Whyborne
“Be careful!” Griffin called from the rapidly vanishing oval of light above. “If you have any trouble at all, two tugs on the rope and we’ll pull you back up! And if you do find something, for God’s sake, don’t go wandering about!”
I bit back a sigh he wouldn’t have heard anyway, and concentrated on keeping myself from swinging too violently against the side of the moulin. Neither Christine nor I were experienced enough at climbing to attempt to rappel down. As a result, the rest of our party lowered us in slings tied into the ends of the long ropes.
The surface of the ice beneath my mittens was smooth as glass, but rippled and pitted by the water that had carved into the glacier. My lantern revealed fine striations in the ice as it slipped past, each one marking some ancient snowfall.
How deep was this hole? Would we have enough rope? Would it reach the bedrock below, or would it change from a wide entrance to a crevice too narrow to navigate?
“Do you see the bottom yet?” I called down to Christine.
“Not yet, but—oh!”
I tried to twist about to see what was happening, but succeeded only in dashing my shoulder into the hard-packed ice. “Christine! Are you all right? What’s happening?”
“You’ll see!” she called back, but her voice sounded fainter than before. A moment later, I understood why.
The walls of the moulin drew back, the ice no longer around me but above, like the ceiling of some vast cathedral. I held out my lantern. Without anything to brace against, I spun in a slow circle, the light catching off of the ceiling, then some distant wall.
“I’m down!” Christine called, although at this depth no one on the surface could hear. A moment or two later, my feet also thumped lightly on the ground.
Christine had already climbed out of her sling, which lay coiled on the exposed earth—a jumble of gravel and frozen mud, ground down by the passage of the glacier. I hurried to join her.
“How far do you think it goes?” I asked, peering into the gloom.
“Most likely the ice cave reaches all the way to the foot of the glacier.” She began to make her way in the other direction, up the gentle slope. “More moulins must be somewhere above, feeding into the cave.”
“Where are you going?” I hurried after her. “We promised we wouldn’t go far.”
“I’m not. But I’m also not going back to the surface without some idea of what’s down here, umbra or no umbra.”
I kicked at the jumble of small stones, but they were frozen to the earth beneath them. “Anything that used to be here has been scoured away.”
“We already knew that would be the case.” Christine stopped abruptly. “Whyborne—look. There’s an opening.”
We approached cautiously. A large, curiously regular, hole pierced the floor of the glacial cave. Our lantern light fell onto it, revealing what were unmistakably masonry blocks. They appeared to form a ramp, descending to some lower level within the mountain.
“If only we’d brought the camera—curse it,” Christine said. “Do you know what this means, Whyborne? At least part of the city is still here!”
“And presumably it’s the part with the monster sealed inside,” I murmured, but in truth my heart sped with excitement. Griffin didn’t appreciate just how extraordinary this find was, what it meant to human history. From now on everything would be different. All of the books on the rise of civilizations would have to be rewritten. Our very understanding of our species might change.
What secrets did these ancients know? What sorcery? What might I—we—learn from them?
The lantern beams shifted erratically, thanks to our trembling hands. We couldn’t turn back—not yet. We had to see for ourselves that our wildest imaginings were in fact true.
And if the umbra was here, if it was calling to Griffin in some way, we’d just not disturb anything that looked like a magical seal. Simple enough.
The ramp sloped sharply, and we used care to navigate it. Fortunately, it didn’t go far, but instead ended in a large, hexagonal room. Whatever water flowed through during the warmer months must drain deeper, as no ice coated the floor. Reliefs, some badly worn from the action of time and water, covered all five walls. I could make out little of them, except they seemed to show geometric shapes, animals, and plants. The oddly grouped dots, which appeared to be some system of writing, were also present. On the other side of the room, opposite the ramp, a doorway opened on to blackness.
“We’d best return,” Christine said reluctantly. “Iskander will call off the wedding if we explore any farther without him.”
“And Griffin shall wish a divorce for giving him heart palpitations,” I agreed, equally reluctant. Still, if I knew Griffin at all, he would be frantic by now, certain something horrible had happened to us both. I didn’t want to cause him any unnecessary worry. “We have little time left. Tomorrow is the solstice, and it’s already quite late in the day. We need to return to camp, gather whatever gear we need, and come back immediately.”
“Agreed.” Her mouth pursed. “And hope these ruins aren’t so extensive we can’t find these seals of yours before it’s too late.” Then she brightened. “Or perhaps the umbra will prove to be something I can shoot. Then we won’t have to worry about it anymore!”
“Not everything can be shot, Christine.”
“Bah! You’re such a pessimist.” Lowering her lantern, she turned back to the ramp. “Now let’s return, before Griffin and Iskander come down here looking for us.”