by Pedro Urvi
Suddenly a scene he recognized began to unfold. The leaders of the three Peoples of the Frozen Continent assembled beside the totem, and a Semi-Giant stepped forward on behalf of the Wild Ones of the Ice, taller than two Norghanians and broader at the shoulder than three. His skin was ice-blue, streaked with diagonal white veins. His hair and beard were long, apparently frozen, of a white that was almost bluish. The great eye in the middle of his forehead, with its large blue iris, chilled Lasgol. He could never get used to seeing these figures. They inspired terror.
The second leader, of the Tundra Dwellers, had brilliantly white skin and snow-white hair. Everything about him shone like crystallized snow, and his eyes were an intense grey. Like all his race he was very tall, very athletic and very slim. In his hands he carried a long javelin.
The third leader, of the Arcanes of the Glaciers, was far smaller and slighter than the other two, so that beside them he looked like a child. His skin was bluish, marked with areas of crystal-white. Like all Arcanes, his head was shaven and tattooed with a strange rune in crystal white. In his right hand he carried a staff of animal bones, decorated with strange symbols. Lasgol knew that this was a powerful Shaman.
He heaved a deep sigh. He had realized that he recognized them. They were the same three Chiefs he had seen at the ceremony with the Frozen Specter. If they were still here, beside the totem, there could be only one reason.
He was not mistaken.
All the Wild Ones, Dwellers and Arcanes began to intone their strange ceremonial chant, a slow rise and fall of deep tones, sung at the tops of their voices.
The ritual was beginning.
Amid the chanting of the long prayer, the three leaders knelt before the enormous totem.
Lasgol touched his mother’s ring, the Ring of the Frozen Languages. Soon enough the chanting reached him on the breeze, and the ring translated in his mind:
“Come to us, your servants. Come to us, Horror of the Frozen Abyss of No Return. Come and accept our offer. Come and take their souls with you. May they serve you in your abyss and never return. Deliver your servants from their presence. Feed your hunger for impure souls.”
They were summoning the Frozen Specter! He warned Sven and Gatik at the top of his voice: “Sir! The ritual chant! They’re calling the Frozen Specter!”
Sven glanced at him for a moment, then at the Ice Magi.
“We’ll deal with his forces! Eicewald, the Specter is yours!”
“We’ll deal with the creature,” Eicewald assured him.
“Don’t fail! Death to the enemy!” Sven shouted, and in his eyes Lasgol saw that he knew he was gambling with the lives of three thousand Norghanian soldiers.
“Destroy it!” Gatik called to the Mage. “Death to the enemy!”
Sven and Gatik continued their advance, with the Norghanian lines descending toward the village like a giant wave about to crash against a dam.
“Lasgol, with us,” Eicewald said.
Lasgol nodded and hastened to the Mage’s side.
“Don’t move from here,” Eicewald told him.
Sven pointed to the enemy with his sword. “Forward! Attack!”
The first line of soldiers began to advance. A moment later the second line followed, and then, with a coordinated movement came the third. As the three lines advanced, the soldiers yelled war-cries which spread from one end of each line to the other.
Behind the infantry lines, at the same pace, came Sven, Gatik and their men on their mounts.
“We’ll kick those brutes out of our territory!” Sven shouted.
“To the sea with them!” Gatik yelled. “Make them swim back to their continent!”
The soldiers joined their leaders with shouts of defiance against the enemy they were approaching with measured steps.
The magi now followed the soldiers, keeping a prudent distance of twenty paces. Lasgol followed Eicewald. From time to time he looked back to make sure Camu’s tracks were not obvious.
Be careful with your tracks.
I careful.
Don’t interfere in the battle unless I ask you to.
I with you. Defend.
That’s good. Thank you.
Beside him Ona growled, showing that she was ready to stand up to whatever she was confronted with.
Lasgol was grateful in his soul, because he knew it was true.
The war-cries of the Norghanians mingled with the strange ritual chant of the Wild Ones, Dwellers, Arcanes and Semi-Giants, who never interrupted their funereal intonation or moved in the slightest. The chanting grew stronger every moment, thunderous, competing in volume with the shouts of the Norghanians.
Suddenly what Lasgol had been fearing happened.
From the north, into the village, came the Creature of the Frozen Continent.
The Frozen Specter.
They made way for it, and it made its way to the Totem, where the three leaders were still kneeling and intoning the summoning. Lasgol shuddered at the sight. It was even bigger than the last time he had seen it: enormously tall, as tall as a Wild One together with a Semi-Giant. It was not wide, but lean, considering how tall it was. How was it managing to grow? Did this mean it was even more powerful now? It moved as if levitating a couple of paces above the partially snow-covered ground. The spectral face, even bigger now, looked as though it had been frozen in an expression of horror for all eternity. Lasgol saw that its body was still translucent, partly formed of ice and frost. Its color and the look of its body gave the impression of some unusual mixture of Semi-Giant and Arcanes of the Glaciers. He wondered whether such a race really existed, or had ever existed, or whether the creature was simply an abomination whose appearance happened to echo that fusion of races. That it was a creature with power there was no doubt, once you saw how, as it walked, its body gave off a mist that sank to the ground and froze everything it touched.
Danger! Specter! came Camu’s warning. The creature could feel the powerful magic of the being.
Thanks, Camu. Stay hidden and don’t do anything unless I tell you to. This is going to turn nasty very fast.
I alert.
That’s right. And wait for my command.
“The Frozen Specter,” Lasgol said to Eicewald. “It’s grown in size, and I suppose that means in power too.”
The Mage watched the creature in the distance for some time, and shook his head.
“It truly resembles some spectral being, something from a nightmare.”
“What are we going to do?”
“We need to come to within two hundred paces so that the spell reaches it.”
Lasgol nodded, although the idea did not appeal to him at all. Getting close to that thing meant death. He felt it was too close, but he knew that spells failed from any further away.
Concern began to make itself felt among the soldiers. They could see the Specter in the middle of the village, and some of them missed a step at the sight. Even the most daring of the warriors shrank before the icy abomination facing them.
“Keep up the pace!” Sven ordered.
“All together, forward!” came Gatik’s commanding voice.
“Our Ice Magi will take care of the Specter!” Sven assured them, trying to raise their morale.
The soldiers picked up the beat again and shouted at the tops of their voices.
The three leaders of the Peoples of the Frozen Continent stood up and watched as the Specter stopped in front of the Totem. They intoned the chant again and pointed to the enemy forces, which were now a hundred and fifty paces away. The entire army of the Frozen Continent chanted, as one. The Specter watched the three lines of Norghanian soldiers approaching, then without a word or any sound it began to move forward. The line of defenders parted to let it through as it made its way alone toward the Norghanian forces, which it did not seem to fear in the least.
The scene looked unreal. Three thousand Norghanian infantry soldiers were advancing, and the Specter was coming to meet them as if it could deal with them o
n its own. The Wild Ones, Dwellers, Arcanes and Semi-Giants, without moving from where they were, went on intoning their ritual chant.
Eicewald halted, with his eyes fixed on the creature. “We’re less than two hundred paces away now,” he said.
The five Magi dismounted. Lasgol leapt off Trotter and gave him a pat. Stay close, he transmitted, and followed the Magi, who were forming a circle around Eicewald. Ona followed him as far as the Magi.
Stay here. Don’t move, he transmitted. Ona gave a moan and lay down.
At an order from Eicewald, the five Ice Magi formed themselves into a line. At a second order, they cast a spell at the Specter. Eicewald, in the center, attacked with a powerful Frozen Bolt with the aim of piercing it. At once the other Magi conjured up Stakes of Ice which shot out and hit the Specter with enormous force, together with a Frozen Stalagmite which formed above it and came down to crush it with its massive weight. The two Magi at the far ends conjured a Crystallized Sphere, which flew at the Specter and exploded into thousands of cutting shards, then a Frozen Trident which struck it full in the chest with tremendous force. All the spells were of enormous power and would have destroyed any creature.
But not this one.
The Specter received the impacts and noxious effects of the spells, and survived. Lasgol’s jaw dropped, and there was a feeling of horror in his stomach.
“That was to be expected,” Eicewald said. “We had to establish that our spells wouldn’t finish it off.” He turned to the other Magi. “We’ll take up our positions.”
“What about me?” Lasgol asked. He wanted to help, whatever way he could.
“In the middle,” Eicewald said, and beckoned with his mage’s staff.
The war cries of the Norghanian soldiers thundered in front of Lasgol. Eicewald handed him a pair of strange, orange-gold gloves.
“Put these on. They’ll protect you from the noxious effects of the Eternal Snowflake.”
The gloves were metal, and as soon as he put them on he felt the temperature around him rising. “Are they charmed?” he asked anxiously.
“Yes, but don’t worry, they’re a Minor Object of Power. The spell is a protective one. It’s not too powerful.”
This reply did not entirely reassure him.
Eicewald unwrapped the Eternal Snowflake from its scarf and gave it to Lasgol, who took it using the gloves.
“Hold it high above your head. Whatever happens, don’t let go of it.”
Lasgol nodded, though whatever happens did not reassure him very much. Eicewald took hold of his arms and raised them above his head, so that the Eternal Snowflake would be as high as possible.
“Remember, don’t move under any circumstances.”
He went back to the circle to join the other Magi. Lasgol stared at the Eternal Snowflake, while at the same time he felt the temperature around him beginning to go down. His gloves began to give out an orange glow, protecting him from the increasing cold. After only a moment he realized that they were not going to protect him completely, because his feet began to grow cold.
The Magi held their staves in front of them, holding them with both hands. Eicewald began to pronounce words of power which Lasgol could not understand, and the other Ice Magi joined in the incantation He felt that the gloves were now protecting his arms, his head and his upper body, but the cold in his lower limbs was beginning to bite into his flesh. He would just have to put up with it.
While the Magi invoked the great spell, the army went on with its advance. The soldiers in the front line attacked the creature as they reached it. They yelled war-cries to counter their terror in the face of something which seemed to have come from some icy abyss, seeking to devour their souls. They launched axe-blows at it, which passed cleanly through those insubstantial limbs, though their axes found elements of ice in its torso and made contact. The Specter was undisturbed by this, and they barely managed to graze the steel-hard ice. Those who sought the creature’s neck or heart found only air.
Seeing that their comrades were unable to kill the Specter, more soldiers joined in the attack until it was completely surrounded. They hit it with all their strength, but either they only found ice they were unable to break, or else their blades met thin air in those parts of its body that were ethereal. A whirlwind of Norghanian soldiers had now formed around the Specter, trying to destroy it.
They were not succeeding.
The Frozen Specter decided to get rid of this disturbance. Its insubstantial arms reached out and touched the chests of the soldiers in front of it. Enormous, spectral hands touched their hearts. The soldiers gaped and arched back, and their gaze was lost in the infinite sky. Their faces turned ghostly white, and a moment later they fell to the ground with an expression of infinite horror on their faces, as if they had been robbed of their souls alive.
The Ice Magi cast their spell, more intensely this time. A blue arc of pure magical energy left Eicewald’s staff and made contact with the Eternal Snowflake, which now turned sky-blue. A moment later a second arc formed between the staff of another of the Ice Magi and the Eternal Snowflake. One by one the others joined in, and the energy began to build up in the Snowflake, so that little by little its brightness grew.
The Specter, surrounded now by soldiers, began to move its immaterial arms at great speed, seeking to steal the souls of all around it. Those arms stretched out to touch the chests of the soldiers, and an instant later they fell dead. It was as if the more that fell, the faster it could kill the next ones. The soldiers, seeing that their weapons were having no effect, hurled themselves on it to bring it down, but without success. As soon as they touched its body the mist it was giving out froze them, leaving them as statues of ice.
The soldiers who were clustered around the Specter broke ranks in chaos, unable either to kill the Specter or escape alive from its deadly touch.
A moment later the situation turned even more complicated. The Leaders of the Peoples of the Frozen Continent stopped their ritual chant.
They gave their forces the order to attack.
Chapter 16
Sven and Gatik realized that the enemy line was advancing and that their own lines were broken at the center. They tried to redress the situation immediately before the clash occurred, and realized that they were likely to lose because of poor positioning. In battle, formations and correct strategy were as important as courage and skill with weapons, if not more so.
“Line formation!” Sven ordered.
“In three lines!” Gatik added.
“Back into formation! Now!” Sven repeated.
The soldiers at the ends went obediently back to their positions, but the center of the lines was sheer chaos. The Specter was finishing off all the soldiers around it, either by freezing them alive or by stealing their souls and taking them with it to an abyss of terror they would never come back from, and which their faces would show forever.
“Stay in line!” Sven was still shouting. He knew this moment was crucial.
The Wild Ones, the Tundra Dwellers, the Arcanes of the Glaciers and the Semi-Giants roared at the tops of their voices and moved forward.
“Rangers, release!” Gatik ordered.
“Get away from the Specter! Keep the line!” Sven shouted to his own soldiers.
The Rangers tried to reach the Specter, but just as with the soldiers, their efforts were in vain. The arrows either went through the incorporeal areas of its body, or struck ice, but did no more than chip it.
“Use Elemental Fire arrows!” Gatik ordered. Water or Earth arrows would do nothing, but fire might be able to affect it, since it was partly ice.
The Rangers nocked fire arrows, aimed at the Specter and released. Each arrow produced a small explosion, followed by a flame. When several arrows struck it at the same time the burst of flame produced was enormous, and this was followed by another when the remaining arrows were fired. The Specter stopped and gave an abysmal screech, a mixture of rage and pain. Fire certainly seemed to affect it.
“More fire arrows!” Gatik insisted.
While the Rangers kept the Specter occupied, the Norghanian soldiers went back to their original formation. They managed to form into three lines to confront the enemy forces, which were coming upon them with deafening, icy shouts.
The Rangers went on releasing fire arrows, but although the explosions and flares of fire seemed to hurt the Specter, they could not succeed in making it burn. Its body was partly formed of ice, and the frost it was producing eventually put out the fire which covered the ice. They fired and fired until they had used up all their fire arrows.
“Use the Air Arrows!” Gatik ordered.
When the Rangers did so, the discharges hit the Specter with every arrow, so that once again it screeched with rage and pain. And yet, just as had happened with the fire arrows, they could not produce any significant effect on it.
“Release all your Elementals!” Gatik called. By now he was desperate.
The results this time were even worse. Arrows of Earth and Water had no effect on the being from the Frozen Continent.
Lasgol was watching Eicewald as he chanted more strongly, joined by the other Ice Magi. He could see them concentrating hard, eyes shut. He could barely feel his feet, which were freezing. He focused on keeping his arms up and holding fast to the Eternal Snowflake, which seemed on the point of bursting into a thousand crystal shards, so intense was its radiance now.
The Norghanian soldiers and the enemy line crashed together with an impact of steel and wood. A moment later, amid deafening cries and brutal blows, steel and wood met flesh. The fight between the two armies resembled the clash of two herds of stampeding wild horses. Meanwhile, in the center, the Specter was once again unstoppable, wreaking havoc among the Norghanians.
In the front line the Norghanian soldiers delivered blows with their axes from behind their shields. The Wild Ones, bigger and stronger, were not afraid of them and in many cases overcame them by brute strength. In others, the skill and training of the soldiers enabled them to overcome their opponents. The Dwellers hurled their javelins against the Norghanian lines as one, and though the soldiers tried to protect themselves with their shields, many fell dead or wounded. Those who were not hit hurled themselves at the Dwellers, who now felt the fury of the Norghanian infantry.