The Ruin, page 12
"l know how you feel," he murmured.
"I'm all right," Raryn said.
"I understand what it is to be ashamed of one's own people."
"Well, it's new to me. I was proud to be Inugaakalakurit. Yet my own village-my own brother!-betrayed us."
"I confess, I wasn't entirely pleased about it, either. But I daresay they believed they had no choice. Consider the Icy Claws. You and I have overcome our share of perils, but I can't even look at the things without my bowels turning to water. Your people had to contend with the baatezu, dragons, and Iyraclea's magic and seizing of hostages. I'm not ready to pardon their treachery, but I do comprehend it."
Raryn sighed. "Maybe the one I should really hate is the Ice Queen, for oppressing them and breaking their spirit, and I do. But the person I'm most disgusted with is me. I promised to keep the rest of you safe, and instead I marched you straight into disaster."
"No one could have foreseen what happened."
"I should have. I should have sensed that the glacier had changed since my younger days. The signs were surely there, if only I'd had the wit to notice. A ranger knows, they're always there."
"Nonsense. The place was a desolate slab of ice when you left, and the same when you returned. Unless we'd happened upon a troop of gelugons playing hide-the-cherry, what could possibly have alerted you?"
Half hidden behind his shaggy moustache, Raryn's lips quirked upward. "Well… nothing, maybe. So I suppose I should stop rebuking myself and concentrate on the work that lies ahead."
"That's the Raryn we toast with brimming cups." Taegan grinned. "Of course, it would help to know exactly what form said work will take. Is it actually feasible to work with Iyraclea?"
"Maybe. She truly does seem to want to thwart Sammaster. But never trust her. Do you know, she tried to turn Pavel into one of her ice men, and unlike the wizards, he wouldn't even have been of any particular use to her afterwards. The transformation would have broken his bond to the Morninglord and cost him his magic. She attempted it out of simple cruelty, or just so her goddess could score a petty victory over the power who's her opposite."
"Believe it or not, I'd already discerned that she lacks a certain generosity of spirit. But if she shares our disinclination to see crazed dragons and dracoliches overrun the world…"
Taegan realized Raryn had stopped listening. Instead, the dwarf peered upward, his face intent. His nostrils flared as if he were a hound taking a scent.
"What is it?" Taegan asked
"The air's getting warmer," Raryn said, "and I can smell living plants."
"High above the glacier amid these freezing winds? That suggests some sort of enchantment is active hereabouts."
"I imagine so. Which means we'd better make up our minds about Iyraclea fast, because it looks like we've found the heart of the Rage."
The Ice Queen must have thought the same thing, because she exhorted her followers to hurry on toward the mountaintop. Before long, Taegan too could feel the slope growing warmer, until he had to start opening his heavy garments for comfort's sake. Snow, ice, and bare, frozen earth and rock gave way to moss, grass, and shrubs. The human tribesmen gazed at the greenery in wonder alloyed with mistrust. The huge frost giants, virtually born of cold and possessed of a total affinity with it, sneered and spat.
It seemed likely Iyraclea felt the same, but if so, her eagerness for discovery masked the underlying distaste. "What are you waiting for?" she cried. "Scout ahead!"
The Icy Claws vanished, transporting themselves through space, reappearing moments later to report to their mistress in their rasping, infernal tongue.
"Pardon me," Taegan said.
Eager to see what the ice devils had found, he lashed his pinions and leaped into the air. Silvery butterfly wings a blur, Jivex streaked upward to accompany him. They flew high to obtain a panoramic view of that which awaited them, and it made Taegan catch his breath. The mountaintop was hollow like a bowl, and inside gleamed a castle, or perhaps something more accurately described as a small walled town.
The avariel had only seen an elven city once before, in the dream Amra conjured in the Gray Forest, and the longvanished inhabitants had shaped that glorious place from living trees. In contrast, the builders of the citadel below had worked in granite and marble, but their deceptively delicatelooking spires and battlements, simple and intricate by turns, embodied a similar aesthetic and achieved a comparable beauty. They'd shared the woodland elves' fondness for broad, straight boulevards and had evidently loved gardens as well. With no one to tend them, the lawns and flowerbeds had surrendered to tangled brush and weeds, but grown mighty with the passing ages, the weir trees had flourished. Autumn had begun stripping them of their foliage, and their leaves blew rustling through the vacant streets.
"Curse it," sighed Taegan, addressing the remark to all his fellow avariels, "see what splendor elves create. Everyone but us."
Jivex wheeled past him. "Come on!" the faerie dragon said. "What are you waiting for? Let's find the heart of the Rage and finish up."
As they they all searched the crumbling citadel, forcing warped doors, prowling through dusty, echoing rooms, climbing spiraling stairs to the tops of watchtowers and groping their way down into lightless cellars, Dorn stuck close to Kara. Sammaster had left traps at key points along his trail of discovery, and it seemed likely he'd prepared something particularly nasty at the end.
Dorn wished the bard could shift to dragon form, for she was vulnerable as any other woman in her current shape. But he understood the wisdom of concealing her true nature from
Iyraclea and the priestess's retainers, including the paunchy, saggy-bosomed, blue-haired female frost giant tramping along behind them, ostensibly to assist in their efforts but most likely to keep an eye on them as well. Iyraclea had probably decided it did no harm to slacken the prisoners' reins while everyone stayed together, but more vigilance was required when the expedition split up.
Fortunately, the giantess's bulk kept her from squeezing through the smaller spaces, and it was there Dorn and Kara could confer in private, so long as they kept their voices down. Standing in the dark, empty bedroom at the rear of some long-dead dignitary's apartments, the bard shook her head.
"l don't understand," she said. "We've been searching for hours and haven't found anything."
Dorn shrugged. "It took days to search Northkeep." "Then, there were only a few of us, and we were working underwater."
"Is it possible we don't recognize the… contrivance that makes the Rage when we see it?"
Kara brushed a stray strand of moon-blond hair away from her face. "It is possible, but I doubt it. In magic, appearance often supports reality. An enchanter puts on an impressive display to create a powerful effect. Thus, I'd expect the source of the Rage to be imposing, awe-inspiring, not some funny little knickknack in a drawer. There's another consideration as well."
"What?"
"You know that even with the proper ward in place, I still feel frenzy gnawing at my mind."
"Yes."
"Well, I expected that in close proximity to the source of the sickness, I'd suddenly find it harder to bear, but I haven't. It's as bad as before, but no worse."
"Then this is the wrong place?"
She shook her head. "I don't know what to think. The corpse tearer was right, elves did build it, far from their usual haunts. You can see their sensibilities reflected in every line. They surely had a reason. But-"
Muffled by the walls of the building, a trumpet blared. Other horns echoed the call.
"Out!" bellowed the giantess, her deep, heavily accented attempt at Common Tongue only barely intelligible. "Come out! Queen wants us!"
Dorn suspected it wasn't for anything good. He used his flingers of flesh and bone to take Kara's hand, then led her out under a blackening sky, where the first stars were already shining.
In the citadel, the largest thoroughfares radiated from a central hub. This nexus was a circular expanse paved with a dark green stone like malachite, each hexagonal flag inscribed with a character from an alphabet Dorn didn't recognize, and it was there Iyraclea had decided the expedition would rendezvous. By the time Dorn, Kara, and their lumbering, malodorous escort arrived, the last purple traces of sunset had vanished from the western sky. With all the ghost-pale gelugons, giants, and ice wizards prowling about in the gloom, the plaza resembled a scene from a nightmare, or a vision of one of the Hells.
Yet despite her flawless beauty, and her diminutive stature compared to many of her monstrous servants, the most frightening entity present was Iyraclea herself. Ensconced on an elevated throne she'd evidently shaped from conjured ice, she radiated power and displeasure.
"Well?" she demanded. "Has anyone found anything?" "Not yet, Your Majesty," Kara said. "But we've been at it less than a day."
"l have Alan's sacred rituals to perform," the Ice Queen replied, "a realm to rule, and a war to oversee. My time is precious, and if it turns out you've wasted it, you and your friends will suffer."
"l told you the truth," said Pavel, standing between a barbarian warrior and Will. "About Sammaster, the Rage, and all the rest of it. What would have been the point of lying?"
"I don't know," Iyraclea said. "Why don't you tell me?"
"August and radiant queen," said Taegan, "the ancient elves enchanted this stronghold to keep the weather clement, and thousands of years later, the charm still holds the mountain's chill at bay. Wise as you are, surely you understand the builders wouldn't have lavished such powerful magic on the fortress unless the place was important. We may prove unable to unravel its secrets, but I know others who can, the learned sages who've pondered these mysteries for months. Please, allow me to fetch them."
"That's out of the question!" Iyraclea snapped. "Pavel said you and your friends possess the knowledge to solve the puzzle. That's the reason I dealt with you mercifully. Now you'd better hope your own wits are equal to the task."
Because, Dorn thought, the last thing she wanted was a band of magicians as powerful as the wizards of Thentia visiting the site. They quite possibly possessed the arcane strength to wrest control of the situation away from even the Frostmaiden's high priestess and her terrible servants.
Kara stiffened, and her fingers clamped tight on Dorn's. She turned to him, then, evidently recalling the hostile folk standing all around, quickly masked all traces of her excitement. Apparently she'd realized something important, and for whatever reason, had decided it was something she wouldn't divulge to the Ice Queen unless the tyrant left her no alternative.
Unfortunately, it seemed likely that was exactly what would happen. Distracted, Dorn had missed the last few words of the conversation, but he took up the thread:
"… give you tonight and tomorrow," Iyraclea said. "But then, come midnight, and every midnight after, I'll offer one of you to the Cold Goddess. Starting with the halfling, I believe." She sneered. "I’ve taken your measure, Wilimac Turnstone, and I very much doubt you're scholar enough to contribute much to our efforts."
Kara gave Dorn's hand another squeeze, as if to reassure him that, one way or another, Iyraclea's threat would never come to pass. Will, meanwhile, offered the priestess a grin. "Now that's where you're wrong," he said. "I'm the clever one. The charlatan's the dolt. That's the pox for you. It rots the brain."
Iyraclea scowled. "All of you, resume the search!"
The gathering started to disperse. Intensely curious, Dorn looked forward to the moment when Kara could confide in him. Unfortunately, with the giantess once again slouching along in their wake, he supposed he'd have to wait a little while longer.
Enormous shadows swept across the ground, and something hissed and rustled overhead. Dorn looked up. Pale jagged shapes flapped and glided down from the heavens, as if the moon had shattered into pieces. Some of the white dragons and ice drakes-smaller than their companions but still big as a hay wagon and the team drawing it, with short, thick legs and wide, flat tails-lit on the ground. Others perched on battlements and rooftops. The reptiles' sharp, dry odor suffused the air.
*****
"Your Majesty," one of the dragons rumbled, a sneer in its tone. Taegan glanced about, seeking the source of the salutation, and winced when he found it. Its pale hide mottled with rot and its sunken eyes glowing in the gloom, a dracolich crouched on the gable-and-valley roof of a once-splendid house.Jivex snorted. "What's the matter, are you scared? We already killed one of those things."
"l remember," Taegan said. "l intend to dine out on the tale for the rest of my days. But as you may recall, Vorasaegha nearly tore it to pieces before we became involved, and even then, it was brisk work."
Still, that turn of events had one positive feature: To all appearances, the sudden advent of the dragons had startled and unsettled the rest of Iyraclea’s minions. Even the Icy
Claws pivoted back and forth, keeping a wary eye on the gigantic reptiles looming on every side.
The gelugon that had been following Taegan and Jivex around was as distracted as the rest. The elf looked around, spotted Dorn, pressed a finger to his lips, and skulked in the half-golem's direction. He didn't know what was about to happen, but suspected he and his comrades would fare better united. Jivex flitted after him.
Meanwhile, Iyraclea emerged from the crowd to glare up at the dracolich. Unlike her followers, she appeared not a whit dismayed, and Taegan proffered a grudging admiration.
"Zethrindor," she said. "What are you doing here?"
"That's what I was about to ask you."
"Don't be insolent! I ordered you and the rest of these wyrms to Sossal."
"The war's going well," said Zethrindor." His tail switched, breaking loose clay tiles to clatter and spill off the roof. "it’ll keep for a few days. But while we condescend to conquer a kingdom for the benefit of a human, you break your pact with Sammaster."
"What do you know about it?"
"In exchange for our help, you promised to kill strangers. Instead, you plotted with them to pry into the wizard's business."
Taegan and Jivex closed the distance to Dorn-and Kara, too, the bladesinger observed. Pavel, Raryn, and Will were likewise heading toward the same spot.
"What do you care?" Iyraclea said. "You're no true friend to Sammaster or anyone else. So why should it concern you if I play him false?"
"Because of the future he promises. I can't have you stealing or tampering with a magic that will help to bring it about."
Iyraclea curled her lip, and Taegan shivered as a sudden chill permeated the air. "But you'd steal it yourself in an instant, wouldn't you, to improve your own position."
"If it embodies the destiny of dragonkind, a drake should look after it. That's obvious, and even if it isn't, I didn't come here to debate. Produce whatever it is you've discovered, and even though you broke your covenant with Sammaster, we'll keep faith with you. We'll finish the subjugation of Sossal, and leave you in peace thereafter."
"That's easily done. Behold." Iyraclea waved her dainty hand at an empty patch of dark, sigil-inscribed paving. "We found nothing, because there's nothing to discover."
"Truly? Well, in that case, you must be eager to return to your altars. Do so. Simply leave me your prisoners, as they're clearly of no use to you, and they and I will poke around this curious place a little longer."
"l think not. Go back to Sossal, complete your task, and content yourself with the plunder and feast of human flesh you win in the process. Otherwise, I'll destroy every last one of you."
The dracolich sneered. "A hollow threat, to say the least."
"Hardly," Iyraclea said. "Don't you whites and ice drakes understand your own natures? You're creatures born of cold. It infuses and sustains you, and the goddess who lends me her might is the source of it. With a mere thought, I can turn your own essences against you."
"If Auril herself were here," said Zethrindor, "perhaps I’d be afraid. Or maybe not. Sammaster proclaims the time of the gods is passing, and the age of the dracoliches is at hand."
Without the slightest. preparatory shift to warn of his intentions, the wyrm sprang.
Iyraclea raised her hand, and defined by a whirl of fallen leaves, a twisting cyclone howled into existence between her and her plummeting attacker. The vortex hurled Zethrindor off course to smash down on the pavement. At the same time, the Ice Queen, gown lashing around her, lifted by another tame wind, perhaps, floated backward across the plaza, distancing herself from the white, cadaverous wyrm. She shouted words of power and swept her arms through sinuous passes. Suspended in midair like a curtain, rows of luminous blue blades appeared down the long axis of Zethrindor's body. Spinning like wheels, they hacked his rotting scales and withered muscle.
He roared, sprang clear of the effect, reared and cocked back his head, and spewed his breath weapon. Probably, like Taegan, Iyraclea expected frost, the substance whites usually expelled, and to which she was surely impervious, for this time she made no effort to defend. A plume of dark, billowing fumes washed over and made her flail in agony. Zethrindor had evidently cast a spell to change his breath into a green's corrosive, poisonous exhalation.
The dracolich lashed his pinions, took to the air, and hurtled toward her-and that was when mayhem exploded on every side, as everyone else decided to join the fight. Some excited whites largely wasted their first attacks spewing frigid vapors that froze human barbarians but had no effect on the rest of Iyraclea's retainers. The more clever whites, and the ice drakes, conjured blazes of magic, or sprang to engage their foes with fang and claw. Javelins and arrows flew to meet them. Spears stabbed and axes hacked. A gelugon materialized half a dozen lesser devils, crouching, snakybearded things armed with enormous saw-toothed polearms, to fight on its behalf. Ice wizards chanted incantations in their chiming, clashing, dispassionate voices.
Wings a silvery smear, Jivex hovered uncertainly. "Do we know what side we're on?"
