Remnant

by Brenda J. Pierson

  “Me too.” She stood for a moment and gazed at the waterfall. She could easily imagine her and Windrunner sitting on the bank, relaxing, maybe even dunking their feet in the icy water. The image made her pause. She hadn’t pictured them together, as friends, since before they’d learned of Windrunner’s magic. Brinelle wasn’t sure what was making it easier to handle the truth—was it because he’d banished that dark magic, or because she’d seen proof he didn’t have to become a Varyah? Or was it because of the niggling little suspicion Windrunner may not be simply a Varyah after all? Whatever it was, she felt as if she could relax around him again. A weight she hadn’t known she carried was lifted from her soul and she smiled.

  She pulled her thoughts back to the present and looked around the area, still in awe at the sight but trying to focus. They’d followed the directions from the portal, but it hadn’t said what to do once they got here. How could they find their way now?

  Her eyes landed on a patch of white near the base of the waterfall as Windrunner pointed it out. They approached, shouting at each other to be heard over the pounding water. “What is it?” Brinelle asked.

  Windrunner didn’t answer until they were within arm’s reach. “They’re mushrooms.”

  She peeked over his shoulder. Long white mushrooms grew down from the rock, their ends trailing in the water. They looked like melted wax running down the outside of an overly burned candle.

  Windrunner brushed the mushrooms aside. The rock opened into a small cave, and a blast of arctic air blew past them. She’d never felt anything so frigid in her entire life. Brinelle’s heart stopped. She shivered, but it wasn’t entirely from the cold. She clenched her fists, licked her lips, and forced herself to speak. “Why is it so cold in there?”

  “I don’t know. That isn’t what these kinds of places are usually like.” He knelt down, peering into the blackness. “This has got to be it, though.”

  Look away. It’s just a cave. It’s not the open maw of the earth come to swallow you. Not a tiny dark place to get stuck and listen as you lose everything you love.

  “It’s about time,” Fi’ar grumbled. He pushed past her, again, and strode into the cave as if crawling through the throat of the earth was perfectly normal. Windrunner followed without pause. Brinelle thought he looked excited.

  She didn’t go after him.

  “Are you coming?”

  Brinelle stood still, her feet rooted to the ground. She could feel herself trembling.

  Windrunner’s face softened and he came out of the cave to stand before her. “Brinelle? Are you all right?”

  “I …” She couldn’t tear her eyes from the hole. It looked hungry.

  Windrunner looked behind him, then back to her. “Are you afraid of caves?” He paused. “Oh. Small and dark. Like the closet.” His voice was gentle. He placed a hand on her arm, hesitantly, as if afraid she’d pull away.

  He shifted into her view, drawing her eyes away from the cave and to his. He smiled. “And here I was thinking you weren’t afraid of anything.”

  She couldn’t find the strength to respond.

  His hand tightened on her arm. “It’s all right, Brinelle. It won’t hurt you.”

  Of course not. I’ll probably be dead before I notice anything is wrong to begin with.

  “Brinelle.” His tone, serious and concerned, made her meet his eyes. He held her gaze, those warm brown eyes staring into her soul. “You were strong enough to defy the Godspeaker. You hiked across a desert with me, fought mazahnen, faced down the urn warriors, sailed an ocean, explored a forbidden ship, and killed assassins sent to murder you. You even met my parents.” He smiled that charming half-smile of his. “You’re strong enough to do this.”

  No, she wasn’t. She’d never been good with enclosed spaces. In Nevantia, there was no such thing. Everything was wide open, expansive. Even the Evantar monastery had been built on epic proportions. She’d managed well enough on the ship and in Syrenia mostly by nerve. But this … this was different. It was like walking into your own grave.

  She took a few deep breaths. There was no choice. They had to get the Remnant, and she couldn’t let Windrunner and Fi’ar do this alone. She’d volunteered for this. There was no way she would abandon Windrunner now.

  She was far from convinced, but she nodded. Windrunner turned and led her into the cave.

  It was a tight fit, or perhaps it just felt that way to her. They had to stoop to go forward, and the sides of the cave brushed her elbows if she moved even a few inches to the side. She struggled to keep her breath under control. What little sunlight reached into here was growing dimmer with every inch. Was the cave getting smaller?

  Windrunner turned, leaning in close enough Brinelle could feel the heat from his body. She was grateful for it—she was shivering from more than fear now.

  “We’ll have to crawl for a bit,” he said. He kept his eyes on hers, as if feeding her strength through his gaze. She could barely see him in the gloom. “Fi’ar got through fine, so I know we can. All right?”

  She didn’t trust herself to speak. She nodded, her heart plopping into her stomach.

  They started crawling, rough stone scraping her back and her hands slipping on moldy rocks. Small puddles of frigid water turned her toes and fingers to ice. She tried desperately not to think of the rock above her, or the mysteries of the dark, or of being buried alive.

  Of screams and blood, locked in a tiny closet while her parents were murdered on the other side.

  Each time she tried not to think of it, there it was, like a nightmare.

  The narrow crawlspace wasn’t all that long, but it felt like an eternity. By the time Windrunner stood and turned to help her into a larger cavern, she was shaking so hard she needed Windrunner to pull her to her feet. Her vision was clouded by tears.

  “It’s all right,” Windrunner whispered, wrapping her in his arms. She huddled against him, grateful for his warmth, his presence. Grateful she hadn’t emerged to find his body, the way she’d found her parents’. She was ashamed of herself, but her fear was too strong to stop the tears.

  “You’re safe. I’m here.” He held her while she tried to gather her nerve. “It was worth it, though. You’ve got to see this, Brinelle. It’s amazing.”

  He released her after a moment, and she wiped the tears from her eyes with her sleeves. It took her a moment to clear her vision and look around the cavern.

  The jagged, stalactite-covered ceiling was tall enough for them to stand, though Fi’ar had to duck in a few places. A maze of milky calcium columns linked it to the floor. A thick layer of ice coated the walls, casting a blue hue over the grey stone. It gave the room a sense of space that lessened her claustrophobia.

  Around the base of each column grew patches of vividly green algae, crowned with large flowers of clear pink crystal. Fi’ar was crouched beside a clump of these, peering at them but not touching them.

  “How is it bright enough to see?” she whispered.

  Windrunner pointed toward the crystal flowers. They were glowing.

  Brinelle looked around, amazement dampening her fear. She’d heard of ice, of course. When she’d run across the description in a book as a child she’d spent weeks researching it. Ice, snow, it had fascinated her. But she’d never thought to see it for herself. She touched the ice, feeling it freeze her fingers.

  She’d never seen anything like this. Granted, she hadn’t been in many—any—caves before, but something told her this one was spectacular. “Wow,” she said. It was the best she could manage.

  She knelt by one of the crystal flowers. She reached toward it, and the faint glow brightened, flickering like a flame. “These aren’t natural,” she said. “They’re infused with Creation magic. Like someone encapsulated the belantra naan.”

  “Is that even possible?” Windrunner asked.

  Brinelle shrugged. “It must be. But I’ve never heard of any kind of magic like this.”

  She picked up a flower-crystal, a ting
le of awe forming in her mind. Was this Tsenian magic? She knew of nothing in all of Evantar history that could even begin to form this kind of feat. Could she be holding a piece of Tsenian magic in her hands? The thought made her stomach do flips.

  Her shivering eased as the crystal warmed. The others were beginning to waken as well. Reacting to her magic? If this was an advanced form of the belantra naan, it would make sense that the presence of Creation magic would be the catalyst to awaken it.

  Brinelle stepped carefully, lighting the rest of the flower-crystals. It was effortless to do so, yet they were both brighter and generated more heat than a simple belantra naan. At least they stopped her from shivering. From the cold. There was still too much rock above her head for her to completely relax.

  The ice along the walls glistened as it started to melt. The cavern was large, yet between the three of them they were able to explore it in a matter of moments. No tunnels led farther into the rock, nor was there any evidence of the Remnant in this chamber. This had to be the place—even if its matching the cryptic message on the portal was a coincidence, the presence of the Tsenian flower-crystals was not. The Remnant was here, somewhere. They just had to be smart enough to find it.

  “Was there anything else on the portal?” Windrunner asked. “Another clue, maybe?”

  “No,” Brinelle and Fi’ar replied. She shot a glance at the urn warrior but he shrugged. “Did you not expect me to check myself?”

  She shook her head. There was still an incoming Shahadán to deal with. The puzzle of the urn warrior would have to wait for another time. Right now, they had to find the Remnant.

  Their footfalls grew more solid, splashing in the melted ice. Water was streaming from the walls as if the waterfall above was leaking into this chamber. Brinelle paced along the back wall, running her fingers along the slick ice and running water. Her thoughts were distracted by the lingering fear, the awe of the Tsenian magic … the crunch beneath her feet.

  She froze. The ice below her crackled with deep, heart-stopping pops.

  “Brinelle, stop! Don’t move.”

  “I wasn’t planning to.”

  She held her hands out for balance. Her heart was the only thing moving. She looked down. Lines had appeared in the ice, spiderwebbing out from her foot. Even as she watched they expanded with another terrifying crack.

  Windrunner and Fi’ar inched toward her, each checking their footing to make sure the ground was solid beneath them. Windrunner made it to her first, his outstretched arm just beyond her reach.

  “I don’t think we can get any closer,” he said, peering at the ice. His eyes looked wild when he met her gaze.

  “What do I do?” she asked.

  “Which foot is your weight on right now?”

  “The back foot.”

  He sighed. “Good. Don’t put any more weight on that front foot, or you’ll break through.”

  She nodded, focusing on keeping her breathing slow and relaxed.

  “Can you shift back the way you came?”

  She started moving, mimicking the calm, slow movements of the opening chatana drosand routine. Another crack sounded, deeper this time, enough to make Brinelle’s stomach drop. She froze again.

  “That ice will not hold,” Fi’ar said. His voice held none of the fear Windrunner’s had, as if her peril were a distant experiment.

  “I know,” she and Windrunner replied.

  “Brinelle,” Windrunner said, “as soon as you move, that ice will break. Can you make it over here without falling in?”

  She nodded, then closed her eyes. She slowed her breathing, allowing herself to fall into a light meditative state. It only took a moment, but even so she knew she was out of time.

  She opened her eyes. Jumping would put too much pressure on the fractured ice. Moving too slowly would allow all her weight to center on a single spot for too long and break it. She had to move quickly, but smoothly, not too fast, but not too slow. Simple.

  One more breath, then she began to move. She slid her right foot a little farther out, then shifted her weight inch by inch. The ice groaned. Brinelle didn’t stop to panic. She pulled her other foot along, never lifting it from the ice. Slide. No pressure. Gentle, light movements. Like she was taught in chatana drosand.

  Windrunner was three long strides away. He might as well have been back in Nevantia.

  Shuffle forward, pause, shuffle some more. It was an agonizingly slow way to make progress. But Windrunner was almost within reach now, and then …

  The ice cracked.

  Brinelle felt the shift beneath her feet. This crack was deeper, more menacing than the others. She had a brief second to panic before it gave way beneath her and she plummeted into the frigid water below.

  She sank like a stone, the water pulling her down hungrily. The light from the Tsenian crystals disappeared in the black water. She clawed against the water, trying to rise, but the weight of her supplies was too much to counter.

  The salve! Brinelle’s panic redoubled. The healing salve wasn’t waterproof. If—no, when—they got into another battle with the mazahnen, they wouldn’t have the salve to keep them on their feet afterward.

  Priorities, Brinelle. Survive this first.

  She reached out to either side, feeling for any walls around her. Her fingers brushed rock to her right, but it was too far to help her gain traction. She kept going down.

  The water around her changed. It was subtle, enough that it could easily have been missed. But it was warmer down here, with a very slight current pulling away from her. Another passage?

  Of course. Ice hid the entrance to the Remnant’s chamber, which ensured no one could stumble upon it accidentally. Whoever came to retrieve it had to have Creation magic to wake the flower-crystals and melt the ice. Clever.

  Brinelle’s feet hit stone. She pushed against it and launched herself upward, hands grabbing at the rocks to pull herself up. Her lungs burned for air. A few heartbeats later, she surfaced, coughing and sputtering.

  Windrunner and Fi’ar pulled her out of the water. She lay on the ground, shaking. “Are you all right?”

  “I am. I think …” She paused to cough more water from her lungs. “I think the way to the Remnant is through there.”

  “What?”

  Windrunner helped her to her feet. “There’s another passage down there that leads farther into the cave. I felt warmer water near the bottom, as if it connected to another cavern.”

  They all exchanged a look. “I cannot swim,” Fi’ar said.

  “The walls are rocky and very rough,” Brinelle said. “I was able to surface by climbing them. If all the tunnels are that way, we can pull ourselves along well enough.” And if not, we can drown.

  Fi’ar hesitated, the first time she’d seen him unsure, then nodded. “If that’s what must be done.”

  Brinelle shivered. That meant there was another miniscule tunnel to traverse. And this one was underwater. I have to go back down there. Down into the watery grave …

  Windrunner placed his hand on her arm. “Are you really all right?” he whispered.

  She looked at him and forced a smile. “Yes.”

  He paused. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Neither do I.”

  Windrunner looked at her for a moment, checking on her, reassuring her. She tried to look confident but wasn’t sure if she succeeded.

  “We’ll have to leave our supplies here,” Fi’ar said, already stripping off his pack. “Anything we will not require must stay.”

  They laid their packs off to the side, well away from the open water. Their cloaks followed. The Tsenian crystals had warmed the air significantly, but Brinelle still shivered without the wool around her.

  Brinelle and Windrunner both hesitated, their hands hovering over their staves. It would be beyond foolish to dive into a mysterious situation unarmed, but if the weapons impeded their progress any, they could risk drowning.

  “Fi’ar, could you scout the tunnel for us
first? Make sure it leads somewhere, see if we’d be safe to bring our staves along?”

  The urn warrior nodded and leapt into the water. She couldn’t say he seemed afraid, but it was probably the closest he ever came to it.

  Brinelle counted to herself, measuring the time Fi’ar was gone. What if it was too far for them to make it? She couldn’t imagine the Tsenian who’d set up these chambers would make it impossible for any but an expert swimmer to survive, but she had so little experience being underwater. Sandstorms, extreme heat, blazing sunshine, certainly. Freezing temperatures and deep water? She was at a loss with such things. She wasn’t even sure how long she could hold her breath.

  She’d passed one hundred by the time Fi’ar’s head popped up from the water. He took a single deep breath. His eyes were wide with fear or adrenaline, glittering as brightly as his orange tattoos. “It won’t be easy,” he said, “but it’s possible. Sufficient holds all the way. There are a few sharp turns where the staves won’t fit.” He didn’t wait for them to respond, diving back underwater without even a pause.

  Brinelle sighed, leaving her staff in the pile of things left behind. She wasn’t defenseless, by far—she still had her magic, after all, and chatana drosand had been designed for unarmed combat—but she was still hesitant to leave the staff. If they were met with another surprise like the Godspeaker’s assassins, or the Varyah stalking them, she would be hard-pressed to make it out alive.

  “I’ll go first,” Windrunner said. “Give me a count of thirty before following. If you don’t make it out behind me by my thirty count, I’ll come back for you.”

  Brinelle nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  “Breathe slowly while you’re waiting. Take big, deep breaths. That’ll help you hold more air while you’re underwater.”

  He leaned in and gave her a small kiss on the cheek. “I know you can do it.” He smiled at her, that charming half-smile she was so enamored with. Not a hint of Varyah darkness in it. Then Windrunner climbed into the water, took a few breaths, and dove.

  She was left alone in the ice cave, shivering, her cheek ablaze from Windrunner’s kiss. Her mind was so addled she nearly forgot to start counting. He said he’d come back for me. He kissed me.