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Deborah Windsor, Executive Director, The Writer’s Union of Canada

Chapter Eight

There are places where few choose to venture: places too harsh, too unbearable to endure; places where the elements take charge and claim the landscape, hindering those who might dare to enter. Such a place was this. The ice field stretched league after league: a vast plain of thick, translucent snow hardened by the cold and hammered by the frozen wind. Far off in the distance, jagged glaciers pierced the sky; their steely cold ridges stabbed at the few low lying clouds that drifted on cold currents. Sheets of ice grew from accumulated snow and froze into slippery avenues too perilous to cross. Calm days were few, when the breeze died down and the snow settled. More often than not, it was an unfriendly place fraught in the whims of bitter, cold wind and storms of ice mixed with snow. Any life existing in this land of abomination remained hidden, protected from the elements in attempts to survive. Crevasses riddled the glacial mountains offering a bleak refuge to the creatures that chose to reside there in self-inflicted exile and relish in their own miserable seclusion.
A lone figure arrived at the edge of the ice field. The wind ripped at the heavy cloak and thick grey hood hiding the Traveller’s face. With a single step, the trek across the ice field began, and the Traveller braced against the wind and the beating snow. Now on the final leg of a journey begun long ago, the Traveller gained a second wind, knowing that soon the quest would be completed.
The glacier loomed forbiddingly. Standing at the foot of the great mountain of hardened ice, the Traveller peered upwards to the jagged peaks only to lose sight of their summits as they disappeared into the clouds of snow. The ascent would be arduous, even dangerous, but the Traveller was determined. Scaling the icy cliffs would demand agility and concentration. One slip, one ill-positioned grip, one uncertain toehold would hurl the climber to the ground in a spectacular death. Higher and higher the Traveller climbed, battling the ripping winds and blinding snow. Finally, the glacier offered a sturdy ledge; the Traveller hoisted across, and for a moment rested. Looking up, the Traveller faced a great, gaping hole punched into the side of the glacier. The mouth of a cave hungrily beckoned.
“Come in, come in,” it silently urged, eager to devour anyone who entered. The Traveller walked into the opening and disappeared from sight.
Although without a clear source of light, the walls of white ice shone brilliantly and it took a few moments for the Traveller’s eyes to adjust to the brightness of the cave. Scattered around the cavern lay icicles randomly strewn. From the roof of the cave, stalactites of tapering ice stretched downwards reaching to their stalagmite mates rising up from the ground. After centuries of longing some pairs had met creating hourglass columns of ice. Beyond count, they stood passively as a frozen forest inside the cave;the Traveller wended a way around and between them.
Deeper into the cave, away from the main chamber, a path chiselled its way through the mountain and brought the Traveller to the mouths of several tunnels dissecting the glacier. Only one opening was large enough to allow passage; its wide yawn could easily accommodate an elephant. The Traveller hesitated for a moment. The task ahead seemed daunting now that the challenge was near. With renewed determination the Traveller entered the passage.
The tunnel wound deep into the glacier and seemed to go on forever. Many twists and turns and roundabouts made the way long and repetitive. Finally, finally, the passage ended in a wide cavern in the heart of the great mountain At this depth,sounds were left behind, the silence broken only by the Traveller’s soft footfalls. The light was dimmer here and dark shadows cast their images against icy walls.
“Where are you, my treasure?” whispered the Traveller. “Show yourself to me.”

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