Free The Crimson Crown by Cinda Williams Chima

they might encounter had been laid closer to their destination.
    Eventually, they climbed into the clouds. Han drew the mist around himself like a cloak, a supplement to the glamours they’d constructed that morning.
    On the other peaks surrounding the Vale, small crofts, cabins, and clan lodges peppered the land and clung to the high benches wherever the land was level enough to build. Herds of sheep grazed on all but the most vertical, inhospitable slopes.
    There were few signs of human life on the wizard stronghold of Gray Lady. Han and Dancer crossed game trails and little-used horse tracks filling in with summer growth. Farther from the road, they wound through stands of stunted trees, the branches twisted by prevailing winds.
    Han couldn’t shake the knowledge that he was deep in Bayar territory. That’s what you wanted , he said to himself. Toe-to-toe and blade-to-blade.
    He and Dancer had to leave their horses behind when the way became too steep for the animals to navigate. They staked them in a tiny upland meadow, within reach of grass and water, setting charms against four-legged predators.
    Slinging his panniers over his shoulders, Han led the way upward, sometimes walking upright, sometimes scrambling on hands and knees, his saddlebags slamming against his hips.
    He used his sleeve to blot mist and sweat from his face. His hair was plastered down on his forehead. I’ll be in fine shape at the council meeting, he thought. “We must be getting close,” he said aloud, pausing on a small ledge until Dancer caught up.
    Rummaging in his pannier, Han surfaced his notes from his session with Crow. Putting one hand on his amulet, extending the other in a wide sweep, he spoke the first charm, one intended to reveal magical barriers and power channels.
    Tendrils of magic flicked out over the mountainside, and it lit up like solstice fireworks. Webs of spellwork covered the ground, layer on layer of brilliance. It was elegant, beautiful, fragile as spun glass, reflecting a fierce and desperate genius that crackled with power. The texture of it was familiar to him from his sessions with Crow. Exquisitely efficient.
    Han and Dancer looked at each other, eyes wide.
    Han set his feet, closed his hand on his amulet again, and spoke the first of a series of unraveling charms. Gently, he teased away the magic layer by layer, sweat beading on his forehead, exercising a level of patience he didn’t know he had. Crow had drilled into him the consequences of careless mistakes.
    Gradually, a new landscape emerged that had not been visible before—a fissure between two huge slabs of granite; a rocky pathway leading upward.
    When all magic had been scraped away, Han let go of his amulet and stood breathing hard, as if he’d climbed the mountain at a dead run.
    “I think it’s clear now,” he said, when his breathlessness eased. “But my amulet is half drained. Anyone with less power on board would be done for the day.”
    “I wonder if the barriers are designed to do that,” Dancer said. “To wear down any wizard who tries to enter on his own.”
    Cautiously, they began to climb again, Han in the lead, his notes tucked inside his coat. Periodically, they came across new magical traps, cleverly hidden around turns, designed to send them over cliffs or into dead ends or sliding into ravines. Han disabled each one, acutely conscious of his dwindling magic supply. If he’d had any doubts about Crow’s identity, they’d been scoured away. If he’d had any lingering question that his ancestor was a magical genius, it was answered.
    Dancer looked back the way they had come. “Did you notice?” he said, pointing. “The barriers go back up after we pass.”
    And it was true. Their back trail was now obscured by a veil of magical threads. Which meant that they’d need power to return the way they’d come.
    Han gritted his teeth. There was nothing to do but press on.
    The entrance to the cave would have been easy to miss if