Ice and Fury
By B.M. Walker
They say that in all the Realms, that never has there been a wizard who can catch a wink of sleep without returning to their task once more. Malanon, a wizard, was not an exception to this.
The room, filled with tomes of various arcane experiments of the man and more than a few magical items, was quiet save for the frantic scribbling of a quill hard at work against a parchment. This quickly subsided as the mage's temperament grew thinner by the hour.
In a fit of rage, Malanon took the parchments and flung them across the room. The mage had only done this about forty-two times today.
"Damnation!" the frustrated wizard fumed. "How in the name of Mystra can anyone comprehend this rubbish?" He slowly stood up and stretched out his sore limbs that had been in the painful position for half the night into the early morning.
Songbirds twilled from outside. How Malanon needed a break from the tediousness of all of it! He stood there for a few minutes basking in the bright sunlight from the one window that provided light to the tower's study where the mage spent a large portion of his time. Almost without thinking, he exited the tower and decided to take a walk into the forest around his home.
Malanon instantly felt a great deal of the weight lift as he stepped out the door. The forest was alive!
The crisp cool air did little to comfort him in his weary state though the sight of two squirrels dutifully scavenging for food brought a weak smile to his wrinkled face.
It had been two busy days since the last of his apprentice's set off for the great Hosttower in Luskan. Malanon never asked why he had to go there assuming it had something to do with the boy's need to be closer to his equally insufferable father who presided over the East spire of the tower. A tower completely built by magic is what was said throughout the known parts of the Sword Coast, leaving the poor mage with a large list of enchantments needed by his customers.
The list was lengthy.
Ranging from wealthy noblemen needing a charm enchantment (Sune knows they wouldn't be able to charm their spouse otherwise), to the more unscrupulous clientele needing more items than the mage had in stock. The fine young lads at the Shadow Thieves Guild in Baldur's Gate especially. Many times on separate occasions had the wealthy guildmasters come to the mage for assistance.
To the depths of the Abyss with the lot of them, he mused.
It was winter in the realms. It's white veil was all around him snow blanketing the ground, nearly several feet since the last snowfall of the previous week, now was twice that amount due to the overnight blizzard in the region. The trees themselves stood rigid covered with a thick outer shell of ice that at the right angle caught the peaking sunrise for a spectacular show of wintry magic.
Similar works of art appeared from the corner of the old man's sharp eye. A large oak stood tall rising high into the air, though his mind was still on his work, sent the old man's heart soaring. Icicles hung precariously from the many branches that shot out from the huge tree, with enough weight on some branches to send them crashing down as the temperature slowly climbed. There would be more precipitation as the day ended.
Shafts of sunlight beamed down on to the forest floor, highlighting the scrambling fauna as they prepared for another cold day. Millions of thoughts of winter circled Malanon's mind.
A winter that only Auril could bring. The Aurilite priest in Glister was right in saying that he should "beware Auril, come winter". However the priest was wrong about the prices for herbs though, and the distrustful mage decided to never spend his gold in that particular temple again. Those were his inhibitions; his own inner wisdom shining through. Even through all the many years he had lived, there still was a profundity about it all. Where did it all come together? Walking down the steps of his ancient tower, Malanon, the world-weary mage, pressed on.
The sunrise invaded the region for only an instant as a large ship carrying cargo made its way to port. Then in an instant that same sunrise was blanketed by cloud cover as the skies turned gray and a great wind pushed the ship further off course. Snow and hail pelted the men desperately trying to batten it down. The wind continued to blow and the snow continued to fall, further hampering the ship.
In a tiny globe of ice a pair of cold icy eyes peered at the doomed ship with glee.
A wave caused by the powerful winds tore the mizzenmast off of the ship sending the crew scrambling to do repairs.
Winter once more was in her control.
A beautiful woman in blue with white trim viewed it all from the safety of the place she called home. Heart's Fury. Silently approving of it all, and openly laughing as one more fool died in the frigid waters.
She was Auril, goddess of Cold and Winter. All of the elements of winter were by her whims and she held dominion over her element mercilessly. The scrying globe then projected another image of her work in progress. Her blue pale features formed a wicked smile as she watched a group of children playing around a frozen lake when suddenly she was aware of the feeling of warmth in the room.
"Your timing is poor, Flake," threatened the Icemaiden. "An entire millennia has surely passed in your absence." She didn't have to turn to notice she was no longer alone in her summoning chambers. Her two pet winter wolves, Whitefang and Wintermaw lay at her feet, accepting her icy fingers across their nuzzling faces.
"It seems that winter has come to the Realms quite early, Lady Cold." stammered Flake. A diminutive human male, Flake barely came close to reaching five feet. His hair was snowy blonde almost white and short. He had a clumsy demeanor that only could be explained by a tragic birth. He wore a blue robe trimmed with white lawn this day, with the telling marks of one in service as an Icepriest of Auril. His hands seemed to have a mind of their own with every encounter with the goddess for he was but a mere mortal; a pawn.
Seeing Auril nodding, feigning interest, he continued. "Several of the barbarian tribes have already left the tundra, once more on the move." Auril was not surprised. Given the nature of the nomadic peoples. Though her plans would be more difficult to execute without the sheer ferocity of the barbarians of the Tribe of the Winter Wolf.
She quickly dismissed her anxiety about the news and continued to tolerate the nervous lackeys ramblings.
Auril uninterestingly tapped her slender icicle-like fingers across the table she had always been a most impatient one.
"Your "useful" information grows old," Auril snapped. "If I would have anticipated having to suffer through your boring report, I would have simply not given you a chance to return to my side. Have you already forgotten who rescued you from your own mistake? Now, I desire no more from you. Leave me."
The small human tried to find some composure but still felt awkward at being dismissed so early by his mistress. He glanced longingly at her beautiful face – icily frozen in a scowl - obviously expecting some form of compensation for his information. The cold glare that she threw over him changed his mind and he left in a huff.
No longer concerned about the foolish mortal, looked once more to her globe. A light dusting of snow had begun to fall and children were already at play. One turned around in circles while the other pushed him in the snow. How gaily the children played in her rightful realm! Auril scowled disapprovingly at the small moving images in the globe. Unexpectantly, she turned her scrying globe around to once more perceive the previous images of the ship. Two humans worked tirelessly on a large ship that had just come into port from the blizzard. Auril was impressed. Not only did the ship sustain minimal damages, but the men on the ship seemed to have survived the conditions. Although a few of the ship's crew had gotten frostbitten when the unusual weather had hit. One had died in the cold waters of the Innersea. A woman was crying holding a small boy over her shoulder as the captain told her the fate of her husband. Auril smiled approvingly. Her bluish demeanor improved considerably as she enjoyed an evil laugh at the dead sailor's expense.