The sounds ahead of them did not sound like people but D’Argen just knew they were not the sounds of the mountain or ice settling. He called out again and though his words echoed, there was no response. The faint light at the end of the tunnel though was encouraging so D’Argen sped up his steps. He opened his mahee barely a fraction and then had to immediately close it when his shoulder hit the tunnel wall too hard. He looked behind him out of confusion only to see that Thar was much farther away than he thought.
D'Argen waited for Thar to catch up with him. Thar did not hurry up his steps at all so by the time the cold white light emanating from his chest reached D’Argen, the runner was bouncing on the spot.
“They are here,” D’Argen said, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice.
Thar nodded and hummed, and then continued walking.
“Should I run us?” D’Argen asked, his feet begging him to skip ahead.
“Not yet,” Thar answered, his voice low and quiet and barely echoing at all.
D’Argen did not understand why Thar refused for them to move faster until another sound echoed down the tunnel toward them and D’Argen froze. That definitely did not sound like a voice. The rumble intensified, washing over them like a current and then the shaking followed.
Before D’Argen could even figure out what to do, Thar was right behind him and reaching out. He flinched before they touched and if they were in another situation, D’Argen would have rolled his eyes. He reached back for Thar’s raised hand and laced their fingers together. It felt so natural and even as the shaking intensified and Thar came closer to him, D’Argen could not focus on that.
Instead, he remembered feeling as one.
Thar was once, long ago, known as the God of War. Before that, though, he was simply known as one of the strongest naturalists after Darania herself. His control over the cold was something that the others often looked at with awe.
As the shaking finally reached them, the ground under them shifting and the tunnel walls and ceiling shedding pieces of rocks and ice on them, D’Argen remembered why Thar had been so feared. The moment he felt the first vibration under his feet, it disappeared. The small pebbles that should have fallen on them turned to ice crystals and shifted away as if on a soft breeze and the larger breaks of rock shattered and turned into dust.
The runner closed his eyes to protect them from the dust and turned into Thar’s body, moving close enough to bury his face in Thar’s shoulder. The other man stiffened and his hold on D’Argen’s hand tightened so much that it almost hurt. Then the vibrations faded away and Thar let him go as if scalded, stepping away so quick that D’Argen followed just to keep balance.
“What was—”
“We should keep going,” Thar interrupted him and started walking without so much as a glance at D’Argen.
The runner skipped two steps but the tunnel was too narrow to walk side by side so he followed after Thar and his cold white light. So cold. Everything about the man from his long white hair that flowed behind him to his pale skin that looked almost unhealthy, from his white robes even with the dark stains on the back to the light that he manipulated. Everything about Thar screamed the north. He belonged here.
Maybe not under his mountain, maybe more on top of a cliff overlooking the endless expanse of snow and ice and mountains in the distance, but this was Thar’s element.
So that scorching heat that D’Argen had felt when they connected made no sense at all.
They came to a fork in the tunnel, one side with rubble and just barely enough space for them to slip through, while the other looked perfectly formed and almost too smooth. Thar stood at the fork and eyed each direction, narrowing and pointing the light to try and shine further.
D’Argen had a really good sense of direction. With how fast he ran, he had to, otherwise, he would have been spending most of his time swimming and trying not to drown. Even so, they had stumbled and fallen and followed so many twists that all he knew for sure was that one of the tunnels had a slight incline. Just as he was about to point that way, Thar started walking into the opposite tunnel – the one with the rubble.
Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
“Wait here,” he said and then opened his mahee. D’Argen felt the air around him become almost stifling hot as Thar drew all the cold toward him and used it to freeze the rubble while he moved through it. His light got fainter and fainter and then eventually it was only a glow through the rocks.
D’Argen tried to be patient but his feet were tapping out a rhythm on the ground. He pulled at the collar of his robe to try and get some cool air down his clothes, but it only brought in more heat.
Thar was the ruler of ice – not fire. Yet, D’Argen felt, even Yelem would not be able to make D’Argen sweat so much so quickly. And it did not feel like Thar was using one of Yelem’s fire spells either. No. This was the absence of cold.
“This way,” Thar’s voice appeared through the hole in the rubble. D’Argen followed it.
The tunnel that he exited into was not as smooth as before and he had to duck his head down, but it definitely had a steeper incline than the one D’Argen had seen earlier at the fork.
“Are we not going to—”
“No,” Thar interrupted him without waiting for D’Argen to finish his question.
D’Argen frowned at Thar’s back. “Can you at least—”
“No.”
“Will you let me fucking speak!?” D’Argen shot out quickly, feeling the anger inside him burning through his veins and stabbing at him. The itch was focused on his arms and he ran his hands up and down them as quickly as possible.
“Are you cold?” Thar asked and stopped, turning to face him. He did not, however, raise his eyes. They were focused on D’Argen’s feet.
“Maybe if you brought that heat back…” D’Argen trailed off when Thar raised his eyes and narrowed in on him in a glare. “Fine. Whatever.” D’Argen brushed him off and then brushed past him to walk ahead. The bright light Thar was shining created a thick shadow in front of the runner, but he was able to use his mahee to balance out his steps even through the rough rubble.
Then Thar’s light suddenly went out and D’Argen panicked. Did something happen? Before he could turn to check on Thar though, he noticed that they were not in pitch black. The faint light they had seen from before was back and it was no longer faint. And neither were the sounds.
D’Argen sped up without looking back and when the tunnel suddenly opened into a cavern he slid to a stop and felt relief flood through him.
“Over here!” he called as loudly as he could and then jumped up to wave. The cavern was huge, he was at least a hundred meters off the ground of it, but on the other end, around a campfire, were multiple figures. All of them turned to his call and then multiple of them jumped up.
D’Argen grinned wide and then looked for a safe way down. Just as he found a jump that he could make with his mahee, Thar joined him out of the tunnel and onto the ledge. D’Argen felt something like relief flood through him before that horrible wall of ice made it disappear. Without thinking, D’Argen grabbed Thar’s hand, opened his mahee, and jumped.
When they slid to a stop, the wind from his run almost put out the fire. He did not focus on that. Instead, he focused on Abbot who rushed him and enveloped him in a hug so tight that his ribs protested.
“Thank the mahee,” Abbot sobbed and then he started crying as he held D’Argen close.
D’Argen tried to let go but Abbot refused to and then he could do nothing but hold the artist close as his crying turn into great, heaving sobs that shook his entire body. Then the artist’s legs went out from under him and D’Argen followed him down, both of them collapsing on their knees on the ground and still hugging. A moment later, Yaling came to their side and when her hand rested on D’Argen’s shoulder, Abbot let him go with one hand, grabbed it tight, and pulled her down.
“We thought it was you, for a moment,” Yaling said and her voice was shaking. D’Argen had not heard her like that in a long time.
“Probably was,” D’Argen grinned, trying to make the smile audible in his words to calm them. “Just a sprain. All good now.”
But Abbot stiffened in his hold. So did Yaling. They both let him go slowly and even through the tears running down both their faces, he noticed the shock. He could not keep smiling at those faces. He looked past them at Haur who looked just as surprised, a hand covering his mouth and tears streaking down his own face.
“What is it?” D’Argen asked and then looked around at the others. They were all mortals and they did not dare look at him at all. A glance at Thar revealed that the other was just as confused as him.
“Did you…” Yaling’s careful words brought D’Argen’s eyes back to her as she wiped her tears away with jerky movements. “Did you not feel it?”
“How?” Abbot almost shouted.
Haur came closer and his face was stern. He looked like he had to deliver some absolutely horrible news. D’Argen focused on him even as Abbot’s arm around his waist tightened and Yaling’s grip on his shoulder became painful.
“Lilian,” Haur only said the name and D’Argen felt his veins flood with ice.
“What about them?” he asked and did not want to know the answer.
Lilian was there. In that ethereal place where Tassikar smiled at them. Lilian had been so violent and attacked him with his own sword. Lilian had cried and turned to snow. The breeze had pushed the ocean waves into the ice.
“They are gone.”
D’Argen screamed.