by J. K. Barber
Katya pushed all thoughts from her mind and focused on nothing but climbing the wall. It didn’t take long before her arms were screaming in protest, her muscles feeling like they were on fire. She stopped a moment on a decent sized foothold, meaning to give her arms a short rest from bearing her full weight, but she slipped on the ice. With a yelp she slid all the way down to where Mala was on the rope before she could get her hands around the ropes properly again. The sorceress’ rump was on Mala’s shoulders. The older woman’s muscles bulged as she struggled to keep them both supported. Katya planted her feet again and pulled off of the Master Swordswoman, who breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
“Are you alright?” Mala whispered.
“Yes, I’m sorry,” Katya softly replied.
“Don’t apologize, just get moving please,” Mala replied with a huff.
The sorceress opened her mouth to apologize again but shut her lips, realizing that is exactly what Mala asked her not to do. She had only reached her previous spot where she had slipped, when an orc body dropped past her, its face ruined with claw marks and its cloak fluttering in the wind as it fell past.
Mala cursed aloud. “Already? The hooks are being detected! Get a move on Katya, quickly child,” she called to the sorceress.
Katya ignored her tired arms and hauled herself up as rapidly as she could, driven by fear and adrenaline. As the sorceress arrived at the upper reaches of the wall, she could hear the familiar sound of steel clashing on steel. Sasha had reached the top and was already fighting. The ominous sound of an alarm bell that must have been thickly forged filled her with dread, as it bonged aloud in long mournful notes. She clambered over the top, barely deflecting a sword strike from an attacker with her staff as she deftly drew it from its back sling in one smooth motion. Two guards kept Sasha, with sword and shield in hand, more than busy as she strained against the two brutishly strong orcs. The guard Katya staved off was an older human with a jagged scar across his forehead. He grinned in a slimy way as he took in Katya’s slender form and slit-to-the-thigh robes. Katya wiped that grin off his face with a single word, as a focused bolt of lightning hit him dead center in the chest. He fell backwards, life fading from his eyes as he grasped at the small hole over his heart. With her staff to focus her magic, Katya was deadly accurate. The sorceress was not able to rest for a moment before three more orc guards rushed out of the open tower door, their crudely spiked maces raised high. She glanced to her red-headed sister, who had dispatched one of her attackers but was still occupied by the second. Seeing that Sasha had things in hand on her end, Katya took her staff in both hands, turning it horizontal and raising it slightly to the sky above.
“Molnija,” she called. A fork of lightning shot down from the clouds above and danced along the length of her staff before discharging in an arc before her into the oncoming orcs. Two orcs fell to the blast, but the third ducked and was already rising from his crouch, having lost very little of his momentum. He swung his weapon at her head, but Katya got her staff up just in time to deflect the blow. The orc was amazingly strong, however, and the weapon’s spike still caught her. The single uneven barb on the makeshift mace cut a gash in her arm that spanned from her wrist all the way up to her elbow. She screamed in pain, dropping her staff and falling to her side as she grasped at the deep wound. Sasha called out at the sight of her sister dropping, but the orc she fought gave no ground. The swordswoman could not get to her sister, try as she might to push her foe back. The blue-skinned orc above the raven-haired woman howled in triumph, his foul body odor overwhelming as close as he was, and grabbed Katya by the front of her robes, intending to fling her off the wall. As he turned towards the courtyard to gather momentum for the throw, a pair of swords protruded from his muscled chest. His ape-like face was twisted with pain and confusion as he fell to the stone walkway. Mala pulled her swords free of the brute and stood in a defensive position over Katya. Another two human guards appeared from the tower door. Mala spared the sorceress the briefest of glances to check on her condition. Satisfied that Katya was not mortally injured, she stepped forward to engage the newcomers.
Jared clamored up over the wall, a bestial look in his eyes as he stood and took in the scene. Warm red blood from the orc Mala had killed oozed along the stone’s mortar, pooling around the woodsman’s boots as it dripped over the side of the lower part of the crenellated wall. Pulling his sword free of its back sheath, he leapt up like a wolf from a crouch, the sight of blood igniting the primal side in him that Katya had witnessed in the ice orc camp. He bared his teeth as he rushed forward towards the orc fighting Sasha, his body at an angle and his sword positioned in a straight line with his right hand and his left outstretched. The sorceress wasn’t sure Jared even noticed her at all as he passed, so fixed was he on his target. In one fluid motion he severed the orc’s head from its body from behind with a forceful two handed strike. The creature never even saw him coming; its head tumbled to the stones very close to Katya’s prone form. Whether at the gruesome sight or from her own awful wound, the dark-haired sister retched. Her head swirled with specks of light.
Mala was hard-pressed as half a dozen more men and orcs poured out of the tower door. She had killed one man, her sword leaving a gaping line across his throat, but the remaining seven clearly outnumbered her. Sasha cursed loudly, causing Jared to glance where the red-head was looking and following her gaze to where the Master Swordswoman fought. He rushed over to aid Sasha’s mentor. The younger swordswoman followed more slowly, keeping her body between the enemies and her fallen sister. Mistress Mala was losing ground fast, and two foes were already past her defenses. The men did not attempt to strike Mala, Sasha, Katya, or Jared though; their attention was on the grappling hook and they quickly cut the line attached to it, throwing the tool over the wall. The screams of the second group of soldiers climbing behind the companions could be heard as they fell. Katya thought she heard the thunk thunk noises of objects digging into the ice, and she prayed it was the men using their ice axes to stay attached to the wall.
Jared assisted Mala and Sasha, fighting the remaining enemies. With deadly accuracy, Sasha and Jared immediately dispatched the two men who had cut the rope, one man with a slash to the throat and the other with a thrust to the midsection. The swordswoman and hunter reached Mala before she was overrun by the remaining five. The Master Swordswoman hadn’t killed any more of the human attackers, having had to fight fully on the defensive just to survive. Despite her dual swords being an impressive whirl of parrying blades, she had taken a glancing cut to her head as well as one to her thigh. Jared and Sasha were a considerable help as they reached her side, quickly turning the fight in their favor. Katya managed to rise to a sitting position, and silently wished for Chyla to be with her. Where are those two Nhyme, anyway? she thought looking up into the cloudy sky. There was no sight of her feathery friends. It appeared that she would have to heal herself, if only partially, to be any help to her present allies. The sorceress took a few deep breaths in an attempt to clear her head a bit, and then she focused on her cut. Her stomach heaved once more as she looked at the wound; it was horrible looking, showing the white of bone beneath her skin and bleeding profusely. She managed to calm her stomach with another deep breath and directed all of her thoughts onto the torn skin on either side of the wound. Inwardly, Katya then concentrated on her heart and followed the blood flow through her chest, down her arm, and stopped just before the cut. She pulled energies from the static-filled air about her and used it, gently molding it. When she felt that she was fully in control of the energy, she allowed it to flow through her flesh. Like Lady Amara had taught her, Katya imagined she sewed tiny stitches along the gash. Her blood began to clot and the wound visibly started to close. When she felt it was mostly healed, Katya stopped and studied her handiwork. The injury was still there, but it was closed at least, leaving an angry-looking mark like a week old wound. Any sharp strain on it could open the cut again.
So focused on h
er task, the sorceress was startled when Jared fell beside her. He had taken a mace blow to his skull. Luckily, it was a blunted mace and the blow had been partially deflected by Sasha’s shield. The red-headed sister dispatched the man with a thrust to his stomach, as Sasha’s battle rage flared even more at the sight of the blow Jared had taken. The woodsman shook his head, amazingly still conscious. When he opened his eyes, he stared blankly at Katya like he was surprised to see her sitting on the stone walkway. The woodsman gathered his wits quickly, taking note of his surroundings. Sasha and Mala had just dispatched the last orc, so Jared stood, lent Katya a hand, careful of her injured arm, and pulled her to her feet. The tower was finally empty, but the four heard fighting still going on further along the walls. Mala kept watch while Sasha checked on her sister. When Katya assured her she was okay, the swordswoman went to the edge of the wall to look down where the rope had been. Two soldiers were hanging from ice axes several feet down, their footing precarious and looking panicked. Sasha pulled the grappling hook from her belt and fixed the rope that was previously looped over her shoulder to its ring. Anchoring it on the wall’s edge she threw the rope down to the dangling man and woman. Unfortunately, the wind had picked up and the rope fluttered just out of their reach. Seeing the predicament, Katya whistled loudly as she looked up into the air. The sorceress prayed the Nhyme had heard her familiar call. It wasn’t long before two ravens, a white owl following them, soared down to the awaiting sorceress whose heart leapt happily at the sight of the descending birds. In a flutter of monochromatic wings the ravens settled on the top of a crenellation, while the owl landed on the walkway itself, shape-shifting into a naked Iluak. Katya quickly addressed the pair of ravens.
“Please, one of you fly down and get that rope to the men stuck on the wall,” she asked, with a quiver of exhaustion and despair in her voice.
The slightly larger of the two ravens squawked once and then launched off the wall, spiraling below to catch the rope in his beak and guide it into the amazed soldier’s outstretched hand. The soldier grasped the rope, making sure the female soldier below him caught hold as well, and began to climb the remaining stretch of wall.
Sasha and Jared continued to watch the soldiers’ progress, while Mala leaned against the tower wall attempting to catch her breath. The sound of fighting still filtered through the fog surrounding the castle fortress with a shout here and there. Katya turned to Chyla and Iluak.
“Where were you guys earlier?” she asked, curtly but without menace.
“Keeping the archers from firing upon you, Tupilek,” the therianthrope man replied, his voice calm. Katya looked further up the towers on either side of them that were connected by the wall on which they stood. There were no archers at all manning the upper balconies and the sorceress saw blood dribbling down the stone exterior of one of the parapets. It was then also that Katya noticed blood on Chyla’s talons. The Nhyme woman in her raven form was visibly shaking. The sorceress’ eyes widened at the clear evidence that her friend had finally drawn blood upon an enemy and scooped up Chyla as gently as she could, cradling her trembling body close under her neck. Iluak’s voice returned her attention to him.
“Your innersuit are as brave as they are fierce, they did not shame you, nor did I,” Iluak’s spoke clearly for all to hear. His gaze was intense on Katya. He was beautiful, standing there exposed yet regal with his loose black hair dancing about his tan shoulders. The sorceress blushed and averted her eyes.
“I am sorry, Iluak. I should not have doubted you or my little friends. You have our thanks for taking care of the archers,” Katya said, placing Chyla with care into her backpack. Niko, returning from his task, hopped in after the still shaky female. When the birds were settled and her pack closed, Katya stepped forward and took the therianthrope’s hands in hers. Iluak interlaced her fingers with his and smiled.
“How does our assault fare viewed from the sky above, Iluak?” Mala asked.
“The wall is taken, although a few of the enemy still emerge from below in spurts,” the therianthrope replied, looking Mala’s way. “Not many from my village appear to be harmed.” Mala nodded her thanks and seemed to breathe easier.
The two soldiers finally scrambled over the top of the wall, with Jared and Sasha lending them strong arms to pull them up and over the lip. The man, his name Matthew, and the woman, Isabella, gave their thanks and sat to get a brief respite. It was short-lived.
They all jumped, startled as the door to the closest tower slammed open. Mala, who still leaned up against the tower wall, almost took the soldier’s head off. She stopped her swing when she saw it was one of her men, a bulky man with a strong barreled chest. He was horrified, the Master Swordswoman’s blade just now falling from where it would have struck him in the throat.
“William, Martha,” Mala said, nodding as the man stepped out onto the walkway trailed by another of the Aeirsgan regiment, a woman of middle years with grey streaks throughout her black hair. Soon after, Johnson emerged from the tower, followed by three more men, Mala counting as they passed. The last of her regiment was bloodied but most had lived. “Where is David?” she asked, seeing that they were one man short.
“He fell to one of the Ice Queen’s men when we took the wall, Mistress,” Johnson reported, stepping over the corpse of an ice orc. The arriving troops looked about them at the piles of enemy bodies with appreciation, especially at the largest pile by the tower door. The combative skill with which Mistress Mala and her friends had fought was clearly displayed in the lethally accurate wounds of the dead. More than one soldier’s eyebrow was raised.
“Very well. We lost Jordan and Greer on the climb,” Mala spoke, standing tall and falling back into her leadership role. “Form up. We will descend into the castle proper.” The soldiers and Sasha fell into line reflexively as best they could around the dead, awaiting the next command. Jared slipped in next to Sasha. Iluak turned back to Katya, their hands still entwined.
“It is time I leave your side and return to my people,” the therianthrope stated. Katya’s fingers gripped his a little tighter and he smiled. He spoke loud enough to address all gathered. “May the winds bring you safely back to our village when you are finished here. Peace, friends.” He returned his attention to Katya alone. “Goodbye, Tupilek.” The title of shaman seemed softer coming from Iluak suddenly, almost as if it were an affectionate pet name for the sorceress.
“Goodbye, Iluak,” she replied squeezing his fingers once more before releasing him.
“Please give Chieftain Hridayesh our thanks, Iluak,” Mala said, crossing over to him and clasping forearms. “The therianthropes are an honorable people and King Morgan of Illyander will know of your aid upon our return home. We’ll see you back in Tunkaschila Mukwa to rest up before heading home. Thank you again for your help and your hospitality. Peace, brother.” Iluak nodded in response, took a step back, transformed, and took flight. He circled once as if to say goodbye one last time and then flew out of sight.
“Alright, listen up,” Mala stated loudly to her remaining group of eight soldiers. “We are about to descend into the heart of the Ice Queen’s Palace. Our journey has been long but here we are. Our ultimate goal is to wrest control of this keep from the Empress of Ice. I would expect the denizens that lurk in the shadows of the Empress’ home to be the worst kind of evil and to possess amazing strength and power. Do not underestimate them or think them simply as they appear. Keep your eyes open and your ears keen. We stick together. Since the glacial crystal doesn’t rise out from one of the towers like in Snowhaven, it is a safe guess that it is enclosed somewhere. This crystal is thought to be how the Ice Queen magically travels between here and Snowhaven. Up until now this theory was considered privileged information, but I feel that you are entitled to know what we’re up against and what we are trying to accomplish. We’ll head downwards first to see if we can find its base.”
Several nodded including Sasha, determination set into her firm jaw. Katya, however,
looked nervous, knowing that severing the Ice Queen’s power over the crystal was entirely up to her. Mistress Mala went first, pulling a torch from a bracket just inside the tower door. The men and woman of Illyander followed her down a spiraled stair into darkness.
With Mistress Mala in the lead, she and her Illyander companions traversed the underbelly of the Ice Queen’s Glacial Palace. The passageways turned from quarried stone into hewn rock as they descended further and further. Several wooden doors lined the way, but the group kept to the main hallway after opening a few to discover them only to be entrances to additional tunnels. The floors throughout were littered with foul smelling refuse, excrement, and the bones of half eaten decaying animals. It was becoming obvious that these lower tunnels had not been in daily use by its residents in a very long time, but that something did live down here. While not as cold as outside with the presence of wind, the hallways were still freezing and tomb-like. Katya pulled her cloak tighter, while keeping her hand raised to maintain the floating ball of light in front of her. The spell was Nhyme in nature and was most welcome after the single torch held by Mala had burned out. They continued to walk and walk, finding nothing but more empty hallways. Mistress Mala was cursing up front, sure that they had taken a wrong turn somewhere since they seemed to be continually descending and the walls were now solid stone. They must have wandered down into the old mining tunnels where the rock had been quarried for the towers above. The only reason they continued on their current route was because they kept hearing a noise echoing up the tunnel. It sounded like a growl followed by whimpering, the latter seeming eerily likes that of a baby.