by Clark Bolton
“A door, I think!” Ich-Mek exclaimed as he felt for the crack with his mittens.
He felt nothing, and when he tried with his mittens off, he still couldn’t feel anything. Tass then tried, but found nothing as well. Still the glow remained, and ran up from the rock at their feet to a point just above their heads.
Click!
The unlock cantrip worked, much to Ich-Mek’s surprise. He could now get his fingers into the crack, and with Tass’s help they swung an ingeniously mounted stone door open.
“This isn’t a yeti, is it?” Ich-Mek asked in a hushed voice as he looked into the cave beyond.
“Not so clever,” Tass replied.
The small cave was lined with strange items, including long shields and bunches of arrows. Masks and headdresses were attached to the walls, and several torch sconces hung near what looked like a door, though none were lit. Ich-Mek could tell, from the active cantrips still on him, that the door was not an ordinary one.
“I can’t open it,” Ich-Mek announced as he examined the enchantments on the door.
Meanwhile, Tass was quietly examining some of the items in the room. Picking up a bow, Tass tested it for weight then put it carefully back.
“Who would wear these?” Ich-Mek asked as came to stand near the headdresses.
“He who lives on top of a mountain,” Tass replied as he seemed to be giving it some thought.
Ich-Mek had never seen any illustration in any book that resembled the masks here, nor did he think they belonged to men. More strange runes were inscribed upon nearly everything here, and, except for a few of the arrows, none of them glowed. Wondering now what a yeti would look like, he searched around to see if there might be more food stashed here.
While he did this, Tass did his best to open the door, but failed. It was metal of some kind, and refused to budge at all. Eventually they sat down to rest.
By midday it seemed clear that no one was coming to open the door. They decided to eat only a little more of the mushrooms, fearful now of starving again.
Ich-Mek dozed off several times as he sat across from the metal door, then decided it was foolish to do so. Pacing around instead, he did his best to think of what other mages might do.
“They cast magic,” he said aloud to himself. “I should be…known to them!”
“You are the dragon-mage,” Tass replied in a low tone.
Ich-Mek was tired of hearing him say that. He still couldn’t figure out how to take it.
“I’m going to knock on the door!” he announced as he stared at it.
Tass didn’t say anything, but instead just glared at him. It made Ich-Mek think it was maybe the right thing to do. The other choices seemed to be return the way they had come to face starvation in the snow, or stay here and starve, or perhaps be attacked by surprise once sleep overcame them.
“I am the dragon-mage!” he yelled as he began banging on the door.
He did this several times until the echoes became alarming. The thought now of someone actually answering was frightening.
CLAP!
He sent the energy of a clap cantrip through the door, in hopes it would be heard on the other side. It was a useless little spell, and he laughed a little at himself now for ever bothering to learn it.
“I am the dragon-mage!” he yelled again, before giving up.
__________________________
They were caught like foolish schoolboys hiding from their instructor. Half asleep, the both of them hardly moved before a half-dozen masked figures had surrounded them. With razor-sharp spears pressing into their throats, they sat motionless as everything they possessed was taken from them.
The masks the figures wore were like round, faceless spirits that had no mouths. They were silent, and efficient, and when Ich-Mek tried to whimper that they meant no harm, he was slammed in the head with the butt of a spear.
Dazed, he was easily rolled over and bound with hands behind his back, then cruelly yanked to his feet. They treated Tass the same way, and so in less than a minute they were dragged through the door, which clanged ominously as it was shut behind them.
They forced his head down whenever he looked about, so all he could see was the floor of the passageway they were taken down; it was like ice, and he found it difficult to stand on his own. All but one of his captors were barefoot, and as he looked at their feet he concluded they must be men like himself. The one not barefoot was smaller in stature, and had feet wrapped in what looked like leather. This last one carried most of his possessions, he was sure.
Their leader glowed with enchantments, making Ich-Mek conclude he was the source of the blue snow. He seemed the cruelest, and the most willing to strike him with little provocation.
Minutes passed as he was dragged across the icy floors of the caves they walked, and as he continued to catch glimpses of the smaller figure, he couldn’t help but notice her legs. They reminded him so much of Yi-La’s that he felt sure she must be a young woman.
He and Tass were eventually thrown down to the floor in a strange glittering cavern. What little of the walls he had dared to glance at seemed to be dark in color but then covered with crystal-clear ice. Everywhere was ice; it made him shiver despite the cold-resistance spell he had on him.
He now feared for his life, and could think of nothing but never having found his master, or his parents. A ray of hope then struck him when the leader forcefully spread his fingers; he was sure the man was looking at his ring.
Words in a strange melodic language then passed between the figure looking at his ring and some distant female voice. The woman sounded old, and like she was almost singing.
“You are a dragon-mage’s apprentice,” the woman proclaimed in the common language of Ibu-Jek.
It took a moment for Ich-Mek to realize that he could understand what she had said, and by then he had been prodded cruelly for not replying quickly. “The Mother speaks to you!” said the masked figure beside him.
“I am, my lady,” he sputtered. “I came here—”
“She is the Mother!” came a sharp rebuke, cutting off what he was going to say.
“Mother…I am…we are…lost.”
The woman seemed to then dismiss most of the figures around him, and now he was able to look toward her without fear of being hit. He was shocked, for she wasn’t old at all. The woman had impossibly long white hair an ageless face that he found beautiful somehow. Her voice didn’t seem to match her looks.
“Where is your master?” the Mother asked.
Ich-Mek closed his eyes and tried to think best what he should say. “I am searching for a master, Mother.”
The woman sang out oddly for a moment before saying, “No Owesek pay tribute here…not in ages. And now only an apprentice. Why does your emperor forget the past?”
Ich-Mek couldn’t think what she meant. “I was not sent by the Emperor, Mother.”
There was brief silence before the woman spoke again. “Who, then, sends you unbidden to the Cold-Mother?”
He was surprised she had used the same name for the peak as Tass, who he could no longer see. He began to suspect they had taken him away. Daring to turn and look behind him, he saw only the head guard.
“I came to help Tass, Mother. He…he is in need of a dragon-mage.”
“He led you here? Not a place I think he will find again.”
“No…we were lost…then came the blue snow. We followed the tracks to the door…Mother.”
“You are an apprentice,” she stated again. “Dragon-mages train apprentices poorly in this age.”
Ich-Mek got no chance to say more, before being dragged away. It was then that he saw that the head guard had removed his mask. His hair was as white as the Mother’s, and his eyes ice-blue as well. It was his ears that drew Ich-Mek’s attention most: they were the ears of a goblin, he was sure.
The guards deposited him in a ghostly white corridor, then as they left they closed the doors through which they had entered. All they had
said was for him to remain in the protected white corridors, which made little sense to Ich-Mek.
He waited breathlessly for a few minutes at the door, hoping Tass would come through it at any moment. Giving up, he then dared to explore the passageway. The white turned out to be due to a coating of ice once again, this time a milky-hued one; all surfaces were covered with it, and he kept slipping as he walked.
Turning a corner, he found himself looking at the small masked woman who had walked away with his spell-book. It was the only item he worried about retrieving.
“Are…you a Daughter?” Ich-Mek asked, thinking the title might fit.
The woman made no reply before then removing her mask. Her long hair fell down over her shoulders then, and he noticed it was streaked half white and half black, making her age seem confusing to him. She was squatting on a small ledge protruding from the roughhewn wall, and once again her bare legs made him conclude she was close in age to him.
She said nothing, and so he finally asked, “Is Tass here? The man I came with!”
The girl seemed to struggle with words as she said, “Man!”
Ich-Mek smiled weakly, and wondered if this was a question. “I am a dragon-mage,” he replied as he lifted his chin a little. “Can you tell me where…a…a…Tass is?”
He said this slowly and deliberately, wondering now if she was ignorant somehow. She looked at him oddly, turning her head until all of her hair flowed onto one shoulder. Then she bounded off out of sight around a corner.
“Wait!” he yelled out, before giving chase.
He slipped almost immediately, and fell painfully on his hip. Crawling slowly to his feet, he slipped and slid around several corners, passing multiple intersections as he did so. Giving up, he then tried to retrace his steps. Eventually he found the door again, and this time made sure it was locked.
“Stay in the white,” he mumbled to himself nervously as he began to methodically explore the confines of his prison.
Surprisingly, he eventually stumbled upon Tass, who was methodically chipping at a wall with a makeshift tool – one of the heels of his boots. He looked to have made progress.
“You are well?” Tass asked as he paused for a brief moment.
“Yes,” Ich-Mek replied, then wondered why this hole the man was making was so important; more important than him. “Why here?” he asked after watching for a few moments.
To Ich-Mek it looked like any other milky section of ice on the wall. Behind it, he assumed, was just rock, though he had seen odd shapes as he walked, suggesting things were buried under a layer of ice.
“There is a chamber here,” Tass replied as he paused to look Ich-Mek up and down. “You have something to dig with?”
“No!” Ich-Mek replied with annoyance in his voice. “Did you see the girl?”
“Spirits can be boys or girls,” Tass replied as he chipped at the ice.
“Not a spirit,” he assured the man, “and the ice is re-growing.”
Tass nodded his head in agreement with Ich-Mek’s observation, then went right back to his task. Ich-Mek shook his head, then noticed the girl watching them from a short distance away. She seemed able to appear and disappear easily.
“Do you see the spirit?” he asked sarcastically.
“It feeds on sight,” Tass whispered back.
Ich-Mek shook his head again, then looked to the girl with an apologetic smile. “Do you have something he can dig with?” he dared to ask.
The girl turned her head oddly again, which made Ich-Mek return the gesture in frustration. She then giggled at him.
“Funny…” Ich-Mek muttered, “…we’re starving…and you’re a spirit.”
The girl then stepped up between the two of them, and to their surprise kicked at the ice several times until the whole section of wall fell away as a single chunk. So big was the piece that Ich-Mek feared for his toes, and so jumped back. Tass quickly entered the hole after the girl stepped aside.
Ich-Mek could see now that Tass had been right. There was a chamber on the other side; it contained the first pieces of furniture that he had seen since being brought into the mountain. It also had two corpses in it.
Tass didn’t hesitate to start looking over the bodies, one of which was on a bench, frozen in a sitting position. The other was laid out against a wall. To Ich-Mek they looked dressed much like Tass was, and in fact looked about the same size as the man.
Ich-Mek flinched when Tass began struggling to remove things off the bodies, which produced eerie cracking sounds. The girl didn’t seem bothered by it.
“Man?” the girl said as she nodded toward the seated corpse.
“Yes...” Ich-Mek replied. “Boy!” he then said as he gestured to himself, then wondered why he was calling himself a boy – he was fifteen, after all.
The room had a firebox in it, and a type of chimney, which made Ich-Mek wonder why the man hadn’t burned the remaining pile of wood that was still in the room. He then noticed a frozen line of red ice along the prone man’s neck.
“Was he murdered?” Ich-Mek asked Tass, who by this point had found himself an ice-axe and a small amount of frozen rope.
“Yes,” Tass replied as he began examining a hole that had been chipped away high on the wall.
They could see that the men had worked at exposing parts of the chimney, but the shaft Ich-Mek could now see into was too small for any person to fit into. In despair the two must have killed each other, he concluded.
A small doorway led into a small second chamber, and it was here where the two had apparently slept. Blankets, and other climbing supplies, they found within; also a small amount of food, consisting mainly of dried meat that was hard to identify in its frozen state.
Tass told him to find a cup in which to thaw the meat, but the only one Ich-Mek could find was in the sitting man’s hand. His first attempt to remove it from the icy grip failed, and so he stepped back in disgust. The girl then stepped up and kicked the cup free with her heel, sending the cup bouncing about the room.
“Thank you,” Ich-Mek said as he retrieved the cup.
“Boy!” the girl said again.
“Is that all you can say?” Ich-Mek asked with a slight scowl as he searched around for some clean ice to put in the cup.
He was surprised when she let out a long litany of unintelligible words, in the same melodic language the Mother had first used. She was upset with him now, he could see. Likely his body language had insulted her somehow, he concluded.
“Sorry!” he said as he tried to give her a sincere smile.
She stopped talking and gave him a long frown. Then she slipped out the hole in the wall and was gone again.
Ich-Mek paused for a few moments to see if she was coming back, then began looking for good ice again. There was none in the room, which made him wonder if this had been a problem for the men. It would explain why they hadn’t eaten everything, he guessed.
“Block the hole,” Tass told him as he began laying out things he had found on a blanket.
“Why? She is helping us.”
“No!” Tass retorted. “Spirits only give truths so they can lie.”
“Thought only mountains could lie,” Ich-Mek grumbled as he sat down near the seated corpse and refused to help Tass in any way.
Chapter 17
The girl had brought them ice, which didn’t surprise Ich-Mek, but it did Tass. Ich-Mek then began to have short conversations with her, which mostly involved hand gestures. Eventually, she started bringing them mushrooms and other edible plants. These they cooked in the single tin cup they had. It kept their bellies satisfied as the days began to pass.
The girl began to watch Ich-Mek intently, particularly when he cast spells, which he was forced to do to stave off the cold. This encouraged him to try and get her to bring him his spell-book, but so far she didn’t seem to want to do that.
He and Tass had both tried to find another way out of the white corridors, and had managed to find a crevice leading dow
n to a passageway that looked brownish rather than white. The girl, however, would become very agitated whenever they hinted that they should all go down and take a look.
It was the one subject on which Tass seemed to give any credence to the girl, stating, “She sees death down there.”
“Spirits don’t die,” Ich-Mek had replied mockingly when Tass had said this, which earned him a quick slap to the arm by Tass. “Okay!” Ich-Mek said as he rubbed his arm.
The girl giggled at him afterwards, and would now sometimes poke him where Tass had bruised him. Ich-Mek sort of liked the attention, and so would give a mock-frown when she did it, which always produced giggles from her.
When Ich-Mek’s second audience with the Mother came, it was a complete surprise. They had all three come to believe that the Mother had forgotten about Ich-Mek and Tass. So, with a very long face, the girl, who had just recently told them her name was As-Cheen, walked behind Ich-Mek. They followed the lead guard, who she had referred to as Shu-Whet, and were taken through the doors that led from the white corridors. Tass was directed to stay behind.
Ich-Mek had tried to secretly cast a cantrip as they walked, and had been rebuffed sharply by Shu-Whet, who threatened to strike him with the butt of his spear once again. He was sure now that Shu-Whet was a mage of some kind. The successful cantrip confirmed this, as now Shu-Whet glowed with the telltale signs of enchantments.
The Mother awaited them in the same hall as before. The woman was alone, and for some reason Ich-Mek pictured her as always being this way.
“You have no master,” the Mother stated in her gravelly voice. “When will your emperor send for you?”
Ich-Mek tried hard to think how long it had been since he and Tass had been imprisoned. Tass thought it close to a moon, and as he stared at the Mother he realized it didn’t matter; no one was ever going to send for him. Maybe someday Yi-La would, he hoped, but he knew nothing to suggest this would ever truly happen.