The familiar voice came again, and she realized it wasn’t coming from this chamber.
A thrill went through her.
She got to her feet and picked her way between the sleeping men to the blocked tunnel. The debris, composed of several large boulders and tens of small rocks, felt icy cold.
Two voices: both soft, but familiar.
Why hadn’t she heard them before? Voices carried farther at night, especially when it was as quiet as it was tonight. There was no wind. The warriors above her were silent.
She used her hand to dig out some of the gravel and dirt that filled the space between two of the large boulders. It crackled as it hit the floor, but none of the sleeping men seemed to hear it.
When she’d created a hole as deep as her arm was long, she pressed her mouth into a gap and called, “Washani?”
The voices stopped.
“Washani?” she called again, as loud as she dared.
Silence.
Then Washani called, “Deputy Keresa? Is that you?”
She leaned her forehead against the wall and smiled.
Skimmer lay on the thick pile of buffalo hides and stared at the utter blackness. She had no idea where she was, but she had to be very close to the beating hearts of the Ice Giants. Their cries and groans seemed louder here, more grief-stricken.
She rolled to her side and tried to sleep.
Ti-Bish had led her through the dark tunnels for hands of time, feeling the way. At each fork, he would sniff the air, as though the tunnels had a distinctive scent. She had funneled all of her concentration into the task, but had no more chance of retracing her path than she did of flying.
When they’d finally arrived here, he’d taken her hand and placed it on the items in the cave: the sleeping hides; a water bag; a basket of pemmican, consisting of a length of intestine stuffed with meat, berries, and fat; and wild rice cakes.
Then he’d left her alone.
The darkness pressed on her eyes and ears as though it had heavy hands.
“Did Windwolf really win?” she whispered, and her voice seemed to ring in the silence, bouncing back from the ice walls. Ti-Bish had assured her he had, and that Ashes was safe. But how could he know for sure?
If Windwolf had lost the battle, what had happened to Ashes? Had Lookingbill gotten her out before the end?
Horrifying images flashed: Ashes being raped by Nightland warriors … Ashes being herded northward with the other orphans to become slaves in Nightland villages … Ashes lying dead in the Spirit Chamber with her head bashed in … .
“He won,” she said sternly. “Windwolf won. He killed Kakala and destroyed his war party to the last warrior.”
She had to believe it.
But whatever had happened, she still had a terrible task ahead of her.
She had to kill Ti-Bish. Perhaps in the chaos afterward, Windwolf would be able to storm the Nightland Caves and force their Elders to halt the attacks on the remaining Sunpath bands. Or, with the Guide dead, maybe the Nightland would simply lose heart, their warriors withdrawing meekly to leave her people alone.
A strange tapping began. It echoed from some distant tunnel. She listened, hoping it was Ti-Bish returning with a lamp. The tapping turned into a forceful thudding, and she realized it was water.
Had a new crack opened in the bellies of the Ice Giants and allowed a pool of meltwater to escape?
Would it flood her cave?
Is this how I’ll die? Drowned in ice water, here, deep in the darkness? She bent her head, tears of despair streaking down her cheeks. She sobbed, wishing for sunlight, air, and the feel of wind on her face.
The Ice Giants let out an ear-splitting groan, then trembled, shaking the floor beneath her … and the thudding stopped.
Skimmer clamped her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering.
Pain
She doesn’t know I’m here, sitting just outside her chamber.
Raven Hunter told me long ago that I needn’t fear the darkness; that I walked with Death every instant of my life, and if I could just keep staring at it, I would never be afraid again.
But I worry about Skimmer.
She is a creature of light and warmth.
Raven Hunter tells me that I must force her to live in perpetual darkness for at least one moon. That she has to get used to it, because it is the nature of Raven Hunter’s world and the sooner she learns what that means, the better.
I haven’t the heart.
She’s tearing herself apart in there. Her breathing is rapid and shallow. She keeps whimpering as though she can feel the hands of monsters stroking her body.
Doubt consumes me.
I asked Raven Hunter today why it was taking so long, why he couldn’t just show me the hole in the ice and let me lead our people back to that paradise.
For the first time, he grew angry. The earthquake that followed his outburst lasted for nearly three tens of heartbeats. I was terrified that the Ice Giants were going to collapse around me, burying me in the darkness forever.