Ice Burns

by Charity Ayres

  Night shook his head like a wet dog and glared down at her. Chandra raised both hands in front of her as Night rolled liquid flame over her. It parted around her and oozed to the floor, smoking and glowing hot. She rotated her right shoulder and pushed out again with her left hand, sending an icy flow toward the beast, concentrating on stopping him. Instead of a stream of cold, the ice formed into shards like glass, but Night swiped the air in front of him and the shards tinkled and shattered to the hard, cavern floor.

  This time, Night struck out with his long, spiked tail. Chandra tried to jump but was too slow and landed on the ground, hard. She raised both hands again, expecting another lava flow from Night’s mouth but instead heard him laughing at her. She felt something hum across her skin, and a glow lifted from her as though her spirit had risen to become tangible before her body. The blood in her veins sang an odd, lilting song, and the air around her charged. It solidified, forming a protective shield of her power. Her need had called it from within her, and her magic had answered with tempered magical skill.

  “I’m much disappointed in you,” the serpentine voice hissed yet rumbled with the sound of tumbling rock. “I expected more. The lady had hopes for you, as did so many of our kind.”

  Chandra huffed. “I would never help your lady. I would never help anyone that would destroy humankind.”

  “They are not your race, wild one,” Night said, pacing around her, scratching a claw at her magical shield now and then. “You are of us. You are our kind.”

  Chandra started, and the shield her magic had created, faltered for a moment. She saw Night’s claw coming again and strengthened it, sweat pouring down her arms as she continued to lie on the floor of the cavern. “Your tricks won't work. Lies do not become you.”

  “I don’t lie. I am not of humankind and see no need for deceit.”

  Chandra pushed herself to her knees and looked over at the dragon. “How is that possible? I'm human.”

  “No, you are a half-breed child. Sired by a human and your dame was of the shadows. You were created to be a bridge for the rest of us to cross to reclaim the world and rule it as our own.”

  Chandra was speechless. Some part of her uncoiled and shifted within her. The dark rage inside her rose to the surface and rolled across her skin like a warm breeze. As the words sunk in, the darkness inside her called out, and she knew the dragon’s words were true. She had known, deep down, that part of her magic was different, and the internal voice in her couldn’t understand its wildness enough to reconcile it entirely. The only time her fire came was in dark moments of death, fury and torture. Chandra shook her head and denied the ink that stretched inside of her, pushing it down to slumber.

  “It doesn’t matter. I am not like you.”

  Chandra lifted her chin and looked into Night's glowing amber eyes. The beast looked down at her and smiled in a way that, even without all the sharp teeth, would have been more menace than joy.

  “Wild one, you are so amusing! Will you not change your mind about this pointless endeavor? Will you not step back into the shadows where you belong?” Night hissed, his voice warm with laughter.

  “I am not like you!” she panted.

  “You are, or you wouldn’t be able to call fire in such a pure form.” Night exhaled on her shield, and the steam in his breath caused the magic to flicker like a sparkling frost. He blinked when a flash of the scattered light glittered across his face. Chandra narrowed her eyes as she looked at him and called her fire a bit stronger to her shield and the cavern glowed.

  Night shrunk back from her, pulling his body back and away from her as if to touch her would burn him. She stood and moved toward Night as he continued to shrink back.

  “Shadow creatures do not like pure light; I take it?” Chandra surmised. Night hissed at her and drew back farther before opening his mouth to unleash a torrent of fiery rain at her. Rock-sized balls of wet fire flew at her and landed on her barrier before oozing down the sides and sizzling on the ground. When Night paused to take a breath, Chandra raised her icy hand and dropped her barrier. She imagined the glacial stream shooting from her fingers and pointed at the gaping, jagged maw before her. The stream struck him on snout first, spraying into his nostrils. Night choked and then gasped as the ice flowed into his mouth. He tried to shut his mouth, but the magic flow was like a fist forced into his maw, holding it open and preventing him from stopping it.

  Chandra stopped and raised the barrier again, but this time focused it out like a wall instead of a bubble around her, calling the fire and weaving the ice into a web that shone and glittered, shooting rays of light all around the cavern.

  Night made a sound that was half-howl and something so high-pitched it caused Chandra’s hair to stand on end before he disappeared somewhere into the recesses of the cavern. Chandra considered pursuit but didn’t see how that would end in her favor. As it was, Night had been bested by her magic, and she doubted she could do much better. Chandra raised her fiery-lit hand above her like a torch and walked back through the tunnels to find the entrance.

  When Chandra exited the cave, Frostwhite called to her from overhead. The moon had finished its journey across the sky, and the opposite horizon was growing pink. Chandra exhaled and dropped her hand to her side, the fire extinguishing as it fell. Her frost hand still glowed white, and she looked at it for a moment, wondering why it hadn’t returned to pink flesh. As she stood there, she heard the tinkle of the water as it dripped off the side of the cave opening. One drop landed on her hand and instantly froze into a tear-shaped piece of ice.

  Chandra took a deep breath and walked over to the jagged stone face. She reached out her left hand and placed it against the rough, wet rock. Nothing happened. Chandra stood there and stared before laughing at her delusions but was cut short by a crackling noise on the stone. Ice spread out across the rock like tiny rivers forged through the water and found the frozen mass under it, joining and building on that foundation. The crackling rumble became loud. Chandra pulled her hand away and stepped across the shaky ground away from the opening.

  She heeded the basic human instinct of running from danger and ended up sliding a good distance down the slippery path, gaining a few more bruises from the rocks and roots that had helped her climb earlier. As she skidded to a stop on her side, she heard a massive roar as the ice tore apart the rocks and sent them tumbling across the cave entrance. The breaking landslide of stone built a quick barrier across the entrance as though a hand had reached down and swept the stones in place. A frozen wave rose up from the ground and lent a smoothness to the rough barrier of rock. It formed a new edge, blending the stone back into the side of the mountain as though the opening had never been.

  Chandra huffed where she laid, her side soaked from the ice and snow on the ground and aching from the various natural decelerators. Frostwhite fluttered down to land beside her, hopping over to tug at her hair and click at her. She raised her hand and stroked his feathers with a sigh.

  “I don’t know how, but I survived,” Chandra turned to find him looking warmly down at her. “I hope that’s the end of this adventure because I swear if Alphonse tries to send me off to slay some other beast with no instructions on what to do, I’m going to turn him into a smoking pile of ash.”

  Frostwhite clicked at her and then launched himself into the air. She stood up and watched him circle overhead. She turned toward the castle, the rising sun slightly warming to her bruised backside as she walked.

  40

  “Well, you should have frozen him, of course,” Alphonse was saying, and Chandra fought to keep her hand from glowing. “I told you that you had to use the Winterbourne magic to stop him, but I suppose you did well enough.”

  Chandra rolled her eyes and attempted to swallow the growl. Her anger stirred and her right palm itched. She scratched at it through the glove she had found and ignored Matta’s stare.

  “What was it he said about your mother? A creature like him? Well, he’s obviously mist
aken on that! Winterbourne through and through, I tell you! The queen was a distant cousin to the king, so no other way around it!” Alphonse was gesturing as he walked around the room. Chandra's lip curled at the thought of married cousins. She had always felt there was something wrong with the whole “clean bloodlines” idea. She almost preferred to think she was part creature instead of overly related to her parents.

  “And now to the throne!” Alphonse threw his hands in the air and smiled at Chandra. She looked back at him with disgust and disbelief.

  “You can't possibly mean to put me on the throne,” Chandra asked slowly. Alphonse looked at her blankly.

  “If we're to prevent any further issue, we must place you on the throne so your magic can connect to the kingdom and stop the creatures from emerging,” he said this slowly as though she had taken a blow to the head during her quest.

  “No,” she told him. He gaped at her with that flapping jaw look again Chandra was starting to enjoy.

  “You must! If you don’t...”

  “End of the world, humankind will be in danger, and all that,” Chandra interrupted. “Am I right?”

  “Yes!”

  “I’m not taking the throne,” she explained to him again, hoping for more silent jaw flapping. She was disappointed when he instead turned red and stomped out of the room.

  “Chandra, you must at least try,” Matta wanted to convince her without pressure. “I know you don’t believe any of this, despite what you accomplished. It isn’t a question of what you think, however, but the greater good.”

  “What has that ever gotten me but blood on my hands and running for my life?” Chandra asked, her voice rough with exhaustion.

  “Nothing,” Matta conceded, which effectively deflated Chandra’s arguments. “But if you do have this magic flowing through your veins, you need to take the throne to allow it to help the people.”

  Chandra sighed, hating to lose a fight that hadn’t had a chance to begin. “I make no promises that I won't accidentally set something on fire or freeze the throne.”

  Matta smiled. “Of course not.”

  “And I had better get a good meal afterward,” she muttered. Matta smiled wider.

  “If need be, I will cook it myself!” Matta told her, and Chandra made a face when she remembered Matta's favorite meal of stewed roots. Perhaps it would be her last day alive anyway.

  Alphonse positively skipped the entire way to the throne room. It was a just a tiny chamber in the center of the castle that held an ancient stone chair and little else. The room’s walls were adorned with writing Chandra could not read, and there were some symbols drawn on the ceiling. The throne was little more than a natural rock formation that happened to resemble a chair. There was no articulate carvings or decorative accents; it was only natural stone with imperfections and flecks of other rock mixed in its surface.

  “What do I need to do?” Chandra asked, her mouth dry and her stomach threatening to empty its sparse contents of water onto the floor.

  “Just sit,” Alphonse said.

  “Is that a real 'just sit' or is that 'just sit' like 'go up the mountain and stop this thing with your magic' sit?” Chandra asked. Alphonse blinked at her a few times with a blank expression, and Chandra sighed. She stepped forward, touched the stone and sat down.

  The chair was icy cold and downright uncomfortable. Chandra wondered how anyone could sit in it without cushions and a blanket or two. She sat and drummed her fingers on the armrests, waiting. Nothing happened.

  “Well?” Alphonse asked.

  “Well, what? I’m sitting,” Chandra told him, picturing him turning into a pillar of ash and feeling only slightly guilty for the image. Alphonse watched her for a few moments and then exhaled.

  “You must be doing something incorrectly,” he concluded, and Chandra fought the urge to throw something at him, magical or mundane, whatever she could reach first.

  “You told me to sit. I’m sitting!” Chandra exclaimed. Suddenly the doors opened, and a few guards stepped in. When they saw Chandra, their eyes almost came out of their skulls.

  “What's this? Who are you?” one of the guards yelled, his face went bright red and apoplectic. Alphonse stepped forward.

  “All's well; I brought her here.” Alphonse waved his arms in front of the men.

  “And what does that matter? You’re a deranged old coot!” the guard shouted. Chandra couldn’t help but nod at that assessment. “Get them out of here and question the girl as to why she thinks she can be on the ancient throne.”

  “Whoa! I was told to come and sit in the chair, and I did. That’s it,” Chandra tried to tell them, her hands raised, palms out. She was thankful the shadows kept the man from seeing her eyes clearly.

  “Take ‘em to the Marshall and see what he wants to do with them.” The ruddy, round guard still looked on the verge of a stroke and his eyes were not quite back in their correct place. The three of them were marched off to an office near where Alphonse had filched the armor and boots for Chandra.

  “Found ‘em in the throne room,” a young guard said to a grizzled older man in a stiff blue uniform with a salt and pepper beard and sharp blue eyes.

  “Very well, Cooper,” the man said. “Take them in to wait.”

  “Aye, sir!” Cooper said with a salute and marched them into a tiny room. They had been in the chamber for a short time before the gray-haired guard, whom Chandra assumed was the Marshall, entered.

  “Smythson says the girl was on the throne at your behest, seer?” the man asked after entering the room with Smythson. Chandra noticed the way the man accented the word “seer” as though it were something vile instead of a title.

  Alphonse nodded. “She’s the princess,” he told them, his eyes steady on the sharp gaze of the Master at Arms.

  The Master at Arms frowned. “You know the princess. She ran away two fortnights ago, quickly followed by the queen.”

  “She was not the real princess. This girl is,” Alphonse said, shaking his head.

  The Marshall looked at Chandra, who didn’t look up but fought the urge to shrug. His gaze took her in for a moment before turning back to look at the old seer. “Okay, for argument’s sake, you decided to sneak this princess to the throne?”

  “To protect the kingdom, yes!” Alphonse looked relieved. He apparently misunderstood the Marshall’s barely veiled sarcasm as agreement. Matta, Chandra noted, was staying wisely silent.

  “And did it work? Did the throne activate?” The man's tone implied that he didn't need the answer. Alphonse sighed and deflated.

  “No,” he told them mournfully. Chandra started to see Alphonse was very much like his brother in the pouting child department, but instead of anger, this brother was naive.

  “In the future, would you mind bringing any heirs to the throne you come across to me instead of sneaking them into the throne room.” The Marshall's gray eyebrows reached for his hair.

  Alphonse nodded slowly, and the Marshall gave a sharp nod.

  “Escort them back to the seer’s study, Smythson. I don’t think they’ll be any further trouble.” The Marshall eyed the trio, and Chandra shook her head, her eyes down and with what she hoped was a contrite expression on her face. The stern man turned to leave the room but hadn’t made it to the door when it burst open, and Cooper stepped in.

  “We’re saved! A son of Manus survived the cleansing and is on his way to reclaim the throne!” Cooper was all but dancing with joy. The Marshall's eyes widened just slightly but otherwise showed no real response to the news.

  “Bring him to me when they enter the castle.”

  Cooper nodded so hard it looked as though his head might separate from his neck. Smythson’s flush did not change, and he gestured at them to exit. He escorted them to the seer’s office where Chandra thought he might try to lock them in at the way he paused in the doorway. Instead, he shook his head and grunted before he closed the door.

  “I don’t understand,” Alphonse muttered, and
Matta walked to a window to look out. Alphonse raised his eyes to Chandra. “You are the princess, but the throne did not recognize you. Why?”

  “Because I’m not...” Chandra began but was interrupted by Matta.

  “What's wrong with your right hand, Chandra?” the Dryad asked her without turning from the window.

  Chandra had been itching it and stopped. She looked at the white hair that flowed down her friend’s back and said nothing. She wasn’t sure what she could say. Matta turned and walked back to them.

  “May I see your hand?” Matta held out both hands to her. Chandra knew it wasn’t a command and fought the urge say no. She was embarrassed by the skin there that had burned and not restored like the rest of her had. She peeled away the glove and held out her hand. Matta rested Chandra's hand in her two palms but was careful not to touch the young woman's pitch-black palm. The skin and scales had begun to climb her forearm.

  “Dear Ancients, save us!” Alphonse said as he leaned in to look. He reached out a hand to touch her palm, and Matta slapped it away. Alphonse looked at her and flushed.

  “Yes, yes, mustn’t touch!” Alphonse chuckled, and Chandra frowned. There were times when he seemed more mad than sane

  “When did this happen?” Matta asked, and Chandra blushed.

  “Sometime after I was abducted, tortured, and almost had my magic drained before I went back and burned them all to bits including the building they were in before growing new skin, hair and having glowing eyes,” Chandra said in a rush.

  Matta looked toward the window never having let go of Chandra's hand, though it was less pink skin than blackened flesh. When she looked back, her eyes glittered dangerously.