Hoarfrost (Whyborne & Griffin Book 6) (14 page)

Whyborne

“Be
careful!” Griffin called from the rapidly vanishing oval of light above. “If
you have any trouble at all, two tugs on the rope and we’ll pull you back up!
And if you do find something, for God’s sake, don’t go wandering about!”

I bit
back a sigh he wouldn’t have heard anyway, and concentrated on keeping myself
from swinging too violently against the side of the moulin. Neither Christine
nor I were experienced enough at climbing to attempt to rappel down. As a
result, the rest of our party lowered us in slings tied into the ends of the
long ropes.

The
surface of the ice beneath my mittens was smooth as glass, but rippled and
pitted by the water that had carved into the glacier. My lantern revealed fine
striations in the ice as it slipped past, each one marking some ancient
snowfall.

How deep
was this hole? Would we have enough rope? Would it reach the bedrock below, or
would it change from a wide entrance to a crevice too narrow to navigate?

“Do you
see the bottom yet?” I called down to Christine.

“Not
yet, but—oh!”

I tried
to twist about to see what was happening, but succeeded only in dashing my
shoulder into the hard-packed ice. “Christine! Are you all right? What’s
happening?”

“You’ll
see!” she called back, but her voice sounded fainter than before. A moment
later, I understood why.

The
walls of the moulin drew back, the ice no longer around me but above, like the
ceiling of some vast cathedral. I held out my lantern. Without anything to
brace against, I spun in a slow circle, the light catching off of the ceiling,
then some distant wall.

“I’m
down!” Christine called, although at this depth no one on the surface could
hear. A moment or two later, my feet also thumped lightly on the ground.

Christine
had already climbed out of her sling, which lay coiled on the exposed earth—a
jumble of gravel and frozen mud, ground down by the passage of the glacier. I
hurried to join her.

“How far
do you think it goes?” I asked, peering into the gloom.

“Most
likely the ice cave reaches all the way to the foot of the glacier.”  She
began to make her way in the other direction, up the gentle slope. “More
moulins must be somewhere above, feeding into the cave.”

“Where
are you going?” I hurried after her. “We promised we wouldn’t go far.”

“I’m
not. But I’m also not going back to the surface without some idea of what’s
down here, umbra or no umbra.”

I kicked
at the jumble of small stones, but they were frozen to the earth beneath them. “Anything
that used to be here has been scoured away.”

“We
already knew that would be the case.” Christine stopped abruptly. “Whyborne—look.
There’s an opening.”

We
approached cautiously. A large, curiously regular, hole pierced the floor of
the glacial cave. Our lantern light fell onto it, revealing what were
unmistakably masonry blocks. They appeared to form a ramp, descending to some
lower level within the mountain.

“If only
we’d brought the camera—curse it,” Christine said. “Do you know what this
means, Whyborne? At least part of the city is still here!”

“And
presumably it’s the part with the monster sealed inside,” I murmured, but in
truth my heart sped with excitement. Griffin didn’t appreciate just how
extraordinary this find was, what it meant to human history. From now on
everything would be different. All of the books on the rise of civilizations
would have to be rewritten. Our very understanding of our species might change.

What
secrets did these ancients know? What sorcery? What might
I—we—learn from them?

The
lantern beams shifted erratically, thanks to our trembling hands. We couldn’t
turn back—not yet. We had to see for ourselves that our wildest
imaginings were in fact true.

And if
the umbra was here, if it was calling to Griffin in some way, we’d just not
disturb anything that looked like a magical seal. Simple enough.

The ramp
sloped sharply, and we used care to navigate it. Fortunately, it didn’t go far,
but instead ended in a large, hexagonal room. Whatever water flowed through
during the warmer months must drain deeper, as no ice coated the floor.
Reliefs, some badly worn from the action of time and water, covered all five
walls. I could make out little of them, except they seemed to show geometric
shapes, animals, and plants. The oddly grouped dots, which appeared to be some
system of writing, were also present. On the other side of the room, opposite
the ramp, a doorway opened on to blackness.

“We’d
best return,” Christine said reluctantly. “Iskander will call off the wedding
if we explore any farther without him.”

“And
Griffin shall wish a divorce for giving him heart palpitations,” I agreed, equally
reluctant. Still, if I knew Griffin at all, he would be frantic by now, certain
something horrible had happened to us both. I didn’t want to cause him any
unnecessary worry. “We have little time left. Tomorrow is the solstice, and it’s
already quite late in the day. We need to return to camp, gather whatever gear
we need, and come back immediately.”

“Agreed.”
Her mouth pursed. “And hope these ruins aren’t so extensive we can’t find these
seals of yours before it’s too late.” Then she brightened. “Or perhaps the
umbra will prove to be something I can shoot. Then we won’t have to worry about
it anymore!”

“Not
everything can be shot, Christine.”

“Bah!
You’re such a pessimist.” Lowering her lantern, she turned back to the ramp. “Now
let’s return, before Griffin and Iskander come down here looking for us.”

Whyborne

As we
made our way back to camp, Christine ran off a long list of needed supplies,
Iskander occasionally putting in an addition of his own. As everyone else’s
attention was on Christine, I moved closer to Griffin. Careful to keep my voice
low, I said, “Perhaps you shouldn’t go with us.”

A
veritable rainbow of colors streamed across the heavens: green, white, and red,
shading into violet. It looked as if the sky itself burned, and the glacier
reflected the colors eerily.

Griffin’s
jaw tightened at my words. “Of course I’m going with you.”

How
could I make him see reason? “Griffin, if it is the umbra you’re hearing,
getting closer to it might not be the wisest thing for you to do.”

“If it
is the umbra, I’ll be able to lead you to it,” he countered.

“Which
might not be at all healthy for you. Coupled with your fear of underground
places—”

It was
the wrong thing to have said; I knew it as soon as the words left my mouth. He
came to a halt on the outskirts of the camp, and shot me a glare. “Damn it,
Ival, I’m not an invalid, or a child! Stop treating me as one.”

“I don’t!”
I protested. “Is it wrong to be concerned for you?”

“I don’t
want your concern, if it means suggesting I’d ever, even for a moment, consider
letting you go down there by yourself due to some fear of mine!”

Must he
be so stubborn? “I won’t be alone. I’ll have Christine and Iskander. And what
if we’re wrong somehow, and the umbra isn’t below the ground but above it?
Surely someone should stay behind and protect Jack and the others.”

“Stop.
Please, just stop.” His mouth twisted into an angry frown. “You’re trying to
find some excuse, no matter how unlikely, so I—”

A loud
crack sounded from above us on the mountain, echoing from the peaks around us.
We both fell silent, startled by the sound.

There
came a loud rumble, like thunder. But the sky was clear, and the rumble growing
closer and closer.

“Avalanche!”
Scarrow shouted.

For a
moment, I froze in horror. The entire glacier above us seemed on the move, the
recent snowfall breaking free of the ice below and roaring down like a wave in
slow motion.

A wave.

Snow was
just water, after all.

I didn’t
let myself think. The guides were already running, but even if we somehow
outpaced the avalanche, our camp would be destroyed and our dogs killed. Most
likely we’d end up caught and crushed as well.

I ran
toward the oncoming wall of snow. Griffin shouted something behind me, but I
couldn’t make it out over the now-deafening thunder of the slide. I tore off my
right mitten and flung it away. Dropping to one knee, I thrust out my hand.

In
Widdershins, with all the power of the vortex to draw from, I might have been
able to stop the avalanche. Here, I had only my own will to call upon. The
scars lacing my right arm burned and pulled tight. I
felt
the snow, the
water in frozen form, different and yet the same as the fluid I’d manipulated
many times before.

I shoved
it back, away from me. Liquid would flow together, but this was so many bits of
ice, some catching on each other, while the rest tumbled free. A clear wedge
formed directly before me, but it wasn’t enough.

Above
the roar of approaching snow, there came the sound of someone chanting in Aklo.
I couldn’t spare the attention to wonder whom it might be, or what it might
mean. I could only keep my will steady, pushing back against the avalanche.

The
furrow I’d created deepened, snow rolling off to either side. The moving pack
exploded into powder, and ice crystals stung the exposed skin of my hand, my
face. As the bulk of the slide tumbled away to one side, the deadly snow
rushing down on the camp slowed, swirled…and gradually came to a stop.

We were
safe.

I felt
light headed, as if I’d overexerted myself in this thin mountain air. I
stumbled to my feet, nearly fell, then regained my balance. There came shouts
of alarm, and a shocked cry behind me. Pulling my mitten back onto my right
hand, I turned to see who had helped me save the camp.

Nicholas
Turner stood there, his mouth pressed into a line of annoyance. Behind him, the
guides had drawn up around Christine, Griffin, Iskander, and Scarrow. Most of
them now held guns in their hands, some of which were turned on me.

“Well,”
Turner said. “I suppose we’ll have to deviate from the original plan.”

Griffin

Shock
stole the moisture from my mouth. I swallowed hard, trying to understand what
was happening. Turner a sorcerer, the guides apparently in his employ, and
Jack…

Jack
stood off to one side, looking miserable. No one pointed any guns at him.

“J-Jack?”
I asked. Because there had to be some mistake.

“What
the devil are you about, man!” Christine shouted at Turner.

Turner
smiled slightly, but his gaze went to Whyborne instead of Christine. “The same
thing you’re about,” he said coolly. “You came here to find the umbra and make
it your servant.”

“My
what?”
Whyborne’s face went deathly white. His gaze flicked from the guides, to me, to
Christine. No doubt he was considering what sorcerous options he might have.

But
Whyborne was only one man. If he lit the powder in one gun with the fire of his
mind, the other guards would surely shoot. They’d fell either him or one of us.

“No need
to play the fool, Dr. Whyborne.” Turner laughed, an ugly sound with little in
it of humor. “Do you seriously imagine we don’t know everything about you? Your
power, your heritage?” He shook his head. “It was Jack here who came up with
the idea of sending the fragment to Mr. Flaherty. A little bait to draw you
here. And you swallowed it instantly.”

No. No,
it wasn’t true. I cast a pleading glance at Jack, and to my surprise, he met my
gaze. His lips parted, and I waited for him to deny it. To say Turner lied in
order to drive a wedge between us for some obscure reason of his own.

“Tell
them to stop pointing guns at my brother,” he said instead. “Please, Nicholas.
There’s no need.”

“There’s
every need,” Turner replied mildly. “It’s keeping Dr. Whyborne from killing us
all, for one thing.”

Jack
shook his head. “No. You said th-things like him don’t have friends. You said—”

“Your
brother and Dr. Whyborne aren’t
friends,”
Turner said, disgust lacing
the words. “They’re lovers. If one would call a man who’d lie down with a
hybrid abomination such a thing.”

My fists
curled within my mittens. All the time I’d spent worrying about Jack finding
out about us, about me. It seemed so
stupid
now, so utterly
inconsequential in the face of this betrayal.

“Damn
you to hell,” Christine said conversationally, and followed up with what I
assumed was some foul curse in Arabic.

“Shut
up, bitch,” snarled the guide nearest her. “Spread your legs for some dirty
Arab, will you? Maybe we ought to show you what a white man’s like, huh?”

“Touch
her and die,” Iskander said. He looked utterly wild, his dark eyes wide and his
lips pulled back from his teeth.

“Silence.”
Turner’s voice cracked like a whip. “There’s no need for that sort of talk from
anyone. After all, we still want Dr. Whyborne to cooperate, don’t we?”

“Cooperate?”
Whyborne stared at Turner as though the man were deranged. “You’ve threatened
those I care about and called me an abomination. Why the devil would I
cooperate with you?”

“I’d
think it obvious.” Turner gestured to us. “How many of my men do you think you
can kill before one of the survivors puts a bullet through Mr. Flaherty’s head?
Or dear Dr. Putnam’s?”

Jack
swayed. “Nicholas—”

“Be
quiet, Jack.” Turner shot him an angry glare, then glanced at Scarrow. “I’m
sorry you got caught up in this, Reverend.”

Scarrow
looked about worriedly. “I…I don’t know what’s happening, exactly,” he said,
voice trembling. “But please, I beg you. Violence never solved anything.”

“Violence
solves problems all the time,” Turner corrected him. “It secured this continent
for the white man. It allows England to rule the waves. It brought the southern
states into line, and pours money into the coffers of men rich enough to hire
armies of Pinkertons to break up strikes. If I remember my history correctly,
most of Europe was converted to your religion by use of the sword, was it not? Violence
solves a great deal, actually.”

“What do
you want?” Whyborne’s voice was steady, but cold as the glacier beneath us. He’d
drawn himself up to his full height, sneering down at Turner, his face a pale
mask.

“As I
said, the same as you.”

“You’re
wrong.” Whyborne’s lip twisted slightly. I knew he must be frightened, but it
didn’t show on his face or in his manner. “We came here to make certain the
umbra, whatever it may be, doesn’t emerge from its sealed prison.”

Turner’s
brows arched. “Then you’re a greater fool than I ever realized.” He laughed
suddenly. “The terrible and powerful sorcerer turns out to be nothing but a
puffed up milksop. I’m almost disappointed. Still, it makes things far easier
for me.”

“Get on
with it, man,” Christine snapped. “Or do you love the sound of your voice so
much?”

Turner’s
face flushed with anger. “Speak again, and I’ll cut out your tongue. Dr.
Whyborne clearly lacks the backbone to stop me.”

Whyborne’s
face had gone utterly expressionless. Someone who didn’t know him well might
have mistaken it for acquiescence rather than extreme anger. Wind whispered
over the glacier, and a little swirl of ice spiraled up.

Turner
didn’t have the slightest idea how much danger he was really in. If he didn’t
have us as hostages…

But he
did. Damn it.

“Tell me
what you want,” Whyborne said, and his breath turned to ice crystals and fell
to the ground with a soft whisper before him.

“Your
assistance, of course.” Turner gestured to us. “Mr. Flaherty, Mr. Barnett, and
Reverend Scarrow will remain here under the watchful care of some of my men.
Should I fail to return in a reasonable amount of time, they will all be
executed.”

“Nicholas,
no!” Jack protested.

“You’re
turning out to be a disappointment, Jack,” Turner said, although he didn’t take
his gaze off Whyborne. “I thought you willing to do whatever is necessary. No
matter.” He pointed at Christine. “Dr. Putnam and Dr. Whyborne will accompany
us back to the city. Not only might her archaeological knowledge come in handy,
but she’ll prove a useful hostage in case Dr. Whyborne develops any ideas about
escape. Together, we’ll all go down into the city and find what we both came
here to look for. With the seals weakened, it will be child’s play to remove a
chrysalis.”

A
chrysalis? What the devil did the man mean?

“And
then what?” Whyborne asked.

“If you
cooperate, I’ll let you go,” Turner said with a greasy smile. “You and Dr.
Putnam can walk out through the glacial cave at your own pace. There’s a Tagish
village only a few days from here. If the weather holds, you may even make it
there with all your fingers and toes still intact.”

“And
Griffin and the others?” Whyborne asked.

“We’ll
leave them here—without any weapons or dogs, of course, but unharmed. Do
we have an agreement?”

I wanted
to shout at Whyborne, tell him not to agree. Turner would never let any of us
go. He meant murder and nothing but.

If I
did, though, and if Whyborne listened to me and refused, we’d all die now. As
long as we lived there remained some hope, however slim, of surviving this.

No doubt
Whyborne came to the same conclusion. He glanced at me, and our eyes met. I
tried to put all the love I had for him into my gaze, to tell him silently I
was sorry. I’d been the one to lead him into this trap even if I hadn’t meant
to.

He
looked away, and I didn’t know if I’d succeeded. Or if he already knew it all
anyway. “Very well,” he told Turner. “I accept your terms.”