Ice & Smoke

by Elizabeth Belyeu

  "He is equally dead, whether by my hand or yours. Only one option kills you as well."

  "We will find another way."

  "You have been endeavoring to convince me of our lack of options."

  "Well, this is no option. All else aside, if I know of a threat to my master, I must defend him. So your plan cannot succeed."

  I nodded. Clearly, any further plans along that line must be kept secret from Braith.

  "We have most of a day and night to tax our brains," he said. "There will be something." One hand drifted up from my shoulder, to brush back and forth across my cheek. I closed my eyes and leaned into it.

  "I believe you should hunt, if you are able," I said, tucking his other arm back into its sling, and surprised when he permitted it. "We will both have time to think clearly, and food will aid your strength. You will need all your strength tomorrow, one way or the other."

  "You are likely correct." He hesitated. "Ari, we should neither one act on any plan until we have had more time to consider."

  "I agree."

  "You swear you intend Owain no violence in my absence?"

  "If you will swear likewise, to attempt nothing without further discussion."

  "We are agreed, then." He hesitated, turned for the door—then turned back, captured my face in his hand for another kiss, long and lingering.

  "Go, then, hunt," I said at length, making an effort to unwind my arms from his neck. "We have much to accomplish and no time for dallying."

  "I suppose there will be time later for… dallying."

  I blushed and pushed him away, which made him chuckle.

  "Very well, I will go," he said, and trailed one hand down my arm as he stepped back, lifting my hand to lay a kiss in the palm before he was quite out of reach. His eyes did not leave mine until the stable door closed between us, leaving me thoroughly scorched, and already cold without him.

  Elaysius found me in the garden, still working to repair the trampled rows and broken bean-poles.

  "Have you seen Gareth, Elaysius? I could surely make use of him here," I said.

  "Couldst thou? Seemeth to me, princess, that solitude is more thine aim. I judge only by the manner in which thou hast been talking to thyself, gesturing and muttering in agitation."

  "Well, I... have much on my mind."

  "Also thou art flushed and disheveled, and smellest strongly of dragon." He regarded me with innocent eyes and poorly-hidden amusement.

  "I am laboring out of doors, of course I am flushed and disheveled. And for the time being, I share my domicile with a dragon."

  "Thou must share considerably more than that, to smell so strong. Come, princess, I am not fooled, and why should I be? Thou art no longer betrothed, but free to give thy heart where thou chooseth."

  "Free? You call me free, who are trapped in a circle of one mile, and Braith and all else with me? How, then, am I free?"

  Elaysius settled thoughtfully onto a bean-pole, which swayed perilously beneath his weight. "But surely, being trapped with someone for whom thou carest so much, must make the situation more tolerable?"

  "It would, perhaps, if only... Oh, if only we could merely stay here!" Had not Braith said nearly the same thing when Owain first arrived? "You would rot here forever, rather than speak to him?" "It will not come to that. I wish it would." Ever so many things were making sense now—Braith's greater fear of Owain than of Tristan, his greater antagonism toward him, his reluctance to be left alone with him. The strange thing he had said, defending Gareth from Owain's temper—about the loss it would be to Owain, to kill Braith over a stableboy. The loss of his dragon, his great secret weapon.

  Was Owain sincere in his threat to kill Braith if I were uncooperative? Did he not value his weapon more than that? But what value the weapon, if he had no position from which to wield it? If he could not marry me, if the cause was lost, he might well kill Braith out of pure spite.

  It was not right, it was not right, that a man so petty and vicious could have such power over Braith, who was so much his superior in every way!

  "Princess?" Elaysius asked. "Wilt thou not tell me what distresseth thee?"

  "How I wish I could! You have ever been a source of comfort to me, Elaysius, and I could dearly use that now. But I cannot speak of it."

  "What, art thou a dragon now, bound by a master's command of silence?"

  "No," I said, thoughtfully.

  "Thou hast given thy word, then? A matter of honor, still, if not so lethally enforced as among dragons."

  "No, in fact." I did not in any sense owe obedience to Owain's command, nor could he know that I had broken it. As long as I was cautious. Tell none, or I will have but one more command for my dragon—to dive into the sea, and take a long, deep breath.

  I looked about us. Tristan and Owain were clearly visible, two hills away and far out of earshot, only just turning away from the horse's grave.

  A chilling risk, when it was not I who would pay if this proved a mistake. But if we did not have help, it looked likely that Braith would die anyway.

  "Very well, then, Elaysius," I said. "Come close, and I will tell you all."

  ◆◆◆

  Braith did not return until nightfall. It made for a long day indeed, going about the household business as if nothing were out of the ordinary, when I grew every hour more convinced that he had been hurt, in his weakened state, and lay helpless or dead in the forest. No, not dead, surely, for the fire-flowers circling the tower remained bright as ever. Good heavens, who could have anticipated a day when that would be a comfort?

  Even as the hours dragged, I managed to be simultaneously uneasy about the swift passage of time, for every moment brought us closer to night and its following dawn. If we had no plan of action by then, all options would be taken from our hands.

  After supper, all gathered to hear Tristan and Genevieve play the pipe, trading it back and forth mid-song or even mid-line, moving together as if they had done it all their lives. They sat close enough for their legs to touch and could not seem to look away from each other for long.

  However things worked out, then, I had done one good in the world.

  When I slipped up the stairs, Elaysius, Gareth and Owain had started singing along, with varying degrees of melodiousness. None seemed to notice my departure.

  At the top of the tower, the wind blew chill, driving thin clouds through the sinking light of sunset. I leaned against the rampart, watching the dark line of the forest, and tried not to let my teeth chatter. I would be ever so much warmer if Braith were here. I wanted Braith here right now. And Rindargeth. And my parents. And Tegwen. And Tristan, for that matter, the boy Tristan who had been my friend when marriage was but a faraway dream.

  I could have none of these things at this moment, not one. Some of them I could never have again.

  But some I could. It seemed unavoidable that the circle would fall tomorrow. I might be back in Caibryn before the first snow. The thought made my hands clammy.

  Whatever would my father think of Braith?

  And where was the accursed dragon anyway? How long did it take to lay hold of a wild pig or two? Did it not occur to him that some might look for his coming, might worry when he delayed?

  Before I could work myself into any more of a lather, a large white shape came slinking out of the trees.

  Down the stairs I went, as quietly as I could, and to the front door, turning back just at the threshold to catch Elaysius's eye. He nodded, his singing voice never wavering.

  I had intended to keep my progress slow and careful across the darkening hillside, there being no specific hurry and no advantage to tripping and falling. Instead, I found myself dashing across the ground as quickly as my legs would go, despite the pain to my wounds. I reached Braith, running right through the last hot wisps of transformation smoke—just in time to catch him as he staggered and nearly collapsed.

  "Curse me for a fool, I forgot to convert the injury," he said. "I shall have a bad leg, for the
present, instead of a bad arm."

  "I shall curse you indeed, since you've so kindly granted permission, and what can possibly have taken you so long? I was about to give you up for dead, and good riddance!"

  I felt him huff a laugh into my hair. "I missed you, too, dearest."

  Dearest.

  "It is not so easy to hunt half-blind and crippled," he continued. "And I did not wish to return without some plan to offer. But I have had to do so in the end."

  "Mmm," I said, not entirely able to hear him through the beautiful solidity of his back under my hands and the warmth of his arms around me in return. I was no longer cold at all. "And how do you fare, now you have hunted?"

  "I feel stronger, certainly. I think that is all we can expect at this juncture. And you, how do you fare? You have done nothing foolish in my absence?" He pulled back to regard my face closely, as if examining me for signs of foolishness.

  "Not... foolish, I hope. But risky," I admitted. "I have taken Elaysius into our confidence."

  He looked at me in some mixture of exasperation and worry. "Elaysius?"

  "I know he seems a silly fellow, Braith, but at his core he is a true knight and stalwart friend. He thinks it is possible he can be of help, and waits even now to discuss it with us."

  "This is a risk indeed, Ariana. I hope you have judged aright."

  "Frankly I figure it is difficult, at this point, to worsen our situation."

  "A valid point." He seemed to lose his train of thought, brushing wisps of hair from my face and leaning subtly closer. "Do you know, I actually did miss you."

  I told myself sternly that we had no time for nonsense and I ought to extricate myself before—too late, I was kissing him again, my universe narrowing to scorching skin and fine, soft hair and the mingled scents of fire and snow.

  But Elaysius was waiting. As soon as I could bear to, I pulled myself free and aimed us at the tower. I supported him on one side as we walked. He could have walked alone, I was sure, if the leg was no worse than the arm had been. I found my heart strangely warmed by his allowing me to aid him. I could not imagine him letting Gareth or Genevieve do the same.

  Inside the tower, we found Owain asleep by the fire, looking peaceful enough, if awkwardly positioned where he had slumped without warning. Elaysius's spell was more effective, then, than he had hoped. Tristan slept there, too, arranged more comfortably with cushions and blankets; doubtless Genevieve's work, since she and Gareth were not in evidence. I clenched my teeth; leaving Genevieve and Gareth awake had not been part of the plan. Cursed fairy.

  The three of them were waiting in my chamber when Braith and I made our painful way up the stairs, none of us willing to chance this discussion in the room with Owain, sleeping or not.

  Braith looked from Elaysius, perched on the bedpost, to Gareth and Genevieve seated on the bed. "Well, fairy, I take it you have been free with the juicy gossip with which you were entrusted."

  "I have gathered my friends together to face a threat," Elaysius said. "A threat to one of us is a threat to all."

  "Ariana is not immediately threatened."

  "I was not speaking entirely of Ariana. Though I think she may find thy prospective death very threatening indeed."

  "Fairy says Prince Owain a bad man," Gareth said. "We have to make him stop." He looked both angry and frightened, and Genevieve, sitting beside him on the bed, put a reassuring hand to his shoulder. Her face was mostly calm, even cold—but I could see the minute traces of agitation in her mouth and shoulders, as she absorbed this new information about her beloved's brother.

  Elaysius left his perch on the bedpost to stand on the hearth, where he opened a large (for a fairy) leather satchel and laid out its contents in the firelight. It was a small collection of fairy-sized rings, knives, vials, medallions, fine chains, and coils of rope.

  "All fairies may work magic," he said, "much as all humans or dragons might, oh... dance, for instance. But they may not all dance well. Among my people I am a warrior, not a wizard, with very little chance of working a spell on the fly. My spells are therefore prepared beforehand, mostly by others more skilled than myself, and housed in these enchanted objects."

  "That ring," I said, pointing. "You used it against the ghouls."

  "Yes, and have unfortunately exhausted it thereby."

  "Which of these is the knife that you used on me, to such memorable effect?" Braith asked.

  Elaysius indicated a sliver of bright metal. "I believe it very likely exhausted as well, nor, as we discovered, will it work as intended on a larger being. Though a human is considerably smaller than a dragon."

  "This other knife, what is its purpose?"

  Elaysius explained the entire bewildering array of possibilities attached to the enchanted objects, which included such tricks as finding and purifying water, muddying one's own scent, giving an extra burst of speed in flight, and inducing confusion in one's enemy.

  "Confusion," I said. "To the point of forgetfulness? Is it possible to make Braith forget the commands he heard?"

  Elaysius shook his head. "The spell is meant to disorient physically, to make an enemy fall or turn the wrong way. To fog the memory requireth a very different spell, one that is far beyond mine ability."

  I huffed a frustrated sigh, shifting where I sat on the floor before the spread of enchantments. The movement brought a murmur of displeasure from Gareth, who was deeply involved in coaxing some little flowering weed into twining through my hair.

  "Of course, Elaysius is not the only one about with some magic to offer. How might you be useful to us, Gareth?" I asked, half-teasing.

  Gareth sat back, regarding me with solemn thought. "I could ask the stones."

  I blinked. Well, Gareth's little play-things had been right so far; he was a wizard, and the stones did speak to wizards.

  "Very well, Gareth," I said. "Ask the stones how Braith may get around Owain's commands."

  Gareth pulled the handful of little carven rocks from a pouch at his waist, muttered to them a moment, and cast them out upon the hearth.

  "Don't listen," he said, after scrutinizing the stones. "Don't listen to him."

  "I have little choice in that," Braith said impatiently. "To ignore him is my death."

  "No, no. Don't hear him." He clapped his hands over his ears, by way of demonstration. "Don't hear."

  "I have already heard the commands."

  "Yes," Elaysius said thoughtfully, "and they cannot be unheard... but we might yet prevent thee from hearing more." He held up a tiny lidded pot. "This ointment, applied to the ears, sharpens hearing. It would be a minor thing, even for me, to invert that spell."

  "Make me deaf?" Braith looked unsettled. "That is no comfortable idea... yet it may be effective."

  Crippled, half-blind, and deaf. It would be no effort for Braith to lose tomorrow's duel. "Will it really accomplish much?"

  "It may." Braith looked more thoughtful now than uncomfortable. "For instance, he has told me to come when I am called—but if I do not hear him call me..."

  "After the battle, you can leave," I said. "And he cannot call you back. Not so long as the ointment lasts."

  "Which is twenty-four hours, a full day uninterrupted," Elaysius said. "I can teach you a charm-word that would enable thee to interrupt the spell, and resume it later, which can make it last much longer."

  "Yet it must fail eventually, making me vulnerable once more, unless I am willing to deafen myself permanently... which is not, in fact, out of the question, if it would free me."

  "I do not think that will be necessary," I said, my heart suddenly racing as our situation began to seem resolvable in spite of all. "Take me with you."

  "What?"

  "When you leave, after the fight. Take me with you, into the forest. He cannot tell you not to."

  "But he will pursue."

  "Yes, he will," I said. "And we will be ready."

  Chapter 16

  It took hours to get every detail agreed upon, whi
ch was maddening as the plan was not particularly complex. Elaysius and I both assured Braith that we would not actually harm Owain—in any permanent sense. Elsewise, Braith would have no choice but to defend him from us. Owain, meanwhile, would not know that Braith knew anything of this plan. He would have no reason not to believe we would do to him whatever we thought we must.

  I planned to be extremely convincing.

  One by one, my companions succumbed to sleep; first Gareth, bored by our strategizing, curled beneath my blankets; then Genevieve, leaning against the bedpost, until I eased her into a more comfortable position; and eventually even Elaysius, when all was finally decided, a dim azure glow from the depths of a cushion.

  Braith and I remained on the floor before the fire, he leaning against the bed's footboard, while I leaned on him in turn, his heartbeat steady against my back. I was not certain how this extremely improper arrangement had come about, but no one had remarked upon it, and I felt no desire whatsoever to alter it.

  "I suppose we should both be as rested as possible," I said, "but I do not feel remotely sleepy."

  "Nor I."

  He had propped one arm on the knee of his bad leg, raised to keep me from crushing it; that arm now shifted somewhat, so that he could touch the flowers Gareth had wound through my hair. The other hand I took in my own, twining our fingers tight together.

  "By this time tomorrow you will be free," I said.

  "We have given enough thought to tomorrow. I am weary of it and it is not even here."

  "What would you talk of, then?"

  He considered. "Would you like to hear another tale of Torendelgar and Sharramalis?"

  "The heartmates. Yes, I dearly would."

  He told tales to me for some time, while outside my window the stars marched ever closer to their rest, and dawn. Every now and again I felt my grip on his hand tighten, as if to keep him from escaping, to keep this time from passing.

  He could indeed be free this time tomorrow. Or dead.

  To better demonstrate some fine point in the story to which I was only half-attending, Braith stood and tugged me onto the balcony, gesturing out at the sea and then up at the stars, speaking of fire in the sky and fire in the water and someone who did or did not drown—I hardly cared, I wished only to hear his voice and watch him move, eyes like embers in the darkness, the rest of him fitfully illuminated by starlight and the farthest flickers of the fire. In my mind I saw him motionless and scarlet-spattered, the light faded from his eyes, victim of Owain's incompetence or spite. I felt sick.