by Paul Sobol
“Wouldn’t that mean it had covered everything?”
“Well,” Athenais paused as if to formulate his response, but a strange look passed over his face as if he just remembered something of great importance. “I didn’t send it out to record everything…I sent it out to find any sign of the Keep. Which means…”
“It could have found it!” Silver finished the sentence with triumph.
Athenais motioned everyone to one side of the room as he replaced the orb back to its resting place on the pedestal. On the far wall an image appeared. They saw the land below as if from a bird’s perspective, and as the orb flew its course they too were taken along.
In a rather methodical fashion the orb flew in an ever-expanding circle around the Black Hills. Each sweep revealed new vistas, and just like before they witnessed herds of animals moving about. Some seemed familiar, but too often there were creatures that were terrifying to behold. At one point it looked like a pack of giant wolves were being chased by several equally large creatures that seemed to be nothing but skeletal remains.
“Lich-fiends,” said Athenais quietly as they watched the skeletons overtake the wolves, ripping into flesh and bone with razor-sharp teeth and claws. “They’re 'undead' denizens brought back to life, but for what purpose I do not know. Maybe they were pets or guardians once, but now they roam the wastelands in packs seeking to destroy all life.”
The pictures blurred as the recorded images were sped up artificially by Athenais, occasionally stopping to check the orbs progress in its search for the Ice Keep. The landscape changed so often it was impossible to tell where the orb was in relation to the Black Hills, but the old magician manipulating the orbs recordings seemed unfazed by the constant changes until the others wondered if he had some other system of knowing the orbs location. Certainly there were no markings or writing on the images themselves so perhaps the information was stored elsewhere.
For several more minutes they stood staring at the images on the wall when suddenly it stopped. The picture zoomed and focused onto something in the distance, a giant edifice sticking straight up out of the frozen landscape, and as the orb approached they recognised more details of what appeared to be a circular fortress.
The massive structure was made of a dark blue stone, standing atop a tor which offered a naturally defensible position and excellent views of the surrounding snowy plains in every direction. Several towers of the same dark stone stood guard around the central Keep, flat roofed and equipped with ballistae, mangonels or trebuchets.
As the orb flew by they made out a single road winding precariously around the finger of rock, barely wide enough to fit two passing cars. At the top of the tor was a solitary entrance into the Keep, featuring a heavily fortified barbican fitted with metal-plated portcullis and a sturdy inner door of iron-plated wood. Any army trying to attack up the winding road would be decimated before even reaching the outer gate. Clearly this Keep was designed to withstand any form of assault.
Finishing its outward sweep the orb began its journey home and the picture disappeared. “So how do we find the Keep’s location?” Silver asked.
Athenais fiddled with the pedestal and orb a bit and the last picture of the Keep appeared on the wall. With eyes closed he muttered a short incantation while holding the orb. Motioning with his other hand the image changed to a much higher aerial view, and from this vantage point they could clearly make out the Black Hills and in what direction they had to travel to reach their intended destination.
“We’re so close, we could reach that in a few hours,” said Winter.
“Yes I suppose we could,” Athenais answered, “however, we need to be careful not to draw the attention of the drakes. Last time I was here there was a particularly large nest nearby in one of the semi-dormant volcanoes.”
“This doesn’t seem like the kind of place drakes would choose to dwell. The climate is just not right for them,” Winter queried.
“True, they are not indigenous to this region. Perhaps, similar to the lich-fiends, they were brought here or bred for a purpose. If they could be tamed, drakes would certainly provide a huge advantage for travelling quickly across the wasteland.”
“Let’s get going, we’ll deal with any potential threat if it appears. The quicker we get to the Keep the sooner we find the Water of Life and save Alex.” Silver began making his way out of the cave.
Outside it had begun to snow. The others joined Silver and once again they were magically lifted into the air by Winter’s spell and set off in an Easterly direction towards the Keep.
Low lying clouds and the persistent snowfall obscured all vision and Winter was forced to fly lower. Several times they narrowly missed snow-capped mountaintops, but all agreed it was still better than travelling over land as the conditions on the ground were impossible to navigate over.
Coming out of a particularly heavy patch of cloud something large and white hit the side of the bubble. At first fearing they had inadvertently flown into the side of a mountain they were proven wrong when the bubble was rammed from the other side. Flung around, Winter was barely able to control the flying spell. The others looked about trying to identify the source of the mysterious attacks, when from behind came a loud piercing shriek.
Looking back they could make out the sinuous, snake-like form of an adult drake, but different. Cousin to the dragon, drakes were smaller and of limited intelligence. They also possessed none of the magical traits associated with their mightier kin, much like comparing humans to elves.
“Impossible!” Exclaimed Athenais, “I thought drakes were meant to be red.”
The white and blue drake sped after them, ducking and weaving through the clouds effortlessly. Coming at them from another angle, taloned claws extended, another drake crashed into the shield. It seemed confused for a moment before disappearing into another cloud. They could hear its shriek nearby and wondered if it were alone or calling for assistance. Unfortunately it was soon proven to be the latter.
Several of the drakes now followed the group; their sinuous bodies covered in blue or white scales which reflected the light and made them harder to see against the cloudy background. The five magicians inside the bubble could do nothing in retaliation as the shield which protected them from outside attack also prevented them from counter-attacking.
“We have to lose them somehow,” Athenais shouted as two drakes collided with the shield. The occupants were tossed around like flakes in a snow-globe, and the shield flickered briefly as Winter lost her concentration. Annoyed, she muttered a quick spell and those inside the bubble found themselves weightless. Having removed the gravity the occupants were no longer tossed about randomly whenever the drakes thumped into the shield wall.
Several of the drakes shrieked in defeat as they were unable to get at the potential meal. As one peeled off in search of easier prey more drakes eventually followed, and soon the flying magicians were alone. “Well, that was easier than expected.”
“In my days,” Athenais began, “drakes would never have given up. They may be stupid but they’re also very tenacious. Eventually we would have had to land to fight them off. But what I don’t understand is how they can survive in this cold. Drakes are cold blooded and require heat to live.”
“Maybe they adapted to the climate?” said Winter.
“That is the most likely explanation. I suppose, in the four hundred years or so, the time passed down here would be almost fivefold. Two thousand years is a long time, and certainly they could have adapted to the hostile environment. Look, we are almost there!”
The mountainous ranges suddenly gave way to low rolling steppes lightly covered with snow. Small stunted trees and low bushes dotted the landscape until the terrain turned into solid ice. They were now flying over what once might have been a huge lake, but with the cold temperature the water is frozen perpetually.
The Ice Keep was now within viewing distance, and as the group approached they could only marvel at its size. The to
r upon which it was built was several hundred feet above the ice. The Keep walls stood another fifty feet with the highest minarets of the central tower easily double that. No banners or pennants flew, no smoke issued from any chimney which all lent the castle the appearance of being deserted.
Drawing closer to the Ice Keep the bubble suddenly disappeared. Caught completely by surprise, the five magicians plummeted to the ice a hundred feet below. In a matter of moments each frantically began casting spells. Silver, Archer and Athenais began to slow down as their spells took effect, while Winter had chosen to recast the protective bubble and was no longer falling. Only Father Benedict was having difficulty, but before hitting the ground he was saved by Athenais who glided down next to the old priest. Shortly they were all standing on the frozen lake wondering what had happened. “Winter?”
“It wasn’t me,” she replied.
“Perhaps some kind of magical defence?” Archer asked.
“More than likely,” said Athenais, “it would make sense for something like the Keep to be protected in such a manner.”
“We continue by foot then.”
“Yes, that might be best.”
“Silver,” Archer said quietly as she pulled him aside, “how much time do we have left?”
For a moment he stood there considering his response. “My best guess would be two days remaining, maybe just a little over.”
“Let’s hope if anyone is at the Keep they will prove hospitable.”
Silver didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to. He had thought the exact same thing.
Chapter Twenty One
Crossing the frozen lake they were occasionally stopped by short, yet strong, bursts of snow coming down from the surrounding mountains. Flurries of snow made the going slow and several times they had to stop and rest. At one point they made a brief camp in the shelter of a particularly large snowdrift, and thankful for the respite from the chilling winds and blinding snow they were able to recover some of their strength. Running low on water a small fire was created and snow melted to refill the empty canteens.
Silver was about to suggest they break camp soon when he sensed something nearby. His magical senses warned him something was wrong, and as he stood up he saw something white detach itself from the snow. Fearing the drakes had returned he was about to warn the others when several small arrows thunked into the ice around his feet. An ululating cry from several sources around the camp told the five magicians they were surrounded; the arrows being a blatant warning.
The white figures that appeared out of the snow were fairly tall and thin. Covered from head to toe in white clothing they were completely invisible against the snowy backdrop, even their eyes were shielded by a white material that somehow allowed them to see despite the snow. Each carried a short bow and quiver of the small arrows, and from cleverly concealed sheaths they produced long curved blades.
“Putta! Gotii ile hilya ame gurtha!”
“He said we must go with them. We are now their prisoners,” Archer translated, despite several bows and arrows now pointed at her as she spoke.
“Numa templa ame ndenin!”
“We are not to use any magic, or they will kill us.”
“Aut!”
The five magicians were herded together and white leather cords secured their hands while cloths placed over their mouths as gags. To their dismay, the cords, stitched with unknown arcane symbols, effectively severed the mages psychic link to their power. Like a chain-gang they were attached to the person in front, giving no choice but to be led towards the Ice Keep as prisoners.
No longer protected by magic the captured magicians found it hard going over the ice, and were often handled roughly whenever they slipped or fell over. Their captors remained silent while all the time scanning the horizon, and although they were not very far from the keep they seemed extremely wary and alert for imminent danger.
Given their proximity to the mountains, Silver thought they were watching out for drakes. As a small band travelling alone they would be an easy target for the flying monsters who were easily camouflaged by low lying clouds. The bows carried by their white-cloaked captors looked capable enough, but against the heavily scaled drakes he wasn’t so optimistic.
It occurred to Silver, even if the drakes were the main cause for concern, why weren’t their captors scanning the clouds above? The threat then must be on land. He then recalled the orbs images of giant wolves, but more worrying were the skeletal creatures which had given chase. The lich-fiends, with their sharp talons, would be able to manoeuvre across the ice unhindered. He now understood their need for haste in reaching the safety of the Keep.
Realising they were possibly in grave peril, Silver grew even more concerned that the weapons carried by their captors might not be sufficient to deal with the 'undead' creatures. He didn’t even know if magic would be able to stop them, but trussed up like animals they weren’t likely to test the theory. At least, he thought bitterly, with access to their magic they had a chance of escaping or slowing down the creatures.
A shout from one of the rear guards drew everyone’s attention behind. Far away on the horizon, beneath the steppes of the mountains, several dark figures approached across the frozen lake. Indistinct at first, looking like dark smudges upon the ice, it took the group several moments to positively identify the shapes.
Lich-fiends.
The skeletal forms clawed their way over the ice and sped towards their prey with supernatural agility. Everyone in the group, captors and captives alike, began running for the Keep. But judging from the distance they were still a good half hour trek away from reaching the tor with perhaps another quarter to reach the gates.
Sneaking quick glances backwards it was impossible to tell how fast the lich-fiends were travelling, but it didn’t look good for the larger slower party. Silver tried speaking through his gag to the nearest guard but was ignored. The others tried the same but without success.
Their headlong dash towards safety was taking a toll on them all, and it soon became apparent to the guards the entire party was slowing down. Faced with the decision to stand and fight, or leave the captives behind to their doom, the white robed guards chose the former.
After a hasty discussion with his fellow guards, the one who had spoken earlier indicated they should take up a defensive position, but unfortunately there were no snowdrifts nearby thus leaving them completely exposed on the barren ice field.
Sensing their prey had stopped, the fast-approaching 'undead' closed in for the kill. The sound of their claws chewing through the ice could now be heard, and in a few minutes they would be within bow range. The tall guards seemed unfazed at the approaching pack, and with precise movements each unslung their bow and notched an arrow. For what seemed ages the guards stood there, immobile, watching, waiting. A single word from the leader and a dozen arrows sped off into the distance.
At first it looked like the arrows would fall short of their targets, but the guards did not bother to fire any more. As the first volley of arrows hit the ice it became apparent why. The ice in front of the approaching 'undead' suddenly erupted upwards as each arrow exploded with impressive force. The front rank of lich-fiends were torn apart by flying shards of ice, and those behind could not stop the forward charge on such a slippery surface.
Tumbling over their shattered brethren, the remaining lich-fiends slid into the gaping holes created by the detonated arrows. Within moments the entire pack, as well as the remaining scraps of the blasted, disappeared into the dark depths of the freezing lake. Even if they could swim the surface was already sealing over with newly-formed ice.
Without a word the white-robed captors gathered their prize and resumed the arduous walk to the lone finger of stone thrusting out of the ice. The trek up to the Keep was just as difficult; semi-frozen mud pitted with small stones made the going slippery and treacherous, and as the path narrowed it became difficult to navigate with speed.
Higher they went and each tur
n revealed a new vista. From the far-reaching banks of the frozen lake to the highest snow-capped peaks they could see perfectly clear from this vantage point anyone or anything approaching.
Reaching the barbican the captives could only marvel at the sheer size of the gatehouse. At least two dozen feet wide and fifty feet high the heavy portcullis was suspended above on huge linked chains thicker than a man’s wrist. An iron-banded wooden door stood open to receive the small party and as they passed through a yell from above signalled the door to be closed. Nearby a whip cracked and the portcullis slowly lowered as several horses in harnesses pulled on a rope and pulley system which drove the closing mechanism.
The heavy wooden door boomed shut and the group led up a tall flight of stairs. They were soon ushered onto the rampart above the gatehouse, and between the stone crenels could be seen the vastness of the frozen lake and mountain ranges further in the distance.
On the battlements two men quietly talked. They were dressed much like medieval knights would; in gambeson and chainmail, wearing swords on leather baldrics slung from the shoulder. The magicians, despite being cut off from their powers, could clearly feel a strong magical presence about the two soldiers; however, it was from their armour and weapons that the power exuded.
The guards stood back as the captives were ushered forward and presented to the soldiers on the wall. The older of the two appeared to be in his late forties and sported a close-cropped beard and shoulder length dark hair dusted with grey. The soldier by his side was almost an exact copy but younger, suggesting they were father and son. Turning towards the newcomers the two soldiers appeared less than pleased by the intrusion. “You may not realise the danger you have put us in, I hope it was worth it.”
Holding up a leather-gloved hand to forestall a response the older man continued. “The Z’gal do not usually cross the open plain without good reason, and because of the counter-measures we took we may have invited unnecessary trouble. Now, before I have you thrown over the wall explain who you are and what is your purpose?”
