Soul Fire

Soul Fire - Chapter 16

The trek to the Cerdic meeting place was a constant struggle against an icy hell. The wind and cold conjured a wall, one ranged against the men who dared to fight the furious elements. Each step forward marked an accomplishment and every few dozen paces a miracle. 

To Gergan and their Cerdic guards, this journey was as normal as a ride through the plains for the Asillians. The Cerds respectfully abandoned their sleds to walk with the Asillians though would not be separated from their wolves. Chains hung slack from their wrists, bonding man and beast. The Cerds did not allow the links to pull taut. They would not allow any aid, no matter how small, when it came to their slog through the snow.

Their world became ever smaller, encasing them in a cocoon of ice and sleet. Dathion's eyes frequently turned to Malithas, with Ellishan momentarily forgotten. His instructor toiled bravely without regard for his pain. Dathion likened it to an old wolf hiding their wounds to conceal weakness from the pack. Regardless, occasional winces were evident, a reminder of Malithas's lingering fragility.

The recent struggles were not wasted on the boys. Muscles unaccustomed to hard work had grown and strengthened over the course of their mountain trek. Dathion could not imagine the pain and fatigue he would have felt, even a week ago, from exertion such as this. His body amazed him with its ability to adapt to adversity.

Their progress wasn't the only thing slowed by the cold. Time crawled in their featureless realm of pristine, white snow and gray, spectral shapes. With the end of the day approaching, the glow of sunlight illuminating the clouds had dimmed but not yet vanished, when, just as nightfall was imminent, the space before them filled with a silhouette which swelled to an imposing size as they neared. Finally, the growing gray gave way to black and a cave engulfed them.

Once they had entered, the rock walls sheltered them from the snowdrifts, and the mists only seeped a small distance inside the entrance. With their sight now clear, they could vaguely discern a twisting tunnel before them. The intoxicating smell of pitch wafted to Dathion's thawing nose causing him to sniff the air. The Cerds fumbled in the dark, seeking the source, moving and feeling along the walls at the side of the passage. The scratching of flint set fire to tinder, which in turn ignited torches. From the blossoming light, Dathion could see that the tunnel did not stretch far before opening into a larger void. Into this space the Cerds disappeared, then lit more torches spaced around the perimeter. This revealed an enormous cavern.

The space extended at least fifty paces across. The light lacked the strength to reach the center of the vast chamber from the walls, such was its size. Instead, in the center sat four giant braziers filled with coal, pitch, and wood. Four of the Cerds tossed their torches into these vessels, then quickly jumped back. A tower of flames erupted from each one, drenching the area with blazing light and heat. Between the braziers, massive stone benches formed a loose circle surrounding a huge firepit. Stretching from one side of the pit to the other rested a long, iron bar. It had been hoisted to lie between two poles, with handled wheels at each end. Dathion dared not estimate the weight of the rod or how it had been lifted into place. Blackened patches of old fat stains identified the pole as a huge spit, one able to manage a number of goats, or other beasts, lined end-to-end along its length.  

Piled against the walls rested stacks of wood, some limbs thicker than the girth of a man. The cavern was well stocked, a curiosity considering its location a day's torturous march from the High Bluffs. To the disappointment of the boys, it did not appear that the fire pit would be used on this occasion. Indeed, the Cerds had already retired to the stone benches with their wolves at their feet, except for four men who waited patiently by Gergan's side.

Once Gergan finished adjusting some contents in bags worn at his hips, the five Cerds moved to the far end of the cavern. Here they lit a final set of torches, revealing an altar and several small, stone basins. Patches of dried color stained the vessels, which still held the remnants of stone dust and small bits of dried plants. Dathion soon discovered that these same ingredients filled the pouches at the waists of the Cerds. Pinching small amounts into the receptacles, they added water from leather skins that had been filled with melted snow. To Dathion's surprise, each mixture became a paste of a different color, like paints back at the palace. Red, green, brown, orange and blue were the five colors, one for each Cerd and vessel.