Page 41 of The Alien Noble's Little Human

“Heating up tents maybe,” I offer.

“I think we do a pretty good job of that ourselves,” Zaya says. I’m relieved to know that I'm not the only one constantly revisiting the pleasures of the nights we've spent.

“Let me get the mesh to carry it over. Maybe it’s capable of loosening the debris blocking the entrance somehow.” Compared to the scorching bolt climbing through my spine, though, who needs the drathasite? I could burn down the whole mountain.

When I return, mesh in hand, Zaya has her gloves and shoes off and is using the mineral to warm her hands and feet. “It’s marvelous,” she says, pleasure etched across her face.

I laugh at her antics, relieved that for once the unexpected turn of events is a pleasant one. “You stay there,” I insist. I start to shovel the warm substance onto the tarpaulin.

We toss it onto the tarp like we're playing a hurling sport, and we haul it together back to the mine entrance. It's shockingly light. Then we carefully pack it around the iced-up beams and blocked tunnel.

With the heat-emitting chips radiating warmth, I only now allow myself to acknowledge how fearfully cold I had gotten at times. My metabolism can handle much lower temperatures than Zaya’s, but if she knew how much it had affected me, there's a good chance she might have actually given up.

We make sure to save contingency stores of it for later. The sublimating effects of the drathasite clear the area of the once-intractable encasing almost immediately. The snow and ice start to steam, and soon there are puddles of water collecting around the entrance of the shaft.

“It’s working,” she marvels.

I can tell by her eyes that our minds have gone to the same place, but we don't dare speak it out loud. If we could encounter a rare miracle substance purely by chance, it's the strongest evidence yet to have faith that this same cave of wonders conceals a yet more precious bounty.

As we enter the newly resurrected entrance to the site of our pilgrimage, we take one last look at the beautiful ghostly landscape, gleaming white and lilac in the mists.

With any luck, the next time we see this landscape, we will have with us the keys to my daughter’s resurrection as well.

20

ZAYA

Ican see the old mine shaft isn’t secure. The ancient logs that the miners must have hauled up the mountain many years before are rotten and collapsing.

Several times we come across areas where the supports and natural pillars of the cave have begun to degrade, although so far none of the passages have been totally closed off, thank the Divine Ones. There have been a couple of moments when I believed Taurek’s preternatural bulk would pin him intractably between the narrow walls, but his preternatural agility exceeded his size.

The most positive thing, besides the fact that we found it, is that we don’t need any lights. There are traces of the eerily beautiful roxolite everywhere, glowing as if lit from within. It’s maddeningly close and maddeningly evasive. The glow of the mineral collects and scatters, building a self-replicating web even outside of living cells.

In its own way, roxolite seems like a life form all its own. It very well may contain a universe of microfauna. It’s never been studied with rigor.

We let the mauve fluorescence of the ancient stone guide us, as it has in a very real sense since we first detected the glowing purple signal light in the snow.

“Look,” says Taurek. “The seam is more concentrated there.”

I’ve just climbed through the small aperture left by the most recent cave-in to block our path. I shake the dirt from my hair and neck unthinkingly as I enter without thinking.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper in a reverent hush.

From the visual signatures, I can see that this deposit of roxolite radiates out from a dense central column, like the molten iron-silicate core that sits in the center of Kiphia.

“Should we begin to extract, Zaya?” Taurek asks.

“It seems close, but the proximity is an illusion. It’s much deeper than it looks because of the energy refraction.” I tap on the walls, which respond with a dusting of silt, and I pat it instinctively as if it’s capable of understanding the action. “It’s through there. Understand the freakout over the instruments a little better?” I crack a smile, and I’m not sure if he can see until he gives one back.

This is where all of the practical knowledge of working with practically every kind of mineral on Kiphia merges with the research I’ve read in historical tomes. I can practically get around by feel rather than thought. Something about the roxolite allows me to practically commune with it directly.

“Lead the way, Captain.” Taurek gives a little bow. “I’d volunteer to help, but given my… I’d call it a deficiency in size, but lack of deficiency is the problem…”

It was not a problem at all underneath those furs at night, I think. Even with the most serious task of my life, I can’t suppress the thoughts of him driving me wild.

I squeeze his hand, and he gives me a look of hope, fear, and pride. I see the face of two soldiers stepping into battle after years of training for a decisive operation, one that will determine within minutes whether the war is lost or won.

I know what he means, but to me, the tunnels are the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen. Or maybe it’s the lack of oxygen that makes everything look so magical?

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