Dream of a Vast Blue Cavern

Chapter 4: Holding Grimshore: Stasia

 Stasia clung to Glace's hand as the entire cavern shook around her. She was not certain that the booms wouldn't shake the Palace right off the ceiling. Her head was still thick and muzzy with blissi. She could scarcely believe that the Flames had come so close to Iskalon. And Zental dead, along with thousands more. Glace had been vague about the numbers of Warriors returning in the retreat, but she knew that Zental would not have put himself in danger unless his forces were sorely depleted. 

 Stasia let the vision of a recent Dream slide over her normal vision so she could see through the fog over the lake. But what she saw with Dream-sight was the lake on a normal day, fishing skiffs littering its surface, raihan and people and molebear carts crossing bridges that now were completely underwater. She released the Dream, disturbed by the image of everyday Iskalon juxtaposed with what she knew was coming. Dreaming was proving to be completely useless. Stasia had always felt different, like she was something special because of her Dreams—Cataya Reborn, a scribe had once called her, half-jesting, until her father heard and put an end to it. But now she felt like a useless burden, a waste of space. If only Father had allowed her to lead troops, or assist Pasten.

 The cavern shook again as the fog rolled back over her vision. The fog parted before a flicker of light in the tunnel where the Fire Bridge had once terminated. The tunnels had been breached.

 As quickly as it had appeared, the fire faded. Stasia saw Icers hovering above the opening, concentrating intensively on resealing the breach. More Icers hovered over the other entrances, and even more waited to their sides, ready to pick off Flames as they walked through. Stasia grasped Glace's hand more tightly. Those Icers would be the first to die, if the Flames broke through.

 The same bright lights flickered beyond the King's bridge, and then beyond the Bridge of Prosperity, then died as those tunnels were resealed. There had to be something Stasia could do, some way she could help fight off the Flames. She had her armor, she had a Warrior by her side. Whatever her father had ordered, she would not stand helplessly by and watch people die.

 A great, echoing crack split her head and deafened her ears. Before her eyes, the entire wall of the cavern of Iskalon, as far around the lake as she could see from the window, broke apart and exploded into flame. Roaring, burning boulders hurled out of the walls and dove into the lake. Stasia realized that they were cababar on fire. The Icers by the wall had been thrown back by the explosion. Some were rising from the lake, others hovered over its surface, lifting the water high. Wave after wave washed the gaping, horizontal crack in the cavern wall. Steam billowed back out of the opening, obscuring the battle along with fog and smoke, but not before Stasia saw one Icer, and then another, and another, burst into flame in mid-air and fall back to the water.

 "My hand, Stasia," Glace murmured beside her, not taking his eyes off the scene before them. Stasia looked down and realized she had dug crescents in his skin with her nails, she was gripping his hand so hard. She relaxed her grip and took a breath. She had never seen anyone die before.

 "It is so pointless, Glace. They didn't have to die. Why are they doing this to us?" Tears were leaking from her eyes and she couldn't stop them, couldn't even try.

 Glace put his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her to face him. His eyes were sad, but his voice was firm. "I know that you aren't used to battle, Prince—Stas. But I need you to stay strong right now. We have to be ready to get to the lake if the Palace looks to fall."

 She took more deep breaths and found that she could be strong. "Yes. I can get us out of here. But the lake, Glace? Why?"

 His expression grew strange and closed, and he said, "Because it will be cold." Then he turned back to the window. Stasia wondered for a moment, staring at him, afraid to look out the window again and see more people, probably people she knew, dying. And then she realized what he was trying to spare her. Iskalon could fall today. The city could burn and the Palace could melt, and there would be nowhere safe except the lake. And even that—how long could she maintain the power to keep them alive down there? She would have to sleep sometime, and then they would drown. But drowning would be better than burning.