A novel by Meredith Skye

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The wind whipped Morrhan's hat around furiously. Cloth covered his whole face with barely an opening for his eyes. He was blind, between the sand and wind and the small slit he had to look out from. Fortunately, the yithhe had a double eyelid that helped shield their eyes against sandstorms. Morrhan wished he had such eyes.

By nightfall, they had reached the Dead Knolls, a place that hundreds of years ago was a forest. They were still a few days from the Upper Steppes.

The whole day the wind had blown terribly. Morrhan's wounds still hurt but he said nothing to his father, not wanting to be thought weak. Mirrhia had cleaned the wound; she said it would heal in time.

Nor did Morrhan want his father to think that he was trying to curry his favor by pointing out how he'd defended Rollech. His father ignored him now. And when his gaze happened to come Morrhan's way, it was an unfriendly glare.

Nothing Morrhan ever did was right, and all the accomplishments in the world, short of dying in battle, would not please his father. Morrhan chided himself for his self-pity.

Morrhan felt disappointed that the wind made it impossible to see. The Dead Knolls was a famous place. Once covered with trees, now all that remained were miles of charred stumps. He'd never heard why it happened. He couldn't blame it on it the Chanden; this was before their time. Since that desolation, nothing had ever grown back. The Dead Knolls was a cursed place.

A signal came back from the front of the line. They'd found shelter; for that Morrhan was grateful. Soon they made their way down a slope into a lava cave. Morrhan stayed in the upper cave to see to the animals as the others came in, relieved finally to be out of the sand and in a place that felt at least remotely like home.

Food was getting low for the yithhe. There'd been nothing to graze on all day, and the grain was in low supply. Morrhan had little water left and he feared that this storm might make it difficult to find more. There could be some stored here in the caves. Sometimes such caves were kept stocked with survival food and water. But these caves were very old and had not been used in a long while, if ever.

Once Morrhan finished tending to the animals, he went on down to find the others. He had no light and so had to find his way in the dark, but Garrans were used to finding their way in lava caves in the dark. Morrhan had grown up in such a place, and had no fear of it. He could hear the group farther ahead and could tell he was getting closer.

The passage then took a turn downward and before long the voices of his clan grew more distant. Morrhan realized he'd taken a wrong turn. He started back up but must have ended up in a side passage because this one, after a while, also started to go down. He stopped, confused. The air was warmer down here, almost uncomfortably warm. Warm and very dry.

Morrhan turned and made his way back, trying to find the original tunnel. But soon he found himself going down again. He did not often get lost this way, not even in a strange cave. He cursed and turned back. The sound of his clansmen were gone now.

Morrhan was lost.

Frustrated Morrhan turned and tried to retrace his steps, without success. Soon, he saw a faint glow ahead. Hoping it was the heat-well of his clan, Morrhan headed for it. At least it was light. The path he followed began to lead downward and the glow got brighter and the air warmer. Morrhan paused, doubting this was the right path, but he wanted to see the end of it. He felt that something was near down below.

The path went farther than he had guessed, making Morrhan nervous. He was already lost. If he went too deep into a lava cave, he could be lost for days. Yet the glow got brighter still and he could see the end of the path up ahead. Perhaps he could get his bearings somehow.

Morrhan arrived at the bottom, astonished to see a lake of brimstone. The heat was scorching. Morrhan had never seen a lake such as this. The caves they used on the plains had been dead for hundreds of years. But the Northern Cones were not dead. This lake seethed with fire, as though it could erupt at any time.

Throughout the cavern occasional rumblings warned of danger. This place looked as though the lava pool used to be smaller or not there at all. This lava lake had grown and there was no telling how quickly the lava had come up this far. Down below, Morrhan saw another path that led right down into the brimstone.

The path Morrhan led over a bridge that climbed upward, then over the lake to a small cavern above. Morrhan stood there looking at the lake. He should head back to his clan; this was not a safe place to stay—the whole cave was dangerous. Yet he didn't know the way back. Up ahead, he could see something shining in the upper cavern. Could it be a way out?

With a sudden decision, Morrhan ran up the bridge towards the cavern. He stopped when he felt the blast of heat from below—then he started running. The heat was nearly unbearable. Finally he reached the top and ran inside the cavern. The heat vanished once he was inside and fell back to just being uncomfortably hot.

Strange moonstones along the walls lit this cavern. An altar, ringed by moonstones, dominated the far side of the room. Each stone was carved with ancient symbols, none of which Morrhan could read. On the altar lay a flat stone with more unfamiliar runes on it. Morrhan stared at it.

Whatever this was—it was important. It looked like a god-thing, a god-tablet of some kind. Surely this was valuable and something not to be left in a lava cave which could overflow. But Morrhan was no priest and didn't know the rituals or ways of the gods. He should take it back to his father. If it was important, perhaps it could help Ashtan.

A rumbling from below brought Morrhan out of his thoughts. He was sure the lake was growing. Morrhan hesitated in front of the tablet, muttered a quick prayer to the gods for forgiveness, and took the tablet.

After a deep breath, Morrhan ran back down the bridge hoping to find the tunnel leading out. He ran quickly down the ramp, through the searing heat, then stopped suddenly after a loud rumble. The bottom of the ramp was already covered in lava. The way was cut off. He turned and ran back up to the god-cavern.

Now Morrhan panicked. He couldn't escape. Perhaps it was the anger of the gods. He put the god-tablet back and prayed an apology. But he didn't know the ways of the gods—or whether his prayers would be heard. Only priests knew how to pray properly.

Soon the lava would enter this cavern, if not within the hour, surely within the a day. He took a deep breath and calmed himself. Maybe there was another way out.

Morrhan began searching this cavern. The edges were dark and perhaps there was a passage he had not seen. Soon he found one. It had a gentle upward slope. That was good enough. He made sure that there were no other passages—this was the only one. Hoping it was a way out, he started up it. Again he heard a loud rumble. He feared that the lava would follow before long.

Then he remembered the tablet. Should he bring it? Otherwise, it would be consumed by the fire. Surely that wasn't the will of the gods. Or had he offended them by touching the stone in the first place? But the lava had already formed a lake before he'd ventured in. Perhaps he could save the tablet and please the gods by it. Morrhan turned back and ran into the chamber.

The heat had intensified. The lava grew closer. Morrhan grabbed the tablet and ran back up the passage, tucking it in his pack. For a long time he ran, stumbling in the dark, turning corners and winding upward. But there were no other passages that he could detect. Eventually the heat lessened and he no longer heard the rumbling. Were the gods pleased with him or had he just gotten ahead of the disaster?

For an hour, Morrhan made his way through the dark tunnel before finding himself back outside in the sandstorm. He wasn't sure how long he searched through the blinding storm to find the entrance to the caves again. A cousin greeted him and showed him the way down to the clan.

When Morrhan arrived, he found them all sleeping, except for the watch. Morrhan quickly found his father and woke him. "Father," he began.

"Morrhan?" asked Ashtan, shaking himself awake. "Where have you been?"

"I took a wrong turn down a passage that led underground."

"Lost in a lava cave? At your age?"

"Father, this cave is active. There is brimstone fire in it, rising even now."

"What? Nonsense. Perhaps you are mistaken."

Ashtan didn't bother to lower his voice now waking the others. Ashtan began to rise. Morrhan stood with him.

"No, this cave is active, I tell you. I saw it—a lake of fire and terrible rumblings. I found a god-cavern and—"

"You entered a god-cavern?"

"Yes, it was—"

Ashtan slapped him. "You fool! Is there no end to your stupidity?"

Morrhan stared at his father in surprise. "I meant no harm but—"

"You meant no harm? These are not matters to trifle with! You are not shaheak!"

Morrhan shook his head. "I am sorry, Father." Morrhan felt terrible guilt and shame for taking the god-tablet—but he feared to mention this to his father, so he kept silent.

"The gods take no apologies," quipped his father, looking around the cave.

"The fire rises," said Morrhan. They had to get out.

"I know." Still his father looked hesitant. "This was our best shelter. This wrath is your doing, Morrhan." His father walked past him and began waking the others, urging them to pack up to leave.

Morrhan stood there a long while, watching. He felt guilty for getting lost; guilty for entering the cavern; and guilty for the lie he just told his father by not mentioning the god-tablet. Could he take it back? No, surely the lava would have covered it by now. He doubted he could even find the opening in this storm. There was no hope—only the small hope that the gods would not be as angry as they thought.

As the others left, Morrhan followed them.

They searched for a new place to camp but with the storm made that difficult. They had to get to higher ground, in case of an eruption of fire; near the Dead Knolls, the brimstone could easily overflow. They traveled for hours through the night before the storm let up enough that they found partial shelter under a cliff rock.

Everyone was downcast and in an irritable mood, their anger aimed at Morrhan, as though he had caused the lake of fire to rise. Perhaps he had. He was too tired to think anymore. Soon he fell asleep in the little bit of shelter they found.

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