That last chapter wasn't very good, was it? -wilts- I read thru it afterwards and found, like, ten million skadillion typos!!! Also, it was kinda boring. Sowwy abowt dat, and for taking so long writing this chapter…
DISCLAIMER: "Abhorsen", all names, places, and related indicia are the sole property of Garth Nix, whose work I hold in great admiration. The Ulseil brothers belong to Phil—erm, that is, Phyllis Nodrey. ; Orkaire belongs to me, too.
CHAPTER EIGHT: Ice
That afternoon…
Sidhegureth knew he was asking for trouble not having spoken to his younger brother about his plans, but it seemed—after weighing the pros and cons—the best possible way to do it. Now he was having second thoughts.
He supposed some horribly intimidated lackey had revealed to Gwidhe the Captain's whereabouts. The Wing Commander barreled into the cockpit, startling the pilot so that Sidhegureth had never been so grateful that they had already landed.
"What the hell are we doing here? Your orders were to get us to the Clayr's Glacier posthaste, dammit, not make stops at anonymous islands within a hundred miles of that Charter-blasted capital Belisaere!"
Sidhegureth kept his face composed under the eyes of the unnerved pilot and, more importantly, his fuming brother. "Calm yourself, Lord Gwidhe," he said in an even voice. "We are merely putting in for provisions."
"Provisions," Gwidhe practically spat. "Huh. For some reason I don't believe you. Who's to bring the supplies, Captain?"
"A regular merchant from Calwyar."
Gwidhe's eyes narrowed. "That sounds too…questionable."
Sidhegureth looked him in the eye. "I'm not one to guess what your doubts are, brother, but I assure you, we are all patriots aboard this ship." He paused, then added, "Are we not?"
"Whatever." Gwidhe spun, a hand on the door. "Then again, I would very much like to meet this 'regular merchant' of yours."
.
Sidhegureth pointedly avoided looking at his brother's face when they met the 'merchant'. A merchant's ship was anchored at the bay and a motley crew of men were unloading and carrying things up to the Cruzada.
"Captain Kemilo," Sidhegureth saluted the man stepping down the gangplank.
"Hardly a captain when in the presence of yourself, Lord Gureth." The merchant captain swept a bow that Gwidhe decided was either too friendly or altogether mocking. And the man had just addressed his brother as 'Gureth'! The nerve…
Kemilo wasn't quite your image of a well to do merchant. A pirate was closer to the mark. His very wavy, shoulder-length ash-blond hair was more than a bit unruly and his clothes, while clean, could never be described as prim and proper. A scimitar of all weapons hung at his belt. One could easily see the Charter marks running along the blade because it was without a sheath. As if to complete the picture, the man even sported a black patch over his left eye.
"This is my younger brother, Lord Gwidhe, Wing Commander of the Citadel Fleet." Sidhegureth introduced to Kemilo, as was proper. Gwidhe frowned. It seemed his brother had intentionally stressed his title; the merchant captain's brow had jumped a little upon hearing it.
Kemilo bowed again to Gwidhe, who returned with a curt nod. After a while of polite exchanges between the merchant and his brother, Gwidhe decided that there was nothing too terribly shifty about the man.
"If you would kindly excuse me, I'll be returning to my rooms," Gwidhe said, turning on his heel and striding back to the Cruzada.
.
Kemilo carried the small talk until Gwidhe had disappeared into the silver ship.
"I cannot thank you enough for coming out of your way to meet me, Milo," Sidhegureth said gravely.
"It's not a problem," Kemilo told him with a careless smile. "Let's talk in my cabin, shall we? Though I suppose if your little brother's really all that they say he is, he'd send a few floatin' fireballs our way and end the crusade before it's started."
"Hush," Sidhegureth said needlessly. He followed the 'merchant' captain to his ship.
.
Little could be said of Kemilo's living quarters, but if anything, that it was the polar opposite of Sidhegureth's would suffice. Sidhegureth sat down on a simple wooden chair while Kemilo plopped down on a bed made of a worn mattress and various dull-colored cushions.
"I don't recall you tellin' me why exactly Uncle Sulumor decided to drag you into this mess," Kemilo started.
"No one dragged me into this mess—I took the initiative to begin this tiny movement, remember?" Sidhegureth said coolly.
Kemilo laughed grimly. "Yeah, I know that, and I'm not questionin' you, m'lord Gureth. Me and my men, we'll follow you the whole way through. What I'm askin' is, why did Prince Sulumor decide he wanted you to join his…task force?"
"He didn't say, and I knew better to ask." Sidhegureth heaved a heavy sigh, studying his hands folded in his lap. "You don't know what a fright he gave me when he gave me the order. I thought…perhaps we'd been discovered."
"And what if we are? You think we really make that much of a difference, Gureth? Can a pack of rebels stop the whole world fallin' down around their heads?"
"Do you, Kemilo?"
"I don't know, cap'n, I don't know. But it's worth a try."
"That's what I think." Sidhegureth looked up at his comrade through the long, pale locks framing his face. The shadows made him look grave. "I only know that I'm not being selfish, and that we're doing the right thing."
There was a moment of silence, then Kemilo peered out through the window and said, "My men are nearly done unloadin'; you'd better let me in on the next step."
Sidhegureth nodded. "Alright. I'll be in the Glaciers this time tomorrow, with the Citadel. You need to take your ship…"
---
Dawn came bright and bitterly cold, streaks of the palest pink creeping with painful slowness across the sky. It was summertime, but up on the highest peak where the wind never ceased in its dirge, the glaciers didn't acknowledge the idea of summer.
[Gack. Was that just hideously poetic or what?]
Then the sun rose and shone down on the ice, throwing off brilliant rays of purest light. The Lechuza Cruzada coasted, a blinding mass of silver.
The ship then descended slowly into a shallow vale. It remained there, waiting.
.
"That's out of the question!" Gwidhe said sharply.
They were standing in the hallway—Gwidhe, Kagael, and Captain Sidhegureth. Kagael had, being her usual irrational self, wanted to go outside 'for fresh air'.
"It shouldn't be a problem if you bundle up," Sidhegureth said quietly. "Here, there's some thick coats I keep in the storage room, and boots."
"Thank you," Kagael said brightly.
"Fine," Gwidhe said, walking past them. "I won't argue with you. But if she meets her death out there, I'll be sure to let Noegduch know who to blame."
Kagael watched him go, slightly demoralized.
Sidhegureth half-closed his eyes, a faint smile on his lips. Whether it was because exasperation or that he found Gwidhe's attitude amusing, Kagael could not tell.
"You will be careful," he said as he led her down to the storeroom. It was not a question.
.
Kynned stood shivering in the compartment as the hatch slid shut. Kagael called a quick thanks, then turned away so that she would not be looking at the blinding silver surface of the ship. She was wearing goggles with lenses of smoked green glass, but although it protected her eyes from much of the snow's glare, it was still too bright to look at the sun reflecting off the silver.
The air outside was so cold it burned Kagael's lungs. But it felt good to be breathing out in the open rather than…than trapped inside the Cruzada. Kagael walked away from the ship, over towards a snowdrift that the wind had hardened into a frozen mound. The snow underfoot was hard and compact and Kagael moved steadily along.
Kagael had never liked snow much. She couldn't quite explain it past the fact that it just seemed to cover everything up. The snow marked a season that bled the warmth and color from the land. But up here in the Glaciers, she didn't suppose there was any color or warmth any time of the year.
She stopped, staring at the ground.
It was a hoof print, perfectly formed and not that deeply imprinted into the white ground. And even as she stared at it, the print vanished. Kagael blinked. There was more, a whole line of them leading slightly forward and to the right of her. Kagael took it to her head to follow them, and quick, for even as she watched, the ones closest to her were disappearing.
She walked, carefully but speedily across the snow. Her boots crunched slightly as they broke through the crusty hard surface.
A gust of wind hit her in the face then. It smelled of new leaves and forest-filtered sunlight, carrying a hint of the dampness around a woodland pool, and even as it warmed her cheeks the wind seemed to fill her eyes with stars. Kagael shook her head, apprehensive. What was that smell? It was like that of a Stilken's, but different.
The stars and the cloudiness left her vision as simply as the hoof prints had disappeared. Kagael looked up, and swallowed hard. She was hallucinating, or dreaming. She had to be.
The creature stared back at her with eyes deeper than the sea, eyes that were blue and silver at once and as cold as midwinter's breath even as they flowed and crackled with Free Magic. Its pale mane made the snow look dark, and its horn shamed fire with its brilliance and luster. The creature was tall and slender; the top of Kagael's head reached its shoulder. It moved with a liquid grace akin to that of sea foam, and when it opened its mouth, the sound it emitted was a songlike moan that made her think of the sea.
Kagael wiped a gloved hand across her eyes; the tears that had gathered there were not from the wind.
Abruptly, the magnificent creature turned and bounded away into the snow, leaving behind a fleeting trail of hoof prints.
"Wait!" Kagael choked, a cry that was wrenched out of her. But it was gone, along with the spring scent. Only the metallic tang of Free Magic remained, mockingly. Stubbornly, Kagael started in the direction that the strange beast had vanished into the snow.
She had to be dreaming, for now she stared at a grove of blue trees.
The air was alive, and even though it was the sparkling heat of Free Magic, Kagael could forget that. She wasted no time in going forward, pulling her scarf down away from her chin. Her boots left the hard snow and met the strange floor of the blue wood with a soft fmp—
—and she was thrown back several feet onto the ice. No sooner had she gotten to her feet did the force hurl her up and back again. Kagael landed, winded. Gasping, she levered herself up with her arms and her eyes grew wide.
Why was she seeing these things?!
It was…a…dragon…its silver scales a shifting mass of blinding light, throwing off the sun like the many facets of a diamond. It regarded her with eyes that, like the eyes of the beautiful horned beast, were far too wise to be animal or human. The dragon-creature put Kagael in mind of a mountain, but its grace… Kagael had never witnessed a mountain moving, but if there could be anything more emotive…or so terribly frightening.
The dragon raised a claw as though in greeting, and that claw was so huge that Kagael could have sat in it without a problem. She…she…heard the air cough, and found herself hurled up and suspended in the air.
The air around her began to solidify, began freezing into ice. Kagael panicked, even as Gwidhe's shield suddenly vanished and the Charter flooded back into her mind. She grabbed for marks of melting and burning and striking, and they flew out accordingly, striking the thin but thickening wall of ice. In the beginning it worked quite well, and Kagael formed a chain of thawing spells and bound them with a master mark. But then she hurled it at the ever-present wall of ice…
It was like in her dream back at the house. The marks corroded, one after another. They evaporated into the very air.
Man.
Kagael jolted, physically and spiritually.
Mage.
"What?!" Kagael screamed with her voice and her mind. "What is it? Stop this! Please!"
My home. My home.
"What?" Kagael cried. "I don't know what you mean! Please let me go!"
Restore me.
Kagael was so cold now that it hurt, and she could barely breathe. 'I…I can't do what you ask…' she thought, not being able to speak any more. 'Let me…go…or I…will die…'
Die…
The voice held question; the word echoed on, on, and on. Kagael gasped for air. Terror gripped her heart like a vice even as the cold gripped her body, tightly.
Man…. Mage… knows nothing of the White Lady… and nothing of…
The ice around her seemed to soften. 'Thank you…' Kagael whimpered, wanting it too badly to consider the softening might be due to her imagination.
The dragon seemed taken aback by this.
All of a sudden, Kagael fell to the ground with a crunch of snow. Confused, she peered up towards the dragon, just in time to see it fluidly shift its bulk to avoid a ball of flame rolling across the air. The fireball collided with the snowdrift and it disappeared in a hiss of steam.
"Kagael! Get behind me!"
"Gwidhe?" Kagael scrambled to her feet.
Gwidhe stood out on the snow in full battle attire, complete with red-enameled metal armor plates. His hands, or rather the black leather gloves were covered in globes of flame. The fires grew—he joined them—and cast the Free Magic inferno at the silver dragon.
I am merciful.
Having made that known, the dragon stepped straight into the path of the fireball. Its scales consumed it. It barely flinched.
Gwidhe's claret eyes widened. Kagael dove behind him as a shower of ice flew their way. Fire engulfed Gwidhe's entire body like a shield and protected him from the frozen blades, acting much like an arrow ward.
Kagael reached into the Charter and pulled forth the brightest marks of flame and attack. She hadn't been taught any chains like this, but she improvised, hoping for the best, and sealed it with the master mark for thawing. She cast the seething spell up and over Gwidhe's flames and at the dragon.
Gwidhe drew his rapier; a wreath of flames danced around the Charter sword. He used it as a sort of channel for his fireball spell, and, stepping forward, performed a thrust that sent the Free Magic as well as waves of Charter flame slicing forward, left, and right through the air.
The Free Magic did nothing to the dragon, but the Charter shattered its scales. Kagael's unrehearsed spell followed, trailing the many marks of the chain like a comet's tail. The Charter spell glanced off the sides of the dragon, but the scales it touched began to melt.
I am merciful.
The dragon turned and the air shimmered, rippled. It was a large patch of air and it seemed to seethe and swell like a boiling liquid. Then the air exploded and the dragon was gone.
Cold and warm rushed over and into Kagael at once and she fell against Gwidhe's back. He spun and gripped her upper arm, steadying her.
"What in the world did you do out here?" Gwidhe demanded. "Where did the dragon come from and how did you break my pitfall barrier?"
"I don't know," Kagael said honestly. Her voice was scratchy from casting the marks and her throat felt tight and aching from the cold. Her whole body felt like it'd been frozen and suddenly thawed. Well, it had. "I don't know." She bit her lip to stop it trembling. "But please don't take the Charter away now..."
His grip loosened slightly. "I won't."
Kagael found herself bombarded by Charter marks of warmth. She flinched slightly, but was grateful for them. "Thank you," she said.
Gwidhe gave her a slight push in the direction of the Cruzada. "I knew it was a bad idea to let you come out here. You should've listened to me."
"Sorry."
"Hurry it up."
Kynned had been watching for their return. He opened the hatch and let them in. Mihir was there as well, looking anxious.
"Gwidhe!" he exclaimed as they stepped out into the hallway. "What was that?"
"One of the Lord Prince's entities, loose. I'd thought at first it might be something from the bloody Clayrs' Library, but they definitely could not have had something that…big."
"You defeated it?" Mihir said expectantly.
Gwidhe snorted. "I barely nicked it. It was feeling merciful, and left on its own, but not before it tried to freeze Kagael into a block of ice."
Mihir's eyes widened with shock. "What was it?"
"The books call it dragon. Big, silver-armored beast." Gwidhe sighed noisily. "Don't ask me to describe it—I've got an almighty headache."
"Oh, erm, right."
Mihir looked at Kagael, who was pale and shivering. "Lunch's ready," he said as if on inspiration. "I was helping out in the galley, and I cooked something special…?"
Gwidhe gave him a sketch of a smile.
"I…think I'd like a nap," Kagael said. It came out in a hoarse whisper.
"I'll walk you up," Gwidhe said. "In case you pass out on the way 'cause it looks like that's just what you might do."
Kagael nodded and followed him up the stairs. She went into her room and sat down on the bed. She tossed her coat, scarf, goggles, gloves, and extra leggings in a pile on the chair. Gwidhe went to get her pillow and blankets from his room.
When Gwidhe returned Kagael had fallen asleep. "Why me…" he muttered, tossing her covers over her. He lifted her head and slid her pillow into place before setting her back down.
Gwidhe yanked off his gloves with his teeth and stepped out into the hall. He was going to have lunch with his brother and they were going to have a talk. And Gwidhe was going to do most of the talking, and possibly a great deal of swearing. Because stupid inconveniences like the one this morning could only be allowed by incompetent fools.
---
A menacing body of dark cloud loomed over the Lechuza Cruzada, blotting out the sun. Slowly, calculatedly, wisps of levitation magic dispersed and the hulking mass of the Citadel descended into the valley. It hung, suspended just above the silver ship.
Like so much… …waiting.
O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O
Author's Note: Someone asked me how in the world I came up with such a weird name as 'Gwidhe'. Heehee. This is how— Hedwig… gedwih… gidweh… giwdeh… gwideh… gwidhe!
When I started this story, I planned for Gwidhe to be an evil psycho like his dad and was thinking I should scramble up the name 'Hedge'. That proved too hard to do, so I decided to scramble up the name 'Hedwig'. (Which, btw, if ur interested, means 'goddess of war')
You're welcome to ask questions in your reviews because (1) I like answering questions; 'tis fun and (2) I don't get many reviews so I can answer them all with no problem.
Next: Kagael will meet the evil mastermind behind the horrifying plan to unravel the Charter. A strange and wonderful secret will be revealed to her…but is it really as wonderful as it seems? Kagy'll also meet some others like herself who have copious amounts of Free Magic in their blood. But what part are they to play? Stick around and have patience! I can only type an average of 50 wpm, ya know. (I hit 89 wpm once…and never did again -sigh-)