The Lost Stone of SkyCity by HM Waugh

Author:HM Waugh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fremantle Press
Published: 2019-12-16T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

I can’t believe I forgot the first rule of mountain life: always take your cloak.

It isn’t long till I’m shivering so hard my teeth chatter. Every corridor looks the same. I’ve gone back up the stairs, but now I’m not sure they were even the same stairs as those I came down. Wherever I am, I don’t know where my room is. I don’t even think I’d recognise the door if I did fluke walking past it.

Greenstone gathers a gloom about it in the night. It’s creepy. I realise I’m lost and alone and freezing to death. Some Protector.

I can’t help mocking myself. I’m a complete fraud. I’ve held my ‘Danam’s Aunty’ status about me like a mantle of honour, I’ve taken it so seriously, presumed I knew best. I’ve been as bad as Uncle, may his soul fly the mountains peacefully. I can’t even keep myself safe.

I turn another corner and meet another long corridor. Where is everyone? Why haven’t I met a single person? How can these corridors be so bitterly cold? I feel the chill enter my bones like a curse. My body is shuddering, my mind screaming the danger. In cold like this a person can succumb in under fifteen minutes. I’ve been wandering now for … how long? Five? Ten? My teeth are chattering hard, my vision blurring. I need to warm up. Fast.

I force my frozen mind to think. I have two options – make a ball of warmth like some sort of snow wizard, or start to randomly open doors and hope I find someone who can help me. Because I’m not accepting Option 3 – Freezing To Death.

I choose Option 2. If I can’t find help soon, I can resort to the dangerous magicland of Option 1.

The first door I try is locked – I knock but there is no response. The second door opens when I try it. I swing it hesitantly to reveal a room with a spindly chair, otherwise empty, smothered in dust and lit only by stars. It’s even colder than the corridor. I shut the door, wincing at the frosty handle on the exposed skin of my hands.

Checking the next three doors reveals more of the same. I must be in a wing of the palace that’s not generally used. My mind is slowing, I need to warm up. If someone sees my ball of warmth, I’m actually going to be glad about that.

I choose an empty chamber, collapse against the stone wall and feel the cold drain from me into the rock. I focus on a fire ball. I imagine it forming, feel it come to life in my hands, feel the warmth come flooding back as it heats the tiny space. It takes three goes to get an actual ball forming. I’m so cold I can’t concentrate well enough on it. And I huddle over the ball, shuddering so violently I burn my hands a few times. As the warmth begins to creep inside me, I use the energy it gives to channel more into the ball.

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