Sworn To Conflict: Courtlight #3

by Edun, Terah

  “A ledge?” shouted another voice.

  “Get us out of here.” That high-pitched voice belonged to Serena.

  “How much further down is the bottom?” came a call from farther up.

  “Can you see?” said a frost giant’s deep voice.

  “Silence,” said the general in a roar.

  In a more normal tone, he continued, “Prince Heir Sebastian, are you with us?”

  “I am,” said voice from her left. She started breathing again. She hadn’t even known she’d stopped.

  “Ciardis? Warlord Inga?”

  “Here,” confirmed Ciardis, shaken.

  “I am. As are all of my people,” said Inga. Her voice sounded disgusted. Ciardis wasn’t sure if it was because of the predicament they found themselves in or because they had all been caught unawares.

  “Roll call,” ordered the general. Every soldier was present, including a lone female whose voice Ciardis recognized as Vana’s as she sounded off a number.

  Then light began to spread throughout the chasm. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere until the darkness was pushed back and Ciardis could see that they were in a cavern. The walls were made of ice—sheets of it hundreds of meters thick. The light bounced off of the reflective walls of ice as she looked up in wonder. Slowly she stood, stiff with apprehension. The light not only revealed that they all stood in an ice cavern but that each person stood on an individual pedestal. Some pedestals were higher than others, like stepping stones in a river, but all of them were made of pillars of solid ice. Sebastian stood on a pillar to her far left and General Barnaren stood on the pillar closest to her, which allowed him to look down on her from six feet above.

  She breathed out slowly, watching her breath frost in the cold air, and slowly took a step forward toward the edge of her pedestal. She could see now that its diameter was twice her size, maybe ten feet total. Enough room for her to maneuver but not nearly enough that she felt safe. Falling off the edge wasn’t an option. She took one fearful look and scrambled back. Fifty to forty feet below them lay the crushed forms of all of their horses. Each one a distinct mass of blood and crumbled body fallen far apart from the other.

  It was a curious thing, their fall. They stood on pedestals of ice that were cold but not slick enough for its inhabitants to slip off. Even more curious was their appearance on said pedestal, distanced from their fallen mounts with each individual alone on their own column of ice.

  It was clear they were stuck, and as she turned around to see her companions she saw that they knew it, too.

  Minutes passed as they all waited in silence.

  Finally a soldier called, “Sir?”

  “Yes,” answered Barnaren.

  “I believe I have an idea, sir.”

  “Let’s hear it, then,” said Warlord Inga with a sneer in her tone. She lay reclined on her pedestal, her face in her hand and a dark mood on her face. She was still pissed about being surprised. Her pedestal was also quite a bit bigger than all the others. They ranged in size from barely two feet wide to a thick column upon which frost warriors could stand two abreast.

  The man didn’t comment.

  “State your idea, soldier.” That was General Barnaren.

  “I have rope, sir,” said the soldier.

  “Enough to get down?” Prince Sebastian queried.

  “Yes, I’ve done a measure of my column. I’m only about twenty feet off the ground.” The column height differences were larger than Ciardis had previously thought. But if he could get to the ground from his, then they had hope. Hope of not starving to death on the top of these massive ice columns.

  “And how did you plan on anchoring this rope?” said Warlord Inga. Her tone was dry.

  Ciardis saw her point. All of the ice columns had smooth, sharp edges. The tops were sheared off perfectly with no raised bumps or stalactites to clip a rope on and climb down to the base.

  The same soldier answered with a sharp tone, “My men will do it. I can loop the rope, knot it, and throw it to them.”

  A lingering snort was the only answer that the warlord deigned to give.

  Ciardis thought it wasn’t a bad idea. If he could reach his fellow soldiers.

  Vana spoke up. “That would normally work, but...”

  “But what?” General Barnaren demanded she paused.

  Vana reluctantly continued, “The pillars are guarded.”

  At that the major replied, “Guarded by what?”

  Ciardis imagined Vana shrugging. She couldn’t see her, but it would be a typical Vana response.

  “There’s magic in the air,” Vana told him. “Enough to fry anyone who tried to override it.”

  “How do you know this?” said the general.

  “Call it a hunch,” was the cool response.

  Ciardis dipped into her mage sight; she had to see this. When she turned her eyes to take in the cavern, she saw that the sunlight itself was magical. It lit up the cavern in a way she had only seen once before: the myriad of rainbow lights that had lit the Northern Mountains when she’d first arrived. Colors upon colors made up the light in a never-ending and changing pattern. It was too beautiful to stare directly at for long, but before she closed her mage sight she saw something curious. The same thing that Vana had warned of—the protection spells in the air. Each pedestal and column was surrounded by a tunnel of swirling, multi-colored light.

  “I think she’s right,” Ciardis ventured.

  Suddenly a metal bracer sailed through the air to hit the area just above the valet’s head. She hadn’t seen who had thrown it. It hit an invisible barrier just outside the column, where Ciardis knew the swirl of rainbow lights surrounded the column, and burst into flames in midair.

  “Looks like she was right.” The Major didn’t sound happy about it, either.

  “Damn,” said another man. That summed up the opinions of all those present.

  Chapter 12

  The cavern began to rumble. The walls shook and the columns swayed. Everyone dropped first to their knees and some moved to lie flat on their stomachs. Anything to stay on top of their shaking columns. Inga was lucky she hadn’t rolled off the edge, as close to it as she was.

  A sound like a thousand rocks rumbling together echoed in the distance. It came closer and closer, like an avalanche bearing down on them.

  “If anyone has any bright ideas,” yelled Vana, “now is the time to speak.”

  Sebastian swore. Ciardis clutched her shaking pedestal and prayed. Kane stood up on his pedestal and unsheathed his sword. At least she thought he had. The movement was too erratic for her to get a direct look.

  And then it stopped. The sounds. The shaking. The noise.

  A few sighs of relief echoed around and then the wall in front of them began to move. A line appeared in the center of the ice, and like a doorway the two edges came apart. The ice was frosted but translucent. Put that together with an otherworldly glow and mist pouring from the opening in the walls, and she could barely make out the forms that moved beyond the opening in the center of the wall. As they came closer, she could see that behind the slowly opening doorway were shadows cloaked in frost and ice. She could make out nothing but moving ice with two bright red eyes placed on top of a rough triangle that served as a head. The three forms came forward and Ciardis realized that their legs were a mash-up of gravel, ice, and rock. It was those legs that were making the sounds of the avalanche.

  The beings were as tall as the pedestals of medium height, which meant they were right at Ciardis’s eye level. She shrank back. Fortunately the shaking of the pedestals had stopped. The creatures—their movements the cause of the shaking—were coming ever closer. Like true lumbering giants, the Old Ones moved forward into the cavern of their own making.

  Before any of her waiting party could speak, the voices of Old Ones came forth. Not out of any mouth or orifice that Ciardis could see on the bodies that stood before her, though. No, these crags of moving ice were silent except for th
eir small, red eyes that continuously moved. It was the walls of the cavern surrounding them that spoke with their voices. It was disconcerting, to the say the least. As if the very mountains in the distance were speaking to them.

  They spoke still, and Ciardis listened.

  “The North Has Come,” said one voice.

  “To Us” said another voice slightly softer in its existence.

  “We Hear Its Call. We Hear Its Plea,” said the third.

  A pause.

  General Barnaren bellowed into the icy cold winds of the cavern, his voice echoing weirdly, “The Old Ones have allied with Algardis for generations. Why do you turn from us now?”

  “We Hear Its Call. We Hear The Plea,” all three voices chanted.

  Ciardis felt her shoulders slump in disappointment. Well, that hadn’t gotten them anywhere.

  General Barnaren tried again. The same answer was spoken.

  And then Prince Sebastian stepped forward on his pedestal. The red, beady eyes of the three ice crags turned toward him with disturbing synchronization.

  “What call? What plea?” he said with a calm exterior. His breath frosted in the air before him. As Ciardis watched him, she was aware that she and her party were legitimately shivering. The air around them was too cold. All but the frost giants were perilously close to a side of death that she didn’t want to see.

  The three crags didn’t answer him. They continued to stare, as if waiting.

  Prince Sebastian turned uncertainly to General Barnaren, but in his movement his body angled toward Ciardis, who stood on the same level as him and just below General Barnaren’s pedestal. Ciardis didn’t have any idea why, but the crags had taken offense, or perhaps they finally saw what needed to be done.

  Their voices echoed in union, “The Plea Must Be Heard.”

  The cavern shook and all the pedestals trembled. But Prince Heir Sebastian’s pedestal did more than that. It swayed and a crack formed. The crack became a dark hole. Almost like a pestilence in the side of his column. Ciardis could see it clearly. Before she could shout to warn him, the crack filled in with ice. Black ice. That ice shot out of the side of the column and arced over the empty air to pierce Ciardis’s own column with a loud crack. She stumbled, and she knew she had one moment to make a decision. Run across the ice bridge or wait.

  It turned out it wasn’t her decision to make.

  As his guards shouted in frustration all around them, the column underneath Prince Heir Sebastian’s feet began to crumble. He had no choice. He jumped on the bridge and ran as the crystals of black ice that made up the connecting patch crumbled underneath every new tread of his feet. As he reached Ciardis’s column she threw herself to the edge, forgetting her anger in the moment’s desperation to latch on to his hand. He fell beside her in a heap, and for a moment the only thing she heard was the prince breathing harshly beside her.

  She closed her eyes in relief as they lay side-by-side on the ground. Thanking the gods for answering their prayers. And then she raised herself up on her hands and knees, careful to keep a grip on the slippery surface of the ice pedestal. As she stood up, so did he. The pedestal was so small that they couldn’t help but first bump into each other and then to grip hands for steadier purchase. In hindsight, she supposed that was the point.

  As soon as their flesh touched, Prince Heir Sebastian’s magic rose. His connection to the Algardis Empire was always present, like a memory in the back of his mind. But in the face of the natural and overwhelming power of the Old Ones it had been recessed, pushed back. Ciardis’s power flowed through their physical connection instantly. He didn’t have to ask, she didn’t have to push. It was if the two snapped together and had never been torn apart. A benefit of their bond, alongside her ability to read his emotions and their ability to exchange thoughts.

  The power of the Earth answered Prince Heir Sebastian’s unspoken call.

  And then things got interesting.

  As his guards called out to the Prince Heir, their voices dimmed to a persistent buzz in Ciardis’s mind. Their connection had strengthened, and it was as if their awareness had shifted. She was aware of him, his touch, his feelings, and his mind in ways she’d never been before. She couldn’t tell if was the stress of the situation or the meld of Sebastian’s natural magic with the primal force of the Old Ones’ powers, but it was as if her consciousness had become one with his. They became one person in two bodies. She could tell Sebastian felt the same. She felt the weight of his armor on his body, the strength of his stance as his boots firmly sought purchase on the slippery ice, the sharpness of the gaze that he kept on the Old Ones even while their magic went haywire, and the subtle hint of warning he was sending her through their mind link.

  Their breath frosted in the cold air. Synchronized.

  And then she realized when his hand tightened on hers involuntarily that she wasn’t feeling everything he was. Even in the midst of the natural force of the Old Ones he was holding back. And they knew it. She felt a shift in the pressure of the cavern. A tightening of the cold in the air, like a snap of frost in the darkness of winter. The Old Ones didn’t say anything. They didn’t have to. Their anger was present in the air. The wintry temperature, the shattering of columns, and the push of power that was threatening to overwhelm them. With a bitter taste in her mouth she knew that this was them being tolerant. That tolerance wouldn’t last.

  She was scared. She was frightened. But she knew he couldn’t handle the amount of power that he was holding back alone. Because it wasn’t just his. It was a gift from the Old Ones, and it was meant to be hers, as well. Ciardis knew he was trying to protect her from the onslaught of the power. But she also knew that if she took it on, she wouldn’t be alone. No matter what. They would share the burden together.

  Ciardis turned her attention from the beings in front of her and the individuals around them vying for her attention and focused her entire being on Prince Heir Sebastian. Just before she turned away she saw a bright snap of power in the distance. A pedestal was glowing bright with a mage core that surpassed her own. Surpassed those around her. It felt familiar, as if she should know it, remember its presence. She worried for a moment that it meant another attack. But she knew, with a dark hint of satisfaction, that the orb, no matter its power, couldn’t surpass the powers that she and Sebastian could draw together.

  She thought the bright snap of power was another manifestation of the Old Ones. She was wrong.

  Ciardis resolutely stepped forward and turned around so that she stood face-to-face with Prince Sebastian. She was about a foot shorter than he, so it was more face-to-throat, but Ciardis didn’t let a little thing like height stop her. She reached up with her free hand and tilted Sebastian’s chin down until his eyes met hers. They were hard like emeralds. And then she placed her free hand into Sebastian’s and squeezed with reassurance. She tried to smile, but even she couldn’t put a happy face on a situation like this.

  Let it go, she entreated him, mind-to-mind.

  Sebastian’s lips thinned and he didn’t respond.

  We have to do this together, she reasoned. It’s a gift from the Old Ones and it’s clear what they want.

  He flicked his eyes back down to hers. And what about what I want?

  She raised an eyebrow in question.

  To guarantee the safety of my mind. To speak to them on my own. To solve this on my own.

  You don’t think I have the skills to help you? She sought to pull back. Her hands barely slipped from his before he recaptured them in a tight grip. She felt an odd sense of fondness flow through their bond. As if he was amused at the very thought that she wasn’t worthy of the two of them together.

  That is not what I meant, he said, his eyes darkening with emotion. What if what I want is to protect you, not rely on you?

  Maybe reliance is just what we need, she countered.

  Sebastian was about to retort when Ciardis sighed in frustration. This was getting them nowhere, and she knew, regardless o
f whether or not Sebastian would acknowledge it, that the Old Ones were growing impatient. She felt the barrier in his mind. The tense struggle he was fighting with his own powers to keep the cresting wave of power from pushing through him and consuming her. He was almost losing. He just needed something to distract him so that the power could overwhelm him and come through to her as it wanted.

  She didn’t have a ton of options, so Ciardis did what had tended to work on the baker’s son.

  She kissed the Prince Heir.

  Reaching up on the tips of her toes, she pressed her lips to his. And for the first time in her life, a kiss meant something to her. More than a way to secure a marriage, more than a way to reassure a boy that her fondness lay only with him. It was a sense of right that she hadn’t thought was possible. She felt the warmth of his lips on hers. The surprise that flowed through his mind and the abrupt switch to a desire that pleased her in more ways than one.

  The kiss was chaste, but the feelings and the emotions that exploded between the two of them made Ciardis feel like it could be so much more. Before they could explore that feeling, she felt the wave of power riding Sebastian’s crash through his mind as the barrier between them broke down. It was like riding through a storm with nothing to hold onto but the one thing in front of you and so Ciardis did. She released Sebastian’s hands and threw her arms about his waist. He gripped her body just as hard as their powers responded to something they’d never felt. A cresting rise in the land and in her own gifts.

  When the wave of power subsided it did so with a rush. Their powers peaked and then thrush out from their bodies in every direction as a ring of power visible to the naked eye. When she could feel her own body again everything came back in a rush. Minutes had passed. They were breathing hard. Her face pressed to his chest and his face buried in the mass of dark chestnut curls atop of her head. She felt like crying, she felt so alive. Alive with energy, alive with feelings. And then a throat cleared in the silence of the cavern.

  Face burning she stepped back from Prince Heir Sebastian and turned to face the rest of the cavern. She didn’t want to. She wanted to stay in the comfort of being clutched close to him. But she had to.