Dream of a Vast Blue Cavern

Chapter 14: A New Crown: Stasia

 The bottom of the Spiral Tunnel was steep, far steeper than further up toward Iskalon. Stasia could hear sounds of war coming up the tunnel from Chraun. She was utterly exhausted. Worse, though she was no longer lost, she had no idea where to go.

 She turned into the first spur tunnel she saw and laid down Dynat's unconscious body. She took the crown of Iskalon off her head and turned it in her hands, thinking of how it had rested on her father’s head, leaving a red line on his brow that she would rub at, standing on his lap as a child. She thought of Maudit, already an adult by the time she was born, putting the crown on in Father’s study, sitting in his chair and imitating his stern voice, she and her sisters dissolving into giggles at the resemblance. She placed the crown on her own head again, and it seemed not to fit. The Ancestors had made her Queen, but she did not feel like a queen. Casser led most of the people now, the rest were in Larc and Kiner’s competent hands. Stasia had fully intended to die in Chraun when she surrendered.

 But she was alive, and the crown and the former Fire King were both burdens she could not ignore. She would have to find her people and deliver Medoc’s message, and bring them back to the lake when it was safe. She had to keep Dynat alive to stand trial and execution for his crimes against Iskalon. Until Medoc’s forces were called back from the Outer Tunnels, though, her best chance for survival was to find a place to hide out. Somewhere with enough cold for her to heal herself and keep him under control.

 It was too warm here. Stasia hefted Dynat again and started back up the Spiral Tunnel. It was all she could do to put one weary foot before the other. Her entire body ached as if she’d been struck by a rockslide. As the air grew cold, she felt a painful tightening on her forehead. It took a moment to realize what was happening.

 Her lava mark from the river was hardening. The colder the tunnel grew, the harder it became. Finally she pulled it off, like pulling a scab, and tucked it up in her hair with her crown. She felt strangely vulnerable without it, as if she was accustomed to having a source of heat T'Jas. She continued up the tunnel, exhausted and sick, starving and half-crazy from her time in the cage. She needed cold and a chance to rest.

 Footsteps coming up the Spiral Tunnel behind her meant it would be sometime before she got the latter. She hurried to keep ahead of them. From the sound, it was an entire patrol of Flames. Just as their torchlight appeared around the corner, she slipped into a side tunnel. She recognized this one. It led to the burial chamber where the copper-clad Ancestors rested, where she had taken refuge after the war and built Iskalon in Exile. Where her sisters’ heads lay on the floor, scattered at the orders of the very man she carried on her shoulders. She could just barely squeeze him into the narrow tunnel. She paused for a moment, listening, and heard the steady march of footsteps and the jingle of steel plates pass the opening and fade up the Spiral.

 She set the Fire King down and grasped the hood of his cloak, dragging him after her. The burial chamber would be a good place to refresh. There might be some wild fungi growing in the patches of spore that the Fungal Guild had been starting, or some dried meat in the alcoves. Perhaps she could even take some time to bury her poor sisters. If the sack of molebear dung she dragged behind her woke, she could freeze his limbs, leaving him alive but immobile. And when she gauged enough time had passed for Medoc to retreat, she could seek the Outer Tunnels, send a few Icers to the lake to test Medoc's word.

 She had survived. She had given herself up for dead, but she had survived. Dragging her burden up the steepening tunnel, she felt suddenly unstoppable. She had come out on top, again. Perhaps she was even worthy of the monstrous crown on her head.

 But when she reached the entrance to the chamber, pausing to survey it before she entered, a sound from behind stopped her heart cold. The sound of marching, coming up the tunnel behind her. The jingle of plates of armor. Flames. Were they patrolling at random? Using the tunnel as a shortcut? Or pursuing her? Had Medoc’s grab for the throne failed, and someone loyal to Dynat sent Warriors after her?

 Stasia hurried forward, pulling Dynat into the chamber. Ominous dark lumps littered the floor, glowing ghastly purple in the light of the Burial Shaft above. As she’d thought, the Flames had not bothered to clean up the carnage of their attack. Her previous enthusiasm for this place curdled. She did not want to spend another minute here, even if there weren’t Flames advancing.

 But she was bone-weary. She had to stop and rest for a moment. She drew T’Jas, healed away her aches, took deep breaths. The footsteps were still far away. There was a tunnel on the far side of the chamber. It led to a fork, one branch heading back to the Spiral and the other toward the mines. She gathered her strength to heft the Fire King again and continue.

 A noise from the floor drew her gaze down and at first she thought one of the corpses was stirring. But it was Dynat. He was waking. “Cold,” he murmured. “Too cold.”

 “Melt you,” Stasia muttered. Could he have picked a worse time to regain consciousness? She hurried to him. If he made too much noise, he would betray her to the Flames coming up the tunnel.

 As if he knew that, he began to shout. “I will take her Dreams. I can still kill her. Just give me heat. I will kill her! I swear it!