Plague of Ice dad-7

by T. H. Lain

  She was getting tired. The cold invigorated her, and the open air felt like liberation after the tight passageways down below, but this blast of energy slowly faded as days of exhaustion caught up with her. Sweat trickled down Sonja's cheeks, and she felt a lump of fear in her throat. She could hear Glaze trotting after her, claws scraping on the ice.

  Rage gave Glaze energy. With his wings too badly damaged for flight, the dragon was reduced to something akin to a massive, mad dog, chasing its prey round and round the icy towers. Sonja wove and dodged the relentless pursuit. She managed to stay about one tower ahead of the dragon at all times, but she was tiring and Glaze was not.

  The others were too busy fending off the mephits to keep track of Sonja, and doubly so since Regdar's incapacitation. As one mephit dived for the rift, hoping to take advantage of Regdar's inaction, Hennet jabbed at it with his short spear. The mephit was too far away, but it was leery of the spear and pulled back. Lidda had quickly learned that the moment when they drew back was the mephits' weakness. The abrupt change of direction forced them to drastically slow their flight. As the creature stopped short of Hennet's spear, it hung motionless in the air for just a moment-long enough for Lidda to launch a crossbow bolt through its belly. It shrieked as it tumbled down onto the point of Hennet's spear. The sorcerer thrust upward, neatly impaling the creature. He flicked it forward quickly, dislodging the body with great force so that it sailed halfway across the field.

  "That's what'll happen to the rest of you," Hennet shouted, eyeing the mephits through the thin haze of his own misty breath.

  "How are you doing?" Lidda asked Regdar.

  Regdar didn't reply. His teeth were clenched behind taut, blue lips. Moisture around his tightly squeezed eyes froze into tiny, white pearls of ice. He wanted to scream against the metallic cage of cold formed by his armor, but he refused with Hennet present. He stood rigid as a golem, his flesh freezing and burning, and waited an eternity for the cold to fade.

  Across the field, Sonja's energy was running out. She felt her legs ready to buckle beneath her, and she could not yet call down another lightning bolt. Slipping behind a tower still crusted in a thick layer of ice, she put her faith in a spell that had saved her parents countless times on the Endless Glacier. Her entire form became the white of snow, and she slipped up against the tower's side.

  A minute, she thought, maybe two, then the lightning will have gathered its strength for another strike. Then the dragon would die. Glaze was born on the tundra, too, with great intuition about his native surroundings, but the dragon was not smart. He reacted out of instinct. Sonja used this to lure Glaze away from the rift.

  Now she was in a position where Glaze's instincts could prove deadly. There might be no fooling such a creature, no hiding from his heightened senses. She flattened herself as best she could against the icy tower, hoping desperately that her ruse would keep her invisible long enough.

  When Glaze emerged around the tower, it was the first time Sonja got a good look at the creature. He limped, and his left wing was in tatters. The beast stopped and growled. Sonja left no footprints on the ice, yet Glaze somehow knew she hadn't gone past here. He could smell her presence in the air. Like a scaly bloodhound he sniffed the air, trying to trace the druid's path. He looked up to see if she somehow climbed the tower, then clawed the ground in frustration. Dismayed, the dragon began pacing round the tower, scouring every inch for his wayward prey.

  Glaze picked a random section of the tower, stared at it intensely, and then slashed it with his claws and snapped at it with his jaws. Content that this wasn't the spot, he moved on and repeated those actions a few feet farther on. Sonja meticulously shifted her way round the tower, moving imperceptibly ahead of the searching dragon.

  The dragon stopped in his tracks and cast a look at her location. She stopped, standing very still. Slowly, deliberately, the dragon moved in her direction. Glaze's throat rumbled and his eyes were riveted directly on Sonja's invisible form. He knew exactly where she was. Sonja was sure of that. She was trapped, and she would live only until the dragon opened his jaws.

  A single mephit swooped close to the rift, staying just out of the reach of Hennet's spear. It hurled incoherent curses and taunts as it dodged Lidda's crossbow bolts.

  "Tell your friends they can give up," Hennet advised the mephit. "We'll never let you through."

  "Your Pendant is gone for good," Lidda said.

  "Whaaat say you, large one?" it hissed at the unmoving Regdar. "Is iiit too cold for you?"

  Regdar could hold hack no longer. He opened his mouth and let out an agonized yowl. As he did, he bent down, armor squealing in protest, and grabbed his greatsword off the ground. An upward slash struck the unprepared mephit directly between the legs and sliced completely through its body. The mephit fell into halves before their eyes.

  "You're all right!" Lidda cried.

  "Not yet," said Regdar as he straightened his back painfully. "I think I'm just too cold to feel how bad it really is."

  Glaze plunged a talon at Sonja's location and she pulled slightly to the right. He snapped at her and she shifted slightly to the left. She realized that she lived only by virtue of the dragon's playful malice. In the sky above she saw static electricity dancing among the clouds, and she felt its strains moving through her own bones, awaiting her command. At last she gauged that she could draw down another lightning bolt, but now it was too late and the dragon was too close. She needed distance between herself and Glaze.

  Sonja bolted from the tower in a great burst of speed. Her spell of concealment faded as she raced right past Glaze. Immediately the dragon was after her as she charged toward the rift, but she had intentionally run to his right, knowing the beast would have a harder time turning away from his injured side. She ran and ran, and when she was sure she had enough distance between herself and Glaze she stopped and whirled to launch her spell.

  As she did, a well-placed mephit exhaled a blast of ice along the back of her head and neck. Its breath would have constituted little more than a nuisance in another circumstance, but the unexpected assault broke the druid's concentration and scuttled her spell. Lightning flashed down from the storm but without Sonja's direction. It struck randomly, disintegrating an unfortunate mephit and melting the ice within a ten-foot radius. A splash of steaming water struck the mephit that attacked Sonja and instantly dissolved its wings and half its body. The creature flopped to the ground where it squealed in agony until the warm liquid melted it completely.

  Undeterred, Glaze bounded headfirst into Sonja, knocking her backward into the snow. She reached for her cudgel to strike back, but the dragon was quicker. He unleashed the full force of his powerful breath onto her. Her hand jutted forward in an instinctive but useless act of self defense. The dragon's breath buffeted her with an awesome mix of freezing air, gale-force wind, and icy magic. She was wrapped in a cocoon of cold, unable to breathe or see. Searing waves of cold pierced the core of her being. When she tried to scream, her throat filled with ice. She tried to struggle, but ice bound her limbs in place. A white field wrapped across her eyes, burned her face, shut her off from the world.

  Exalting, Glaze moved in for the kill. Mephits flanked him, several alighting on the dragon's back or hovering next to his shoulders, all of them hissing in glee at the ice druid's impending death.

  Across the field, still standing guard before the rift, Hennet looked at Lidda, Lidda looked at Regdar, and Regdar looked at Hennet. Each sought some sort of encouragement or dissuasion. They needed confirmation that the plan could be changed, that they had to fight for everyone's life. Most of all, they had to agree that letting Sonja die that way would serve no higher purpose.

  Abandoning their positions at the rift might be wrong, but no matter the consequences, it was what they needed to do.

  As one they sprang across the field toward Glaze and Sonja. Hennet launched a magic missile, the last he had prepared, and it struck the dragon's side. Glaze turned away from
Sonja to face the new threat instead. The mephits flew away and winged their way toward the rift, cackling delightedly to each other. This had been their hope all along. But none of the advancing heroes turned back to watch the mephits vanish through the undefended rift into the Plane of Ice.

  Glaze sucked in a mighty breath, but then his targets scattered, leaving the monster unsure where to attack. Regdar veered to the right, Hennet to the left, and Lidda kept coming straight on. Confounded, Glaze lunged toward the smallest foe, but the halfling dived into the snow. She slid under the dragon and slashed her sword upward as she went, drawing blood from Glaze's tender underbelly. Hennet drove his spear through the dragon's already-damaged wing and sliced with it, and Regdar slashed at the scaly, flailing tail.

  The dragon snarled, clawed, twisted, and roared, railing against his assailants. Lidda sank her sword deeper into Glaze's belly. Hennet stabbed his spear into the side of the dragon's neck, bringing a steady stream of blood that pulsed like a tiny geyser. Shocked and howling with pain, Glaze made a last attempt to escape. Jumping, whirling, spinning uncertainly, he spilled dragon blood across the white field until the ground was cloaked like a red carpet.

  Recovering his wits at last, Glaze gathered his limbs beneath him and set himself to bound free of his attackers. In the moment when the dragon was coiled and motionless, Regdar's greatsword stabbed into his flank just ahead of Glaze's right haunch. The blade sliced forward through flesh and ribs until entrails tumbled free. The dragon roared, firing a blast of icy power straight up into the sky then down into the ground with such force that the frozen paving stones buckled. His attackers scrambled away from the flailing limbs. Thrashing and writhing, Glaze raged against the pain until the beast finally lay still. Within moments, frost coated the gory heap.

  Hennet, Regdar, and Lidda didn't spare a minute on the spectacle of the dead dragon. When they turned to look at Sonja, they saw her emerge from the cocoon of ice. She was transformed, no longer a frail human in a hostile environment but master of the element glorying in its strength. Her pale cheeks were streaked with lines of fiery red. She clutched her cudgel in a fist rimed with ice, and glittering crystals scattered from her blonde hair, to be carried on the wind toward the yawning rift.

  They faced her almost sheepishly, having violated her orders to guard the rift no matter what, but there was neither disappointment nor blame in her voice, only determination.

  "None of you must follow me now," she said. Her voice rang with icy, otherworldly detachment. "None of you could survive where I must go. This time, your own lives depend on you obeying my command."

  With that, she turned toward the rift. Her white robes fluttered and crackled like ice as she ran and jumped. A white flash outlined the invisible rift, and she was gone.

  For long moments they stood gazing at the spot of air where she disappeared. Eventually Regdar said, "We must still guard the rift. If any of the mephits find the pendant, they'll try to come back through. It's up to us to kill them before they can do any more damage."

  Lidda agreed, but Hennet said nothing. He was lost in his own thoughts.

  "Hennet?" Lidda asked, tugging at his leg.

  The sorcerer looked down on the halfling and put his hand on her head.

  "I'm sorry," he told her.

  Hennet turned to Regdar, meeting his eyes for the first time since their feud in the treasure room, and said, "I have to know."

  At that, he too rushed through the rift, vanishing into the cold oblivion.

  "Hennet, don't!" Lidda shouted but too late. She clutched Regdar's hand. "Regdar, we have to go after him. He'll die in there!"

  Regdar shook his head. His first instinct was to say, "Some of us have to be smart," but he thought of Naull and what he would have done, months ago in the City of Fire, if a portal had existed linking him to her. With that memory in mind, he gauged his words more carefully. Instead, he said, "Hennet made his own choice, as surely as Sonja has."

  All they could do was wait.

  15

  A world of white.

  So it seemed to Hennet, as if the entire world had faded away and been replaced with only whiteness. As a little boy it had always bothered him, that moment of winter when the sky and the land lined up in color so precisely that the horizon could not be identified, so that ground and air ceased to be separate entities but merged and transformed into a vast gray-white waste. This place, the unloved pocket of the multiverse Sonja called the Elemental Plane of Ice, was a thousand times worse.

  The ground beneath his feet was rock solid but white. Hennet wondered if there was any real surface land on this plane at all or only ice on ice. The air was filled with tiny, white particles, something akin to snowflakes but more jagged and hostile. To Hennet's horror, they weren't falling. They hovered in the air, perfectly still and stable, kept in place by forces Hennet could not even guess at. As he waved his hand through the air, they melted away from the heat brought by proximity to his flesh. Above, he could see through this forest of ice an indifferent, bluish glow which seemed to emanate from all parts of an apparently sunless sky. This was all he could see. His vision was so impaired by the impenetrable weather that he could not see Sonja, the ice mephits, or the rift through which he just came.

  He felt no wind. Hennet half-expected the Plane of Ice would be forever wracked by the same howling winds that demolished the Fell Forest, but at this moment at least there was instead an unearthly quiet over the place, a hush that Hennet did not find peaceful at all but deeply unsettling.

  What of the rift? he wondered. On the other side it blew fiercely as the elemental material was sucked back into this plane, but here? Perhaps it didn't blow spectacularly with wind and fury but simply diffused its essence back into the Plane itself.

  Hennet stood, short spear at the ready, puzzled about what to actually do. Ice from the ground crept up his legs and coated them in a sheen of frost. The air itself, the jagged snowflakes that stared at him so menacingly, came closer, clinging to his face and his hair and his arms and his torso.

  His blood froze.

  He couldn't imagine the air being colder than what he'd faced these last days in the cold zone, but the Plane of Ice knew temperatures far below even the coldest, most remote recesses of the Endless Glacier, where neither man nor mammoth nor frost giant ever dared set foot. Water froze. Flesh froze. Ice froze. To Hennet it seemed that no creature, not even Sonja, not even the mephits, could survive for long in so harsh a place as this. This for him was the wellspring of all cold, the ultimate source not only of the plague of ice that now threatened Atupal and Klionne but of all winters, all frosts, all sudden cold spells that kill crops and children alike. It was the evil of cold and the cold of evil.

  So Hennet thought as the harsh chill penetrated his bones, and all thoughts left him but for a distant yearning for the comforts of a place by the hearth and two warm arms enfolding him.

  "Hennet!"

  The name echoed through this strange world, striking the sorcerer with the force of a magic missile to his brain. He shook off the ice that settled on his limbs and jogged painfully in the direction of the voice, pushing his way through the icy particles that clung to the air. Peering through the frozen fog hanging all around him, he desperately searched for the source of the sound.

  "Sonja!" he yelled as loudly as he could, shaking frost off his vocal cords. He heard the fluttering of wings swooping past him and instinctively whirled about to face it, but he saw nothing. There Hennet stood, once again inert and unsure of where to turn next.

  "Keep moving! If you stand still, you'll freeze in moments," the welcome female voice cried again. "Come to the sound of my voice! We must keep them from getting the Pendant!"

  Where is the pendant? Hennet wanted to shout as he forced his way through the sluggish air, but all he could produce was an inarticulate string of random syllables. In the icy silence, he faintly heard the mephits' wings beat as they flew above him, doubtless scanning for their unholy pr
ize. In a flash he knew what he had done wrong. He should have stood guard at the opening of the rift to block them from getting back in with the pendant.

  Only he knew he wasn't here for the pendant.

  Hennet thought he heard wings close by, and he whirled again. He gulped with glee as the tip of his spear impaled a mephit, which let out a cry of pain and crashed to the ground. Tiny ice crystals swirled riotously in its wake, forming whorls and kaleidoscopic swirls above the corpse.

  "You killed one of them!" Sonja confirmed a gleeful voice from the frozen fog, and Hennet again was on the move, desperate to find the source of her calls. But he felt the sluggishness closing in on him. He heard his joints crack as he moved, as if he was freezing from the inside out.

  There was no warmth in him now, no warmth anywhere in existence. His exposed skin turned white, and his hair stood up, dagger-stiff. Mentally he conjured up images of roaring, crackling fires, hot food and drink, and Sonja's welcome touch. He even wished he was back under the city in the oven room. He almost died there, but the torment of having his blood turned to steam seemed far better than freezing to ice. He yelped in horror as he realized he could no longer feel his hands. He could see them, but otherwise he had no way of being certain they existed. His legs were not far behind.

  Hennet's cloak was partly frozen, and bits of it crackled and snapped off as he walked. He'd sometimes wondered what freezing to death would be like. Some said that it was the least painful of deaths, a gradual, gentle loss of feeling, like a slow drift into sleep. He knew now that was lie. He would gladly exchange this death for any other. He blinked, and frost clung to his eyelashes. When he breathed heavily, his breath froze in midair. The tiny crystals joined the swirl of others that danced round his head. White oblivion threatened to envelop him forever.