Chains of Ice Read Free Page B

hard it slowly separated from the wall, and behind him dust rose from the passage.
    Amina screamed.
    Sophie backed away.
    “Go on.” John took Sophie by the shoulders and shoved her toward the passage out. “Bataar, take her. Max, get the hell out of here. Amina, you need to leave .”
    But Amina shook her head, her eyes glued to the drama before her.
    In a feat of athleticism that rivaled anything in the Olympics, Gary swung Sun Hee up, flipped her and caught her wrists, then lowered her toward the altar.
    John ran forward, across stepping-stones that tilted like ice floes on a rushing river. As he reached the altar, her weight settled on the table—and beneath her, the stone legs cracked. The top collapsed.
    John caught her, yanked her away. A large obsidian ax blade dropped from the ceiling, barely missing them. Shards of black stone glass shattered into a thousand pieces.
    Red trickled from Sun Hee’s cheek.
    John’s forehead stung, and blood ran into his left eye.
    The back wall bulged. Water leaked through the cracks. The roaring grew louder.
    “Go on!” John pushed her toward the entrance, then turned in time to see Gary launch himself off the ledge.
    The ledge collapsed behind him, dragging a huge chunk of stone off the back wall.
    For the first time, John got a clear view of the dam of glacial ice—blue, clear, cold, and impersonal. The dam held back a raging river of turbulent water—and it was failing. In minutes, seconds, the water would break through and drown them all. “Go!” he yelled at Gary.
    But Gary, of course, took his place beside John.
    Ever the hero.
    More stone peeled from the back wall, opening up wider views of the frenetic river rampaging behind the ice dam, demanding to be free.
    John didn’t want to worry about saving the hero. He’d be damned lucky to save himself. “You have to go,” he shouted. “You have to save the women!”
    That worked. Of course it did.
    Gary clapped his hand on John’s shoulder. “Hold it off as long you can.” Then he was gone.
    “John!” Sun Hee screamed.
    John didn’t turn. He knew Gary would get her out. All his focus had to be on that thinning wall of ice. He had to stop it long enough to get the team—and possibly even himself—out of the cave.
    He needed to save his energy, delay until the last possible second before the collapse. Yet if he waited too long, the water would break through and he’d be lucky to contain it.
    This disaster felt unreal, as if John were watching the climax of Titanic on his own personal IMAX screen. Every moment, the water and sand ate away at the ice. Once, twice—boulders the size of a refrigerator rose and fell on the mighty, churning current. If one of those hit the ice dam. . . . Then one did.
    John flung his hands up, slammed his strength into the ice, catching it before it cracked, bracing it with the force of his will. He could see waves of power emanating from his hands, blue as the ice but ephemeral, fleeting. The smallest crackle told him the ice was failing; the water was winning. . . . Then a louder pop. And a crack that echoed like a gunshot in the tiny chamber.
    He staggered back.
    Water leaked from the fissure that had opened across the length of the ice. Water ran from the ceiling. The chamber looked like a tropical storm had struck . . . a frigid tropical storm.
    John didn’t feel the cold. Sweat broke out on his forehead, trickled down his spine. The might of the glacier, of one of nature’s most commanding forces, clashed with John’s subtler, more unfathomable power—and John knew he couldn’t hold on forever. But long enough for the Chosen to escape . . .
    His arms trembled with the strain.
    Where did the power come from? He didn’t know. He did know it wasn’t his—that he drew energy from the stones, the stars, the universe: he was merely a conduit. But as a conduit, he could only push so much power.
    The water’s roar deafened him; the whole cave trembled violently,