or something even worse. Nothing the lad couldn't handle, he hoped.

Evrin winced as he tried to stand. Once, he would have been able to heal himself, and the pain would have vanished, the bone knitting together until it was whole and undamaged. It was an ability he no longer had.

He finally used a mental trick to ignore the pain in his ankle and continue up the endless steps. He had been counting, hadn't he?

"What's the point," he muttered. Yet for some reason he again found himself counting from one.

"One."

Groan. Step. Drag. Pause. Deep breath.

"Two."