Dream of a Vast Blue Cavern

Chapter 3: Sealed for Siege: Glace

Glace knew the answer, though he did not like to admit it. The Flames had a new weapon, and it changed the ability of Icers and Warriors alike to stand their ground in battle. Fireblood, the Flames called it. Glint had spoken to wounded Warriors who reported a thick black liquid, that burned and stayed burning on everything it touched, even water, even ice. Like molebear fat, but stronger, and explosive. Scribes had returned to the Palace on the third day, searching the Royal Library for any gold plates recording this Fireblood, any knowledge or advice on how to counter it. Glace could have told them there was nothing. He had read every plate in the library twice over. He was sure he would remember mention of such a powerful weapon.

As the incoming Warriors mingled with the fresh army, bringing carts of wounded and corpses up the street, Glace saw a few Icer Warriors by the entrances of the tunnels. They were sealing them, covering them completely. “Ancestors,” he whispered. It made sense, though he could scarcely believe it. Iskalon was being sealed in solid rock. Would even that stop the Flames, with their Fireblood?

Footsteps announced a presence in the hall outside, and Glace turned away from the window. He knew it was Serg Glint before he saw him, but even so he had his hands on his weapons and his body between Stasia and the door before his second in command appeared in its frame. Glint saluted with a thick fist to his heart. His voice was hoarse and he did not look Glace in the eyes as he usually did. “Message for all staff, Captain. Our army was overrun in the tunnels and ordered to retreat. General Zental is—He’s dead, Captain.” The last came out in barely a whisper.

Glace kept his face straight. The General, dead in the tunnels. He could not quite feel the sadness of the news through his shock. The General dead. The army in retreat, leaderless. No, someone would have taken command, out in the tunnels. The retreat had been orderly. A Colonel or a Luten. Glace forced himself to focus. “What more?”

“They sealed the tunnels as they retreated, Captain. All the way from the battles. But some think the Flames can melt them just as fast.” He left unsaid what they were both thinking: with Fireblood, the Flames probably could melt the barricades away.

“Or explode them,” Glace considered out loud. “Flames like to fight with explosions and impacts. They are just as likely to hammer our walls until they collapse.” Zental, dead. It meant Casser, the highest-ranking Brigad, was in charge of the army, until someone not of Royalty could be promoted. 

“When I checked in at the Council Hall, his Majesty gave me a message for you. He says if the Palace looks to fall, we must get Stasia to the lake.”

The Palace—fall? It seemed unthinkable. “Acknowledged. Dismissed, Glint. Let me know if anything else changes.”

Glace watched the carts roll the wounded up the city streets. The air grew stale. The normal flow through the tunnels was blocked, and there would only be a little circulation coming from the burial chambers.

A high, grinding noise echoed through the vast lake cavern, followed by a tremor that shook the very walls of the Palace. Stasia woke and sat up, immediately alert. “What is it, Glace? What is going on?”

He told her, gently as he could, of Zental’s death and the retreat. Her eyes went dark with sadness, but then sparked in anger. “And here I lay, helpless and useless. Sleeping my way through the war. And not a single relevant Dream to show for it.”

 “Still the burial chamber?”

 “Every time. I have Dreamed of nothing else in the past six days. I don’t understand it, Glace. My Dreams have always been cryptic, but this . . . If I could only go there. There must be something we missed before.”

 The Palace shook again, and Stasia joined Glace at the window. “Ancestors!” she exclaimed.

 Iskalon was dark, the lights of the Palace dimmed, and a low fog hung over the shore of the lake, shrouding the warriors who had stood there when last Glace looked. The bridges were all under water again, and not a light shone in a single house. Every street held a platoon or a squad.

 Stasia looked scared, but she said, “Glace, I know you are going to say that Father told us to stay here, but I don’t think we should stay in the Palace. If this shaking continues . . .”

 “The Palace will hold,” Glace assured her. The ice foundations were deep in the rock of the ceiling, and it would hold, at least until the Flames actually entered the city. “I want to be down there too, Princess.”

 She crowded closer, her hip brushing against his arm, and said, “Please, Glace. I don’t want our last hours to be as master and servant. No one will reprimand you here. Please, just be Glace to me right now?”

 He stared silently down at the darkened city and felt for her hand, slipped it into his. “Your wish is my command, Stasia.”

 It was a thing he had said to her jokingly, when they were young, and her sad smile told him she remembered it too. As they stood silently holding hands, watching the city prepare for a breach, Glace thought furiously.

 His duty was to obey. If the Palace looks to fall . . . if the city was breached and burned, the flames would lick higher and higher and the Palace itself could melt. The Chraunian army would have projectiles, and their projectiles would be burning with Fireblood. If they attacked the Palace with those, the Palace would fall. It seemed inevitable. If the city fell, then the Palace would fall.

 His duty was to protect. Once the walls were breached, anything could happen. He could not wait until the Palace looked to fall. If he acted at just the right moment, he might be able to save her.

 “Stasia,” he said softly.

 “Yes, Glace?”

 “Go and put on your best armor. Fill it with ice, and arm yourself with whatever weapons you can make from the ice in your bed.”

 He had not spoken to her like that, imperatively, since they were children, and he was surprised when she acted without questioning him. He watched the window and listened to the rustle of her websilk dress sliding to the floor, tried not to imagine what her body looked like in the dim light, standing nude beside her bed. It was a relief when she returned to his side, fully covered in thick chirsh ice armor. Ice crystals sparkled in the fibers like frost on a slink’s pelt. She wore her hair down, but her small mother-of-pearl tiara adorned her forehead. Ice daggers hung around her waist like a skirt, and more ice weapons bulged in her pockets. “What do you have in mind, Glace?”

 “I’ll tell you when it’s time, Stasia,” he said. “Be ready to float us straight down to the city, at my word.”

 Curiosity burned in her eyes, but she did not ask any more questions. He did not want to frighten her, so he did not reveal his thoughts. When Glint came again to report, Glace quietly told him to get the rest of her guard out of the Palace. “She cannot float you all down, so best if you are on the ground. Look for us to come down from her window. If the Palace falls, everyone in it will be crushed. Do a sweep before you leave and make sure no one remains in the Palace.”

 After Glint left, Glace took Stasia’s hand in his again, and together they waited for the final shuddering tremor that would breach Iskalon’s walls.