The Ice Storm

Chapter Six

"Wolf, tell me what you know of dragons. You know, the stuff you learned as a child". The question, from Virginia, did not really surprise Wolf when she spoke it. It was evening, darker than usual as the moon was covered once again with heavy clouds. Most of the castle was already abed, those without the comfort of mattresses bunking down wherever they could. More and more common folk were arriving at the gates every day now. Cold, hungry and dispirited from the unseasonal cold. Folk who should have been enjoying the harvest season, laying in food and supplies before the winter, and now driven out of their homes and farms. Traditionally, the Castle White, and other's still occupied throughout the Kingdom provided shelter for anyone who needed it during the hard times. No one was ever turned away, but even now the palace was almost at it's mid-winter capacity. To Wolf's sharp ears, the place thrummed with life and noise. No wolf folk had turned up at the gates yet though, he smiled with secret pride at his people's hardiness. He wondered how he would feel if they did. It had been bad enough to have the stranger wolf, and that was before he had attacked Virginia in any case! Virginia nudged him in the ribs and he turned to smile at her. She was naked under their covers, but here she was, still badgering him with talk! Wolf sighed goodnaturedly. Cripes, didn't the woman know how distracting she was?

"Sorry dearest" he said, kissing her brow. "Now, what were we talking about?"

"Dragons, Wolf"

"Ah yes. Well, this is what my mother taught me" Wolf sat up and tried to mimick the gently exasperated expression that his mother often wore when she was trying to teach her wayward cubs, when all they wanted to do was to go out and chase things. "Hmm, well, dragons are the eldest of races in the Kingdoms. Some say that they were here long before man and wolf kind, even elf folk have no records of them suddenly appearing. In olden times, men and dragons were on friendly terms. Dragons only took what was needful for them, and their presence in a land often provided a deterrent to the other enemies of man, such as giants, trolls and ogres. Then the dwarves discovered quick-silver, of which they could fashion the magic mirrors and other tools. It was purely by accident that the male dragons became aware of the presence of quick-silver, and they quickly became addicted to it..."

"Only the males?"

"Yes. No one knows why only them and not the females, but with it the male dragons became larger, more powerful, more aggressive. The sought quick-silver wherever they could and made many raids on the dwarf Kingdom. Now, at that time, many magic mirrors were being produced, and everyone wanted one, man, elf and dwarf alike. So when the incessant raiding and consumption by the dragons threatened to halt the production of the magical tools, the other races in the Kingdoms started to look upon the dragons with unfriendly eyes. Soon, the Kings and leaders everywhere were urging their bravest and strongest warriors to drive out the dragons. Dragons are strong, and powerful with magic, and many men perished. But the dragons were always few, and slow to breed, and men were many. Slowly, over the generations, the dragon folk were exterminated, but not before they had sapped nearly the entire dwarf reserves of quick-silver. That is why no magic mirrors have been made for many years"

"Excepting Wendell's Coronation gift"

"Yes. Anyway, the last male dragon was killed some fifty years before the rise of the Great Women and the formation of the Kingdoms as we know them today"

"The last? There were no more?"

"None that have been seen. Of course, there's always the rumours here and there. Occasional eggs are found, hidden deep in the earth, but they never hatch out"

"What about the fire breathing part? Or is that just a myth?"

"Oh no, the fire is certainly not a made up tale to frighten grown men with. But I do recall there being some confusion with the old tales about the exact nature of the fire, and when and where a dragon could conjure it"

"And the females? What happened to them?"

"No one knows, Virginia. Certainly they were targets, but in many ways they were considered wiser than their males. Perhaps they simply flew away. I don't know. As a cub, I used to dream of seeing a dragon, you know. Not to hunt or hurt one, cause us wolf's never made war with them, but just to see one. The drawings in my school book were amazing, and you've seen the skeletons yourself, remember?" Wolf said. Looking at Virginia, he could see her eyes roving back and forth as her mind tried to conjure an image of such an immense creature. And Wolf knew, with a sudden certainty, that Virginia needed no picture book illustration. She had seen one. In the pocket of her robe, she had the scale of one, no less. Virginia turned her head to face him, her expression letting him know that he had guessed correctly.

"In Coven Lake, there is a dragon. I saw her when I was coming to the surface, Wolf. A real, live dragon, lying on the bottom. Coventina said to me 'she sleeps, a long time she sleeps'. I wonder just how long, Wolf?"

"More importantly, why did she give you a scale from the dragon? What can it mean? Is it a clue, or was it just some random offering?"

"I wonder what her name is, Wolf. Did the dragon folk have names?"

"Oh yes. In olden days, all the dragons were known by their names. As to your sleeping dragon's name, I've no clue, but there is someone who we've forgotten all about, and who only a few days ago mentioned a dragon's name right out of the blue"

"Who?"

"Alice"

"Ah, of course! She fell into the Lake that night. When Elias was transformed. I'd forgotten all about it. Coventina did warn me not to let anyone enter the water whilst she flooded it, you know. Hmm, I wonder just what that little cub saw? So, she mentioned a name then? What was it?"

"Zaphira"

"Zaphira" Virginia repeated. "Beautiful name. It suits her, Wolf. I wish you could have seen her, just like you wanted to when you were a cub" she continued. She stretched and yawned, and Wolf slipped his hand across to fondle her swelling breasts. As he fell under the intoxicating spell of her blue eyes, he wondered again at how Virginia could still be so innocent of the nature of things in his world. Any child or cub of the Kingdoms could read ahead of this story and foretell what would happen. The knowledge, the evidence, the name and the wish. Was that all one needed to bring a legend to life again? Under her touch, Wolf shivered.

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Tony rubbed at his aching back. Instantly, he had unwanted attention. A Murray stooped to plant a kiss on his posterior. Tony had no idea which Murray it was, and in fact he had taken to calling them all "Murray", though in truth he suspected he could have called them anything and they still would have answered. Mr Murray the original, and his multiplying legions of family members, had lost none of their hypnotic devotion. Now, as he watched them go about their various tasks with that odd, vacant expression, Tony found himself getting more and more spooked. They were like robots. Even the carefully made up Mrs Murray, who Tony had once ogled and planned to buy underwear for was now oddly unattractive. Tony wondered what their conversations were about when he wasn't with them. Did they simply forget and return to their everyday activities? Or did they stand about and mourn the lack of commands from 'the Master'?

They did work like troopers though, he had to admit. In the few hours he had been back in New York, his own personal army had lost no time in following his requests. Standing in his old apartment for the first time in more than a year, Tony stared at the accumulating pile of machinery and reflected on just how weird his life had become. And yet it had been the stink of the city, the rushing crowds, the press of taxi cabs on the road outside that now seemed foreign to him. How had he and Virginia lived here all those years, pretending to be happy to each other, both secretly wanting to be out of this fuming city, and yet both unable to leave it? Both of them, waiting only for her to return. The eventual reunion that Tony had imagined in so many ways had certainly not played out in any way, shape or form that a sane man might hope for.

A dull thud caught his attention. A Murray had dropped something on another Murray's toes. The injured Murray whimpered loudly. Tony felt a ripple of irritation suddenly. He wanted to be clear of this place, and back home in the Fourth Kingdom. But he had a job to do, a job given him by Virginia. And it had been a good idea, he'd thought at the time. Now, he surveyed the mass of equipment and wondered just how he was going to get it across the park and through the portal. He looked at his watch. Well, it was late enough, and dark enough, to try and get at least one through. He gestured to some male Murrays standing by.

"Here now, Murrays, get that crate closed up" he said, having learned from experience to keep his orders simple. When they had nailed the wooden box closed, he told them to see if they could lift the thing. Between four Murray men, they managed to heft the crate high enough. Getting across the street outside and into the park beyond was more tricky. Several people wandering past gave them odd looks, and a couple looked like they were about to call the cops. Tony was reminded suddenly that he was still a wanted criminal. Quickly, he hustled the Murray's and their cargo towards the portal. It shimmered and floated just where he had left it. The crate looked far too wide to pass through the door sized opening, but amazingly the portal seemed to stretch and draw the box forward of it's own voilition. The Murrays gaped in open astonishment as the crate disappeared. Tony snapped his fingers at them.

"Forget you saw this, and tell no one" he ordered brusquely. "Now, whilst I'm away, I want you to continue getting more boxed up and ready to go. I'll be back either tomorrow or the next day, okay?" he added, watching their stupified expressions. He pointed them away from the portal and waited till they were out of sight before stepping through himself. On the other side, an equally confused young guard stood, looking uncertainly at the large wooden box that had suddenly appeared in the mirror room.

"Lord Antony! If I may ask, what is in that box?" the guard stammered. His cheeks were ruddy from the icy air and he stood uncomfortably despite his woollen garments. Tony smiled reassuringly at the young guard. Hopefully he, and everyone else in the castle would be a whole lot warmer, at least.

"It's a little bit of Tenth Kingdom magic, young man. We call it a generator"

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Far to the north, Rhoswen stood before the solid mass from which protruded her source of magic. It was dangerous to come here so soon after her last visit, but things were too variable at the moment. Most of her emmisaries would have reached their targets by now, though it would still be some days before they returned with their tidings. Not that Rhoswen had any doubts about what those responses would be. The other Eight Kingdoms had never submitted to the Ice Kingdom before, and nor would they do so again. Just as Rhoswen herself would not. Knowing she was unobserved, the Princess shivered a little at the boldness of her move against the foreign lands. A plan years in the making, growing to fruition behind the icy barriers that separated her land from the others. Rhoswen pinched her arm to remind herself. It was not her land, no, not at all. She would do well to remember it, lest the true ruler find more than subservience shining out from her blue eyes one day. And yet, that day could be sooner than Rhoswen thought. The Queen, Neva, had been taking longer and longer each day to rise and attire herself. Some days she would not appear before midday. Rhoswen knew the servants gossiped as much as they dared about the Queen's health. They probably chattered about the Princess as well, in truth, though Rhoswen had grown skilled in the pretence of health.

Feeling the now familiar prickling on her skin, Rhoswen approached. Fate, or just ill luck, had combined to make her have to kneel in order to access the power that the ice concealed. Only discovered a few years after Rhoswen had come to live in the palace, the source had remained mostly unchanged over the ensuing time. Rhoswen was one of only a few living souls who knew of it's existence. Neva had wasted no time in 'disposing' of those who had accidently uncovered it. The Queen had been the first to try and tap the power, probably the first to even think of doing such a thing. Rhoswen looked upwards at the massive dark shape enclosed in the thick ice. Depending on the angle one stood, the shape appeared to morph and ripple. A dead thing, perfectly preserved a hundred feet from the surface. There was no way to tell how long the thing had been there. Long before the first foundation stones had been laid on the Ice Palace grounds, no doubt.

Rhoswen's fingers grasped a small sharp ice pick, a miniature version of the common house tool found in every Eighth Kingdom dwelling. Though she did not entirely believe in them, she recited a quick prayer, almost like a mantra of protection that her step mother had taught her. Using the implement, she chivvied open a small wedge in the ice. Dark fluid, thick and slow, dripped down. Rhoswen caught the drops reverentially, holding a small silver basin under the crack. All too soon, the flow stopped. Rhoswen ran a small amount of clear water over the surface, watching as the crack sealed itself with new ice. Lifting the basin carefully, she backed away to sit crosslegged on the floor. Bending over the fluid, she watched it as it steamed and rippled with a life all it's own. It was impossible not inhale the sharp odour, but she waited patiently, ignoring her stinging nostrils and eyes. The fluid, dark and shot through with flashes of silver, settled into a rounded hemisphere. Rhoswen stared avidly at the metallic surface. There was always that moment, when all might go astray and she would see nothing. But today she was determined not to be disappointed. Focussing all her will on the orb, she strove to direct it's power.

"Show me, show me...show me those who would be mine enemy" she whispered. A face came into view, but Rhoswen didn't need to wait for the image to sharpen before she recognized who it was. That woman again. Virginia Lewis. The other woman stood at a window. As she watched, Rhoswen saw her fuss absently with the hair on the back of her neck, no doubt feeling it rise on end but not knowing why. Rhoswen saw her turn to someone else out of view, and smile at them. As she did so, Rhoswen heard her own voice gasp in wonder. She bent closer. Something was wrong with the image of Virginia. But how, and what did it mean? An old memory surfaced, a tale of old once heard as a child. A foretelling more than a story. Rhoswen felt a great rush of excitement at the wavering image. There was no mistake here...only a miracle. A miracle of power. A weapon to be wielded, one that the princess knew instinctively she would need one day if she was to rule this world completely, mankind and beast alike. She felt cold at the thought that she could have so easily destoyed it. Now, she would need to modify things, just a touch.

She wondered if this Virginia knew. Likely she did not. She was not a native of these lands.

A great mass of red fabric filled the orb's view and the Princess cursed a moment as the vision went dark. She sighed loudly. The orb was shrinking now as it always did, evaporating into nothingness. She leant closer, wanting to see if the power would yield anything else. Blue sky flooded the dying orb. Endless sky, looking down onto green fields and valleys. Thoroughly unpleasant scene from Rhoswen's point of view, who preferred always the clean slate of snow, but interesting all the same. The scene in the orb dipped slightly, curving away towards a line of mountains. Rhoswen frowned in thought. What did it mean? Could it be an abberation, as sometimes happened, some other entities visions or dreams?

The silver orb had all but disappeared. Rhoswen used a handful of clean snow to clean out the grey powdery residue left behind. Standing too quickly made her dizzy, so she crouched a minute on the hard floor. The faint light from her lamp cast long shadows against the frozen edifice. Was it her imagination, or had the outline of the thing changed? Rhoswen had stared at it so many times that she was almost sure that it had. Just a fraction. An inch maybe. Impossible, of course. Perhaps she had indeed tapped the source too often, not allowed for the time for her body to cleanse itself of the toxic touch. She rubbed at her temples as she rose once more. All of a sudden, her feet found themselves eager to leave. At the door, she paused to look back. Nothing disturbed the icy still air of the tomb-cell. The stairway seemed to stretch up forever under her hurrying feet.