Merchants and Mages (Highmage's Plight Book 2) (5 page)

Ice and Fire

Chapter 6

C
le’or cursed at them both even as Raven entered the fray. “Raven!” she shouted.

 
Balfour gaped as the elemental’s reformed fist swung hard at the falc. Raven nimbly dipped and tucked, and flew clear. The elemental raged.

 
“We have got to help them!” Cle’or yelled.

 
“How?” Balfour demanded.

 
Cle’or glared at him, “Think of something!”

 
Oh, that’s helpful,
Balfour told himself. 
What can I do?
 The only weapon that they had any chance was the use of heat to combat the cold. He stared at Cle’or and grabbed her by the shoulders, “I don’t know how long this will work, so get away the instant you feel cold!  Hear me? The instant!”

 
Me’oh frowned then asked as Cle’or unhesitatingly nodded, “Balfour, what are you doing?”

 
He glared at the two of them, then closed his eyes and concentrated. Distantly he heard himself reply. “I’m healing her. She’s too cold!”

Raven’s claw shattered the elemental’s left ear into ice splinters as she winged quickly away. The ice demon screamed in agony, trying to catch the falc, which turned and lurched forward again to catch it.

She went for its eyes. It shied back. Raven struck its misshapen nose, shearing it off. It cried out and stumbled. Its head struck her.
 Half dazed by the impact, Raven fought to wing away to safety.

 
Roaring in anger, it gestured at her. Icy wind plucked her from her climb and brought her crashing to the snow covered ground. Her wings quivered as she fought to keep conscious, but failed.

 
The elemental seemed to grin as it raised its foot to stomp on her.

 
“My, oh, my!” a black liveried woman shouted up at it. “Is that any way to treat a girl?”

 
With a growl, the elemental paused and stared. The woman’s sword was plain and unadorned. It was her black livery that decided for him. He marched away from the now fallen falc and raised his fist of solid ice.

 
He struck her.

Cle’or felt feverish, almost as if she were walking in a dream. The elemental’s fingers looked like blades of ice. She countered with her steel blade. The ice shattered, but the fingers still closed around her.

She prayed that whatever Balfour had done worked, or she was about to die.

The being of ice laughed with maniacal glee, raining snow on the black liveried woman, he clutched in his hand like a prize. It brought her close enough to see her death throws, then frowned.

  “Let go of me, Oaf!” she shouted at it.

 
Steam rose from its hand as she unceremoniously dropped from its quickly melting fingers. It screamed as she leaped upon its leg, water dripping from her.

 
It began to totter as its leg burst to steam and fell with a resounding thud. That was when she shivered. Balfour screamed, sensing the moment, “Cle’or!”

 
She paused, sword raised. “Damn!” then raced back toward her lord and Me’oh.

It shook itself. It did not understand. What mageries were being raised against it? The will that gave it life had not provided it the knowledge to deal with such threats as these.

 
It had sought to kill the black liveried humans who must be stopped at all costs. Yet, one attacked him burning it as if an elemental herself. Its purpose was to prevent the black liveried from discovering the bane buried here. But how could it?

 
The only answer it knew was to struggle to rise as its leg reformed. The liveried ones must not find what they seek. It turned to look toward the barrow and saw tracks in the snow leading up to it. It howled. They had

tricked it!

  It rose and raced to follow.

Fri’il saw the creature fall and hurried with difficulty through the mounting snow. She reached Raven, who lay, barely conscious, now in human form. She hugged her close, “Raven!  Raven, can you hear me!” When that drew no response, “Balfour! Over here! Please! Help!”

 
Me’oh trudged through the snow which had become thickest near the elemental and reached them. “Balfour will be here as soon as he can. Now, let me have a look at Raven.”

 
She shook her head, “She is not even cold, Fri’il. Being a wer, apparently, provides its own protection.”

 
Fri’il looked back at Raven worriedly. “Come on, wake up, Raven!”

 
“Give her time, young lady,” Me’oh muttered, feeling the bitter sting of the cold as she checked the girl’s pupils and heartbeat.

Cle’or returned, shivering. Balfour grabbed her close and threw his cloak about them both. Having raised her skin temperature to an incredibly high state, he judged that the tremendous cold might briefly allow her to survive against the creature. It had been a gamble – and if he were not careful might take an equally terrible price.

 
The one thing he had learned about Cle’or was that she was more than willing to pay that price as a matter of duty, honor, and pride. She fell, unconscious, from the strain as he focused his healing sense deep within her.

 
The fever was gone. Her blood slowed. He increased the pressure ever so slightly, willing starved tissues to enervation. He fed her his strength, willing himself to become the reserves he had catalyzed into pyrrhic glory.

 
He slumped forward and cradled her for a time. His eyes half opened as he saw the tremendous look of peace on her face. She looked beautiful to him at that moment and her eyelids fluttered.

 
Me’oh put her hand on Balfour’s shoulder as Cle’or’s eyes opened. The look of grim determination too quickly returned. “Balfour.”

 
“Welcome back,” he rasped.

 
“Raven’s in little better shape than the two of you seem,” Me’oh said.

 
Cle’or muttered, “What of the elemental?”

 
“It has gone to that barrow over there and seems to be searching for something. It is so distracted I think we could all escape from here.”

 
Balfour frowned, slowly disengaging from grasping Cle’or. “Where are Je’orj and Se’and?”

 
Shaking her head, Me’oh replied, “I don’t know for certain, but I think that, somehow, they found a way into that barrow."

 
“Wonderful,” Balfour whispered even as Cle’or abruptly drew him closer and kissed him firmly on the lips.

 
“What? What was that for?” he rasped, gasping for breath.

 
“For trusting me this time,” she replied.

 
“Uh, you’re welcome.” He would never understand her, he realized.   He had nearly killed her with this desperately insane technique.

 
Me’oh patted his shoulder, “If you two are finished, I think Balfour had best take a look at Raven.”

In the main vault, the ball on the pedestal that had been pitch black in color sensed the presence of the two people. Long forgotten sensations reached it. Emotions they were called. They were human, a man and a woman. The man was something of an enigma. He was armed only with a staff, which was glowing with a power that was not based on magery. There was also a feel about him, a foreignness beyond any foreignness the orb recognized. It chanced upon the enchantment overshadowing him, a geas.

 
She, however, brought the orbs widening attention.  She wore black livery and was rather well armed.  Sheathed daggers and a sword graced her person. Recognition galvanized the orb, which began to swirl with violet blue light.

 
She was Cathartan.

 
It was time. The orb awoke.

Defused beams of violet light suddenly radiated from the glass ball. It reached out and touched the far wall, silhouetting the scene painted on it of a silver-haired elvin figure, whose hand was upraised.

 
The image’s fingers appeared to close into a fist, then as Se’and and George stared, the wall moved backward and slid aside. The orb’s light brightened and the revealed room suddenly lit from within.

 
They walked into the chamber and saw the sarcophagus. Se’and gasped; it was beautiful. It was decorated as if it were a giant elf garbed in fine robes of gold and silver. Jewels graced the neck and crossed wrists.

 
“This puts the Pharaohs to shame,” George muttered.

 
“The who?”

 
“Sorry, before your time and, uh, world, my dear.”

 
Elvin runes of power were displayed along the sides as George walked around it. Staff glowed as it recorded on passive sensors.
:Permission to go to active scan of the interior.:

 
“Granted,” George muttered, “but keep it low level at first. We

don’t know what we might accidentally activate.”

  :Acknowledged…  Level 10 scan.:
The resolution flowed across George’s mind, a shadow, reflecting the form buried within came to his mind’s eye. The skeletal remains of humans and elves, although similar, were subtly different.

 
He was looking at a pure blood elf’s remains or at least as near to pure blood as he could ascertain from this method. Judging by the wealth displayed and the great care taken, he was likely a lord of one of the original forty elvin founding families of the Empire that Balfour had told him about.

 
George paused and pondered. Now why had the Summoning brought him here, of all places?

 
Se’and looked at the depictions on the wall and frowned. Wasn’t that a Cathartan? And what was she wearing… an exquisitely woven silver anklet? She felt drawn to it, trying to make out all its details.   She leaned forward and abruptly stiffened. She had the oddest feeling that she was looking at…

 
The wall suddenly shook and dust rained from the ceiling. They both looked up and knew that the elemental had found them in the tomb. The temperature dropped at least fifty degrees as she drew her sword. George left off his examination of the sarcophagus.

 
Confused, George turned to his companion… Time, reality, shifted around them.

The orb sensed them examining the crypt. Its light began to pool around the base of the pedestal, which slowly sank into the floor. Its purpose was

being made manifest.

  The Cathartan was here. It was time. What it safeguarded could be given over to her… or her – or her… Reality twisted as the man’s companion drew her sword… her short sword… her dagger.

 
The roof of the burial mound shook as something evil, fought past the wards that protected this hallowed place, attacking the tomb. The awareness that had awoken found itself seeing three different

Cathartans, and three different pasts, presents, and futures.

  The ceiling shook apart as the odd human’s mage staff flared, shielding them from the raining debris.

 
Priorities shifted. The awareness understood the danger directed against the Cathartan and her lord; they hastily fled the crypt as a chunk of the ceiling in the main vault collapsed. A freezing wind burst through the opening and a creature of ice and snow roared.

The awareness was startled by the appearance of the elemental. The Demonlord had laid a trap to prevent the fulfillment of the prophecy! This could not be permitted!

  As the creature reached into the vault, the orb’s awareness knew that it could not fulfill its mission and save the two humans both.

“Je’orj!” each black liveried woman shouted amid the shifting realities. They shoved him aside as the icy hand reached for them… Each dropped their weapon – and grabbed the dagger from the man’s sheath.

  Magery shied from the presence of the bane metal of the troll wrought blade. The elemental’s reaching fingers fell away, yet the frigid cold did not abate. The staff flared with light, but the elemental would not give up. It stuffed its body into the tomb intent on drowning them in snow and ice.

 
The orb did not understand the shifting reality, but recognized that fate had brought the promised champion to the MOMENT. No matter that she had a slight scar on her cheek, seemed far too young, or seemed, well, or far too blonde.

 
It chose, remembering that life and even prophecy were but a gamble at the whim of fate.  The orb flared red and shattered.

The explosion knocked them off their feet and into each other’s arms. Dust and stone rained down as snow and ice flooded around them. “Max power!” George rasped.