Aelar Brightwhisper's Arc

Chapter 5 of 8

Aelar started down the black stairs. Ten steps in, a wind rose from below. It struck his face like a slap of ice. His breath turned to frost on his lips. The blue light far below flickered, and the cold climbed with each stair he took. The wind was fighting him. The glacier did not want the seal opened. It pushed the freezing air up the narrow stairwell to drive him back. His hands went numb on the stone wall. His teeth clacked. One more gust knocked him against the steps. He pulled the pack around and dug for the fire starters. His fingers shook too hard to strike a spark. The knife slipped from his grip and rang on the stone. He crouched low, out of the worst of the wind, and forced himself to think. Then he remembered the fur mantle. The old spirit-walkers had worn it against cold like this. He dragged it tight around his shoulders and drew the collar to his chin. The dense white fur cut the wind at once. Warmth held close to his skin. He stopped shaking enough to stand. But the deeper he went, the darker it grew. The blue light shrank behind a turn in the stairs. Soon he could not see his own feet. He froze, one foot searching for the next step over nothing but black air. A soft glow leaked through the cloth of the pack. Aelar looked down. Something inside shone, throwing light through the weave. He tore the pack open and found a white crystal buried under the water skins. It gave off steady light, bright as a lantern. He lifted it high. The stairs sprang into view, curving down and down. The wind gusted again. This time the crystal's light showed him where to plant each foot. He pressed his back to the wall and climbed down step by step, the mantle blocking the cold, the crystal splitting the dark. The glacier howled through the stairwell, but it could not freeze him now, and it could not blind him. At the bottom the wind died. Aelar stepped off the last stair onto flat stone. Before him stood a small fox with nine tails and bright jewels set on its brow. It watched him with quick, clever eyes and did not run. "You brought light," the fox said. Its voice was small and warm. "The last one who tried came in the dark and lost the way." Aelar held out the crystal. The fox's jewels caught the glow and flared. Behind it, the blue light pulsed from a chamber cut into the ice—slow, deep, alive. The sleeping spirit lay near now, closer than ever. "I came to wake it," Aelar said. The fox flicked its tails. "Then follow. But the spirit does not wake for a voice alone. It will ask you for a price." It turned and trotted toward the blue light. Aelar wrapped the mantle tight and followed it in.