The Ice Mage Incident – Episode 5
Trewla promising the blacksmith we’d help him get his daughter back was a bit rich, from my point of view. And a stretch to say we’d also undo the spell that had made statues of his fellow villagers.
It’s not that I’m opposed to doing a good deed when it suits, but in my experience it isn’t healthy to get involved in the affairs of the people whose world we’re visiting.
The thing is, the castle’s going to hop to the next world after a couple of weeks, which is often barely enough time for us to restock our supplies. Call me heartless, but getting involved in other folk’s problems means a fortnight of porridge for breakfast.
Besides which I had an uneasy feeling about the blacksmith, Anders. He seemed the brooding sort what with his smouldering glances and thick hair he kept brushing back from his indecently chiseled face.
The trouble was, Trewla appeared to have been taken in by his melodramatics, so despite my misgivings, I found myself grinding my teeth and agreeing to go along with her scheme to help him.
It was that or run the risk of sinking even lower in the murky depths of her opinion of me.
“So,” I said, addressing Anders who was getting to his feet and spending far too long for my liking rippling his muscles while Trewla gazed on in doe-eyed appreciation. “This Salkeban chap… He’s some kind of wizard, I take it?”
“He’s far greater. He’s an ice mage. A terrible one at that. He cares not who he hurts.”
Though I’d never heard of an ice mage before, it didn’t take a genius to guess what Salkeban did with his magic. And as for him being a mage… I’ve met a few of them in my time and I can say without doubt, mage is a title they pick out for themselves. In reality, they’re merely wizards with inflated egos.
I snorted. “Why didn’t you just make what he asked? Then you wouldn’t be in the fix you’re in now.”
Anders’ face darkened. “To do so would have meant becoming as evil as him.”
Intrigued, I said, “What did he want you to make?”
“It doesn’t matter what it was,” said Trewla. “The point is Anders made the right choice.” She put a hand on his arm. “Do you have any idea where Salkeban is keeping your daughter?”
“In his fortress in the middle of the forest, for certain.” He bunched his fist. “I will take you there. Come, let us leave this instant!”
He marched to the door and wrenched it open. As the icy air washed over his bare arms, he hesitated.
I hid my smile behind my hand.
“Perhaps you should put on a coat before you go charging off,” I said, innocently.
He shook his head. “I no longer have one. My coat was in my house which was attached to my forge…” He swallowed. “It burned down too.”
My heart sang. He’d accidentally burned down his house! Now Trewla would see him for the idiot he was.
“Oh, you poor man,” she said, her eyes shining. “You lost your home as well as your livelihood. And all because you took a stand against evil.”
His chin lifted and he wiped a tear from his cheek. “It matters not as long as I get my Kari back.”
No mention of unfreezing the villagers, I noted.
Thrusting out his chest, he strode outside. Through the window I saw him swerve past the spot where we’d found him lying unconscious. He picked up something up out of the snow – a large hammer, by the look of it – and set off towards the forest without bothering to check if we were following.
“There’s no point looking around the village for a coat he could borrow,” said Trewla, making for the door. “It will only cause delay, and I don’t expect we’ll find one that will fit him anyway.”
Choking on my astonishment at the fact that neither she nor Anders had troubled themselves to discuss what we would do once we reached the fortress, I followed her outside.
By the time I’d rounded the front of the house, Anders was already at the edge of the forest. I caught sight of him vanishing into a narrow gap between the trees.
Trewla was a dozen paces ahead of me. I trudged after her through the snow, once again cursing myself for a fool.
The troll came out from behind a house which he must have ducked behind when Anders had gone outside. He waved at Trewla and ambled up to her. There was a hurried conversation after which he dropped back some distance behind us. Presumably so the brave blacksmith wouldn’t spot him and taking fright.
On that subject, it hadn’t escaped my notice that the entire time we’d been indoors with Trewla she’d kept her hat on with her ears tucked under it.
I didn’t blame her for being prudent. The only folk we’d encountered so far were human. This might be one of those worlds where other species like elves, goblins and trolls no longer existed.
As for Grimmon… He’d stayed out of sight. I had no doubt the goblin was still sulking in the back of the sleigh. Not that I blamed him. I wouldn’t have minded joining him instead of being dragged along on some harebrained scheme to rescue a damsel in distress.
While I’d been musing, Trewla had followed Anders’ footprints and entered the forest at the same place he had. I lengthened my stride and soon caught up with them hurrying along a snow-covered path that wound its way between the trees.
The silence of the forest was broken only by the muffled crunching of our footsteps and the occasional soft thump of snow sliding from a branch. It was eerily oppressive, and each time I went to speak the words died in my throat. Neither of my companions uttered a sound either.
After twenty minutes of hard slog, the path opened out and we found ourselves at the edge of a clearing.
My jaw dropped.
Looming out of an eerie mist was a harsh, forbidding fortress, its massive stone walls encrusted with ice, its battlements hidden under a mantle of snow. The path led up to its gate sealed by a pair of heavy doors guarded by a bastion on either side.
“Well, Anders,” said I, hoping to show up the blacksmith for the loon he was. “How do think you’re going to get inside?”
He cast a dark look at me. “I’ll break down the gate, of course.”
I chuckled. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
With a muttered, “Wait here,” he stalked off along the path.
The man was clearly out of his mind. The grim wooden gate looked stout enough to stop a marauding army of ogres, never mind a bare-armed blockhead with a hammer.
I kept my mouth shut, waiting for the moment he made a fool of himself, at which I would cough to attract Trewla’s attention and roll my eyes.
A pace away from the gate, Anders threw back his head and howled. He hefted his hammer and my scalp tingled as a warped and twisted halo of light streamed from its iron head.
With a hoarse yell, he swung the hammer in a roundhouse blow at the stout timbers before him.
The gate exploded, shattering into a thousand pieces which arced away into the air. I jumped back as a lump of wood the size of my head crashed into the snow at my feet.
“What are you waiting for?” yelled Anders, looking back at us and beckoning with his arm.
He turned and strode through the wrecked gateway.
Trewla leaped away, her boots flicking snow into my face as she bounded after him.
*** Continued in Episode 6 ***