Sweat poured from Taera's forehead. She focused on the ball of energy she had envisioned in the core of her chest and tried to move it to her fingertips, but still nothing happened. No flames, no sparks, nothing.

"Stop," Roanna said, irritated. "You're trying too hard."

Taera relaxed her body with a sigh and opened her eyes wearily. She sat cross-legged on a wooden pallet facing Roanna in a small chamber deep inside the mountains. The chamber was small—no more than fifteen feet from one cold stone wall to the other—and dimly lit. Only a lantern in the corner behind Roanna provided any light; there were no windows, of course, only a metal-banded door of rough-hewn softwood planks. On a metal tray between Taera and Roanna was a small pile of pellets: the same peat pellets used to fuel the airship.

"All you need is the tiniest of sparks to start," Roanna explained again. "From there, you project it toward the peat and let that be the fuel for the flames. You are merely providing the trigger. If you keep trying to hurl your entire body energy through your fingertips, you're going to exhaust yourself, or worse, die."

Taera said nothing. She was already beyond exhausted and convinced she could do nothing Roanna asked of her. On the day they arrived at the caverns, Kadar had met with Taera privately—asking her questions, making her perform small tests of mind and body, and physically examining her in a way that made her skin crawl. When it had all been done, Kadar looked disappointed and sent her away without a word. For the three days since that meeting, Taera had been awoken early to work with Roanna on an assortment of exercises: everything from forced trances to trying to start flames at her fingertips, to predicting the future of an assortment of fur clad northmen Roanna paraded before her. Taera had failed at every task. Even her ability as a seer failed her. Still, Taera's biggest worry was keeping everyone's attention on her and away from Makarria. Taera had no idea what Roanna and Kadar were capable of, but she knew if they learned of Makarria's abilities—and what she were truly capable of—they would take her away and subject her to something worse than what Taera was going through.

"Watch me again," Roanna said. "And not just with your eyes. Open up the rest of your senses and feel what I'm doing."

Roanna held her arms out in front of her, palms up. "Sense how I force the heat of my body from my core to my fingers." Slowly, energy accumulated at her fingertips until light crackled from them like tiny sparks of static electricity. "And then the projection, the release." She lowered her hands slightly, and the pellets on the tray took flame. "It is quite simple."

Taera shook her head. "I'm sorry. I see the fire at your fingers and then the pellets burning, but I sense nothing else."

"We're done for the day then," Roanna said, lurching to her feet. "You may go back to your quarters." Roanna went to the door and held it open for Taera to leave.

Taera stood and moved sullenly from the chamber into the main cavern. The main cavern was vast, stretching for unknown miles at the base of the icy crag in the mountain they had seen from outside. Along one wall of the crag, a series of chambers were carved into the rock face, including the one Taera had just exited. Along the opposite wall of the crag was the very glacier which had cleft the mountain and created the crag. It was a curious glacier, a great slab of ice like a blade between the living rock, hanging down into the cavern with a series of dripping stalactites to feed an underground stream that flowed into the lake outside. Its most curious feature, however, was that the glacier stretched unimpeded from the cavern to the very surface of the mountainside, thereby providing a pathway for the daylight to illuminate the cavern. It was by no means bright, and the hue of the light was a dreary blue-gray, but it was still far better than a cavern illuminated only by sputtering torches, and it provided a gauge for the passing of time along with the rise and fall of the sun each day.

Taera had at first been awestruck by the cavern—it far surpassed the visions of it she had seen back in Kal Pyrthin—but now she gave it not a second glance. Rather, she shuffled her way deeper into the cavern to where one of the large northmen stood guard at the door to her private chamber. He opened it wordlessly for her, and she entered to see Makarria doing a handstand along the back wall of their sparsely furnished room.

"Keeping yourself entertained, I see," Taera remarked as she stepped inside, and the guard closed the door behind her.

"Taera! You're back. What happened? What did you do today?" Makarria rushed to Taera's side and hopped up and down like an excited child.

"Not now," Taera said, pushing her away and slumping down onto a wooden bunk. "I'm exhausted."

Makarria knelt in front of her and looked her over. "You are. You look horrible. Can I get you some water? Some food? Anything?"

Taera merely waved her away and said nothing. Already her eyes were closed, and she was drifting off to sleep. Makarria turned away with a huff. She knew she shouldn't be angry with Taera, but she couldn't help it. She had been cooped up in their chamber for three days straight with nothing to do but eat two meager meals a day and entertain herself. She had grown bored of doing handstands, cartwheels, and somersaults, but she'd found nothing better yet to pass the hours.

When a guard came a short time later bringing their supper, Makarria woke Taera and they ate in silence for as long as Makarria could bear.

"I know you're tired, but could you maybe tell me what it is they're teaching you?" Makarria asked.

"Nothing I can do," Taera said with a shake of her head.

"Is Roanna getting cross with you? Maybe I can help."

"No!" Taera snapped. "You are to do nothing of the sort."

Makarria felt tears welling up in her eyes and stood quickly to hide it from Taera.

"Makarria, no, I'm sorry," Taera said with another sigh. "It's just, I don't want you to get hurt. If they find out..." She left the rest of her thought unsaid out of fear that Roanna or Kadar might somehow be able to overhear what she said.

"But it's so horrible in here," Makarria said, unable to hold the tears back any longer. "At least you get to leave our room everyday. What am I supposed to do?"

Taera stood and hugged Makarria. "I don't know. I'm sorry. There's nothing for it. I know we are meant to be here, but I don't know what we're supposed to do. My visions have left me. I've seen nothing since we arrived here. We are just going to have to bide our time and see what happens. Roanna and Kadar are unkind, but I don't think they mean us harm. We just have to wait."

"Can't you take me with you in the morning, at least?" Makarria pleaded. "I promise just to watch."

"Roanna won't stand for it. I'm sorry, Makarria."

More tears came. Makarria felt foolish. Quit being a baby, she told herself. You've had your moonblood—you're a grown woman now, but the tears would not stop.

~~~

In the morning, Taera left again, and again Makarria was left to her own devices. She resolved to make use of her time by exercising to keep her agility and balance sharp. I might be back on that airship any day now, or Grampy might come to rescue me. She didn't really believe either scenario would happen, but it gave some purpose to her day. She walked the perimeter framework of her bunk with her eyes closed; she spun herself in circles until she was dizzy and then hopped on one foot and tried staying upright; she tried to climb the walls, but found the stonework too smooth to provide adequate hand holds. All in all, it kept her busy for a few hours, and then she plopped to the ground bored and dejected. She considered practicing her letters as her grandfather had taught her, but there was nothing to write with. There was literally nothing for her to do.

Just when she thought she could take it no more and would scream, the door to her chamber suddenly opened and in walked Siegbjorn. "Come with me," he said gruffly.

Makarria wanted to scream with joy, but his tone of voice silenced her. Am I in trouble? she wondered. She silently followed after him past the guard and into the main cavern. She had no idea where he was taking her, but she didn't care, she decided. Anything was better than being trapped in her room. Siegbjorn's heavy footfalls echoed in the cavern around them, and apart from the incessant dripping of water from the glacier, there was no other sound in the vast emptiness. He led her past the chamber where Taera was locked inside with Roanna, and past numerous other chambers—some with closed doors, some open—until they finally reached the opening to the meadow outside. They passed no one the entire way.

A thin blanketing of snow covered the ground outside, and the sky was gray, but still Makarria had to shield her eyes against the brightness after being in the dim cavern for so long. She glanced back toward the cavern opening to make sure they were alone before she finally spoke.

"Siegbjorn, where are we going?"

"To check on the airship, of course. I cannot be expected to do an inspection without my first mate."

Makarria let out a squeal of excitement and jumped forward to embrace him around the waist. The big man stopped awkwardly, but smiled nonetheless, and patted her shoulder roughly.

"Where have you been the last three days?" she demanded of him as they continued on into the meadow toward the airship.

"Sleeping."

"For three days?"

"I told you, I am like a bear. I would not have slept so long if I knew you were to be locked up, but I was tired and it did not occur to my mind that Roanna would leave you under lock and key."

Makarria cringed at hearing Roanna's name. "Will she be angry that you've freed me? You won't be in trouble, will you?"

Siegbjorn snorted. "She has probably already forgotten you exist. And I do not mean to free you. I am merely putting you to work, and when night comes it is back to your chamber with you. Yes?"

"Aye, Captain," Makarria said smartly, and Siegbjorn grinned from beneath his big beard again.

They found the airship still tethered where they had landed. Siegbjorn put Makarria to work checking all the lines on the gondola for frays while he examined the furnace and the controls at the helm. When they were done with that, Siegbjorn then had her climb the thickly braided ropes that attached the gondola to the main hull floating in the air above them. The main hull had an internal skeleton, but the shell itself was made of a thick, black, canvas-like material that squished beneath Makarria's hands and feet. It supported her weight well enough but was not easy to traverse. She climbed to the very top to check the two vertical rudders, then to either side to check the horizontal rudders, while Siegbjorn exercised the rudder controls.

When Siegbjorn was satisfied that all was in working order, he had her hoist up a giant canvas tarpaulin. It was easily larger than even the mainsail of Pyrthin's Flame, and Makarria marveled at the time and effort that must have gone into making it. She had spent hours mending the sail of her grandfather's skiff back home, and she couldn't begin to imagine how long it must have taken to sew each section of the tarpaulin together. For that matter, the egg-shaped main hull must have been even more work, she realized. It must be nearly airtight to hold in all that hot air, she mused.

"Makarria!" Siegbjorn shouted up at her. "What is the delay?"

"Sorry," she yelled down at him and scurried back across the length of the hull, dragging the tarpaulin behind her. Once she had the tarpaulin draped over the entirety of the hull, she lowered herself to the ground, and the two of them staked down each of the two dozen ties to keep the tarp from blowing away.

"The tarpaulin will keep the snow and ice from stacking on the hull of the ship and freezing up our lines," Siegbjorn told her. "As it is, winter is coming and it will be hard enough to unbury her from the snow if we must needs fly anywhere."

"What next, then?" Makarria asked, cold, but excited to do more.

"Back into the caverns. I will show you where the peat is prepared for the furnace."

Siegbjorn led the way back inside, and they passed the same series of chambers, now on their left. The cavern narrowed beyond that and began rising in elevation as it followed the lower edge of the slab-like glacier. At points, the underground stream beneath the glacier came to the surface in a peacefully bubbling brook. The sound comforted Makarria but reminded her also how much she missed the sound of the surf and her home. She wondered what her parents were doing at that moment, but the thought pained her, so she quickly turned her mind to other thoughts, lest she start crying again.

"Did Roanna make this cave?" she asked.

Siegbjorn snorted. "This cavern has been here long before Roanna was ever born, long before men even walked the world, I think. The ice above us—it carved this cavern many ages ago. Indeed, it continues to carve it as the ages pass."

"But it didn't carve out all those rooms," Makarria pointed out.

"No, my people, the Snjaer Firan as we once called ourselves, discovered this cavern many hundreds of years ago. Before even Norg, Sargoth, and the other sorcerers came to conquer this land. My ancestors wintered in the cavern, then in the spring and summer would venture out for months at a time into the valley outside where they would fish, hunt, and gather all that they needed for the coming winter. When the Five Sorcerers came, the Snjaer Firan in name fell under dominion of Norgland, but even Norg himself never ventured so high into these mountains more than once or twice in his lifetime. We went on living much as we had in the years before, that is until Trumball came."

"I've heard that name before," Makarria said, trying to remember what she knew of him. "My grampy must have told me a story about him, but I can't remember much."

"He was the son of our chieftain and had strange powers, much like those of Roanna and Kadar I imagine, but to greater ability and better purpose. When he was still young, he left our cavern and explored far beyond the Five Kingdoms to the Old World, learning what he was able. He returned many years later a wise and powerful man and became the mightiest of our chieftains. In his travels he had learned well the workings of Tel Mathir, whom we call Svell Módir, and he taught our people much. They extended the cavern through the core of the mountain to make an entrance on the south face, so we were no longer cut off from the outside world, and they built the fair city you are about to witness. After that, the Dreamwielder War began, and of the Dark Queen and her son Guderian we do not speak. Let it be enough to say that when Trumball was murdered we destroyed the southern entrance of the cavern and again kept to our own ways. So things remained until Kadar came unbidden seven years ago."

"He's not one of you, is he?" Makarria asked. "I mean, he's not Snjaer Firan."

"He is certainly not. Nor is Roanna, though she is at least of the Five Kingdoms."

"Where is Kadar from then? And what's wrong with his teeth?"

"Of his teeth I cannot say, but he travels here from Khail Sanctu in the Old World."

"You don't like either of them, do you?" Makarria ventured.

"Whether I like them or not is unimportant and best left unspoken. You have asked enough questions for now. Be content to know that Roanna and Kadar prefer to stay in the chambers of old, near the valley entrance, and let us abide in our city so long as we provide for them and do their bidding."

They had been continually climbing upward, and Siegbjorn stopped now at the crest of the incline where the cavern opened into a vast chamber that took Makarria's breath away: the glacier itself comprised the western wall to their right and stretched upward hundreds of feet to disappear again into the dark ceiling; running alongside the ice wall was a narrow lake, spanning the entire length of the chamber, nearly a half-mile long; and on the upward sloping rock bed above the lake was a city. Many of the buildings were freestanding, made of quarried granite blocks into rectangular one- and two-story structures, but the vast majority of the city was literally carved into the granite wall that comprised the eastern edge of the chamber, and hundreds of stairwells and windows in the rock face glowed cheerfully with lamplight.

"Welcome to Issborg," Siegbjorn said and led the speechless Makarria forward.