36

The wind blew in tense, icy blasts, growing more powerful as they climbed. Purple-dark clouds streamed past, taking wind-sprite shapes to leer at Val and Kalisandra. Those drifts and tatters of mist which did not pass above or below them became part of the staircase; growing temporarily harder than cloud, but weirdly less solid than stone. Briefly made use of, soon it moved on, shoved by an angry wind. The earthen part of the stairway had ended some fifty feet lower. Here, all was clouds, mist and strong, ancient magic. So much for setting.

Sandy became aware of the goddess before Valerian did, though he was the target of most of her mischief. Sudden wild gales and slyly-placed ice threatened to send him plunging over the side. Intense temperature drops and streaking frost battled his shielding and warmth spells. Mocking laughter echoed and bounced.

"My Lady," called Sandy, diverting a sudden blizzard of icicles. "What is thy will? Speak, friend of the helpless and hunted. Two frozen corpses will gain you no fame… can offer no worship!"

A whirlwind of glittering snow appeared on the titan's stairway in front of them, briefly turned into a young, lovely, icy-pale girl and then vanished, again.

…but at least the wind dropped.

Kalisandra offered graceful obeisance, dragging Valerian, too, to one knee.

"Speak, My Lady," she called out. "Thy handmaid listens."

Another crystalline whirlwind formed, spinning at a weird right angle to all of that streaming dark cloud. The staircase might have been barren desert; hot and dry as the surface of Char. Frost Maiden did as she pleased and went where she liked, utterly free of constraint, unbound by physical laws.

Came nearer, this time. Manifesting on the same colossal step as Sandy and Val, she pirouted to a halt with both arms upraised; bow in one hand, sling in the other, a suggestion of ice-bolt arrows filling the air all around her.

Younger than Firelord, taking no other shape than her own, the goddess had dark, unbound hair, moon-pale eyes and translucent, back-curving horns. Her expression was mocking, spiteful and sly. She was dressed as a huntress in clothing that shifted along with her background of roiling vapor and hissing sleet.

"You, too, will desert me for… this," she accused.

Her voice pattered and gusted like wind-driven hail on a window pane. Sometimes it rang out like sea ice, booming and cracking with each surging wave. The air around her wasn't just cold, but void. The bleak, utter absence of warmth.

Kalisandra struggled to placate her goddess, saying,

"My Lady… there is an ancient compact between our two families. It was enacted again, when we were just children. We are meant to be wed, only, things have changed. I am no longer…"

But Frost Maiden wasn't listening. Wouldn't allow her to finish.

"Compact is nothing," she sleet-rattled. "He dies here and now. Then you shall have freedom and youth, tricking the hunters, forever."

Biting chill shrank the air. Cracked it like glass, snatching at breath and blackening flesh.

"You… speak of freedom, Milady," said Kalisandra, as Valerian scrawled hasty sigils of warding around them. "Yet… you mean to deny me the freedom to willingly choose your service… to be your drawn bow because that is what I want."

That Firelord was paying attention was evident from the odd drifting spark and occasional heat-ripple. Not precisely a threat. Merely watchful.

Frost Maiden pouted like an elf of seventy years; a human of maybe twelve or thirteen. One who'd deliberately chosen to never mature. She, too, sensed Firelord's nearness.

"Poacher!" she blizzard-howled, stamping a dainty foot. "Here stands your game piece, ready to claim and nullify mine, yet again!"

Valerian's hand was indeed upon Kalisandra's shoulder, but… only to help steady the ranger, whose hair had whipped loose of its fuzzy dark braid. Whose boots slid backward against icy cloud.

"I…" he began.

"SILENCE!" shrilled the goddess; keen as wind through ice-coated rigging. Then, caught by a sudden, sly notion, Frost Maiden actually smiled, purring,

"Very well. A hunt, with your boy as the quarry. Safe den is the giants' transport chamber. As for pursuit… hmm… let us have these."

Frost Maiden's hand described a swift arc, causing Gildyr, Salem and Mirielle to appear in the air by the cloud-span, still clutching and straining as though stopped in the act of clambering upward. At her mischievous finger-snap, three glowing spirits formed in the freezing dark sky: Fox, Hawk and Stoat. Not the creatures themselves, but their totems; their divine essence and lifeforce. That which had first been breathed into being, the day of creation.

Like shimmering smoke, the phantoms poured themselves into Salem, Mirielle and Gildyr, filling their unwilling hosts with a savage predator's hunt-lust; enveloping their bodies, suborning their wills.

"To your places," ordered the goddess, drawing a space-bending sigil. The hunters vanished like wind-driven snow.

"They lie in wait," she said. "All blows will seek out the boy. When thrice struck, he is eliminated. Dead in body and soul."

At least, those were her words on the surface. The spoken parts. Below that, tremendously complex runes of divine magic bent and folded reality; changing the bridge and the cloud-giant citadel above it. Shifting the mortals like game tokens.

Not intending to lose, she did not say what would happen once Val reached the transport disk, alive and unscathed. Just spun away like a crystal tornado, leaving her teasing laughter behind her.

"Stay close," urged Kalisandra, seizing his arm. "We watch for each other, just like at home, tracking orcs." Then, "I'm so sorry. She…"

"Is your goddess. She has her demands, as does the Shining One. I would not come between you, but…" he kissed her lightly, just brushing her icy cheek. Her impatient shove came half a beat later than it might have done. So, progress.

"Off!" she growled, while Valerian battled a grin.

The original stair had been awkwardly huge, but traversable. This new, altered structure was a nightmare of pit traps, deadfalls and hurdles, designed to maximize cover and ambush. On the one hand, meant to let fast, fleeing prey scramble to safety. On the other hand, to give predators plenty of places to lurk. Many vectors from which to attack.

Only, Val had just hatched a new plan. Half-formed and still changing, it might work, but he did not let himself think through it too clearly. Not with a hostile goddess as his opponent. One who'd set no conditions at all, should he succeed in evading her hunters and traps.

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Everything depended on surprise and on Kalisandra, who could be rid of him in a hurry, if that's what she truly wanted. Pointing to himself, he said,

"Bait." Adding quietly, "You're long-range cover."

Sandy nodded, but frowned, biting her lip.

"I would not harm those the goddess has forced into hunting you, Northerner."

Val had an answer for that. A trick he was struggling not to reveal. Taking Sandy's hand, he inscribed a sigil into her palm, then said,

"Your stored arrows. Need access, please."

She scowled bleakly, looking suspicious, but guided his hand into the faerie pocket containing her quiver and arrows. Inside the pocket, hopefully hidden from Frost Maiden, Val transferred the sigil to half of those barbed and serrated broad-heads.

A neat and subtle change took place. Now, their damage would not be external. Passing harmlessly through solid flesh, they would rip out a ride-along spirit. Pretending to kiss her face again, he whispered softly,

"Awair a clear, safe shot. They will fall stunned."

…then he really did kiss her cheek. First, because an angry goddess was more likely to make mistakes. Second, because he really wanted to.

Frost Maiden's voice began counting, in the high Empyrean tongue. Symbols flashed in the air as well; lighting those seething dark clouds from some angle that made no physical sense. Because she was fair (by her own estimation) Frost Maiden grudgingly restored Valerian's manna, as Firelord burnt away the night's harm and exhaustion. Better than he'd expected, actually. As for Sandy,

"I am in your hand, Milady, to save or cast off," he said to his maybe someday-wife. Next, he turned and began sprinting up the warped stairway, listening hard for approaching attack.

Val changed direction and misty-stepped randomly, moving sometimes in cover, sometimes out in the open, trying his best to have no discernible pattern at all except mostly forward and up.

Tall brambles grew somehow out of the cloud steps, but they were weak and fragile, having little actual substance. Being an elf, he could separate sounds from each other; telling wind and rustling foliage from the soft pad of footsteps, the flutter of wings. Also, Salem-now-Fox had not cast off her cloak, which he'd mage-traced, here too. But she wasn't the first to strike.

There was a sudden wide gap in the giant stairway, spanned by floating and bobbing ice chunks. Perhaps thirty yards across, the gap opened onto a distant landscape of hillock and marsh, so far below as to look like an abstract painting. Damp, chilly air blasted up from below, smelling of mud.

Valerian glanced around. Nothing, as yet. No Fox, Stoat or Hawk. He backed a few paces, as though intending to leap. Misty-step she'd expect, so he did something different. Cast blinding light and 'Hide', then projected a brief simulacrum of himself to the other side of the broken stairway. Next, he jumped about half the distance across, to the largest, most stable-seeming of those twisting and bobbing small icebergs.

Frost Maiden could certainly see through the ruse, but Gildyr, Salem and Mirielle hopefully couldn't. Kalisandra, well… genuine heart-bond would not be fooled by such basic illusion. If she felt anything for him, at all, she'd see through the spell.

His leap was good, his landing solid, despite that slick, tilting surface. Only, with a sudden burst of wild laughter, a taunting wind-voice shrilled: "Tricked you!" The ice chunk dissolved into glittering motes underfoot, leaving him standing on nothing but air.

Valerian plunged momentarily, frigid wind whipping, clothes rattling. Then he cast 'Levitate', preventing sudden, harsh reacquaintance with the spinning, uprushing ground.

Aimed himself at the higher edge of the stair-gap, meaning to hit the ground dodging. Then Mirielle appeared, surrounded by the glowing shape of a great hawk. She swooped toward him, mace in hand. Val did not act at once. He was meant to be bait. Just foolish, unheeding temptation, luring a predator out of concealment. He had to hold position long enough for Sandy to shoot and expel the possessing spirit. Only…

The girl was flying. There was genuine delight in her eyes, not prey-drive or hunger. He sensed a shadow at gap's-edge, above them. Kalisandra, leaning dangerously far; bow drawn, arrow nocked. She fired, sending a silvery shaft humming straight for the girl, who would plunge to her death, without the aid that indwelling spirit.

Heart-bond, he thought. For some reason, Mirielle loved him; had come to share joy with a friend, not to hunt him. But Kalisandra didn't know that.

With no time for formal sigils, he mage-handed that hurtling arrow, diverting its path from the soaring and banking young girl. Got himself back onto the stair with a surge of manna, landing safely over the crevice, no longer hidden from sight. Tucked the arrow away and then… stupid parlor trick, learnt from Murchison… batted Mirielle as high and as far in the air as wild-channeled manna would let him. Not dead, but off of the gameboard. That was one hunter dealt with.

He paused to be certain that Kalisandra made it across the floating ice chunk trail, putting his own bow away and extending a hand to steady her final, short hop. He started to thank her, to say something encouraging. Only, her face was tear-streaked and pale. She wouldn't look at him, but it was clear that her heart was being torn into two ragged halves.

"Sandy," he began, feeling utterly miserable. "I never intended to cause a rift between…"

"Go!" she said, savagely. "Frost Maiden will not spare a thief for changing his mind. Move, Fisher, before the others arrive!"

He moved, pivoting to lunge further upward; hurtling one obstacle after another. A sudden, glittering maelstrom turned the stairs at his feet into a violent whirlpool with fanged edges and a long, lashing tentacle. He leapt, tucked and levitated; not straight across, but a little bit sideways, dodging capture.

Vast, crashing boulders of ice thundered down-slope like an avalanche. Valerian misty-stepped past the first two, then used another Murchison trick to sprawl flat and meld with the stairs, white the next three rolled down and away.

Javelines of ice burst through the stairway with sharp, booming cracks, intending bloody impalement. He switched course at random, watching for the sudden bulge and glow that betrayed their shattering rise.

Frost Maiden's wrath was palpable, making the air burn with life-stealing cold.

He focused on staying alive and climbing the cloud span, relying on Kalisandra to knock Gildyr and Salem out of the fight. He could see the tall spires and floating islands of a sky-giant citadel, gleaming in sunshine, above. A few hundred paces, at most.

Did not expect Gildyr, burrowing up from under his feet like a desert sandworm. A last-moment change in direction probably saved his life, as Val was hurled backward rather than bitten in half.

He came up rolling, dodging a lightning-fast, razor-clawed paw. Drew Nightshade, determined not to need Sandy's help. Not to make her defy her goddess, again.

The druid was curled up like a bean inside the transparent, glowing form of a gigantic stoat; his magic forming a crackling web around the sly predator. Trouble. Very, very much that totem beast had the reach on Valerian… and firebolts would hurt Gildyr more than the spirit beast. Uttering crazed, bass chuckles, it circled and stalked him, baring teeth like an entire, up-ended armory.

Worse, the stair began forming deep pits all around him, limiting Val's physical motion. Not misty-step or levitate, though. As long as he had the manna to do so, he could flash in and out of its sight, keeping the totem beast scurrying.

Only, it wasn't that simple. Not being flesh, it did not have to actually turn. Just reshape itself. Sort of ingesting and then spewing its own substance to face in the right direction. It could also expand, although its strikes became more like wind than a physical blow.

Vines shot up from the cloud-step, grew wildly, then twisted and died, having nothing but vapor to draw upon. Even dead, they were dangerous, with thorns as long as his hand, dripping venom. He scratched himself ducking a swing of the Stoat's long tail, marking a point for the goddess.

Instantly, Valerian's right leg began swelling as toxin battled his ward sigils. His manna remained high. Firelord's doing, most likely. Val levitated, using a few cautious firebolts to burn off the thorns. Tried cutting at the stoat with Nightshade, but only succeeded in bloodying Gildyr, who twitched and rolled as if in a dream.

Shifting strategy, Valerian misty-stepped out of the bramble-ash and into the air over the totem-beast's questing head. Hurriedly pulled the spelled arrow out of its pocket, then drew back to throw it at Gildyr.

But then… distant but perfectly clear… an elk bugled. Karus, Lord of the Forest, awakened his heart-friend, causing the druid to slowly uncurl.

Moments later a bow sang. An arrow hissed past at an angle, close enough to stir Valerian's hair. It flashed through the glowing Stoat, and then on into Gildyr. Passed through the druid entirely, dragging tatters of shimmering spirit-silk. The Stoat writhed and then vanished, leaving Gildyr wobbling drunkenly. The druid half fell into Val, who caught him reflexively.

"Rest," said the high-elf, lowering Gildyr to a seat on the stairs. "You are freed of possession, and I cannot linger."

Salem lay in wait up ahead, Valerian sensed, between him and the citadel. Kalisandra was somewhere behind him, ready to strike again, though it tore her away from her goddess, forever.

Val shook his head and then resumed climbing, trying to think like a cat and a fox in unholy union. He had to win. Had to reach that stepping disk without further injury, and find a way to make everything right.

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