T Lain - Plague of Ice

“It could have been an echo,” said Sonja.

“I don’t think so. It didn’t sound like it came from where we are.”

“I think I heard it too,” Lidda agreed. “It sounded like… breathing.”

A new sound echoed out from the silence, the distinct flapping of tiny wings.

“It’s one of the mephits,” said Regdar. “Be ready.”

They stood with their backs against the cylinder on the opposite side from the door, looking in the direction of the noise. Lidda raised her crossbow and loosed a bolt that sailed into the dim distance, making a tiny, clinking noise as it struck the far wall. That was followed by the distinctive clinking of a chain and the raking of claws against ice.

Staring into the darkness so intently produced phantom dots of light before Regdar’s eyes. He blinked heavily and darted his eyes from side to side. A new pair of eyes flickered in the white torch light, and he was certain they weren’t part of one of the ancient murals. Breath came heavily, snorts from a massive nose clouding the air with tiny ice particles. A faint growl rolled in the back of the thing’s throat as it strode into the light. It was a great cat, unlike anything that patrolled the world’s savannahs. Like the giant scorpion, this was a creature of the Plane of Ice. It resembled a lion in form but not composition. Instead of the familiar, tawny yellow, its fur was shades of white, with a thick mane of shimmering, icy blue. A thick, iron collar encircled its neck, and a length of chain trailed alongside it, clinking as the lion dragged it across the frosted floor. Wiry and powerful, the snow lion drove its claws into the icy floor and reared back, ready to pounce. It let out a mighty roar that blasted throughout the cavernous mall, echoing off the walls and ringing until it was all the warrior could do to not clap his hands over his ears.

Hennet had seen enough. He loosed a magic missile toward the lion. The green spell-bolt struck the creature head-on but did little to slow its drive forward. The adventurers scattered away from the cylinder, not wanting to be pinned against a wall by this mad animal. Only Regdar ran forward to engage the beast, trusting his armor to protect him. He hoped to draw the lion away from the others so they could strike it quickly and safely.

The snow lion leaped on Regdar, knocking the fighter back onto the ground. His helmeted head struck the black floor hard. The lion’s chain flailed dangerously, slapping the ground next to Regdar’s head and cracking the icy coating where it struck. Regdar skidded backward on the slick floor with the lion digging its claws into his breastplate. Its massive weight kept him pressed against the floor while it reared its maned head and roared into the gloom.

Lidda loosed another crossbow bolt that struck the lion in its neck as it was roaring. The shaft sank deep into the frigid flesh. It whipped its head around, spotted Lidda, and uttered a growl that resonated through Regdar’s bones. In a flash it abandoned the pinned fighter and pounced after Lidda. She turned to run, but she’d gone only a few steps before slipping on a slick patch of floor and tumbling forward onto her belly.

As the creature raced after Lidda, Sonja dashed back from her sheltered position behind the cylinder and leaped onto the lion’s back. It roared in protest and snapped its head back hoping to buck her off, but the druid clung tightly to the glassy skin stretched tight over icy bones. She attempted to magically calm it, but her spell had no effect. This snow lion was too alien a being to be affected by the same magic that would affect an earthly animal. Sonja released one of her hands to pull her cudgel from her waist, hoping her grip on the lion with her other hand would be sufficient. The lion sensed the opportunity and began leaping and bucking like a mad horse. Sonja was hurled through the air to land on a decrepit table alongside one of the cylinders. The table shattered under her impact, and the lion raced to where she fell, ready to deliver a death blow.

From the shadows, Hennet hurled his short spear. It arced through the air and plunged deep into the lion’s side. The enraged beast snapped its jaws at the shaft in a furious effort to dislodge it, but it was too far back along its wiry form. Sonja cracked her cudgel against the lion’s face, and the beast drooled some, blue otherworldly equivalent of blood as it turned to face her. She struck again, this time knocking its skull against the nearby cylinder and breaking teeth of solid ice from its mouth. The lion’s legs buckled. As it collapsed, Hennet buried the point of his short spear into its frozen brain. With a final twitch the lion expired.

Regdar pulled himself up and walked over to join the others. “If that’s the worst of it,” he said, “then we should be in the clear.”

“That’s not the worst,” Sonja said. “I suspect they still have Glaze in reserve. That would explain why the dragon didn’t kill us when it had the chance—the mephits needed us.”

“But Glaze nearly killed Hennet, and it chased me down when I ran for the tower, while you were unconscious,” protested Regdar. “Then again, I didn’t understand why I made it. I thought Glaze would overtake me for sure. Could it really have been staged?”

“I don’t see why not,” Sonja said. “White dragons are trainable.”

“My store of spells is nearly exhausted,” Hennet admitted. “Between Glaze, the mephits, and our tangles with the verbeeg and this lion thing, I don’t know how much magic I can contribute now.”

“We heard a mephit before,” Lidda reminded them. “It must have unleashed the lion. Where did it go?”

“Through there.” Sonja pointed almost exactly above them, to the trapdoor through which Hennet had fallen hours earlier. It was small, but any of them could fit through it.

“Interesting,” said Regdar. “They won’t expect us to come through there. We could probably pile up enough of this old junk to reach the trapdoor and attack them that way. At least we could get a look at what we’re up against.”

“Good thought,” said Sonja.

Everyone set about collecting the debris for this purpose, scavenging for the more solid desks, tables, and chairs that littered the great hall. Recalling the huge pile of broken wood the mephits froze against the door to the tower they claimed was Glaze’s lair, they attempted to prize some of it off but found it solidly resisted their best efforts. Ultimately, they managed to gather a fairly sturdy platform that could support even Regdar’s weight. As the tallest of the group, Regdar volunteered to look through the trapdoor. Mounting the platform, he slowly eased the trapdoor open, avoiding the accumulation of snow that fluttered down.

He cautiously craned his neck through the trapdoor and saw the familiar towers of ice, now casting longer shadows as sunset approached. Something felt different about the area above ground, and he couldn’t quite identify what it was. Regdar turned in a complete circle and studied the stark, empty city. Neither mephits nor Glaze were in evidence. With an idea in mind, he took a quick look straight up to be sure.

Regdar hopped off the platform and pulled the artifact from his pocket, being careful to hold it only by the chain.

“No one’s up there,” he announced. “More importantly, I know what happened. I know why the crystal turned white.”

Lidda was the first to ask why.

“Before we came down here, the winds were blowing away from the rift, right?” The others nodded furiously.

“Well, now they’re blowing inward,” Regdar explained. “The wind is blowing madly toward a point in the center of the city, where the rift is.”

“Toward it,” Hennet repeated. Could it be that his impulsive act had actually saved them, reversing the pendant’s effects? “Does that mean that the elemental ice is withdrawing?”