The King's Summons

by Adam Glendon Sidwell

  The nominated dwarf coachman shrugged. “Princess wanted us to get to Foruk’s Falls. Didn’t say anything about stopping.”

  “Are you serious?” Blaze asked.

  “Figured she had something in mind. Wouldn’t she say something if she didn’t?” said the dwarf coachman.

  The dwarves and orcs hanging from every available handle, support, and foot runner on the carriage shored up their grips. It was amazing how many you could squeeze onto a carriage when you had to.

  Bort poked his head up from the rear platform of the carriage. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this!” he said, holding up a metal rod with a hook and spike on one end.

  “That’s a poker, Bort,” said Blaze.

  Bort nodded. “Aye. See, I’ll just jam it down here on the track behind us, and we’ll drag it on the ties until we slow down.”

  Blaze had been right to worry. She really needed to trust her hunches more. “Is that all you’ve got?” she asked.

  “I’ve got a shovel!” cried another dwarf. He waved a shovel in the air. Maybe that would help a little.

  “And he’s got a sandwich,” said Bort, pointing to Tort, who was just about to shove a two-foot-long sub sandwich into his mouth. He gave a sheepish grin.

  “But it’s only to be used in case of emergency,” said Bort.

  From inside the coach where Princess Sapphire and the dwarf princes were ostensibly talking strategy, a gruff voice bellowed, “Why aren’t we going any faster?”

  “Shimmies like a wheel is bent,” said the coachman. “That tends to slow us down a bit.”

  Blaze gritted her teeth as the carriage descended a steep stretch in the dark tunnel. “That’s a blessing from the Goddess,” she said.

  The Thunder Twins grumbled. Apparently they had other hopes.

  “And now for the shortcut,” said the coachman, a hint of excitement in his voice.

  Blaze blinked. “What?”

  “Parallel tunnels—they were built for one train to go up while the other was going down. There is a pressure switch that—”

  “Yeah, but how short is this cut?” asked Blaze. Something on the tracks below made a loud pop. Blaze gave a scream of terror as the carriage tipped down in the darkness.

  “That’s more like it!” bellowed Tort.

  The return trip had two possible outcomes: either they reached the end of the tunnel alive and managed to slow themselves with shovels and pokers, or the bent wheel broke and they careened off the rails to a grisly fate.

  The clattering of the carriage over the tracks grew louder and louder.

  There was a bump and then suddenly silence.

  “What was that?” asked Blaze.

  “What was what?” said the nominated coachman.

  They turned the corner and emerged into a large cavern filled with a crystal clear, underground, glowing blue lake—just like the pools Blaze had seen on the first leg of their journey, only many times larger. The glow seemed to come from deep down inside the waters, fading as it reached the surface, then shimmering across the cavern walls in a soft blue.

  The track ran along the lake’s edge, but that wasn’t what troubled Blaze. It was more the fact that the track was a long way back, and the carriage was careening through the air, plummeting toward the middle of the lake.

  The wheels had jumped the track.

  Dwarves and orcs leapt from the falling carriage, some screaming and others giving great whoops of excitement.

  The Thunder Twins bailed from either side, one attempting a cannon ball and the other going for a grand belly flop.

  Blaze felt herself fly free from the carriage, her stomach leaping up into her throat as her arms pinwheeled before her face found the water with a smack.

  She smashed through the water’s surface, the cold shocking her like a ton of bricks dropped on her lungs, forcing out every last degree of heat in her body with one magnificent blow. Her eyes flew open, and she looked up. In that instant, she saw the carriage sinking, a swarm of bubbles floating to the surface around it, and dwarves and orcs smashing into the water, one after another.

  Blaze fought back panic. Her immediate instinct was to kick to the surface, to fight the cold, to find air. But first she needed to get control of herself.

  She hesitated. The blue glow beneath her pulsed just like the gem on Princess Sapphire’s sword had, as if it were calling her. It was giving off warmth in waves. It was majestic. And beautiful. A shining gem inviting her close.

  Suddenly, she was calm again. Without thinking, Blaze dove downward, kicking toward the Princess-Sapphire-blue glow.

  This was madness. She would run out of air. But the further she went, the warmer the water became, until it charged up her body once again, replenishing her, filling her up, and washing away her pains.

  The essence of the Goddess. The spirit of the Goddess was strong here.

  Blaze of Midway, weave yourself into the tapestry. The thought was as clear and precise as if a voice had said it to her.

  How? thought Blaze.

  Weave together. Forgive. Save Dreck. Win the day.

  It wasn’t a voice this time. She just knew. Dreck—the enemy would have taken him back to Foruk’s Falls as a hostage. He needed her.

  A burst of warmth and light hit Blaze. She arched her back and spread her arms, soaking it in, capturing it, absorbing it until it became part of her.

  The Goddess was not gone. Blaze could feel it in her bones. A switch flipped inside her.

  Reluctant to leave, she swam to the surface and broke through, gasping for air. It had all lasted less than a minute, but that was enough.

  When she reached the shore, most of the dwarves and orcs were already there, shivering violently, teeth chattering loudly as they huddled together on the cold rocks.

  The rest were still swimming ashore, dragging themselves out of the water with numb limbs while others tried to help.

  They were a sorry looking lot, mangled and beaten by battle—and now this.

  Even with as much bravado as they had just moments before, Bort and Tort’s faces had turned dangerously blue, and the light had gone from their eyes. Icicles had already formed on a few of the dwarves’ beards. They were cold, and if some something didn’t warm them all soon in the subzero tunnel, they would freeze and die.

  “Ember Mage . . .” said Bort in a weak whisper.

  They needed her. Their lives depended on her power.

  This was not an act of battle, but an act of kindness. Not an act of violence, but an act of love. In this moment, her fire had to be a gift.

  Bort didn’t even have to finish his sentence. Blaze summoned her fire.

  But this time it was different. This time, instead of tapping into her anger to light the spark, she paused, and reached for something else that was close at hand, that wanted to be found: she tapped into the core of Crystalia. She felt herself as a thread in the tapestry of all things. She felt the connection to the Goddess. Heat flooded into her, deep inside her chest, just like it had in the depths of the lake.

  Then she lit herself into a human torch. She coaxed the flame, up and out of her, curling it around her in a torus, then spinning it, recirculating the heat and moving the air like a desert wind.

  The dwarves and orcs took two steps back, some of them shielding their eyes from the heat. Blaze kept the flame circulating, pushing the warmth outward.

  At first the flame was red, but the longer she burned it, the deeper she drew from the essence of Crystalia she had just touched, the more the flame began to burn white.

  And she did not lose strength as she burned it.

  The dwarves and orcs began to stir, hopping in place and turning as the fire streaming over Blaze baked the cold out of them and turned it into a cloud of hissing steam.

  The icicles on their beards melted away, and Bort’s face turned a healthy pink again. Even the tips of the orcs’ noses were red with the heat. As each dwarf or
orc regained his composure, he stopped to stare at Blaze with mouth hung open.

  “Your eyes,” said Bort, his jaw agape.

  Princess Sapphire took a step forward. She peered into Blaze’s face, dumbfounded. “They’re white,” she said.

  White. The world hadn’t turned red this time when she’d summoned the flame. Something had changed. Something had grown inside her.

  “In all my travels of Crystalia, I have never seen such a thing,” whispered Princess Sapphire in awe, her deep blue eyes so wide, Blaze could see her reflection burning in them. She saw her own eyes, and they indeed were glowing white.

  The princess raised her fingers, as if to reach out and touch Blaze, then hesitated as if she thought better of it.

  So they had seen it too. Blaze had struck upon something wholly different. In doing this act for them, she’d taken some of the essence she’d felt in the depths of the lake. She’d weaved herself into the tapestry.

  She let her flame slow, then flicker, then fade away. But the glow stayed in her heart.

  “Hey, my trousers shrank!” cried a dwarf as he inspected his ankles.

  “You look like a fat man in a pair of women’s knickers!” bellowed the dwarf closest him.

  Princess Sapphire stared at them both, as if she were reluctant for anyone to break the spell. Then she spoke. “At least you won’t freeze solid again the moment we climb outside of the tunnel,” she said.

  She studied Blaze for another moment. It looked like there was something puzzling her. A slippery thought she was trying to grasp.

  “Blaze . . .” she said, then never finished her sentence. Instead, she looked like she’d made up her mind about something. She found a stick and drew a map of Foruk’s Falls in a patch of mud.

  “We have only a few miles between us and the city. There are several access hatches we can climb out of before we reach the gates. Approaching the city undetected won’t be a problem.”

  “But we need a new plan,” said Bort.

  Princess Sapphire stabbed the mud several times. “Here are the secret entrances to the city. The Torch Road and Everlight Express platforms are sure to be guarded heavily now, but there are still the cracks between the mountain and wall, and the old siege tunnel.”

  Tort looked over her shoulder. He made a new mark in the mud. “And the east gate is too small to guard with a large fighting force,” he said. “No one would think of that as the attack point for a major onslaught.”

  “Then we’ll focus our main attack there and draw the Rimefrost Orcs’ attention away from the second and third squads who will have snuck in through the secret entrances,” said the princess.

  She turned to the dwarf archers. “I want a hail of arrows coming at them from all sides before we break through that gate.”

  They nodded and saluted in response. Dwarves were never much for words.

  “What about the jotnar?” asked Tort. It seemed to be the question on everyone’s mind.

  Princess Sapphire turned to look at Blaze. Blaze met her eyes. They seemed to say, “Your turn.” The princess didn’t know. She needed a plan.

  “How many metal shields do we have left?” asked Blaze.

  Bort looked around them. “That aren’t at the bottom of the lake?” he asked. “Maybe a dozen or so.”

  “And gloves?” asked Blaze. All the dwarves held up thick leather gloves. The orcs’ knuckles were bare.

  “Good. Form up in squads, a half dozen or so men to each shield bearer. Stick close to each other,” said Blaze. A plan was starting to form in her head. She had no idea if it would work, but it was better than no plan at all.

  Princess Sapphire looked over Blaze appraisingly. She gave the slightest nod as if to approve. “Everyone stays out of sight for as long as possible. Do not engage the dark jotnar until absolutely necessary. Follow Blaze’s lead. Any arguments to the contrary?”

  “But what about the dark jotnar?!” Tort asked again. He stomped his feet. It was very unlike him. “Are we forgetting that just hours ago, it defeated us hands down? We nearly lost our entire little army. Metal shields and secret entrances aside, we’re no match for it.”

  Bort put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Nearly freezing to death had seemed to take some bite out of both of the Thunder Twins. The orcs nodded in agreement.

  Princess Sapphire dropped her stick. “We have something new now that no one has ever had before,” she said. They all looked at her, orc and dwarf alike, as if waiting for her very next word.

  Princess Sapphire looked at Blaze. “We have the first White Ember Mage.”

  Chapter 20: A Battle of Fire and Ice

  Blaze waited silently, hidden in the trees outside Foruk’s Falls with her squad, her eyes focused on the city’s gate. Her chest burned with fire.

  Princess Sapphire had taken one squad with her toward the crack at the base of the mountain. Bort and Tort had led the other into the siege tunnel.

  A familiar raven fluttered down from the sky and landed on Blaze’s shoulder. “Hello Rav,” she said. She ruffled his head feathers. He would know where they were keeping Dreck. “We’ll help him, Rav. I promise,” she said. She found that she meant it.

  Get into the city. Find Dreck. Stop the dark jotnar. Defeat Cernonos.

  The dwarves’ and Crook-Eye Orcs’ slow, methodical breathing sent puffs of steam into the frigid air.

  A hail of arrows shot skyward from inside the city. A moment later, and a second hail flew from the opposite direction near the place where the mountain met the city wall. The dwarf archers had begun the attack. The city erupted in the shouts and clangs of battle.

  “Now!” cried Blaze. She charged forward, her hands glowing fire, the squad of dwarves and Crook-Eye Orcs trailing behind her. This time, just like back in the tunnel, the scene did not turn red. It was white. As she ran, she looked down at her burning hands. The red flame was tipped in a silver-white glow.

  She shot out two columns of flame, blasting the Rimefrost Orc guards that stood atop the tiny wooden gate and knocking them back off the wall.

  She shot a second concussive fireball straight at the wooden gate. It was only wide enough for a single dwarf to pass through at a time, but the wood was thick and studded with metal spikes.

  It broke easily anyway, splintering into tiny shards as soon as her fireball hit it.

  Blaze shot through the narrow opening. “Fire Wave!” she said, blasting out a wave of protective red and silver fire as soon as she cleared the gate.

  The pressure from the Fire Wave knocked over several Rimefrost Orcs who were advancing on the gate.

  On the other side of the wall was the city park and behind that, the magnificent, enormous, blue icicle that was the frozen waterfall. At its base was a large open area. That was where the jotnar would be.

  And the danger.

  Several orc encampments with bonfires littered the city park. There must have been at least a hundred Rimefrost Orcs just in the park, with gnolls and kobolds mixed in between.

  Rav flew ahead, dodging and weaving until he landed on the barred windowsill of a distant tower on the other side of the river. He turned and cawed at Blaze.

  Dreck. That’s where they’re holding Dreck.

  Blaze ran across the square, blasting Rimefrost Orcs as she went. Behind her, the sounds of battle raged as sword clanged against ax, and dwarves, orcs, gnolls, and kobolds clashed.

  She blasted one kobold, then a gnoll, then another. Each successive fireball was more silvery-white than the last as it shot from her palms, until she rolled, unleashing a Fire Wave of pure white flame at a line of attacking Rimefrost Orcs.

  Blaze shed her white fur coat—it was too easy to spot against the backdrop of painted stone houses behind her. Plus, she needed to be free, to move without restriction. She was not cold, not now.

  She surged forward, all the while twisting and turning, fireballs blasting into Rimefrost Orcs, knocking them out of the ba
ttle. She was a whirlwind of motion and flame, the strange, new white fire filling her core and clearing her vision.

  Blaze would never have been able to concentrate on so many enemies at once with red fire. Too much of that came from raw anger. But the white fire cleared her head and opened her senses until she was able to feel the whole scene before her and around her: the position of each orc, the swing of each ax, the rhythm of the battle.

  She knocked back wave after wave of advancing Rimefrost Orcs, dispatching them with grace and precision.

  Dreck. Must get Dreck.

  She charged the tower.

  Forty paces away. Then Thirty. Then twenty.

  The ground shook beneath her. Boom. Boom. Two dull impacts, one tremor after another, then a third. Footsteps.

  A shadow passed over the city park and stretched to the frozen river beneath the falls. For a moment, the battle seemed to stop.

  Blaze looked up mid-stride. The ice-blue form of the dark jotnar towered above her, skin laced with red runes, Iron Collar clamped about its neck, eyes glowing ember.

  She changed direction, pivoting off her right foot and darting hard left. She needed to be ready.

  Her army behind her had broken into several squads, each made up of a shield-bearing dwarf, a few dwarf spearmen, and some orcs with battle axes. The other squads with the archers would be out in front, somewhere to her right and left, hidden from view.

  “Fire Cloud!” she said, casting three fireballs up at the jotnar’s head, each one more for show than actual damage. She just needed to distract it. She needed to buy them a little time.

  “Form up!” cried the nearest shield-bearing dwarf.

  The dark jotnar wound its arm back like it was about to throw, then hurled a blast of freezing ice particles at Blaze. She dodged, and the dark jotnar hurled another ice blast, this time aimed at the squad right behind her. Blaze felt the sting of stray ice crystals on her face and watched as the blast froze a swath of the city solid. Good thing she wasn’t in the center of the concentrated blast. That one would have been deadly.

  But their little army had been expecting exactly that. As soon as the dark jotnar had hurled its first blast of ice, the squads each formed into a tight single file line with the shield-bearing dwarf in front.