Through the Ice (22 page)

But time is frozen within the whistle, is it not? So we would not need more than the instant it takes to put us in, and would wake soon after being taken out.

That's true!
Rame thought, surprised.

The spy does not know that. He thinks we will have to walk together down the route the elves told you, and he has a spell to nullify the boots. You must go alone, and take a different route.

But that will take much longer!

Only till dawn. Then you can use the boots to full effect, and soon be there.

True,
Rame agreed.
Is the spy watching now?

No. He plans to rouse at midnight to set his trap for us, and deliver us to Nefarious without the elves' knowledge.

Then I will go pipe Vidav into the whistle, and return for you. Keep me informed if the spy wakes.

I shall.

Rame got up quietly and left the house. Seth and Tirsa lay where they were, eyes closed, holding hands.

You are some woman!
Seth thought appreciatively.

Do not state the obvious.
But she gave his hand a squeeze.

Soon Rame returned.
Will the spy hear if I play here?

Not if it is not loud.

Here is the herb.
Rame handed each of them some hard little berries.

They took them and chewed them up. Seth wondered how long/

/it would take to—but the air had changed. It was now cool and dank.

Seth found Tirsa's hand in his. She remained asleep; she had taken her dose after him, so would recover later, if it had the same effect on her. It might have more of an effect, because she was smaller than he.

It seemed to be about midmorning, and they were beside a foul river. No—it was a grimy moat, for there was a decrepit castle on the other side. The wizard's castle! He sat up for a better look.

"Ah, they wake," Rame said from behind. He and Vidav were standing, evidently surveying the situation.

"Why didn't you take us on inside the castle?" Seth asked, shaking clear the last wisps of fog left over from his unconsciousness. Now Tirsa was stirring, and he took her hand again and squeezed it.

"The wizard wouldn't let me in," Rame said. "I called, and said I represented the Chosen, and needed help, and he called back 'Go away!' I never even saw him; he was just a voice."

"The elves said he might not choose to help us," Seth said. "They must have had experience with him."

While they talked, Tirsa had recovered. "Perhaps I can get through to him." Then she concentrated, and they heard her mental call:
Wizard! We must meet with you!

There was an impression of someone's jaw dropping.
Who calls me?

We are the Chosen, sent by the Teuton Emperor to nullify Nefarious. But we have suffered by the attack of Nefarious's minions, and need your help.

Show yourself!

We are standing outside your moat.

There is only a satyr there, a creature of mischief; I know the kind. Desist with your tricks; I'll have none of them.

Then I will show myself mentally,
she responded. She sent a thought of such complexity that Seth was amazed; it incorporated her origin on another Earth plane, and her assignment as one of the Chosen, and her presence here before the old castle. It was as if she had thrown off her cloak and stood naked, only more so, for she valued her mind more than her body.

Enough, woman!
the wizard replied.
I believe you! No creature of this plane possesses such power of the mind except Nefarious, and his is not that type!

A few minutes later the drawbridge was cranked slowly down, and they crossed to the castle. There they were met by a wizened man, old and stooped. "I am Rightwos, once a wizard of repute, deposed long ago by Nefarious and reduced to this state," he said. "His minions still pass by, tormenting me with idle atrocities, apparently just for amusement. I thought the satyr was of that number."

Seth saw Tirsa glance at her medallion. It remained bright. The wizard wasn't lying.

"I am not of that type," Rame said. "But I comprehend your concern. I left my kind because of their attitude, and now consider myself to be a faun. I should have realized that you would have had cause to distrust satyrs."

Quickly they explained their situation, and Vidav's problem.

"My powers are diminished," Rightwos said. "Age and the injury done me by Nefarious have left me with more memories than actual magic. But I can still do some things adequately if not well. I may be able to help your friend—but the way available to me is not one you may wish to use."

"If it restores my strength, I'll use it!" Vidav said.

"It is the firewalk."

Vidav paled. "I don't like fire."

"Neither do I," Rightwos said. "But it retains its elemental power, and this we need. Neither the Sateons nor their poisons can stand up to it. Magic fire is that much more potent against their works. You must walk through the enchanted fire to which I will take you, and conquer it, and in so doing you will abolish all the evil done you by the Sateon poison. It is the only way."

Vidav looked as if he were about to faint. "I can but try," he said tightly.

"The site is not far from the castle," Rightwos said. "I will show you the way." He walked briskly enough, but the others had to mince their steps to prevent the magic boots from carrying them far ahead.

They came to what looked like an ancient volcano crater. The floor of it was level, but smoke vented from crevices, and it looked dangerous. In the center was a continuous jet that reminded Seth of a gigantic upward-pointing blowtorch. The heated air shimmered around the translucent fire.

"That is the curative flame," Rightwos said. "Ordinarily it would burn you, but my spell will enable you to survive it. The legacy of the Sateon poison will not." He gestured, and a cloud formed around Vidav, quickly dissipating. "You have but to walk into it, and stand until its color returns to normal. At that point your strength will return. But I must warn you that though it will not harm your flesh, it will hurt exactly as if it is destroying you. My magic is no longer strong enough to shield you from the pain, only the actual damage."

Vidav swallowed. He started walking toward the flame. It was strange, seeing the man so nervous, but Seth thought of his own recent fear of water and ice, and knew what his friend was feeling. When a thing kills you, he realized, you do tend to be wary of it.

The others followed, unable to help their friend in this particular thing. No one else could do it for him.

Then Seth noticed that the tassel on his sword was darkening. "Um, I think there is danger—"

There was a burning hissing sound behind them. "Curses!" the wizard exclaimed. "Firefish!"

"What?" Tirsa asked, turning to look. Seth did also. He saw a streamer of fire extending across the edge of the crater, but it seemed to have no origin.

"Another of Nefarious's nuisances! They can't cross my moat, but now they've trapped me in the open. This is going to be difficult."

"What are firefish?" Seth asked, alarmed. All he saw was the extending line of fire. It had ringed them already, and now was thickening toward them.

"They are demon fish that swim through air and squirt fire from their mouths," Rightwos explained. "They feed by burning their prey; they absorb the nutrient smoke and fumes. Fortunately they are readily stopped, for they cannot tolerate water."

"Great!" Seth said. "Where's the nearest water?"

"In the moat."

And the firefish had just cut them off from the moat. The crater, of course, was completely dry.

"Rame!" Tirsa exclaimed. "Can you conjure water?"

"Yes, I did to counter the witch-women's flames," the faun replied. "But I can't bring enough to do much, and it would only fall at our feet."

"A jug of it."

"A jug of it," Rame agreed. He put his whistle to his mouth, and in a moment had a narrow-necked crockery-jug.

Seth took the jug and pulled out its stopper. A fine stream of cool water poured out. He advanced on the ring of fire, but it did not retreat. Maybe the firefish didn't believe the jug really contained water.

He swung the jug, and a thin stream of water emerged. It sailed out to intersect the ring—and fell through it without much more effect than a small hiss of steam.

The ring of fire did not break; it healed over as fast as the water passed. "You aren't accomplishing anything," the wizard said. "The fish form the ring by squirting fire continuously; when one squirt ends, another squirt begins, from another fish. Your water cut through a fire-squirt, but those are constantly being replenished anyway. You have to score on the fish themselves to be effective, and they are adept at dodging. A body of continuous water, like a lake or a moat, is a perfect barrier, because the water's effect extends above and below for some distance. But a splash just isn't enough."

"Maybe if we made a temporary moat," Tirsa suggested. "A channel of water in a circle, and we could stand inside."

"That would take time, and a lot of water," Seth pointed out. "We'd have to pour it out bottle by bottle, or splash by splash, and it might sink into the hot ground or evaporate before we completed the job. Meanwhile, those fish are closing fast." Indeed, they had to keep walking toward the central column of fire, to avoid the closing circle.

If Vidav had been nervous before, he was highly agitated now. His eyes flicked between one fire and the other. His hands shook. There was sweat shining on his face, though the heat of the fires had not yet affected their party. "Trapped!" he muttered.

"Come on," Tirsa said. "I'll scoop out a channel, and Rame can conjure more jugs of water. It may hold them off until we can figure out something better. Perhaps rain will come."

"No good," Rightwos said. "They can't cross even a small moat, but they can fire across it for a meter or more. We would have to make a large circle to get out of their range. We have neither the time nor the water."

"I could excavate a big channel in time," Vidav said. "If I had my strength."

"You can have your strength, if you step into that curative flame," Rightwos pointed out.

Vidav gazed at it. They were now quite close, and its heat prevented a nearer approach. "I can't!"

"I'll do it!" Seth cried. "Enchant me so that my flesh can withstand it, and I'll—"

"No. I exhausted my limited power for that enchantment when I did your friend," the wizard said. "In any event, you are not ill; you have no great strength to recover. The curative fire would not change you."

Seth realized it was true. He had been impetuous again, to no purpose.

"But maybe the woman can help," Rightwos said. "If she links your minds, the foolish courage of the one may transfer to the other."

Immediately they were linked.
Draw from us, Vidav!
Tirsa thought.
We will face the fire with you.

Seth felt Vidav's agony of spirit. The memory of the flames that had killed him overlaid the current scene. He felt the remembered pain, and knew that the fire was going to kill him. He couldn't face that again!

Seth had a healthy respect for fire, but it hadn't killed him. Ice had. He could face the flame, knowing that an enchantment protected his body from real harm, if not from the sensation of harm.
I will take that walk with you, in your mind,
he thought.

Tirsa feared the deep earth, though not as much as she had. She too could face the fire.
I will too,
she thought.

Rame feared the air, the power of storm, but not fire.
I too!
he thought.

Don't leave me behind!
Rightwos thought.
This may not be magic, but your mental contact is a wonderful thing.

I know that the fire will give you pain and restoration. You may not believe, but I do. I will face that pain with you.

Behind them the firefish closed in, constricting their ring. Now the heat was both front and back; there was no escape.

If it's a choice between fires, I'll take the clean one!
Vidav thought, gaining courage from their support. He leaped into the central column.

The fire surrounded him, burning away his clothing in a moment and cutting through the skin. Horrible pain flared all around his body. His skin cracked, his eyes glazed, and an inferno roared into his lungs.

Involuntarily, he tried to jump out.
No!
Seth thought, though he was hurting the same way, and wanted desperately to escape it.
We must stay and conquer it!

Stay!
Tirsa echoed, though her hair was frizzing and burning.

Stay!
Rame agreed, though his hoofs were melting.

Stay!
Rightwos thought, his beard turning to ash.

Vidav stayed. The fire passed through his skin and into his underlying tissue, making every muscle knot. It ate into his internal organs, giving him the worst possible sickness. It consumed his brain, causing explosive hallucinations. Finally it ground through his bones, turning them to seeming charcoal.

Then the pain faded. Vidav stood whole and invulnerable within the column of flame, and his strength was back. He was naked but exultant.

But we are frying!
Seth thought, for though he stood outside the column, the fire ring was close at his back, burning him. It was the same for the others; they had nowhere to go. It was also too late for any moat; there was no room for it.

Vidav leaped out of the column. He picked up the jug of water. He tossed it into the air, and as it came down, he clapped his two hands into it, on either side.

The jug was smashed inward. The water in it exploded. A spray of it flung up and down and outward, drenching them all and saturating the close ring of firefish.

There was a soundless scream. Suddenly the fish were gone, and the ring of fire flickered out. The explosion of water had caught the fish by surprise, and if it hadn't killed them, it had certainly dismayed them and broken their concentration. There was no chance for them to form a new ring before their prey escaped.