The Arkanist

The Hidden Fortress

         When he saw her face, she stopped, and sighed. “I just…”

         “You drugged me!” Aera said with a look of distaste. “That’s why I was out for so long, wasn’t it.”

         “Let us not use the word drug now, Aeron,” said Ollor. “You’re taking measures to the extremes they ought not venture to.”

         “I’ll take them where I want to venture,” mocked Aera. “What did you do to me?”

         “You are not going to enjoy hearing the answer,” said Ollor.

         Aera knew exactly what it was after that. “Damn your bloody magic!” shouted Aera. She did not know where this side of her had come from. A while ago she was marveling over how she fancied Ollor, know she wanted to curse his very soul. Maybe it was the magic? She didn’t have the time to figure out, for she felt her vision go dark, and her mind condense until she was trapped. Trapped in the terrible darkness that consumed all.

         She woke with the moon soaked in blood and shaded by cloud. Its crimson glow sifted through the levels of misty black like water and trickled down onto the earth below. The ash fell with it, heavy, obscuring, dancing with the grating winds that assailed the edge of the mountains. For a moment when she woke, all was still and quiet, until of course the wind screamed a terrible scream and the silence was ripped raggedly. Her eyes watered as she narrowed them.

         Ollor it seemed had carried her, for they had traveled a great distance while she slept. The ranger walked ahead of her staggering figure. “I’ll admit the magic does have repercussions to those who are not used to it. It was my fault for overseeing that.”

         Aera bound after him. “So you did drug me.” Her voice was drowned by the winds.

         “There were no drugs involved,” said Ollor, calm. “As I have told you before, I am no apothecary. I simply used a simple magic is all.” Aera glowered at him. “And you should do well to thank me for it. That magic just about kept you alive.”

         “What do you mean?” asked Aera, still mad.

         “Listen, Aeron,” said Ollor, slowing. “That spell I placed over you, id not only put you to sleep, but at the same time, it kept you warm. The equivalent to being in the desert, I might add. Without it, you would have frozen to death, like you are practically doing now.”

         Aera looked herself over. He was right, her cloak was frosted in a white film, and her face was cold as ice and numb. Everything felt numb. “What about you?” Her voice was pained. “If you were heating me…what about your own body?”

         “The lamps,” said Ollor. “The torches, the candles. I drew from their heat and placed it into mine own body. True, the ride was a fair bit darker, but it was necessary.”

         “And the driver?” asked Aera. “How’d he keep warm?”

         “He didn’t,” said Ollor, sighing. “He died about three days in, eaten by the frost, his skin black and his lips blue as ice. Converted as much warmth he had in his cool body, but if truth be told, he was cold to the core.”

         “And you drove the rest of the way here,” said Aera.

         The ranger nodded. “But our trek is not over yet, you must know.” He pointed down the steady rock chine to the base of the mountains where a thin sliver cut through the rock like a lighting bolt. “Until we reach that pass, we still have to brave this bloody winter.” He started off, trudging through the high grey sea of ash and snow. “And its not going anywhere soon.”