Page 60 of Sightwitch
After a sympathetic cluck in Captain’s direction, the Rook obeyed. A flap, a swoop, and his weight bore down on my forearm. Then hop, hop, hop he reached my shoulder.
“Will I see you again?” Captain asked, and I made the mistake of meeting his gaze. Of taking in his face.
“Wounded” is the only word I can think of to describe it. His ribs bowed in, out, each breath short and rasping.
All while snowflakes danced around his head.
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.
“I could wait for you.” His eyebrows crooked up in earnest. “Then we could leave this place together.”
I shook my head, a single curt movement. “I’m not sure I’ll be coming back, Captain. I …” I glanced at the Rook. Then at my toes. Anywhere to avoid meeting his sad, sad eyes. “I’m not sure what I’ll find inside here or how long it will take me. You should leave, while you have the chance.”
Then, because I had no choice, I turned away from him. “I’m sorry, Captain. I have to go now.”
“Oh.” The word was more sigh than tangible sound, and a whip of cold air kissed my shoulders as I strode away.
“Good-bye,” I said, and I did not look back.
When I reached the ice, I bent low. A dip of my torso, a slouch of my spine, and I ducked into the ice.
The last thing I heard before the passage swerved left and the ice swallowed me entirely was a gentle, “Thank you for saving me, Ryber Fortiza, and I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
Navigating the ice took all my concentration and all my flexibility. The path leaned and dipped, warped and contorted.
Within ten paces, the Rook had to abandon his spot on my shoulder and hop his way through. Another twenty paces, and the ice narrowed so tightly I had to squirm sideways, suck in my stomach, and shimmy onward.
The black shapes hovered, unmissable with my gaze aimed straight into the ice, and I had the strangest sense that the black lines tendriling outward were reaching for me.
Fortunately, the squeeze lasted only fifteen sideways steps. Then I popped into a room of such crystal perfection I could do nothing but stare for several long, shivering heartbeats.
The ice spun upward like a snail’s spiral, and a pathway, smooth as glass, arched around the edge. Every few paces, an ice-clogged door honeycombed into the ice.
A crack erupted behind me. I jolted around, certain the ice had somehow moved. Certain the passage had collapsed behind me.
But it was just the Rook, shaking loose from the ice and clacking his displeasure. A frosty moment later, he resumed his perch atop my shoulder—and I resumed my journey forward.
Though Ididwonder how the Rook had managed to make so much noise.
I quickly forgot my confusion. Up my feet carried me, careful at first in case the ice was slick. All was fine, though, and within one loop, I was running.
Then sprinting flat out. My arms swung, and I pumped my knees higher, faster. Around, around. Up, up.
My exhales came in sharp, cloudy gasps, and the Rook’s talons dug deep to hold on. It hurt. I didn’t care. I was too close to care about anything except slamming my feet, one foot after the next.
Had the Rook not stabbed his beak into my ear and screeched, I would never have noticed the gap in the ice. It was an open door.
I skidded to a stop, hand slinging out to wrench me back the other way.
My shredded palm tore anew.
“This … way?” I panted, and at the Rook’s acknowledging purr, I shoved inside.
Except it wasn’t the right way at all. I had entered a tiny cube room, where two shadows floated in the ice directly before me. Small shadows. Child-size.
Then, gouged out of the walls on either side of me were two holes, each my height and deep enough to hold me.
Before I could ask the Rook why we were here, he bounded off my shoulder with a squawk and landed beside a tattered book and a hand-size gold leather pouch.
