The Bitter Kingdom

26

WE fall to our knees and shovel at the snow. It’s much softer here, and our gloved hands do the trick. Suddenly a chunk of snow breaks free and falls away, opening up a dark hole. We scramble back from the edge.

Waterfall says. “The snow is so deep that we’re at the top of the entrance.”

We work at the edges, opening up the hole and packing the snow down until Red is able to scramble up and over. After a moment her head pokes up over the edge. “It’s dark and smelly,” she says with a wrinkled nose.

Mara pulls her tinderbox and one of her precious candles from her pack, lights the candle, and hands it over the edge to Red. The rest of us climb inside and spread out, taking stock.

The tunnel is roughly arched, with an uneven floor that slopes gradually downward. Beams brace the walls at regular intervals, though some have toppled into the center. They are in various stages of decay, and shimmery with cobwebs.

“We’ll collect wood and resin for torches and firewood,” I say. “As much as we can carry. Storm and I can use our Godstones for light if necessary, but I’d rather save our strength for emergencies.”

“There’s plenty of wood along the way,” Waterfall says. Her sharp features seem nearly skeletal in the shadows cast by our single flame of light. “These beams burn well, and torches are stashed throughout. Some are very old, but they’ll be better than nothing. When we encounter the stashes, though, I suggest we take several, because a few stretches of our journey will take us through tunnels that were never well used.”

In demonstration, she bends over the shadow of what might be a wooden crate and pulls out a torch that is black and dry with age. She holds it toward Red, who lights the end with her candle. It catches instantly, washing the icy tunnel entrance in shades of orange. “Ready?” she says.

I grab Mara’s hand and say, “Will you be all right?”

She breathes deep through her nose and says, “I have to be, don’t I?” Then she pulls her hand away and steps resolutely forward.

“Be alert,” Storm says. “We’ll be going farther and deeper than my sister has ever been. I know that in Joya d’Arena, rumors are something to scoff at, due to the prevaricating, deceiving nature of your people. But in Invierne, rumors of danger should be taken seriously.”

“Hopefully, it is less dangerous than volcanoes and avalanches and freezing temperatures,” I say, but Storm just shrugs.

Belén grabs a few more torches from the crate, we tighten the waist straps of our packs, and together we turn our backs on the entrance and follow Mara into the belly of the earth.