Chapter 17

Peter took stock of his injuries. Part of his face and his right hand had been burned where he had held the gun forward and his other hand was now extremely numb from being struck by flying frozen mine shrapnel. He slowly tried to work his cold hand and felt the icy pinpricks of returning sensation. Quickly he felt inside his tunic for his emergency vial of restorative before cursing as he remembered that he had used it on Henri back at the inn.

He carefully made his way over to where the remains of the dragon’s skull still sizzled on the ice. The fire crystal in the Order amulet around his neck reacted as he’d hoped, converting the heat radiating from the still-burning skull into excess free magic. Peter felt his depleted magic reserve slowly increase as the harnessing spell he’d cast on himself earlier that afternoon still functioned. He huddled down over the hot remains trying to get the amulet as close to the heat as possible.

This had the effect of quenching the fire like water being dribbled onto hot coals and the dragon skull remnants rapidly cooled, as the hotter-than-ambient warmth was siphoned away. But Peter now felt much stronger, enough so that he felt he could risk a few new magical spells if needed.

He then moved closer to the cavern to investigate the cryo-dragon’s headless corpse where it now lay still. He noted the many partially-healed wounds from where the Wizard had injured the beast in the earlier battles. Some were quite severe and Peter suspected that if Harkon had not accidentally tripped the hidden trap and flash-frozen himself, the wizard would likely have been able to dispatch the cryo-dragon using only his trident.

The growing late-afternoon cold was making its presence felt and Peter realized that he had to take action, either getting off this mountain or finding shelter. He made his way to the edge of the landing area and tried to scout a safe way down the steep slopes. Even if he had rope and mountaineering equipment, it would have been extremely difficult.

He quickly realized that he would need to be rescued and looked towards the southwest hoping to see the Hale Pass Road. Unfortunately, the location of the dragon’s cavern was too far around the peak and blocked his view of the nearby pass. The western valley below was visible but he’d need some way to signal from such a great distance. Maybe a bonfire?

He looked around but the ice shelf was bare. Even in summer, no large plants or shrubs grew this high above with the tree line almost a thousand feet below. Maybe Peter would find something flammable in the cavern? Had the cryo-dragon collected booty? Maybe clothing or remains from its prey? If he could find enough fuel, he could light a signal fire tonight and hope someone in the valley below saw it.

Could he shelter inside the cavern? Maybe an old dwarven mineshaft or tunnels connected to some lower chambers where he could exit the mountain safely. With daylight fading quickly, there was only one way to find out. Peter left the now-useless firearm near the remains of the wizard and armed himself instead with Harkon’s now-bent trident after first verifying that it was safe from any latent magic protections.

He then carefully scanned the area of the ice shelf near the cavern for any untriggered ice traps and found none. The heat of the fireball apparently triggering all the traps, not just the nearby ones as he’d first assumed. Only then proceeding inside the dragon’s lair, he found it to be far shallower than he’d expected. Just an oval room barely large enough for the dragon to turn around in. The melted and scraped walls looked to have been excavated by the dragon using a combination of its claws and its rock-shattering spittle.

The floor was covered with a large amount of now-frozen blue-black blood which indicated that the dragon had taken succor inside from its earlier injuries. Towards the back of the cavern, Peter found something unexpected, two blue-black pumpkin-sized eggs. Even more intriguing was the broken shell of a third egg lying beside the intact pair.

Peter froze and crouched, looking around carefully and listening for any sign of a missing hatchling. Just as he was about to retrace his steps and flee the cavern, he spotted the hatchling’s remains lying on the floor where the bulk of the dragon’s blood had been spilled. Had the newly hatched creature been trampled by its injured mother? Or, maybe the dragon had killed its offspring due to some discovered flaw. Either way, the death of the hatchling went a long way toward explaining the rage the cryo-dragon had displayed when it emerged from its lair.

When he knelt over the pitiful remains of the creature to inspect it more closely, Peter felt warmer. He backed up a step and the cold sensation returned. Peter squatted down next to the hatchling and considered the matter. Back at the Vent, he’d observed that the samandall used the fire-crystals inside their bodies to survive the extreme heat of the magma environment. They did this by utilizing the crystal’s cooling effect on anything warm in their vicinity as they converted heat to magic.

These cryo-dragons must use frost crystals to survive the extreme cold environment in which they lived in a similar manner. The ice crystals must somehow work in reverse. And, as a result, things around the frost crystals grew warmer as the crystal somehow absorbed their cold. Peter knew enough science to understand that there was no such thing as cold, only a lack of heat. This meant the frost crystals had to use a different principle than the fire crystals.

Maybe the frost crystals repelled heat away thus keeping the core crystal cold? But if that was true, and if there was no conversion mechanism using the heat, where did the magic come from to drive the process? Peter carefully touched the body of the hatchling and found it warm to the touch. He then removed his small knife and began butchering into the pulped carcass, probing around its upper chest area looking for any small crystals.

He found one marble-sized gem near the creature’s heart and as he predicted, his knife became much warmer when he cut the gem-like object loose from its cartilage cage. He found the other tiny frost crystal shattered into shards too small to be useful. Peter noted that the damaged fragments didn’t heat his knife like the intact crystal, so the effect was lost if the crystals were damaged.

Peter withdrew one of the small leather pouches he kept just in case he ran across rare reagents and tucked the marble-sized frost crystal inside. He carefully felt the leather and found it warm to the touch, then placed it into his pocket where it would suit as a hand warmer against the cold.

Peter then returned to the two intact eggs and spent a few minutes observing them to make sure that they were not about to hatch or were still alive. Like the dead hatchling’s body, the eggs were warm to the touch. They were also faintly vibrating which indicated that whatever was inside was still alive or that magic was involved. With the warmth they gave off, he realized that if he wasn’t able to escape the mountain tonight, he would at least be able to survive the cold by huddling between the eggs. That was if he was brave enough to sleep touching two young dragons.

Other than the eggs and the dead hatching, the cavern was empty. No flammables for a fire or any shafts or caves leading deeper. With the light rapidly fading, Peter returned outside to the ice shelf. First, he inspected the cryo-dragon’s corpse in more detail and found it also radiating heat. The two much larger frost crystals inside must be pushing all the dragon’s latent heat away from themselves and into the outer extremities of the corpse.

He considered attempting to butcher the large corpse as the Mohennial had requested but realized that his small knife was simply not up to the task. Peter then went to inspect the area where the wizard had died. Strewn about the fractured ice were the remains of his clothing and gear. Peter found a portion of the wizard’s trousers which contained a mostly-intact pocket. Inside were the remains of a half dozen shattered potion vials.

Peter also found a combat knife in a cracked sheath. Surprisingly, the knife had not shattered from the extreme cold of the trap. He placed his hand over it and sensed that the weapon had been protected by enhancement spells. He also discovered a leather pouch lying by the clothing remnants. Opening the leather drawstrings revealed a small black polished stone. He felt a glimmer of hope rising as he realized that the stone was a rare talking stone.

He carefully extracted the cold object and touched it to his forehead. Images of strangers appeared in his mind, flickering from one to another. He recognized the last and strongest image as that of the Mohennial. He focused on her image and concentrated until the vision grew even more distinct in his mind.

“Mohennial Sala!” Peter spoke out loud as he poured magic into the stone. “Mistress Sala, can you hear me?” he said again a few seconds later after he felt a connection form.
—Wizard Harkon?— he heard in his mind. It sounded the same as he remembered Sala’s voice.

“This is Lord Bentencourt, Mohennial,” he sent back. “Wizard Harkon was just killed by the cryo-dragon.”

He felt his reserves dropping quickly from the effort to sustain the mental link.

—The dragon? —

“Dead, I’m—”

—Good!— The Mohennial interrupted, overpowering his sending.

. —Deliver the frost crystals as instructed.—

“I can’t!” he sent trying to imbue his mental speech with the futility of the situation. “I’m trapped!”

Peter felt Sala’s mental ‘sigh’ that accompanied the next mental impression.

—explain ... No, where are you? —

Peter relaxed and described his location. The Mohennial would be sending help.

An hour later, Peter stepped into a small portal and was whisked from the mountain shelf and deposited on the front steps of the Stony Brook. He looked behind him but the magical doorway had already closed. He was amazed that passing through the Mohennial’s temporary portal had not required a bit of his critically low life force. The ease of the transport confirmed that Sala had magical and life force reserves like an ocean as compared to his pond.

He stood there for a moment just breathing in the warm, thicker evening air. He’d survived! He stepped away from the inn enough so that he could see the distant peak where he’d just departed from. The small peak north of the Tooth shone in the moonlight. The lair was on the northern face of the peak so he could not directly see the illuminated ice shelf where the Mohennial’s two tamed trolls still worked at butchering the large corpse.

He was still amazed at the method of their arrival. Ten minutes after he had sent Sala the location of the ice shelf using the mental talking stone, a large portal had winked into existence. First to exit the portal had been the Mohennial’s two hulking boar troll bodyguards. Each wore heavy chain armor and wielded a large spiked war club.

Peter had felt the magical spillage from the heavy shielding spells which had been cast on each troll’s armor. He suspected that the pair could have easily stood up to the cryo-dragon if it were still alive. After ensuring that the dragon was indeed dead and the area safe, The Mohennial herself had followed, striding through the portal like a queen entering her royal palace.

The deceptively young-looking woman was wearing what looked like an armored snowsuit, complete with fur-covered boots. She was also carrying a simple spear that absolutely reeked of potent magic. Peter thought he detected a tiny bit of his own magic being drawn towards the spear. After taking in her surroundings and deploying a small swarm of hovering fae-lights, she’d marched to where Peter stood waiting and demanded that he give a full accounting of what had occurred.

Sala mostly accepted his story asking few questions as he explained the earlier events. She did react with surprise when Peter led her into the cavern to show her the two still-living eggs. He’d next shown her the trampled hatchling, including the pulverized remains of the frost crystal, letting her draw her own conclusions. He was about to explain that he had salvaged one of the small frost crystals intact but the Mohennial seemed to brush the matter of the dead hatchling aside.

Instead, she released more fae-lights which illuminated the dark icy lair in crystal detail. Sala then returned to where the eggs lay and cast a long, complex spell, opening a new portal directly from the cavern to somewhere else. She then instructed Peter to wait while she carried each heavy egg through the portal herself, finishing in less than a minute. Her only comment had been that she understood that he would not mention the existence of the intact eggs again, ever.

Finally, they returned outside to where the trolls had readied the cryo-dragon’s corpse for butchering. Mohennial Sala made him drink one of her healing potions before opening another portal to the inn and sending him on through. It was clear that Sala had wanted him out of the way quickly before she began cutting into the cryo-dragon. Peter had been curious about seeing the full-sized frost crystals but was too tired and intimidated to ask to be permitted to remain.

Welcoming light spilled out from the inn’s front windows. Peter heard the sound of laughter and tavern singing but it sounded like the bawdy tune was being sung by the crowd and not by Bemi. He entered the inn to find Torl manning the bar. Taylor was acting as a barmaid and was delivering a tray of ale to a table of dwarves. Neither Bemi nor Henri was present. Taylor spotted him at the entry and smiled, looking relieved before continuing to flirt with the dwarves.

He made his way over to the bar. “Taking up a new profession, coachman?”

“Welcome back, milord!” Torl said. “You look to have suffered a bit of trouble.”

“It’s been fun,” he replied, pointing to one of the bottles on the back shelf. “Hand me the Ryzeelund Red and a glass.”

Torl did so and Peter poured himself a full glass of the fortified wine.

“How’s Henri?” Peter asked after taking a large swallow.

“Still unconscious, last I heard,” he replied. “Bemi is with her back in their quarters.”

“Lord Peter!” Taylor said, returning from her ale run and giving him a careful hug. “You’re back!”

“Yeah, it was a close thing,” Peter explained. “But the problems with both the dragon and the wizard are solved at least.”

Taylor and Torl looked curious and clearly wanted to hear the full story but he held up his hand forestalling their questions.

“Later. I hurt and I am exhausted,” he explained, “and I need to go help Henri. I assume you two know what to do here?”

“Aye, milord,” Torl replied. “Henri’s cook is cleaning up in the kitchen and will be out shortly to help shut down the common room for the evening.”

Peter finished his glass and nodded before heading back to Henri’s private quarters. The door was locked so he used his master key, noting while he did that it was lucky that his keys had not fallen out of the large burn hole that was now exposing much of that pocket.

“Who is it?” he heard Bemi calling from Henri’s bedroom.

“Lord Pete,” he replied.

Moments later he was engulfed by the blond teen.

“Ouch! Mind the burns!”

“Oh! I’m sorry Lord Pete!” she cried.

Peter saw that the girl had tears streaming down her face and felt a sudden worry.

“Your mother?”

“Still the same,” Bemi explained. “But I was worried about you also after the wizard took you away.”

“Well, I am here now,” Peter said, “and we don’t have to worry about the dragon or the wizard anymore.”

Peter stepped by the puzzled and relieved girl and made his way to Henri’s bedroom. Bemi’s mother was lying on the bed on her back in the traditional mummy pose. He stepped close and put his palm over her forehead and heart for a moment, sensing her life energies. They were very, very low. Henri would maybe recover, but would likely remain in this coma state for months before she did. All the while, she would need feeding and extensive care.

“Can you help her?” Bemi asked, coming up beside him quietly.

“Yes,” he replied. He then took her hand in his and guided her in assessing her mother’s condition as he’d just done. She eventually was able to sense the woman’s life levels, after alternating between Henri’s and his own, much higher levels.