Magnus Frostbeard's Arc

Chapter 9 of 15

The fire creature padded closer, and the pale horses screamed. Magnus's mare reared. She twisted under him and nearly threw him against the wall. Behind him, Greta fought her own mount. Thornpaw's horse bolted three steps and slid on the ice. Winterchase clung to her mare's neck. The heat rolled off the little lava beast, and the horses would not go near it. They pinned their ears and backed up the passage, away from the light, toward the dark and the chasm. "They won't go down," Magnus shouted. "They can smell the fire." Greta hauled her horse's head around. "Then we drive them up and go on without them." Magnus knew she was right, and it turned his stomach. The horses had carried them past the drop, past the pursuers. But no rope or blue leaf would push a horse toward flame. He swung down before his mare could throw him. "Off. All of you. We let them go." They stripped the packs fast. Thornpaw slapped the herd's flanks, and the pale horses wheeled and fled up the slope into the black, hooves ringing on the stone. The passage went quiet. Only the fire beast remained, watching them with molten eyes. Magnus shouldered his pack and lifted the relic. It burned hot against his glove. "On foot, then. We follow the light." The little beast turned and started down, and they followed it, one careful step at a time, over the solid rock its glow revealed. The passage opened. Heat struck Magnus's face like an open oven. Before them lay a pool of molten stone, ringed with rough black rock. Its surface turned slow and red. The fire beast trotted to the rim and stopped. Someone stood at the pool's edge. Small, slender, blue-grey skin marked with lines of gold that glowed like the moss. A crystal at its brow caught the molten light. It clasped its hands and would not meet their eyes. The fire beast pressed against its leg like a dog come home. Greta raised her axe. Magnus caught her arm again. "Wait," he said. He set the relic on the stone between them and the small one. Its glow leapt up bright, answering the pool. The shy creature looked at the relic, then at Magnus. Its shoulders eased. "You made this," Magnus said. He touched the relic. "Or your people did. You live by the heat." The creature gave the smallest nod. It lifted one hand and pointed past the molten pool, to a low arch in the rock where warm air moved. Magnus drew his chart and marked the pool, the arch, the way through. The horses were gone. The road behind them was blocked with dark and stone. But the warmth he had chased across the whole frozen waste stood in front of him now, and a living thing had pointed him toward its heart.