by Pedro Urvi
“Will he deign to help?”
“It looks like it. It must be an important discovery.”
The Arcanes, now led by Hotz, began a grand spell. A blue fog covered the block completely, and Lasgol watched the scene enthralled. He had seen the magic and power of the Arcanes in action before, and he recognized it now. He did not know what they were doing or why, but it was Arcane magic of the glaciers, which was always powerful: even more so if twenty of them joined together like this. Suddenly Hotz began to recite other words, another spell. From his hands there issued a purple mist which gradually joined the blue fog enveloping the block of ice. The Arcanes went on with their chant, creating the blue mist, but under Hotz’s greater spell the mist turned purple, with a brightness tinged with blue.
“The hermit is genuinely powerful,” Mayra said. “I can feel the full power of that spell. It’s enormous.”
“I too feel it like that, my lord.”
Hotz rose to his feet with his arms outspread, then began to lower them slowly. As he did so in the midst of that arcane chant, the mist began to subside to the ground, following the movements of his arms. Something strange began to be revealed: where the top of the block of ice had been before, now there was nothing.
Lasgol craned his neck to make sure it was not an optical effect, but it was not: the upper part of the ice had vanished. How they had made it disappear he had no idea, but that ice had been there for a very long time and it was hard as rock. As Hotz went on lowering his arms, the ice went on vanishing. Then, as the mist retreated, a figure was revealed.
“There’s a creature frozen inside?” Mayra asked in surprise.
“That was our hope,” Asrael replied.
Hotz lowered his arms fully, and as the mist spread along the ground it revealed a humanoid figure. All the ice had vanished, as though the mist had melted it and at the same time had evaporated the water. The figure was not human, although it looked rather like it. Its body was reptilian, but it stood erect on two legs and a long tail. Its head resembled that of a snake. It was horrifying.
“Is it a magical creature?”
“Yes, my lord. Otherwise Hotz wouldn’t have been willing. All he’s interested in is magical creatures trapped in the ice. Especially those which wait to be awakened.”
“What kind of creature is it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen one like it. Hotz may know.”
The Erudite meanwhile was casting another spell on the creature, which he had enfolded in a green mist.
“How long has it been frozen inside that block of ice?”
“More than a thousand years.”
“Then it must be dead. It can’t have survived so long.”
“If it’s a magical creature of the ice,” Asrael said, “it might have survived. It’s happened before.”
“That would be very dif—”
Hotz clapped his hands loudly. The creature opened its eyes: yellow, reptilian eyes. And it gave a chilling shriek.
The image vanished at once. Lasgol was left staring open-mouthed at the water of the pond.
“No! I want to see more! What kind of creature was that? What happened?”
There was no answer to his questions. The image did not return. He tried to reactivate the pendant, but was unable to.
“Unbelievable!” he said sadly.
Family, Camu transmitted.
What do you mean, family?
Creature. Family.
The one we just saw in the image on the pond?
Yes. Family.
How can you say that if you don’t know anybody in your family?
Don’t know how.
You don’t know how, but you know it’s your own species?
Yes. Species. Me.
Lasgol was puzzled by this. Are you sure?
Sure not.
Then you think it might be your own species, but you’re not totally sure?
Yes.
Lasgol did not know what to think. That night he could not sleep for puzzling over what he had seen. Either Camu wished this were true, or else in some way his animal instinct had confirmed it. What really worried Lasgol was that the Arcanes of the Glaciers and the Erudite Hotz were reanimating magical creatures which had been frozen for thousands of years. His skin pricked. What kind of creatures were these? What dangers that had been lost for thousands of years might they awake? He had a feeling of something deeply ominous.
At dawn they set off, and he made an effort not to think about what he had found out and its possible repercussions. He found it almost impossible to think about anything else. Luckily it did not seem to have had any effect on Camu and Ona, who were as happy and playful as ever, as if what they had seen was not particularly important. Probably for the two of them it was not, since after all they had no awareness of the scale of the potential problems or dangerous situations. He envied them. Life was a much happier business that way. Unfortunately, he could not allow himself to ignore the gravity of these situations. But this one in particular seemed so distant that he decided to worry about it later on, when it was inevitable.
They finally arrived outside the great capital of the kingdom, Norghania. The city rose imposingly, with the sections of the great wall and nearby buildings which had been damaged or destroyed during the siege by the forces of the West already rebuilt. Immediately he was assailed by memories of the battle which he had tried to banish from his mind. He knew that coming back here was going to bring back many memories, some of them horrible and very painful, so he tried to keep them at bay. He was not very successful. The sight of the royal castle in the center of the city brought back the death of his mother, and his eyes moistened. He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard.
He saw what was undoubtedly the beginning of the end for the West. Camped outside the city were thousands of military tents with different banners. To the south of the city, mercenaries were camped. He did not recognize their banners, but he was sure they were not Norghanian. With his Hawk’s Eye skill, raising himself on the stirrups, he tried to work out the origin of these mercenaries. There were tents, black as night, with banners which showed crossed golden scimitars. Now he was able to see the men who occupied them: tall, dark and muscular. They were Nocean mercenaries from the south of Tremia, from the deserts where the sun is scorching and water more precious than gold. He could make out more than a thousand men, some of them practicing with their scimitars or bows, others resting in the tents.
Many soldiers, Camu messaged.
Yes, and from different places in Tremia.
War?
Yes. There’s a great war coming, unfortunately.
War bad.
Yes, Camu. War is very bad.
Dead.
Yes, I’m afraid many people will die. And not just soldiers, but innocents as well. That’s the worst thing about wars.
Sad.
Yeah, I’m sad too.
Ona growled.
Easy, Ona. Lasgol stroked her back.
He looked closely at another group of five hundred or so mercenaries. These were heavy cavalry in plated armor, carrying long spears and tending to their horses. From their pale faces and chestnut-brown hair, their blue-and-silver uniforms and metal shields, Lasgol guessed that they were soldiers from the realm of Rogdon, to the west of Tremia. Yes, they looked like the famous lancers of the west, unbeatable on their powerful mounts, among the best in the continent. Egil had told him this, and so had his father Dakon. He wondered whether they were mercenaries, or whether Thoran had reached some agreement with the King of Rogdon to send him help. Both kingdoms respected each other, although they had had more than one conflict in the past, but now things seemed to be quiet between them – probably because with one war Thoran already had enough to deal with. If he won it, Lasgol would not be surprised if he started another with the Rogdonians, the Lords of the West.
He identified another large group of mercenaries, but he was unable to tell who they were or where they were from. Tremia was a ve
ry large continent with many realms and races which he did not yet know. Perhaps someday he would be lucky enough to explore new lands beyond Norghana. He sighed deeply. He would love to be able to explore the world. Or if not the whole world, then at least all Tremia, which according to Egil was a huge continent full of beauty and mystery, yet to be discovered and experienced. And probably full of dangers too, but considering what he was seeing and the life he had already known, there would be nothing new about that.
To the east of the capital he could see the tents of the Soldiers of the Thunder Army, unmistakable with their colors and banners. Next, but separated by a hundred paces, were the tents of the Snow Army. What he could not see were the tents of either the Blizzard Army or the Invincibles of the Ice, but the latter would presumably have been inside the city, defending the King, since they were his best men.
His eyes turned to the gates of the big city, which were closely guarded. He would not be able to get through with Ona. A city was no place for her, because she would cause panic among the people and there might be an unfortunate accident. He looked carefully at the forest behind him, which was large and uninhabited. A small stream was visible not far inside it. This would be a good place for her to wait for him.
He pointed to the forest. Ona. Wait. Hide, he messaged her.
The panther looked at the trees, then back at him with sad eyes. She gave a chirp which sounded like a sob.
You can’t come with me. The city’s no place for you.
Once again Ona gave her pleading sob.
I’m sorry. I’ll come back as soon as I can. Don’t worry.
The panther did not want to stay. It was the first time they would have to part. Lasgol had practiced the order with her and hoped, for both their sakes, that she would wait for his return and stay hidden. He looked into her eyes. Yes, she was good and obedient. She would manage perfectly well.
“Ona. Wait. Hide,” he repeated, more emphatically.
The good animal obeyed.
Be careful, Camu called to her.
Ona chirped a goodbye and went into the forest
Lasgol felt deeply sad, as if he were abandoning her, which he would never do. This was something they both had to get used to, because it would happen again. The civilized world and the wild one must remain separate, for the good of both of them.
Camu, invisible. Trotter, we’re going to the city, he messaged his friends, and they set off toward Norghania, the tough and stoical capital of the kingdom of Norghana.
Chapter 22
The guard halted Lasgol when he went through the eastern gates of the great wall that surrounded the city. He introduced himself as a Ranger and showed them the medallion that proved it, and the captain of the guard let him through without any trouble.
As he walked along the crowded streets of the great city on his way to the Royal castle, he had a strange feeling, remembering the battle that had taken place here and everything that had happened afterwards. When he relived the great betrayal in the Throne Hall and his mother’s death, pain flooded his heart and sadness took over his soul, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. These feelings were very strong and deep-rooted, the kind nobody can shrug off.
Trotter made his way slowly on. The streets of the city were crowded with soldiers and citizens going one way and another, like bees flying around a honeycomb. The poor pony had trouble moving forward, because countless people were constantly crossing their path, on foot and on horseback, and he was forced to stop abruptly in order to avoid bumping into anybody. He was not used to the bustle of the great city, and neither was Lasgol, who was staring wide-eyed around him. The capital, already a busy place, was currently jam-packed. To the residents of the city, had to be added refugees from the nearby villages, together with troops and all the administration and support staff of the army.
Go slowly, he communicated mentally to Trotter, but don’t stop all the time, or else we’ll never get to our destination, with all these people coming and going everywhere.
The pony neighed and shook his head. He had not liked the order.
Move forward. Slowly, Lasgol repeated more simply, so that the pony would understand the message behind the words. He sometimes forgot that neither Trotter nor Ona had Camu’s ability to understand more complex messages.
Gradually the pony made his way on, even though it meant an enormous effort for him. The city was not exactly his natural environment. They passed first through the poorer quarters where the workers and the humblest people lived. It was a dirty, ugly area, where the difficulties of people without means were noticeable. And if their lives were hard already, now in times of , where everything was scarce – mainly food – they were suffering even more. It made Lasgol feel even more melancholy. Next they went on to the market area, and here he had to lead Trotter to keep him out of those areas where it was impossible to take a single step amid the crowds of peddlers and customers trying to make a living. He led the pony to the area of craft workshops, where although the streets were still busy, they were a little easier to cross. From there they made their way to an upper-class area. Here, finely-built houses were noticeable, and even , which Lasgol knew belonged to Eastern nobles who were linked by blood to the King and his brother.
In this area Trotter was able to move faster, since there were fewer people and the streets were wide and well-paved. The surroundings of the royal castle were heavily guarded by the soldiers of the Royal Guard. Here there were many fewer civilians, as if they were aware that this was not a place where they ought to be. Finally they reached the castle gate, and once again Lasgol had to introduce himself to the officer in charge. He was not surprised, since he knew it was the normal procedure. What was different was the fact that now there were many more soldiers than usual everywhere. He had the impression that the King had made very sure he himself was well protected.
Once inside, he was able to identify the Invincibles of the Ice with their white breastplates and cloaks. As he had guessed, the King kept them close to him, protecting castle and throne. They were everywhere: barracks, walls, battlements and towers. They were the best heavy infantry on the continent, or so people said, so Thoran was well protected. In front of the barracks, a large group was practicing with swords and round shields. Lasgol stopped to watch them for a moment; they were really good. He also noticed that there was some new blood among them, that many of those practicing were younger than usual among the Invincibles, who, as a rule only accepted soldiers who had wide experience or were very skilled swordsmen. He remembered the casualties they had suffered in the war, and guessed they had recruited new members. They were being trained relentlessly. An Invincible was not created in two seasons, far from it. He felt bad for those lads. In the current situation, they would soon be seeing action.
He sighed and made his way to the royal stables. Camu. Behave, he messaged, to make sure his companion did not get up to any mischief.
I always.
Lasgol could not see him, but he guessed he must be smiling from ear to ear.
He left Trotter in the stables, where he would be taken good care of, even though they were already packed with mounts. He took weapons and satchel, and when he approached the castle itself, an officer and two soldiers came over to him.
“Identify yourself,” said the officer, who was huge and battle-hardened. The two soldiers with him were even bigger, and their expressions were grim. They looked as though they were capable of felling a tree with a single stroke of the axe. These were the welcoming committee.
“Ranger Lasgol Eklund,” he introduced himself.
The Officer looked him up and down. “D’you have orders?”
“Yes, sir.” Lasgol showed them to him, but did not let go of them, because they were for Gondabar.
“Good. Nobody’s allowed in the castle without an authorized reason. Security measures.”
“I understand.”
“You can’t stray from the authorized areas.”
“A
nd which are those?”
“Wait here. I’ll get the Rangers’ Liaison Officer to deal with you and tell you what you need to know.”
“All right.”
The officer went away at a brisk pace, leaving him with the two huge soldiers, who were glaring at him as if they were looking for a fight.
Soldiers ugly, Camu transmitted.
Lasgol had to hold back a smile. True, they really are.
Stupid too.
That we don’t know.
I do.
You know too much for your own good.
Yes. I very smart.
It’s better to be prudent than to be very smart.
No, better smart.
Lasgol snorted in amusement, and the two soldiers stiffened. He kept still in case they might think he was provoking them. In Norghana the slightest gesture was considered a provocation. Well, that was because Norghanians loved a good fight, almost as much as they loved beer and axes. In fact, the two soldiers did not look like the brightest sparks in the kingdom, but Lasgol had learnt from Egil that you should never judge a book by its cover. So he tried to start a friendly conversation while they waited for the liaison officer.
“Plenty of troop movement, eh?”
“And what’s that to you?” barked the fairer of the two.
“No… nothing… I was just commenting that the city’s very busy.”
The redhead arched an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t be a spy, would you?”
“Spy? Me? Of course not.”
The two soldiers looked at him with narrowed eyes. Their hands reached for the axes at their belts.
Ugly. Stupid. Dangerous, Camu transmitted.
Lasgol had to admit that he was right, but did not tell him so. He had enough to put up with from him as it was, without telling him he was right and letting it go to his head.
“Lasgol!” came a shout.
When he looked past the soldiers and recognized the redhead coming over with the officer, he raised his hand. “Nilsa!”
She broke into a run, smiling from ear to ear. Both soldiers turned half-around as she reached them.