Medoc listened to the silver-haired Icer ranting below, then sighed and gave the order. “I had a feeling the King's 'message' would only stir the pot,” Renault confided after he had passed the command down.
“Just make sure they know not to kill the princess—or should I say Queen, now,” Medoc said, shifting in his cramped position. He sat in a tiny alcove of stone adjacent to the burial shaft. In spite of the flaming Fireblood on his armor, the air was cold. He could not get used to feeling the ice through the stone, so close. He could see the immense shaft of burial ice rising above the cavern through the drop hole. T'Jas would not penetrate the purple, glowing ice, but it had parted with surprising ease for the Fireblood-coated torches. It had taken mere seconds to open the holes for the heads to roll through. Another hole in the rock, much smaller, revealed the cavern so that he could watch and direct the battle below. He preferred to lead troops, but under these circumstances, the first few waves would probably perish. So much for ending things without more bloodshed. Dynat’s plan was ridiculous. Had it been up to Medoc, he would have sent emissaries with terms for surrender, not the heads of their Royalty.
Renault was speaking. “You should say Semija; I'm sure that's what his Majesty intends. Why he cares so much, I can't imagine. Do you think he’s—you know?”
“I'm sure I don't,” Medoc replied curtly. “If you've nothing more to do than gossip about your King like a damn woman, I can find another officer who'd like your spot.”
Renault grunted, but took the rebuff in stride. Medoc felt a twinge of fear. Dynat was losing respect. If Medoc continued to support him wholeheartedly, would he be overthrown along with the King? The men said they would follow him, but if he refused to lead, they might look to another. Renault would be the next in line. Unsettled, Medoc turned his attention back to the battle.
He could not see much; the cavern was filling with smoke and steam as his Warriors went to work. The air in the tunnels became chokingly close, and Medoc drew T'Jas from his fire and created a shield around his mouth and nose. “Come on, iceworms,” he muttered. He wanted this battle ended, as swiftly as possible. He needed the Icers taken alive for his plan to work.
Presently a young Scout came up the tunnel, his lava running in patterns that looked like veins. He bowed low and awkward in the tight, steep tunnel before Medoc. “Scout Gerad reporting, General.”
Medoc nodded shortly for him to get on with it.
“We killed several, and took prisoners in the large chamber below. But the bulk of the frozen ones have retreated into their smaller tunnels, and sealed off the entrances so that we cannot see where the tunnels start. We have Flames tunneling, but those who can dig through rock are weary, General.”
“The Princess?”
“Seems to have escaped, Sir. According to the first Flames in, her Semija guard rolled her out of the attack, and the other Icers formed a thick shield of ice while she tunneled away into the rock. We broke the shield, but she was gone by then.”
Medoc swore. A damn simple operation, and they had botched it. Dynat would be furious. But then, this whole plan was Dynat's. Why by the Lava Lake had he wanted to send in the Princesses’ heads? Was he setting Medoc up for failure? The King had been very clear that Medoc’s future as General rested on his ability to deliver this Dreamer Princess. Well, he was done with Dynat’s plan. He would get her, but he would do it through tact, not force. “Is the chamber secure?”
“Yes, General. All Iskaloners remaining below are dead or under guard. Shall we begin to send them up—”
“No. I'll come down.” A chance to stretch his legs would be good. Medoc uncurled himself and followed Gerad's shoulders down the nearly vertical tunnel. After a moment of scrambling through rock and ice, hoping his fire would keep him warm enough to preserve his lava, Medoc popped out of the ceiling, and hovered against it, looking down at the cavern below.
There were more bodies charred and scattered across the whole floor of the place than there were frightened, huddled prisoners against the far wall. The tiara-clad heads lay scattered among bodies of Icers and Flames, presumably where they had first dropped. Medoc headed straight for the prisoners, drifting through the air. He regretted the use of his fire; the cavern was chilly, even with all the torches and Fireblood flaming away.
A mix of Icers and their untrained Semija stood before the wall, while others were led away in groups by Medoc’s officers. A quick estimation of their numbers told him he’d taken only about a hundred prisoners—just a hundred out of the thousands of Icers living in exile. They looked terrified, and for a moment Medoc tried to imagine himself in their position, trapped, hopeless, sure that death or worse awaited. It was a good battle strategy, putting yourself in the enemy's mind, but it left a bad taste in his mouth now. He scanned their faces, looking for the face of a leader, an Officer who would be frightened enough to cow but stood high enough that his negotiation would carry weight with the Princess-now-Queen.
His eyes passed over one prisoner and jerked back to rest on her. She was tall for an Icer and dark skinned, another rarity. Medoc’s heart skipped a beat when he met her eyes, narrow and defiant under dark lashes. She had a regal bearing, was a leader of some sort—if he had not known better Medoc might have mistaken her for the Princess—but she was not likely to be cowed. If she had not been an Icer, he thought absently, if her bones had been a little thicker and her frame a little taller, she might have been beautiful.
“Stand forward, Ice fairy.” Medoc beckoned to her. She hesitated, but then her will seemed to crumple, and she lurched forward, less gracefully than he imagined she would move, as if her feet were blocks of stone. “Where is your Queen?”
The spark came back to her eyes. “I would not tell you if I knew, son of a molebear and a bottom-raker!”
Medoc considered her without really seeing her. He needed the Dreamer. His livelihood, perhaps his very life, depended on it. He also needed to clean the Icer’s lake. For that, he needed as many Icers as he could find. He could chase them through the tunnels until Chraun dried up completely, but he might still never find the Dreamer, and he might kill all the Icers in the process. Meanwhile, Chraun’s water would remain contaminated.
His own Officers and Flames filled the cavern, looking for the escape tunnels, separating out the bodies of the dead, and moving prisoners down toward the Spiral and Chraun. It was too crowded to have a conversation without starting tongues wagging. He reached out and grabbed the Icer's wrist, pulling her after him. “I'm going to question this one myself,” he said roughly to the closest Officer. “She's almost pretty enough for a Flame!”
That would start some bad rumors in itself, but nothing like treason. The Icer looked terrified, and she winced at the pain his hot fingers caused her wrist, but she did not scream or cry or struggle. Medoc thought his own daughters would not have been so brave. He took her to a distant wall that had been well cleared of bodies, out of earshot. He pressed her against the wall, standing close over her, intimidating her, smothering her with his heat. He could almost feel the eyes of his Officers boring into his back.
“We can destroy your people completely,” he said softly. She stared up at him with dark, hating eyes, reflecting the purple light of the ceiling above. “We can hunt you down and kill every last one of you, man, woman, child, Icer.”
“Better dead than slaves.” She spat. Medoc felt the spray of moisture. He lifted a hand to cuff her, but let it drop unused. He had not brought her here to beat her senseless.
“It doesn't have to end this way. I want you to go to your Dreamer Queen, ice fairy. Deliver her a message. If she and the Icers surrender, I will stop pursuing your people. The Icers will be free to return to the lake.”
She laughed without mirth, and anger surged in Medoc’s blood again. “You lie, flaming fish slime. Why would you stop after you have her? Who would stop you? At least with the Queen, we have a chance.”
“I hope, for the sake of your people, that your Queen has more sense than you. I have honor, and I keep my word. If they surrender before my Flames break through your tunnels, we will end this war. All Icers will be returned to the lake.”
“And the humans?” He could see her battling against hope. “We are not like you, to treat them as less than cababar. I will not buy my own safety at the expense of my friends’ lives.”
“That is for your Queen to worry about. I can make no promises about the Semija. Will you deliver the message?”
She stared past him, and he realized that she was gazing at the bodies littering the floor. Most of his Flame losses had been cleaned up, but there were still piles and piles of scorched Icers and their Semija. Beyond them, thirty or forty prisoners remained.
Medoc felt an odd sensation on his chest and looked down to find her pounding her fists against his flaming armor. The fire must have hurt her, and her hands were red and blistered, but she kept pounding. It was like a little flat attacking a slink; he saw how helpless and angry and desperate she was, and instead of pushing her away he let her struggle for a few moments. Her face was scrunched up with hatred, and her thick hair shimmied like a snake. At last she stopped and slumped against the wall, tears leaking out of her eyes.
“Will you deliver my message? I swear on the Fire Spirit—I will even swear it on your Ancestors, if you like—that I will keep my word.”
She gazed past him again, and he turned to follow her eyes, which rested this time on the remaining prisoners. When she looked back, her tears were salty streaks on her cheeks and her face was more calm.
“I will carry your message if you free every prisoner you’ve taken today. I will not leave them behind.”
“Out of the question, Icer. You are in no position to bargain.”
“You are the one who needs something from me. If you didn't, you would have killed me. You need my help, and so I can make demands.”
Medoc almost smiled. He smoothed his mustache instead. He had never actually spoken to an Icer; his contact before had been limited to killing them outright or listening to an Officer’s report from an interrogation. They were more clever than he would have expected. She was almost correct.
“I can kill you where you stand, and get another of those to deliver my message.” He gestured behind him at the prisoners. “I can also kill one prisoner every hour that your Queen does not come to this cavern. Their deaths will be on your shoulders, Ice Fairy.”
She shook her head. “No. They will be on your shoulders, Flame. May the ghosts of the unburied follow you to the end of your days.”
In spite of himself, Medoc shivered. He did not believe in ghosts, or Ancestors, or any of their ice dogma, but for some reason, her curse made him nervous. He thought of the bodies flowing down the Solph River, thought of Icer ghosts parading through the tunnels of Chraun. He glanced around the cavern again. His men were still watching him. He almost thought he could see the ghosts of the dead Icers, walking amongst the bodies.
“You could get another,” she continued. “But none know the Queen as closely as I, and none can gain her ear as swiftly. If it is truly results you wish to see, and not more bloodshed, you will send all your prisoners with me now. She will pay your message greater heed if I say, 'here are the prisoners this Flame freed in the name of his honor,' than if I say, 'he is slaughtering our people even as we speak.'”
Medoc considered her. How many Icers would it take to clean the lake and the tunnels above Chraun? Most of the prisoners were humans; he had only thirty Icers at most. Surely he'd need more than twice that number. The more he thought about it, the more sense her words made. “What is your name, Icer?”
She bit her bottom lip before answering. Medoc noticed that it was plump; at least some part of her bore enough flesh. “Larc.”
“Larc, you and the Icers and Semija are hereby granted safe passage to deliver a message to your Queen. You have the word of General Medoc that you will not be followed, and you will not be harmed while you deliver your message. I will give her ten hours to respond.”
She sagged against the wall, and for a moment Medoc wondered if he had said something wrong, but then he realized it was relief. “I will deliver your message, Flame Medoc, and I will advise my Queen accordingly. You are not the only one who wishes to avoid further bloodshed.”
Medoc nodded curtly and turned away, shouting orders to Renault. His men's eyes were full of questions, but none were voiced as the prisoners were brought back up from the Spiral and allowed to tunnel away from the burial chamber, led by Larc.
“What now, General?” Renault asked when the rock sealed over, hiding the back of the last Icer from sight. Medoc shivered again, and let his fire flare up over his armor. He pulled a stone bench to the center of the room and sat.
“Now, Luten, we wait.”