Revived by the food, the water, and the blessed warmth of the runnel, the people’s despair lifted. Their joy was increased when the king himself seemed suddenly to shake off the dark clouds of madness. He looked around, recognized Edmund, spoke to him coherently, and asked to know where we were. The king obviously remembered nothing of our journey.
The prince, blinking back his tears, showed his father the map and pointed out how close we were to the Lake of Burning Rock and, from there, Kairn Necros.
The king ate well, slept soundly, and spoke no more to his dead wife.
The following cycle, everyone was awake early, packed and eager to go on. For the first time, the people began to believe that there might be a better life awaiting them than the life they had come to know in our homeland.
I kept my fears and my doubts to myself. Perhaps it was a mistake, but how could I take away their newfound hope?
A half of a cycle’s travel brought us near the end of the tunnel. The floor ceased to slope downward and leveled off. The comfortable warmth had intensified to an uncomfortable heat. A red glow, emanating from the Lake of Burning Rock, lit the cavern with a light so bright we doused the torches. We could hear, echoing through the tunnel, a strange sound.
“What is that noise?” Edmund asked, bringing the people to a halt.
“I believe, Your Highness,” I said hesitantly, “that what you are hearing is the sound of gases bubbling up from the depths of the magma.”
He looked eager, excited. I’d seen the same expression on his face when he was small and I had offered to take him on an excursion.
“How far are we from the lake?”
“Not far, I should judge, Your Highness.”
He started off. I laid a restraining hand on his arm.
“Edmund, take care. Our bodies’ magic has activated to protect us from the heat and the poisonous fumes, but our strength is not. We should proceed forward with caution, take our time.
He stopped immediately, looked intently at me. “Why? What is to fear? Tell me, Baltazar.”
He knows me too well. I cannot conceal anything from him.
“My Prince,” I said, drawing him to one side, out of earshot of the people and the king. “I cannot put a name to my fear and, therefore, I am loathe to mention it.”
I spread the map out on a rock. We bent over it together. The people paid little attention to us. I could see the king watching us with suspicion, however, his brow dark and furrowed. “Pretend that we are discussing the route, Your Highness. I don’t want to unduly worry your father.”
Edmund, casting the king a worried glance, did as I requested, wondering in loud tones where we were.
“You see these runes, drawn over this lake on the map?” I said to him in a low voice. “I cannot tell you what they mean, but when I look at them I am filled with dread.”
Edmund stared at the sigla. “You have no idea what they say?” “Their message has been lost in time, My Prince. I cannot decipher it.” “Perhaps they warn only that the way is treacherous.”
“That could be it …”
“But you don’t think so.”
“Edmund,” I said, feeling my face burn with embarrassment,
“I’m not sure what I think. The map itself doesn’t indicate a dangerous route. As you can see, a wide path runs around the shores of the lake. A child could travel it with ease.”
“The path might be cut or blocked by rock falls. We’ve certainly enough of that during our trip,” Edmund stated grimly. “Yes, but the original mapmaker would have indicated such an occurrence if it had happened during the time he was making the . If not, he wouldn’t have known about it. No, if these runes are to warn us of danger, that danger existed when this map was made.”
“But that was so long ago! Surely the danger’s gone by now. You’re like a rune-bone player beset by bad fortune. According to the 3, our luck is bound to change. You worry too much, Baltazar,” ttind added, laughing and clapping me on the shoulder. “I hope so, My Prince,” I replied gravely. “Humor me. Indulge a necromancer’s foolish fears. Proceed with caution. Send the soldiers ahead to scout the area—”