by Burt Candy
When he arrived at the village he rushed to the first house and wiped the frost from a window so that he could peer inside. He couldn't see anything unusual except that there were obviously no trolls on the ground floor. He hurried along the main street to his own house where his wife, parents and brother and sister should be waiting for him with a hot meal. When he pushed open the front door he was shocked to see them sitting around the kitchen table; shocked because they were frozen figures caught in the act of having an evening meal. He walked over to them and waved a hand in front of his wife's eyes. There was no response; she was like a statue. Bladefoot was bewildered and tears ran down his cheeks.
Leaving his own house he proceeded to the other houses, knocked on each door and, when there was no response, entered. He found the same situation in every one of the twenty houses that made up the village. The only differences were where the inhabitants of the house had been when they were frozen solid. Some were, like his own family, trapped having an evening meal; others were preparing meals, moving up stairways to their bedrooms or sitting in lounge chairs reading; babies and young children were in their cots or playing games. But everybody was equally frozen in their last act.
Questions buzzed through Bladefoot's mind. Who had committed this terrible deed? Why had they done it? How had they done it? He searched his memory for anything that the Snow Trolls might have done in the past to cause such a shocking response but came up with nothing. These villagers had been peaceful for over a century and had always been loyal to their Ice Queen. He could think of no reason for them to be attacked in this fashion. It seemed senseless.
When he had returned to his own house he sat down in an armchair, away from his frozen family, to settle his nerves, think things through and try to come up with some plan of action. It had obviously been some sort of spell that had been placed upon the village. Who was capable of casting a spell as large as this? There were a few Shamans or witchdoctors who might have the power to do it- Malak, Rashi, or Alwan, among them - but Bladefoot couldn't believe that any of them had a reason to wish harm on his village.
He was totally confused. Now he considered who he could turn to for help. The obvious person was their leader, the Ice Queen, Atalai. She was the one person he could be certain had nothing to do with this disaster. She recognised how loyal the villagers had been in the past, even sending her a gift of a beautifully crafted fur coat last winter. As well, in the history of Frizland the Snow Trolls had been the fiercest of soldiers and had so seriously defeated the enemies who had invaded their country that there had been no further conflict for over a hundred years. Frizland was at peace – which made this attack even more unbelievable.
Having made up his mind to seek the assistance of the Ice Queen, Bladefoot prepared for the long journey by foot to the queen's palace. The blizzard was still raging, rattling the windows of his house, so he decided to stay in the house overnight, have a hot meal and, hopefully, a good night's sleep before braving the storm once again. He was in for a spooky night considering the company he was keeping.
Chapter 2
Atalai, The Ice Queen
Bladefoot had a restless night and climbed out of bed in the morning feeling just as tired as when he had climbed in. Thoughts of the tragedy that had befallen his village kept racing through his mind. What would he do if the spell couldn't be lifted? All of the villagers were related to him in
some way and he had lost them all in one fell swoop. Where would he go? Who would he have to share his life with? It was too terrible to contemplate.
The blizzard appeared to have eased overnight but Bladefoot still made sure he was well protected from the cold as he donned an extra layer of furs under his coat and another pair of woollen socks before pulling on his boots. He was facing a five-hour walk to reach the Ice Queen's palace. Having had a full breakfast of mutton and potatoes together with a tankard of schnapps to warm his soul, he was well prepared for the journey. He took one more look at his family to steel himself for the long trek before opening the door and walking out into the blizzard.
This time, instead of snow shoes, he wore skis and used poles to push himself forward. It would speed up his progress as he would be able to ski down slopes. Once again he pushed on doggedly, placing one ski after the other. Despite his weariness, the thought that he must get help as soon as possible kept him going.
Two hours into his journey he was crossing a flat area when he was confronted by a huge polar bear. It suddenly sprang up from a snow drift where it had been waiting in ambush. Its pure white fur had blended with the snow and prevented Bladefoot from seeing it. Snow Trolls were terrified of polar bears. Many a troll had been attacked and eaten by them. What made the situation worse was the fact that polar bears were considered by trolls to be sacred, containing the spirits of their ancestors, and therefore could not be killed. Although Bladefoot could possibly win a battle with the bear, his only real hope of survival was escape.
The bear stood up on its hind legs, held out its front paws and growled. There was no doubt about its intention. Saliva dripped from its open mouth and its vicious teeth were bared. In an instant it lunged forward and sprinted across the snow towards Bladefoot. Fortunately a deep snowdrift slowed its attack and the troll had a chance to move away towards a slope at the end of the flat area. As the bear plunged one leg after the other through the snowdrift, Bladefoot pushed on his ski poles as fast as he could. The bear was gaining on him as he reached the slope and it made one final leap as Bladefoot tipped his skis over the edge and sped downhill. He felt a giant paw whistle past his head and then he was away to safety. The animal watched the troll disappear down the slope and realised that pursuit was hopeless. It lumbered away through the snow to find other prey.
With the adrenalin from his close encounter racing through his body, Bladefoot made good time
completing the remainder of his journey. At last the Ice Queen's palace came into view, sitting on the top of a mountain. The Snow Troll gave a sigh of relief and, even though every muscle in his body was aching, pushed himself over the last kilometre and up the mountain path to the gates of the palace.
Once again he marvelled at the size of the queen's residence and the fact that it was made completely out of ice. A troll guard, holding a long spear, approached him as he unstrapped his skis.
“Bladefoot,” he said with a smile. “What are you doing here?”
The Snow Troll replied, “Something terrible has happened in my village. I need to speak to the Ice Queen.”
The guard frowned. “It must be serious for you to venture out in this weather. Come inside. I'll let our queen know that you're here.”
Bladefoot followed the guard through the gates and into the Ice Palace's courtyard. He waited at the bottom of the steps leading up to the doors of the palace while the guard disappeared inside. At last the guard reappeared and signalled for Bladefoot to follow him. The Snow Troll climbed the steps and placed his skis and poles outside before entering the palace.
He walked into a chamber with walls of ice that stretched up to a domed roof. These walls were amazing; frozen into them were the treasures of the Ice Queen's realm, a complete history of Frizland in manuscripts, artefacts, statues of heroes and heroines, plans of battles won and lost and, finally a statue of the Ice Queen herself. She was an imposing figure, tall and beautiful, dressed in her royal robes and wearing the bejewelled crown of ice-like silver. In one hand was a copy of the Silver Sceptre, the symbol of her power.
As Bladefoot stood in awe of his surroundings, staring up at the frozen display, he heard a soft cough and looked across to see the Ice Queen herself standing in the doorway of a room leading out of the entrance chamber.
“Welcome, Bladefoot,” she said in greeting. “I understand that you have a problem you wish to discuss. Come, join me in my resting room and let me know how I can help one of my very bravest and most loyal servants.” She waved him through the door.
Chapter 3
&n
bsp; The Ice Queen's Shaman
Bladefoot and Atalai entered another room made of ice. The Snow Troll felt like he was inside a glacier. However, the temperature in the room was quite pleasant and, as he took off his heavy outer coat, he wondered how the ice that made up the palace was prevented from melting. Atalai was dressed simply in a flowing silver dress and open sandals. She wore the silver tiara on her head and she had on an array of silver pendants, rings and bracelets. As soon as they were seated Bladefoot explained what he had found on his return to his village. Tears welled up as he described the scene in his own house.
“Well,” said Atalai with a deep sigh when the Snow Troll had finished, “that is terrible news. Obviously someone with powerful magical powers has wanted to hurt the Snow Trolls badly. But who could that be? Can you recall anything that the villagers may have done to bring on this tragedy?”
“No,” replied Bladefoot. “I have searched my mind over and over but I can't think of anything we might have done to offend anybody. We are peaceful trolls. Certainly in the past we, along with other trolls, have fought fiercely to defend our homeland but there hasn't been a battle for over a century. Surely past grievances would be forgotten by now.”
“M-m-m,” murmured Atalai thoughtfully. “That is probably true but you never know. Perhaps our best plan is to find out who has the ability to perform such powerful magic.” She reached over to a side table and rang a small bell. “It's time to talk to an expert.”
A guard trotted into the room and, lowering his head, bowed on one knee.
“Please ask Rashi to join us,” Atalai instructed the guard, who immediately hurried off to find the Queen's Troll Shaman.
Several minutes later Rashi entered the room. He was slightly larger than an ordinary troll and wore a white cape over black clothes with a white beret on his head. He bowed to the Ice Queen and asked how he could help her.
Atalai repeated what Bladefoot had told her and finished by asking her Troll Shaman, “What do you think has happened in the village and who do you think has the ability to cast such a powerful spell?”
Rashi appeared thoughtful for several moments and then replied, “As to who could cast such a spell, I have no idea. It is certainly out of the range of all of the Troll Shamans I know, but then . . .
it's possible that one of them has discovered this new method. The one thing I am sure of is that this is no ordinary spell and that it would only have been cast to cause the most grief and satisfy the greatest need of revenge for some perceived injury in the past. If we can discover what it was that these villagers did to cause the action we will have the one responsible. However . . . that brings up another problem. Nobody here has power equal to or better than what this person has shown us to be capable of. How will we control this person and prevent further spells? We will need to find somebody whose powers of magic are stronger than any other and there is only one person who can do that.”
“Maximilian?” questioned Atalai.
“Yes,” replied Rashi. “He is the only one with the magical power to protect us. But first he will have to help us discover who is behind this attack.”
Bladefoot was confused. Everybody knew that Maximilian and the Ice Queen had fallen out with each other. They had an unpleasant history.
“What needs to be done must be done . . . unfortunately,” sighed Atalai. “Arrange for Maximilian to be contacted as soon as you can, Rashi.”
Chapter 4
Atalai and Maximilian
It had all begun with the War of Tears, more than a hundred and fifty years previously. Before then Atalai and Maximilian had been close friends; it had been the Ice Queen's father who had called on Maximilian to help avoid a vicious and wasteful war. But a disaster had destroyed everything they planned and had led to the bad blood between them.
Atalai was a young woman at the time and her father, King Eldrick, ruled Frizland. A border dispute had broken out with their neighbour, the Darkspear tribe. It centred around a series of geysers that were situated right on the border between the two nations. These geysers were highly prized for the hot water they provided for cooking, washing and bathing, as well as the heating they could supply when their waters were piped to villages. They had been controlled by Frizland in the past but now the poorer nation of Darkspear had captured the geysers for themselves and defied Atalai's father to do anything about it.
Eldrick was not a war-like person and wished to negotiate with the Darkspears so that both countries could share the geysers. For that purpose he contacted Maximilian to help him talk sense
into Dakar the Darkspear leader. When Maximilian arrived in Frizland, Eldrick arranged for them to travel to the border for a meeting with Dakar. However, as their snow-chariot approached the meeting place it had to pass along a road lined with people who had come to witness this great event. Suddenly one of the spectators jumped out of the crowd and onto the snow-chariot. He had a knife which he used to slay Eldrick before escaping back into the crowd. It all happened so quickly that nobody had a chance to react. Maximilian watched in horror.
When the news of Eldrick's death reached the Ice Palace, Atalai was overcome with grief. Her love for her father had no bounds and there was nothing that Maximilian could say or do to ease her gloom even though Atalai admired him greatly. Within days news came back from spies in Darkspear that Dakar had been behind Eldrick's assassination. He had arranged it to ruin the peace talks and give himself an advantage when he attacked a leaderless Frizland. He had seriously underestimated the King's daughter.
Atalai was furious. A hand of friendship had been extended by her father only to be cut off. She could not believe the sheer wickedness of Dakar's plan and she would have revenge! Once again Maximilian attempted to talk to her about the stupidity of war but his counsel was rejected. Atalai was a human tornado that could not be controlled as she headed towards her target, willingly destroying everything in her path.
Her Snow Trolls were called into service and gathered in their thousands near the Ice Palace. Atalai addressed them from the palace walls.
“My loyal servants, Frizland has suffered its greatest loss and humiliation at the hands of Darkspear and its leader, Dakar. Friendship was offered and dismissed in the most heartless manner. Now they will feel our fury as we avenge Eldrick. This war will be known throughout the ages as the War of Tears. Today we fight for our king. Today we fight for Frizland. Victory will be ours.”
A roar came from the crowd as the thousands of Snow Trolls lifted their spears and shields. Maximilian watched from a tower and despaired. He could understand Atalai's grief but he could not condone open warfare and decided to try once more to convince her that a peaceful solution could be found.
They met as Atalai was on her way to plan the battle with her generals.
“Could I have a word with you please, Atalai?” Maximilian requested.
“ I'm sorry, Maximilian,” replied Atalai, aware of what was coming, “but I have to speak with my generals and I don't have the time to haggle with you.”
“But . . .,” began Maximilian.
“There are no 'buts',” shouted the Ice Queen, turning red in the face. “You haven't lost anything and I have lost my father, the person I loved and respected most, to a scheming scoundrel. Don't waste your breath trying to save him. If you continue to defend him you are a traitor and I will treat you as one.”
Maximilian was shocked at the fierceness of her attack. “Atalai,” he pleaded, “I am not defending Dakar but think of the innocent people who will suffer because of the act of one man. Surely there are other ways to settle your differences.”
Atalai reacted even more violently. “Differences? You are a weakling,” she screamed. “I want no more to do with you. I once thought that you were my friend. Now I see that I was wrong. You can join Dakar if you wish, but nothing will stop me destroying him – not you, not anybody.”
“I would never do anything to hurt you,” declared Maximilian recognising that Atala
i was out of her mind with grief and had lost all sense of reason. “I just . . .”
“Enough,” Atalai yelled. “Go home where you belong. I don't want to see you ever again.” With that she stormed off to meet her generals.
Maximilian was forced to leave the people of Frizland and Darkspear to their fates. He returned home that same morning.
Chapter 5
The War Of Tears
Dakar knew nothing of Atalai's preparations. He assumed that Frizland would be in a state of confusion after the assassination of Eldrik and planned an early assault on the Ice Palace. Once that had been captured he would be in control of the whole country. He had assembled his troops, made up of his own warriors and cavalry plus a battalion of Giant Cave Trolls, on the border.
Two days after the assassination Dakar led his army across the border. Initially there was a vast plain to traverse before climbing into the mountains that contained the Ice Palace. They had just reached the edge of the mountains when they received an unpleasant surprise. Suddenly the ridges above them were filled with Atalai's archers; a thousand bowmen looked down on them while the infantry, cavalry and Snow Trolls remained hidden in ravines leading out onto the plain.
Dakar's troops were thrown into confusion as clouds of arrows rained down on them. Their horses bolted in all directions and the warriors and Trolls dropped to the ground, covering themselves with their shields. Dakar tried to rally his men but they were in complete disarray. As soon as Atalai's archers had created panic, her infantry, cavalry and Snow Trolls stormed out of the ravines. The battle was short and brutal. Even though the Giant Cave Trolls were superior in size, they did not have the heart of the Snow Trolls and were quickly driven into retreat by the ferocity of their smaller enemies. The same occurred with the infantry and cavalry. The element of surprise used by Atalai made their task an easy one and within the hour victory was theirs. Dakar and his troops had turned tail and raced back over the border.
