Dawncaller

by David Rice

  Cinn nodded. “People in groups can become very stuck on rules.”

  “And the loremaster was going to kill the sailors who brought us here so they wouldn’t expose the Isles to anyone—even though the Isles are empty now?”

  Cinn nodded again. “Like I said.”

  “I’m glad I wasn’t born here,” Kirsten grumbled. “Glad we were able to talk the loremaster into letting them go.”

  “Your sword is rather persuasive,” Cinn replied. “But don’t get too cocky. Our real dangers have just started.”

  Kirsten scowled. “Xlaesin? Don’t we just follow the strands of the weave until they all collect together?”

  “No one’s ever done this, Kirsten. We have to be prepared for anything.”

  Kirsten sighed. “Tell me about that other land our people sailed off to find. Loremaster Lian didn’t want to say much.”

  Cinn shrugged. “The earliest writings of the Xa’lia—the ones everyone ignores or forgets—mentions a land the One created that was somewhere the drakes could not reach.

  That’s all I know.”

  Kirsten looked across the water towards the western horizon. “A whole other world. Without drakes? Sounds too good to be true.”

  Cinn nodded. “Hope is a powerful current. And our people are happiest when they’re on the waves. Just like Galen leading Longwood’s survivors to the mountains, they still have a home so long as they’re together. The advantage for our people is they might get tired of wandering and they’ll be able to come back here. I don’t think that’s a possibility anymore for

  Longwood.”

  Kirsten looked towards Grumm and Olaf who were struggling to maintain their balance upon the tight leather floors between the hulls.

  “The water is everywhere,” Olaf grumbled.

  “And what I’d do for a drink,” Grumm cursed.

  The two collapsed beside Kirsten and tried to get comfortable.

  “Ready yourselves,” Cinn said. “These boats are fast.”

  Kirsten allowed a brief smile, and soon their catamaran was pulling away from its dock on the far side of the island, its many sails gripping the wind like teeth.

  ***

  Its decks now covered in nets full of fruits, and baskets full of berries, Engram eased through the last of the fog and odered his helmsman to turn north.

  “Captain? Are you sure? North?”

  Engram smiled. He’d been given a quick tour of the one remaining elven boat and Cinn had told him where they were heading. “Of course, North. When you’re a member of my crew, you go places no one’s been before, ye hear? And ye’ll like it!”

  The helmsman tried to wear a brave smirk.

  XI

  A fortnight of sailing through rough dark waters brought Kirsten and her companions to a world they had never imagined. They donned wollen shirts and furs to stay warm and dry.

  Strange animals larger than their boat, some larger than any ship, swam below the surface. Sometimes they would drift alongside and blow geysers of water into the air or regard them with a black eye. Sometimes they would jump from the water and come crashing down. As the temperature cooled, those blasts became mists of ice. Ice began to build up on their boat, and Cinn insisted that it be broken off or else the weight would sink them.

  As they continued northward, massive chunks of floating ice dazzled their eyes in the sun or emerged from the mists of the like ghostly islands. Eventually, there seemed to be as much ice as ocean, and Cinn shivered constantly with tense exhaustion.

  Behind them, its sails a steadfast dot cresting the horizon when the visibility allowed, was The Evalyn. Kirsten didn’t know why Engram had decided to follow, and she didn’t spend much time worrying about such matters when the increasing cold, the lack of drinkable water, and her Papa’s dwindling condition dominated her thoughts.

  Would they even find Xlaesin? She assumed that if there was anything that could bring her to her mother, it would be the pendant. Even now, it seemed to guide her with its fluctuating warmth. She told Cinn of each change and he stoically adjusted course.

  When the first black cliffs appeared, Kirsten hoped that they were not even larger and more fearsome water beasts. No, Cinn, assured her, they were islands of rock that were slowly collapsing into the sea. Atop these islands were slabs of snow that never melted and rivers of ice a league wide, sundered with countless rifts and fractures, creeping towards the ocean.

  Everything is slow in the north, Cinn said, even death.

  Was that why the One chose to sleep here, Kirsten wondered.

  The next morning, the breeze failed and, after some nervous contemplation, Cinn broke out oars. Olaf and Grumm did their best to keep the boat moving in a straight line.

  “Which way?” he asked.

  Kirsten touched her pendant and cried out. It was uncomfortably hot. “The weave is affecting my pendant. I think we’re close,” she whispered.

  “I hope so,” Cinn replied. “We don’t have the supplies for more than another day. Then we’ll have to turn around.”

  “I’m not leaving before I find my mother,” Kirsten said.

  “Suit yourself,” Cinn said. “But you won’t be doing your Papa any good if he starves. He’s already in worse shape than when we left Longwood.”

  Kirsten reluctantly agreed.

  Their boat was rapidly approached a towering cliff of ice that offered no passage.

  “There’s no spot to make landfall,” Cinn stated. “Are you sure the pendant is guiding you correctly?”

  Kirsten grasped the pendant firmly and let its heat scald her hand. “I’m sure it’s close,” she said through gritted teeth. She took her hand away and was amazed to see that she had not been burned.

  “Okay,” Cinn replied. “If you say so.”

  Olaf and Grumm pulled their oars through the slurry of ice near the wall and continued their progress.

  Peering ahead, Cinn could make out a section of dappled light and shadow. As the boat advanced, a curving passage revealed itself that led under the ice. The cave seemed subtly lit from within.

  Everyone looked towards Kirsten.

  “It’s barely wide enough,” Cinn stated.

  “We’re not going in there,” Grumm added. “Are we?”

  Olaf grumbled. “We sure can’t swim. We’d freeze to death in that water.”

  “This is it,” Kirsten said, her jaw tight. “If we can fit, that’s where we need to go.” Cinn frowned but nodded to Olaf and Grumm. “Go ahead.”

  Kirsten leaned over Muren and whispered. “We’re here, Papa. We’ll find mother, and we’ll find a way to heal you, too.” Then Kirsten chuckled unexpectedly.

  “You’re laughing?” Cinn glanced at Kirsten. “I’m really uneasy being here, Kirsten. It’s against every tenet I’ve been taught.”

  Kirsten sighed. “Just remembering something Rybaki said. That we might as well go to Xlaesin and ask the One about how to stop the drakes. Eko suggested the same idea. He said that we might as well wake the One.”

  Cinn’s eyes narrowed. “She was joking, and Eko is mad.”

  Kirsten shrugged. “Well, we’re here. Maybe we’re mad, too.”

  The boat passed under the roof of ice and entered a shadowy cave illuminated by cracks of clear ice allowing light from far above. As they moved through the water, a green luminescence glowed wherever the water was disturbed, clung to the oars and hull, and filled their wake.

  “It’s beautiful,” Kirsten exclaimed.

  “It’s out of the wind, at least,” Grumm added.

  Cinn pointed to a ledge rising from the water’s edge. “There. A place to land.” Beyond it was a tunnel that seemed carved from crystal itself, and it was filled with muted light.

  “I wonder,” Kirsten mumbled, and pulled the Fahde from its sheath. Instantly, the cavern was ablaze in white light so powerful that she had to put the sword away. Tiny lights danced through everyone’s vision for many moments afterwards.

  “Some warnin
g next time?” Grumm complained.

  The boat grated upon the icy ledge. Cinn was the first to test the shelf. He clambered out of the boat, carefully hammered pitons into the ice, and tied it off. Then he offered his hand to

  Kirsten. “It’s not as slippery as I expected. But mind your step anyway.”

  Kirsten stepped out of the boat and stretched. She looked back at Grumm and Olaf. “Coming?”

  With uncertain glances and growing scowls, the two companions joined Kirsten and Cinn on the ledge.

  “This is as far as I will go,” Cinn stated firmly. “Only those who are called are supposed to be here. I will wait for you.”

  Olaf attempted to scramble back into the boat but Grumm grabbed him by the arm. “Yer going with us, lad. I can’t carry Kirsten’s Papa on my own.” “Are you sure you want to drag him in there?” Cinn asked.

  “It’s the only way,” she insisted.

  Cinn helped to rig a hammock for Muren that wrapped around the shoulders of Olaf and Grumm.

  “If you fall down,” Grumm said. “We all go down.’

  Olaf grimaced. “Since when did I ever fall down?”

  “Oh, ho!” Grumm laughed. “The knock to yer head when we went in for the sword made ye forget?”

  Olaf huffed. “Fine. I won’t fall down this time. And we both fell, by the way.” “You fell first.”

  Kirsten turned to face her companions. “Are you done?” Without waiting for an answer, she entered the tunnel.

  “Hurry up,” Olaf said. “Or we’ll lose her.”

  “Lose her?” Grumm chuckled darkly. “It looks like there’s only one tunnel.” Grumm took a few rapid steps forward that almost yanked Olaf to his knees. Cursing and grumbling with Muren’s frail body rocking between them, the dwarf and the gnome forged ahead.

  The tunnel was narrow, twisting, and uneven. It was shot through with shafts of crystal light, and split with dark open seams that grabbed at clothes and feet. With every turn, it continued down, and the light gradually faded to grey.

  As the light dwindled, Kirsten drew her sword slowly. The Fahde’s gem filled the tunnel with brilliance, and its light shot through the crystal webs of the tunnels until the entire ice structure glowed. As they continued their careful pace, the light within the ice began to shift and add its own colours, transforming slowly from diffuse blurs to ghostly images.

  Wide-eyed Olaf stared at the wall beside him. “Can you see that?” his voice quaked.

  Grumm looked over and shuddered. “It’s like looking at the Highgate of Thunderwall after too much drinkin’,” he exclaimed. “But I see a buncha shapes moving past it, an’ they don’t look like dwarves. Oh, if that’s Thunderwall,” he moaned, “why am I here?”

  “No,” Olaf countered. “Are you blind? It’s Halnn. And it’s burning. There’s a drake above it and it’s burning Halnn to the ground.” Olaf stopped moving and sunk to his knees, almost dropping Muren roughly to the ice. “What have I done?” he cried out. “the blue gem in your shield. I took that gem, and it was going to save them—save them from the drakes.”

  Kirsten spun around to face her friends. Her eyes pierced the depths of the ice, and their shifting colours. “I don’t see anything,” she stated. “I don’t know what you’re talking—”

  Then she stopped. There it was. A vision. The top of her Papa’s tower, all aflame. And Raisha being shot by the crossbow bolt then transforming into a shimmering ember. She was urging Kirsten to jump. And she was smiling.

  A red-hot explosion flashed through the tunnel that made Kirsten cover her eyes and she threw herself to the icy floor. Her pendant radiated heat even through her leather jerkin.

  “Whatcha do that for?” Grumm blurted. “It’s gonna be okay.”

  Kirsten pulled herself back to her feet. “You didn’t feel that explosion?”

  Grumm shrugged. “Noooo,” he said. “All I saw was Thiunderwall.”

  “But—,” Kirsten stammered. The explosion had happened. Many cycles ago. And now it had happened again in her mind. Shaking with uncertainty, she stuck her jaw forward and held her free hand towards Grumm.

  “Unwrap your shield,” she said. “Let me carry it for awhile.”

  “Are ye sure?” Grumm asked even though he knew what her answer would be.

  Kirsten accepted the shield and as its blue gem began to glow, it mellowed the light of the Fahde and, in their combined radiance, the images surrounding them all faded.

  “Look, Olaf,” she said to the quivering gnome. “The visions in the ice. They’re gone now. It’s okay.”

  Olaf looked up, his face streaked with tears and his eyes bloodshot. “Gone?” he said. “From the walls, maybe. That’s all. But I can’t get them out of my head.”

  Kirsten looked carefully at her Papa. Muren had somehow managed to squirm onto his side, and he had an arm twisted over his eyes. “Papa?” she said as she moved his arm gently.

  “Are you awake? Are you with us?”

  His glassy eyes were wide and his mouth, caked with drool and lined with rotting teeth, was frozen in the shape of an O.

  Kirsten pushed away tears and put his exposed arm under the furs. Then she did her best to close his eyes and mouth, stroked his face, and pushed some more fur under his head. “Please, Papa. Come back,” her voice shook. “Come back to me.”

  Muren’s eyes flickered briefly and Kirsten crouched instantly. “Papa? Papa! It’s Kirsten. We’re here. You’re going to be safe now. Muren let out a long sigh. The slightest vibrations slipped past his dried lips. “The One. The One. Wake.” His body quivered once then relaxed.

  “Oh, that’s not good,” Grumm mumbled.

  “He said something like he was trying to wake up,” Kirsten stated. Then she checked for a pulse. He was still alive. She glared at Grumm and then turned her eyes towards Olaf. “Stand up, Olaf. We need you.”

  Olaf nodded and helped to carry Muren. Once more they returned to their downward spiral.

  Avoiding a few stray rivulets of water trickling from the walls, the party escaped the confines of the tunnel to emerge into a massive cavern filled with clusters of crystal stalactites and stalagmites, many that were joined tenuously in their middle. The entire cavern sparkled with soft light and hummed with latent energy.

  Kirsten looked around and gasped. “I dreamt about this,” she whispered. “A long time ago.”

  Olaf rubbed his eyes and pointed at the nearest columns of crystal. “Are we seeing the same thing this time? I think there’s people trapped in the ice.”

  Grumm followed Olaf’s suggestion and stared hard at the distant columns. “Oh, no. Yer right,” his voice shivered. “I am seeing what yer seein’. Something’s trapped in there. Not sure if they’re people.”

  Kirsten stared wide eyed. There were thousands of columns, some thick with age and some still forming like macabre chrysalids. “We need to look around,” she said. “Follow me,” she demanded, and she began to weave between the columns, peering at the voiceless flickering shapes inside. “Eko said this is where the One sleeps—” and her voice fell away in awe as she

  spoke.

  “The One’s really asleep?” Olaf whispered. “Why?”

  It took several calming breaths to find her voice again. “Eko said it was to trap the drakes the first time they were wakened. But they’re awake once more—”

  “Oh, no.” Grumm’s voice, although not a shout, still boomed in the silence of the hall, triggering vibrations throughout the ice like distant bells. “We’re not here to disturb the One, are we?”

  Kirsten frowned. “We’re here to find my mother,” Kirsten hissed. “Keep looking.”

  “Well, what’s she look like?” Grumm asked.

  Kirsten twisted with frustration. “I don’t know! Hair like mine, I guess?”

  They continued through the cavern as quietly as possible, Kirsten swinging the light of the Fahde and the shield like beacons from pillar to pillar, and Muren rocking gently between the shoulders of Olaf
and Grumm.

  Images began to appear in the ice of the ceiling, the walls, and the floor. They were blurred and subdued, streaks of motion and colour, and then they faded like clouds. One image kept reappearing and each time it seemed a little sharper until Kirsten flinched with recognition.

  It was an image of Eko. He was standing atop a sand dune, his fists grasping glowing amber, and drakes were circling above.

  “I’m seeing something in the ice. He’s going to summon the drakes and the dragon,” Kirsten exclaimed suddenly.

  “Who? Where?” Grumm called out.

  “Eko. Somewhere in the Topaz Sea. Where Raisha was from. That’s where we have to go next. We have to stop him.”