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In the chill of the ice chamber beneath Blackthorn Lake, Flir glared at the bearded form of Yeshinov, who had once again moved closer to the Sea God’s great eye. The man had stretched an arm forth yet still he did not touch the frozen beast. The other hand gripped the serpent talisman – and that was the key to escape, surely. He’d obviously expanded the invisible ‘leash’ for those who’d left to search for wood but once it had been neutralised, the Ice-Priests would be free and...
The Ice-Priests!
That was the answer. Flir stepped forward. “I can help them with fire, Lord Yeshinov.”
He did not turn. “Just you. And make it swift.”
Flir met Kanis’ eyes as she passed. His expression was one of confusion, but she mouthed the words ‘be ready’ and he gave a nod, turning to Pevin and the others.
She climbed the cold tunnel and burst into mid-morning light upon the frozen lake and its thin coating of snow. A breeze tugged at her hair now, no blizzard by any means but cold enough. Not too far distant, a group of Ice-Priests argued upon the barren shore.
Flir crossed the ice at a stride – slipping only once – and waved when Tsaro noticed her. “What’s wrong?”
The young man gave a heavy sigh. “We can pull the ice and frost back from any of the branches and logs, even draw the moisture out but we still don’t have anything to spark a flame.”
“I have an idea but I’ll need everyone’s help.”
“What do you have in mind, My Lady?” one of the others asked, the older fellow whom most priests called ‘Old Nic’ even though he wasn’t elderly. His skin was quite red from the icy wind however.
“I need you all to strike at the same time when we go back down there. I didn’t realise quite how sophisticated your gifts were,” she said, shaking her head. “Before I left for Anaskar, I never saw anything quite like what you did to grant us access to the Sea God, you know.”
“Mishalar has blessed us, Dilar,” another said.
“So it seems,” she said with a smile. “Would you say enough to encase Yeshinov in ice?”
They exchanged glances before Tsaro spoke. “It could work.”
Old Nic nodded. “But someone has to maintain the room – we cannot take too much at once.”
“Some of us can stay outside and freeze the water directly behind the walls,” Tsaro offered.
“Perfect.” Flir slapped him on the shoulder, causing him to pitch forward. “Sorry.”
“It is no trouble, Dilar. How many should go?”
“Split into half,” she replied. “We’ll bring the wood back. I can tell Yeshinov that the rest of you are still searching, since we need so much more.”
“How do we let everyone else know what to do?” Tsaro asked.
“You only have to get two words out. ‘Freeze him’ or something similar should do.”
The older fellow nodded. “That will be enough.”
“And I’ll distract him once you’re all in place, so don’t worry about being overheard.” Flir held out her arms. “Load me up.”
Once she had an armful of wood, which seemed equally dry and cold, even with her tolerance for extreme weather, she started back across the ice. This time, Flir stepped with a touch more care, slowing at the entrance to give a nod to the priests behind her. Tsaro led a few around the opening, where each knelt and placed their hands upon the uneven surface.
The tunnel sloped easily and as she trudged down, she heard a few whispers from behind; the priests getting themselves ready? Yet a louder whisper came before they reached the bottom. “Dilar?”
She glanced back, it was Old Nic. “Yes?”
“What of the talisman?”
“Once he’s frozen we’ll deal with it – you noticed how he eased the leash to let you search, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then we have to take a chance now, and assume that freezing it first won’t be a problem.”
He nodded slowly. “Right.”
In the sea chamber, Kanis and the others – Ice-Priests included – watched with tight expressions as Yeshinov paced before the imposing form of Evakeda, the half-buried Sea God seeming to fill the room more than it actually did.
“Arrange the fire here,” Yeshinov snapped as he pointed toward the cold sand before the beast.
Flir knelt to unload the wood and the priests slowly fanned out, their legs visible when she glanced behind. Yeshinov was still pacing, looking up at the Sea Beast with alternating frowns and smiles now. Was he actually fool enough to defy the witch? It seemed he was bent on attempting it.
The serpent talisman swung from his neck now.
Would the plan work?
There was no choice but to try. Flir stood. “This will fail, you know.”
“Will it?” he chuckled.
“The flesh of a Sea God is toxic. You’ll die if you eat it – is that your plan for dealing with your Mistress? To die?” she said, keeping his attention focused on her. She’d put her hands on her hips now.
“For a mouse perhaps, but I am no such thing, as you should know.”
“Freeze him!”
The shout echoed in a muted kind of way but even as the words burst forth lances of ice shot down from the roof. They struck Yeshinov as he whirled, a snarl upon his face, and each one clung to and then slowed him.
Other pieces flashed across the chamber too, striking his body with sharp claps as he grasped at his talisman – but ice had already covered his arms. More and more sliced over, as the remaining priests caught on to the attack, adding their power to the task. Yeshinov roared and the chill bindings began to creak – until a piece flew across the chamber to cover his mouth.
White and deep blue continued to pile upon him, moulding to his shape, thick enough now to cloud his very features.
“A little more,” Simina cried.
Another spear of ice splashed over Yeshinov and then the creaking stopped.
Hard breathing filled the chamber, and then a few cries of triumph or perhaps release rose from the group. Yet one face was not quite so confident – Pevin approached from between the rejoicing Ice-Priests, Kanis, Aren and Grav in tow.
“This might bode ill for us, Dilar,” Pevin said. “What of the White Witch now?”
“Gods be damned,” Flir said, thumping her thigh with a fist. “You’re right. I hadn’t considered what she might do after seeing this. Even with three of us, we can’t face her.”
“Could we freeze her, same as him?” Kanis jerked a thumb to Yeshinov.
“We might not have any other recourse,” Pevin replied.
The Ice-Priests hung from each other, talking softly now, their expressions revealing a mix of weariness and lingering relief still. Could they manage another attack if the White Witch appeared? It seemed cruel to ask more of them now... yet what other choice remained?
Yeshinov’s words echoed.
For a mouse perhaps but I am no such thing, as you should know.
Flir turned back to the Sea God, last of its kind for all she knew. What would happen if the Witch came to possess the bones?
A loud crack brought conversation to a halt.
“Look!” someone cried.
The sculpted pile of ice that Yeshinov had become was creaking, especially around the serpent talisman. A few of the Priests fell to their knees with cries of shock and pain.
“He must not break free,” Simina shouted. She whirled to face her fellows. “Who can summon more ice?”
Few priests stepped forward. Some looked up from where they crouched, still breathing hard, others gasping in pain. Simina raised her arms but nothing happened, her jaw clenched.
“My Lady?” Grav clung to Kanis as he looked to her.
Things were falling apart. Flir hissed; she could not let their efforts be for nothing. She leapt for Yeshinov and swung her fist, as hard as she could.
Ice cracked and the man’s head flew across the chamber. It hit the wall with a second, mightier crack as it lodged deep in the ice. Water tricked in around the head, a thin, gleaming line.
Silence.
Red began to blossom at the neck of the still-standing body, tinting the block.
“At least no-one’s in pain anymore, right?” Flir said.
Footsteps echoed from the tunnel before anyone could answer. Tsaro appeared – followed by other priests, running with ease on the uncertain surface. His eyes were wide and his voice shrill when he spoke. “It’s the White Witch!”
So soon? Flir stepped forward. “What?”
“She’s coming this way – and there’s a strange man with her too.”