by Franc Ingram
"Silver and Dexter, grab those curtains," Lorn said, pointing to the thick maroon drapes that hung on either side of the window. "We can use them to catch her once she's free of the wall. Dexter, since we're the tallest we can brace the top while Paxis and Silver break the webs." Lorn turned to Samantha. "Since it was your idea you get to pull her free."
Silver and Dexter were already pulling at the curtains by the time Lorn finished talking. Paxis positioned himself in front of one set of spider web tendrils. Lorn maneuvered himself so he could be next to the block of ice, but well out of the way of Paxis' swing. Dexter handed him the end of the curtain before walking around to the other side. They pulled it tight against the ice as high as they could reach, which was about a foot above Oleana's head.
Lorn said a silent prayer to The Twelve that it would work. He knew they weren't gods, even knew they probably weren't listening, but he needed something higher than himself to hold onto and they were all he had.
Paxis signaled to Silver and they both swung freely, sending ice everywhere. Lorn turned his head away to keep from getting it in his eyes. He felt some shards hit the back of his head and across his shoulders, sending cold through his body. He stood stiff against it, knowing that soon none of it would matter because his mother would be free.
The spider web ice was surprisingly thin. It cracked and splintered with ease. The thick stone walls absorbed most of the noise so unless someone was walking by the door they wouldn't have heard a thing. Once the higher-level webbing was gone, Lorn felt the weight of the ice press against the curtain. He had to plant his feet as best he could against the slick floor to hold the weight in place. He could see Dexter's usually doughy face wrinkled up with the effort as well.
Lorn had lifted his mother before, so he knew how much she weighed, but the ice added considerable heft. It looked bad for them being able to free her easily. Lorn couldn't think about that, just as he didn't want to think about what carving her out of the ice would do to her. Her face clearly showed her in pain. He had no idea what kind of injuries she had previously suffered at the hands of the demented would-be ice god. The ice may have been the only thing keeping her alive. Once it was gone, would he have to watch her bleed out on the floor in front of him?
Lorn couldn't believe life would be that cruel. Not again. If it came to that, Lorn would use what regeneration energy he had left to save her. He didn't want to go through another life without her anyway. He would give that to her, as she had so generously given to Leith.
The webbing was all gone, and it was time to lower her to the floor. It sounded easier than it was. Some of the weight of the ice was on the curtains but when Lorn and Dexter started to lower it the block still clung to the wall.
"Paxis could you give us a hand?" Lorn asked.
Paxis nodded before squeezing in behind him to use one of his arrows like a dagger to knock free whatever bits of ice still adhered to the wall. Then Lorn and Dexter struggled to lower the massive block as gently as possible, making the barest of squeaks as Oleana touched down.
Lorn stood, his back complaining the whole way, reminding him that he wasn't entirely healed from the beating he'd taken earlier. He was once again pushing his body to the limit. His youth helped, but it wouldn't continue to take such abuse indefinitely.
What Lorn saw once the dust settled didn't make him happy. Oleana's back was sheathed in ice as well. It might have been somewhat thinner than what was on the front, but it would still take some chipping away to get her loose and they didn't have the tools to do the delicate work.
"Blast it," Lorn complained.
"What do we do?" Sam asked, her eyes strong and calm.
Again, Lorn felt the electricity building on his skin. It was hard for him to see any way past it. They may have lost, and Lorn knew he wouldn't be able to drag himself away from her. He could see them dragging him away kicking and screaming, putting them all in danger. But he couldn't leave without her.
"We'll just have to dig her out, then fight our way free. No other option," Paxis stated, his voice hard and resolute.
"I can't ask you to do that," Lorn said, starring down at the back of his mother's head. He could see her uneven hair where Cornelius had severed her dreadlocks to present them as his trophy back in Evermore. "Go save yourselves."
Dexter laid his hand on Lorn's shoulder and looked him in the eye. "We came to save you, by order of two Kings of the Realm. Can't leave without you."
Lorn laid his hand on his mother's coffin. He was facing an impossible choice once again. Risk the lives of those he was responsible for, or give up on his mother. The last time he’d had to stare down Cornelius and tell that monster they weren't going to play his game. With those words, he'd said goodbye to his mother, the only parent he'd ever known, for the sake of the world. He couldn't do it again. Not with her right in his arms.
It took a moment for Lorn to realize what was going on, but where his hands hit the ice was melting around them. The budding static electricity his anger caused was melting the ice. The process was slow, but there was a definite change.
"I might have a better way," Lorn said. He dared to hope he had enough energy in his reserves for what needed to be done. But even if he used every ounce he had it would be worth it. "I think I can gather up enough static electricity to blast through the ice, but it's going to make some noise, so be ready."
"Are you sure you're up for this?" Paxis asked.
Lorn could see a caricature of his reflection in the ice. His skin was pale, bruised, and drawn. He looked like he was close to collapse. Beads of sweat popped out over his forehead from the exertions he'd already expended. Lorn looked away, it didn't matter, he'd find the strength needed.
"Be ready," Lorn warned. "Sam, be prepared to pull her out, gently."
Lorn let his anger build. He thought about Cornelius and all the pain he'd rained down on Lorn, on Oleana, on so many people. He thought about the false god up in this room staring at Oleana in pain, amused by his own handiwork. He thought about the loss they'd suffered at Caledon, the soldiers dead on the battlefield, blood and pain all over their faces. That's who Cornelius was, an agent of pain and destruction and Lorn refused to let that monster keep his mother.
The hairs on his hands and arms stood up. His pulse raced and Lorn felt flushed, like he'd dipped his body into a hot spring. He tried to focus all that energy into the tips of his fingers, letting it build there before releasing it in one big wave.
Paxis and Silver were at the door with their backs to Lorn, ready to take on anyone that dared come through. Dexter was in front of Lorn, ready to protect him and Sam as they did their work.
"Ready," Lorn repeated just to be sure they were prepared, to be sure he was prepared.
His fingers were on fire trying to keep the energy contained. He could smell the burning of his flesh, like fresh meat held over an open flame too long. But he held off until he couldn't take it anymore, until the white-hot pain and pressure pushing against every inch of his skin was too much to bear.
Then, with a crackle and a flash of white light, he let go in an erratic rush and heard the sharp squeal of the ice crack and break, falling away. The metallic smell of fresh ozone clogged the air, and excess electricity made every hair on Lorn's body stand erect. The sudden release slammed Lorn onto his backside. His head spun, fractured colors dancing across his vision. The dried, overstretched skin on his hands burned from the inside out. It was a pain that he could focus on, that helped sober him. He staggered to his feet and rushed to his mother's side.
The outline of Oleana came clear as Lorn brushed the ice away in a hurry. Sam grabbed a leg and pulled until Oleana was out of the smoking mound of ice. Her body remained stiff and Lorn detected no signs of breathing. He flipped Oleana over and put his ear to her chest, but she was as still as the grave. Cold as the ice they'd freed her from.
Lorn put his hands on her chest and the residual electricity arched between all of them, making the three of the
m jump. "I'm okay." Sam insisted before Lorn could ask.
"I'm sorry," he mouthed. He turned back to Oleana. Color rushed to her face, her back arched, and she gasped for air, her eyes opening wide as the captured scream rang out.
Lorn grabbed her up in his arms, stroking her hair and rubbing her back, trying to sooth the contortions her body was wracked by. She felt so soft and delicate next to him, compared to the rigid ice they extricated her from.
"Get her under control," Paxis urged.
"I'm trying." Lorn shot back, scowling.
Oleana continued to cry out, her eyes now held tight against whatever built-up pain that coursed through her revived nerves.
"It's okay Mom, it's okay, I'm here." He rocked her back and forth, holding her shivering body tighter to his chest, pleading for it all to be over.
"Lorn," she wheezed.
Lorn looked down to see his mother starring up at him, not the distant, unfocused look she had at first, but she really saw him. She studied his face, recognition and relief flooding her cheeks.
"Mom, I'm here."
"Lorn," Oleana said before her body went slack and her eyes fell closed. Lorn panicked thinking she was dead, the transition had been too much. But then he felt her chest rise and fall. She was sleep.
"Can we go?" Paxis asked.
Lorn scooped Oleana up and stood. "Let's be rid of this place." Lorn started toward the door when he noticed something on the opposite side of the room that Oleana had been on. It was another block of ice, but this one was also thawing because of the energy Lorn released.
Coming free of the ice was the head of Tannin, his eyes shut and face slack. Lorn vaguely remembered the sad condition Tannin had been in the last time he saw the multiform. Cornelius must have given him the ice treatment to save him.
Lorn didn't know how much damaged he'd done to Tannin in an attempt to free Oleana. Most of him didn't care. The fact that he didn't have time to do anything about it sealed the deal. Lorn walked past without giving the frozen multiform another thought.
Before they all got into the hall, three Failsea guards came running down to greet them. Paxis was quick to take one out, Silver the other. The third retreated before meeting his fate. They edged forward, Lorn feeling extremely vulnerable with his hands so full.
They made it to the stairs without any more trouble, but there was the trap. Coming around the curve was a contingent of five warriors at the bottom. Lorn turned back to see more troops coming down behind them.
Arrows went flying in both directions and Lorn itched to be part of the fight. Instead, he held Oleana closer, protecting her with as much of his body as he could. He trusted his team. They were the best. They would get his mother home.
Paxis and Silver stood side by side like and arrowhead cutting a path forward. The pair knew how to use their bows as effectively for close combat fighting as they did for shooting arrows at a great distance. Like Lorn, the rest of the squad wasn't just good with bows. Lorn had hand-picked his squad because they were good archers and because they knew how to work as a team. They knew well the importance of being flexible in combat. They'd trained for months together before going to Caledonia.
He made sure he felt comfortable fighting with them before their first big battle. The loss there wasn't on them. He'd failed to have his mind on what was important, distracted by thoughts of a risky rescue. Now that he had his mother back, Lorn had to find a way to make it up to them. He had to make up for all the mistakes and selfish decisions.
They'd fought their way past a dozen or more troops when Paxis got caught up and Lorn had to take the lead. He found the door Mevra and Allana had run toward earlier and guessed that was the way out. When Paxis urged him on, Lorn pushed the door open with his shoulder. It led to another winding staircase. This one had the bite of cold air winding up through it.
Lorn shifted Oleana's unconscious weight in his arms before taking it at a run. He saw the barest touches of moonlight pouring through before he saw the end of the stairs. He hesitated before going out, turning around to see if the others were following him. He peered outside to see what dangers awaited him there, but all he saw was the night sky and an icy dirt road.
For a moment, Lorn considered laying Oleana down and heading back up the steps to help the others. Then he heard footsteps slapping against the stone, and he saw Sam propping up a bleeding Dexter. He was holding his right arm where a ragged gash had torn away cloth and flesh.
"Go!" Sam yelled.
"What about the others?"
"Go," she urged, pushing him forward.
Lorn broke out into the night, frigid air hitting him in the face and making his breath catch in his throat. He turned his head down to the wind and moved forward without any clear direction. As long as they were moving away from the fortress, Lorn was satisfied.
Hanging in the air was the lingering taste of ash. It fell on Lorn's lips like grit. He looked to see the main door of the keep was singed, a half-burned pile of wood propped against it. That must have been the distraction the three women, Mevra, Allana, and Kasis had created to give them time. Lorn hoped they'd made it down the mountain afterwards.
He followed the path down, moving as fast as his burning legs could carry him. He didn't stop for what felt like an hour. All he could do was occasionally look behind him, making sure Sam and Dexter where there. He checked to see if Silver and Paxis were coming.
Lorn kept going until he heard his name, like the mountain itself was calling to him. He looked up, thinking it was The Twelve finally making contact.
"Sire, over here," Kasis stepped out from a set of bushes enough to let Lorn see the faint outline of her in the moonlight, the only native of Caledon on the team, a tall, slender woman with light brown skin and a silky black braid going halfway down her back.
Lorn scrambled behind the bushes, following Kasis as she led them deeper into the thin line of foliage, until they hit a cave. Lorn saw the first flickers of a fire once they moved past the threshold. Allana and Mevra were there setting up a little camp. As soon as Lorn got close enough to feel the warmth of the fire, his legs gave out and he sunk to his knees. Mevra was quick to move in to take Oleana from him and lay her gently on the ground. Allana helped Dexter sit.
"Where are the others?" Allana asked, looking past Dexter toward the mouth of the cave.
"Paxis and Silver made sure our exit was clear," Sam said, her voice shaking.
Lorn knew that if things were okay the others would have caught up with them already. Lorn had moved fast down the hill but he was encumbered, which slowed his pace considerably. It should have given Paxis time to catch them.
He didn't want to say it, but he suspected they’d been captured. Or dead. Lorn looked at Oleana, resting comfortably under the blanket Mevra put over her. He brushed the loose hair out of her face. He'd risked too much to get her, and now he had a lot to make up for.
CHAPTER TWELVE: THE COURT
Lysander was pulled away from his father's bedside at the insistence of The Court. He was dragged away like some criminal with two Darten guards on either side of him. He tried to maintain a relaxed attitude, but tension ricocheted between them slapping across Lysander with every step. The part of him that was the son of the Regent of Caledon wanted to put on a neutral face and pretend all was good, keep his true feelings bottled up and play the part. Then there was the side of Lysander that was an Heir of Eternity, Master of Earth, the man connected to a power that was wild, raw, and powerful who refused to put on a mask. He refused to pretend to be okay with being treated in such an undignified, disrespectful way.
So, Lysander let his anger build. His teeth scraped against each other as the muscles in his jaw pulsated with his heartbeat. He could hear his quick breaths screaming through his puffed-out nostrils as he picked up speed walking down the hall. There was no need to delay meeting with The Court, he had a lot he wanted to get off his chest.
As soon as the guard on his left opened the door to the Gra
nd Room, Lysander couldn't help but zero in on where Leith was first. The Master of Animals looked equally perturbed about being summoned like a lap dog. The dark circles under his eyes showed not only the worry they shared over Lorn's absence, but the hard work he'd put in resettling the incoming refugees into their already overstuffed city. They locked eyes for a second and Leith tensed, sitting up straighter in his chair. Lysander didn't let that deter him. He was going to voice what had been on his mind for days.
"Why are we here?" Lysander asked before taking a seat. He sat forward in his chair until the underside of his ribs were pressed against the table. His arms were folded across the polished wooden surface.
Born cleared his throat, making a point to look to Leith and avoid Lysander's gaze. "We need to discuss the tragic events at Caledonia and Sartis." Born cut his dark eyes over to Lysander as if all the blame rested on the Master of Earth's shoulders. "Two major cities were lost. Did you think that was just going to be overlooked? Forgotten?"
"My father can't feel anything from the waist down." Lysander flashed back to the moment where he watched his father get impaled by a sword on the battlefield. His throat was still raw from the bitter scream he'd let out that day. He felt Leith's rough hand graze his arm and was pulled back to the present. Lysander blinked twice to refocus on Born's stern face. "An elevated soldier ran him through that day. Neither my father, nor I will ever forget it."
Lysander stood in a huff. His leg muscles twitched, his heart pounded. He needed to be on the move, otherwise The Court could pounce and take him down. "We sacrificed a lot on that battlefield and you," Lysander pointed at Born, in his fine clothes, coiffed hair, and smooth skin without a single battle scar, "who didn't lift a single weapon, have the nerve to demand answers as to why things went wrong?" Lysander was tempted to circle around the table and hover in Born's face, but he resisted the urge knowing being that close would give him too easy an opportunity to sock the man in his angry little face.