Myth and Storm, page 2
“I’m not saying we should abandon Mara.” Elver clutched his axe to his chest. “I just think we need help. Digging until we die won’t save her. But maybe someone in Whitend can, or a sorcerer, or the Lord Map Maker.”
“I can make the run for Whitend,” Kegan said. “It’ll be more than a week there, and at least the same coming back. But if she’s still―”
Tham couldn’t hear the rest of Kegan’s words over the screaming in his mind.
The sound wasn’t Tham’s own voice, but hers.
Afraid. In pain. Abandoned.
She knows I’d never leave her.
He swung the axe at the ice around the stone, carving toward the side of the great rock.
I’m coming. I promise I’ll find you.
“Tham,” Kegan said.
He sliced the axe into the ice, breaking a chunk free.
“Tham!” Kegan shouted.
Tham pressed his palm to the place where the rock met the ice, letting his blood leak onto the stone.
“I won’t ask you to abandon her,” Kegan said. “You could no more do that than slice out your own heart and hope to live. We have supplies. I’ll stay here with you and keep digging if that’s what you want. But if bashing through the ice isn’t helping, then maybe we should try something else. Maybe going to Whitend is what saves her.”
The screaming in Tham’s mind faded, stealing her voice from him.
I will find you. I swear it.
“If you decide attacking the mountain isn’t going to bring Mara back, then tell me, and I’ll race for Whitend. And if I didn’t consider you a friend, I wouldn’t offer it, but”―Kegan let out a rough sigh―“if I need to head for the Sorcerers Tower, I’ll do that, too. I’ll appeal to the Guilds Council if that’s what it takes. I don’t fancy the pain it would cause, but if we have to bring the might of the chivving Guilds up here to get her out of the ice, then I say we let the white mountains burn.”
Tham pressed his forehead to the stone. The scent of wet sediment filled his nose, as though the mountain was trying to convince him a grave was the only place that could offer peace.
“I’ll clear up this debris,” Kegan said. “We’ve got to melt more for water anyway.”
Tham dug his nails into the rock, fighting against the words he didn’t dare say.
“Cut around the stone then?” Elver said.
Tham pushed away from the rock, leaving a bloody handprint behind. He wrapped the ruined bandages around his hands, protecting the axe from the worst of his wounds.
“Did she know?” Elver stepped up to Tham’s right, studying the ice they needed to carve through. A moment passed before Elver spoke again. “What I mean is, did Mara know you loved her?”
She knows.
I’m coming. I swear I will find you.
He swung the axe, cracking through the ice that had stolen his heart.
Twice more, he lost minutes to sleep as they chipped their way around the stone.
It wasn’t a boulder that had sunken into the ice as Tham had dared to hope, but a wall that had been carved from the mountain’s stone.
They’d met the edge of it first, like finding the corner of a building. Tham’s rage drowned out his desperation as the human hand in the wall’s making became more apparent with every passing hour.
The stone hadn’t been placed in their path by chance or fate. Men had carved the swirls that looped along the wall. Men had taken their time creating the pictures of the bears that crept across the bottom of the image.
Men had stolen his heart and dragged her through the ice.
Tham would find those men, rip their limbs from their bodies, and let their spilling blood melt the ice as he forged a path to reach her.
The promise of slaughtering his enemies kept him chipping away as they uncovered a door made completely of stone.
The carving was perfect, with lines where the door should have swung open, but the stone offered no handle or keyhole. No way to shove the door aside.
He didn’t know how long he stood staring at the door, waiting for an ice monster to come out and swallow him. Hoping a beast would devour him if it meant being able to see her again.
“Something like this doesn’t just exist,” Kegan said. “Magic forged this passage. The people in Whitend must know who made this and how long ago. If they can tell us how to get through…”
Tham fell to his knees. His axe tumbled from his hands.
“You’ve got to rest, Tham,” Elver said. “We’ll get you some food and water. We’ll take a moment. Clear our heads and figure out a way through this.”
Tham leaned forward, bracing his bloody hands on the door. Tears streamed down his cheeks, falling onto the ice beneath him.
“I swear I will find you.” He pressed his forehead to the door. “I will burn the mountains to find you. I will tear the gods from the stars if they defy me. I will find you.”
He shut his eyes, forcing his pain behind the silence that protected him. He picked up his axe and stood.
“I’ll get the sled ready,” Kegan said. “See when the light might allow me to leave.”
Tham ran the axe’s blade along the edge of the stone door.
“That ice axe won’t cut through stone,” Elver said. “Kegan can bring us back proper tools. A miner’s pick, maybe.”
Tham thrust the edge of his blade into the crack.
“Tham, you’ve got to―”
“I will not leave!” Tham screamed at the stone, pushing against the axe with every ounce of strength he had left. “I will find you.”
A crack shuddered deep within the stone.
He pushed harder, bellowing the fury too strong for him to contain.
Blue light sliced through the stone at the edge of the door.
Elver ran forward, ramming his shoulder against the stone, adding his weight.
“Chivving cact of a demon’s spawn.” Kegan planted both hands on the door and screamed through his teeth as he pushed.
The sliver of light widened, growing as the stone door ground slowly open.
As the gap grew, Tham pulled his axe from the crack and rammed his shoulder against the door with the others.
I swear I will find you.
The door scraped open another inch.
Ignoring the pain, Tham crushed himself through the narrow gap.
“Tham!” Kegan shouted.
Bright blue light bathed the tiny space in front of him, the glow seeming to come from everywhere at once. Tham stepped forward, his axe hanging forgotten at his side.
A wall of perfectly smooth ice blocked his path. The ice shone with a brilliance that could only be born of magic.
“Tham.”
A hand gripped his arm but didn’t hold him tight enough to keep the glow from drawing him closer.
The light in the ice glittered and shifted, promising something. Maybe danger, maybe beauty. But whatever happened to him through the ice didn’t matter. This was the path she’d followed. He knew it. His bones screamed it.
“Don’t!”
Tham leaned against the wall of ice. But the wall did not block him.
The ice pulled him in, carrying him into the blue as though he were sinking into the sea.
Blinding lights flared before him as a weight pressed against his chest, forcing all the air from his body.
I will find you.
3
Mara
The blue light would have driven Mara mad if her fear hadn’t been strong enough to burn away every other thought.
The ice walls of her prison shone a constant blue. The light never changed. Never offered any hint of what time of day it might be or how many days had passed. If she hadn’t been able to cover her head with the thick furs they’d laid out on the bed, she might not have been able to sleep. And she did have to sleep.
It was only then―when she slipped away into awful nightmares―that they brought her food and water. Each time she drifted off, she’d wake up to find a fresh tray in the corner.
She never managed to see the person who brought the food, no matter how hard she tried.
She’d pretended to sleep, but somehow, they seemed to know she was still awake. Lying still and listening for footsteps wasn’t enough to trick her captors into showing themselves. She’d fallen asleep in the corner where the fresh tray usually appeared. She’d woken up to find her food waiting for her on the bed.
She’d screamed. She’d battered the walls with the metal tray. She’d clawed at the ice until her fingers bled.
She only knew they’d noticed her poor attempts at escape because bandages and ointment had appeared with her next ration of food.
They’d taken her pack, her knife, her criolas, everything but the clothes she wore. They’d locked her in a room that might as well have been made of solid stone.
There is a way out of this, Mara Landil. You are going to find a way out of this.
She pulled her chilled hands from beneath the fur blanket and dragged them down her face.
“You’re going to get back to him, Mara,” she whispered to the empty room. “He’d never stop looking for you. You don’t get to sit around feeling sorry for yourself while Tham is fighting to reach you.”
She swallowed the flutter of panic in her chest, tamping down the frightened voice in her mind that wondered how long she’d been trapped in the ice and what the people who had taken her might have done to Tham.
“There is a way out of this.” She climbed off the bed.
The bed itself was made of a metal frame, strung across with rope and topped by a feather mattress―all things that seemed to imply whoever was holding her wanted her to be comfortable. Or planned on keeping her for a long time.
The bottoms of the metal legs had been sunken down into the ice, and the frame of the bed built so she couldn’t rip it apart.
Still, Mara knelt beside the bed, staring at the metal trapped in the ice, searching for a bit of inspiration.
“What I wouldn’t trade for a flint.”
If she could set the bed on fire, perhaps the room might melt. If she were choking on smoke, maybe someone would try and save her. They had given her bandages for her hands. That had to mean they wanted her healthy.
Mara ran her thumbs over the scabbed tips of her fingers, trying to remember what had happened between when she’d been pulled through the ice and when she’d woken up in her cell.
They’d made her comfortable. Kept her alive.
The beginnings of a terrible and desperate plan formed in Mara’s mind. Tham would be furious with her for even considering it. But waiting patiently for her captors to free her wouldn’t get her any closer to reaching him.
She blew on her hands, coaxing enough blood into her fingers for them to be able to move nimbly.
The knots in the ropes that supported the feather mattress had been tightened by time and use.
Mara hummed to herself as she picked at the knots. The tune was one she’d heard from Tham. A song whose words were lost to him, stolen by the time he’d spent trapped on a ship, bound to a cruel captain. He’d survived a childhood of pain and fear.
She was his home. She was his safety. She would not let the ones who’d captured her steal the little happiness Tham had found.
“You’re stronger than they know, Mara Landil,” she whispered.
Her scabs had cracked back open by the time she managed to untie the first knot in the rope. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to be grateful for the cold air sweeping into her lungs, before crawling to the far side of the bed where the other end of the rope attached to the iron frame.
She’d barely examined the knot before a rumble in the corner froze her in place.
Biting back her smile, Mara turned toward the wall, ready for her captors to finally show themselves, whatever punishment their wrath might bring.
But the wall didn’t open to allow her jailors to enter. The room had begun to shrink, the far wall drifting toward her, stealing the little space her cell granted.
Mara leapt to her feet, lunging toward the wall, pushing against it with all her might. Her boots slid out from under her, offering no traction against the smooth ice of the floor.
Clambering up onto the bed, she braced her toes against the metal frame and leaned forward, meeting the still-moving ice. She shoved against the wall, screaming her rage and fear though there was no one but her to hear the echo of her voice.
“Why are you doing this?”
The ice devoured everything up to the edge of the bed before stopping.
Mara froze for a heartbeat, then another. But nothing happened. Her cell stayed the size of her bed.
Panic joined the anger pulsing through Mara’s veins.
“Let me out.” Mara banged her fists against the ice. “Let me out! At least be brave enough to show your slitching faces! Why are you keeping me in here? What do you want from me?”
Mara’s breath shook in her chest as she waited for a reply that didn’t come.
“You chivving cowards! Locking me in here, hiding while you keep me trapped. I will find a way out of this, and you―”
The ice shifted again, closing in around her.
“No!” Mara planted her hands against the walls that pressed in on either side of the bed. “Stop it.” She pushed with all her strength, screaming with fury as the open space shrank enough to pin her arms against her chest.
“I’m sorry!” Mara shouted. “Make it stop. I’m sorry.”
The walls stopped.
The light within the ice grew, gleaming so brightly Mara wished she could shift her hands enough to shield her eyes.
“You will get out of this, Mara Landil. You will find a way to get back to Tham.” Her heart raced as she gasped in air, trying to convince herself she wasn’t suffocating. She pressed her forehead to the ice. “Just let me get back to Tham. Please.”
She lurched forward as the ice pulled away from her, drifting back toward the edge of the bed. She leaned against the wall, pushing it away though she had little hope her efforts could battle whatever power altered her cell.
The ice slowed as it moved beyond her bed, retreating toward where it had always been before.
Mara leapt off the bed as soon as there was enough space for her on the ground, keeping her hands pressed to the ice, worsening the wounds on her fingers as she searched for a weak spot she might shove through.
Her gaze was so fixed on the wall, she saw nothing but the red of her own blood staining the blue until her toe ran into something that shifted.
A foot poked out of the ice.
The wall kept pulling back, revealing the rest of a leg, and a dark-skinned hand covered in blood.
The cuff of a black coat.
A Guilded Soldier’s coat.
“Tham? Tham!” Mara knelt beside him, trying to feel for a pulse in his wrist as the wall kept moving. Her hands shook too badly to find any faint hint of life beneath his skin. The blood on his hand had dried, but the wounds looked fresh.
She grabbed his arm, trying to wrench him free from the wall, but the ice wouldn’t let go of its prize.
The wall slowed as it moved across his chest.
Mara pressed her hand to his ribs, holding her breath as she waited for his chest to rise and fall. Or for the thump of a heartbeat. Any sign she hadn’t lost him.
His ribs rose. A slight shift. That tiny hint of life ripped a sob from her throat.
Her hands matched the movement of the ice, feeling the rest of his chest, his neck, his face for damage. There were no wounds on his head, but his eyes were closed.
“Tham.” Mara trailed her fingers along his cheek. “Tham, it’s me. Wake up. Tham!”
He didn’t move, didn’t flinch.
He couldn’t hear her. He’d never lie so still if he heard that sort of terrible fear in her voice.
She pressed her cheek to his face. Warm breath tickled her chill skin.
“It’s all right. You’ll be all right. I’ll get you warmed up.” Mara grabbed the blankets off the bed, choosing the cold of the floor over risking hoisting his body and worsening any injuries she couldn’t see. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
It wasn’t until she’d tucked the blankets around him that she noticed the tray on the far side of his body. Their captors had left more food than usual, more water, too, along with a kettle of something and more bandages and balms.
Mara closed her eyes and willed her heart to calm.
“We’ll get a little water in you. And I’ll bandage your hands.” She touched Tham’s cheek. His stubble had grown out longer than he’d ever allowed it. More like a beard than a bit of scruff. “I’ve missed you, my love.” She kissed his forehead. “I won’t let them separate us. Not ever again.”
4
Adrial
The scent of flowers lured Adrial from the blackness that surrounded him. He took a deep breath, wanting to catch more of the luscious aroma.
His ribs didn’t hurt as they expanded. It seemed rather wrong that they shouldn’t hurt, but he pushed the thought aside, more concerned about the flowers.
No, not the flowers.
He tried to slog through the fog in his mind. Each thought came slowly, threatening to drift away as he tried to catch hold.
The flowers. The scent of the flowers.
No.
The fragrance wasn’t important. It wasn’t the blooms. It was the girl.
The girl who had the scent of flowers in her hair.
Ena.
Fear shot through Adrial’s body.
He discovered he could move his hands as he gripped the soft sheets beneath him, and that his eyes could open as he blinked at the shadows on the dark ceiling above him.
“Ena.” He tried to say her name, but the dryness of his throat wouldn’t allow any sound to come out.
“Head Scribe.” A pudgy face mottled with bruises loomed over Adrial. “You’re awake, sir.”
Adrial took a breath. The air grated down his throat.
“Water, sir?” Taddy asked.
