Aelar Brightwhisper's Arc

Chapter 7 of 8

Aelar took Lyra's cold hand and helped her stand. She swayed on her bare feet. Her thin white dress clung to her skin, still frozen stiff from a hundred years of frost. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered hard. "I cannot climb like this," she said. Her voice had lost its steadiness. "The deeper ice is colder than this chamber. It will take me before we reach the stairs." Aelar looked at his own fur mantle. He could give it to her. But then the cold would take him instead, and he still had to climb and swing the pick. He turned in a slow circle, searching the chamber for anything that might help. He found nothing but ice and stone. The fox rose from beside his feet. Its nine tails swept the frost from the floor. The power jewels on its brow caught the blue light. "You carry more than you remember, seeker," it said. It nosed toward the pack on Aelar's back. "Look at the bottom. The forest spirit packed it deeper than you know." Aelar swung the pack down and dug through it. Fire starters. Water skins. A folding knife. He pushed them aside and reached to the very bottom. His fingers touched soft fur. He pulled out a folded white cloak, lined with thick fur, with deep pockets and a wide hood. Lyra went still. Her ice-blue eyes fixed on the cloak. "I know that cloak," she whispered. She reached out and touched the fur. "My people made this. They gave it to me the night before I went to sleep. I thought the glacier had swallowed it." "Then it's yours," Aelar said. He held it open for her. She slid her arms into the sleeves. The cloak settled over her shoulders and fell to her feet. She pulled the hood up. The shivering slowed, then stopped. Color returned to her cheeks. She flexed her fingers inside the deep cuffs. "A hundred years, and it still remembers me," she said softly. She looked at Aelar. The soft smile came back to her face. "Now the cold cannot reach me. Now I can climb." The fox padded toward the dark stairs and looked back at them. "Then don't wait," it said. "The way up is longer than the way down." Lyra tightened the cloak's clasp at her throat. She stepped toward the black stone stairs, steady now on her bare feet. The frost no longer held her. "Come, Aelar," she said. "Stay close, and match my pace. The glacier will fight us the higher we go." Aelar shouldered the pack and gripped the pick. He followed her onto the first step. Above them, the blue light waited, and the long climb to free her voice began.