The Snow Queen's Shadow

gained ground before Gerta ducked around a corner. Talia should have swiped the giant’s lantern, bulky as it was. Gerta’s magical light was enough to see the outlines of the tunnel, but if she extinguished that light or if Talia fell behind, she would be left in total darkness.
    “Leave me alone!” Gerta shouted.
    Talia ran faster. She heard raucous singing from one corridor that smelled of tobacco. The scent of fresh fish wafted from another. She passed through a small room, barely dodging around a wooden winch set into the floor beside a square pit. Something snarled at her as she passed, but she didn’t stop long enough to determine if it was animal or fairy.
    The tunnel opened into a larger cavern, with stairs curving down along the side. Gerta was already halfway to the floor. The air was warmer here, more humid. Talia stopped to gauge the distance, then grabbed the railing and jumped.
    Gerta spun, fingers flared as she shouted a spell.
    Talia’s feet hit the rock and shot from beneath her. The ground was slick with ice. She twisted the best she could to cushion the fall, but the impact jarred the air from her chest. She lay stunned, trying to force her body to breathe.
    “I’m sorry,” yelled Gerta as she ran. “Please don’t make me hurt you again.”
    Talia rolled onto her side, grimacing at the pain in her elbow. Her palms were scraped bloody, and a lump the size of a marble had already begun to swell where her elbow had struck the rock. She flexed the arm to make sure the bone wasn’t broken.
    “Are you all right?” A group of goblins had been working in here, shoring up the broken beams of another tunnel.
    One of the goblins spat. “Magic. Is your friend trying to expose us?”
    Had Snow been here, she would have made an indecent quip about exposing herself. Talia swallowed, pushing the thought aside. Gerta’s light was already fading down another tunnel, going deeper into the earth. Talia carefully stepped out of the frost-edged area which had been frozen by Gerta’s magic. “Where does that passage lead?”
    “To one of the older areas of the mine. It flooded years ago. Great fishing, but it can be a dangerous place if you’re not careful. Even for your witch friend.”
    “Sorceress,” Talia muttered, limping after Gerta. This was another square-cut passage, with log beams supporting the planked walls and ceiling. Dust and mold obscured old carvings in the wood. Warnings, or simply the accumulated scrawls of old miners and fairies?
    Thankfully, Gerta had slowed as well. Snow had never trained as hard physically as she did mentally. It looked as though that was another thing she and Gerta shared.
    “We’ll find another way,” Talia shouted. “I’m not going to let either one of you die.”
    “Please don’t lie to me, Talia.” Gerta’s voice echoed strangely, and the sound of her footsteps had changed. Moments later, Talia discovered why.
    The tunnel emerged at the top of an enormous cave, easily as large as the palace courtyard back home. The air smelled of steam and sulfur, and a lake filled the lower portion of the cave. A wooden walkway was built into the side of the rock, descending back and forth toward a stone bridge on the far side where the lake narrowed, connecting to another cavern through a ragged gap in the wall. The lake’s surface was perfectly still, like black glass.
    Talia tugged off her boots. Not even Snow White was strong enough to freeze the entire lake. This was a higher drop than the last, but the water should break her fall. Assuming it was deep enough.
    Gerta was halfway to the bridge. Talia gripped the railing in both hands and took deep breaths, filling her lungs. Her elbow was throbbing, and hip and thigh complained as well. As Gerta’s light bobbed lower, Talia climbed onto the rail and leaped.
    She hit toes-first, keeping her knees bent and arms spread to absorb the impact as she plunged into the water, but she needn’t have worried. She couldn’t see how deep the lake was, but her feet never touched bottom.
    It was hotter than she expected, uncomfortably so, and tasted of salt. She kicked to the surface and wiped her face, slicking back her hair. Gerta had hesitated on the stairs. “You can’t keep running,” Talia shouted.
    Talia wasn’t the strongest swimmer, but Queen Beatrice had insisted she learn. She kicked toward the bridge, swimming on one side to favor her injured arm and leg. Gerta was close, but Talia should reach the