A Cavern of Black Ice (70 page)

Angus shook his head softly, though his
eyes were hard gold. "No one wants Ash harmed here. No one.
Heritas has told us of the dangers, and he does not lie. Now we must
find a way to save her. You heard what he said—she will die if
we do not act."

Raif waved his uncle's words away. He
believed Heritas Cant had spoken the truth—some of it—but
he also believed that Cant was more concerned about a possible breach
to the Blindwall than he was about Ash. Turning to Cant, he said,
"What is the name of this place where she must go to release her
power safely? I will take her there."

"There is not much time,"
Heritas Cant said, anger at being forced to cower in his chair making
his voice shrill. "You have seen her blackouts for yourself.
These will only get worse. Her health will only get worse. As I said
earlier, I can set wardings to keep the voices at bay, give drugs to
steel her mind, but these measures will prove effective for only so
long. This place lies several weeks to the north. It is not an easy
journey at any time of year, but now, in winter…" Cant
clicked his sticks. "Gods spare us all."

"Just tell us where it is."
Ash sounded tired. Raif saw where she had scratched the varnish from
the table with her nails.

"I'm not sure of the exact
location of the of the Cavern of Black Ice…"

"Black ice?" Ash said, paling
visibly.

"Yes. The cavern lies beyond the
Storm Margin in the west. I've heard tell that it sits beneath Mount
Flood, in the crease where the mountain and the Hollow River meet,
ten days south of Ice Trapper territory."

"What is it?" Angus asked
Ash, ignoring what Cant was saying completely.

Ash lowered her head. "I've had
nightmares about cavern for as long as I can remember. Terrible
dreams, where I'm trapped or crushed or lost."

"And were the walls of this cavern
formed from black ice?" Cant's green eyes glowed with interest.
Ash nodded, and he made a little satisfied sound. "Then your
dreams have been showing you how to survive. This cavern is as old as
the Blind, and may indeed be made from the same substance. I cannot
be sure. What I
do
know is that it had been used by Reaches
before you. It is said to absorb a Reach's power, hold it within its
walls, and stop it from causing a crack in the Blindwall."

Ash didn't look convinced. She glanced
at Raif, but he could offer her no help. "But the nightmares…"

Cant made a calming gesture with his
hand. When he spoke his voice was surprisingly soft. "The
creatures in the Blind can infiltrate your dreams; that is how they
call to you. Every time you fall asleep you are vulnerable to them.
Now that they sense you are close to releasing your power, they have
grown bolder and have laid siege to your waking mind as well. Their
weapon is fear. You have fought them so far, bravely, with such
strength as I can hardly imagine." With a small shrug of his
shoulders, Cant highlighted his own physical weakness. "Do not
let them stop you from doing what you must."

Raif leaned against the table. Suddenly
he didn't know what to make of Heritas Cant. Nothing was
straightforward here. Secrets and traps lay behind every word. There
was truth, but it was not the
whole
truth, and he wondered
how much Cant was keeping to himself.

Smoke from the lantern rose and
shivered like a fifth presence in the room. Raif watched as Ash
breathed it in as she spoke. "If I go to this cavern, will it be
the end of this… this thing that I'm part of?"

Cant sighed heavily, the nostrils on
his still fine nose flaring to two dark holes. "Yes and no. The
power that is building inside you has only one purpose, and once it
is safely discharged you will never know its like again. Yet you will
still be a Reach; that will not change. You will be able to walk the
borderlands at will, hear and sense the creatures that live there,
and your flesh will become
rahkar dan
, Reach-flesh, which is
held sacred by the Sull. Why, I do not know. Why Reaches exist, I
cannot tell you. Perhaps the sorcery that originally sealed the Blind
was flawed. Perhaps it is impossible to build a prison without a
key." Cant smiled briefly. "Perhaps one day when you ask me
that same question I may have an answer that suits us both. One thing
I am sure of, though, is that if the Endlords and their Taken are
freed from the Blind they will destroy us all. They walk in death,
they are sustained by hate, and their memories last as long as the
sun.

"Yes, Asarhia March. You do well
to look afraid. I, who have spent a lifetime learning about these
matters, am more afraid than you can see. I know the names of the
beasts. I know what is in there, some of it, and even that small
portion of knowledge burns like the fires of hell in my mind. So
travel north along the Storm Margin with this young man who has
broken one of my chairs and does not trust me, go and wade through
waist-high snow, crawl over black ice, and release your power safely.
And when you've done, come back to me, and then perhaps I'll tell you
about the creatures of the Blind, recite a list of their names and
their deeds. For if I told you now, I would only be unburdening
myself at your expense. And although I am a sick man, with little but
knowledge and counting to live for, I seldom act out of spite."

Green eyes made brilliant by speech and
strong emotions glanced briefly, accusingly, at Raif. "Tis
better that I know much and you know little. Let me worry and you
act."

Raif felt blood pumping up through his
neck to his face. He didn't know if Cant's words were meant for him
or Ash. Either way he felt frightened and stirred. He wanted to be
gone, now, away from Cant and the spinning silk of his knowledge,
away from Angus and his hidden motives, back to the wide-open spaces
of the clanholds. He was boxed in by secrets. Getting at the truth
seemed an impossible task; Cant was too clever, and Angus was too
well practiced. Together they were bent on controlling Ash and
probably him as well.

The door to the chamber looked
inviting; one push and it would open, one short walk through the
adjoining tunnel and he would be outside in the night. Punish Moose,
and he'd be in the clanholds in less than a day. Blackhail would
never have him back, but Dhoone might take him, or one of the lesser
clans like Bannen or Orrl. Outcasts could find homes in other clans;
Gat Murdock had been taken in by Ewan Blackhail after he'd fought
with Wort Croser over a woman and her dowry of two poorly drained
fields. Raif tried to think of others but failed. He looked from the
door to Ash, and as soon as their eyes met he knew he would go
nowhere, not tonight. She had asked him to stand by her, and he had
agreed. And as a clansman he was bound by his word.

A small sound, like half a breath,
escaped his lips. Who was he to take refuge in a promise? He, who had
broken faith with his brother and his clan? Raif closed his eyes for
a moment, willed the pain not to come.

"I know the Storm Margin as well
as any man," Angus said, breaking the silence that had possessed
the chamber since Cant had finished speaking. Uncharacteristically,
he seemed ill at ease and could find nothing to occupy his large
hands. "Let me take you and Raif as far as Mount Flood. You'll
need someone to show you the ways of the ice. The Margin is beset by
white winds in winter. It's easy to become lost or fall victim to
cold sickness or the 'bite. I can teach you how to wait out storms,
show you how to find food beneath the rime, and make shelter by
burrowing into old snow. Packs of ice wolves range the Margin, and in
dark seasons they become desperate enough to attack men. I know their
signs and their trails and how best to avoid them. I'll see that you
get to Mount Flood alive and unharmed and in good time."
Finished, Angus looked from Ash to Raif. It was the closest thing to
a plea Raif had ever seen his uncle make. Raif knew Angus possessed
skills that he did not, yet every clansman worth his lore learned
early about hard living in the white weather. Wolves and ice storms
were part of clan life. Raif sucked in breath. Why, then, was it so
important to Angus to come with them?

Ash looked first to Raif, then to
Angus. "How soon do we leave?" It was all planning after
that.

Heritas Cant left them as they spoke of
supplies and routes and clothing and horses. Rising gracelessly from
his black wood chair, he muttered something about things that needed
to be prepared. Watching him support his broken body with the aid of
two sticks, Raif found himself admiring the strength of will that lay
like an iron plate beneath Cant's skin. He did not trust him, yet he
respected him, and it occurred to Raif that perhaps in the cityholds
that was the most he could expect from another man.

With Cant gone, Angus took control of
matters and began to plan a route that would involve only minimal
time spent in the clanholds. Raif recognized his uncle's
consideration and was grateful for it, and as the night wore on and
he learned more about the Storm Margin and the bleak wind-carved
wastes that surrounded Mount Flood, he gave thanks to the Stone Gods
that Angus would be with them.

Later, much later, when the goose-fat
lantern had all but dried and the flames chewed away at the last bit
of rope, Cant returned to the chamber bearing two copper bowls and a
knife of gray steel. Angus, who had been in the process of warning
Ash about cold sickness, stopped speaking in midsentence and rose to
help Cant. Angus' great red face was showing signs of strain, and his
ready smile was missing as he greeted the broken man.

It had been a long day for all of them.
Ash and Raif watched each other across the table as Angus and Cant
arranged things at the other end of the room. Raif suddenly wished
they were alone. There were things he wanted to say to her, small
things that no one else had asked or said. He wanted to know if she
felt strong enough for the journey north, if she was afraid, how much
she believed of what Heritas Cant had said.

Ash smiled gently, rubbing eyes that
were nearly red. "You wouldn't let anyone near me earlier."

Raif felt heat come to his cheeks. "I
didn't want you to fall asleep again," he said. Even to his own
ears, his voice sounded gruff.

"I'm glad you're coming with me."

With those words the night changed one
last time. Cant came forward, bearing the first of the copper bowls.
His eyes glittered like two pieces of seaglass as he said to Ash,
"Lie down on the bench. I must place what wardings as I can upon
you."

Ash's eyes flicked to Raif. Her mouth
made a small grimace of fear.

"I will not harm you," Cant
said. "The cost is only to myself."

But…

"But what? Would you rather I did
nothing and allow the creatures of the Blind free rein to take you?
Your mind was last held by them for four days; would you wish to let
them seize it again?"

Ash shook her head.

"Lie down then, and let me do what
I must."

After a moment's hesitation, Ash
brought her feet off the floor and lowered her back onto the bench.
She was shaking, Raif noticed. So was Cant.

"Angus. If this young man is to
stay and watch, you must take him in hand. I will not have him
throwing his fine clansman's body around, raging about things he does
not understand."

"Aye, Heritas." Angus
beckoned Raif to his side. "The lad will stay by me, I'll see to
that."

Raif did not like being spoken of as if
he were a child, and he suspected Heritas Cant had done so to punish
him one last time for breaking the chair. Still, he crossed to where
Angus stood at the head of the table and settled himself in place
against the edge.

Cant's spine had too many vertebrae. As
he bent to loosen the ties at Ash's throat, they poked through the
thin fabric of his robe like fishbones.
Who broke him
? Raif
wondered.
What crime bears the sentence of the wheel
?

"Place this upon your tongue."
Cant held out a dried leaf for Ash to take. "Bite through it
when I say so." Ash did as she was told. Raif was watching her
so intently, he didn't see Cant draw the knife.

"Easy, lad," Angus said under
his breath, reacting to the tension that shot through Raif's body
like lightning.

Easing back to reassure Angus, Raif
watched as Cant drew the knife to his wrist. The blade rested there,
above a vein as thin and insubstantial as a curl of smoke, while
Cant's lips spoke words that Raif could not hear.

The room dimmed. Air became thicker,
colder, harder to expel from the lungs. The stench of copper and
blood rose in the room like mist rising from a field at battle's end.
Raif's mouth watered. Sickened, he swallowed hard.

Ash's face shone with sweat. Her eyes
were closed and her mouth was open, and the skin Cant had bared at
her throat flushed pink. Cant stood above her, joined to her by the
substance pouring from his mouth. Raif saw it as thick shadow, a
mixture of words and air and something else he had no name for. Light
ran along the knifeblade as Cant sliced into his skin.

Blood welled in a perfectly straight
line, so bright and hearty it was shocking to see it pump from such
pale, misshapen flesh. Following the line of the blade, it dripped
into the hammered copper bowl, pattering like a child's footsteps on
tile.

"Bite the leaf," Cant said.

Ash's mouth closed. Her jaw worked once
and then was still. Cant dropped the knife and placed his good hand
on the tissue of Ash's throat. The air in the room shifted, as if
moved by an opening door. Raif felt the raven lore grow hot against
his skin. Cant's presence became somehow
less
than it was,
wavering as if seen through the heat from a fire. Pulse racing, Raif
became acutely aware of the danger. Ash was a
Reach;
it
meant old skills and old knowledge and power beyond anything he knew.
If she fought against Cant, she could kill him.