The Plains of Passage (Earth's Children 4)

While she was waiting, afraid to move and holding herself very still, she heard faint mutterings and muted rumblings in the deep icy cavern. She thought at first that she imagined them. But the mass of ice was not as solid as it seemed on the hard surface above. It was constantly readjusting, expanding, shifting, sliding. The explosive boom of a new crack opening or closing at some distant point, on the surface or deep within the glacier, sent vibrations through the strangely viscous solid. The great mountain of ice was riddled with catacombs: passages that came to an abrupt halt, long galleries that turned and twisted, dropped off or soared upward; pockets and caves that opened invitingly, then sealed shut.

Ayla began to look around her. The sheer walls of ice glowed with a luminous, unbelievably rich blue light that had a deep undertone of green. With a sudden jolt, she realized she had seen that color before, but in only one other place. Jondalar's eyes were the same rich, stunning blue! She longed to see them again. The fractured planes of the huge ice crystal gave her the sensation of mysterious flitting movement just beyond her peripheral vision. She felt that if she turned her head quickly enough she would see some ephemeral shape disappearing into the mirrored walls.

But it was all illusion, a magician's trick of angles and light. The crystal ice filtered out most of the red spectrum of the light from the burning orb in the sky, leaving the deep blue-green, and the edges and planes of the tinted, mirrored surfaces played games of refraction and reflection with each other.

Ayla glanced up when she felt a shower of snow. She saw Jondalar's head extending beyond the rim of the crevasse, then a length of rope came snaking down toward her.

"Tie the rope around your waist, Ayla," he called, "and make sure you tie it well. Let me know when you're ready."

He was doing it again, Jondalar said to himself. Why did he always recheck what she did when he knew she was more than capable of doing it herself? Why did he tell her to do something that was perfectly obvious? She knew the rope had to be tied securely. That was why she had gotten angry and stomped off ahead and was now in this dangerous predicament ... but she should have known better.

"I'm ready, Jondalar," she called, after wrapping it around her and fastening it with many knots. "These knots won't slip."

"All right. Now hang on to the rope. We're going to pull you up," he said.

Ayla felt the rope grow taut, then lift her from the ledge. Her feet were dangling in air as she felt herself slowly rising toward the edge of the crevasse. She saw Jondalar's face, and his beautiful, worried blue eyes, and she gripped the hand he held out to her to help her over the rim. Then she was on the surface again, and Jondalar was crushing her in his arms. She clung to him as tightly.

"I thought you were gone for sure," he said, kissing and holding her. "I'm sorry I yelled at you, Ayla. I know you can load your own packs. I just worry so much."

"No, it's my fault. I shouldn't have been so careless with my eye protectors, and I should never have rushed ahead of you like that. I'm still not familiar with ice."

"But I let you, and I should have known better."

"I should have known better," Ayla said at the same time. They smiled at each other at the inadvertent matching of words.

Ayla felt a tug at her waist and saw that the other end of the rope was fastened to the brown stallion. Racer had pulled her out of the crevasse. She fumbled to untie the knots around her waist while Jondalar held the sturdy horse close by She finally had to use a knife to cut the rope. She had made so many knots and had pulled them so tight—and they'd grown even tighter as she was lifted out—that they were impossible to untie.

Detouring around the crack that had so nearly proved disastrous, they continued their southwesterly course across the ice. They were growing seriously concerned as their supply of burning stones was becoming depleted.

"How much longer before we reach the other side, Jondalar?" Ayla asked in the morning after melting water for them all. "We don't have many burning stones left."

"I know. I had hoped that we would be there by now. The storms have caused more delay than I planned on, and I'm getting worried that the weather will turn while we are on the ice. It can happen so fast," Jondalar said, scanning the sky carefully as he spoke. "I'm afraid it may be coming soon."

"Why?"

"I got to thinking about that silly argument we had before you fell into the crevasse. Remember how everyone was warning us about the evil spirits that ride ahead of the snow-melter?"

"Yes!" Ayla said. "Solandia and Verdegia said they make you feel irritable, and I was feeling very irritable. I still do. I am so sick and tired of this ice, I have to force myself to keep going. Could that be what it is?"

"That's what I was wondering. Ayla, if it's true, we have to hurry. If the foehn comes while we're up on this glacier, we may all fall into the cracks," Jondalar said.

They tried to ration the peaty brown stones more carefully, drinking their water barely melted. Ayla and Jondalar started carrying their waterbags full of snow underneath their fur parkas so their body heat would melt enough for them and Wolf. But the conservation wasn't enough. Their bodies couldn't melt enough for the horses that way, and when the last of the burning stones were gone, there was no water for the horses. She had run out of feed for them, too, but water was more important. Ayla noticed them chewing ice, but it worried her. Both dehydration and eating ice could chill them so that they wouldn't be able to maintain sufficient body heat to keep warm on the freezing cold glacier.

Both horses had come to her looking for water, after they had set up their tent, but all Ayla could do was give them a few sips of her own water and break up some ice for them. There had been no afternoon storm that day, and they had kept going until it was almost too dark to see. They had traveled a good distance, and should have been glad, but she felt strangely uncomfortable. She had trouble getting to sleep that night. She tried to shrug it off, telling herself she was just worried about the horses.

Jondalar lay awake for a long time, too. He thought the horizon was looking closer, but he was afraid it was wishful thinking and didn't want to mention it. When he finally dozed off, he awoke in the middle of the night to find Ayla wide awake, too. They got up at the first faint shift from black to blue, and they started out with stars still in the sky.

By midmorning the wind had shifted, and Jondalar was sure his worst fears were about to materialize. The wind wasn't so much warm as less cold, but it was coming from the south.

"Hurry, Ayla! We've got to hurry," he said, almost breaking into a run. She nodded and kept up with him.

By noon the sky was clear, and the brisk breeze blowing in their faces was so warm that it was almost balmy. The force of the wind increased, enough to slow them down as they leaned into it. And its warmth blowing across the cold surface of the ice was a deadly caress. The drifts of dry powdery snow became wet and compact, then turned to slush. Little puddles of water began t

o form in small depressions on the surface. They became deeper and took on a vivid blue color that seemed to glow out of the center of the ice, but the woman and man had no time, or heart, to appreciate the beauty. The horses' need for water was easily satisfied, but it gave them little comfort now.

A soft mist began to rise, clinging close to the surface; the driving, warm south wind carried it away before it could get too high. Jondalar was using a long spear to feel the way ahead, but he was still almost running, and Ayla was hard-pressed to keep up. She wished she could jump on Whinney's back and let the horse carry her away, but more and more cracks were opening in the ice. He was almost certain the horizon was closer, but the low-lying fog made distances deceptive.

Little rivulets began streaming over the surface of the ice, connecting the puddles and making footing treacherous. They splashed through the water, feeling its icy chill penetrate, then squish through their boots. Suddenly, a few feet in front of them, a large section of what had seemed to be solid ice fell away, exposing a yawning gulf. Wolf yipped and whined, and the horses shied away, squealing with fear. Jondalar turned and followed the edge of the crack, looking for a way around.