by T. H. Lain
"That's not the worst," Sonja said. "I suspect they still have Glaze in reserve. That would explain why the dragon didn't kill us when it had the chance—the mephits needed us."
"But Glaze nearly killed Hennet, and it chased me down when I ran for the tower, while you were unconscious," protested Regdar. "Then again, I didn't understand why I made it. I thought Glaze would overtake me for sure. Could it really have been staged?"
"I don't see why not," Sonja said. "White dragons are trainable."
"My store of spells is nearly exhausted," Hennet admitted. "Between Glaze, the mephits, and our tangles with the verbeeg and this lion thing, I don't know how much magic I can contribute now."
"We heard a mephit before," Lidda reminded them. "It must have unleashed the lion. Where did it go?"
"Through there." Sonja pointed almost exactly above them, to the trapdoor through which Hennet had fallen hours earlier. It was small, but any of them could fit through it.
"Interesting," said Regdar. "They won't expect us to come through there. We could probably pile up enough of this old junk to reach the trapdoor and attack them that way. At least we could get a look at what we're up against."
"Good thought," said Sonja.
Everyone set about collecting the debris for this purpose, scavenging for the more solid desks, tables, and chairs that littered the great hall. Recalling the huge pile of broken wood the mephits froze against the door to the tower they claimed was Glaze's lair, they attempted to prize some of it off but found it solidly resisted their best efforts. Ultimately, they managed to gather a fairly sturdy platform that could support even Regdar's weight. As the tallest of the group, Regdar volunteered to look through the trapdoor. Mounting the platform, he slowly eased the trapdoor open, avoiding the accumulation of snow that fluttered down.
He cautiously craned his neck through the trapdoor and saw the familiar towers of ice, now casting longer shadows as sunset approached. Something felt different about the area above ground, and he couldn't quite identify what it was. Regdar turned in a complete circle and studied the stark, empty city. Neither mephits nor Glaze were in evidence. With an idea in mind, he took a quick look straight up to be sure.
Regdar hopped off the platform and pulled the artifact from his pocket, being careful to hold it only by the chain.
"No one's up there," he announced. "More importantly, I know what happened. I know why the crystal turned white."
Lidda was the first to ask why.
"Before we came down here, the winds were blowing away from the rift, right?" The others nodded furiously.
"Well, now they're blowing inward," Regdar explained. "The wind is blowing madly toward a point in the center of the city, where the rift is."
"Toward it," Hennet repeated. Could it be that his impulsive act had actually saved them, reversing the pendant's effects? "Does that mean that the elemental ice is withdrawing?"
"Regdar," Sonja asked, "did it seem to be blowing faster than before?"
"I couldn't tell," Regdar said.
"Then we must assume that the ice and cold will take as long to leave as they did in coming. That's assuming that the effect will stop at removing the ice it dumped onto our plane and not start sucking in material that's native to our world. Either way, though," Sonja affirmed, "we don't have the luxury of waiting here to find out."
"What do you suggest we do?" asked Regdar.
"We don't know how to use the Frozen Pendant properly," Sonja said. "The ice mephits do. We offer them one last chance to cooperate. If they refuse, we kill them. Glaze, too, if we must. I suspect Glaze watches over the surface from its tower even now."
"How could we close the rift after that?" Hennet asked.
"I'll try again to dispel it," Sonja said, stroking the silver ring from Atupal. "With the effect reversed, the rift may be weaker or at least turned more strongly toward the Plane of Ice. If dispelling doesn't work, then we take the Ilskynarawin back to Atupal, or Klionne or Vasaria or any other city where someone can figure out how to use it. And we pray that we can do this in time."
The others nodded at her plan, though they were concerned about personal matters such as whether they would actually survive a trip back across the frozen landscape.
The druid looked squarely at Regdar. "I want you to stay here with the Frozen Pendant," she declared. "Keep an eye on what happens through the trapdoor if you like, but be prepared to defend the artifact to the death. It cannot fall into the mephits' hands, and I don't want to approach them with it in our possession. This is no reflection on the rest of you, but I think it's probably safest in Regdar's keeping."
Lidda spoke up. "I'm the smallest, the most agile. Why not give it to me? For that matter, why not take it yourself, Sonja? You could probably get back to the cities fastest if the rest of us don't make it out of here."
"I don't like either idea," Regdar objected. "I'd rather stay and fight next to you if need be. I think that's where I'd be more useful."
"I can understand how frustrating this may be for you. But it has to be this way. The Frozen Pendant is more important than any of our lives. Just what the mephits could do with it, I shudder to contemplate. If we should die," she said, pausing slightly, "take it back down there, where it's magically heated. With luck you can hold them off long enough for the cities to send another group."
Regdar reflected on this. Cowering underground seemed a poor way to await his fate. He prayed to all the good gods that it wouldn't come to that. He didn't have nearly enough provisions to hold out for weeks, especially against a constant barrage of whatever monsters the mephits would send after him. Still, he saw the wisdom in Sonja's plan. The pendant mattered far more than any individual's survival.
"All right," the fighter said, stepping back up onto the platform. "My luck goes with you."
Lidda jumped up next to him and wrapped her thin arms around his leg. She looked up at her friend, teary-eyed. After all their battles fought side by side, this was the first time she really feared that she might never see him again.
Regdar tousled her brown locks. "See you soon," he said.
She pulled away reluctantly and joined the others, marching to the black cylinder that contained their route to the surface. Sonja gave him a last, beautiful smile, and it warmed Regdar's heart.
Left alone then in the dark, except for the tiny slit of fading light shining through the trapdoor, Regdar prayed to all the good gods that this would not be the way he died.
As they passed through the door to the upward stair, Hennet grabbed a piece of debris and used it to prop open the door. If they needed to retreat downward, every second might matter. The flapping of many wings could be heard above them, as well as the shrieking and hissing that constituted the ice mephits' language.
"They're waiting for us," whispered Lidda as they ascended the first steps.
"The mephits won't attack us first—not while they think we have the pendant."
"Maybe not," Hennet said, "but maybe we should." He patted one of the pockets of his robe. "What about the alchemist fire we found down there? A quick toss and we could rid ourselves of most of these mephits in one blow. You heard how they fear fire."
Sonja shook her head. "Do you want to knock down the tower with them? Or rain fire down on us? Let me take the lead, and keep your spear ready. I expect we'll need it."
When they reached the top of the stairway, weapons in hand, they found a dozen ice mephits crowded into the small room, perched along the magnificent tarrasque carving that was etched into the wall. The mephits were so positioned that the maximum number of them were in front of the black door to the outside.
Each of them looked more less exactly the same, and they all wore the same expression—smug self-satisfaction, with not a trace of surprise at the party's arrival. For some moments both groups stared silently at the other, each expecting, even daring, the other to speak first.
Ultimately, one of the mephits broke the silence. It spoke the words slo
wly, enunciating each syllable carefully. "Do you have the Ilskynarawin?"
"Your verbeeg didn't take it from us, if that's what you're wondering," Sonja said.
"Or that snow lion you set up down there," Hennet added, clutching his short spear so hard his knuckles were white.
"That's how you repay us for retrieving your artifact?" Lidda asked, waving her sword threateningly at the mephit nearest to her, who was the right height to look her directly in the eye. "You try to have us killed?"
"So you haaave the Ilskynarawin?" another mephit chimed in. "Do you have it?"
"No!" Sonja yelled the word and it echoed through the stairways above and below. "We left it down below. We left it in a room that gets so hot, so infernally hot, that a salamander couldn't survive there."
"As hot as Asmodeus's bowels!" Lidda shouted, sliding the magic torch back into the knot on the wall.
The mephits shuddered at the thought. Such heat was horror.
"It would melt you," Sonja said. "In fact, it would do worse than that. It would reduce you to steam in an instant. You would be vaporized without even leaving a wet spot on the floor. And that's where the Ilskynarawin lies. Go and take it, if you want it badly enough!"
"She liiiies!" one of the enraged mephits screamed. "They all lie! It's here. It's close. I can feeeeel it in my skin!"
Another mephit trilled out a nerve-jangling squeal and took to wing. It swooped toward Sonja, trying to sense, to smell, to perceive the artifact on her. "We must have iiit!" cried the creature.
Sonja swung her cudgel and smashed the mephit headon. It wasn't killed, but it was badly wounded, with crushed wings. The blow flung it backward to sprawl among its fellows. The mephits gasped, startled by the sudden violence.
"No one will have the Ilskynarawin," Sonja declared, "until we get through that door."
The mephits glanced to and fro at each other.
"Why?" one of them asked, hovering in the air over Hennet's head. The sorcerer pointed his spear at it and jabbed slightly, causing the creature to retreat.
"We just want to see," Hennet cooed, "what's on the other side."
"There's nothiiing to see," hissed another mephit. "Nothing to see."
"We want to see that's there's nothing to see," Sonja replied. "If you don't show us, we'll force our way through. We can and we will."
At that, Hennet tossed his short spear straight at the door. The mephits instinctively dodged away from the weapon. When it struck the hard basalt, the way to the door was clear. With a lunge, Hennet plucked the falling spear before it could clatter to the floor. Swinging their weapons to hold back the mephits, Hennet, Sonja, and Lidda rushed the door and forced it open. A sudden blast of cold assaulted their faces. Outside and in natural light once again, they immediately swung round to face the door, ready to slam it shut in the mephits' faces.
Before they could do that, a half dozen or more mephits swarmed the doorway and loosed their icy breath, pelting their enemies with stinging shards of ice that gushed from their mouths and shattered against the backs of Sonja, Lidda and Hennet. The pain and the cold were dulled by their heavy coats, so that the shock of the attack was the worst of it. That was sufficient, however, to knock them sprawling to the ground, unable even to keep their grips on their weapons.
The mephits swept through the doorway, ready to mercilessly slaughter the nearly helpless trio as they scrambled for their weapons. Before the first blow could fall, another voice rang out from across the stark, snow-covered field.
"Halt!"
Regdar stood almost precisely in front of the rift, that point toward which flew all of the snow swirling above them. He hadn't drawn his greatsword, but rather he held his right fist high above his head.
"Observe your precious trinket!" Regdar shouted. He opened his fist and out fell the Ilskynarawin, glowing like a tiny sun, dangling on the gold chain tightly wrapped around his fingers. The mephits ceased their assault on Hennet, Sonja, and Lidda entirely, giving them time to reclaim their weapons and pull themselves to their feet.
Those mephits that were in the air drifted to the ground. All of them stared at the precious artifact they coveted so completely. A reverent silence fell over the nameless city, broken only by the ever-present rush of wind.
"What is he doing?" whispered Hennet to the others. Lidda shook her head in puzzlement, but a wide smile crossed Sonja's features.
Regdar turned around, the Frozen Pendant still clutched firmly in his fist, until he almost faced the rift itself but could still keep his eyes on the mephits. A look of hard resolve covered his face, mixed improbably with the expression of a schoolboy about to do something altogether naughty.
"If you want it..." he yelled as he began swinging the pendant. The mephits let out a collective shriek as they realized what was happening.
"... come and get it!"
Regdar released the pendant. It flew directly into the portal, traveling only a few feet before it vanished in thin air before him. The mephits' collective screeching increased in pitch as they saw their prize disappear and realized how terribly they'd been cheated.
Then they raged.
The Frozen Pendant's principal power was to open a hole into the para-elemental Plane of Ice from the Prime Material Plane, allowing a torrent of ice and cold to blast through. The mephits understood that there was perhaps only one place in all the multiverse where this power was wholly and utterly neutralized.
That was precisely where Regdar had sent it—the Plane of Ice.
Regdar pulled his greatsword from its scabbard and readied himself for the expected onslaught of mephits. After their shriek faded, however, they stood eerily still, all staring at Regdar with their tiny j aws hanging open in shock and disbelief. A new imperative rang through their collective mind. They needed to go back through the rift. They needed to find the artifact and bring it back through to this plane.
That meant getting past Regdar. Only getting past him wasn't good enough. He needed to be slain for what he'd done. In blind anger, just as Regdar had hoped, they emptied the strongest weapon in their collective arsenal directly at him.
The missiles that streaked from their breasts toward Regdar weren't green like Hennet's but shades of orange and red, the colors of fire that the mephits so despised. Their blasts rocketed across the white field, and for a brief moment Regdar contemplated letting himself fall backward through the rift to escape them. Fortunately, he decided it was best to stay in the plane he knew. The missiles slammed weakly against his breastplate. The flurry of impacts pushed him backward, but he knew that if he kept his footing he would be safe.
One of the mephits nearest him tried to take advantage of Regdar's brief distraction to slip right past him into the rift, swooping down from above. It was a good plan with one lethal flaw. However it approached, the mephit needed to dive to Regdar's level to get through the rift itself. When it drew close, Regdar swung his heavy weapon upward, catching its wings and sending it tumbling to the ground. It opened its mouth to cry for help, but no sound came out before Regdar struck the tiny blue head from the body.
At this spectacle, the other mephits took to the air, too, flying through the swirling snow on straining wings, screeching as loudly as they could. Lidda fired her crossbow into the sky, hoping that she might strike one in the mass, while Hennet and Sonja rushed to aid Regdar in defending the rift.
With a reptilian roar and rush of cold air that altered the flow of the wind momentarily, Glaze swooped past and alighted on the side of his tower lair. Quickly he scrambled about, pointing his head down the tower in preparation for launching himself into another pass. In their earlier encounter, the dragon had nearly collided with the ground when forced to perform this maneuver unexpectedly. He knew better this time, and he understood that even his mighty wings were no match for the zephyrs howling toward the rift. This time he scuttled almost to the ground, below the wind, before launching himself from the tower toward Regdar. The warrior faced him with sword raised,
ready for the dragon to burst across the far side of the rift like a juggernaut.
"I know what he's doing," Sonja mumbled.
The dragon intended to chase, or if necessary carry, Regdar from his place guarding the rift. This would give the mephits a chance to slip through to the other side and reclaim the Ilskynarawin.
"Stand guard here," she said to the others when they were assembled before the rift. Even as she spoke, the dragon was dropping from the tower. "Hold this position no matter what. I'll take care of Glaze. By the way," she added, "you may want to shield your ears."
"Why?" asked Regdar.
Sonja had no time to answer. Her robes clung to her form, her hair rose and crackled, and the sharp smell of a brewing storm filled the air as electricity arced over the cold ocean of blue in Sonja's eyes. A second later, a blinding zigzag of light flashed down from the clouds above, simultaneously with a deafening thunderclap that resonated against the far towers and echoed down the valley. The perfectly aimed lightning bolt blasted the young dragon out of the air. Glaze plummeted to the snowy plaza like a side of beef. Mephits scattered in all directions, cowering away from the noise and the brightness of Sonja's heartstopping spell.
Regdar and Hennet, too, almost lost control of their instincts and dived for cover, but Lidda smiled calmly at the display, which put all powderworks she'd witnessed to shame. Lightning from a snowstorm was possible after all. Sonja had proved it.
The air was curiously calm after the burst, and so was Sonja. Her hair and clothes hung limp, yet she seemed energized. Eyes blazing, fingertips glowing, she appeared every inch a witch of nature as she turned her stare on Glaze.
The dragon was not dead. From a crumpled tangle of wings and tail and neck, he sprang into a catlike crouch, tattered wings folded sleekly against his flanks. He would not fly again without months of rest and recuperation to his damaged wings. Pale, purple eyes flared at Sonja, matching the druid's gaze in intensity and anger.
