The Ice Mage Incident – Episode 9
I froze.
Not literally, of course – though what with being inside an ice-cavern, I wasn’t particularly warm – but in the sense that my thoughts slowed to the pace of an arthritic tortoise.
Nevertheless, my heart jumped into my mouth as the super-cold sphere of ice flew like an arrow through the air at Trewla.
She tensed, and her legs bent in readiness to leap out of the way.
But just as she was about to spring, Anders stepped around her at the speed of a striking snake, his thick arms flexing as he swung his hammer. The lethal sphere exploded in a shower of icy fragments as the iron head smacked into it like a steam train hitting a snowball.
Salkeban recoiled, then snarled and waved his hand over the pool at his feet.
“Stop!” roared Anders. “Or I’ll–”
“Or you’ll what?” yelled the ice mage. Another hideous, crackling ball of ice floated up from the pool. “You know you can’t defeat me!”
The blacksmith’s lip curled. “Your feeble missiles are no match for my hammer.”
“Ha! Don’t be so sure of yourself. What’s more, they are not the only weapon in my armoury!”
“Oh, really?” Anders spread his arms and lifted his chin, exposing his chest. “Come on then! Do your worst!”
I gasped. Had he gone insane? As much as I despised the ice mage, I’d developed a healthy respect for his magic.
“You dare to provoke me?” An evil smile split Salkeban’s face. “I’m going to make you sorry you were ever born!”
The floating ice ball sank back into the pool and the ice mage whirled around, his head darting from side to side like he was searching for something.
“My staff… Where is it?” Uncertainty tinged the ice mage’s tone. “I used it earlier to capture that miscreant.” He pointed at me.
That’s the thing with wizards – and self-described mages. While they can cast simple spells without any props, to wield real power they need their staff. Each wizard’s staff is unique, painstakingly crafted by them over decades.
“I must have brought it here with me,” muttered Salkeban. “Where did I put it?”
Anders grinned. “Like the idiot you are, you dropped it.” He reached back and picked up something out of sight in the passageway behind Trewla. His hand reappeared holding a long stick, its gnarled surface crusted with frost. “Look what I found at the cave mouth.”
“Give it to me!” shouted Salkeban. He stalked towards the blacksmith.
“Stay where you are, or else…” Anders thrust out his arms before him, holding the staff horizontally, an end in each of his meaty hands. He bunched his muscles and specks of frost fell from the stick as he bent it a fraction.
Salkeban shuddered to a halt, his face a mask of horror.
“You wouldn’t dare break it,” he whispered.
“Wouldn’t I?” The blacksmith bared his teeth. “Return Kari to me now. Or else…”
The staff creaked and more frost-flakes drifted to the floor.
“Wait!” Salkeban raised his hands, showing his open palms to the blacksmith. “She isn’t down here in the caves.” He pointed at the roof. “She’s up there in my fortress.”
“Take me to her. And don’t try anything funny or I’ll reduce your staff to matchsticks.”
Anders stepped to the side, away from the entrance, indicating with head movements to Trewla that she should do the same. When they were both out of the way, Salkeban hurried past them out of the cavern.
The pair were about to follow him when I found my voice.
“Hey! What about me?”
The blacksmith glowered at me and kept going, but Trewla hesitated.
“You can’t leave me here like this,” I said. “Please!”
She threw a glance at Anders’ retreating back, then looked at me, her jaw clenching and unclenching.
My heart leaped when she huffed, shook her head, and ran over to me.
“I don’t know why I’m doing this,” she said, working at the knots in the rope around my ankles. “You don’t deserve it.”
I was about to demand an explanation, but thought better of it when I saw the look on her face.
“Thanks,” I said, instead.
Her fingers paused their efforts. “Say it like you mean it.”
“I do mean it!” I gave her my best puppy-eyed, sorrowful look.
She grunted in a way which wasn’t entirely derisive, and tugged at a knot. It loosened, and I hastily curled my head forward as my shoulders thumped into the floor. Winded, I rolled over and groaned.
“Come on,” she said, seizing my arm and pulling me to my feet. “We need to hurry. Anders will need our help.”
I staggered, giddy at being the right way up again. “No, he won’t. He seems pretty capable to me. In any case, his problems aren’t ours! You and I need to get out of here and return to the castle post-haste!”
“I’m not going to abandon him! Or his daughter! I promised to help!”
So saying, she ran out of the cavern, her long hair streaming behind her.
I groaned and hobbled after her, bending to rub my sore ankles where the rope had bitten into them, my breath sawing in and out of my throat.
Over the years I’ve visited more worlds than I care to remember, and encountered more than my fair share of unpleasant people. As a result, I’ve become fairly good at avoiding sticky situations.
Which is why I was surprised at myself for not hightailing it back to the sleigh.
What can I say? When it comes to a certain elf, my heart holds sway.
Trudging along the ice caves, the stiffness in my poor bruised legs eased, and I picked up my pace.
When Salkeban had been leading me in the opposite direction, I’d tried to memorise the route. It turned out I needn’t have bothered. The scuff marks left by Anders’ heavy boots in the granular ice covering the floor led the way.
It wasn’t long before I emerged from the cave into the fortress’ courtyard, blinking in the pearly daylight.
The older footprints from when Trewla, Anders, and I had arrived were almost invisible under fresh snowfall. A set of three new ones – two heavy, and one light – led across the courtyard to one of the larger and grander buildings.
Sighing, I slogged through the snow to the building’s open doorway, walked through it, and stopped to get my bearings.
I was in a hall, its stone walls adorned with portraits of sombre-faced men and women. Rows of grey marble floor tiles marched in dead-straight lines to the far wall where an impressive pair of tall, arched windows did their best to lift the dreary atmosphere. A pair of high-backed, cushioned chairs placed on either side of an ornate low table were the only furniture.
Despite the luxurious décor, it was as cold, if not colder, than outside. The picture frames, chairs, table, and window ledges were coated in frost. Ice glittered on the walls and the window panes.
Of the several doors leading out of the hall, one stood ajar.
Salkeban and Anders’ voices were coming through the gap. I couldn’t make out the words, but there was no doubt they weren’t engaged in genial conversation.
Glancing back to reassure myself the front door was still open, I crept forwards.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when Anders let out a mighty yell.
“Kari! I’ve come for you! You’re safe now!”
*** To Be Continued ***