Flames Over Frosthelm

by Dave Dobson

  At last, Clarice stopped again and signed, Light ahead. Drop torch. I shifted to one side to allow Boog to drop his torch on the floor behind us. We proceeded again, and I could see Clarice was right – it was getting lighter. Whatever was in front of us, it must be illuminated. We rounded a gentle turn in the passage, and ten feet ahead of us, the tunnel opened out into empty space. Clarice stopped immediately, taking stock. Though I was at the rear, behind Boog and Lucianna, I could see, through the opening, a stone wall far beyond, but it was hard to estimate the distance without getting closer. I closed my eyes, and I could feel the cool presence I’d sensed before, stronger now, down below us. Whatever it was, it was in the room ahead of us, or below its floor.

  Clarice signaled for us to wait, and she pressed herself against one wall of the passage and inched forward to get a better view, peering around the edges of the opening. After a few moments, she motioned for us to come forward, and then she slipped through, disappearing out of view to the right. The others followed.

  As I came forward, trailing the whole party, Lucianna and Boog also ducked out of the tunnel, and my view was unobstructed. I came to the tunnel mouth. It opened into a huge circular chamber, perhaps two hundred feet across. The walls of the chamber were the same precise masonry and carefully shaped blocks I had seen at the Augur’s Pool in guild headquarters and also at Gora's building in the mountains so far away.

  The tunnel came out onto a ledge, ten feet wide, and I could see that the ledge continued all around the room, cut into the rock, unbroken except for a set of stairs that led down from the ledge on the far side. The upper walls, at the back of the ledge, curved in a gentle arc up into a round, flat ceiling perhaps twenty feet above us. A set of stairs were cut into the far wall, visible behind a huge circular pane of glass held up by two enormous metal arms. The stairs ran down to the right, then hit a narrow landing, then ran down to the left, presumably to the floor below. They looked like the only way down. Well, the only healthy way. All around the room, the high ledge ended in a sheer drop down to a large central circular space below. I could see various boxes, barrels, shelves and bags scattered around the ledge, and even a large metal cage or jail with iron bars and unpleasant stains nearby.

  Clarice and Boog were prone, their heads barely peeking over the ledge, looking down at whatever lay below. I knelt and pulled myself down to the floor of the ledge beside him, a very delicate maneuver given my injuries. Very slowly, I moved my head over the edge, just enough so I could see down into the central area. What I saw below me was a huge circular floor. Set into the center of the floor, made of bright gold and silver metal inlaid into a carved floor, was the moon and sun symbol, a hundred feet across, half the width of the floor, facing us. It was the same pattern as the other versions we’d seen in the augury pool chambers and on the amulet, which I still carried in the pocket at my knee – the full moon on the right, with a golden sun emerging behind it on the left.

  Behind the symbols, standing at the top of the moon and sun, there was a statue of a regal man in armor made of riveted metal plates in a style I’d never seen. One of his hands clutched a thick book. The other was outstretched in front of him, palm up. The statue was exquisite, carved from intricately textured marbles of different colors, black, pink, green and blue. Its only apparent flaw was that, while one of its eyes was a pearly white stone orb with a green center, the other eye was missing, leaving only an empty socket. Extending to either side of the statue, matching the circular arc of the room’s wall, was a row of four rectangular holes in the floor, two on each side of the statue. These were perhaps three feet long by two feet wide and no more than a foot deep, although it was difficult to estimate their size from our vantage high above the floor. At the center of both the moon and sun patterns in the floor below, there were small shallow circular holes, no bigger than my hand. Behind the statue, near the rectangular holes, was a set of boxes of various sizes. One of them, I recognized easily – it was the box we carried from the Jezarmi warehouse, presumably containing the blue corpse of the unfortunate Nera, Princess of the Golesh tribe.

  Farther behind the statue, near the stairs and nearly touching the wall, was the enormous disk of pale blue glass, resting on its edge. Connected to either side of the glass disk, holding it upright, were huge curved arms, three feet wide and a foot thick. The arms stretched out to the edges of the room, one to the side with the sun, one to the side with the moon, slanting gently down to the floor. They were made of shiny black metal, and they followed the curvature of the room's wall around its edges, so they didn’t obscure any of the symbols or holes set in the center. I wondered what function this might have. At the far end of each of the arms, away from the glass disk, they descended down into slots set in the floor. The whole apparatus looked terribly heavy, but the slots extended well beyond the end of the arms, suggesting that the arms could move. If the arms could be shifted or rotated upward, it might be possible to raise the glass disk up toward the ceiling of the room. I could see no point in doing that, though. The ceiling was the same featureless stone tile as the walls, and the position of the disk seemed irrelevant.

  As I studied the room, I was confused about the source of light. There were six braziers burning down below, giving the air a smoky tang. These were set in a circle around the edge of the room, but they did not seem bright enough to produce the illumination we were seeing, which was steady and smooth, almost as if the bricks of the walls and floor were glowing softly of their own accord.

  I’ve said it was difficult to estimate sizes from where we lay, peering over the edge, but we did have something to use for scale. Brand and Marron were down there, standing in the center of the sun carving, discussing something intently with a woman in robes and a soft square cap. She was a handsome woman, probably forty years old, with curly dark brown hair. She also wore one of the moon and sun pendants I’d seen the other Faerans wearing, not as big or as elaborate as the one I carried and the one that Novara had owned. A few other robed workers moved around the floor on various errands, cleaning, sweeping, carrying objects about. Spaced evenly around the edges of the room, leaning against the walls, stood ten armed warriors. Five were men, five women, with swords at their belts and small crossbows at the ready, keeping watch over the room. They wore light leather armor, covered up by loose long tabards showing the Faeran moon and sun emblem.

  We observed for a minute or so and then backed silently away so that Lucianna could take a turn. No one below seemed to have a reason to look up, and nobody else seemed to be on the upper ledge level where we were. So, though we were in a precarious spot, we were probably safe from discovery for the moment.

  Lucianna slid back from the edge, and Clarice waved us all back into the darkness of the tunnel.

  “What do we do now?” Boog whispered, looking from one face to the other.

  “This has to be the place,” I said. “Nera – the blue woman –– is here, and I’m willing to bet that statue is Hrogar.”

  “There are too many there to fight,” said Clarice. “Even with the higher ground.”

  “Can we get help?” said Boog.

  “It took us forever to get here,” I replied. “We’d have to go out and then come back again – I don’t think there’s time. There might be other exits, but I didn’t see anything obvious, and I don’t know that we can search without being seen.”

  “Whom would we bring, anyway? There aren’t that many of us in the first place,” said Clarice. “The City Guard isn’t likely to follow us down here. You two are criminals, and I’m not supposed to be posted here in Frosthelm. At best, they might send a guard or two, and that’s not enough.”

  “I don’t think we can afford to leave, and have whatever they’re planning go on without us,” I said.

  “What are we going to be able to do when it happens, if we can’t do anything now?” asked Boog.

  A reasonable question. I pondered for a bit. “If Madame Lenarre’s books were correct, they’re
supposed to need all of the objects there to unlock Faera's prison. If we could steal one of them…”

  Boog shook his head. “Too many eyes down there now. We’d never make it.”

  “A distraction of some kind?” said Clarice. “Draw the guards away?”

  “That might work,” replied Boog. “But it’s a longshot, and with only one staircase down there, and only the tunnel to escape through, I don’t really know that we could pull it off.”

  “We don’t have to pull it off for very long,” I said. “The eclipse shouldn’t last for more than what, ten minutes, right? I think they’re short.”

  “How would I know?” said Boog. “You’re the man of science." He thought some more. “Even if it is minutes, they may use the objects earlier than that, to set it up, and we might lose our chance.”

  “Then we kill them,” said Lucianna. “Easy.”

  She had a point. An arrow through the right person in the middle of it all could be all the disruption we needed. But it was a big gamble, that we’d have an opportunity, and that we’d succeed.

  “For now, then, we wait and watch,” said Clarice. “Look for an opportunity, take it if we find one, but otherwise, wait until closer to the eclipse to act. They're the ones with a tight schedule, not us.”

  Boog scowled. He didn’t like inaction. But then he nodded his assent, then asked, “How in the six hells are they going to know when the eclipse is, buried underground like this?”

  None of us had an answer. “Maybe it’s obvious,” I said. “Faera shows up, rings a dinner gong and sets out tea service for twenty.” Nobody thought I was very funny, myself included.

  Fearing that someone might come from the tunnel, we circled around on the broad ledge, finding a hiding spot behind a stack of crates and bags about halfway between the tunnel mouth and the staircase. For the next hour or so, we took turns peering over the edge of the ledge as the work continued. Boog chafed at the waiting, swinging his arms and flexing his fingers. I felt the tension too, and Clarice’s mouth was fixed in a grim line as she checked over the fletching of each arrow. Lucianna alone sat still and at ease, almost as if she were meditating. In this moment of tense calm, I remembered something I needed to do. I pulled the falcon pendant out from under my jacket and pulled it up over my head. "Clarice,” I said, holding it out.

  “Oh,” she said, smiling. “You brought it back! Thank you so much.”

  One detail had been bothering me. “Why did you send your cloak to Gora along with the pendant?”

  “I wasn’t certain you’d recognize the pendant, but I thought you’d know the cloak was mine. You found my note, right? I figured you’d find the hidden hole easily – you’re so good with things like that."

  “Yes, we found it,” I replied, hiding my embarrassment. I could perhaps go into the details later. But me, not recognize the pendant? She clearly didn’t realize just how much time I’d spent watching her every move. That was probably just as well. She slipped the chain over her neck and gripped the falcon tightly for a moment.

  I wanted to say more, but I wasn’t sure what. “Clarice,” I began. I paused.

  She looked at me, and then smiled a small, knowing smile. “We had a conversation, not so long ago, out in the hills. One that we didn’t finish, but one that I very much wanted to.”

  My heart leapt. “I wanted to too. I wasn’t sure…” She looked back at me, a hint of puzzlement on her face. Nothing for it but to dive in. "You’re so strong, so confident, so clever. I admire you. So much. Have, for years.” I swallowed. “I didn't think…”

  Clarice smiled. “Didn’t think what? That I admired you too? You were easily the top student in our class.”

  “Not in fencing.” I grimaced.

  She gave a low chuckle. “No, not in that. But in everything else.” She paused. “It’s funny, you know. You barely miss anything, Marten. Clues, patterns, magic – you pick it all up so easily, and see connections we all miss, can do things with the pool and the rods that none of us could figure out. You’re so perceptive. Except –– except you have some blind spots. Some things you don’t see at all.”

  “Like what?” I said, confused.

  “Well, there are two main areas. Two areas you need to work on, that you don’t see,” she said. “First, you don’t see yourself. You think you’re scrawny and weak.” I winced inwardly. Coming from her, that stung. But it was true. "And sure, there are others bigger and stronger. But I’ve never seen a man so brave. And so set on justice, and yet so kind-hearted. You’ve taken on Marron without a thought to the risk. That's not something I’d been able to do, even though I had far more cause. Not until you gave me hope, and showed me a way, even as it got harder and harder to find one.”

  My inner turmoil faded, and turned to a mix of pride and sadness as she spoke – pride, that she thought well of me, colored by sorrow at what Marron had done to her and her parents. Her eyes were bright, and I could see, I think, that she was sincere. Not trying to cajole me into happier spirits, not condescending, or just comforting an injured friend when he was down. Sincere and kind.

  Something in me melted away then. Something dark and hurtful, that I’d been carrying for a while. A part of me I needed to let go. I felt stronger, more confident. Assured. If Clarice thought I was a good guy, then maybe I was. No, not maybe. I was.

  “What’s the other thing I don’t see?” I asked.

  She leaned in, quick, and kissed me. It was soft and warm, and better than any of the hundreds of times I’d imagined it.

  Some time later, Boog waved us over to the ledge. His eyes were wide and dark, and his jaw clenched tight. We peered over. Brand and the robed woman with whom he’d been talking began to open the boxes behind the statue. The contents of each one they set in the four rectangular cavities. The left-most held a mace of black iron, with green gemstones set in its handle and vicious spikes at its head. In the next hole, they placed a fine crown, with many different bright jewels set in a broad circle of gold. On the other side of the statue, the woman opened a small bag of brilliant red cloth and upended it carefully over the hole. Small yellow flakes tumbled out. I supposed them to be the fabled Fingernails of the Holy Hermit I’d heard about from Madame Lenarre.

  Finally, the woman summoned over some helpers, and they opened the ornate chest Boog and I had discovered in the Jezarmi warehouse, revealing the hapless Nera folded up inside. What followed was actually rather comical, in a gruesome way. They had some trouble getting her unpacked from the box. Bodies are heavy, and they found it difficult to get much of a grip on her. Also, it was a pretty tight fit in the box, and she was snugly packed inside, and had been for months. They took turns straining and pulling, trying to get her free but instead merely dragging the box around the floor, occasionally tugging on a blue arm that flopped loose. They paused occasionally for discussion and then pulled some more. At length, one of them had the bright idea of tipping the box over, and with a brave display of exertion, three of them yanked hard enough to get her to flop out on the floor, blue limbs flailing and slapping the tiles. After that, they needed to get her packed into the hole on the floor, which was not really large enough to fit. Perhaps the designers of this particular ritual had imagined a younger or smaller princess of the Golesh tribe.

  It took some five attempts, with much folding and refolding of Nera’s multiply-abused corpse. I was sure this part of the exercise would definitely not make it into the official Ballad of the Reawakening of Faera. Finally, they decided that it was good enough, and left her there, her head resting on top of a knee and under a folded arm. Even the best prophecies never seem to give you the practical details you need, I surmised.

  All four of the ceremonial items were now in place in their holes. At this point, Marron, who’d been pacing the floor over to one side, strode over to Brand. He and Brand began to argue, with the robed woman looking on. As agitated as he was, we could hear pretty well.

  “Brand,” said Marron. “I must say it aga
in: this is a bad idea. I’ve read the prophecies, the rituals. You don’t know what is going to happen here.”

  “Faera is going to awaken, and reward us,” said Brand, his voice rising. “It’s written clearly in every book, every song, every verse. Eternal life, boundless power. What we’ve been working for all this time.”

  “There was a reason they locked him – it – away all those years ago. Those same books and songs tell of terrible destruction, of countless deaths—”

  “Deaths of non-believers! Of the unworthy!” shouted Brand. “You’ve shown no remorse at slaying your enemies before. Why now?”

  Marron’s face burned with rage. “Do not question my commitment. I will always do what needs to be done. What is in question is your judgment, your sanity. Faera seems as likely to boil out of the ground and devour us as to reward us."

  “Only if we stand against Faera’s power,” yelled Brand. “As you do now!”

  “You’re a madman!” shouted Marron. “You risk our lives, the whole city, for what? The dreams of long dead fanatics.”

  “They weren’t fanatics six months ago, when you used them to spark the Prelate’s curiosity and curry his favor,” retorted Brand. “They were wise scholars, and their prophecy would give us power to destroy our enemies and elevate the city and all its citizens. And the Prelate himself.”

  “You don’t understand,” said Marron. “Faera was a threat and a weapon, a powerful one. But one we no longer need. We’ve already won. We control the city, the guild, the guard. The Prelate’s dead, and I can easily win the vote of the Council of Lords. I’ll be named the next Prelate. We have what we wanted – more than we wanted.”

  “You have what you wanted, apparently. But not what we worked for.” Brand’s voice was bitter, cutting.

  “Worked for? We used this legend to advance our standing! And now we reign supreme. We have no more need of Faera.”