The Ice Mage Incident – Episode 8
If you ever find yourself in the unfortunate position of hanging upside-down from a long rope tied around your ankles, swinging from side to side like a giant pendulum, while some self-obsessed scoundrel hurls deadly objects at you as he simultaneously barks inane questions, you would do well to heed the following advice:
Don’t get into that situation in the first place.
Take it from one who knows.
Of course, at that point I hadn’t had the benefit of that particular experience, but I learned rather rapidly. The first thing being that begging for mercy was a waste of time.
At my words to that effect, Salkeban yelled, “Silence! Speak only when I ask a question!”
To emphasise his point, he flicked the fingers of his raised hand and the awful hissing ball of insanely cold ice floating in the air next to him suddenly hurtled towards me.
I screeched and flailed my arms hoping to move my swinging body out of the way. I might as well not have bothered. For all my efforts, I swung on at the same speed and in the same direction.
The floor flashed past my head as I reached the lowest point of the arc. I shut my eyes.
Freezing fingers clawed at my cheek as the bitterly cold ball flashed inches past my shoulder and smashed into the cavern’s rear wall.
Salkeban snarled. “Let that be a warning to you.”
With my heart beating like a drum, I reached the highest point of my curved path, slowed, then descended again.
My eyes widened as Salkeban raised another fizzing ball from the pool at his feet.
My head swept over the floor and I swung to the highest point of my arc on the cavern’s opposite side. All the while, the ice mage’s unblinking pale blue eyes followed me.
Once more, I began swinging back down.
“Who are you?” he said.
He’d more than hinted earlier he would ask that question, but hearing it said out loud sent my quaking innards into overdrive.
How was I to answer? Truthfully?
He’d mentioned he would know if I was lying. But how could I tell the truth? I doubted he’d believe it.
Telling him I was the lord of a world-hopping magic castle sounded unlikely even to me.
Although my earlier bravado had vanished, I retained a shred of what I hoped was good sense, and in a shaking voice, replied, “A traveller.”
It was as close to the truth as I dared to go.
“What sort of traveller? Tinker? Peddler? Mummer?”
I wracked my brain for a suitable answer, my hair ruffled by the wind of my oscillations.
“A scholar! I’m a travelling scholar,” I yelled in a high-pitched tone.
It was the best I could come up with – and not entirely untrue. I mean, I had been a student in my youth. And I did travel. Well, the castle did, taking me along with it.
He frowned. “You don’t seem very bright for a scholar… Are you sure you’re not a mummer? I don’t like mummers.”
“No, not a mummer. Definitely a scholar.”
“A scholar of what?”
“Oh… um… you know…”
His frown deepened.
In a state of panic, I blurted, “Ice mages! I study ice mages.”
I’d thought that would appeal to his narcissism, and mentally gave myself a pat on my back as I swished from one side of the cavern to the other.
His eyebrows lifted. “I see. So you came to my fortress to study me?”
“Yes!”
“And you’re a student of ice mages?”
“Yes!”
“Then you must have met many. Who else have you visited and studied before coming to me?”
I gaped in dismay.
His eyes hardened. The ice-ball fizzed and his raised fingers twitched.
An idea flashed into my mind. “You’re the first! I started with the greatest.”
“Oh?” He pursed his lips as he pondered. “Who is the second greatest?”
“Ah…” My mouth turned dry. “His name… seems to have slipped my mind.”
Salkeban flicked his fingers and the ball of ice streaked along the length of the cavern.
I flapped my arms like wings in a useless attempt to slow my passage through the air. But with gut-clenching certainty, I knew I would arrive at the bottommost part of my arc at the same time as the dreadful globe of ice got there.
Trailing a tail of frozen air like a comet, the abominable ball rushed to its appointment with my tender flesh. With only a second to spare, I bent at the waist, lifted my lower body out of harm’s way, and grabbed hold of my legs.
The ball whizzed past under my bent back, sucking the warmth from my spine, and exploded against the wall behind me.
I couldn’t stay doubled-up for long. My aching fingers slipped from my legs, and my body straightened once more.
“Next question.” Salkeban’s voice boomed above the fizzling of icy fragments as they hit the cavern’s floor. He gesticulated, and another ice-ball rose, hissing and crackling from the pool. “How did you break down my gate?”
“It wasn’t me!”
“Of course it was! You came alone. I saw nobody–”
His speech cut off, and he stared at my right arm.
“What is that in your hand?” he said, his tone low and menacing.
He lifted his arms, muttering arcane words as he did so. My oscillations slowed, and I shuddered to a stop.
I glanced at my hand. I was still gripping Trewla’s hat, which I’d picked up earlier.
“It’s nothing,” I said.
“Clearly, it isn’t nothing.”
“Oh, yes…” I said, chuckling as though I’d only just noticed what I was holding. “It’s my hat.”
“No, it isn’t. Your hat fell from your head.” He pointed. “There it is, lying on the floor beneath you.”
The last thing I wanted to do was to tell him whose hat it really was. It would put Trewla in terrible danger if he found out she was in his fortress too.
I toyed with the notion of telling him the hat belonged to Anders, but he wouldn’t believe that for a moment. It was far too small to fit the blacksmith’s fat head.
From out of nowhere, a mote of inspiration popped into my mind.
Anders’ daughter.
The blacksmith had told us Salkeban had kidnapped her. He must have imprisoned her somewhere in the fortress.
“This hat belongs to Kari,” I said.
A bark of laughter erupted from Salkeban. “Kari? Ha! How amusing!” He clapped his hands slowly and deliberately. “I commend your imagination.”
As abruptly as it had come, his laughter ceased. He gave me a hard stare. “Now, tell me who that hat really belongs to.”
“It’s mine,” rang out a female voice.
I yanked my gaze from Salkeban’s pale eyes and turned to look at where the voice had come from.
My heart skipped a beat. Trewla was standing in the entrance to the cavern, glaring at the ice mage.
From out of the shadows behind her stepped Anders, his hammer in his hand.
“Blacksmith!” roared Salkeban. “I warned you to stay away!”
“It’s him you want!” I yelled at the ice mage. “Let me go! He’s the one who broke your bloody gate!”
Both men ignored me, though Trewla gave me a frown.
Salkeban turned to face the pair in the entrance, the floating ice-ball staying at his side.
Anders raised his hammer. “Return Kari to me! Now!”
The ice mage twitched his fingers.
Anders dived into the cavern and rolled to one side as the hideous frozen ball streaked towards the entrance.
Trewla didn’t move.
My gut lurched.
The horrid hissing ball was heading straight for her.
*** Continued in Episode 9 ***