Sworn To Conflict: Courtlight #3 (22 page)

Ciardis looked around anxiously, but there didn’t seem to be any posted guards around the mine entrance. They all loitered around the chained
kith
in the distance. She suspected that the Daemoni mages had invoked the magic that allowed them to become invisible and sneak up on the mines. Mainly due to the fact that Thanar’s smug face had disappeared the minute he spread his wings and leapt into the air. She hoped Thanar and the other Daemoni got their invisible butts back here before the guards decided to change their stations.

She almost jumped when Inga appeared soundlessly beside her.

Turning to Inga, she whispered furiously, “How are we supposed to get down there?”

“With these,” whispered Thanar so close to her ear that he could have kissed her, and she did jump then.

He hastily slapped a hand across her mouth to muffle her shriek. Glaring, she pushed his hand away as she gestured for an explanation at the ropes and chains that he and his guards carried.

“We’ll carry you,” he explained.

“With those?” Ciardis said, looking at the rusted chains. “I don’t think so.”

“The chains aren’t for you, companion,” Thanar said with amusement. He looked at Inga, who nodded in assent.

Ciardis didn’t care for that.

“I still don’t think—” Ciardis managed to say before her words descended into a muffled shout. Thanar had picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. Her mouth was buried in his back between his wings, and before she could get in a further word in he lifted off in flight.

Ciardis desperately wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, hanging on for dear life and swearing she’d stab him when they landed again.

Just outside the dark hole that marked the mine’s entrance he landed with a subtle flap of his dark wings.

“Keep close,” whispered Thanar as he set her down and walked off. She knew he walked off because she couldn’t feel him next her and she could suddenly see her hand. Which meant other people could see her, as well. Not good.

“Thanar!” she whispered harshly as she tried to stay as still as possible while crouching down out of sight.

“I told you to keep close. I meant it,” his voice murmured out of nowhere, and he grabbed her hand to drag her along. She did as he asked, wondering where they were going but they were standing too close to mine officials lingering nearby to speak out and risk sounding an alert. They still hadn’t spotted Caemon.

As they made it inside the cavernous mine Thanar turned sharply left onto a semi-lit path festooned with awkwardly placed lanterns. “How do you know he’s in here?” whispered Ciardis with urgency.

The Daemoni mage holding her hand didn’t pause. “Because I can feel his aura. I’m following his trail of power the same way your frost giant friend can follow a trial of blood.”

He kept going down the smaller mine shaft until they reached the entrance to a smaller cavern. In the corner of the room, tinkering with something, was Caemon.

Ciardis sighed with relief, “You idiot. What were you thinking?”

Caemon startled and turned around. Then she got to see what he had actually been fiddling with, and she blanched in the darkness. He held two thin ropes, one in each hand. The ropes looped around and down to the floor until they stopped in front of large, glass jars of Likan fire. There was nothing else like it in the world, and it was unmistakable.

Likan fire wasn’t like natural fire or even mage fire. It was a unique product created by mages during the Initiate Wars. Its deadly nature came from the fact that it could not be tamed by water or air. It was well known that the only way to get rid of Likan fire was to spread Likan oil on it until the fire dissolved. Created by the people of the same name, it used a secret combination of chemicals that made the flame burn with an unstoppable heat, long and high.

She held out a hand, beseeching him. “Put those lighter ropes down. What do you think you’re doing, Caemon?”

Caemon asked, “What are you doing here?”

Shouting at Thanar, he said, “Why did you bring her here?”

“I didn’t bring her here; she insisted on coming,” Thanar replied calmly, edging around the side of the room.

Caemon shook his head desperately while still holding the lighter ropes. “You need to leave. You both need to leave.”

“We’re not going anywhere,
freund
,” Inga said in a soothing tone.

“You don’t understand,” Ciardis’s brother snapped.

“You’re right,” Ciardis said, edging forward. “We don’t. Why are you doing this?”

He shook his head sadly. “Everyone stop moving.”

No one paid attention. He yanked up the two ropes up in the air high above his head and held the two ends of the lighter ropes centimeters apart. “I said
stop
!”

They all froze. The lighter ropes would ignite the moment they touched.

Breathing slowly, Ciardis said, “All right. Tell us why this is happening.”

“How can you even ask that?” her brother said.

“This mine is death, it has destroyed communities and ignited hatreds,” he continued, disbelief in his voice. “Not to mention that whatever is down there shouldn’t be in the hands of the Empire.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” said Ciardis. She was trying to connect with Caemon, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. Sweat dripped down his face as he nervously looked behind her for more interlopers.

“Definitely not,” said Thanar.

Ciardis felt mild irritation at his interruption. He might be right, but she was trying to calm her brother down, not rile him up.

Caemon’s arm trembled in the effort to keep both hands steady. “I have to do this, sister. I have to end the labor and even the possibility of them discovering what lies in the depths of the mines.”

Ciardis narrowed her eyes. “Do you know what lies in its depths?”

Her brother didn’t say anything, but she could read the nervous tic in his face. “You know, don’t you? What in the hell is it?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he whispered in a hoarse voice. “This has to be done. For the good of everyone forced to slave away in its evil depths. I’d never trust the Algardians to keep their word and keep them free. Goodbye, sister. Say hello to our mother for me.”

Ciardis opened her mouth in horror, shouting, “Wait!”

But he didn’t. He pushed the two lighter ends together just as Thanar jumped toward him. Too late. A blast with the power to incinerate the entire valley above them exploded outward. Ciardis was flung backwards. She pushed her right hand out in front of her in desperation. Whether to reach for her brother in death, or halt the advance of the explosion she didn’t know. Whatever it was, her right hand responded with so much more. Just before her vision dissolved she saw a most curious thing. Her hand glowed with a brilliant white light, as if she had put on a glove of moonlight. As the glow of the glove appeared, the flames and heat of the explosion coming toward her folded back of their own accord, as if the sucking power of an ocean whirlpool had opened right behind it. And behind her she felt a
geisttor
open in midair. As she felt the power of her hand manipulating the energy of the room to suck the power of the blast out of the opposite end, she knew it wasn’t enough. The explosion was too much. Her hand had acted fast, but it wasn’t all-powerful.

Not enough to save her, she realized, and fell into darkness.

T
o say Ciardis woke up disoriented was to say a dragon was large. Her ears was ringing, she had cuts all over her face, her whole body felt bruised, and her head felt like one massive ache. She was on her back and was rapidly starting to freeze all over. She quickly realized through the pain and confusion that she was lying in the snow. Shivering, she rolled over on her hands and knees. Her wet curls stuck to the back of her head and she felt icicles that had frozen in the curls around her face slap her sore cheeks with stinging brutality.

She knew she was in a bad situation. She almost relished the sting of her cheeks. She could barely feel her hands. Looking down with her teeth chattering, she saw that they had turned a cold blue and she blew out a breath that frosted in the cold air right in front of her.

Where was she?

She looked forward and around. Trying to see anything that marked the terrain that would show her where she was. But all she saw around her was the white of snow on a wide, flat plain. Nothing disturbed the pattern of snow and frost in the area. And then she heard a groan low to the ground behind her. Clutching her cloak to her, she struggled to stand and turn around.

With wonder and horror foremost in her thoughts, she saw Inga lying in the distance behind her. Close up she looked worse off than Ciardis had been. In addition to the bruises, she had small burns all over her body, and a bone was sticking out of her left arm.

Ciardis swallowed hard as she dropped into the snow by the frost giant’s side. Inga’s eyes were open. She was aware. But her eyes were strange. Dilated until they were massive, and her skin was blue all over.

“Inga?” Ciardis whispered softly.

Inga turned her eyes toward Ciardis and Ciardis saw that her pupils had changed. They had become two crossed lines of dark blue. An iris of sorts. A dark black dot at the center of the cross served as her pupil. It was one of the creepiest things she had ever seen. Mainly because it was on her friend’s face.

Inga breathed in and out sharply.

“Trying to slow the pain,” she said slowly.

“Is...is that possible?” Ciardis said, her voice hesitant. She didn’t know squat about healing—or frost giant physiques, for that matter.

Inga let a ghost of a smile grace her face through the pain. “It is possible among my people.”

Inga’s eyelids dipped low over her disturbing eyes as she glared at Ciardis. “You’re temperature has dropped dangerously low.” As if Ciardis had frozen herself deliberately.

“Not intentionally.”

“Nothing’s ever intentional with you. I suppose I should thank you for this new predicament?”

“We’re alive, aren’t we?” said Ciardis.

“Alive and staying alive aren’t necessarily bosom buddies.”

Inga grimaced. “But one thing at a time, I guess. You want to help?”

“Help with what?” Ciardis said.

Inga shook her head and said, “Just hold my forearm steady.”

Ciardis looked at her with doubt in her eyes but put her hands on the massive lower half of Inga’s broken arm, as requested. She eyed the shaft of bone sticking out from Inga’s upper arm dubiously. The bone had clearly broken in half and forced its way through her skin. The blue blood from the wound ran down Inga’s arm, making her lower arm slippery. Ciardis tightened her grip.

“Good girl,” Inga said.

“What are you going to do?”

Inga didn’t answer. Instead, as if to do it before her resolve dampened, she put her opposite hand directly over the bone jutting out of her. She grabbed it, gritted her teeth, and forced it back down below the skin. Her pupils widened from the weird cross shape into a normal circle, and she forced the bone back up into place, throwing her head back and howling at the pain.

Ciardis gaped at her from her side.

“You fixed it,” she whispered.

“No,” Inga said, as she spit out blood from her mouth. Ciardis couldn’t tell if she’d bitten her tongue or if the wound had come from the abrupt landing.

“I just laid it out,” Inga said. “It needs a healer to mend and set it properly.”

“Right,” said Ciardis as she eyed the arm that now hung uselessly by Inga’s side.

Inga used her unharmed arm to push herself up, “Time to go.”

“Go? Go where?”

Inga looked down at the human girl crouched at her feet. “To the Algardis camp, of course.”

She nodded her head at an object in the distance.

Ciardis turned around and looked. There it was, miles away but visible—the fortifications that signaled they had almost made it home.

“It’s going to take an hour or two of walking,” said Inga, “but we can make it.”

Ciardis grimaced. They had no other choice.

She kicked at the snow and snapped at the vanished
geisttor
, “Why couldn’t you drop us in the camp?”

Her hand throbbed in answer. Ciardis had the silly feeling that it wasn’t sorry.

They walked over the frozen plains, feet lurching in the snow. As Ciardis moved forward she fought for every step. She had to high-step to even clear the snow, which was up to her knees. Shivering, she knew hypothermia was quickly setting in. She could see the camp in the distance, but like a mirage in the desert it always appeared closer than it actually was.

She didn’t complain, though. Inga was worse off than she was, and rapidly losing blood, as well. They had to make it. Finally the frost giant stumbled. Ciardis was surprised Inga had made it this far. The blood was pouring down her arm, which hung straight down limply with torn flesh. The blue color of her skin had darkened until it was almost purple. And the damage to the rest of her body was just as extensive. Inga didn’t let that stop her, though. She got up as quickly as she had fallen, but Ciardis didn’t think that was a good sign.

“We’re almost there,” she told the swaying warrior.

“I know,” growled Inga.

They stumbled forward some more, but there wasn’t any hope of Inga getting any farther. She had endured too much damage and lost too much blood. In a panic, Ciardis contemplated running for the camp. But a running lurch would be as fast as she go. She also knew that it was at least a mile away and it felt like frostbite had already set in in her toes.

Still she stood up. She had to try. For Inga.

“I’m going,” she declared with chattering teeth. “I’m going for help.”

“You’ll never survive,” murmured Inga, in a daze. She was half-collapsed on her side in the snow.

“We don’t have a choice,” Ciardis said.

Inga didn’t respond. She was barely keeping her eyes from closing.

And then Ciardis felt her hand throb. At first she ignored it as an effect of the hypothermia. And then it itched and pulsed with power. She looked down at it in disbelief. “What now? You’re the cause of this, you know.”