Angel of Storms (Millennium's Rule, #2)(56)

The market shrank behind Tyen as he crossed a patchwork of cultivated land watered via a network of aqueducts. He skimmed over a city. Beyond it he could see the shadow of distant mountains. He had crossed countless paths forged by passing sorcerers so, guessing the whole world was like this, he started to follow them to hide his trail, zigzagging towards the peaks.

Hills swelled and were replaced by ridges and valleys. Snow dusted the ground. Finally he reached a great cliff and, rising to the top, found a plateau of ice pierced here and there by the mountains’ peaks. His path crossed one freshly used path, and he changed course to follow it, skimming down to one of the many smaller crags.

It led to a dark opening in the rock. As he arrived at the base of this he instantly regretted not emerging into the world again sooner. The air he sucked into his starved lungs was bitingly cold and made him cough. Drawing in magic, he created a barrier of stilled air around his body and warmed it.

Once recovered he approached the opening. Creating a spark, he saw an icy floor descending steeply. Stairs had been carved into one side, while the flat area was marked with long gouges. Keeping his barrier strong enough to protect him from an attack, he slowly walked down the stairs. The passage soon levelled and widened to form a cave. It was empty but for a row of sleds. No harness was attached to these, so he guessed they were either pushed by hand or propelled by magic.

It was unlikely the rebels would leave paths in the space between that led straight to their lair, so there must be a leg of the journey that involved non-world-travelling forms of transportation. The sleds might be it.

But if he was in the wrong place he could be taking sleds from locals who needed them. He looked around the cave but found no clues as to their owners. Emerging from the cave again, he considered the surrounding landscape. No tracks in the snow led away from the entrance. If he took a sled, where should he go? Though he suspected that nobody was close enough for him to find and read their mind, he tried anyway.

And immediately sensed someone behind him.

Spinning around, he faced the cave just in time to see a young man dressed in a padded coat emerge. The man frowned and looked him up and down.

“What’re you here for?” he asked.

“I’m looking for Yira Oni of Roihe,” Tyen said. “She left a message that led me here.”

A smile broke out on the stranger’s face. “Which one are you?”

“Tyen. Tyen Ironsmelter.”

“Ah! Tyen. We’ve heard a lot about you. Come in. I’m on my way out, but I can send you on your way. It’s a bit of a trip, but you can travel fast when you’ve got the knack of it. I’m Brev, by the way.”

The man walked back down the stairs. As Tyen followed he saw that another sled now sat alongside the others. The man steered it towards the back wall. To Tyen’s surprise, and chagrin for not having noticed, there was a fold in the rock that concealed a tunnel. The floor and walls of this were ice, smooth except where the blades of sleds had carved lines into it. The spark of light Brev had created did not penetrate far into the tunnel.

Brev waved at the darkness.

“Take it slow the first time. There are sharp turns. Look for grooves in the walls; they indicate when a turn is coming up.” He pointed at the seat. “Sit and push against the walls. Not too hard to begin with, or you’ll squish your descendants.”

“Thanks,” Tyen offered.

Brev shrugged and turned way. “See you soon,” he called back.

Creating a flame, Tyen sent it ahead. The shadows shrank away from it. He climbed onto the sled, gathered magic, and pushed against the walls and ceiling. His buttocks were pressed hard against the seat, the force transferring into the sled through his groin, and suddenly Brev’s warning made sense. Descendants. Right. But the pressure receded once the blades began skimming over the ice.

Bracing his feet, he gathered more magic, and propelled himself into the receding darkness.





CHAPTER 5





A long while later a light appeared ahead, setting the ice walls glittering, Tyen thought he was approaching the end of the tunnel and slowed, but it turned out to be a pair of ordinary oil lamps. Another young sorcerer stepped out of an alcove and warily asked for his name. Once Tyen gave it, the man relaxed and told him to continue on–but not too fast and to watch out for the bridge.

He searched the darkness ahead for any change in the icy walls. A bridge must span something. Would it be an underground river? He listened for sounds beyond the scrape of the sled runners, but heard nothing. Then the walls ahead abruptly turned black.

He slowed and approached cautiously. The tunnel widened; sleds had been left against one wall. The walls beyond were not black, but a dark void extending up, down and to either side. He brightened his flame and sent it out. It illuminated a great crack in the ice sheet the tunnel burrowed through. His light did not penetrate to the bottom of the chasm–or the top–and the crack curved away to either side, so he could not see how far it extended.

A bridge spanned the gap. Its beams were buried deep in the chasm walls on either side, forming two halves of an arch. They extended towards each other but did not meet in the middle. Perhaps they had aligned in the past, perhaps the ice walls had shifted before the bridge was finished, perhaps the builders had been incompetent. It did not matter. The gap had been patched with a new section, set at an angle and creating a kink in the span.