After ten minutes or so of descending into the mountain the tunnel formed a Y intersection, with one of the passages heading back upwards, and the other continuing to go down. Alam and Tajar followed the downward passage. As they jogged along they encountered nothing other than occasional gusts of wind that threatened to extinguish their remaining torch.

"Alam, look," said Tajar after what felt like a half an hour had passed. "There's light ahead."

A blue glow in front of them bounced faintly on the rough granite walls. Alam and Tajar stopped moving and listened.

Nothing. All was silent.

"The torch?" asked Tajar.

"Let's leave it lit. We may need it for a quick retreat."

"There is no 'quick retreat'. If we need to escape we are in trouble."

Alam knew Tajar was right. They pressed forward, but with senses alert for any sign of danger. The blue light ahead became stronger. It had a cool feel to it. When they were ten paces away from the end of the passage they could tell that the blue light was coming from some kind of chamber.

We're going to reach it!

They pushed forward to the end of the passage. The tunnel entered a circular chamber at the height of six men above the floor. Looking down, they both gaped silently in wonder. In the centre of the chamber below them was a large piece of raw, unshaped, angular ice with someone frozen inside it.

"Could that be her inside?" asked Alam.

"If it is she's been dead a long time," answered Tajar.

The ice was suspended off the ground. Four thick chains were embedded near the top of it. The chains radiated out and were connected to the walls high above, thus raising the ice off the ground. Around the chamber strange symbols were etched deeply into the wall. Other than the blue ice, the chamber was completely empty. A narrow staircase carved into the wall of the chamber circled upwards into darkness. The blue glow radiating from the ice faintly illumined the ceiling above them, and showed that the staircase led to another, larger, chamber that looked down upon them.

"We made it!" Tajar clapped Alam on the back.

"And we were faster than the sorcerer and warriors," smiled Alam.

"Now we just need to get down without breaking our necks." Tajar knelt down and careful examined of the passage they stood in. He found some cracks in the stone floor.

"This one will do," said Tajar kneeling beside a crack that was a little wider and deeper than the others.

"Will do for what?"

"Watch and learn."

Tajar pulled out his hunting knife and forcefully blunted its edge on the lip of the passage by rubbing it back and forth. He then took Alam's axe, and using the flat of its blade as a hammer, carefully pounded it into the crack. He then tied his last length of rope around its handle and crossguard and tossed the free end into the chamber.

"Is that going to hold?" Alam asked skeptically.

"Do you want to find out? After all, you said you would rather die than see me die," Tajar smiled.

"I'm not sure anymore," Alam replied. He dropped the torch down into the room below and picked up the rope. He carefully lowered himself down. The rope and knife held. In moments Alam had reached the floor. Tajar then wrapped the rope around his leg and descended into the chamber.

***

Gretch lay on his belly and cautiously slithered to the lip of the passage. With the patience of a snake he peeked over the edge.

***

Alam and Tajar excitedly peered inside the blue glowing ice.

"She's much younger than I was expecting!" Alam marveled. "She looks slightly younger than us."

"The priests told us she was something like thirty-five or forty years old when captured." said Tajar. "Mind you, it's hard to get a good impression of her through the ice."

Although the jagged angles of ice distorted her image, what they could see was that she had a look of serene death; her eyes were closed; her hands crossed against her chest. Her long, medium brown hair was plaited and hung over the shoulder of a pine green, ankle length dress.

Alam's heart sunk as he looked at her pale, lifeless face.

She's dead.

We've come all this way, and she's dead.

"She's dead," whispered Tajar.

"I can see that. Maybe this isn't Clarisai," said Alam in disappointment. "Let's see what this box does now." He had carried it so long and with such devastating results on his life that it seemed surreal that he might finally be done with it. He reached into his tunic.

As his hand closed around it his mind was again transported. It was dazzlingly bright. The sudden change from the dark chamber was blinding. Yet again he was seeing through the baby's eyes, and yet again it was crying. As he adjusted to the colourless world he could see that the child was completely alone. Long grass, swaying in the wind surrounded and towered over the baby. The grass and the clear sky overhead were the only things visible. The infant howled for the woman, but she did not come. Suddenly two faces appeared and looked down on the child. They were talking, but the baby could not understand them. Although the baby did not recognise them, Alam did. One was Tajar's father, younger than Alam had remembered him. The other was a young Serik. He had more hair and fewer wrinkles, but it was without doubt the scoutmaster. The two men began arguing. Serik was shaking his head and pointing one way while Tajar's father pointed the other. Serik frowned, turned and departed. Tajar's father reached down smiling, picked up the baby, and tenderly placed it inside his vest.

The vision disappeared into bright, all-pervasive white light.

"Who are you?" said a young female voice in Alam's head. It was a pleasant voice, curious and soft.

I am Alam.

"Why do you show me the visions of the infant?"

I thought the box was showing me. Can you see them too?

"Yes. Who is the child?" she asked.

It is me, or it was me some twenty years ago. Who are you?

"I was once called Clarisai, but that was many years ago. Who are you?

My name is Alam.

Are you important to me?"

I don't know.

Suddenly the brightness was gone and Alam was back in front of the shard of ice.

"Alam, are you alright?" Tajar ask with concern.

"She's alive. She just spoke to my mind."

Tajar stared at the ice in wonder.

"And I had another vision. I am the baby. And I saw your father."

"My father?"

"Yes. It was he who picked me up and took me to the clan. I owe him my life. Without your father I would be dead." Alam deliberately did not mention that Serik did not seem to want the baby to be saved.

Without prompting, a lid line appeared on the smooth black wood of the box in Alam's hand. He carefully pried it open. Inside, resting on green velvet, lay a rose. Its form was perfect. Despite the months of travel it looked as if it had been cut from the bush only seconds earlier. Even in the dim blue light Alam could tell its colour was a deep, rich red. Alam carefully lifted it from its box and held it to the ice. Nothing happened. He reached out and laid his palm on the ice.

"It isn't cold," he said.

Tajar followed his example. "That's strange."

"It might be my imagination, but it seems not to be wet either."

"If it's not ice what is it?"

"You keep asking questions that you know I can't answer," smiled Alam.

"I will tell you what I think it is," said Tajar. "Some type of magical force. Let's see if it breaks." He pulled out his short sword eagerly.

"I like your thinking. We may not know anything about magic, but we do know how to hit things!"

"Who needs intelligence when you have a big axe?"

"My thoughts exactly," agreed Alam.

***

Emerek dismounted his horse at the foot of a short flight of broad stairs carved into the very rock of the mountain. They led to a set of iron bound wooden double doors. After traveling for days with no sign of human civilisation, coming across the doors felt jarring and unfitting to Xantia.

"This is it?" she asked. "All this secrecy and the entrance turns out to be this obvious?"

"No one has been here since these doors were sealed many years ago," Emerek replied. "It is impossible. The fear curse would turn away any sane person and, as you saw with your own eyes, would kill any who were not turned away."

He reached the door and inspected the hinges. They were brown with rust.

"Alas, the curse does not keep out the weather. Noldorae, it is time to prove your worth. Open these doors."

"As you wish, Lord," said the big man with a dip of his head.

Noldorae limbered up his powerful arms and set to work. His large mace rose and fell, rose and fell. A crack appeared gradually. The wood was thick and strong, but slowly it gave way. When a large enough hole had been made the five of them squeezed into the tunnel beyond. A thick smell of mould and mildew greeted them. Drander quickly lit and distributed torches among the party. The yellow flickering light exposed a tunnel that headed straight into the mountain. It was roughly carved, and wide enough for them to walk three abreast. Emerek lifted his torch above his head and eagerly stepped forward.

"Time to kill a princess."

-----------------------

Chapter 30 is the final chapter! Thank you for your support.

-Y. V. Qualls