Aelar Brightwhisper's Arc

Chapter 8 of 8

The stairs ended at a wall of white ice. Above it, Aelar saw the pale glow of the surface. Lyra pressed her palm to the ice and closed her eyes. The nine-tailed fox sat at her feet, its jeweled brow bright in the gloom. Aelar swung the pick and cracked a hole through the last of the ice. Cold wind rushed in. They climbed out onto the frozen spring, under an open gray sky. Lyra stood tall on the snow. She lifted her face and opened her mouth to sing. No sound came. She tried again. Her lips moved, but the ice under her feet drank the song before it could rise. She turned to Aelar, and for the first time her calm broke. "The glacier still holds my voice," she said. "It swallows every sound at the surface. I need something to carry the song past the ice." She looked at his empty hands. "The harp stayed below. I cannot reach it now." Aelar dropped the pack and dug through it. Fire starters. Water skins. The folding knife. Nothing that made music. He sat back on his heels, and his eyes fell on the fox. The fox stepped close. Its nine tails fanned out across the snow. "The jewels on my brow were cut from the same crystal as her harp," it said. "Strike them, seeker. They will ring where the ice would kill a voice." Aelar looked at Lyra. She gave a small nod. He drew the folding knife and held the flat of the blade near the fox's forehead. His hand shook. The fox held still and watched him with steady eyes. "Now," the fox said. Aelar tapped the blade against the largest jewel. A clear, high note rang out. It did not sink into the ice. It hung in the cold air and grew louder. He struck the next jewel, then the next. The notes climbed and joined. Lyra began to sing. This time her voice caught the ringing jewels and rode them upward. The song swelled over the frozen spring. The ice trembled under their feet. Cracks spread out in bright lines, and pale light broke through them. Far below, something vast stirred. The whole glacier seemed to breathe. The song reached its peak and then stopped. Lyra lowered her hands. Her eyes shone. "They heard me," she whispered. "After a hundred years, the ice let my voice through." But the cracks did not close. They widened. The ground shook harder. The fox flattened its ears. "The glacier is waking now, all of it," it said. "You freed her voice. You did not free the spirit beneath. That thing is still asleep, and now it feels the whole mountain moving." Aelar gripped the pick as the ice split around him. Lyra took his hand. "Come," she said. "We must reach the sleeping one before the glacier tears itself apart."