Aelar Brightwhisper's Arc

Chapter 6 of 8

The fox led Aelar into the chamber. Ice walls curved high on every side. In the center lay a woman on a bed of pale stone. Frost coated her lashes and hair. Her skin looked carved from the ice itself. She was young, no older than Aelar. She did not move. A century of frost buried her body under a smooth white crust. Aelar knelt beside her. "Wake up," he said. "Please. Your people need you." His voice came out thin in the cold. She did not stir. He said her name the way the elders had taught him. "Lyra Frostwhisper." Nothing. The frost held her fast. The fox sat near his feet. "A stranger's voice cannot reach her," it said. "She sleeps too deep for words. She waits for something older than speech." Aelar looked around the chamber. In one corner stood a harp of frozen crystal. Sharp gems crowned its frame. Its strings glinted like threads of ice. He crossed to it and touched one string. A single note rang out, clear and bright. The sound shivered through the frost on the walls. "A song," Aelar whispered. "Not a voice. A song." He sat before the harp. His hands ached with cold, but the fur mantle kept the worst of it from his fingers. He did not know this instrument. He knew only the lullabies his mother sang. He played the first one he could remember. The notes came slow and uneven. Some strings cracked with frost and bent the sound. He kept going. The tune warmed as his fingers found their way. The blue light in the chamber pulsed faster, matching his rhythm. The frost on Lyra's face began to melt. Water beaded on her cheeks and slid away. Her lashes trembled. Aelar played louder, leaning into the song, and the crust over her body thinned and broke. Her chest rose. She drew a long breath. Her eyes opened. They were ice blue, sharp and clear. She turned her head and looked at the boy at the harp. A soft smile crossed her face. "A hundred years," she said. Her voice was low and steady. "And a child wakes me with his mother's song." She sat up. Frost slid from her shoulders. "You reached me. But you know what waking me means." Aelar's hands went still on the strings. "The price," he said. "The fox warned me." Lyra rose from the stone bed. She stood no taller than Aelar, yet her gaze held the weight of a hundred winters. "I cannot speak to the realm from this chamber," she said. "The glacier sealed my voice below the ice. To free it, one of us must climb to the surface and open the way from above. And the climb takes more than you carried down." She held out her cold hand. "Come. The hard part begins now."