Dream of a Vast Blue Cavern

Chapter 9: Iskalon Stands: Glace

 Glace shadowed Stasia down the Spiral Tunnel. She had insisted, now that the Council had lifted its restriction, on joining the next raid. Had she been merely the monarch and not his sworn charge, Glace would have approved; a Royal presence could help the morale of the Warriors marching ahead of them down the tunnel. But though she had told Casser she would not take part in the fighting, Glace did not trust her to keep her promise in the heat of the battle.

 And after what Stasia had done in Council, her presence might actually be a hindrance. Though only a short time had passed, whispers of her outrageous actions were spreading through Iskalon in exile. Infiltrating the ranks. The men in this raid stepped carefully around the Regent. The whole Kingdom walked as if on ice-shards. Casser had been furious, scolding his niece quietly but thoroughly in the privacy of her little chamber. Larc had voiced her disapproval just as clearly, if somewhat more tactfully. Stasia had not argued, or shouted, or railed against them as Glace had seen her do in the past. Instead, she'd said quietly, “I would not expect you to understand. You were right to insist on the lines of succession, Casser.”

 Her quiet calm worried Glace more than a tantrum. Anger would have been expected, something he was accustomed to seeing in his little mistress. Stasia was changing. Power was changing her. Was it for the better? Glace saw the scene in the council vividly in his mind. All those bodies rising above the chairs. What if she had raised them to the ceiling, and let them drop from there?

 But she hadn't. She wouldn't. She was still Stasia, the lost little Icer wandering about the tunnels. Not a murderer. Not a tyrant. Stasia. She ghosted ahead of him now, a cool presence drifting down the tunnel behind the raiding force. Her hips swayed slightly under her chirsh armor. Her hair shimmered in the dim icelight. Glace cursed her silently for insisting on this raid. He was sure she would join the fighting if she saw an opening.

 Musche shadowed Glace, padding along silently on huge paws behind him. He had recovered from his wounds, and was getting sleek and healthy on flats and other rodents in the Spiral spurs. Glace suspected he had found wild female slink in the spurs as well; he disappeared for longer and longer periods.

 “We are nearing the cavern, Regent. Best that you stay back, and watch from here.” That whispering voice was Serg Kabre, the very young Icer who was leading this mission. Glace could see torchlight in the distance. The scouts had brought word of a cavern full of human prisoners from the war, near the bottom of the Spiral Tunnel. Apparently the Flames were running out of places to keep their prisoners in Chraun. This was a mission not just for weapons or food, but for freedom. If they were successful, what better way for the people to be welcomed than by their own Regent?

 “There is an alcove up here, Majesty,” Glace said, gesturing to the wall nearby. “It is warm, but we can see down the tunnel clearly, and we can hide if Flames come by.”

 Stasia hesitated, and Glace had a sinking sensation in his chest, but then she said, “Yes, of course, Glace. Help me up, I want to conserve my vaerce.” Glace made a step with his hands and she pulled herself up. He savored the gentle pressure of her boots pushing against the palms of his hands. He jumped up beside her, and soon he felt Musche joining them, crowding them together on the ledge. It was warm, but Stasia’s armor remained stiff with ice, and Glace thought she would have enough cold to protect herself if anything went awry.

 Glace had led raids during his training, in which he commanded the warriors without engaging at the front of the fighting, but watching a battle from this far away seemed strangely detached, as if he and the Princess were spectators to some grisly entertainment. The cavern entrance and the Flames guarding it were concealed by the steam sublimating off Kabre and the others' chirsh armor in the heat. Here and there, Glace could see a torch shining through and steel glinting as his warrior's swords flashed. He wanted to be in there, fighting with them, and he could feel the same urge in Stasia. He heard shouting, and screams. It was impossible to know what was happening.

 Then a figure came toward them out of the mist, and Glace saw Kabre silhouetted against torchlight, his armor gone, his flesh glistening blackly in the yellow light. “The battle has turned,” he shouted, not looking at the alcove where Stasia sat next to Glace, trembling with adrenaline. “There are more Flames than we expected. Flee!” A Flame followed him out of the mist, fire shooting from his fingertips.

 Before Glace could stop her, Stasia was on the ground, daggers of ice shooting from her hands. They entered the Flame's chest in a spray of blood, and he fell to the tunnel floor without ever seeing what hit him. Kabre looked up at the Regent before he collapsed beside the dead Flame. His chest ceased heaving, and Glace knew he was past healing. Stasia must have known as well, for she made no movement toward the young Icer.

 “We have to go now,” Glace said. The fog was dissipating, the torchlight growing stronger. This raid had failed. Stasia was gazing down the tunnel past Kabre as if she was considering going toward the light.

 “Take his body, Glace.”

 “Princess?”

 “I am not the fool they think I am. Take his body.  We must leave the rest, but we will at least give Kabre a decent burial.” She turned abruptly and hurried up the tunnel toward Iskalon in Exile.

 Glace did not hesitate any longer. The Flames were approaching. He reached for Kabre. The young Icer was heavier than he expected. Icers were generally lighter than humans, but in death the boy bore down on Glace's shoulders.