As they approached the tunnel exit, the draft became stronger. The fire on the enchanted torches faltered without ever extinguishing themselves. A normal torch would last little more than a second.
Yudarh led the way, leaning on the staff that always accompanied him. The staff’s lower end was lined with metal, striking the floor and setting the pace. The path turned into a steep ascent, forcing Ayalal and Lysa to support themselves on the stone to climb, unlike the half-demon whose hooves seemed accustomed to such treks. It being a little-frequented passage, no one had bothered to build stairs to assist in the task.
A clear light, not that of the torches, began to reveal itself, peering at them from a bend that prevented them from seeing any further. Just as they moved past it, Ayalal cried out in pain and instinctively moved his forearm over his eyes. It was as if the light had taken the form of several needles that struck him by surprise.
Yudarh looked back.
“The light may hurt you, but if you really want to see the outside of this mountain, you will endure this pain.”
Unaccustomed to the brightness of the outdoor, Lysa narrowed her eyes.
“Will it hurt him, master?” she wanted to know, worried.
“Possibly, only a headache.” The tiefling resumed his walk. “Do not look directly at the sun, child.”
Ay nodded quickly, still with his arm over his eyes. In an instant, that sudden and unexpected pain had placed a pang of fear in his heart. He had never imagined that daylight would hurt him. He stood where he was, while Yudarh and Lysa's footsteps went on. He took a deep breath and forced one leg to move forward. He held on with his free hand and continued forward, slowly, hesitantly, toward the huge mouth of light, before him.
He had walked a few yards when, without warning, one of his feet struck on a boulder and the boy fell forward, helplessly. Startled, and trying not to get hurt, he reached out with both hands and opened his eyes. Light. Everything seemed made of light that blinded and erased the rest of the world. He closed his eyelids harder, but the light seemed to be trapped inside.
“Ay!” The word was carried away by the strong wind. One of Lysa’s hands touched his back, worried, while the other helped him to get up. “Master, he can’t open his eyes...”
“He can. Little by little” said the half-demon. His voice was not far off.
Ayalal said nothing, but the fists of his hands were clenched. A part of him urged him to run back into the tunnel, stumbling. Another wanted to see, open his eyes and absorb what new things would be there, the images that Lysa told him about in her stories. He waited, the moments slowing down. In the distance, he heard a sound he had never heard before, piercing the wind. It seemed to call him.
“What was that?” He asked, still not daring to open his eyes. There was already so much light with them closed, what would happen if he opened them?
“One of the hawks that inhabits the mountains came to greet you,” Yudarh said.
He became more curious. What would a hawk be and why would it greet him?
Slowly, the pressure he was making to close his eyelids began to ease. Two small gaps revealed a violet portion of his iris. He saw shapes and smudges of his surroundings, but the pain was still there, defying him. He tried to open more of his eyes, but the tears came to smear his vision even more, in a vain attempt to placate his suffering.
When he was about to give up of that effort, one of the figures came over and touched him. The child's body was swept by a chill, caused by a wave of energy, and suddenly the intensity of light diminished. Hesitantly, afraid that it might be a prank, Ayalal just opened his eyes and... widened them.
In front of him, the vast horizon revealed the lowest peaks of the steep mountains where he lived; beneath them, small green patches painted the plain; and, far beyond, a brilliant expanse embraced everything else – it was The Inner Sea.
