Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [47]
The stone fell to the ground with a thud, landing next to his foot. It had grown larger in that instant, and was glowing a bright green that cast an eerie lambent light over the snowy embankment and the dark ribbon of stream at its base.
Caelan stared at it, and some of his panic cleared momentarily. The stream ... the gully ... he must be near the ice cave where he and Lea had found the emeralds. While he would rather go to a different one, he had no time to be choosy. Also, it seemed his own stone was trying to help him.
He glanced around and turned north, hurrying along the bottom of the gully, splashing in and out of the shallow stream as he searched.
Minutes later, he found the mouth of the cave, halfway up the side of the slope. He paused there, his hand gripping the edge of the opening, and wondered if he had the courage to enter what must be Lea’s grave.
“Please,” he whispered aloud. “Ice spirits... earth spirits... take pity on me. Let me enter in peace.”
He sniffed for evidence of a lurker that might be using the cave as a den, but smelled nothing. Shouting, he picked up a chunk of ice and hurled it inside.
Nothing came leaping out.
It was safe, except for memories.
Right now, he couldn’t afford those.
He hurried back to where Elandra lay. Half-covered in snow, she hadn’t stirred at all. The emerald, so large now it would have to be carried with two hands, still cast its light over her like a protective shield.
He picked her up and lurched back to the cave, boosting her inside, then climbing in and pulling her deeper into its shelter. Lastly, he went scrambling back for the emerald.
It was too hot to hold. He jerked his fingers away, shaking them, and used the hem of his cloak to gather up the magical stone and carry it to the cave.
The light it cast turned the ice cave into an eerie place of strange angles and shadows. Caelan crawled down the long tunnel leading into the small cavern at the back.
Lea had once played here among the fanciful formations, imagining it to be her palace and assembling her dolls, bark cups, and playthings.
He saw one of the cups now, lying on its side on the ground. Breathlessly he picked it up, only to find it was brittle with age. It crumbled to dust in his fingers.
“Lea,” he whispered and had to choke back tears.
But it was Elandra he must care for now. He built a small fire and stripped off her wet gown to dry. Her cloak remained dry, and he wrapped her in it. A faint glow from inside her jewel pouch caught his attention. He upended it and shook out the topaz it contained. The jewel was glowing with a life of its own. It sent out golden light to mingle with the green coming from the emerald.
Not daring to touch her stone with his bare hands, Caelan used the pouch to pick it up. He placed it in her palm and folded her fingers around it, praying the magic in the topaz would work to counteract the darkness inside her.
She looked so pale, lying there. Her eyes were sunken and smudged with purple shadows. A tiny pulse at her temple told him she still lived. Now and then she frowned and jerked as though in pain. He wanted to cry out each time.
He felt so helpless, so ignorant. Again and again, he was tempted to sever her, but he dared not take the risk. No matter how much he needed to do something, his abilities were not the answer to this problem.
“Dear Gault,” he prayed, “have mercy on this woman. Give her strength to fight the darkness that assails her. Grant me the means with which to save her.”
He watched her while his wet clothes slowly dried over the tiny fire. Melting ice overhead dripped here and there, making him shift positions. Hunger he ignored. Exhaustion he ignored. He had to keep watch, as though by his will alone he could make Elandra better.
Finally he slept, only to awaken with a start deep in the night.
The fire had died out. It was bitterly cold. By the light of the glowing emerald and topaz he rekindled the