sword

From Sword and Song

By Angela Dencklau '04

From Chapter 34

Daymen stepped free of the arch and crossed the distance from it to the opening in the formerly seamless wall.Amial followed him closely, an arrow taut on her bow. Daymen drew Falkris’ sword as he passed into the darkness that shadowed the opening. The archer was right behind him. The moment she entered the passage all of her senses dimmed and she was rendered entirely blind. When she lit the torch, she felt the heat of flames near her fingers, but saw no light.

She blew out the torch and reached out to find the knight. When she said his name, no sound escaped her lips. Her questing hand at last contacted his shoulder.He jumped, as frightened by the contact as she had been. Gratefully, she moved closer to him, keeping one hand on him at all times.

After a long, silent moment, he moved on. She stayed with him, her only comfort in the strange passage the feel of another human being beneath her fingers. Their progress was slow. To scream, to make something in the dark world come to life with sound or light, would have been like heaven on earth. Though she wanted the nightmare to end, Amial knew that caution was best. She did not want Daymen to misstep and lead them both to death at the bottom of a pit. Just thinking about death in this place made Amial tighten her grip on his shoulder. With one rough hand he reached up to pat her fingers, reassuring her.

As the journey continued, Amial became aware that she and the knight were not alone. A great presence was there in the dark, touching her and teasing her with its feather-light touch. While she knew that the being meant her no harm, fear of it consumed her. That the entity was testing her for something she was certain, but she could not fathom what. The gentle probing she felt now was similar to what she had felt briefly in the flames of the arch.

After what seemed an eternity, they emerged into light. Amial closed her eyes immediately to protect her vision, but pain lanced through her forehead as soon as light touched her. When she was certain she could open her eyes without further pain, she did so.

In a large room filled with snow, light streamed from the ceiling to illuminate great drifts that towered on either side of the pair. Amial felt as though she were standing at the heart of an ocean during a storm. The drifts were like waves that could crash down upon her and slay her at any moment.

Where there was not snow, white stone covered with ice dominated. The ice was thicker here than it was in the rest of the temple, and everything seemed to be on a larger scale as well. Even the cold temperature of the place was more intense. In reaction, the archer’s teeth began to chatter.

Daymen moved away from her, the sword held out warily before him. Still fumbling for her bow, Amial did not follow him immediately. Fingers nearly frozen solid, she could barely nock an arrow. Her hands shook, making it hard for her to keep her weapon ready.

When at last she managed to gain sufficient control of her hands, Amial saw that Daymen was far ahead of her. He was moving slowly, but it seemed to take her forever to catch him. Trying to ask him to wait for her, she discovered she could not make a sound. The air around her thickened, impeding her progress.

When Amial looked over her shoulder and saw that she had not gone more than a few feet after several minutes of running, she stopped. Her heart hammering in her chest, she looked more closely at the room. Something was horribly wrong.

Wishing to allay her fears, Amial scanned the snow. Meanwhile, Daymen moved out of sight and disappeared around the edge of a particularly large snowdrift.Amial swallowed, trying to figure out what felt so out of place about this room. Fearing that she would not find the answer in time, she decided to climb the nearest snowdrift for a better look around.

The snow was powdery beneath her boots. She sank in to the knee with each step, but she was making better progress than she had before. Snow slid beneath her breeches and penetrated her boot with its icy touch. When the cold substance slid along her ankle, she gasped soundlessly at the sharp sensation.The whole situation added to her sense of unease; beyond this temple, where the world was still sane, it was summer.

When she reached the top of the drift, she turned in a circle to survey the room Drifts of snow stretched for what seemed to be at least a mile. In places, the powdery ocean of white appeared to have been recently disturbed by something rather large. Alarmed, Amial searched for Daymen. The knight was not far from her. Only one overly large drift separated them. Calling out and waving her arms, Amial hoped he would see her. Again, no sound escaped her throat, but the movement attracted his attention. His eyes met hers, and she saw a relieved look cross his face; he had been looking for her. Signaling for him to wait for her, she scrambled down the snowdrift, leaving a chaotic trail behind her.

Her feet touched ground, and she was climbing the next drift. About halfway up, her feet connected with something solid beneath the snow. She froze in place, too panicked to take any other action. When she regained her ability to think, she bent to dig her way down and investigate. Her fingers uncovered something smooth and white as the snow.

Amial contemplated the object for a moment before deciding it was best to keep moving and continue her awkward journey over the drift. When she reached the top, she paused to rest and catch her breath. Daymen waved at her from below. Smiling, she waved back. Just then, something beneath the snow shifted abruptly and the archer lost her balance and fell. She slid back down the drift, landing on her butt on the side opposite Daymen. Pain shot through her spine, making her gasp, the sound echoing loudly in ears after the silence. A heartbeat later she heard Daymen screaming her name.

Angela Dencklau is a music education major at Wartburg College.