Dreamwalker's Bride - Chapter 392

Chapter 392: Bitter cold
For two days, they continued walking through the mountains, and taking shelter in the cliffs at night. Three times, Ford masked their presence as large creatures came close enough to spot them.

It was becoming easier. Without all the horses, and since the people stayed close together, Ford found he was more capable of effectively shielding them.

Anaisa was becoming visibly anxious, unlike most of the journey where she had maintained a composure of even calm and steady confidence.

Ford wondered how much of her bearing was for her son’s benefit this whole time, and how much was beginning to crack as they got so close to their goal.

On the third day, Martin walked directly toward the side of a mountain and frowned at it.

“I think this is the spot,” He mumbled. “I sealed it when I left so nothing could follow me out. Gets more dangerous from here on.”

“We’re headed into the depths, then?” Ford took a deep breath, and Mia tensed beside him.

“Get ready. I don’t know what’s still down there, what’s moved on, and what’s joined the rest.” Martin warned.

“You’re sure it was this wall?” She queried, and Martin frowned at her.

“What makes you ask?” He asked suspiciously.

“You didn’t seem certain,” Mia pointed out. “What about that wall, over there?”

The whole group glanced over. They were on a wide sort of hill leading up to a concave rock face, and Mia was pointing at another area further in.

“Are you just saying things to make me doubt myself?” Martin looked at her, “or do you know what you’re talking about? Why that wall?”

“Does it look more familiar than this one?” Ford tilted his head curiously. Mia must be looking for the place Martin left before, if he knew her well.

“Hmph.” The old miner marched over and examined the new place, then stared at Mia with renewed wariness. “Been holding out on me, there?”

“It’s not a very outwardly useful gift,” Mia told him humbly. “I can sometimes find what I’m looking for.”

“So you don’t need me to lead you on this quest after all, I’m just here for the fun of it?” Martin threw a sharp look around the group at the others.

“I can’t dig my way in.” Mia said with a small shrug.

“And Trace told us–told me–to find you.” Ford added.

“Hmph.” Martin said again. “Any other secrets we got to pass around, before we go down to a place where maybe not all of us will come back from?”

“You mustn’t speak like that,” Anaisa chided. “It’s terrible luck.”

“Might as well have said ‘If I die, take care of my stuff,'” Grandpa added, shaking his head. “It’s a surefire way to make something terrible happen.”

“Ha!” Ford let out the single bark of a laugh before catching himself.

The words had echoed all too closely the last few words Martin had said to him before being presumed dead the last time, except that the man wasn’t married and had told him to burn something, not take care of it.

The principle of not anticipating one’s own death held true despite the slight disparity in what one concerned themselves with.

Martin glared at the younger man. “I’m fine, all right? Saying it before didn’t result in my death–”

“Everyone thought it did,” Ford smirked lightly.

“Regardless, I’m fine, and luck is imaginary. Don’t believe those mining superstitions all Foundrel kids are raised on. They’re all nonsense.”

Ford wasn’t entirely sure about that. Magic was certainly real, why couldn’t the superstitions be as well?

“The superstitions had a fair amount to say about wights,” Ford retorted. “I suppose you think that’s all nonsense.”

“Most miners think they were ghosts. Dumb as the rocks they break up.” Martin scoffed lightly. “Don’t listen to any of them.”

“Unless this discussion will yield some results I don’t anticipate, maybe we should get going,” Grandpa interrupted.

“You’re right, let’s go.” Martin turned away and took a deep breath, laying his hand on the wall. “Anyone got any last minute magic to use to protect us?”

“You think the danger will be immediate?” Anaisa’s voice was steady, but wary.

“Never can tell,” Martin shrugged.

“No insects in this snow to control, besides a few snow fleas, which aren’t a lot of use,” Grandpa sighed. Ford noticed that though he wore his pack on his back, he had transferred the bag of red blooms to one hand.

A wise but sobering precaution, if Martin was right.

The rock-mover pushed his palm against the rock and it began to give way, opening into a hole that the humans could walk into. Ford crinkled his nose at the showiness of it; Martin had demonstrated repeatedly that he need not be touching the rock to manipulate it.

Thought, perhaps touching it helped him sense something within, like the way he had found Mia and Ford when they were hiding.

“Let’s go.”

The group fell silent and crept into the dark. Outside of the howling wind, the torch and lamp were lit. The group saw nothing worrisome, but remained tense all the same, walking through the tunnel Martin had previously sealed after his escape.

The human-sized tunnel went on for a hundred steps, two hundred, three hundred. Ford began to grow weary of counting.

Mia seemed to grow weary of walking, next to him. Her hand was cold in his, and he wished that he had an easy way to keep her warm. At least they were out of the wind.

There were no words, and their footsteps were as quiet as possible. The absence of sound was almost eerie, since Martin had anticipated the possibility of immediate attack.

To Ford, it felt like the calm before the storm. The air itself seemed charged with energy, and he took slow, deep breaths to try to calm his heart rate.

Before them, a massive tunnel had opened, reminding him keenly of the tube through which the dragons had carried the wights, the tree, and two men when they departed the cavern, which now seemed like ages ago.

They were about midway up, looking down into the curve, and Martin wrinkled his nose in distaste.

“Here comes the hard part.”