The Spell of Rosette - Kim Falconer [110]
Then she noticed the cliff face where the Lupin had swept the snow aside. The solid wall had given way to a dark entrance, silent and empty. Hotha motioned her to enter, wanting her to go first. She was about to protest, but instead closed her mouth and stepped across the threshold into the mountain.
She couldn’t see at all. The darkness penetrated everything, and so did the cold. She felt a pressure on her shoulder, and looked down. A hand latched onto the base of her neck, surprisingly warm through her ice-encrusted coat. She was surprised at how good the contact felt.
‘I won’t let you stumble,’ Hotha said.
The Lupin kept her before him, guiding her from behind. The delicacy of his touch held her steady on the track. His fingers rested gently, warm and strong. It was not what she’d imagined—she knew they could tear flesh if they chose.
The Lupins had no trouble in the dark, their eyes like a cat’s. Rosette, on the other hand, was as though blind and totally dependent on her guide. The ground descended under her feet and the air grew still, a relief from the constant wind above. Before long she felt a warm draught touch her face.
‘Where are we going?’
‘Down.’
She was guided forward, descending along well-used rock steps. She memorised every twist and turn until they had made so many she gave up—there was no way for her to keep track. Her knees went weak and her head started to throb.
‘How much further?’
‘Do you need to rest?’
‘I’m fine.’ She squared her shoulders and carried on.
The undulating descent continued for what seemed like hours and her sight did not adjust to the dark. There was no light, nothing for her eyes to catch. The only thing Rosette was certain of was that they were now in the bowels of the mountain—Kreshkali’s realm, if the witch truly did reign here. It didn’t seem too hospitable. With each step she moved further into a sense of isolation. It was the darkest dark she’d ever experienced and it started to separate her from everything she could remember.
Yet, without sight, her other senses amplified. She could hear every rise and fall of her boots as they tapped their way down the endless steps. She heard the pad of the Lupins’ feet around her. Listening hard, she heard each of their respirations, feeling the soft breath of Hotha as it blew across her cheek.
Then she heard a thought. It was incoherent; gibberish phrases about the sun and the moon and the faraway memory of home and warmth. She couldn’t identify anything more, but she felt compelled to listen. Something in the fragmented voice enthralled her. It was like the voice of madness, curious until she realised it was coming from her own mind.
She lost all concept of distance, of time and space. Everything blurred into a rhythmic stepping, a bombardment of sound, and the unyielding touch of the hand on her shoulder—long fingers pressing into her collarbone, a thumbnail on her scapula, a strange mixture of comfort and coercion.
Then the air changed, like the whoosh of a giant door opening. The ground levelled out and far in the distance she saw something twinkle, like bright yellow stars. She blinked. Finally there was light. An increasing glow illuminated her surroundings and the tunnel expanded until the walls that had pressed on either side of her disappeared altogether.
The chamber was enormous.
There was no time to ponder, though, as the hand tightened on her shoulder, stopping at the brink of causing pain. A warning? Rosette heard a deep guttural answer within her