Dream of a Vast Blue Cavern

Chapter 2: Council Interrupted: Medoc

Medoc

General Medoc was covered from head to toe in greasy flames. The black, sticky, sweet smelling Fireblood coating his armor was similar to cababar fat, thick and flammable, but it was far more volatile; cababar fat burned with a gentle, clean flame, but this burned as if it would explode at any moment. It matched the mood of the troops as they approached Iskalon and their blood surged with adrenaline.

Medoc marched at the head of the ranks. The tunnel was wide enough for four to walk abreast. They had left the sloping Spiral Tunnel behind just now, and walked along flat, smooth, well-swept corridors. The air might have been cold; he could not tell. Here and there ice sparkled on the walls, melting away with their passing.

Behind him, twenty more Flames marched, Officers all, and behind them, a vat of Fireblood was pulled by two groaning cababar. Getting the thing up the steep tunnel had been a feat; the Semija had whipped the cababar nearly senseless. Medoc wondered how the other vats fared; there was a team of cababar for every twenty bodies in the throng that stretched all the way down to Chraun, over five thousand Flames strong. Marching beside their Flames, the Semija Warriors numbered nearly seven thousand. A strong army, with enough Fireblood to make Iskalon burn forever, as the King had ordered.

Medoc ordered a halt when they came to the place the scouts had reported, a widening of the Spiral where it branched into several different tunnels. A scout stood at each entrance. They snapped to attention when Medoc stood before them, waiting.

The nearest scout approached Medoc and bowed to his waist. Eagerness shone in his dark young eyes, and his lip had a permanent sneer. Medoc inclined his head briefly.  “Report.”

“A barricade waits, General. They have sealed all the tunnels ahead with sheer rock.”

“How thick?”

“At least several feet, General.”

“What else?”

“The tunnels all lead to the lake. The furthest left is the most direct, General. It also goes through their fungal caverns and stock dens.”

Medoc nodded a dismissal. The scouts disappeared into the rest of the army, and fresh scouts emerged to take their place. A barricade. No telling what forces were amassed on the other side. Medoc turned to face his troops. Only the first few would hear the address, but it would be passed from mouth to mouth down the line, all the way to Chraun.

“The time for War has come! Our King has willed it. The Fire Spirit wills it. He commands us through our holy King.”

Medoc paused, and wondered if twelve thousand bodies would be sufficient. He wondered how many would die, and how long it would take new recruits to fill the holes in his army. Iskalon's total Icer population was only about five thousand, but they would have at least ten thousand Warriors. And the battle would be fought on their ground. His Warriors would be wondering the same things.

“We may face a fiercely guarded city,” he continued. “We may be surrounded by icy cold waters. Some of us, it is true, will not return. Some of our lives will be shortened beyond repair. But we will be protected by the Blood of the Fire Spirit, which he has given to us for victory! With Fireblood, no cold will stop us! No water will drench us! No ice will pierce us!”

The troops cheered so loudly that they sounded like the roar of the lava river. For a moment Medoc imagined that the lava river had followed him up the Spiral Tunnel and awaited his commands. It was a comforting thought, to have the river at his back in this icy place.

“We will swoop into Iskalon like a tunnelfire, and destroy everything we do not capture or steal. We will take all their jewels. We will take all their Semija. We will plunder their mines and loot their sacred ice shafts! We will burn their houses and leave them crippled so that they can never threaten our realm again!”

As he spoke, thoughts that he could not speak out loud to his Warriors loomed in the back of his mind. Threaten the realm? The idea was absurd. There were twice as many Flames as Icers. And as far as Medoc knew, the Icers did not have anything that could keep them cold in Chraun. The neighboring kingdom might occasionally raid the outer Semija caverns, but that was practically a boon when Chraun was overcrowded.

His words traveled down the line of Warriors, and cheers and yells of agreement continued to well up from the tunnel, growing so loud that Medoc could barely hear himself. They were ready. “Come win Glory for the realm of Fire!”

He turned on his heel and marched stiffly. The roar behind him cut off, followed by a moment of silence. It was so quiet that he could hear his thick metal boots clanging against stone. Then the ring of the boots of the Flame behind Medoc joined his, then the next, and the next, until the tunnel was filled with the uniform sound of the army’s march. A warning for the Icers, but it did not matter. He had seen their scouts, knew they watched his army's every move. It did not matter. Their ice would be no match for his army of fire, his lava river.

As he marched, Medoc pondered the King’s command to take the princesses alive. Dynat had always had some strange obsession with them. He had ordered Medoc to attempt raids in the heart of Iskalon, even sent in Semija posing as escapees. All those attempts had failed miserably. Was this whole war just to capture the princesses? Medoc would have expected to capture a few of the members of the Royal Family for questioning, and to help keep the other prisoners under control, but Dynat's command to kill the king but bring in all thirteen princesses alive made no sense at all. Did he wish, as Medoc had inferred to the troops, to make Semija out of Icers, and have a bevy of royal attendants? Then why not the Ice King himself? Did Dynat intend to lie with the Ice Princesses? Chraun would disapprove, if that were the case. The thought of a Flame and an Icer bedding was revolting to any decent person.

Medoc pushed away that disgusting thought. It was not his duty to question orders, but to obey them. He reached the barrier; it was time now to put all questions aside and act. He ordered five Flames forward. They placed their hands on the wall. He could almost see the T'Jas flow from their hands to the rock. The rock melted away like ice, pooling at their feet and receding into the tunnel walls. When the stone opened completely, Medoc could see only a cave full of ice fog. The air smelled sweet and musty. This was the fungal cavern the scout had reported. The troops could eat after they had taken it, before moving on toward the lake. He stepped forward, raising both flaming hands toward the ceiling, drinking T'Jas deeply from his lava and his coating of fire.

“Company, advance!” he shouted. In spite of his doubts, the thrill of battle sang in his veins. He heard the swell of bodies behind him, moving forward, propelling him eagerly toward the waiting cold. The world erupted into a chaos of fire and ice.