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Within moments, Wodred has the crystal fragment in his palm. It begins to glow with gentle light, illuminating the cavern we are in. I can see my runestones on the floor, waiting to be read. I pick them up again and gently shake them, humming the frequency of the universe to activate them. I consider what I should ask first, and decide that I need to know about our companions. Dame Zera is my friend, and she was trying to protect me when the avalanche fell. I would mourn if she were gone.

Dropping the stones, they land with a dull thump on the dirt and stone of the ground. I read their meaning and sigh in relief.

“What is it?” Wodred asks. “What do they say?”

“Dame Zera and Gunag are alive,” I tell him. “As is your warbeast. Miraculously, the avalanche claimed no lives.”

“That is good news indeed,” Wodred acknowledges above me. “Do you know where they are?”

I shake my head. “I can just tell you that they are alive. Gunag appears to be injured, as the stone representing him is on its side, but I do not get the feeling that it is a fatal wound. They will be all right.”

“Then they are in better shape than we are, since we are trapped,” Wodred says wryly.

“We will not be for long,” I say, picking up the stones again and gently shaking them. “I just need to find our way out.”

I ask the stones if there truly is another way out through the mines. The answer comes back as a resounding yes. The next question about noxious gases is equally encouraging, as the stone assures me the air is clear down here. But when I ask if there is anything living in these tunnels, the answer is less clear and makes me nervous. It is the runestone equivalent to being told perhaps.

“There could be something living down here,” I tell Wodred as I gather up the runestones and put them back into their pouch.

“What does that mean?” asks Wodred, sounding tense and worried. “Could be?”

“The stones are being frustrating on this point. They won’t give a clear yes or no. I don’t know what that means, but we should be prepared for anything.”

“All right,” Wodred says. “We should be cautious and make as little noise as possible, so we don’t bring attention to ourselves from whatever could be down here.”

“That would be wise,” I agree. “But there is something else that is bothering me.”

“What is that?”

“How will we move through the tunnels if we only have one heat charm?” I ask. “It is too cold for us to separate.”

“That is easy,” Wodred replies. “I will carry you.”

“Carry me?” I repeat incredulously. “Through the whole mine? I am not light.”

“You underestimate orcish training,” Wodred says seriously. “I have carried packs heavier than you for days-long marches through the scorching desert. This will be easy compared to that.”

I want to argue, but cannot. Try though I might, I cannot think of another solution. It’s freezing cold and we only have one charm.

“Very well,” I acquiesce. “Hopefully it will get warmer the further into the mountain we get, so you can get some rest later on.”

“I do not require rest,” Wodred says. “I only require you to be safe.”

My stomach erupts in nervous butterflies at those words. Something like longing courses through my veins. Does he mean that as my guard and a friend? Or something more? Do I want it to be something more? I do not know. At the beginning of our journey I did not think so, but now? After all we have been through? Something has changed and I feel an emotion akin to nervous excitement when I think that Wodred might care for me.

But we are in a dangerous situation right now, and he has not said anything about tender feelings for me. He could truly just be a devoted friend. I cannot know for certain, and right now is not the time to speak of it.

Instead, I say, “You are not an immortal creature, Wodred. Everyone needs rest.”

“I have more bloodroot if I need it,” the orc says stubbornly.

“You took bloodroot just last night,” I retort sternly. “You shouldn’t take it too frequently. It is bad for your heart.”

“That is a risk I must take if it means getting us deep enough into the mine that the imps cannot find us,” Wodred replies grimly. “We need to go. Now.”

At the reminder of the imps, I stop arguing. We need to at least get away from the entrance and soon. The storm was stopping when I mind-shared with Grazrath. He’ll be able to send his imps to start digging any time now.

Placing my arms around Wodred’s neck to help distribute my weight, I say, “All right, I’m ready.”

“Good,” Wodred responds. “You hold the lumen fragment, then, so we can see where we are going.”

The orc passes me the fragment, and I take it in my left hand, my right arm still around his shoulder and neck. I hold the crystal fragment in my palm and lift it forward. Then, in one fluid movement, Wodred stands up, effortlessly carrying me in his arms.

“Whatever happens,” he says severely, “focus on getting to safety. Hide if you have to. Do not worry about me.”

A chill runs down my spine at those words, reminding me of our dire circumstances. Danger is all around us, and neither of us is guaranteed safety.

I just nod at Wodred’s instruction, seeing his dark eyes search my face, as if he’s trying to see that I understand the gravity of the situation. Whatever he sees must satisfy him, because he nods back.

“Then let’s be off,” he says and steps forward, carrying us deeper into the darkness and toward whatever is awaiting us under the mountain.