Dream of a Vast Blue Cavern

Chapter 18: A Vast Blue Cavern: Dynat

 Dynat woke in a vast blue cavern, in agony and shivering cold. His back, lying unprotected against the ice, was completely numb. Stasia lay over him, emanating a tiny bit of body heat. His cloak trapped her heat against his chest. She was unconscious, barely breathing. Her breath and his own were the only sounds.

 The ceiling was not the dark blue of an icelight, or the black blue of the Icer's lake, or even the mysterious purple blue of a Burial Shaft, but a light, soft blue that Dynat had never seen before. Toward the apex, a single feature marred the blueness, a perfectly round white sphere that looked like the ghost of a ball. Toward the floor of the great dome, blue faded to hazy white, almost pink. A few feet away, a circle of twisted columns of ice, like a sculpture made by an insane Icer, towered all around.

 Help me, he called to the Fire Spirit, but there was no answer. For the first time in memory, he was completely alone in his own mind, cold and empty and desolate as the huge cavern he lay in. Please come back. I can still kill her.

 Only silence followed the plea, accompanied by loneliness so deep Dynat thought he would drown in it. He remembered Stasia’s cold power blowing the flames off the Fire Spirit’s face, revealing an ordinary man, darkly handsome, with startled eyes. How could a deity feel surprise? Had Stasia defeated the Fire Spirit?

 It was inconceivable, but the evidence was in the absence. Whether the Fire Spirit was destroyed or merely fled, Dynat was utterly alone, in a wild cold cave with no source of heat. He could kill her when the opportunity arose, but right now Stasia was his only hope for survival.

 He willed his legs to move, but they did not. His arms were too weak to lift. He nudged the little Icer with his chin. “Wake up, Stasia.” Perhaps she could make a shelter. At the least, she could heal his back. He thought the skin must be dead from the cold. Dead. He would be dead soon. He could feel his strength to resist the cold ebbing away.

 Stasia did not stir. Dynat tried again, digging his chin into the top of her head, with no success. He yelled in her ear, convulsed so that her body shook, but nothing woke her. Frustrated by a feeling of helplessness, he lay back and stared up at the vast blue ceiling.

 Far in the distance, a sound rose and grew. It was a low, vibrating sound; it swelled loudly and faded slowly away. It rose and fell, rose and fell, over and over again. Dynat listened, entranced. It sounded like music, a sound made with a purpose, not something natural like the dripping of water or the roar of the lava river.

 The sound meant there were people in this huge cavern. He was going to die if he lay on the ice much longer, and Stasia was still unconscious. People might have heat, might be able to rescue him. Then he would not need Stasia in order to survive. Dynat took a deep breath and screamed at the top of his lungs.

 Stasia did not stir at the sound. Dynat kept shouting and screaming until his throat grew hoarse and his lungs hurt from breathing cold air. When he stopped, he heard the vibrating sound again. Rising, falling, rising, falling. He kept shouting.

 The noise grew perceptibly louder and nearer. Dynat began to hear other noises—loud barking, a scraping sound like hides being dragged over ice, and the high, chattering voices of people. He could not make out any words, even when he heard a shout right above his head. He looked up and saw a hideous creature staring down at him. A long nose like a fat arm protruded from its face. Its forehead bulged over beady black eyes, and long white tusks jutted over its lips, slicing the air above Dynat's nose. He gulped a deep breath to keep from screaming. Then, the face was passing, and Dynat saw its bulky body shuffle close by. It was twice the size of an Icer’s molebear, and its hide bristled with brittle, sparse hairs. It wallowed over the ice with a humping motion on fat, stubby legs that seemed ill-designed to carry its massive weight. On its back, nestled in the crook just behind its head, sat a stout human with a dark face, covered head to toe in tan-colored, shaggy hides. He looked warm.

 “Thank the Fire Spirit,” Dynat gasped. “I’m saved.”

 The man reached down and grasped Dynat’s cloak. He yanked it free and examined it, then draped it over his own shoulders. “Hey!” Dynat yelled. “Stop! Too cold!”

 The man ignored him and lifted Stasia into the air. He settled her across his knees on the back of the beast and raised a hollow tusk to his mouth. The vibrating sound rang out so loud it hurt Dynat’s ears. The creature swung its head back and forth and brayed like a cababar fem in heat. It shuffled on its way, leaving Dynat alone on the ice, exposed to the cold air. He shivered convulsively, shouting at the man, rewarded only by a spray of powder ice from the creature's broad, flat tail.

 Then another ugly nose was snuffling at his face, tusks nearly skewering his eyes. The rider who leaned toward Dynat had softer features and long braids glinting with green gems. Her hides were white as the ice and soft as steam from the baths. And warm. He wanted to bury himself in them. “Please,” he said, shamed to his core to have to beg a human. “Please. I need warmth.”

 She made nonsensical sounds at him, braced herself against her steed with her thighs, and grasped his arm. She pulled him off the ground, huffing from the effort. He let her lay him across the creature's back without struggle. He knew from their clothing that her people needed warmth. They must have a fire somewhere.

 It did not occur to him to wonder if they were friendly.