by Ellen Porath
They were in a dungeon, but it was unlike any dungeon that Kitiara had ever seen. This prison was built solely of ice, huge slabs of it. The walls extended, unbroken, hundreds of feet upward.
Around the periphery of the dungeon, hanging from the walls by no visible means, dangled a dozen corpses in various stages of decay. Kitiara heard Lida retch. The swordswoman recognized the clothing of the corpses—the white parkas of the Ice Folk. She looked back up at Janusz.
“The ice jewels originated in the Icereach,” the withered mage said quietly. “I’m sure of it. As certain as I am that the Ice Folk know where to mine the stones.” He gestured toward the decaying warriors. “So end the lives of those who refuse to yield the information I want. A point you might want to keep in mind, Captain.”
The walls of the dungeon were slick, as though they’d been melted and refrozen, Kitiara thought. The floor, on the other hand, was covered with something that looked like thick canvas. There was no other padding, yet she and Lida had landed unhurt. Lida seemed hypnotized by the sight of the corpses. Her face was an ashy blue in the cool light that filtered from the walls.
Now the swordswoman leaned over and brushed snow from her leggings and parka. She was finally warm enough for a change, despite the ice walls that stretched upward as far as she could see. Kitiara moved toward the nearest corpse and extended a hand up toward the dead man.
“What holds them in place, do you think?” she whispered to Lida. “What—”
“Don’t touch it!” Lida called out. She thrust out a hand, too late and too far away to arrest the swordswoman’s movement.
Kitiara had rested her fingertips against the ice wall. It was cold, but not too …
Then she frowned and tugged.
The fingertips of her right hand were frozen fast to the wall. Behind and above her, she heard Janusz erupt into laughter.
Lida was at her side in an instant. “Don’t touch the wall with your other hand,” she warned as she examined Kitiara’s fingers. “Does it hurt?”
Kitiara shook her head. “What is this stuff?”
“Ice,” Lida replied irritably. “Didn’t you ever touch your tongue against frozen metal in the winter? The same principle is at work here. Anyway, I warned you. Don’t you ever listen to anyone but Kitiara Uth Matar?”
The upstart! “I’m not going to stand around and be insulted by the likes of you,” Kitiara snapped.
“No?” Lida asked. “And where are you going, Captain Uth Matar?” Faint steam curled from the frozen wall.
Kitiara glared at Lida. Then the swordswoman turned back toward the wall, wrapped her left hand around her right wrist and tugged. “I need some sort of dagger. I’ll cut myself free.”
She felt in her pocket for the sharp piece of rock she’d palmed in the wolf sledge. The angle at which she was forced to stand was difficult, but Kitiara began to chip clumsily at the ice around her trapped fingers with her left hand. The stuff seemed invulnerable. Janusz laughed again. Then the ancient mage stopped and barked a few words to Lida in another language. It sounded like Old Kernish. Kitiara had occasionally heard the Valdane’s servants speak in that tongue when they didn’t want the foreign mercenaries to understand them.
Lida looked wordlessly at her former tutor, who had not yet guessed her true identity. Then she turned to Kitiara. “Let me.”
There was no doubt that Lida would be able to work better with two hands than Kitiara could with one. Kitiara handed over the sliver of rock.
“Close your eyes,” Lida said. Kitiara, marveling at her sudden tractability, followed the orders of the lady mage.
Lida moved closer to Kitiara, speaking softly. She seemed to be offering entreaties to someone—some god. Kitiara heard rustling and knew that Lida was fishing in a pocket of her robe. A faint puff of warm air brushed against Kitiara’s left cheek, contrasting with the cold that flowed from the wall. She felt something hard tap at each finger, but she didn’t open her eyes.
Kitiara pulled on her hand, and the ice beneath her fingers moved. It was as though the ice had melted and refrozen in a heartbeat. But her fingers were still fastened to the wall.
“I thought your magic was impaired,” Kit whispered.
“Janusz has released me,” Lida replied in her normal voice. “He says I am no threat here, even with my normal powers.” She swallowed, then took a deep breath and continued. “Stay still. When you feel the ice quiver, pull back suddenly. Make sure you don’t touch the ice with your other hand, or with any bare skin. I think this will work. I’ve never done it before.”
Lida whispered fresh words of magic.
Kitiara’s eyes flew open. “You think …?”
“Pull!”
Kitiara pulled. There was a brief jolt of pain. Then her hand was free. She looked at the wall. Five dimples showed in the ice. As she stared, the wetness turned again to ice. She examined her hand. Her fingertips were pale and blue but unharmed. “Nice work,” Kit said grudgingly.
“Indeed,” Janusz commented from above. “A minor trick suitable for a carnival sideshow. I could show you so much more, Lida.”
Kitiara swung toward Lida. “That’s what he asked you back at the minotaur camp, wasn’t it?” Kitiara asked. “While I was gone. He asked you to join him. And you refused, didn’t you?”
“I’m no traitor,” Lida snapped. “I do not cooperate with the enemy.”
Suddenly Janusz was shoved to one side, and a new face, distorted with anger, protruded into the open space above them.
“Kitiara Uth Matar!” the Valdane thundered. His red hair stood up from his head like a crown. Lida’s face convulsed, and she took an involuntary step backward.
“What are you afraid of, mage?” Kitiara asked Lida in a piercing whisper. “At the very worst, you’ll end up the consort of a powerful wizard. You’re not the one in real danger.” Kitiara addressed her next words at the Valdane. “Are you so weak that you must hide behind the skirts of your mage, Valdane?”
The Valdane seemed to gain resolve at her taunt. “You make it so easy to hate you, Captain. Yet I brought you here for a specific reason.”
“To regain the lost ice jewels,” Kitiara rejoined. “I do not have them …”
“Kill her,” the Valdane snapped to Janusz.
“… but I know where they are.”
Smiling, Kit locked gazes with the Valdane. Slowly, almost unwillingly, the ruler also cracked a smile. Cruelty gleamed in his stare, stubbornness in hers. “I know you well enough, Kitiara Uth Matar, to know that you will not respond to the best torture we have to offer. That’s what made you such an outstanding mercenary.”
“Whose error caused Dreena’s death,” the Valdane’s mage injected hastily, but the ruler ignored him.
“Perhaps, Captain, we can negotiate a compromise,” the leader said. “I can offer you almost limitless power.”
“As soon as you have the ice jewels, you’ll kill me,” Kitiara said.
“We could torture your friend here, my daughter’s former servant. Perhaps that would sway you.”
Kitiara cast a cool look toward the younger mage. “We are not friends.” Kitiara replied. “Do what you will with her.”
The Valdane laughed. “Then how about torturing a few of your lovers? My mage tells me two of them already head south, accompanied by a black stallion and a giant owl. Is not one of the men the father of your child? Certainly that must mean something, even to you.”
Lida spoke. “You were able to scry them? And the giant owl is with them?” She seemed near tears.
Janusz nodded. “Unfortunately for you, Kitiara and Caven left things of theirs when they fled from the Valdane’s camp. That gave me the personal artifact I needed to scry them. I know more about your life in the past few months than you may think, Captain.”
Kitiara thought fast. Clearly the mage believed she had hidden the ice jewels. That information gave her some leverage—for the time being. She needed time to scheme. And she needed reinforcemen
ts. If only she had hidden the ice jewels. As it stood now, they were either lying forgotten in the clearing in Darken Wood or Tanis and Caven were unwittingly delivering them to the Valdane’s stronghold.
“My friends and I are working together. They carry valuable information about the ice jewels,” she said smoothly. “You must allow them to arrive here safely if we are to strike a deal, Valdane.”
The leader fastened his piercing gaze on her. “Perhaps,” he said at last. “After all, if you are lying, I can always kill them later. And you, too. At the very least, a week or two in my dungeon may change your tune, Captain.”
With that, he was gone. Kitiara heard two pairs of footsteps resounding down some upper corridor.
Chapter 16
The Dust Plains
“XANTHAR, WHERE ARE WE?” WHEN THE GIANT bird didn’t respond, Tanis leaned over the front of the owl’s wing and shouted his question.
The owl drew up with a start. He blinked in the dazzling sunlight. The feathers around Xanthar’s eyes were sticky with rheum. His night-seeing eyes hadn’t stopped watering in the week they’d been flying south.
The two had long since left the Kharolis Mountains behind. They’d entered the vast wasteland, great expanses of nothing but bare rock, the day before. But now, far beneath the owl and half-elf, wheat-colored sand glittered in the harsh sunlight, appearing to undulate in the heat. The wind never seemed to let up. Pillars of swirling dust occasionally rose upward, then collapsed under their own weight.
We are …
Tanis waited, but the bird didn’t go on. “Where are we?” he finally shouted again.
South. Far south. The Plains of Dust, west of Tarsis, or maybe southwest of Tarsis. I don’t know exactly, Kai-lid.
“I am Tanis.”
Ah. Of course. Tanthalas. The half-elf.
Tanis let his gaze wander over the terrain. Sand and dust stretched far ahead.
“What did this wasteland used to be?” Tanis persisted.
An ocean, I believe—until the Cataclysm changed the face of the world. When the gods punished Krynn, some portions of Ansalon were flooded. Here the sea drained, leaving only sand and grit. Or so said my grandfather.
And where was Caven? At first the half-elf had caught occasional glimpses of the horseman, who seemed to be driving Maleficent as hard as Xanthar was pushing himself. But Tanis had not spied Caven Mackid in two days.
Tanis had lost his nervousness after soaring miles above the ground, attached to the giant owl only by the jury-rigged leather harness. Xanthar was a steady flier. Since leaving Darken Wood, the owl had allowed only short respites, in which the half-elf cooked small game, replenished his water supply, and relieved himself. Tanis could sleep on Xanthar’s back as he flew, but as far as the half-elf could tell, the giant owl napped only during his brief time on the ground.
Kai-lid.
“This is Tanis,” the half-elf repeated.
The owl shook his head dazedly. He opened his eyes to their fullest, and Tanis could see, when Xanthar turned his head, that the owl’s irises had dulled to a flat terra-cotta color and that the pupils no longer reacted to variations in light and shadow.
“Xanthar, how are your eyes?”
Sometimes the light grows dim. It passes, however. I am not accustomed to such bright daylight. Another drop of thick yellow liquid oozed from the bird’s eye.
“We should stop for a while to let you rest.”
No.
“We should let Caven catch up.”
Caven will find his way. My kin escorted him to the southernmost edge of Darken Wood. Beyond that, he knows how to navigate by stars and sun. He knows to head due south, as much as these shifting sands will let him.
“Can you send your thoughts to him?”
He is too far away, and untrained in telepathy. I cannot even reach Kai-lid, and she was well tutored—by a master.
“Do you think she and Kitiara are all right?” The owl didn’t answer, but all his muscles tensed. “Xanthar?”
To the left. Do you see something? I sense a change, but I cannot see that far.
Tanis gazed in that direction. “It’s only a small cloud, Xanthar.”
No. More than that.
“What, then? Magic?”
No magic. A storm. We must find shelter.
“But …” The half-elf’s words died as Xanthar, without warning, tucked his wings to his sides and arrowed toward the earth.
You must be my eyes now, half-elf. Tanis felt himself slip backward on the plummeting owl. When he reached the limit of the harness, his head snapped back with the force of the dive. The ground was rushing toward them at dizzying speed. “Xanthar! Pull up!” Immediately the giant owl leveled out, mere feet above the ground, and zigzagged over the terrain.
Watch for shelter.
With nearness came detail. This portion of the plain, seen up close, was a warren of sand and rocky juttings of fire-colored sandstone pocked with animal dens. The dens were too small to accommodate a half-elf and an owl nearly twice his size, however.
Keep looking.
Tanis no longer protested the wisdom of the bird’s actions; the small cloud was burgeoning into a blanket of dark blue and pea green. Lightning crackled as the cloud sped toward them. Below the bank hung a curtain of swirling, vanilla-colored grit. Tanis dug a rag out of the packs on the bird’s back and tied it over his mouth and nose. The first blast of grit hit them from the side. The grains stung like needles. Xanthar battled to keep flying. More than once, the tips of his wings brushed the ground, sending the half-elf sprawling first one way and then the other. Tanis squinted through the blowing dirt. Tears poured down his cheeks. Xanthar’s eyes were shut tight, but he kept barreling through the air.
“There!” The half-elf lunged forward with both hands, grabbed the sides of the bird’s head, and pointed toward a cave, now gone from view, now visible as a shadow through the driving sandstorm, now gone again. “Look!”
Where? I don’t see …
The cave loomed again right before them. Tanis flung himself down into the feathers on the bird’s back and shut his eyes. He sensed the bird pass from the blinding sandstorm into cool, silent darkness. The bird skidded to a crashing stop against a wall. Tanis released the harness and slid off Xanthar’s back. He looked around him, his elven nightvision probing for signs of warmth. The den appeared to be devoid of all life, save half-elf and owl.
The storm thundered outside for hours. Xanthar paced and fretted. When the owl’s voice came into the half-elf’s mind at last, it was clear why.
I must summon help, Kai-lid. Tanis didn’t bother to correct the owl. I thought my strength would be sufficient, but you were right, Kai-lid. I should not have gone so far away.
“Sufficient?”
The half-elf’s voice seemed to jolt the owl back to reality. Against Kai-lid’s enemies, Tanis. But I am weakening fast. You will need help, and the Kernan will not be enough. Indeed, he may already be lost.
“Kitiara will help. And Lida—Kai-lid.”
What if they are dead?
Tanis leaned toward the owl. He laid a gentle hand on the bird’s wing. “You said you would know if the lady mage was dead.”
I am no longer certain of anything. I may have overestimated my own ability. Humility was never my strength. I fear …
“What?”
Nothing. Everything. I must summon help.
“Who?”
The giant bird didn’t answer. Xanthar’s feet scratched against the sandstone as he waddled away from the half-elf. The bird’s breathing grew stertorous. Tanis felt the tickling in his mind that he’d felt before when the bird was speaking telepathically to Lida but to no one else. Eventually the owl grew quiet, and Tanis realized that Xanthar had fallen asleep. The half-elf pulled his sword from his pack and stayed on guard. Although the den had been unoccupied, there was no telling if some former occupant might return. Tanis opened Kitiara’s pack and forced back the false bottom. The ice jewels
provided a cold violet light, offering some bare comfort.
Finally the storm abated. It was the silence, not Tanis, that awakened the giant owl.
It is over.
“Yes.”
The owl shuffled toward the opening of the den. Sand and dust now spilled down the incline into their hiding place. We must go now.
“What about Caven?”
He knew the expedition would be dangerous. He could have ridden one of my children, but he insisted on staying with his horse. We must continue on. We have lost time.
“Caven may be lost in the plains. I don’t think we should go on without him.”
Xanthar sighed. You have an oddly generous attitude toward your rival for Kitiara’s affections. I suspect it is your elven upbringing; certain this philanthropy does not come from your human side.
It took the two half an hour to dig themselves out of the den. As soon as they swept away some of the dun-colored sand, more spilled in. The sand was a variety of colors: tan, of course, but green and pink and gray as well. In any other circumstances, it would have been beautiful. But now dust and grit filled Tanis’s mouth and nose and clouded his vision. The half-elf and giant owl were hacking and sneezing when they finally scrabbled into daylight.
Caven and his pony may be dead and buried under tons of this stuff, for all we know. We should go on, for Kai-lid’s sake. And Kitiara’s.
Tanis shook his head again. The owl squinted at him. When the bird spoke, he sounded more like the Xanthar of old. An interesting situation. I will be nearly useless to Kai-lid in the Icereach without you, and you cannot travel far without me in this shifting ocean of grit. We could waste long hours, you and I, trying to sort this out. Tanis didn’t drop his gaze. Very well, we will look for the oaf.
The sky was as blue and cloudless as it had been when they’d entered the dusty plains. Tanis climbed on the bird’s back and they set off, retracing their flight from the north. They’d traveled only an hour when Tanis shouted and pointed. On the horizon, looking like a beetle from their altitude, something black crawled at the center of the sea of sand. Within moments, they had landed near the struggling form.
