Kole examined his palm and saw that it was pale, almost the color of the snow they stood atop, and as the fire in his blood worked to bring it back, the pain was strangely intoxicating. This must be what cold felt like. It was like a memory returning from a childhood he had left far behind, before his fire awoke. He remembered diving deep off the shore of the lake, meeting the wall of frigid black where the sun’s rays were lost to the depths. He remembered how his chest had squeezed and his heart had quickened, the thrill of fun on the edge of panic.
Fennick cleared his throat behind him and Kole felt a momentary flush, thinking himself a fool for damaging the queen’s palace before meeting her. He looked back at the place where his hand had been and marveled to see that it was much the same as it had been before, the milky vapors behind the glasslike surface having closed back in. There wasn’t so much as a hint of his heat or a dip in the flat surface of the wall. Jenk moved past him, ignoring the tired groans from Misha and the men who had paused to see what the strange Embers were up to, and mimicked Kole. He, too, gasped before it morphed into a strange mix of pain and exultation, and soon enough, even Misha pressed her hand to the ice that must be made of magic. Her reaction was more even, but she looked up at the sheer walls with some of the awe she’d kept well-hidden before. A shadow passed over her face that Kole counted as fear, though, and as they continued up the stair, he couldn’t entirely dismiss the feeling himself.
What power did it take to make a thing like this? What sort of frost was cold enough to rebuff an Ember’s heat? He had a strange and sudden desire to draw his blades and send a torrent of orange flame at the buttress they found at the top, to see how long it would take for the carved, jagged tips to warp and melt away. A greater part of him feared to try it—not for any imagined retribution by its keeper, but rather by the prospect that it might not work.
They rounded the bend and, after going up for a short distance, began to come down on the inside of the wall, which widened as it approached the frozen sea. They took a narrow staircase down between a trench made as much of the strange ice as it was of obsidian and stone, and when the golden-armored knights and Fennick’s fur-clad soldiers spilled out at the bottom enough for him to see, Kole allowed his breath to be stolen again as he witnessed the majesty of a courtyard that could not have been real.
The whole of it seemed made of dream. There was an oval expanse partially covered by a dusting of snow that painted the surface of gray stones cut into as many shapes as existed. Two more Blue Knights stood framing the entrance to the palace, a doorway that stretched up and up until it was lost to the heights of the tallest tower. Kole looked for the handle of the blue-white door, but saw none, and as he came to stand in the queen’s courtyard, he saw that the doorway was not a doorway at all, but rather a sheer wall he could see within. There were candles dancing on sconces through the glassy surface, stretching far back in a hallway that came up to a white staircase inlaid with gems. It was as if he peered through a mirrored well into another world.
Another cough from Fennick, and Kole, Linn and the rest turned toward the back of the courtyard. Kole had expected to see another sheer wall separating them from the mountains. Instead, his knees went weak as he saw a great opening like the mouth of the World’s heart. The hall stretched away beneath natural fangs that—though twice again Baas’s height—still hung far above their heads. It was a hollow land that spilled down into a subterranean valley, and its distance was lost to sight.
There were arches and bridges, spans and twisting stairs, all of it seemingly cut into the surface of the rock itself. Crystals sprouted like patches of moss or grass, coming in every hue, from snow white to blood red and hypnotic lavender. There were people walking in all directions, spilling from homes cut into the edges, doorways that led to unknown halls and networks of tunnels that must spill into every corner and crevice of the land. There were armorers and craftsmen banging hammers on anvils, carts laden with ore, and smoke drifting from ovens that stood in the center of the expansive way, where the people of the Northvale paused to drink from stone mugs or to pull away salted, glistening strips of meat.
Shifa whined at Kole, twining around his legs. She was as caught up in the excitement of the place as the rest of them, and if the scents of salt, smoke, snow and baked stone overwhelmed him, it must have been a challenge for the hound to stop herself sprinting into the far reaches of the land whose brilliance could not have been overstated.
Fennick’s men had all bled away, some climbing narrow staircases up onto the palace walls while others walked down into the open maw of the subterranean realm. Tundra and the better part of his company still stood near to them, but Kole thought even that one—bitter and distrustful as he seemed—must take some measure of pride in seeing the effect the sight had on them.
“Your home is a place of beauty beyond words,” Baas said, surprising them with his eloquence. He addressed Fennick, and even dipped the beginnings of a bow that the man waved off.
“Not my land,” he said, “not really. We lived on the surface of these peaks far longer than we lived under them. Truth be told, I haven’t entirely grown used to being belowground, cozy as it is. No matter how cold and windy it gets out there, I think I’ll always prefer the company of the clouds and sky to sweating stone.”
Baas gave him the first smile Kole had seen on the man’s face in some time. “This is a treasure, Fennick of the Northvale,” he said. “And I thank you for showing it to me.”
“Don’t thank me quite yet,” Fennick said, his tone a mix of jest and buried tension, and Kole and Linn shared a look before turning toward the man. “The queen will see you,” he said, gesturing back toward the palace. “Remember, we were sent out to gather you, not as friends, necessarily, but rather as potential intruders to these lands.”
Misha placed a hand on her hip, red hair blowing along with the tassels on the ends of her elbows and the haft of her great spear. “Intruders, is it?” she said, though Kole saw the beginnings of a smile hiding behind her teeth. “And here I was just beginning to like you.”
Now Fen dipped into a bow, which he deepened as he switched it to Linn. He came up and nodded to Tundra, a gesture which the Blue Knight did not seem to appreciate. He watched the warrior with a flat, dangerous expression.
“They’re all yours, General Tundra,” he said.
“General,” Jenk said, tasting the word as if it were familiar. “A commander of many, yes?”
Fennick swallowed as Tundra stared a challenge at Jenk. The Ember held his hands up in a placating gesture, but it seemed the Blue Knights did not so easily forget that he had been the one to end the conflict amidst the western cliffs, and under threat of death to one of their own.
“Once,” Tundra said. “There were many. And … perhaps again.”
Kole thought to ask if there were few Landkist being born among the people of the northeast, just as it was with the Embers, but refrained. He had at first thought there would be more of the blue-skinned folk about, apart from Tundra and his Landkist, but he saw none, and the Blue Knights were few.
Kole heard his stomach growl as he turned from the wafting smells and radiant heat of the expansive cave, following Tundra as the armored hulk moved to the edge of the courtyard and came to stand before his fellows. The two knights on either side of the glass barrier held spears that rose even higher than Misha’s, but the Third Keeper of Hearth strode confidently into their midst, very close to Tundra. The Landkist eyed her, but did not let his discomfort show, and Misha turned a smirk back at Kole and Linn, which Jenk shook his head at.
There was a sound like breaking glass, and a rumbling deep underfoot that Baas reacted to first. The Riverman sank to one knee and pressed his palm flat to the stonework, closing his eyes as if listening. Kole watched him, and then he saw the light shift as the sinking sun caught the shifting edges of the glass before them. The doorway began to split in the middle, its twin sides pulling back like glass curtains to reveal the
candlelit hall beyond. Gulls cried as the door’s opening jarred them from their resting places on the spires far above, and Tundra passed through the opening, the dancing fires playing out on the many facets of his brilliant metal and the back of his blue skull.
Baas stood and gave a slight shake, as if confused at the workings of the palace door. Not stone, then, nor any trick of the earth, but rather something of the queen’s magic, or the palace itself.
They followed Tundra down a hall that stretched farther than it had looked when peering through the warped surface of the glass. It was wider and less narrow, with the sconces holding as many candles as the chandeliers the merchants of Hearth would sometimes hang in their summer tents. The stair rose onto a blue-white floor that gave Kole the impression of a frozen lake. He half expected to slip walking across it, and even the modest steps gave him a twinge of aching muscle as his body beneath its shifting black scales begged him for rest.
Ahead, framed between two pillars that were lost to the airy blue heights, was a throne that looked to be carved of bone. It was smooth in some places and rough in others, with spikes ringing the back of the chair and faces seeming to stretch out from the arms. The dais on which it rested was three-tiered, with curved steps leading up to the sheer blue backing.
“Welcome.”
They turned as one to the right, where the chamber came up against an angled wall. There stood a woman no taller than Iyana. She even had the same white hair, and while her skin was light, it bore a hint of the blue that Tundra and the others on the grounds bore. She wore form-fitting armor, silver enough to appear almost white, and in the place of a sword or knife at her belt or a bow at her back, her hands were half covered with strange gauntlets that looked more decorative than practical.
But it was her eyes that struck Kole most. Even from a distance, Kole could see them switching fast as a hawk’s, roving and taking them in, each one from head to toe, and not the group as a whole. She paused briefly on him, lingered on Baas a bit longer than the Embers, but it was Linn who struck her. Those golden eyes were at once beautiful and unsettling to look upon, and the smile she showed them did not reach them entirely.
“Landkist,” she said, coming closer. She seemed to float, gliding across the glasslike floor so that Kole had the impression of a gossamer gown trailing behind her that wasn’t there. “And something else.” She stopped a foot from Linn, who flinched back slightly and frowned through her smile, creating a muddled effect that gave the queen pause.
“I am sorry for my presumptuousness,” she said, winking behind Linn to the place where Tundra stood. “I am so used to my close company. It is strange to have visitors.”
“Visitors, then,” Misha said, her voice echoing harshly in the airy chamber. “And not prisoners?”
The queen stepped back and placed a hand over her chest as if she’d been slapped. “Prisoners?” She floated toward Misha, who did not flinch but rather set her feet. Kole saw her hand twitching back toward the wrapped haft of her Everwood spear.
The queen moved strangely. She was strong. Kole could tell by the way she balanced. As she walked, he saw her hair swish to reveal ears that curved back at the tips, similar to the Faey of the Valley. And though her eyes were fixed on Misha, he held the impression that she was still examining all of them, her mind gliding over them, settling on their dispositions and reactions. He liked her even though he did not know her, and that made him uncomfortable.
“I see no manacles,” she said, reaching for Misha’s hands. The Ember did not refuse or withdraw, for which Kole was thankful. He felt nervous around the queen, remembering that she was, indeed, a Sage, and one strong enough to keep Balon Rael at bay for an untold length of time, and to make the Eastern Dark wait longest before moving against her. “You are guests here, Embers and friends. You are pure. I can see it in your eyes. None of the darkness of the southeast has got into you.” She flashed a piercing look at Kole. “If it had, you’d have been dead before you crossed the threshold.”
It wasn’t uttered as a threat so much as a statement of things that were. This was a confident being, whatever she was. Kole would do his best to match her. For now, they were in her thrall.
“Your palace,” Jenk said, taking the initiative when the others did not, “it is beautiful. And …” He trailed off and let loose a small laugh. “Strange. It looks like—”
“Like magic?” the queen said. Her smile seemed genuine, now. She released Misha’s hands and Kole saw her rubbing the heat back into them as the queen glided toward Jenk. The Ember blushed. His skin had always been light by the standards of the Emberfolk, similar to Captain Talmir’s, and so he could not so easily hide his reaction when it came to a woman’s attentions. “Ah, but it is, Ember of the south,” she said, taking his hands as well. She looked up and Jenk followed her gaze. They all did.
Before, they couldn’t see the distant recesses of the vaulted ceiling, but now, something happened in the glass walls. The milky hues cleared some, like clouds passing by, and the deep blue that was dark enough to be black up above changed as well, turning the color of spring pools that reminded Kole of the stonebacks they had come upon several days before. The whole of it was like the spike on a chandelier, shining as the dying sun admitted its golden rays, which mixed with the facets and lit the chamber brightly. Kole stepped into the beam reflexively and inhaled, feeling exultant as the magnified heat poured into him. Jenk and Misha followed him, and Linn stuck her hand in and withdrew sharply while Shifa circled the edges and pawed the ground nervously.
And then the beam was gone, leaving behind a cold Kole hadn’t noticed before. He opened his eyes to see the queen staring at him, considering.
“As you can see,” she smiled, “I keep the tower opaque lest I burn any visitors away. It seems you are not the only ones with fire.”
“The walls,” Kole said, stepping forward. He felt like a boy prattling on about some new wonder he’d seen. “It’s ice, isn’t it?”
The queen nodded. “Nevermelt.”
“Nevermelt,” Linn said. She sounded doubtful, and the queen turned toward her.
“Nevermelt,” she said again, as if teaching a small child. “I daresay you three could put that to the test.” She again met the Embers’ eyes one after the other. “Though I hope that you will have the decency not to do so in this palace, lest you heat the walls enough to burn away those in the upper chambers.” She smiled again and clapped her hands together, the half-formed gauntlets ringing sharply as she did. “It is a power I have learned by watching my own champions: Tundra and the Blue Knights. They fashion weapons from the stuff. Weapons that are difficult to shatter and that put enemies into a state of shock and bewilderment when they strike. Then again, it is only as apt a name as, say, Everwood.”
Kole’s eyes widened at that, and he saw Misha and Jenk were similarly surprised.
“You know of it?” he asked, hesitant.
The queen laughed, long and loud, and Kole noted Baas frowning at the display, as if he was insulted on Kole’s behalf.
“I may appear young and vibrant,” she said, turning her shoulder in a sultry way and fluttering her lashes behind it. Kole saw Jenk’s knees quiver. “But I am old. Very old. I have known Embers in my day. I have known one in particular.”
Her voice changed at the last, and the mood changed with it. She seemed to sense it, and tried another smile to lighten their moods.
“But then, you are weary,” she said. “I do not mean to pry, but you are in my lands, now. You are, it seems, in my war, and while I like the look of you and sense the purity in your hearts, I require answers of thee.”
“We could say the same,” Kole said. “We have come a long way. And, truth willing, we have come to help you.”
She regarded him coldly at first, and then the ice began to thaw. Just a bit, but enough to wash away some of her easy manner and replace it with a more steady presence. Jenk swallowed as she transformed from the flitting, flirtatious host to
one with a royal air and a strong bearing.
“You will want my name and I will want yours,” she said, moving past them. She paused before Linn and even stepped close to her, so that she was staring up over her chin into those hawk’s eyes. “But then,” her voice dropped, “what shall I call you, young Sageling?”
Linn leaned back as if trying to avoid the truth of the words. She set her jaw. “I am no Sage.”
“You have my brother’s dusty smell on you,” she said, sniffing for effect. “The White Crest, was he calling himself? The minder of your Valley. The keeper of Valour’s bright treasures. A foolish scheme, all told.”
Kole didn’t understand the references, nor did he appreciate the tone, but challenging the queen outright was not something he was prepared to do. He hoped Linn felt the same way. They had to play this right if they were to find the answers they sought. This was the first Sage, after all, that they had met in peaceful circumstances.
“The White Crest was our protector,” Linn said evenly. “Was,” she said again, anticipating the argument. The queen switched from one eye to the other. It seemed as if she were trying to gauge Linn’s belief.
“Perhaps he was after all,” she said with a sigh. She stepped back from Linn. “I am sorry. Truly. I counted Uhtren a friend, once. I counted them all friends. Close enough to call them brother, each in turn. He was a strange one, and private. Not made for fighting but powerful enough to threaten anyone.” She glanced back up at Linn. “How much of his gift got in you? I have never known a Sage to grant his power to a mortal. Not since the Green Beast of Center, and even he made himself into a sword with which his followers could fight by proxy. He grew tired of the war my dark brother and your oldest enemy began.”
“I,” Linn started, seemingly reluctant. “I do not know. I can’t fully explain it.”
“But you do have it,” the queen said. “You used it to split the armor of one of my knights.” Kole looked toward Tundra, who veritably growled.
The Frostfire Sage (The Landkist Saga Book 4) Page 24