As we approached the lower-rim checkpoint, the refugees began to grow restless. They were dry, worn, and weary, exhausted from a month of grueling travel. Blue Canyon offered much in the way of water, but I'd been forced to walk long distances before and knew how hard it could be on the body and feet for regular, unenhanced mortals. Just how many times had I collapsed and had to let Soltair carry me in the early days of our adventures?
A minute later the light vanished plunging us in shadows. The temperature dropped several degrees, and I shivered, drawing my cloak tight about me. The cliffs towered high in the air, blotting out the sun, split by crags and jagged blue peaks. The road was wide enough for two wagons side by side, but it seemed no thicker than a hair working its way up the cliffs. Several small forts jutted out high above at each switchback, built into the cliffs themselves.
