Chapter Three: Mist and Magic
Ice topped mountain peaks gleamed with the first rays of morning. It was still dusky when they reached the hills, but the faint light was enough to spy the terrain ahead. As far as the eye could see the hills were covered with snow. Some parts were thick with trees that were so powdered they were barely visible against the white landscape. It was not snowing, but an occasional wind blew through laden branches to dust the air. With cloaks to dampen the cold, they followed a trail that took them into the trees and bent north, riding at a casual pace as they scanned the area. The path sloped suddenly, dropping steeply, and they halted their horses. They were about to proceed when Efkin paused a moment. He looked at the trees then at the snow on the ground. He did not detect sorcery, but his expression was troubled. "What is it?" asked Ebin. "Do you hear anything?" Ebin shook his head. "Where are the birds?" Efkin said. "Where are any of the creatures that stir in these parts?" Ebin raised a brow. "That is curious." "Men have passed this way, but there is barely an ant that still dwells here." "What force is acting on these woods?" Efkin hesitated. "There is no sorcery at work here. Not at this moment. But there is something." He stared again at the blanket of snow that covered the ground, glistening in the pale light. To the eye, it seemed like any snow that collects on the ground, but schooled as he was in arts that fostered stronger perception, he gleaned something more, something unseen. It was nothing he could identify, a vague, aberrant aura that clung to the snow so subtly he could barely detect it. "What is it?" asked Ebin. "Something strange," Efkin said baffled. "Sorcery?" "No, whatever power exerts itself does so without bending or violating any natural laws." "Did it send the birds away?" Efkin shook his head. "The force is too benign to repel any creatures." They stood a while staring at the trees as the crooning wind stirred a mist in the air. It swept their cloaks and sighed through the hills. Their horses snorted, suddenly agitated. They stomped nervously, backing away from the slope. A tight grip on the reins held them in place, but nothing could calm them. "How benign is this force?" asked Ebin. They heard a sound, like the crack of rock splitting. A sudden gust blew drifts of snow that swirled and clouded the air for a moment. Then a queer light flashed. Struggling with their horses, they peered through the haze and were both surprised to find something glowing. It hung in the air some distance away, a pulsing, crimson light. They stared at it and noticed with more surprise that the snow beneath it quickly melted away. The strange radiance grew brighter. They heard a crackling noise and felt a rush of warm air. Suddenly a flame appeared in the flickering light. It hovered in the air, burning without any apparent source, and then took form; licks of flame sprouted like arms from a fiery mass like a torso, topped with a blazing, faceless head. The crackling thing jerked one way and then the other, moving in a blur, and for some moments it was impossible to perceive its form. Then it paused in the air, holding very still, as if it had become suddenly aware of something. The elves had the unnerving sense that they were under its gaze. They stared at the fire being, trying to guess its intentions. There was no expression to interpret, only flickering flames and heat. Efkin reached for Harbinger. The sword was silent, so he knew he did not face a demon, but it was still a fierce looking thing. He placed a hand on the hilt of the blade. The being let out a screech that startled the horses. They reared and kicked in a panic, nearly casting the elves off their backs. The air grew warmer. The flames leapt higher. Efkin eyed the faceless thing, ready to draw his blade. He could not guess what kind of being they had stumbled upon, but he deemed its alien tongue did not utter a greeting. The creatures that normally dwelt in this wood were nowhere to be seen, and likely they had good reason to leave. Another screech issued from the flaming mass, and then a noise like a crackling cough, or perhaps it was laughter. It climbed higher in the air and then raised its glowing arms in a sudden motion, but before it completed the movement, a powerful blast of wind struck the being with a force that sent it reeling back. Its flames wavered for a moment, flickering violently with the impact. Then it recovered its form, and appeared to fold its arms across its chest, as if taking a moment to consider the situation. "Well played," Ebin said. "Let's see what this ruffian intends now." Before Efkin could reply, the fire being motioned again. Once more, Efkin countered, summoning servants of the air to repel the attack, but this time the windy barrier was breached and both elves fell off their horses, narrowly avoiding two licks of flame that flashed like whips. It was an unexpected turn that Efkin could not explain. Somehow this being had overcome a defense that not even a dragon's fire could penetrate. But there was no time to ponder this impossibility with the threat of another flaming volley so close at hand. Springing from the snow, he drew Harbinger at last. The being screeched suddenly. It flitted in the air for a moment, as if confused. Efkin was surprised. How could it know the power of the blade? He raised the gleaming sword high, his concentration divided between physical movement and sustaining the windy barrier. Servants of the air shimmered around him. He could rely on their defense to diminish the force of an attack, but not absorb it entirely, so he informed them of his intention to fly, hoping to dodge the flames. The fire being shrieked and, in a surprising move, soared up into the clouds, appearing to retreat. It blazed across the sky, climbing higher and higher. Then it stopped suddenly. It jerked up and down, wailing horribly, as if it wanted to go higher, but strained an invisible leash. It paused a moment, crackling in the air. Then, without warning, it fell earthward, shooting back toward them. Efkin readied himself for another attack, but the being changed its course, swerving to the mountains on their right. It streaked by, a fiery blur against the stark ice, screaming as it fled. In a flash it disappeared, but its piercing cry lingered a while, echoing in the hills. As it faded, they heard another sound, a rumbling noise that grew steadily louder. At once, Efkin realized their predicament, understanding now why the being had turned to the mountains. A moment later, he braced for the avalanche that fell upon them, an instinctive reflex, for he could already see the breezy spirits diverting the sliding mass away from them, blowing the snow to either side so that it flowed and piled around them. It came down like a tide and for some moments a spray of mist clouded the air. When the snowfall began to diminish Efkin let himself relax a bit. He sheathed his sword and turned to Ebin. If he had known where he stood, above a hidden cavern, he might have taken more care in his step, for even though the ice under his feet was firm and would under normal conditions support his weight, so immense was the accumulation of snow that the ice cracked. Even as he fell he tried to sustain the wind barrier to shield Ebin. He might have succeeded, but a heap of snow chased him down the chasm and plugged the gap, cutting off communication with the wind spirits. Almost immediately, Ebin received the tide of snow with an impact that hurled him into a tree. Unconscious, Ebin did not hear the horses that approached. He could not see the black armor the riders wore. Likewise, they did not see him, buried as he was in the snow. But from inside a decorated carriage, a keen eye spied something amidst the white powder. A casual glance became a curious probe and the carriage halted. Then a man stepped out, his gaze fixed on a black spot in the snow. The portly fellow went to examine it. A moment later he stared with interest at a gloved hand that stuck out of the snow. Mirisinar called to his men and one of them came off his horse. Then, seizing a slender wrist, the man pulled the elf out of the snow. Mirisinar gasped. A part of him wanted to flee, but he stared at the being and gleaned from his attire that he was not an elven lord. Still, he could not be too careful. He snapped his fingers and the man next to him went into the carriage for a moment, then reappeared with shackles. He watched the man bind the elf, locking his wrists in iron restraints and attaching these to a chain around the elf's waist. At last he grinned as the man locked fetters on his legs and threw him into the carriage. He expected no mystic arts from this elf, and if it was true that elves could work no magical craft with their hands bound, he was doubly satisfied. He stepped into the carriage and looked at his exotic prize, bound and helpless. Then his gaze went east to Gammod-Dhol.
****
Efkin felt cold when he awoke. His head hurt. He tried to get up, but something restricted his movement. Then he realized he was covered with snow. With some effort, he dug himself out. He had taken a hard blow, but no blood stained the snow. Turning his attention to his surroundings, he was at once surprised at the enormity of the cavern. He glanced up at the distant ceiling, looking for any gap in the ice, but the avalanche had sealed the breach. He could not summon elementals in this closed space. He concentrated, employing his arts to probe the area with his mind, sending his awareness up to the surface, perceiving the trees and rocks and ice, yet there was no trace of Ebin. Most likely he gathered men and shovels to dig him out. It seemed like a reasonable assumption, or at least a rationale that avoided some other less pleasant scenarios. Before he could explore the possibilities something very curious caught his attention. With no opening for the sun to penetrate, where did the light come from? Surely there must be some egress through which morning rays entered. He looked for a hole in the ice and could not find even a slight crack. The cavern was lit by some invisible source. He might have dwelled on this phenomenon, but he noticed something else that was peculiar. The cavern was oddly smooth. The floor was flat with no slant to blemish its even surface and the icy walls rose up perfectly straight to meet the sheer ceiling. The symmetry was so deliberate the whole space seemed less like a cavern and more like a great hall. He took a few steps and became aware of a bend at the far end of the cave. As he went toward it he noticed it curved evenly, as if finely cut. His curiosity growing, he followed the turn into an adjacent cavern where he made a startling discovery. Two rows of columns ran along either side of the cave. There could be no doubt. Someone, or something, dwelt here. His hand went to Harbinger's hilt. He was not afraid, but prudence demanded a measure of caution. Moving as quietly as he could, he stepped toward the columns. They were tall, rising up to the ceiling, and perfectly round. At first glance, they seemed like crystal, but a closer look revealed they were made of ice. Efkin stared at the glistening pillars. They were enormous and, he guessed, most likely produced by powerful ice magic, but beyond their impressive size there was something else. They were made with exquisite care. He touched one of the columns. The ice was smooth and flawless. The pillars were clearly designed for structural support, but their elegance of form went beyond any practical concerns. The whole cavern showed an aesthetic sensibility that resembled the work of an artist. He found an archway and walked a few paces down a slanted passage then he came into a wide space. The chamber seemed empty at first glance, but then Efkin perceived the crystal shapes that stood all around, so transparent they were almost invisible. He stepped toward one of the statues, a hooded figure with a staff, and examined it closely. It stood the full height of a man, impeccably detailed and made entirely of ice. The robe gave the figure some bulk at the shoulders, but the belted waist revealed a slender form. Through gaping sleeves two delicate hands emerged, the right one holding a staff. Except for the mouth and chin, most of the face was hidden under the hood. Next he found a taller figure. A visored helmet and plates of armor left no part of its body uncovered. Efkin stared at the impressive sculpture. Even the straps of the plates had been meticulously detailed, curls of ice that slipped through tiny crystal buckles. Whoever made it possessed more than a rudimentary knowledge of arms. Yet there was something else, a detail that seemed to counter the severe attire. In a gesture of greeting, a gauntleted hand extended. Or was it an invitation to battle? He looked at the helmet. The hinges were so masterfully done, it looked like the visor could open. Just to prove to himself that it could not, he placed his hand on it, then gasped as it swung up to reveal a face. He glanced at the sword. He gave the hilt a pull and a glassy blade slid out of the sheath. It was uncanny. Every piece was an individual part of a perfect replica. Behind the knight he found a great harp. He stepped toward it and saw it had many crystal threads in place of strings. Very carefully, he touched one of the strands with a finger and was startled when he felt it yield. He let it go and the icy thread sounded with a twang. Astonished, he stood a moment staring at the harp. This magic was so potent it was almost absurd. Who dwelt here? What power exerted such impossible influence? He heard movement. Turning quickly, he found a young man in front of him. The lad was unarmed. His clothes, as white as snow, were very light and seemed a peculiar choice for this frigid clime, but he did not appear cold. More curious was his casual demeanor. An intruder had entered his lair and he showed no hint of concern. Weaponless and without armor, he regarded the inhuman swordsman with a passive gaze. He stood as tall as Efkin, though a bit leaner, with brown hair that swept his forehead. He was a handsome youth with a kind face, but there was something unnerving about his composure. Suddenly, a mist swirled around his right hand. It spun shimmering toward the floor, growing in length, and then took form, becoming a blade of ice. Efkin almost drew Harbinger, but the youth did not advance. He stood very still, his crystal sword agleam in his hand. His eyes stared unblinking at the elf for a moment. Then he smiled and the icy blade vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "Forgive me," he said. "It has been some time since I have seen an elf." Though surprised, Efkin did not suspect a ruse, sensing no guile in this youth. He took his hand off Harbinger's hilt and stepped forward. "I cannot say I have seen your kind before," he replied. The young man laughed. "I assure you, I am quite human. Made of flesh and blood like any other man." "Not like any men I have seen." "I suppose not," the youth said. He fell silent, apparently disturbed by the remark. "Did you make these figures?" The young man nodded, his gaze on the floor. "They are quite extraordinary," Efkin waited for him to reply, but he stayed quiet. He seemed very young, not a fully mature man yet, but not a child either. His youth might explain his lack of social poise, but there was also this cavernous abode beneath the earth. Efkin guessed he did not receive many visitors, dwelling here in isolation. But he did not seem like a hermit who enjoyed his solitude. "I have seen similar work," Efkin said, breaking the silence. "In Rian." The young man raised his head with immediate interest. "Have you?" "Yes, the mayor of Rii showed me a figurine." The boy's expression lifted. For a moment he seemed delighted that his handiwork had gained some notice. Then he stared at the floor again. "I can imagine what he must have said about it." "Ice does tend to melt." The lad sighed. "They must be hysterical with talk of sorcery." Efkin smiled. "The mayor has not shared his find with the public, but you must understand his concern." "I understand it," the lad replied, "but I don't like it. I am no sorcerer." "I assured the mayor his figurine is not the work of sorcery. But it is a curious item that raises many questions." The lad appeared to wince. "I knew this would happen. I told the dwarves to be careful, but I knew they would sell to anyone." He shook his head. "We all look alike to them. They perceive so much that is hidden to us, but subtleties of dress and posture do not weigh heavily with them." He paced the floor, agitated. If he had taken a mild pleasure at having his work recognized it quickly faded. He mumbled scornful rants, like a troubled loner who despised the attention of others. A loner he certainly was, but not a genuine recluse. To deal with dwarves required a measure of tact that was, in most cases, impossible for one who had grown immune to the world. "The dwarves are helping you to sell your work?" He shook his head. "Some time ago a band of dwarves came here with a desperate tale. They said a wicked gnome had captured one of their members and they needed to raise money for his ransom. I gave them some items they could sell, but warned them to keep away from the cities. I knew word would spread, but with so many suspicions and accusations coming from small towns, officials tend to receive cries of sorcery with a deaf ear." "I would not worry about the mayor," Efkin said. "He wants to avoid any commotion. He is also quite occupied at the moment with a recent flood." "Their fear of sorcery is too great. A flood will not distract them." "I am certain this one will," Efkin replied. "It was caused by four giants who came striding through the ocean." "Giants?" the boy said surprised. "That is the reason I came, to learn their interest here." "You spoke with the giants?" Efkin nodded. "They were just passing through, pursuing another giant, but people feared the worst. Some thought they had come to annihilate the human race." "Well, I suppose that could take their minds off sorcery." The boy sighed with relief, but Efkin detected he was less pleased than he tried to appear. In fact, he seemed a bit disappointed. Whether he longed for company or craved the excitement of being pursued, Efkin could not guess, but no doubt either case would ease the monotony of his present condition. "Where is the light coming from?" "From the sun," the youth smiled. "The ice above is clear as glass. An illusion makes it seem opaque." Efkin stared up at the ceiling, astonished by the powerful magic. He wanted to know more about the youth's abilities and why he lived underground, but knew he must probe into such matters with care. "This lair is enormous. It must have taken some time to construct." The lad shrugged. "A few weeks." "Did the dwarves assist you?" "No, I did it myself." He sighed, as if wearied by the thought of his labors. "There was so much rock to break. At first I tried brute force, throwing volleys of ice to smash through it, but this chiseled the rock too slowly. Then I discovered I could clear the rock faster by freezing the earth around it, exploiting cracks to seep inside the rock and break it from within." Efkin tried to control his shock. The boy's powers exceeded anything he had imagined. "How long have you dwelt here?" The boy paused and his glance wandered among the crystal figures, as if counting them to determine the months that had passed. "Almost two years." He stared at the frozen statues, standing so still he almost looked like one himself. "Two years alone?" He nodded. "Why?" Now his gaze fell to the floor. "I am not like others." He stood with his head lowered a moment. "I tried to be like them, but I could not be." That he was unique was obvious, but Efkin gathered something more from his tone, a sensibility that did not easily conform to, or perhaps even recognize conventional opinion. Of course, he was still quite young. It was not uncommon for youths to shake their fists at the world, but few of them possessed the means to escape it, much less create an icy hideaway beneath it. "It was a cold winter some years ago," the boy continued. "I was too young to remember it, but I have been told that is when peculiar things started happening. The people who cared for me say a blizzard struck their house one night. They slept through most of it, but the next morning they were surprised to find a hole in their roof. Even more startling was the discovery that directly under this hole lay the infant they cared for, buried beneath a mound of snow in his crib. They dug him out at once, fearing the child might suffocate, but when they brushed the snow away a baffling thing was revealed; an icy shell had formed around the child. They lifted it and found the infant asleep and unharmed. Examining the crystal further they saw an odd protrusion extended from the shell like a glass straw. Fearing sorcery was at work, they tried to shatter it, but the icy thing was impossibly hard. They threw it in the fireplace where it melted at last." He stepped toward a pair of statues, a man and a woman, both so well conceived they looked like they might animate to receive him. "They watched the child closely for some time afterward. A year passed without incident, but still they were cautious. They did not tell others about the strange occurrence, knowing how talk of sorcery would spread. In fact, they barely spoke to anyone at all, withdrawing from friends and family, as if a wicked power had marked them and they must hide themselves, lest any others should be afflicted." He stared at the statues for a moment and brushed the hair from his face as if to make himself more presentable to the frozen pair. "I was seven years old when it happened again. Another child was bothering me. When he got physical he lost his footing on a sheet of ice. He got up and made to strike a blow, but a sudden drift of snow blew in his face. He might have persisted, but the snow hung in the air, blowing around him in bizarre patterns. Without betraying his fear, he walked calmly away. It was still early and there were many other children he had not yet accosted, but he rarely crossed my path again." As he spoke, mist curled from the floor and fell away. "I did not flaunt my abilities. I knew I wielded strange powers. For a long time my caregivers did not speak of my strangeness, but I could see they knew. They pretended I was a normal child for as long as they could." He paused a moment and his head lowered with the weight of his memories. "One morning I was playing in the snow with some other children. Most were throwing snowballs at each other, but a few others were making a snowman. Led by a restless, very creative girl, the young sculptors gathered piles of snow and quickly shaped a body with arms and legs. It was a fine snowman, but ... " He sighed. "Mine was a bit more realistic." "Yours?" He nodded. "It was my first piece and not the most accurate knight I have conceived. The armor was uneven and the sword could have been longer, but I think the horse was nearly perfect." "The horse?" "He was riding a horse," the boy explained. "The mane was the hardest part. It was less detailed than these crystal figures, but still too much, I suppose." "It sounds impressive." "It was foolish," the boy said. "I was not trying to frighten anyone." "Did the girl like it?" The youth seemed startled by the question, but then he smiled. "I forget how perceptive elves are. Yes, she liked it very much. I would have created something else for her, but my caregivers intervened. They rushed me away from the scene before others came. Fortunately the statue was directly under the sun and melted. It was my first piece and I still had much to learn about my peculiar talent." He raised a hand and the movement left a shimmering trail of ice crystals that hung in the air a moment before dissolving. "I did not realize what a commotion my snowman would stir. Word spread quickly that a young sorcerer was terrorizing children with his vile arts. There was such concern that local authorities came to our house to investigate. They asked me all sorts of questions and I was afraid they were going to take me away. Then the governor appeared at our door and everything changed. He came with four knights and restored the peace." "It is fortunate that he came," Efkin said. "He is a friend of the family," the boy replied. "Broel's sister is his wife." Efkin raised a brow at this. He had thought the boy was an orphan, but now he considered an intriguing scenario. What if the boy's parents had sent him to live elsewhere? Perhaps they asked a trusted friend, the governor, to place him in a good family and watch over him. "And what of your parents?" he asked the boy. The youth lowered his head. "I do not know my parents. They sent me here soon after I was born." Efkin received this confirmation with a grim expression, aware he had stumbled upon a conspiracy of silence. He was certain the boy was being protected and no one had told him. "Some urgent matter demanded their attention and I was sent here, or so I was told. They would come for me as soon as they could. Each year I have waited for them to come." His voice was almost a whisper as he stared at the floor. Then he raised his head and continued. "After the snowman incident I was careful. I suppressed my powers and pretended I was like the other children. But I was not like them. I am not like anyone." He fell silent for a moment. "You ran away." The boy nodded. "I could not stay there, I am not normal." "You are an artist." Efkin stepped closer to the youth. "You have a gift, that is all. You are a normal lad with an unusual gift." The boy forced a smile, but plainly was not convinced. Efkin knew he would not change the boy's opinion of himself with kind words. He could not erase years of loneliness. Still, he might plant a seed of hope. The youth sighed. "I expect they will be talking about giants for some time," he said, "but the mayor must have another concern or he would not send you into the hills." "That is true," Efkin replied. "Aside from his curiosity about the chill weather of this region, he is also dealing with reports of a fire being." "The gnome's demon." Efkin was startled, not just by the notion that a gnome had usurped a demon, which seemed absurd, but also by the lad's apparent indifference to such entities. "The dwarves said they encountered the fiend some days ago. They were heading for market to sell their wares when a gnome ambushed them. They say he displayed extraordinary powers. It is well known that gnomes can exert some influence over metal, at times willing small items like coins or bracelets to move, but this gnome was unusually strong. With a gesture he bound them in chains that leapt through the air. He spoke a while of his great powers and as proof of his abilities summoned a fire demon, boasting that he commanded a legion of such beings, but the dwarves say he could barely control the one that he summoned and, after narrowly dodging a lick of flame, sent the unruly thing away. He said he needed them to dig up some gold. He showed them a map and told them where to dig. Then he left with one of the bound dwarves hovering beside him, lifted off the ground by his chains. They do not know where he took the prisoner." "Did the gnome leave instructions on how to contact him when their work is done?" "No, he said his fire demon would be watching them." "Then he is near," Efkin surmised. "The creature appeared at this location some moments ago. If the gnome is summoning it, he cannot be far." "We might look for him, but he is a crafty fellow with a demon to spy our movements." "It is no demon," Efkin assured. This surprised the lad. "What is it?" "I do not know. I have not encountered such a thing before, but it is not a demon." "It would be odd," the boy conceded, "for a gnome to conjure a demon," "How he conjures anything is a mystery," Efkin said. At that moment, Efkin noticed a shadow creeping almost invisibly across the floor. He perceived iron. He turned his gaze up and was surprised to find the stench came from the breast plate of a hovering gnome. He might have been astonished by the coincidence, but the shock of Harbinger flying out of its sheath and into the gnome's hand was far more alarming. The gnome uttered strange words that taxed his throat. Before he could react, Efkin was startled by a flash of flame. It streaked past him and twisted round the chamber. Then it screamed. Suddenly, two wavering arms formed in the fire. Now the faceless head appeared. It screamed again and sent two licks of flame shooting across the room. One struck the floor, but the other curled up, poking a hole through the icy ceiling. Efkin looked at the gap. It was a fortunate turn. He concentrated and a powerful breeze swept into the chamber. Suddenly Harbinger leapt out of the gnome's grasp. Efkin received the blade from the servants of the air. He turned to the fire being. The creature shot toward him and he thrust his silver blade into the flaming torso. There was a flash of light that made him blink and when he opened his eyes the screaming thing was gone. Efkin was surprised. He expected Harbinger would have some effect on the creature, considering how it reacted when he first drew the blade, but he did not think the sword would utterly banish the creature from the material plane. The gnome was equally baffled, but had no time to dwell on the matter. Still hovering in the air, he threw a vial at the floor. It broke with a crash and fumes spread into the air. Instantly, the chamber was filled with smoke. The gnome might have escaped, if not for one careless mistake. Seized by a pair of hands, he realized the blunder. No veil of smoke could hide his iron from the elf. A moment later he was on the floor, bereft of his armor. The elf tossed the metal plate aside so that he could not use it to levitate. His dagger was also taken from him. Assailing the scarlet lord had been imprudent, but the gnome still had some surprises.
****
Efkin felt cold when he awoke. His head hurt. He tried to get up, but something restricted his movement. Then he realized he was covered with snow. With some effort, he dug himself out. He had taken a hard blow, but no blood stained the snow. Turning his attention to his surroundings, he was at once surprised at the enormity of the cavern. He glanced up at the distant ceiling, looking for any gap in the ice, but the avalanche had sealed the breach. He could not summon elementals in this closed space. He concentrated, employing his arts to probe the area with his mind, sending his awareness up to the surface, perceiving the trees and rocks and ice, yet there was no trace of Ebin. Most likely he gathered men and shovels to dig him out. It seemed like a reasonable assumption, or at least a rationale that avoided some other less pleasant scenarios. Before he could explore the possibilities something very curious caught his attention. With no opening for the sun to penetrate, where did the light come from? Surely there must be some egress through which morning rays entered. He looked for a hole in the ice and could not find even a slight crack. The cavern was lit by some invisible source. He might have dwelled on this phenomenon, but he noticed something else that was peculiar. The cavern was oddly smooth. The floor was flat with no slant to blemish its even surface and the icy walls rose up perfectly straight to meet the sheer ceiling. The symmetry was so deliberate the whole space seemed less like a cavern and more like a great hall. He took a few steps and became aware of a bend at the far end of the cave. As he went toward it he noticed it curved evenly, as if finely cut. His curiosity growing, he followed the turn into an adjacent cavern where he made a startling discovery. Two rows of columns ran along either side of the cave. There could be no doubt. Someone, or something, dwelt here. His hand went to Harbinger's hilt. He was not afraid, but prudence demanded a measure of caution. Moving as quietly as he could, he stepped toward the columns. They were tall, rising up to the ceiling, and perfectly round. At first glance, they seemed like crystal, but a closer look revealed they were made of ice. Efkin stared at the glistening pillars. They were enormous and, he guessed, most likely produced by powerful ice magic, but beyond their impressive size there was something else. They were made with exquisite care. He touched one of the columns. The ice was smooth and flawless. The pillars were clearly designed for structural support, but their elegance of form went beyond any practical concerns. The whole cavern showed an aesthetic sensibility that resembled the work of an artist. He found an archway and walked a few paces down a slanted passage then he came into a wide space. The chamber seemed empty at first glance, but then Efkin perceived the crystal shapes that stood all around, so transparent they were almost invisible. He stepped toward one of the statues, a hooded figure with a staff, and examined it closely. It stood the full height of a man, impeccably detailed and made entirely of ice. The robe gave the figure some bulk at the shoulders, but the belted waist revealed a slender form. Through gaping sleeves two delicate hands emerged, the right one holding a staff. Except for the mouth and chin, most of the face was hidden under the hood. Next he found a taller figure. A visored helmet and plates of armor left no part of its body uncovered. Efkin stared at the impressive sculpture. Even the straps of the plates had been meticulously detailed, curls of ice that slipped through tiny crystal buckles. Whoever made it possessed more than a rudimentary knowledge of arms. Yet there was something else, a detail that seemed to counter the severe attire. In a gesture of greeting, a gauntleted hand extended. Or was it an invitation to battle? He looked at the helmet. The hinges were so masterfully done, it looked like the visor could open. Just to prove to himself that it could not, he placed his hand on it, then gasped as it swung up to reveal a face. He glanced at the sword. He gave the hilt a pull and a glassy blade slid out of the sheath. It was uncanny. Every piece was an individual part of a perfect replica. Behind the knight he found a great harp. He stepped toward it and saw it had many crystal threads in place of strings. Very carefully, he touched one of the strands with a finger and was startled when he felt it yield. He let it go and the icy thread sounded with a twang. Astonished, he stood a moment staring at the harp. This magic was so potent it was almost absurd. Who dwelt here? What power exerted such impossible influence? He heard movement. Turning quickly, he found a young man in front of him. The lad was unarmed. His clothes, as white as snow, were very light and seemed a peculiar choice for this frigid clime, but he did not appear cold. More curious was his casual demeanor. An intruder had entered his lair and he showed no hint of concern. Weaponless and without armor, he regarded the inhuman swordsman with a passive gaze. He stood as tall as Efkin, though a bit leaner, with brown hair that swept his forehead. He was a handsome youth with a kind face, but there was something unnerving about his composure. Suddenly, a mist swirled around his right hand. It spun shimmering toward the floor, growing in length, and then took form, becoming a blade of ice. Efkin almost drew Harbinger, but the youth did not advance. He stood very still, his crystal sword agleam in his hand. His eyes stared unblinking at the elf for a moment. Then he smiled and the icy blade vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "Forgive me," he said. "It has been some time since I have seen an elf." Though surprised, Efkin did not suspect a ruse, sensing no guile in this youth. He took his hand off Harbinger's hilt and stepped forward. "I cannot say I have seen your kind before," he replied. The young man laughed. "I assure you, I am quite human. Made of flesh and blood like any other man." "Not like any men I have seen." "I suppose not," the youth said. He fell silent, apparently disturbed by the remark. "Did you make these figures?" The young man nodded, his gaze on the floor. "They are quite extraordinary," Efkin waited for him to reply, but he stayed quiet. He seemed very young, not a fully mature man yet, but not a child either. His youth might explain his lack of social poise, but there was also this cavernous abode beneath the earth. Efkin guessed he did not receive many visitors, dwelling here in isolation. But he did not seem like a hermit who enjoyed his solitude. "I have seen similar work," Efkin said, breaking the silence. "In Rian." The young man raised his head with immediate interest. "Have you?" "Yes, the mayor of Rii showed me a figurine." The boy's expression lifted. For a moment he seemed delighted that his handiwork had gained some notice. Then he stared at the floor again. "I can imagine what he must have said about it." "Ice does tend to melt." The lad sighed. "They must be hysterical with talk of sorcery." Efkin smiled. "The mayor has not shared his find with the public, but you must understand his concern." "I understand it," the lad replied, "but I don't like it. I am no sorcerer." "I assured the mayor his figurine is not the work of sorcery. But it is a curious item that raises many questions." The lad appeared to wince. "I knew this would happen. I told the dwarves to be careful, but I knew they would sell to anyone." He shook his head. "We all look alike to them. They perceive so much that is hidden to us, but subtleties of dress and posture do not weigh heavily with them." He paced the floor, agitated. If he had taken a mild pleasure at having his work recognized it quickly faded. He mumbled scornful rants, like a troubled loner who despised the attention of others. A loner he certainly was, but not a genuine recluse. To deal with dwarves required a measure of tact that was, in most cases, impossible for one who had grown immune to the world. "The dwarves are helping you to sell your work?" He shook his head. "Some time ago a band of dwarves came here with a desperate tale. They said a wicked gnome had captured one of their members and they needed to raise money for his ransom. I gave them some items they could sell, but warned them to keep away from the cities. I knew word would spread, but with so many suspicions and accusations coming from small towns, officials tend to receive cries of sorcery with a deaf ear." "I would not worry about the mayor," Efkin said. "He wants to avoid any commotion. He is also quite occupied at the moment with a recent flood." "Their fear of sorcery is too great. A flood will not distract them." "I am certain this one will," Efkin replied. "It was caused by four giants who came striding through the ocean." "Giants?" the boy said surprised. "That is the reason I came, to learn their interest here." "You spoke with the giants?" Efkin nodded. "They were just passing through, pursuing another giant, but people feared the worst. Some thought they had come to annihilate the human race." "Well, I suppose that could take their minds off sorcery." The boy sighed with relief, but Efkin detected he was less pleased than he tried to appear. In fact, he seemed a bit disappointed. Whether he longed for company or craved the excitement of being pursued, Efkin could not guess, but no doubt either case would ease the monotony of his present condition. "Where is the light coming from?" "From the sun," the youth smiled. "The ice above is clear as glass. An illusion makes it seem opaque." Efkin stared up at the ceiling, astonished by the powerful magic. He wanted to know more about the youth's abilities and why he lived underground, but knew he must probe into such matters with care. "This lair is enormous. It must have taken some time to construct." The lad shrugged. "A few weeks." "Did the dwarves assist you?" "No, I did it myself." He sighed, as if wearied by the thought of his labors. "There was so much rock to break. At first I tried brute force, throwing volleys of ice to smash through it, but this chiseled the rock too slowly. Then I discovered I could clear the rock faster by freezing the earth around it, exploiting cracks to seep inside the rock and break it from within." Efkin tried to control his shock. The boy's powers exceeded anything he had imagined. "How long have you dwelt here?" The boy paused and his glance wandered among the crystal figures, as if counting them to determine the months that had passed. "Almost two years." He stared at the frozen statues, standing so still he almost looked like one himself. "Two years alone?" He nodded. "Why?" Now his gaze fell to the floor. "I am not like others." He stood with his head lowered a moment. "I tried to be like them, but I could not be." That he was unique was obvious, but Efkin gathered something more from his tone, a sensibility that did not easily conform to, or perhaps even recognize conventional opinion. Of course, he was still quite young. It was not uncommon for youths to shake their fists at the world, but few of them possessed the means to escape it, much less create an icy hideaway beneath it. "It was a cold winter some years ago," the boy continued. "I was too young to remember it, but I have been told that is when peculiar things started happening. The people who cared for me say a blizzard struck their house one night. They slept through most of it, but the next morning they were surprised to find a hole in their roof. Even more startling was the discovery that directly under this hole lay the infant they cared for, buried beneath a mound of snow in his crib. They dug him out at once, fearing the child might suffocate, but when they brushed the snow away a baffling thing was revealed; an icy shell had formed around the child. They lifted it and found the infant asleep and unharmed. Examining the crystal further they saw an odd protrusion extended from the shell like a glass straw. Fearing sorcery was at work, they tried to shatter it, but the icy thing was impossibly hard. They threw it in the fireplace where it melted at last." He stepped toward a pair of statues, a man and a woman, both so well conceived they looked like they might animate to receive him. "They watched the child closely for some time afterward. A year passed without incident, but still they were cautious. They did not tell others about the strange occurrence, knowing how talk of sorcery would spread. In fact, they barely spoke to anyone at all, withdrawing from friends and family, as if a wicked power had marked them and they must hide themselves, lest any others should be afflicted." He stared at the statues for a moment and brushed the hair from his face as if to make himself more presentable to the frozen pair. "I was seven years old when it happened again. Another child was bothering me. When he got physical he lost his footing on a sheet of ice. He got up and made to strike a blow, but a sudden drift of snow blew in his face. He might have persisted, but the snow hung in the air, blowing around him in bizarre patterns. Without betraying his fear, he walked calmly away. It was still early and there were many other children he had not yet accosted, but he rarely crossed my path again." As he spoke, mist curled from the floor and fell away. "I did not flaunt my abilities. I knew I wielded strange powers. For a long time my caregivers did not speak of my strangeness, but I could see they knew. They pretended I was a normal child for as long as they could." He paused a moment and his head lowered with the weight of his memories. "One morning I was playing in the snow with some other children. Most were throwing snowballs at each other, but a few others were making a snowman. Led by a restless, very creative girl, the young sculptors gathered piles of snow and quickly shaped a body with arms and legs. It was a fine snowman, but ... " He sighed. "Mine was a bit more realistic." "Yours?" He nodded. "It was my first piece and not the most accurate knight I have conceived. The armor was uneven and the sword could have been longer, but I think the horse was nearly perfect." "The horse?" "He was riding a horse," the boy explained. "The mane was the hardest part. It was less detailed than these crystal figures, but still too much, I suppose." "It sounds impressive." "It was foolish," the boy said. "I was not trying to frighten anyone." "Did the girl like it?" The youth seemed startled by the question, but then he smiled. "I forget how perceptive elves are. Yes, she liked it very much. I would have created something else for her, but my caregivers intervened. They rushed me away from the scene before others came. Fortunately the statue was directly under the sun and melted. It was my first piece and I still had much to learn about my peculiar talent." He raised a hand and the movement left a shimmering trail of ice crystals that hung in the air a moment before dissolving. "I did not realize what a commotion my snowman would stir. Word spread quickly that a young sorcerer was terrorizing children with his vile arts. There was such concern that local authorities came to our house to investigate. They asked me all sorts of questions and I was afraid they were going to take me away. Then the governor appeared at our door and everything changed. He came with four knights and restored the peace." "It is fortunate that he came," Efkin said. "He is a friend of the family," the boy replied. "Broel's sister is his wife." Efkin raised a brow at this. He had thought the boy was an orphan, but now he considered an intriguing scenario. What if the boy's parents had sent him to live elsewhere? Perhaps they asked a trusted friend, the governor, to place him in a good family and watch over him. "And what of your parents?" he asked the boy. The youth lowered his head. "I do not know my parents. They sent me here soon after I was born." Efkin received this confirmation with a grim expression, aware he had stumbled upon a conspiracy of silence. He was certain the boy was being protected and no one had told him. "Some urgent matter demanded their attention and I was sent here, or so I was told. They would come for me as soon as they could. Each year I have waited for them to come." His voice was almost a whisper as he stared at the floor. Then he raised his head and continued. "After the snowman incident I was careful. I suppressed my powers and pretended I was like the other children. But I was not like them. I am not like anyone." He fell silent for a moment. "You ran away." The boy nodded. "I could not stay there, I am not normal." "You are an artist." Efkin stepped closer to the youth. "You have a gift, that is all. You are a normal lad with an unusual gift." The boy forced a smile, but plainly was not convinced. Efkin knew he would not change the boy's opinion of himself with kind words. He could not erase years of loneliness. Still, he might plant a seed of hope. The youth sighed. "I expect they will be talking about giants for some time," he said, "but the mayor must have another concern or he would not send you into the hills." "That is true," Efkin replied. "Aside from his curiosity about the chill weather of this region, he is also dealing with reports of a fire being." "The gnome's demon." Efkin was startled, not just by the notion that a gnome had usurped a demon, which seemed absurd, but also by the lad's apparent indifference to such entities. "The dwarves said they encountered the fiend some days ago. They were heading for market to sell their wares when a gnome ambushed them. They say he displayed extraordinary powers. It is well known that gnomes can exert some influence over metal, at times willing small items like coins or bracelets to move, but this gnome was unusually strong. With a gesture he bound them in chains that leapt through the air. He spoke a while of his great powers and as proof of his abilities summoned a fire demon, boasting that he commanded a legion of such beings, but the dwarves say he could barely control the one that he summoned and, after narrowly dodging a lick of flame, sent the unruly thing away. He said he needed them to dig up some gold. He showed them a map and told them where to dig. Then he left with one of the bound dwarves hovering beside him, lifted off the ground by his chains. They do not know where he took the prisoner." "Did the gnome leave instructions on how to contact him when their work is done?" "No, he said his fire demon would be watching them." "Then he is near," Efkin surmised. "The creature appeared at this location some moments ago. If the gnome is summoning it, he cannot be far." "We might look for him, but he is a crafty fellow with a demon to spy our movements." "It is no demon," Efkin assured. This surprised the lad. "What is it?" "I do not know. I have not encountered such a thing before, but it is not a demon." "It would be odd," the boy conceded, "for a gnome to conjure a demon," "How he conjures anything is a mystery," Efkin said. At that moment, Efkin noticed a shadow creeping almost invisibly across the floor. He perceived iron. He turned his gaze up and was surprised to find the stench came from the breast plate of a hovering gnome. He might have been astonished by the coincidence, but the shock of Harbinger flying out of its sheath and into the gnome's hand was far more alarming. The gnome uttered strange words that taxed his throat. Before he could react, Efkin was startled by a flash of flame. It streaked past him and twisted round the chamber. Then it screamed. Suddenly, two wavering arms formed in the fire. Now the faceless head appeared. It screamed again and sent two licks of flame shooting across the room. One struck the floor, but the other curled up, poking a hole through the icy ceiling. Efkin looked at the gap. It was a fortunate turn. He concentrated and a powerful breeze swept into the chamber. Suddenly Harbinger leapt out of the gnome's grasp. Efkin received the blade from the servants of the air. He turned to the fire being. The creature shot toward him and he thrust his silver blade into the flaming torso. There was a flash of light that made him blink and when he opened his eyes the screaming thing was gone. Efkin was surprised. He expected Harbinger would have some effect on the creature, considering how it reacted when he first drew the blade, but he did not think the sword would utterly banish the creature from the material plane. The gnome was equally baffled, but had no time to dwell on the matter. Still hovering in the air, he threw a vial at the floor. It broke with a crash and fumes spread into the air. Instantly, the chamber was filled with smoke. The gnome might have escaped, if not for one careless mistake. Seized by a pair of hands, he realized the blunder. No veil of smoke could hide his iron from the elf. A moment later he was on the floor, bereft of his armor. The elf tossed the metal plate aside so that he could not use it to levitate. His dagger was also taken from him. Assailing the scarlet lord had been imprudent, but the gnome still had some surprises.