Chapter 40
As Mitchell crawled out of the tent, the first thing he noticed was that there was light. But not the harsh wintry light from outside. This light was warm and inviting. It reminded him of staring in through a large bay window into a living room decked out for Christmas with a fire roaring in a hearth strung with stockings and garland. The glow was coming from the oval window set into a stout wooden door that was nestled into the stone as if the mountain had been formed around it. The door stood in the same position as the narrow entrance had been when they first arrived but he could see no trace of it now, only the rough granite walls and this new feature.
As Mitchell straightened, Lethelin emerged behind him and was equally awestruck by the appearance of the door and the soothing light emanating from the stained-glass of the window.
"Stollar's nipples," she said, almost in a whisper. "When did that get here?"
Before Mitchell could answer, the little creature that had drawn them out of the tent chirped at them once again, very pleased with itself, turned in a circle and then scampered through a cat flap that had been cut into the door near the bottom. Its body flowed smoothly through the small opening and the flap slapped close with a little click.
"I think we've found the one who locked us in here," Mitchell said.
He turned to look at Lethelin who hadn't answered him.
"Oh, yeah. Sorry, it's just that..." her voice trailed off, then she shook her head. "It's so nice. We've been in the dark for so long. Can we go in?"
Lethelin pulled her eyes away from the multi-hued glow and looked at him with an eager expression.
He felt it too. He wanted to go in so bad he thought he could taste the Christmas cookies that were surely just on the other side, but a more cautious part of his brain was sounding the alarm klaxons.
"Is this safe?"
"I don't see another way out," she said.
Mitchell couldn't argue with that. He wasn't sure how long they'd been in here. Without the sun to keep the time, there was no way to tell day from night. Two days, maybe. Not more than three. But he knew that Lethelin was holding it together by the skin of her teeth, and then there was Allora, who hadn't moved at all and now wasn't even breathing. In any event, their food would run out eventually if they stayed here. The door seemed their best bet. If whoever or whatever had put it here wanted them dead,, all they had to do was nothing.
"Okay, then," Mitchell said with a sigh.
He crossed the uneven ground over to the door and reached up to the knocker which was bolted in just below the window. It was a simple design, just a copper ring with a fat end meant to strike the matching copper plate. Mitchell gave it the standard shave-and-a-haircut knock and waited. It didn't take long.
Of its own accord, the door swung inward and a rush of warm cinnamon-and-cedar-scented air washed over them.
"Come in," said a distinctly feminine voice from somewhere inside.
Mitchell felt Lethelin's hand as she found his and gripped it, and they stepped inside.
As they crossed through the threshold, Mitchell felt a strange tingling all over his body. Almost like he had walked through some sort of static electrical field. It tickled ever so slightly and Mitchell couldn't suppress the shudder. He felt Lethelin do the same. But it didn't hurt, and it stopped once they were clear of the entrance.
Mitchell turned to look behind him and could see the cave and the tent through the glow from inside but of the pass that they had trudged through to get to the cave there was no sign.
The room was just as warm and inviting as the light had suggested. A fire was blazing in a river stone hearth built into the left side, though there were no stockings or Christmas tree. The thick logs were blazing enthusiastically, filling the room with the crackle and pop as they burned. The furnishings were simple but comfortable-looking chairs made of a dark wood and over-stuffed cranberry-red cushions. Opposite the door was a pre-industrial cooking area with what almost looked like a pizza oven, a pump for bringing up water, and a counter top stacked high with vegetables and herbs that Mitchell couldn't identify. It had been built into an alcove off of the main room and there was a small leaded glass window that showed a hint of green and sunlight outside.
A small table was set in front of the fireplace with covered dishes set up, along with looked to Mitchell like a glass of beer. He did a double take. He could make out the logo for the Pedal Haus Brewery on the glass. That was impossible! It was a local craft brewery back in Phoenix that made his favorite beer, their Kush IPA. And it certainly appeared the right shade.
Next to that was a bottle of something else that Mitchell didn't recognize. It was a small, squat bit of green glass with a fat cork in the top. He could see it was filled with a dark liquid, and he assumed it was a variety of wine going by the color.
As he scanned across to the right side of the room, he saw against the opposite wall a small writing desk with several leather-bound books arranged on a shelf above with two open next to some loose paper and a quill. Next to the desk was a doorway strung with beads of various different colors and a cot against the same wall the entrance to the cottage was in. It was covered in quilts that had a handmade quality to them and a large pillow at one end.
The little dragon thing had taken up residence on a small rug in front of the fireplace and was already snoozing comfortably, as if rousing them out of the tent and getting them to come in the door had exhausted it.
"Um..." Mitchell began into the silence. "Hello?"
The voice spoke up almost immediately from the room beyond the beads.
"Just a moment," it said in thickly accented English. "I'm almost finished."
It had an almost Mediterranean sound. Italian or Spanish, maybe.
They heard the sound of some clinking bottles and then a satisfied grunt before the beads parted and a woman emerged. She was about Lethelin's height, with straight silver-white tresses that went down to the middle of her back and silvery eyes with irises that were gray instead of black. Her skin was as pale as her hair, but somehow still managed to glow with health. Deep burgundy lips were the only bit of color animating her otherwise albino features and.he saw long ears pointing up between the locks of her hair, much higher than Allora's.
Her body was lithe and she moved with an almost unnatural grace as she stepped into the room in a simple red farm dress cinched tight at the waist with a red leather bodice that pushed her ample cleavage up to prominence. Mitchell had the feeling that if she stopped too fast the sudden change in speed would be enough to rip the brave and struggling leather cord that zigzagged up the front of the bodice and held it together. Sewn into the shoulders of the leather were thin ruffled shirt sleeves that went down to about mid-bicep on the smaller woman and left her arms exposed.
