Frostfell

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Akhrasut Neth

The belkagen led the way, threading a winding path up Akhrasut Neth through ravines filled with thousands of years of shattered stone and sand. Low trees with thick, twisted roots clung to the rocks, and even this late in the year their small, waxy leaves were thick and vibrant. Amira followed the belkagen, staying close, for neither of them carried a torch, and with the canopy of cloud hiding the moon and stars, the night was dark. She knew Lendri and Gyaidun were following-the big man carrying the deer-but she heard them more than she saw them. In the almost total darkness, her surroundings were little more than varying shades of murk. She stumbled several times and would have fallen once had she not had her staff to steady her.

She cursed herself, knowing what a terrible racket she was making, though the others moved with little more noise than the breeze through the brush. Amira knew elves could see like owls in the dark, and even Gyaidun seemed to be having little trouble. Now and then she heard others following as well-the turning of a stone, gravel sliding under stealthy feet, a branch sliding over a passing body-but she never saw who was trailing them. The belkagen seemed unconcerned, so she followed his lead. About halfway up, they walked out of the fog. Amira could still see no better, but the darkness didn't seem as thick, and the air that came to her lungs had a dry bite. By the cold, she knew there'd be a thick coating of frost by morning, and if those clouds chose to release their burden, they'd have snow. The ground grew steeper, the trees smaller and farther between, and Amira soon found herself climbing more than walking, pulling herself over jagged boulders and up shelves of rock. Though she was quite warm in the clothes the belkagen had given her, climbing the rocks made her fingers stiff and cold. She was about to swallow her pride and call for a rest when their trail entered another ravine, and this time there were jagged steps cut into the rock. Though they were cracked and weathered with age, Amira knew they were far too straight and regular to be natural. Someone had carved these. The stairway doubled back on itself three times, and then the land flattened out. Before Amira's eyes, the darkness bled away into bright contrasts of shadow, gray, and silver, and she looked up. A jagged tear had opened in the clouds, and the edge of the moon shone down on them. Leaning on her staff and breathing hard, Amira looked back. Akhrasut Neth sat on a sea of fog, unbroken to the farthest horizon. Gyaidun and Lendri climbed the last of the steps, and Amira saw others behind them, the nearest just rounding the last twist of the stairs. She could not make out details in the moonlight, only pale shadows, but there were many of them, dozens at least. Some walked upright while some padded upward on all fours. Amira turned to the belkagen, who stood watching the sky not far away. "The Vil Adanrath are coming?" she asked. "The omah nin's pack and a few others, yes." "Why?" "They come to honor Akhrasut Neth. It is tradition." "What about…?" Amira looked to Gyaidun, the deer carcass still draped over his shoulders. "They will keep an honorable distance," said the belkagen. "Haerul knows what you do here this night. He may watch from afar, but he will not approach the exiles." Amira looked back down. The nearest of the Vil Adanrath had seen them and stopped on the stairway. Even as she watched, the rent in the clouds passed over the moon, and the world plunged into darkness again. "We must go," said the belkagen. "Midnight is not far off." They set off, Amira following the belkagen. Again she had to follow him more by sound than sight. The trail wound through more trees, some of which stood beside the trail itself so they had to duck through branches to pass. After stumbling over the third root, Amira stopped and said, "Belkagen, is there some taboo against torches?"

"Taboo?" said the belkagen. "I am sorry, Lady. I do not know this word." "Why am I stumbling around in the dark? My toes are bruised and my shins feel scraped raw. Is it forbidden to carry light on the Mother's Bed?" There was a short silence, then Amira heard the old elf chuckling. "My apologies, Lady Amira. There is no… taboo. I merely forgot the limits of your eyes. Forgive my discourtesy." The belkagen spoke a short incantation, and green flames began to lick up the top quarter length of his staff. They were not the pale sickly green of fire magic she'd sometimes seen dark wizards use, but a vibrant, living flame, like spring sunshine filtered through a canopy of newly sprouted leaves. Amira thought she even caught the scent of blossoms. The light they cast was meager, but in the near-total dark to which her eyes had become accustomed it seemed like a beacon. They set off again, and Amira looked over her shoulder to Gyaidun. "How do you see so well in the dark? You're human." "I am athkaraye.

Elf-friend. Even though I am now an exile, the blessings remain."

Amira remembered him speaking of this once before, of the "blessings" he'd gained in becoming Lendri's blood brother and elf-friend to the Vil Adanrath. She knew of similar rites among elves to the west, though she'd never met one of the so-called "elf-friends." But it would go a long way toward explaining how Gyaidun moved with such grace and stealth in the wild, how he ran seemingly tirelessly for scores of miles… and how he could see on such a dark night. The group walked on a bit more, and soon the trees thinned as the ground rose. In the clearing, the belkagen stopped, and by the light cast from his staff, Amira saw a large fang of rock breaking through the ground. A great fissure split the stone from the ground to half its height, forming a door into darkness. "This is it?" said Amira, her voice hushed to a reverent whisper. Even after hearing the belkagen's history of this place, she hadn't put too much weight in it. Every people from the crudest barbarians to the most cultured societies had their own traditions, histories, and legends. She didn't discount any of them, but neither did she accept them without question. She had sifted through the old shaman's tale, hoping that this might be one of Faer?n's sites of power, that she might find some aid in rescuing Jalan. But standing there in a thick darkness broken only by the shimmering light cast from the belkagen's staff, far from her home with shapeshifters at her back and a fell sorcerer somewhere out there, for that moment she believed. Something in her deepest heart, some buried race memory, perhaps, of a time when all men walked in fear of the ancient powers of the world… something inside Amira woke up and hummed with life at the sight of the yawning darkness in the rock. "This is Hro'nyewachu," said the belkagen. Amira heard a rustling in the grass behind her, and she turned. Gyaidun had placed the deer in the grass before him, and both he and Lendri knelt with their heads bowed. Behind them, among the trees, Amira saw silver shadows keeping a respectful distance. They too knelt, and even those that walked on four legs through the trees stopped and lowered their heads. "From here," said the belkagen, and Amira turned back to face him, "we go alone, you and I." Amira tried to swallow but found her throat dry. "Lead on," she rasped. The belkagen knelt beside the deer carcass. "If you would, Yastehanye…" Gyaidun lifted the deer and placed it over the elf's shoulders. He moved with a reverence that only deepened Amira's trepidation. The belkagen stood, holding the deer secure with one hand and his staff in the other. If the carcass was a great burden to him, he didn't show it. "If we are not back by sunrise," said the belkagen, his voice raised for everyone to hear,

"do not tarry. Go to the aid of Jalan, son of Amira of Cormyr, and bring the vengeance of the Vil Adanrath upon those who took him." The belkagen turned and proceeded into the cave. Amira followed. Behind them, the howling of wolves rode the autumn dark. She hoped their song was a salute, but to her the mournful howls sounded more like a dirge.

Their path descended almost at once, the ground beneath Amira's feet ranging from steps hewn out of the rock to gravel-strewn sand.

The trail wound back and forth, deeper and deeper into the heart of Akhrasut Neth. At times they walked through tunnels low enough that both were forced to crouch, and the green flames from the belkagen's staff lit the path before and behind them a long way. At other times they emerged into caverns so vast the darkness swallowed the light.

Amira expected to hear the chitter of bats or the scuttle of insects, but there was nothing. Save for the shuffling of their feet and the sound of their breath, all was utter silence, a heaviness beyond even sound that weighed upon Amira the farther they went. The beating of her own heart sounded loud in her ears. They left the biting cold of autumn night behind them and fell into a uniform coolness that did not change through the seasons. The air tasted dry and clean, and the change in it was Amira's first clue that they were approaching something new. Dampness. That's what it was. Amira could smell water in the air. She and the belkagen descended a flight of stairs in a tight tunnel, then emerged into a cavern, broad beyond the reach of the staff's light but with a low ceiling littered with stalactites.

The inverted cones of stone glistened in the green light of the belkagen's flame, and they drip-drip-dripped into a pool that filled all but a sandy strip of dry land before them. If the path continued on the far shore, Amira could not see it, for the far side was beyond the reach of the staff's light. "From here," said the belkagen, his voice lowered to a reverent whisper, "you must go on alone. I cannot aid you." "Go on?" said Amira. "Where?" "Through the water. You can swim?" "Yes." "It is not deep, but before you reach the other side, the water will be over your head. On the far shore is an opening to the Heart. You must go alone. What happens there is between you and Hro'nyewachu." "And if"-Amira took a deep breath-"if something happens to me, if I need your help…?" "There is no help I can give you, Lady. If Hro'nyewachu takes you, I will honor your memory. But there is nothing I can do to hinder the will of Hro'nyewachu." Amira considered that. It was not bravery or blind faith that decided her, but simple pragmatism. She knew she was no match for the thing that held Jalan. She knew that without help her best hope would be to get away with her son and spend the rest of her life running, jumping at every shadow, never trusting to a night's rest, and putting everyone who aided her in danger. If there was a way to defeat Jalan's abductors once and for all, if even an inkling of the belkagen's suspicions and counsel were true, she'd be a fool not to try. "You'll be here when I return?" she said. "I will." "How… how am I supposed to take the oracle's gift?" She pointed to the deer carcass. "I can swim well enough, but not carrying that." "Take it as far as you can.

Hro'nyewachu will see to the rest." Amira wasn't sure she liked the sound of that. No matter. Do or die. Let it be done. She motioned for the belkagen to hand her the deer. "There is… one thing more," said the belkagen, and Amira could not tell if his tone was solemnity, embarrassment, or both. "What?" "You can take nothing with you. Your staff, your spell-book, your dagger, and your, uh… your clothes must remain here." "I go… naked?" "The water is not that cold." "Naked?

Why?" The belkagen lowered his eyes. "It is the way. So it has always been done. So it must be done. You must take with you only your purest essence, no aid beyond body, soul, and spirit." Amira scowled. It was a trivial thing at which to balk, perhaps, but still… "I am Vil Adanrath," said the belkagen, "not human, and Lady, I am very old, but if you wish it, I shall turn my back to honor your people's customs of modesty." Modesty be damned. "Let's get this over with," she said and began to strip, first her elkhide cloak, then her boots, her outer clothes, and finally her smallclothes, all of which she laid in a neat pile not far from the water's edge. She placed her staff, belt with sheathed blade and pouches, and her spellbook atop the pile, then stood and motioned for the deer. Though it was not the biting cold of the outside world, the air inside the cavern was cool, and her bare skin crinkled into gooseflesh. The belkagen leaned close, averting his eyes, and placed the deer over her shoulders. It was not unbearably heavy so much as awkward in its utter dead weight. The coarse fur made her skin itch. She turned to the water. "The other side? An opening, you said?" "Yes," said the belkagen. "Your gods and ancestors go with you." Amira closed her eyes. A strange feeling washed over her. Dread, yes, but not one that was entirely unpleasant. Fear, yes, but also an odd exhilaration and eagerness. It was not unlike the first time she had been with a man, the one who'd changed her from maiden to woman, the one she'd loved and later watched die. She prayed-Azuth, Mystra, Kelemvor… keep me alive long enough to save my son. If not, grant the enemies of my enemies bloody vengeance. She stepped into the pool.

The water was warmer than the air, and it sparked a sharp awareness in her skin. Amira felt every grain of wet sand between her toes, every tiny pebble beneath her feet, and against her bare shins she could even feel the slight ripples caused by the water dripping off the stalactites. She walked on, dragging her feet through the soft sand, enjoying the sensation. Ten steps and the water was already above her knees. Another four and her hips and waist disappeared beneath the water. The green light cast by the belkagen's staff on the shore behind her grew fainter, and by her thirtieth step she walked in dim, wet shadow with the water caressing the swell of her breasts. As the darkness swallowed Amira, her other senses sharpened. She could distinguish every drip striking her scalp, feel the tiny waves caused by their impact and her own movement, and she could almost sense a rhythm in dozens of tiny hammer-strikes of water droplets hitting the pool's surface. Almost like sharp heartbeats. Her own pulse slowed and steadied but beat with such strength that Amira could feel blood coursing through her limbs. When the water reached her shoulders, Amira knelt, allowing the water to lift some of the burden of the deer. It became lighter, but the pull and tug of the water made it even more awkward, and her pace slowed. The belkagen's light was gone now. She knew that if she turned, she could have seen it like an emerald beacon behind her, but before her all was impenetrable blackness. The water licked at her chin, and her next step fell into nothingness. The ground dropped out beneath her and Amira went down.

She felt the water soak through her hair as she entered the thick, pulsing near-silence beneath the pool. She sank less than half a pace before her foot hit solid rock and she pushed. She rose again, but the weight of the deer hindered her, and she had to shrug it off and arch her neck to get her mouth above the water long enough to draw breath.

The deer carcass drifted off her and she held onto its foreleg with one hand as she sank again, farther this time to get more strength for her push. She knelt there in the calm silence of the pool, for just an instant listening to the distant plip-plitip-plip of the water droplets striking the surface. Then she pushed off. She broke the surface, took a deep breath-and felt the deer yanked away from her.

Her breath rose to a scream, then she was below the surface again. Her grip had not been tight-why should it? — but still she'd felt the immutable strength of something take the deer from her. The young buck's antler had scraped the back of her forearm as the head passed, then it was gone. There, alone in the darkness beneath the water, her heart hammering in her chest, Amira listened. She felt the wake of the deer's passage, and somewhere just beyond hearing she thought she might have heard harsh laughter, then she was alone again. Enough of this-back to the belkagen! part of her said, but the hard core of her, the part of Amira that fought and strived and killed in battle, recalled the belkagen's words. "Take it as far as you can.

Hro'nyewachu will see to the rest." Surprising? Yes. Damned unsettling, in fact, but this was nothing the belkagen had not told her about. Just get to the other side, she told herself, nice and easy. The water round her legs seemed to thicken, solidify, and as she opened her mouth to scream, she was pulled under. Water filled her nose, her mouth, and poured down her throat. She clawed for the surface, then the blackness and the thick silence beneath the pool swallowed her.