Dream of a Vast Blue Cavern

Chapter 5: Whispers of Treason: Dynat

 Success, the Fire Spirit whispered into Dynat's mind. Its face shone clearly, all of its features flames, eyes glowing red hot like lava. Successsss, the flames of its lips hissed. Dynat basked in that voice, sank into the heat. He could almost see the Lava Lake beyond the burning ears. 

 “ . . . Complete success,” Medoc said, snapping Dynat out of his trance. The General stood stiffly in clean steel armor, his lava mesh glowing in sharp hexagonal patterns. “The lair of the Ice fairies belongs to us, Majesty.”

 “That is not entirely true, My King.” Bolv's eyes shone with glory and anger, nearly as bright as her feathery lava mesh.  “Many of the Icers and their humans fled the city through the lake. They hide in the Outer Tunnels. It will take time to gather them up.”

 “We must find them,” Dynat said.  “They will scratch away at us until we bleed.” So the Fire Spirit whispered to him, and he knew it to be true. “What of the prisoners? Have we the Princesses?”

 “They await questioning in the Pit Dungeon,” Medoc said.   

 Gooood . . .

 “Good. And they have not been questioned yet?”

 “We have been organizing the prisoners, and counting our own dead.” Medoc sounded tense. Perhaps he needed a rest, a time spent in the baths. “I did not think them an urgent matter.”

 Dynat stood, considering the forest of stalas that led to the entrance of his throne cavern. “You both have worked hard, winning this war. You will have until tomorrow to rest in the baths. I will handle our special prisoners. I do not want them questioned by anyone but myself.”

 This was the Fire Spirit’s command as well, and it was odd—Dynat had never questioned prisoners. The army had Officers trained to interrogate. Even if the information were sensitive, Bolv would be assigned the task. Indeed, Bolv was looking at him strangely now.  But the Fire Spirit was explicit in his hissing voice. No one except Dynat was to speak with the Princesses.

 “I will relay the order, Majesty.”

 “Good. Go. You have both earned a respite.” 

 Medoc saluted stiffly and marched out of Dynat's presence. Dynat's Kinyara gave him a wry look, then turned on the pointed metal heel of her shoe and swayed away. The Prince of Flames watched her hips swing as she left his presence.

 She isn't here, the Fire Spirit whispered in Dynat's mind. Find her.

 Dynat brushed the words away and tried to focus on the dim, circular pit before him. Only nine princesses huddled there beneath his stone ledge. The air simmered with heat, and lava trickled down the wall at Dynat's back. The heat would keep the prisoners from using their powers, and break their spirits, making questioning easy. Several of them seemed dead already, fainted or swooning on the sharp, hot rocks that lined the pit. Swirls of steam rose in several places where some had vomited. A few were still coherent enough to look up and glare hatred at Dynat. Each wore a slim tiara that glittered in the dim light.

 Their skin was bright red. They were bigger and more sturdy than Dynat had imagined Icers would be, though still much smaller than any Flame Dynat had ever met. The nearest one opened her eyes, and they were deep silvery blue, bright and moist, beautiful and fascinating. She pushed back wilted pale hair, and pierced Dynat with accusing eyes.

 Something deep within Dynat flickered and tried to feel a long forgotten emotion. Sorrow, guilt, remorse, and empathy paraded like shadows against the back of his brain. They flickered once, twice, three times and guttered out, dead flames leaving not even soot, swept away by the rush of voices that coalesced into one, the Fire Spirit. He burned with a fury in Dynat’s head, whispering until Dynat thought he would go mad. Where is sssshhhheeeeee? Where is the Dreamer?