Temar watched, open-mouthed, as the man laid a hand on the boulders at his feet and an unearthly golden glow swept up through the scree, bright beneath the dull gray of the weathered and stained stones. With a whisper at first, building to a full throated growl, the very rocks themselves flowed like water, swept sideways like wind-tossed waves, sliding downwards to leave the black hollow that led to the cavern open to the sunlight. A final ripple clattered back down through the scree, running its length to toss a few stones gently at Temar’s feet as the amber light faded and vanished.
He stared at the man. “What are you?”
“My name is Usara.” The man smiled and bowed abruptly from the waist. “I am a wizard.”
Temar shook his head in mystification.
“I work magic, but not as the Lady Guinalle does it. My colleague Shiv and I follow a different path.”
“Come on.” Livak, the redhead, was glaring at Temar again with that unwarranted dislike. “Let’s get this done!”
The broken and treacherous rocks were now transformed into a firm pathway and Temar found himself hurrying ever faster to reach the entrance to the cavern. He paused on the threshold, squinting into the darkness, any old fear of such places irrelevant in the face of his urgency to find Guinalle. A glow at his shoulder made him turn to reach for a torch, but he took an involuntary step backward when he saw a pale yellow flame burning insouciantly in the center of the magic-wielder’s palm.
“Don’t worry about it.” The other one, Shiv, raised his own hand to create a greenish light, seemingly reflected from the very rocks. “Just help us find Guinalle.”
Temar needed no further urging to move away from these strange people with their peculiar talents. He hurried down the rough-hewn steps, the arcane light pursuing him as the others followed. At the foot of the uneven stair, he paused and looked around the huge expanse of the cave, heart pounding in his chest but strength and courage returning to him with every pulse of his blood.
The cavern had been much enlarged by the miners, Temar recalled, hewn out of the living rock, angles and facets marking the stroke of axe and pick on the walls. The roof was jagged and uneven, dipping and rising in a series of frozen waves. The silent air was motionless, not over-cold but the absolute stillness made him shiver nonetheless. He forced himself to take another step as his unwanted companions crowded at his back. As they moved out into the cave as one, their footsteps rang harshly in the hushed calm.
Unnerved, the younger lad stood close to Temar and glanced around for guidance while the guardsmen exchanged wondering glances, looking back up to the circle of leafy daylight at the head of the stair. The two men, with their unnatural light growing to reach the furthest reaches of the cavern moved out to either side. No one entered the body of the cave, Temar noted with surprise, leaving that to the girl, Livak. She took a careful step forward, then another, a thief’s tread silent on the sandy floor as she picked her way through pallets and mattresses, rough beds of cloaks and blankets packed close together, a pale light of enchantment hovering over her head to show her a motionless figure in every space—men and women, unformed youths, bearded artisans, staid matrons, fresh faced maidens, children curled in unconscious memory of that first, short, dream-filled sleep within their mother’s belly. Temar watched as the green-eyed girl moved slowly between the motionless figures, his scalp prickling with apprehension.
Most looked peaceful, as if they merely slept, but others wore frowns, faces twisted with fear and sorrow, a crystal tear glinted in the corner of an eye, a mouth half open on a final protest. Some wore bandages, old blood staining the linen black and brown. These people were not asleep however. The warm flush of natural rest was nowhere to be seen. It was replaced on all sides by a cold pallor, an unnatural stiffness. Livak put a tentative hand to a young man’s cheek and shuddered.
“It’s like touching a marble statue,” she said softly, an echo carrying her words whispering around the cave, spiraling up into the darkness of the roof.
“Where will Guinalle be?” Parrail plucked hesitantly at Temar’s sleeve, eyes huge and black in the dim light.
Temar frowned. “I’m not sure. She would have been the last, so she could seal the cave, along with the Artifice, so…” His words trailed off as he looked around, gaze drawn to a low pallet set a little aside from the serried ranks stretching out into the cavern. He hurried toward it, the boy at his side, desperate hope taunting him, tears starting at a sudden pain behind his eyes.
“She’s beautiful,” the lad breathed and Temar could not find any words to answer him as he looked down on Guinalle’s motionless form. Clad in simple cream linen under an undyed woollen gown, her rich chestnut hair provided a single note of color, frozen in soft wisps against a face as remote and colorless as the more distant moon. A crystal vial with a silver lid shone between her breasts and a tightly furled parchment rested beneath her clasped hands. Temar stroked her hair, which was stiff and unresponsive under his fingers where it had once flowed, sensuous as silk.
“If this is her, get on with it,” Livak startled both of them as she appeared on silent feet to lean down and pull the document from Guinalle’s helpless hands. “Come on, Parrail, this is where you’re supposed to make yourself useful.” She spared Temar a glance, venomous with that peculiar dislike, and he felt a sudden shock of pain through his temples again.
The boy, Parrail, leafed through his book hastily, lips moving silently as he ran a finger over something. “Right,” he sniffed, and ran a trembling hand over his mouth. “I think I can do it.” He took the crystal vial and wrapped Guinalle’s white fingers tightly around it. Unrolling the parchment, he squinted uncertainly at the flowing script before clearing his throat and starting to read.
“Ais margan arsteli sestrinet…”
His faltering words echoed around the great cave and a terrible weakness overwhelmed Temar, dropping him helpless to hands and knees. Face close to Guinalle’s he saw her white pallor sicken and gray and, for one terrible moment, he saw the skull lying in wait, shining beneath her flawless skin. Something in the depths of Temar’s mind was screaming in anguish and rage, that lone, tormented voice drowned in the next instant by howls of disembodied anguish battering him from all sides. A foul charnel air choked him and he struggled for breath.
“No,” he gasped, “no, stop, you’re killing us!”
“Have you no sense of rhythm in you? Trimon curse you for a tone-deaf fool!” Livak snatched the parchment from Parrail as she cursed him.
“Ais marghan, ar stelhi, sess thrinet torre…” Her musical voice rang high and clear in the emptiness as she chanted the cadence of an ancient tongue and Temar blinked the desperate tears from his eyes to become aware of another sound. Slight and hesitant at first, the sigh of breath rose from Guinalle’s sleeping form and he saw the first kiss of life soften her lips to a living rose. A blush warmed her pale cheeks and the unnatural stiffness left her body and clothes, the folds of her gown relaxing in a soft fall around her slim frame and wisps of her long hair moving slightly as her breath caught them.
She shivered suddenly and opened her eyes, wondering and curious as she saw the faces above her. No one spoke. Guinalle frowned slightly, puzzled. She reached out and touched Temar’s face as he knelt there, heart too full of emotion to speak.
“Are you real? I dreamed of you, in a distant land, far from family and friends. Is this another dream?”
Temar clasped her delicate hand in his to warm it between his palms. “This is no dream. You are awake now, Guinalle. Vahil sent help to rescue us all!”
Guinalle sat up abruptly, her eyes confused. As she did so, the crystal vial rolled down her skirts to shatter on the stone floor. The strong scent of perfume made her gasp, “I remember, I remember! The sleep, the cave—” She looked round, eyes wide and face distressed, snatching her hand away.