Plague of Ice dad-7

by T. H. Lain

  There it was. Glistening brighter than any diamond in the pale blue light, the ice-white jewel of the Ilskynarawin, the Frozen Pendant itself. Hennet was struck by how small and insignificant it looked-in the face of this eternity of snow, a tiny chunk of whiteness possessed so much power. It lay where it landed, launched through the rift by Regdar's toss, its golden chain half covered by the snow. It looked different here on this plane that was the source of its power but paradoxically where it was useless. It was larger and shone brighter, making it more visible in the diminished light, and it had transformed from a misshapen lump into a perfect sphere of purest white. It glowed serenely, perfectly untroubled by all that happened. For a moment, Hennet stood, looking at the Frozen Pendant at his feet as if it dared him to pick it up and claim it, and he hesitated to accept the challenge.

  He wondered for a moment if he should call Sonja. She'd know what to do with it. But he could still hear the mephits beating their wings above him, and he knew he didn't dare give away its location. He needed to do this himself.

  Hennet's bones creaked as he bent over, slowly extending his hand to grasp the necklace.

  Before he could reach it, a mephit burst out of the fog above him. With lightning speed it swooped down, snatching the pendant away just before Hennet's hand could close around it. For half an instant it turned to Hennet, smiled, and hissed at him, before setting its wings flapping and vanishing into the air.

  Hennet screamed in frustration, but no sound passed his stiffened lips. He tried to toss his short spear after the mephit, but he couldn't move fast enough to hurl the weapon effectively. It wobbled only a few yards before flopping to the ground. Hennet felt his legs crack and collapse underneath him. He, too, tumbled onto the ground. With great effort he rolled onto his back and lay staring up at the diamond-cold, heartless sky. Here, with whatever time was left to him, he contemplated his failure as the cold soaked into his organs. In short order, he knew, the mephits would return to the Prime and with the coveted Ilskynarawin in their claws they would cement and expand the rift so that pure, unfiltered, elemental ice would spill over into his world. Regdar and Lidda would fight, but the new blast of ice would be more than any humans could endure. Before long Klionne and Atupal would fall and the lands beyond would face a terrible, new threat. All mankind would be in danger. He had failed Sonja utterly.

  There was nothing he could do to stop it.

  He remembered how the tiny crystals of ice melted away from his hand when he first stepped through the rift. Raising his hand, he saw that it no longer happened. The crystals collected on his skin, forming a shell. Even the tiny bit of heat required to melt these specks was beyond his body's ability to generate. What damage a fireball would do here! he mused. But he was too weak; he was dying. He wished momentarily that he still had the fire wand he'd used against the elemental ice scorpion. That would be something to see.

  Hadn't he found something else… not a spell, but a magical flame? Was it a memory or only a wish becoming illusion?

  Numb hands rummaged clumsily through his clothes, searching. When he bumped against the flask in his pocket, the memory came back. Alchemist fire! Regdar had found it on the corpse in the pit. Hennet fished out one of the flasks with great effort looked at it, trying to concentrate. Did he really want to do this? It could kill him… but he was dying anyway.

  It could kill Sonja if she was too close to the blast. She had opposed him using fire magic all along, and she'd been right.

  How could he risk killing the woman he loved now that she was just realizing her potential? He recalled her words about heroism, about the heroes of legend who achieved great things because they left their personal concerns behind them. "They were not people and neither must we be." Was that the foundation of heroism? All his life Hennet had wanted to become a legend. Now he had the opportunity, and no one would survive to spread the tale of his sacrifice.

  With all the strength he could muster, Hennet tossed the flask of alchemist fire. He was surprised at how far his stiffened limbs managed to propel it. The sticky fluid inside the flask would ignite on contact with air. All it needed was to burst open and it would set off a firestorm that just might destroy the rift, or at least kill mephit that had claimed the pendant-if it broke. Hennet lost track of it amid the swirling particles, but the cold alone was sufficient to shatter the fragile glass.

  The plane itself moaned at the flash of unwelcome heat. Hennet shielded his eyes but gloried in the warmth as the blast rolled across him. The explosion was far beyond what a vial of alchemist fire would have caused on the Prime Material Plane, for fire was an alien force here, unknown and unchecked. The ground buckled, and the sky warped under the stress of fantastic heat. The frozen fog vanished altogether, revealing the endless, wan expanse for just a moment before it was concealed again by clouds of steam that roiled upward and outward only to solidify and rain down as solid ice.

  The mephits closest to the blast were instantly vaporized by the waves of fire. These were the fortunate ones. Those farther away screeched in agony as the terrifying flames licked at them and they witnessed their bodies melting into puddles beneath them. Hennet watched a mephit plummet from the sky after its wings melted from its back. It plunged into a steaming pool of boiling water, where it disappeared in a hiss of vapor.

  Hennet could see the rift now, for the slow but steady stream of icy material that oozed through from the Prime had been the same color as the pervasive, frozen fog. The rift looked smaller on this side than on the other. What's more, it appeared weaker. Strain was apparent. He could see how precarious was the balance of forces that maintained the conduit. It shuddered under the weight of the elemental material passing through it. Its designers never expected it to he attacked from this side. Hennet hoped that meant Sonja would have a better chance to dispel it from here.

  The Ilskynarawin, no longer the Frozen Pendant since its golden chain melted in the blast of heat, tumbled from the sky and landed with a splash in the center of the cleared area, which was now covered by a shallow pool of steaming water. Hennet couldn't move his damaged limbs, he could only watch as four surviving mephits swept down from the sky, desperate to recapture the treasure. He groped for another flask of alchemist fire, but his hands, both frozen and burned, could feel nothing. He feared his last gesture might have been in vain.

  He wondered: where was Sonja?

  His heart leaped when he spotted her, wrapped in white, sweeping out of the vapor toward the rift. She plunged across the wet landscape like a pale ghost, little more than a white flash. No sooner did one of the mephits alight near the Ilskynarawin than Sonja was upon it. Her cudgel cracked against the creature's skull with such force that the body shattered. Hennet watched in awe. Reborn by the dragon's ice cocoon, Sonja was the master of these creatures even on their own plane.

  Another mephit caught Sonja with its frigid breath, but she ignored it. The water on the ground was rapidly freezing around the Ilskynarawin. The frozen fog crept in. Sonja cast a wary glance upward before crushing the second mephit with her cudgel.

  That provided enough distraction, however, for another mephit to slip behind her and free the glimmering Ilskynarawin from its icy cage. Taking to the air, it raced urgently to reach the rift ahead of the druid.

  To get through, Sonja knew the mephit would have to swoop low, just as on the other side. If she could get there first, she could stop it, but she couldn't get to the rift first. For an awful moment it looked as if the mephit would make its escape. It flew down, headed straight for the rift.

  With deadly aim, Sonja threw her cudgel. The club struck the mephit in the back, causing it to lose its grip on the Ilskynarawin and propelling it headlong through the rift. It vanished with a tiny flash, and when it didn't sweep back through a second or two later, Sonja silently thanked Regdar and Lidda.

  She pounced onto the artifact as a third mephit swept low above it, blasting her again with its breath. The druid held tightly onto the Ilskynarawin a
nd punched upward. Her fist demolished the mephit's head, and its body tumbled to a heap yards away.

  Moving as casually as if she was in her own garden, Sonja retrieved her weapon. With the deadly cudgel in one hand, the coveted artifact in the other, and the rift silently oozing ice behind her, she offered a challenge to the lone, surviving mephit-if you want it, come take it from me. For half a minute or more the creature hovered, searching the ice druid's eyes for any hint of weakness or wavering of resolve. Finding none, it decided to leave with its life. As it turned away, Sonja leaped after it. Her club smashed down with terrific strength, and the mephit crumbled.

  With her enemies dead, Sonja rushed to Hennet, who stared semiconscious up to the sky as the advancing ice threatened to overtake him. As her face came into his view, beaming with a mixture of victory and concern, the edges of Hennet's mouth curled stiffly into an approximation of a smile.

  "My love," she said softly, kneeling next to him. Keeping the Ilskynarawin close, Sonja expended all of her healing and protection spells in an effort to keep Hennet with her. Then she took him in her arms and carried his limp body to the rift. Along the way, she recovered his short spear and slipped it safely into his robes.

  She did not weep as she looked down on his pale face and kissed his cold forehead. She knew he would live and recover, but she also knew she would never see him again. Fate and nature gave her a different path.

  One more thing remained to do. She ran her hands through Hennet's robes. The cloth cracked and fell away in pieces as she sought her prize-the two remaining flasks of alchemist fire. They were frozen solid, but thawed they might work again. Hennet had proven their power in this place.

  Gently, she pushed the sorcerer's inert form toward the rift. He floated for just a moment before disappearing with a white flash.

  Alone on the blasted expanse of ice, Sonja extended her hand-the one that wore the silver ring from Atupal, with one more dispelling charge. She extended it toward the rift, closed her eyes, and let the magic work.

  It happened more easily than she expected. There was none of the mental battle she'd faced when she tried, vainly, to dispel the rift from the other side. The portal slipped shut as easily as any wooden door, leaving no trace of itself behind. With the rift extinguished, there was no way for Sonja to return. She was trapped.

  Sonja removed the now-useless ring from her finger and cast it away. This was not a perfect solution, she reflected. Much elemental ice remained on the Prime Material Plane. The damage was considerable, and there was no quick, magical fix for it. She knew that in time, nature itself would reverse the harm.

  Around her, the damage caused by Hennet's blast of alchemist fire was all but repaired. She was glad, for this place was nature, too, and it also required protection from radical disruptions. That would be her work from now on. Just as her parents protected the natural order of the Endless Glacier, she would do the same here. All that remained of the flame damage was a slender sinkhole where the water of the melted ice collected, and it was about to freeze over. Into this Sonja dropped the Ilskynarawin and watched the evil artifact sink to untold depths where, she sincerely hoped, no one would ever look for it again.

  Sonja turned and regarded the sunless, summerless mass of her new home. To survive here, she knew she would have to shed all of the civilization she'd picked up in the southlands. Shed it, but not forget it. She would never forget Hennet, Regdar, and Lidda.

  Sonja extended her arms and slowly transformed into a huge black wolf. In this wild form she ran into the mists of the frozen distance.

  Epilogue

  Hennet floated through a disoriented, half-waking state of restless motion, of endless up-and-down movement, cradled and carried. At one point, Hennet was sure that he opened his eyes long enough to see the land still carpeted in implacable snow, and he lamented that they failed. But eventually he felt warmth on his cheek, warmth from Pelor's sun, and he knew that they had won. They were heroes. They had turned hack the tide of ice and saved Klionne, Atupal, and only the gods knew how many cities beyond them.

  But they lost the girl.

  When he awoke, Hennet was wrapped in an envelope of silk with the welcome aromas of incense and wood smoke wafting through the air. He felt soft, lingering pain, but most of all, he felt warm.

  "You're awake," said a familiar, female voice.

  "Lidda," said Hennet, squinting. He lay in an unfamiliar bed, his head resting on a luxurious feather pillow in a cozy, oak-lined room. The halfling sat next to him in a rocking chair that was so grotesquely oversized for her that he couldn't help smiling. A small table stood next to the bed. A good-sized fire kept a steady roar in the hearth in the corner.

  "It's good to have you back," Lidda said.

  "Where is this?" Hennet asked.

  "Atupal. The Berron Inn. You've been sleeping for days."

  "Regdar?

  "He carried you all the way here. When we arrived," Lidda explained, "we had you healed at the shrine of Pelor. The priest said that you were probably a few hours from death."

  "Gods above," Hennet mouthed. He felt stiff and weak but knew he been healed. The frostbite that destroyed his flesh on the Plane of Ice was gone. It was strange, though, that he could still feel the bruise on his cheek where Regdar had punched him. Perhaps it was all in his mind, he thought.

  Hennet pulled himself up in bed and peeked out the window. Some snow still clung to the rooftops of Atupal, hut the summer sun was doing its work.

  "So the cold zone did reach this far," he observed.

  "Yes," said Lidda. "Just. It didn't take much time to get out after we reversed the gate. No monsters to slow us down, just fields on fields of slush. Crops are destroyed, fields in ruin, and the bulk of the ice remains. It will melt, but the region's going to be a mess for a few years."

  "Sonja?" Hennet didn't need to ask what happened to her. He knew.

  "She's still alive," Lidda reminded him. "If any human is equipped to survive on the Plane of Ice, that's Sonja. And I bet she'll do everything she can to return."

  Despite Lidda's comforting words, Hennet's eyes showed little hope.

  "If you feel strong enough," Lidda said, "I can get you something to eat or drink. Regdar's down in the bar. Everybody in the city wants to buy us an ale and hear the stories of our exploits."

  "I'm starving, Lidda. That would be terrific," said Hennet. He rubbed his cheek. The stinging sensation was gone. "And send Regdar up. I'd like to talk to him."

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