Sterling Forge's Arc

Chapter 18 of 31

They climbed the slope hand in hand until the trees thinned. The hill sat alone above a field of white. Sterling stopped when he saw it. A pale glow leaked out of the hillside where no glow should be. A flat stone stood set into the dirt like a door with no handle. Light bled from a seam down its middle, warm at the core, cold blue at the edges. "That's it," Linny said. She let go of his hand and ran the last of the way. Sterling followed, hand on the hammer at his belt. He touched the stone. It was warm. The seam of light ran from top to bottom, thin as a thread. He pressed the edges. Nothing moved. Linny knelt in the snow and pulled a small jar from her coat. She tipped it. A few gray flakes fell into her palm. The last of the ash. "Rub it on the seam," she said. "The girl showed me. In the vision." He did. The ash caught in the light and hissed. The stone did not open. Linny sat back. Her face went blank the way it did when she was thinking hard. The chipmunk climbed out of her pocket and sat on her knee, ears twitching. Below the hill, far off, something cracked in the trees. A branch, or a step. Sterling turned toward the sound. "Linny." "I know." She closed her eyes. "The girl showed me a hand. Not a key. A hand." "What does that mean." "She showed me the light moving. Up, then down. Then across." She opened her eyes and looked at the seam. She raised her hand and drew a line in the air along it, top to bottom. Then across, left to right. A cross. Nothing. Sterling watched the tree line. A shape moved between two trunks and stopped. Then another. He drew his blade. "Try it on the stone," he said. "Not the air." She pressed her palm to the seam and dragged it down. The light followed her hand like water. She stopped at the bottom, turned her palm sideways, and drew across. The stone split. The two halves swung inward without a sound. Warm air rolled out. Inside, a low tunnel led down, lit by the same soft glow held inside the stone itself. "Go," Sterling said. She grabbed his sleeve and pulled him with her. The chipmunk leapt to her shoulder. They ducked through together. Behind them, something crossed the snow at a run. The stone doors swung shut. The seam sealed. The sound outside cut off like a door slammed on a storm. They stood in the warm light, breathing hard. Linny's hand was still on his sleeve. Ahead, the tunnel sloped down into a glow that had no source he could name. "We're in," she said. Sterling nodded. He did not lower the blade.