The Windcaster [Fantasy/Adventure | Featured | Complete ]

Chapter 51: White Abyss

The princess of Gwent snapped into action.

"Nabu, go warn the other advisors. Call all the able-bodied people you can and prepare against the storm at once." The middle-aged advisor nodded curtly and swept into the dining hall. "Tiamat, come with me."

"What are we to do?" Tia said, half-running to keep up with the stocky girl as she marched with her strong legs in the opposite direction to Nabu, her staff bumping on her back along the way.

"What we can." Sarpanit grimaced. The girls sprinted down the broad corridor. The oil lamp in the princess's hand swung precariously with each step, throwing violent shadows onto the stone walls.

The cold air numbed Tia's nose, clogging it up, and her lungs started burning. It was lucky that her companion knew the Old Palace well. In the dark, the geography of the buildings seemed foreign and the flickering shadows ominous. The sounds of their panting echoed. Tia's heart thumped at the same tempo as the thud-thud-thud of their boots. She mentally kicked herself again. What a failure of a Windcaster she was, to have missed several days' warnings of a snowstorm!

She sneaked a look at the other girl. Sarpanit's features were grim. Her deep blue eyes were fixed ahead; the flailing lamp bathed her eye sockets in shadows. Her head scarf had fallen off in their rush and her red-brown hair had begun to fall out of the neat bun. Despite her short stature and thickset limbs, her endurance far outstripped Tia's, who was soon gasping for breath.

Beyond the wide corridors and past the herb garden, they emerged at the top of the hill. The stone archways bent in opposite directions on either side of them, swallowed by the darkness of the night. Stars were nowhere to be seen, enveloped by the thick black clouds overhead. Without the insulation of the high walls, Tia could hear the tinkling noises, like shattering glass, within the pulsing power in the Wind.

The thick white snow stretched into the night; the light did very little to illuminate their path. The wind picked up as they descended.

"Papa!" yelled Sarpanit. She turned her head left and right. "Papa!"

"Sarpanit!" Lahar's voice came from an undeterminable direction. The Wind was altering its path every second, scattering the sounds. Tia could feel the increasing power and her panic heightened. She tugged at the other girl's sleeve, her heart thumping.

"Hurry!" Tia whispered.

Lahar came running up the hill, panting. His face slowly came into sight, the dim light emphasising the deep wrinkles on his face and his cheeks, which were red with the cold. His daughter quickly relayed the message from Colchain and Tia's forecasting. She saw the king's features darken and his mouth set in a straight line.

"Is Nabu coming with help?"

"Yes. He's on his way!"

"Good." The king's sharp and serious demeanour was a far cry from the jolly, affectionate old man Tia had first met. He barked out orders in rapid succession. "Sarpanit: start gathering men to bring the snow guards out. You know where they need to be. Tiamat: I need you to pass the message onto everybody along the path. They all know what to do. Be sure to come back and help Nabu and the others when you're done."

"Should we not be gathering everyone and hide from the storm?" Tia said, taken aback as Sarpanit raced ahead.

"If that path is compromised, we're all going to die from thirst."

She bit back further questions as the man turned, shouting out further orders to the others. Taking the oil lamp proffered, she set off. The lamp gave her little advantage in the night; white blobs darted in and out of her visual field and the increasing velocity of the wind kept threatening to blow the flame out. She wobbled, the thick snow sucking out most of the energy she put into her strides. Most of the effort she put in making progress was wasted in her slipping and sliding.