Plague of Ice

9

There was no mistaking the towers of ice of which Savanak spoke. They were stark, ivory-white ziggurats, reaching so high above the ground that the party wondered why no one had seen them while the Fell Forest still stood. Perhaps nobody ever cared to get close enough to look. They loomed in the distance like mysterious giants-frost giants, of course-standing, watching, ever silent. There were seven of them in all, each cylindrical and twice as thick as any redwood, placed irregularly and unpredictably across a strangely terraced surface where snow collected on different planes. The impression was of a nightmare painting or the surreal contours of a frozen level of the Hells.

"Be on guard," said Sonja as they drew near. "From what Savanak said, this is the dragon's lair. Even if it's not, there's something strange about this." She paused a moment, giving the others a chance to test their skills of observation.

"I think I know," said Lidda. She held up her hand, her palm open against the wind. "Where we're standing," she explained, "the wind is blowing directly at us, from the direction of the towers. But look over there." She pointed to the side. "Watch the snow. It's not going in the same direction at all. It seems to be blowing directly away from these towers, too."

"That's it," said Sonja. "Unless I miss my guess, that means that our portal is someplace in the center."

"Great!" said Hennet. "Now let's get in there and seal it before our dragon friend pays us a third visit."

"Something feels wrong," Sonja confessed as they approached the closest tower. "No guards. Nothing defending the portal. And what are these towers?"

When they reached the closest one, sheltered from the wind behind it, Regdar ran a gloved hand and scraped off the white coating of ice. Underneath, it was smooth and pitch black.

"It looks like basalt," ventured Lidda. "This is really some tower."

Regdar and Hennet brushed off more of the ice as Sonja turned to regard the strange terraces among the towers.

"You see what this is?" she said. "It's a city. Or maybe something smaller, like a military outpost." She took a few steps. Her footsteps showed evidence of stone, not ground, beneath the ice. With a gesture, she cast a spell and removed a large area of ice, revealing a solid gray surface beneath, a perfectly flat and featureless granite walkway. It was not made of slabs laid through manual labor but created whole, apparently through wizardry.

"Mages," she concluded. "Many mages must have lived here."

Hennet concurred. "Who else would live in so many towers?"

Sonja took another step forward, then gave a shriek of surprise. "What is it?" asked Hennet.

"Come over here," she said. The others joined her and instantly understood what she was reacting to. Past a certain spot, the wind stopped. Or rather the wind ceased to exist-it just wasn't present. Like the eye of the hurricane, this was the calm at the center of this whole magical ice storm. To the party, badly windburned and tired of being pelted with snow and ice over the past few days, this came as a considerable relief.

"We really are at the core," said Regdar. "Then the portal-"

"No one move," blurted Sonja. "The portal could be invisible. You could walk right into it and pass through to another plane by accident."

Sonja closed her eyes for a moment and cast another spell, one that would reveal the auras of magic around them. As she did, some of the party's clothes and weapons lit up with a serene, blue glow, but that was barely noticed amid the blue light that streaked over the entire field. The color that denoted the presence of magic was so strong there that it shone all across the frozen city, draping the whole place in azure tones that flickered and glimmered. Even the faces of the party were painted blue now. The source of this magic was what looked like a large, vertical slit in the air near the center of the frozen city, as tall as Regdar. It was a tear in space out of which energy coursed and flowed, pulsing and seething as it gushed magic.

"So that's what a portal looks like?" Lidda asked. "I've often wondered."

"We not actually seeing the portal," Sonja explained, "but the magic it generates. That's what we're looking at. Seeing it, I now realize it's not a true portal but rather a rift."

"What's the difference," said Regdar.

"A portal is like a door," Sonja explained, "something calculated and measured that was designed to be somewhere. A rift is more like a break or a hole in a wall, a crude, makeshift rip between the worlds. It comes about through violence, not planning."

"Does that mean that it's accidental?" asked Regdar.

"No," explained Sonja, "not necessarily accidental… maybe just crude. If you can't find a door and you really need to get across, you might just a tear a hole in the wall."

Regdar nodded.

"Unless I miss my guess…" Sonja led them around the rift, keeping a cautious distance from it until she reached the opposite side. From there, it couldn't be seen. Only a vague, blue emanation of magic remained.

"It's gone!" said Lidda.

"This is difficult to understand," Sonja explained. "As I said, I don't know that much about cosmology." She bent over and made a snowball and tossed it through the rift from behind. It landed with a plop on the far side, as if nothing whatsoever obstructed it. "It only faces one direction," the druid explained.

"Why is there no wind here?" asked Hennet. "I mean, we're right on top of it, so shouldn't the wind be stronger?"

Sonja made another snowball and flung it up into the air. It flew straight up about fifteen feet, but never came down. At that height it was caught and scattered by a ferocious wind blowing outward.

"This is a kind of safe area," Sonja said. "It was probably designed this way to allow the rift to be crossed easily. If this rift was meant for an army to march through, for instance, it wouldn't pay to have them blown away the instant they stepped through."

"You mean," asked Lidda, "that we could step into that… and step out in the Plane of Ice?" She was intrigued by the thought.

"If it's all the same, Lidda," said Sonja, "I'd rather dispel it instead. You'll have to satisfy your curiosity some other time, but I strongly advise against it."

If all went well, their mission would end here and now.

Sonja stepped forward, staring intensely at the rift between worlds. She raised her right hand, where she wore the silver ring of dispelling given her in Atupal and silently activated it. For what felt like an eternity she peered into the blue, shimmering oval, waging silent war on the rift, the force of her mind and magic against its unfeeling, guileless power.

Doubt wormed its way into her spirit. This rift fought back. She felt it powerfully at the center of the effect, and she still felt it, weaker but definite, at the edges when she shifted tacks and tried to fold the opening in on itself. Every time Sonja's magic pushed forward, the rift's magic pushed back.

Everyone's attention was focused so intently on Sonja and her efforts that no one noticed a white form scuttling down one of the towers, descending the smooth surface with ease. Partway down it launched itself off and cut its way through the snowy sky, gliding in a graceful arc toward the intruders despite the buffeting wind. The blue light emanating from the rift struck the dragon's pearly scales and dabbed them in deep shades of turquoise.

As it closed in, the dragon opened its elongated jaw and let out a shriek. Instantly Lidda, Hennet, and Regdar covered their ears. Sonja, however, was locked in concentration and barely heard the screech. Regdar grabbed her by the arm and yanked, shattering her carefully laid spell. She didn't make a sound or protest but merely collapsed where she stood. Regdar lifted her in his strong arms and ran across the terraced surface of the strange, frozen city.

The hole in the little dragon's wing was still visible, and sticky threads, remnants of Hennet's web spell, still dangled across its face. As if it recognized its tormentor, the dragon swooped directly at Hennet. The sorcerer was caught in an outstretched claw and lifted several feet off the ground before being tossed against the frosted side of a tower. Hennet slid to the ground, moaning and grasping his head, and the dragon managed a reptilian approximation of a laugh as it swooped away.

A crossbow quarrel struck the dragon's tail, penetrating its hide just deeply enough to draw blood. The creature reared about to find the source in time for another bolt to plunge directly into its gaping mouth. A flick of the pale, forked tongue dislodged the bolt, and the head swiveled to point toward a snowbank where Lidda crouched beneath the snow. She thought herself hidden and she might have been to human eyes, but one could not fool a white dragon by hiding under snow. The dragon turned in her direction while letting out a low growl that resonated off the frozen towers.

As the dragon wheeled above the towers, the duration of Sonja's spell ended. The blue aura indicating magic vanished, taking any sign of the rift along with it, but it was still there, still invisibly pumping more and more snow onto this plane. It was easy enough to recognize where it was even without magic; it was the spot above which all the winds originated and away from which all the snow streaked.

Regdar, meanwhile, dashed about trying to find a safe spot for Sonja, who was still unconscious in his arms. Part of him wanted to set her on the ground, draw his greatsword, and plunge into the fray, but he could not abandon the druid. He watched helplessly as the dragon swooped toward Lidda's position, until Hennet launched a magic missile that caught the dragon from behind. The beast swooped high up into the air this time, training its attentions on the scampering Hennet. Lidda fired another quarrel from her crossbow, but the dragon was too far above and the bolt, carried away by the crosswind, never reached it.

While other dragons breathed weapons of fire, lightning, or gas, a white dragon's breath was a sustained funnel of ice. It was said to be more cold than any natural chill. Hennet wondered how much colder anything could he than what hed already felt in the last days, but with the dragon hovering above him preparing to launch its breath weapon, he wasn't anxious to find out. Aching and bleeding, he pulled himself to his feet along the side of the tower and crawled along its circumference to the far side, facing what had been the forest. He hoped to keep the tower between the dragon and himself, but the creature caught onto his plan quickly. It alighted vertically on the side of the tower. With its wings folded in, it scurried sideways down the glazed walled with perfect grace, rushing toward Hennet, moving to bring him into the range of its breath.

At this moment Hennet wished he hadn't used up the only charge on the wand of fire. The dragon's ability to scale walls was probably limited to those covered with ice, so even if a fireball didn't kill it, a good blast of heat might still send it crashing to the ground. The wand was out, but the thought still gave Hennet an idea. He jogged away to put a bit of distance between the tower and himself, but did not flee. Instead, he fired a magic missile upward, not at the dragon itself but immediately in its path, against the white surface of the tower.

When the missile struck, it exposed a huge, black patch of the basalt surface in the dragon's path. This barely slowed the dragon as it heedlessly crawled its way past, but a split second later, the impact of the spell set off a chain reaction across the tower. Portions of the ice coating the tower slid free, including the portion beneath the dragon's claws. Unable to cling to cling to the sheer surface, the dragon tried to spring into the air but couldn't manage to get off the slick basalt surface. Its outstretched wings sought the air, but too late. Headfirst, it plunged toward the icy ground.

This time Hennet ran not as a lure but for his life. He slid around to the opposite side of the tower and ran back toward the center of the tower cluster, in the direction of Lidda and Regdar. He heard a thundering crash behind him but didn't turn back to look.

Lidda watched as the dragon thrashed on the ground, trying to untangle itself. Moments later, it swooped out of a cloud of snow and flew almost at ground level after Hennet. She readied her crossbow but then heard a strange noise from above her shoulder. It sounded much like a voice-a flinty, high-pitched, child's voice.

"Don't worreee about him," it seemed to say, giving a strange trill to the r's. "Watch."

The dragon bore down on Hennet, teeth snapping and talons clutching forward. Just as it was about to snatch him, a dark hole opened at Hennet's feet, and he was gone.

Above the wheeling, screeching dragon, emblazoned on the side of the tower where the ice had peeled away, stood the emblem of Wee Jas, rigid overlord of death and magic.

Regdar watched from around a corner, with Sonja still limp in his arms. She felt warm and soft, but he had little time to reflect on this. He blinked, trying to figure out where Hennet had gone. It had happened so quickly. Had he fallen into a hole in the ground? That was the best Regdar could figure, short of teleportation magic.

Cheated of its prize, the dragon snarled and circled back and landed to search the spot where Hennet disappeared. Its muzzle snuffled over the snow, trying to uncover a secret door. As long as it kept this up, Regdar thought, the rest of them were safe.

Then Regdar, too, heard a strange voice, accompanied by a fast buzz like the sound of a hummingbird's wings.

"Look to the leffft," it said. "Look to the tower."

Regdar looked for the source of the voice but couldn't find it. He did what it said and saw that a door stood open on one of the towers a short distance away. The dark hole beckoned him.

"Get to safety. Quickly!" the voice instructed him.

Regdar looked to Lidda and saw that she, too, was looking toward the open door. When their eyes met, they shared a look of puzzlement and concern, but their options were few.

The dragon shifted its attention from Hennet's mysterious disappearance to the others. It spotted Lidda first and flew toward her. She scrambled for the open door.

"Hey!" Regdar shouted at the dragon. "Over here!"

The beast turned to face Regdar, then he, too, bolted toward the door. Sonja was light but Regdar felt her weight keenly as he pushed his legs to their fastest, kicking up clouds of snow as he ran. Regdar could hear the smooth beats of the dragon's wings behind him, drawing nearer and nearer.

Lidda was almost at the door. Regdar was sure she'd be safe, assuming that safety actually lay through that door, but he couldn't say the same for Sonja and himself. He thought he could even feel the dragon's chill breath on the back of its neck. It seemed so close and the door so far away. Part of him wanted to turn back and confront the dragon, but he knew he couldn't put Sonja down or draw his greatsword before the dragon would be on him. He ran on, and the cold along his neck was gone and the doorway yawned before him. Either he had outrun the dragon, or it had given up for some other reason. He raced through the dark opening just behind Lidda, and the door slammed behind them.

They were shut in the dark. For the first time in quite a while, they had real shelter. In fact, it was just as cold amid these ancient walls.

"What just happened?" asked Sonja, who slid groggily out of Regdar's arms. She leaned against a wall to steady herself.

"We'll tell you when we figure it out," said Lidda.

"The dragon attacked us," said Regdar. "There was an open door on one of these towers, so we ran inside. I heard a voice telling me to do it."

"So did I," Lidda said. "I didn't know what else to do, so it seemed like a good suggestion at the moment."

"And Hennet?" Sonja sounded desperate. "Where is Hennet?"

"Down below." The voice was the same one both Lidda and Regdar had heard before. They jumped, shocked to realize they weren't alone in the dark. Regdar's hand went to the hilt of his sword, but Sonja put her hand over his.

"What are you?" the druid asked. "Can we see you?"

"I have a light heeeere. Don't be afraid. No fire! No fire."

A magical torch set in a knot on the wall flared into light. Lidda, Regdar, and Sonja found themselves staring into the leering, red face of a great horned creature, its mouth wide open revealing dozens of white teeth. For an instant they thought this mouth was doing the talking, but it was an intricate carving set into the slate-gray wall of the chamber. Its long, thin arms ended in jagged claws, and a set of spines ran along its back and onto the tail that encircled the entire room, where a thin, circular stairway snaked up and down the tower.

The creature depicted in the carving was a tarrasque, the most fearsome monster of legend, but another, very real monster was in the room as well. Crouched on the floor was a thin, ethereal being that was only slightly taller than Lidda. It certainly wasn't any halfling. Its skin was the chill blue of a frozen ocean, and two leathery wings were folded behind it. Two tiny horns topped its hairless head. Its nose was large and angled, and saurian ridges traced along its icy limbs.

Lidda was shocked by the demonic appearance of this being. Was it some sort of imp or quasit, she wondered? Sonja knew better. "You're an ice mephit," she said. "Yeess," it answered, giving the vowel a proud trill, "a mephit." And it offered a little bow.