The Six Stones of Karabraxos
By MySoapBox
With Anna dead and her kingdom under attack, Elsa goes on a quest for artifacts that will drive the threat away, but will that power be her undoing? 20 years post Frozen. Rated T for violence.
Note: This is a work of fanfiction. I get no compensation for my work other than reviews and self satisfaction.
xxooOOooxx
Ismund
Ismund scrambled to his feet. He could feel his blood dripping down his hand and pooling into the fingertips of his glove. The pain and weakness in his wrist made the grip on his sword slick and unsure. "To Queen Elsa," he yelled to his men. "Protect the Queen at all costs!"
Ice blades and snow swirled around them; Elsa's eyes were flashing left and right as she controlled her icy dance of death. Ismund saw the first of his men reach the Queen's side. He rushed to join them, but striking a rock in the road with his boot, his bad knee gave out and he collapsed again to the pavement.
His wrist screamed from catching his weight and he could taste the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. Briefly he closed his eyes, expecting this to be the end, but it wasn't. He looked up and saw the Queen advancing towards him. He could hear the howling, and sudden yelps, of dying death dogs all around him, and more still coming this way.
"Go!" he shouted to the queen. "Leave me!"
The Queen focused on fighting the dogs as she nudged her horse forward to where he lay. The guard flanking her horse ran to Ismund's side with swords and spears at the ready. Ismund got to his feet.
"You shouldn't be here," he growled at the Queen, "Go now! Before we are surrounded by the beasts. The gates are not far."
"Not without the guard," she replied fiercely, shooting ice from her fingertips all the while.
"We are sworn to protect you, not the other way around!"
The Queen looked down at the battered and bloody men surrounding her horse, her eyes landing on him, quickly assessing. Then she raised her arm and conjured a tall trail of spikes in front of them, temporarily blocking the path of the oncoming death dogs.
She turned to him now. "I meant what I said, Captain. No one else is going to die for me. You and your men are in no condition to run and if I turn my back to retreat they will be upon you. Captain, help me down," she commanded.
"I will not," he protested. "You will ride to the castle, now!"
"Captain, I order you as your Queen." She straightened in the saddle. "You serve Arendelle and you will do as I say." She reached out her hand, and Ismund had no choice but to take it with is good hand. She slid down and steadied herself by holding onto his shoulders.
"Now you get on the horse and pull me up behind you, backwards."
"My Queen?"
"I will ride behind and keep off the dogs off of us while we retreat."
Ismund knew he didn't have time to argue, he could hear the howling, and the pounding of paws. They were already making their way around and through the ice wall the Queen had erected.
He slid his sword into its scabbard and gripped the saddle with his good hand and pulled himself astride. Securing the reigns he turned and reached out his wounded hand to the Queen. Just as she took it, the man beside them was leveled to the ground, a snarling beast of death on his chest. The Queen turned her hands at the ready, but already another guard had sliced his blade through the back of the beast's neck. The horse reared, as another dog slammed into the group; another man went down.
"My Queen," Ismund called, trying to control the horse while reaching out to her. But Elsa ignored his hand, and raised hers, sending more ice spinning out wildly all around them. They could hear the howls, but knew without exact killing blows they would not be down long.
"Elsa! Now!" Ismund barked, and the Queen turned to him. There was a fierce determination, but also fear in her eyes. She reached up and took his hand, his blood marking her white skin. He bellowed in pain as he pulled her upwards, her fingers digging into the gashes at his wrist, but just as she was going to swing her leg over the horse, the horse was hit hard and stumbled, Elsa cried out as she fell to the ground. Another dog was on her in an instant, but so were the guards, slashing and stabbing at the beast. Ismund jumped from the horse, bringing his blade down with great force on the back of the dog's neck as he fell, dealing a killing blow.
He pushed the carcass off of her. "Can you stand?"
"Yes, yes," the Queen said and took his hand. There was blood and gore across her face now, matting a sickly red in her blond white hair.
"You must carry on with your plan" he said fiercely grabbing her shoulders, "or we are all dead where we stand."
"Yes, yes," she breathed. There was determination in her eye.
"Lift her to the horse," Ismund commanded and the men pushed her up. He mounted as well.
Elsa lifted her eyes, and again raised her hands; wind and ice began swirling about them.
"Retreat!"
And in a blinding flurry of ice and snow, the battered band, moved as fast as it could towards the castle gates.
The gate swung open to receive them. Guards poured out of the opened gate to surround the little group and brought them safely inside.
Ismund continued right to the castle walls before slowing the horse and bringing it to a stop. They were swarmed with people. "Your Majesty" he heard old Gerta cry, and before he could help the Queen down, she was aided by helpful hands, wrapped in a warm blanket, and taken away.
A young man approached him, looking fresh and sharp in his green uniform. "I'll see to the Queen's horse, sir," he said taking the bridle. Ismund looked around. He spotted his man who had first fallen to the death dogs, Pavel, on a gurney, a physician at his side. From the amount of blood present he wondered if his young soldier would keep his leg, but he was damn lucky to be alive at all. He breathed a sigh of relief. All his injured men were being seen to. They all were alive.
"Sir?" the eager soldier asked again.
"No thank you. I'd like to take care of her myself."
The soldier protested, "But sir, your arm."
Ismund looked down at his wrist. The gashes were deep, but nothing he hadn't dealt with on his own before. "I said I'd take care of it," he repeated, and the young soldier inclined his head and released his hold.
Ismund dismounted with a grunt and pulled the reigns over the horse's head to lead her to the stables. She shuffled and whinnied at first, ears swiveling, and he stood by her head to calm her, stroking her nose gently and murmuring to her. When she was settled he led her across the courtyard, his bad knee aching more than usual after the night's events.
The place was packed with tents and cots, body to body, with only a small walkway. It had been this way for almost two weeks. Two weeks since the death dogs first appeared, like dark harbingers of destruction out of the forest. How many citizens had they lost that first night? Twenty five? Thirty? Even now they were not sure.
These beasts, these dogs, could not easily be stopped. Not with an arrow or a sling. Not with a bear trap, or a pit, not with fire, and most importantly, not with snow, not with cold, not with snow monsters, or ice walls. Take off a leg, they keep coming. Smash half their bodies and their bony heads keep biting. Stab them through the chest they keep moving. They bled but did not seem to hold blood. They breathed but did not seem to need breath. Their frozen fur fell from their bones and muscles in rotten clumps and still they came. The only thing that stopped them was decapitation. But decapitate one, and another appeared. In the end they had retreated to the castle, and the Queen had fortified the castle walls with thick barbed ice. And so the castle had been a refuge and centuries were posted, and when the dog's howls were heard the bells would ring and the people, what people dared outside the walls at all, would flee to the castle.
Many had moved permanently into the castle's many halls and dining areas, and when they were full, into the courtyard. Some people had even left, of course, took to the sea for a new home, saying Arendelle was cursed, that hell had come to take its revenge on the Queen's unnatural powers, but most stayed. Where else did they have to go? Arendelle was home. Ismund himself had moved what little he had owned into the armory and spent his nights among the armor and swords.
He had lived in Arendelle his entire life. Turning his back on his father's farm, he enlisted in Arendelle's army as soon as he was of age. As a young guard, he had stood in this very courtyard on the night of the Great Freeze. From his vantage point on the wall, he had seen the fountains curl into angry black shards and had watched the city become blanketed in unnatural snow. Several days later he had been cutting wood to keep his aging parents war when suddenly the blizzard went still. The snow hovered in the air like a dream, and then a few minutes later, the sun. Ismund had watched with wonder as the snow disappeared and the grass grew under his feet. His parent's garden, that had been frozen, swelled and grew to twice the size it was before. And later, as he watched the returned young Queen ice skate in the courtyard, near the very spot which he now stood, smiling and laughing with Princess Anna, he knew that Arendelle would be safe in her hands.
He took one last look over that courtyard now, people milling around the fountain, children playing chase, through the tents and stalls. In the distance he heard a child loudly coughing. Winter was coming. As the nights got longer and longer, how long could they survive like this, like refugees, before sickness spread rampant?
As he hung the horse's tack on the pegs and began brushing her down he noticed how empty the stalls were. How many horses had they lost tonight? Ten? It's true that some might be found in the morning. The death dogs were usually more interested in people than animals, but animal loss wasn't unheard of. And how many men had he lost since this had begun? The faces swam before his eyes. So many. So young.
Ismund took up the brush and started brushing down the horse with firm strokes. His thoughts calmed as he went through the motions and one thought floated to the surface. The Queen had nearly died tonight. She had nearly died saving him, an old crippled soldier. The longer he thought and the longer he brushed, the more of what he must do became clear in his mind. But it would wait until morning. For now he just kept brushing while the blood dried and caked on his arm.
xxooOOooxx
a/n Looking for a beta for this story. See chap. 1 for details. Thanks.