by Pedro Urvi
Eicewald looked at Lasgol and smiled. “An intelligent young man. I noticed that when we first met. I’m pleased to have it confirmed.”
“Thank you, sir.” Lasgol had not expected the compliment, and he was surprised.
“Although there’s very little information about these creatures, since few have been able to study them, there is some knowledge.” He indicated the thick volume on the table. “This tome of wisdom is a study on the subject. It was written by Irgen Gundarsen, an eminence among Norghanian scholars of the Magic Arts. I don’t suppose you’ve heard of it.”
“No, sir … do I understand he was a Mage?”
Eicewald nodded and smiled. “He was. One with great power, and greater knowledge. A Norghanian by birth, who was driven by his studies to move to live in the Frozen Continent. He had no interest in wars, or in Norghanian conquests. He was a scholar in search of the secrets hidden in the Frozen Continent. He was fascinated by everything to do with that tundra. The people, the climate, and most of all the magical creatures he found there: the creatures and the basis of their power, of their magic. Needless to say, he had great difficulty in carrying out his investigations, because the peoples of that continent are not exactly friendly toward Norghanians. Still, Master Irgen managed to get them to allow him to work. How he did it is a mystery.” Eicewald shrugged. “I think he came to some kind of agreement with the Leaders of the Arcanes of the Glaciers. Unfortunately, we’ll never know.”
“He didn’t survive?”
“I’m afraid not. He disappeared a long time ago. There were several expeditions to find him, but they were unsuccessful. I led the last of them.”
Lasgol was surprised by this. Why had Eicewald gone in search of Irgen? Why risk his life? There must have been an important reason. “Was he a relative?” he said to try to draw out the reason, though he did not suppose they had been family.
Eicewald shook his head. “Not by blood, but you could say we were thanks to our field of study. I too am passionate about the Ice Creatures.”
“Oh, I see, you study them too.”
“Exactly. Except that my interest is not just in those particular creatures, but all those which have power, which are born with magic.”
“I see, all the magical creatures of Tremia.”
“That’s right. It’s something that fascinates me. A long time ago one of Irgen’s tomes came into my hands by chance, when I was a young novice mage. It spoke of creatures which were possibly distant relatives of the vanished dragons, which lived in the Frozen Continent and had power. From that day on I began to study the subject in the hope of becoming an erudite. I don’t think I’ve done that yet, but my studies have taken me to different regions of Tremia, and I’ve learnt a lot.”
“It’s an interesting subject,” Lasgol said. He was beginning to understand why Eicewald had not appeared at the court of Norghana until relatively recently. He must have been away on one of his journeys of investigation.
“It is. That’s why I went in search of Irgen. I was very interested in rescuing his studies.”
Lasgol was very interested now. “Did you succeed?”
Eicewald smiled. “Yes. In the expedition to save Irgen’s work I was able to rescue several of his tomes, and the most important of them you see on this table. The scholar named it Compendium of Magical Creatures of the Frozen Continent. He liked to call things by their proper names, and he was very descriptive, hence the thickness and size of the volume, as well as its title.”
Lasgol craned his neck to see it better. “It looks really old.”
“It is. It required a lot of work to keep it in good condition. The creature we’re going to confront is mentioned in this volume.”
Lasgol froze. Then there was information about the Specter. This was wonderful.
“That’s good news,” he said. “There’ll be information that’ll help us destroy it.”
Eicewald made an odd gesture, which Lasgol did not know how to interpret. “It mentions the creature. It also says that it’s possible that a large amount of power might affect it, but this isn’t necessarily good news. That’s why I told King Thoran I needed some time to study the creature and how to destroy it.”
“And you’ve found out how to?”
The Mage nodded. “I believe I have. Let’s hope so.”
Lasgol breathed out heavily in relief. “I was getting quite worried,” he admitted.
“It’s not going to be easy. The spell we’re going to have to cast is one of great power and might not work, because it’s never been worked before on a creature like this and in the conditions we’ll have to face. From the references I’ve found in the tome, and the analysis of the kind of power this creature possesses, I believe we can find a spell that will destroy it. That’s why I’ve brought the other Ice Magi with me. We’ll need all their power.”
“A great spell on a large scale, all working together. That makes sense.”
Eicewald nodded. “There’s one last very important detail.” From his traveling bag the Mage took out something wrapped in a white scarf with silver symbols on it. He opened it, slowly and carefully, and showed Lasgol a huge, crystallized snowflake the size of a human hand which shone an intense white. The hair on the back of Lasgol’s neck stood on end immediately, and he had the clear feeling that this was neither a jewel nor some anomaly created during the formation of snow. It was imbued with power, a great deal of power. Suddenly he felt a terrible cold gripping his entire body.
The mage arched an eyebrow. “Do you know what this is?”
“I’m not sure, sir, it looks like an oversized crystallized snowflake, but it shines too brightly …” He narrowed his eyes, unable to take his gaze off the extraordinary object. Vapor came out of his mouth. The temperature went on going down inside the tent.
“The reason why it shines like this, and why the temperature in the tent is going down so drastically, is because we’re in the presence of an Object of Power.”
“Of power?” Lasgol repeated.
“Magical. Imbued with, or possessing, magic, to be precise. In Tremia there are different Objects of Power with exceptional qualities. This is one of them.”
“It’s charmed,” Lasgol said. His legs had begun to shake from the freezing cold. Eicewald, on the other hand, seemed to be perfectly comfortable, which Lasgol assumed was because he was a Mage of Ice and had spent his life manipulating snow and ice, creating winter storms and all kinds of things which involved the Element of Water and the extremes it could be driven to at very low temperatures.
“This one in particular isn’t, though there are others which are. This one is even more special because the magic it possesses is its own. It hasn’t been charmed.”
“I don’t know much about magic, but I thought objects couldn’t have magic, only living creatures.”
Eicewald smiled. “Unfortunately, we don’t have enough time for me to explain all these concepts. Perhaps someday, if you’re interested … What I can assure you is that there are three types of these objects. I’ll summarize them so that you can get an idea. There are charmed objects, which a Mage or a being with magic has charmed or put under a spell. These are Minor Objects of Power. They’re the commonest. You mostly find them in the form of charmed weapons such as swords, bows or shields and suchlike. Also, in jewels, because they’re easy to carry. The type of spell depends on what’s being sought: improving one’s attack or defense, deceit, optical illusion – there are all kinds. The Medium Objects of Power are those imbued with magic which can be used for different purposes. They have no specific function. They’re a reservoir of magic which a mage can use to make his spells more powerful or to extend them, by using the object as an extra store of power. Do you understand?”
Lasgol nodded. “I think so, sir.” He put his hands under his armpits, because it was now so cold.
“The Objects of Medium Power are as a rule finite, although one or two exceptions have been found which have the capacity to re
generate themselves. The source of power they store is usually consumed completely, but in exceptional cases it can regenerate after a while until it has once again regained its initial power. These objects are very highly valued and hence sought after. Great Magi and Sorcerers have created them, or in rarer cases, nature itself has. Some are especially valued because they can store a considerable amount of magic.”
“Is this snowflake a Medium Object of Power?”
Eicewald shook his head. “No, this is a Greater Object of Power. It hasn’t been imbued or charmed by anybody. It has a large amount of energy stored within it, as well as its own inner source of power. It regenerates this when it’s consumed. This type of Object, of course, is the most sought-after in Tremia by people like me who understand and appreciate their value. Most humans aren’t even aware of their existence. Those of us who belong to the magical world, on the other hand, and in particular those of us who study it, are. They interest us greatly. Few are known, and to possess one or more is the goal of many Magi and Sorcerers. As a result, they’re usually surrounded by disputes and shady or violent pasts.”
“It produces its own magic?” Lasgol was genuinely impressed. Egil had never told him anything about this. He would have to tell him as soon as he saw him.
“That’s correct, and like Medium Objects it could have a finite energy or else could regenerate, except that the amount of power it stores is very great, which is why it is a Greater Object. In this case it can regenerate completely, which makes this beauty an invaluable object. It’s called an Eternal Snowflake.”
Eicewald put it away in the scarf and back into his bag. At once Lasgol felt the temperature of the tent begin to rise.
“Better?”
“Ye…es,” Lasgol said. His voice was unsteady.
“The power which radiates from the Eternal Snowflake affects the temperature around it. To prevent that you must prevent its light from spreading.”
“Does it have some power, or does it only store energy?”
Eicewald smiled. “That’s a good question, I see you have a nimble mind.” He stared into Lasgol’s eyes. A shiver ran down his spine as he felt the scrutiny of the Mage’s dark eyes, which seemed to be delving into his mind.
“It has both, and they’re very special. We use them as an enhancer for the spell against the Frozen Specter. You must be wondering why I’ve confided all this information to you.”
“I … well …”
“It’s logical.” His gesture indicated that he had expected this. “Magi are reserved by nature, and we like our secrets. This is because of our profession. If I’ve told you all this, it’s because I need something from you,”
Lasgol’s eyes widened. He had not been expecting this. “From me?”
“Yes. You see, when we are casting the great spell, we won’t be able to touch the Eternal Snowflake. We’ll need someone to hold it and assist us. I thought about you. You know the Creature we’re up against, and you have an open mind, quite apart from the fact that you’re a Specialist Ranger. I think you’ll do very well, and it guarantees us a certain safety. Will you help us?”
“Yes, of course,” Lasgol replied. He was rather confused, and very surprised, at having been chosen.
“It won’t be a pleasant experience. As you’ve seen, you’ll experience the low temperatures the object produces. Don’t worry too much, we’ll prepare you so that you can do it, and protect you from the effects of the cold.”
This sounded rather alarming to Lasgol, but he did not want to tell the Mage this after he had been entrusted with all that information.
“Very well, then. Go and get some rest. We’ll let you know when the time comes. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of everything.”
“I just hope we can get rid of the creature.”
“That’s what we’re all hoping,” the mage assured him.
When Lasgol came out of the tent he saw that the other four Ice Magi were still practicing and studying. This reassured him a little. They would protect him. He went back to the Rangers, puzzling over everything Eicewald had revealed to him.
At dawn they went on deeper into the Frozen Territories. The nights were now very tense and long. As they were in enemy territory, fires were forbidden, and though the season meant that the temperature was mild, they were now very far north and it was colder, so that it seemed autumn had come instead of the summer that was on its way. Luckily Norghanians were used to these temperatures, and the cloaks and blankets were enough to make the nights bearable.
Lasgol and the other Rangers were keeping watch ahead. The only good thing about this was that he could enjoy the company of Camu and Ona, since he was alone most of the day.
If you detect anything I don’t, Lasgol messaged his two friends, you tell me, agreed?
Yes, we warn, Camu replied. He was staring out over the plain that stretched out in front of them. Ona chirped affirmatively.
I have the feeling that they aren’t going to attack us, and that’s worrying me.
No attack?
That’s what it’s starting to look like. They should have attacked us somehow. The Wild Ones aren’t exactly patient, and we’re deep into their territory. Tomorrow we reach one of those new large villages of theirs we found last time we were here. It isn’t normal for them to let us get so far, knowing as they do that we’re on our way. They’re planning something …
Ona hissed, showing that she did not like this either.
Brutish Wild Ones, always attack.
Yes, and that’s exactly why I’m surprised they’re not.
Tomorrow see.
Yeah, we’ll see what they’re up to, but I’m not at all easy. They’re not behaving the way we’re used to, and when things don’t go the way they ought to, it’s usually a bad sign.
The following day they came to the outskirts of the village, but found it deserted. The prints they found indicated that the whole village had fled north. Taken aback, they went on. They sent Royal Rangers to the other village Lasgol had discovered, and when they came back they reported the same news. The village had been abandoned, and all the Wild Ones had fled north.
“What are they trying to do?” Sven asked Gatik, looking troubled. “They never withdraw, they always fight. This is really strange.”
“They seem to be leading us on to the north.”
Sven was examining one of his maps. “There’s nothing to the north. The land comes to an end and we reach the sea.”
“Well, that’s where they’re going. That’s what the trail indicates,” Gatik said with a shrug.
“There’s one last village, sir,” Lasgol pointed out.
“To the north?” Gatik asked.
“Yes, sir. I didn’t get that far, but I saw it in the distance.”
“Do you think they’ve all gathered there in this last village?” Sven asked Gatik. “As if it were a meeting point for all their forces?”
“It looks that way. All the trails indicate they’ve gone north. If there’s a village there, it must be their meeting point, where they’re waiting for battle.”
“Yes, I agree. Let’s move on. I don’t care if we have to chase them as far as the sea. We’ll do that, then throw their bodies over the cliffs.”
“Agreed,” Gatik said.
The following day, when they arrived at the last village of the Wild Ones, more than a thousand Wild Ones and Tundra Dwellers were waiting. With them were small groups of Semi-Giants and Arcanes of the Glaciers.
It was true that they had been waiting for them.
To kill them.
Chapter 15
Sven raised his sword and gave the order: “Battle formation!”
The Norghanian infantry took up its position in three long, compact lines, each man separated from the one in front by an arm and a half. They gripped shields and war axes and stretched the muscles in their necks, shoulders, arms and legs in preparation for the battle.
Behind them, covering the left flank, the Royal Ra
ngers took up their positions, with Gatik at their head. Sven and the Royal Guards moved to cover the right flank. In the center, behind the infantry, the Ice Magi took their places, with Eicewald at their head. Enker and Misten joined the Royal Rangers. Lasgol did not know where to go, and after a moment’s indecision he too went towards the Royal Rangers.
“Lasgol, you come with us!” Eicewald called.
Lasgol obeyed uneasily and went to stand behind the Magi, with Ona beside him. Camu remained further back, camouflaged.
Five hundred paces below was the village of the Wild Ones. They could see it perfectly well, both the buildings and the enemy host, which was waiting in front of them in a long line. Lasgol was impressed by the sight of all the Wild Ones of the Ice: over six feet tall, impressively muscled, their skin glowing ice-blue and their bluish-blond hair and beards standing out from afar. What impressed him most were those eyes, practically white, with a very pale iris. The axes they carried were as massive as their muscles. They always gave him the impression that beside them, the Norghanians were no more than teenagers they could easily destroy. They were so huge and strong that they awoke fear in the fiercest of the Norghanians.
He swallowed. Even more than the Wild Ones and their lords the Semi-Giants, who were as tall and strong as two Wild Ones, he was worried by the Arcanes of the Glaciers and their magic from the Frozen Continent. It was not a good sign that a group of them were there. As a rule, they did not leave their own land unless there was some good reason, and this battle was certainly it. Luckily they themselves had the Ice Magi, who would confront the magic of the Arcanes.
Another circumstance troubled him even more. In the middle of the great circular plaza, he could see the strange three-tiered totem, and his skin prickled. Almost without thinking, by reflex, he used his Gift and called upon his Hawk’s Eye and Owl Hearing skills. He glanced to see whether any of the Magi had noticed anything, but their attention was focused on the enemy and nobody was paying any attention to him.
