Fire and Frost (Seven Realms Book 1)

by Goodner, Allen

  When the party left the confines of the fortress proper, Alaric took his first waking impressions of Infierno full in the face. The overwhelming heat kicked the breath out of him. The scorched air seemed to dry him out immediately. Within steps he was more physically drained than he had ever been, even deep in the Border. The sky coruscated with waves of red and gold. The clouds seemed to increase the heat rather than provide relief from it.

  The fortress itself seemed to be a compound modeled on human castles. The building he’d just come from seemed to be the primary keep. It stood about four levels high, with crenellations along the top suggesting that defenders could exit onto the roof if necessary. Such windows as existed were obviously arrow loops. The building itself seemed strange however. Rather than being built of cut stone, in this case basalt, it seemed to have been extruded from the rock as a whole piece. Once again Alaric was impressed by the magic of his hosts.

  Within the yard were several buildings he recognized as analogues to buildings in the castle where he’d grown up. To one side was a building for crafting weapons. Igni didn’t work metal, but their stone weapons were every bit as deadly and required craftsmanship just as fine as any sword of the humans.

  There were no dogs in Infierno, but the Igni had tamed a lizard the humans had taken to calling Flame Drakes. Alaric saw what he presumed must be their equivalent of a kennel near the smithy. Outside, several of the drakes were lying in the heat, apparently quite comfortable.

  Other buildings had their analogues as well. To one side was a bakery or kitchen. A barracks ran near the first curtain wall. He even saw what he presumed was their chapel. The Igni did not worship God, but revered the Ancients as near-deities.

  Alaric noticed all this quickly, while his lungs screamed for air and his throat for water. He felt almost detached, and realized he would die quickly without some kind of assistance. Kahji noticed his distress and barked a command in his own language. One of the Igni loped over quickly and started chanting. As quickly as the heat had stolen his strength, Alaric felt it return. He was still uncomfortably warm and still felt as though he was trying to breathe in an oven, but he no longer felt like he was being baked alive.

  “My apologies,” Kahji began, “It is easy to forget that your people cannot survive our world unaided. We had taken steps to ensure your comfort inside; this was an oversight.”

  “No apology is necessary,” Alaric replied, “I don’t seem to be dead, and the problem has been rectified. I know we send emissaries to your people from time to time. I simply hadn’t considered that we must make such provisions for them ourselves.”

  With the immediate crisis over, Kahji began assembling the troop. Along with his war band, the Igni seemed to be sending additional support. At least two of the robed Firesmiths, the masters of the Igni’s magic, were going, and a second group of soldiers. Alaric wasn’t sure if this was simply to ensure his own safety, or if the Igni really believed there was that much danger. He wasn’t sure which he preferred.

  The renowned discipline of the Igni soldiers was quite evident in the next several minutes. Where a human group of similar size would probably take an hour or more to assemble and organize, Kahji had his men ready in perhaps half an hour. Once assembled, the group set out immediately. The portcullis was raised as they began their march, and the Igni settled quickly into an easy lope, using their arms and hands as much as their legs as the moved through the rough terrain.

  Alaric quickly found himself winded. While he knew that part of it was the pace the Igni were keeping and part of it was the heat, he also knew that weeks of convalescence had taken its toll on his conditioning. Within a mile, he found himself hoisted like a child on the back of one of the warriors. His cheeks burned with embarrassment, but he knew they couldn’t slow to a pace he could keep.

  Relieved of the necessity of keeping up with the fast moving troop, Alaric took the time to admire the scenery. If one looked only at the surface of the world, Infierno looked like little more than a blasted wasteland, like the remains of a forest after a great fire or after a volcano had erupted. On deeper inspection, however, the beauty of the world bloomed like a rose. Trees which looked burnt and twisted showed signs of life. Their leaves were made of living flames, crackling and waving in the hot breeze. Around pools of lava or burning sulfur, crystals rose in blues and greens like flowers. Clouds of gold and orange chased each other across the sky. Plains of a dry grass-like plant were punctuated by jutting spikes of a black rock.

  The day seemed to blur as it went on. He would ride for what he approximated as an hour then he would run until his legs started to give out. Then he would ride. Then he would run. He lost count of how many times they repeated the cycle. As the blazing white sun began to set, the warriors finally began to slow their pace. They walked for the last hour, and then began to set up camp.

  Just like the beginning of their march, setting camp was a quick and disciplined affair. Everyone knew his job and attended to it with utmost professionalism. Tents were erected in a miniature city. Fire pits were dug and cook fires started. As soon as his duties were complete, each warrior inspected his own gear. A handful of repairs were required and were quickly affected.

  Alaric expected the warriors to retire to their tents once they had eaten and the sun had set. He was quite surprised when the Firesmiths created a globe of bright white light over the camp. The warriors fell into ranks and immediately began to drill. At first their drills were simple regimented line drills. They marched and countermarched; they faced and dressed and all of those other things needed for formation marching.

  After formation, they began weapon training. This appeared to be sparing with live weapons. In groups of two to five, the warriors would fight. Though it was clear none meant each other any harm, they fought with a ferocity Alaric would have expected on the battlefield.

  “Perhaps you should join them,” Kahji quietly suggested. “You need to rebuild your strength and tone in your arms if you are to defend your people from the Frost Fiends.”

  “How can I defend my people from a threat I don’t know about?”

  “Train first. All the knowledge of them in the Five Realms will do you no good if your arms are weak and your mind tired.”

  A complaint died on Alaric’s lips as he understood the underlying message. Whatever decision the Chief had made, Kahji was choosing to tell him of the beasts. It would do him no good to press for information, and it would certainly be wise to see to his own conditioning.

  He followed the War Leader over to the warriors. Up close, they were even more ferocious. An Igni fought with his whole body. Even the ones who did not wear the clawed gauntlets used their natural claws as much as the clubs or spears they carried. Kicks factored into their fighting as much as any attack originating with the arms. While none of them bit during practice, Alaric had no doubt they were trained to use their fangs as well as their arms and legs.

  “Now you learn to fight as we do. You’ll find it’s a good workout.” Kahji could not keep the grin completely from his face.

  He began as a complete novice. First came punches, which were more like thrusts with his fingers. He quickly saw the advantage such fighting would give the Igni. Their natural claws were certainly sharp enough to break skin. When they added their clawed gauntlets, they were even more deadly.

  After learning the basic punches, Alaric moved onto the more frequently used swipes. Here, again, Igni physiology had been adapted into a ferocious weapon. Their long arms and mighty shoulders made such strikes deadly, and their training in such tactics made them quite fast. As he trained, he realized the fighting style was not so different from his own style with the sword. Thrusts came from the shoulders and back; swings added the hips and knees.

  That night, he trained until he collapsed. Then, spent, he was carried to his tent where he passed out before the concerned War Leader had even left the tent.

  When he woke the next day, he realized he was already being carr
ied by one of the warriors. He hadn’t merely slept through breakfast, but through breaking the camp and beginning their march. His arms and legs still throbbed; he realized he had overworked himself the night before.

  “You’re awake, brave one. Perhaps next time you can tell us before you collapse. It’s so undignified to have to lay you in bed like a cub.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Bah, you’ve slept for nearly ten hours. You’re fine. You’ll feel better once you’ve run for a while.”

  With that, Alaric was released from the care of the warrior carrying him and stumbled along into a run. That day, they again repeated the cycle. At first, he could only run for a few minutes. As the day wore on, he was able to run longer. When they broke for camp that night, he was on his own feet.

  This time he joined in the training almost immediately. He trained and fought until exhaustion nearly overtook him. Showing admirable prudence, he then retired to camp to rest. It was better to rest now and rebuild his strength safely.

  Returning to the camp proper, he set out to find the War Leader. It took him a few minutes, but he was successful before very long. Kahji was sitting on a cushion, reading a book in his own language. Alaric entered quietly and looked around. He was fairly certain the giant Igni knew he was there, and didn’t want to disturb him if he was doing something important.

  “It is just a book,” Kahji said softly as he closed it, “I see you’ve taken the course of wisdom this evening.”

  “Well, being chided like an errant child is not high on my list of priorities.”

  “And what is high on your list of priorities?”

  “Not that book. I’m much more interested in learning about those things that attacked my companions and me. What did you call them? Frost Fiends?”

  “You ask about things I can’t directly address. For reasons he believes to be sufficient, the Chief has directly forbidden us to talk about them. But let’s see what we can work out without my violating a direct order. You saw them. Why don’t you tell me what you saw, or what you think you saw?”

  “They’re big. They looked like Igni, but made of ice. I’m not sure, but it didn’t look like they use manufactured weapons or armor. At least, I didn’t notice any. They didn’t fight like Igni, though. They were more savage, for one thing. They had less control. They didn’t fight as a team. They fought like a group of individuals.”

  “Well, you’ve certainly got most of what you need already. They are much like us. As you noticed, they don’t use tactics to any real degree. They simply attack, and they keep attacking until they’ve been defeated or until they’ve destroyed whatever is in their path. I’ve never seen one use weapon or wear armor. They seem to have no need.”

  “What are they? What do they want?”

  “Hmmm… let me tell you a story. It’s one we tell our cubs. Back at the Dawn of our Days, before the Days of Men, we Igni fought as savages; each one sought only his own glory. In those days, we were allies with the other races, even the Ancients who still lived with us. We were allied against the armies of Discord, monsters you cannot imagine. Now, it is said that at the heart of the Ocean of Flame stands an island, and on that island is a fortress, and in that fortress The Heart of Living Flame. It is said that each Igni reflects this Heart of Living Flame into the world. In the days of the war, the Ancients grew desperate. Their numbers were not large even back to our oldest records. Every year took its toll. In desperation, they struck out against Discord. Taking some of the power of the Heart of Flame, they crafted a weapon of unimaginable power. Even as they struck at Discord, Discord struck back. Part of the Heart was corrupted; it changed into ice so cold that it burned. The Igni who would be our first Chief of Chiefs acted quickly. He cut away the blemished piece of the Heart to save the whole. The corrupted piece, it is said, he wave around with chains of fire and dropped into the deepest part of the Ocean of Flame. This act saved Infierno, and the Igni, from a fate we dare not name. Yet some Igni were still affected. Their hearts, we say, reflected the corrupted piece of the Heart. Some were transformed into monsters; others went mad. As for the Chief himself, his encounter with the Heart of Living Flame changed him, too. He was not only the first Chief of Chiefs, he was also our first Firesmith. Some believe that all Firesmiths are descended from this Chief. Even to this day when an Igni warrior loses himself in battle lust, it is said that he is reflecting the Frozen Heart.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m sure you’re trying to tell me something, but I never really cared for fairy tales.”

  “It is not so much a fairy tale as history. I’ve said all I can. Think about what you have heard. Once you understand the story, you will better understand your foes.”

  CHAPTER 4

  As the weeks continued, Alaric came to realize how much he slowed the Igni in their march. When they could carry him, the Igni could cover ground at the rate a good horse could run. Unlike a horse, the Igni could keep up that pace for hours. When Alaric carried himself, however, they were limited to his own pace. As the trek wore on, that pace increased, as did his endurance. By the time they began to near the Border, Alaric could keep up his own run for nearly an hour. He had regained all the tone and conditioning he had lost during his convalescence, and more besides.

  While his strength was still no match for an Igni, he had also learned much of their fighting style, and understood the limitations of their body structure. In sparing with the warriors, he was able to win as often as he was defeated. While the great clubs the Igni used didn’t feel right in his hands, he found himself quite at home with the clawed gauntlets they used. His speed had increased as well. Both on the run and in fights, he found the physical demands of the march had honed his own abilities to levels he’d believed beyond him.

  This conditioning was going to be put to the test as they drew near the Border. They would be working on short sleep until they crossed over into Mediatus. With Frost Fiends cropping up on both sides of the Border, Kahji wanted to get Alaric back safely into his father’s hands as quickly as possible.

  “Sleep, brave one,” Kahji said to him on evening, nearly eight weeks after setting out. “We cross the Border on the morrow, and you’ll need to be able to keep up. Unfortunately, we couldn’t tell your family when you’d get here, since we didn’t know. I have sent some of my warriors ahead to let them know you’ll be crossing the Border tomorrow.”

  “My sincerest thanks, my friend. It will be good to get home.”

  The night passed quickly. With less than six hours’ sleep, the troops packed up and made ready to march. Before the blazing white sun had even spread its leading fingers into the air, the warriors had formed up and were marching toward the Border. Here, the heat finally began to lessen. Sulfur pools began to be replaced by boiling water. Trees with leaves of orange and gold began to be intermingled with the trees of living flame.

  A bare mile into their march, they entered the area of the Border known as the Gateway. The nebulous border between the two realms was made up of the most chaotic mixture of the two realms. Trees with leaves would burst into flame. Rivers of sulfur ended in pools of clear, if hot, water. So it shouldn’t have come as any surprise that Frost Fiends would make their presence known as well.

  The shift in temperature was sudden and swift. In one instant the heat was oppressive. In the next, the warriors saw their breath puffing in the frosty air. The Igni were already aware to look for the phenomenon, and Alaric remembered it from the ambush. With a roar, the Frost Fiends erupted from the ground, just as before. This time, Alaric was ready.

  With a collective roar, the Igni met their foes. Before the first of the fiends had fully emerged, the Igni were upon them. Despite the suddenness of the monsters’ arrival, the Igni formed their squads. This was Alaric’s first chance to see them operate up close. Only now did he understand the utility of their mixed weaponry. Each war band seemed to be made of four squads of six. Two in each squad had spears; two had those great clubs; and two had the clawed ga
untlets.

  As the ice beasts erupted from the ground, the Igni warriors met them in groups. Before one could fully rise, two spears met it. If the spears missed, or if they were occupied with one beast and another showed itself the clubs would swing into action. The claws were a last line of defense, used one on one to slow a fiend until a soldier with a club or spear could dispatch the beast.

  Kahji and his personal troops fell in around Alaric. One after another, Frost Fiends rose up at them. One after another, they fell. One rose directly in front of the massive War Leader. With an almost negligent swing of his great club, Kahji crushed its head, and the beast shattered. Another rose up in front of them; two spears met it in the chest. It exploded into fragments.

  The entire fight took less than two minutes. As quickly as it had come, the frosty chill in the air disappeared and the oppressive heat returned. Nearly three score of the monsters had literally burst forth from the ground. They had been dispatched without a single significant injury to the Igni force.

  “Come, we must hurry,” Kahji growled as soon as they had assessed the situation, “Frost Fiends should not be able to cross over in the Border. They certainly shouldn’t be able to cross over on your side of the Border.”

  The troop formed up quickly and set out at a run. Within minutes they had reached the Gateway. A few minutes more, and they had crossed over into Mediatus, the Middle Realm and home of Men.

  They emerged from the Gateway straight into another fight. Men and Frost Fiends were locked into battle. This fight was not going as poorly for the monsters. The sharp chill in the air was so strong that frost had begun to form on trees in the area. Pools which normally bubbled in a constant boil had stilled. All around was carnage. Bodies of men and horses were mixed with the shattered remains of Frost Fiends.