The roar was deafening.
Drenched in spray, Umoya studied the waterfalls crashing before her, an amphitheater of violence, the twelve Furies of Ukunkulu.
I’m going to die here, she concluded. But what choice do I have?
The current threatened to sweep her legs from under her. She stood knee-deep in waves, a hundred yards or so from the falls where the turbulent lake narrowed to form a funnel. To lose footing here would mean a miserable death by rocks and water, her corpse dragged down the long ravine to end up dumped on the river bank or caught in a whirlpool.
Taking one step forward, Umoya screamed at the furies. It was a pale, drowned-out challenge, a tadpole taunting a pike, and yet the defiance stood, however feeble.
I will silence you, if only for a moment.
She touched the bone pendant around her neck. How many people had died for her to wear it? Best not to think about that. She had to concentrate like never before. Her tribe depended on her. Everyone who had survived depended on her, even if they didn’t know there was hope.
Umoya crushed the pendant on her chest. Blood flowed from the cracked shell, slowly trailing down between her breasts. It burned like a strip of flayed skin as her body absorbed the ichor. Inside her, her skill responded to the blood and pain. Awakened. Enraged. Umoya feared her body may rip apart and yet the thrill of it was intoxicating.
Quickly, she clapped her hands together and raised them.
The sky darkened, clouds forming rapidly. The very air shifted, stirring. A breeze brushed Umoya from behind, and steadily it grew, until her beaded skirt flapped wildly. Before long, the gale cleared the mist and spray from the mountain. Still, the wind gained strength, blowing the waves back. The lake had lost its rage, appearing strangely calm and smooth.
But this was not enough.
Umoya anchored her feet to the stone, then lowered her arms toward the waterfalls. The shrieking wind grew to a terrible zenith, ripping even the clothes from her body. The thunderous growl of the furies fell silent. The storm blew the water of the lake out of its stone basin. Even the muck and the rocks of the lakebed could not withstand the force. Soon, all that remained was dry bedrock.
A single tree stood by the lakeside, an ancient sentinel, and this too, the wind uprooted. The spruce hurtled to the cliffside, spinning in the air. Wood collided with stone. The impact shattered the tree and the splinters hurled up toward the sky. The shrapnel disappeared into the waterfalls now falling upward.
Umoya almost succumbed to exhaustion, but she kept her footing. She could not allow her concentration to falter. To survive she had to maintain the storm, and do more still.
Now, to keep you quiet.
Umoya summoned her remaining skill.
The storm kept the surreal lakebed dry, but now the blizzard carried the sudden bite of an impossible winter. Crackling ice formed on the surrounding grass, earth, and stone, snaking towards the base of the cliff. The remaining moisture in the air surrendered to the brutal cold, frosting up the stony cliff face, and when it reached the top, water instantly turned to blue-white ice.
Finally, Umoya collapsed. Her world turned black as the blizzard relented.
When she awoke she was covered in ice, numb and near death. Using a trickle of skill, she warmed herself. Everything hurt, but she was alive. She looked up at the frozen Furies of Ukunkulu, a jagged crown of ice, and cried.
I did it. I actually did it!
Umoya surveyed the cliff face and smiled with relief. There. The cave was exactly where the book said it would be. She raised herself to her feet and approached the mountain, walking by crushed blocks of ice, jewels of the crown that had broken off and fallen. At the base of the cliff, she paused, breathing in deeply and expelling crystalline clouds. And then she climbed.
The ascent was short but treacherous. She placed her hands and feet carefully, gripping tight, standing fast, moving slowly. Halfway to the cave, she slipped and fell. Only her skill saved her, anchoring her hand to the ice-coated rock. Still, her body slammed into the mountain and she nearly blacked out from the pain. But she didn’t. She was alive. She still had strength.
Umoya navigated the rest of the way without incident, and within a few minutes, she stood in the mouth of the cave.
Uhlanga! she thought and wept. It’s so beautiful.
The cave shone, a sea of colours that Umoya could not begin to describe. Embedded in the walls, countless gemstones pulsated and swirled with light. Her hand could barely cover one of the gems. This wealth was not just worthy of kings, but of gods.
A crash of ice outside broke her reverie. Time was short and she had not come here for magical stones.
Well, maybe just one.
Umoya latched her hand to a blue gem, pulled it from the rock, then sprinted down the tunnel. After a hundred paces, the adorning light stones in the wall ceased, and she would have been left in darkness if not for the light she held. The same distance again, and the passageway opened into an immense chamber. The bright light from the gem dissipated into the void.
I’m here.
She steadied herself against the wall. Her body shook. Exhaustion. Relief. Fear.
Then, Umoya stepped forward unsteady yet determined. She raised the gem high, mustered all her courage, and screamed into the darkness, “Dragon! Arise!”
The Amber Restorative 