Conquest of Avalon

Fernan IX: The Quenched

The scary thing was just how fast everyone sprang into action.

At first, Fernan hadn’t needed a full view, since he and the other sun sages only had to maintain a wall of fire to screen the warriors’ descents. That was essential enough, with the rain of ice that immediately followed the Fox-King’s command. Each time one hit his green portion of the fiery shield, Fernan felt his energy take a noticeable dip, cutting into the reserves he’d built up burning down what felt like half the mountainside.

But those trees and plants would never grow again if Glaciel had her way, while they could be replanted in the spring if they succeeded here.

At least Fernan didn’t have any need to see the projectiles this way. They could simply slam against it out of nowhere, and the flaming shield could still do its job. He could see the intensity diminish where each spear of ice impacted it, along with the splash of water that did make it through, and it looked like Charles and Yves, the other sages of light from the temple, were holding their own just as well.

Still, holding the wall like this wouldn’t be sustainable, not with what was needed later.

Once the massive drums of sand dumped all of their contents onto the ice, they’d been pulled back from the ramparts to leave more space for soldiers to gather and ready themselves, organized by their respective captains to line up behind about a dozen rope ladders hanging from the stone.

Fernan took the chance to glance down below, where Glaciel’s island had embedded its icy grip into Guerron’s seawall. The whole icy Chilled tendrils of crystal slithered their way between every stone, constricting so tightly that some looked ready to bulge out of the wall. Concentrated fire might have been enough to break them loose, but right now the fact that the isle was fixed in place only served as a boon.

The whole icy plain of the island stretched beyond the wall, solid and rigid where once the sea had ebbed and flowed. And near the back, hard to make out against the cold air behind it, Glaciel’s castle stood tall and strong.

Now that sand covered the ground, Glaciel’s children were easier to make out against it, each dark silhouette readying a weapon skyward. Hard to tell, but it looks like less than last time. Florette and Mara’s efforts had doubtless made a dent, but the more likely cause was the rest of them being holed up in the castle itself.

Within Glaciel herself, perhaps, if her nature were truly so tied into her domain.

Florette’s idea to cover the ice served a greater purpose than granting Fernan a better view, though. With the last grain fallen, Mara took her cue to jump from her hiding spot under the wall’s lip, a bright green spot landing amidst the darkness. Five of her siblings followed, children of Gézarde, and representatives of his power.

Even if they were better at using it, their vision had all the same limits Fernan’s did, which made making out Glaciel’s children from the chill around them difficult at best. Fortunately, precision wasn’t what was required here.

As one, they blasted a line of fire out and upwards at an angle, careful not to melt the ice beneath their feet and ruin the preparations. Florette must have warned them about that. The high angle only clipped a few of Glaciel’s children, but mostly sailed over their heads. More importantly, it forced them to scuttle back away from the wall, lest they be caught in the next blast.

Granting the army above a foothold on the island.

Time was of the essence, for the barrier of fire could only protect them for so long. Everyone had to make it down quickly, or they’d have to do it unprotected. Or I’ll have to give up on the more important plan to avoid that. Either would be disastrous.

The Fox-King was the first to drop, leather gloves warming as he slid down the rope in one smooth motion. Near the bottom, he kicked off the wall and dove out, landing with a roll. Ringed by slowly advancing green flame, he raised his sword aloft, signaling his army to join him.

I can’t imagine Camille’s happy with that. Her final words of advice had been to keep her Lucien safe. But he’s the King. I can’t stop him if he wants to lead from the front.

“Credit where it’s due, he’s consistent,” Yves muttered beside him, holding his hands out to maintain his own sparkling yellow barrier. “I suppose at least we’re on the same side, this time.”

One company descended after, led by the Christine woman from the speech. Or is it a brigade? A platoon? It was hard to believe nobles could keep all these rankings and jargon straight, but, Fernan supposed, they were trained for it from birth, which ought to make it easier.

Another followed after, then another, each spilling into the space the geckos created as they slowly advanced, until a third of the island was covered in the flaming auras of warriors. Between the geckos and the sages on the wall, the ice javelins had few avenues to hit, though each one shielded was a drain on power.

Still, some managed to slip through the gap, and at least one hit the lines when it landed, sending a cluster of people to the ground. The first casualties.

The Fox-King lifted his sword again and called out something that sounded like “rotate,” though it was hard to be sure under the roar of the sea. His soldiers seemed to understand though, stepping forward the instant the geckos stopped emitting their flames.

Most of the ones at the front were hunched down, pushing their weapons towards the ground and then thrusting them forward, far away from any chance of them hitting anyone. What on earth is he having them do?

Glaciel’s ilk responded to that, jumping forward in the absence of Mara’s deterrent fire and swinging their chilling weapons into the bafflingly composed front lines.

Another call from the King, and Mara’s band of geckos began again, still careful to keep their fire clear of the floor.

Why—?

Fernan realized as the geckos stopped anew and another group of warriors rotated forwards, still throwing their arms under them and out.

They’re using buckets, flinging the sand further up to make the path.

And they’re dying in droves for it.

Mara and the geckos couldn’t really maintain their footing on the slippery ice, that was true, but how could it possibly be worth people’s lives just to allow them forward? And Lucien knew, and—

Abruptly, one gecko flame went out. Only one, out of sync with the pattern of the others.

Mara let out a roar of flame, low enough to burn almost a dozen of Glaciel’s children and let a burst of steam from the ice below. It looked like some of the water had melted, briefly, but angled spikes soon rose to replace it, far harder to clear without disrupting their own footing.

The Fox-King saw the issue, apparently, since he added a group with actual weapons to the rotation, hammering the spikes away for the sand throwers, then the geckos, and so on.

If only Camille were here, or her uncle were able to help. He’d been the one to save them last time, after all. A good wave could have knocked most of Glaciel’s forces clear away before they even descended, without even needing to slaughter them so.

But slaughter they did, and Glaciel’s army did in turn.

Fernan kept waiting for the moment when the battle would descend into a chaotic melee, a sea of duels and blood, but it never did. The front lines on each side held as the bodies continued to drop, Glaciel’s children slowly being pushed back towards the castle.

And who do you think he has carrying those buckets, Fernan? Not his professional soldiers. Not his knights. Avalon might have abolished levy service, but the Empire hadn’t. Every person here had voluntarily renounced protection from Glaciel, the whole structure had made sure they were there willingly, and yet…

How many would say no, crowded into that square of cheers and calls for blood? How many who said yes knew they were only fodder for the advance?

It was impossible to count the bodies anymore, impossible to tell who among the fallen was injured and who was a warm corpse.

They’re not even hurting anyone directly with those buckets of sand, just helping the effort. If I weren’t a sage, perhaps that’s even where I’d be right now.

“It’s time to go.”

“What?” Yves kept his focus on the protective wall. “There’s still a hundred people that need to get down. Easily.”

“More grist for the mill,” Charles muttered from his other side. “Yves, there’s plainly enough people there to make it to the castle. Once the Winter Queen’s ilk are penned inside, the rest of ours can make it down without our help.” He flicked his head towards his own wall, two panes of crackling blue that resembled Fala himself. “If Fernan thinks it’s time our talents were better spent elsewhere, I’m inclined to agree.”

Fernan blinked. “Thank you.” I should have gotten to know you better when I was working at the temple. The other sage had largely been withdrawn and taciturn then, but that was no reason Fernan couldn’t have tried harder. “If you two can push your walls towards the front, it keeps everyone down there out of the line of fire better. Um… Ice javelin fire, I mean. Missiles. You’ll obviously want to keep them out of range of your fire too though.”

“That sounds sensible to me.”

“Shall I ask permission from the wall’s commander?” Yves asked, taking the proposition in. “We wouldn’t want to leave anyone in the lurch.”

“Who?”

“I believe Sire Eugène Bourbeau holds command. I think I could reach him while maintaining my barrier.”

“No, I’ll tell him.” Fernan shook his head. “I’m the one who’s going… Well, anyway, can you two close ranks for a minute while I go? I’ll send out a flare if we’re good to go.”

“It won’t be an issue,” Charles assured, while Yves simply nodded.

Fernan stepped back, watching the shimmering gold meet the crackling blue as each sage’s wall expanded.

Immediately, he felt the drain on his own power end, walking slightly lighter for it. Still, that’s half of it gone already. It was just as well this had to be done now, or things could be even worse.

Sire Euguène Bourbeau was probably the man standing tall above the rest, directing others to organize the rope ladder descents.

“Stop your men,” Fernan told him. “The people below need better cover to get to the castle. Up here, there’s shelter behind the wall. The sages of light will be advancing to assist.”

“Who are you to command me?” Bourbeau scoffed. “King Lucien was very clear with his instructions, and—”

“And he’ll understand the need for this.” I hope. “I’m Fernan, sage of Gézarde. I helped—”

“Yes, yes, the trial. Of course. But the fact remains that I have command, and my orders were to get every last soldier down to that island. Now return to your post immediately.”

Fernan looked into his aura, a calm, unruffled orange even atop all this carnage, then back towards the dead below. “Stop your men,” he said again, and fired the signal into the air.

Before Bourbeau could respond, Fernan jumped from the wall, diving towards the water so he could slow his descent without melting the island.

At least his allies were clear, humans and geckos with auras fierce and bright against the eternally dark horizon.

Glaciel’s ilk were far harder to make out, a shifting sea of cold worse than the air, of rippling darkness only illuminated briefly if they surged forward towards the flame from the geckos.

From just three of them, now.

“Mara, I’m sorry.”

“You— Fernan?” She kept up her rhythm, but spared a glance back as the bucket carriers charged in once more. “Teo wanted revenge, but the others just wanted to help end this.” Her aura was plainly dull, her fire dimmer. Drained, if not of energy then of spirit. “Will it ever end? I thought…”

“Go back home, Mara. Take the others.” He kept his voice low, careful not to get anyone’s attention. “Yves and Charles are coming to take your place. You’ve lost enough today.” He pointed to the advancing walls of blue and gold fire above their head, protecting less but still most of the front lines, at least from the air. The sun sages might be one fewer in number, but they’d had far greater opportunities to amass their energy than the geckos, and needed only to largely match their function rather than exceed it.

Mara rotated in once more, advancing across the sandy ice to push the ice creatures back with green fire, swiveling her head to cover more ground, now that there were fewer of them doing it. Once she was done, she turned to Fernan anew. “That’s why I can’t leave now. Besides, weren’t we going to—”

“That’s not as important as keeping you safe.”

Mara’s mouth shifted, her face twisting in contemplation. “Radah, Shia,” she called to her siblings. “It’s time to go. Fernan brought help.”

The other geckos nodded, then scurried off towards the wall. This has to be ok. They’ve lost enough.

Still, probably better not to wait for the Fox-King to call him out on the change of plans. They were almost at the doors of the ice castle anyway. A few more minutes, and yet more dead, and they would be there.

A siege, of a sort, rather than open battle.

From what Camille had said, that was historically no less deadly. And they didn’t have enough time to protract it anyway.

That was where he and Mara came in.

Glaciel had spoken of ice enduring, hardened and strong even as others melted away. She was replenishing herself with the island, the castle, and the most powerful of her children could do the same.

As the battle lines inched closer, the terrain only grew more hostile, greater numbers of spikes and pits forming up out of the ground. Closer to the seat of her power. No doubt, by the time they even arrived at the castle doors, they’d have frozen solid shut, if not melted away into the wall entirely.

And why not, for an ice spirit on an island of ice?

The Fox-King could concern himself with the grisly conflicts of ice creatures and warriors, but there was a way to accomplish far more without shedding a drop of blood.

“Just like we practiced,” Fernan muttered to Mara, though their drills without expending actual flame were severely limited in how useful they could be. He jumped into the air, careful not to melt the ground, then exhaled another stream of fire.

He could see every errant mote, ever licking tongue pulling at the air, sucking the cold away. All of it, he swirled around himself, first a disc above his head, then gradually lowered sides.

Camille had said that a sphere was the most resistant shape to impact, diffusing force across its surface. Confirmed it as scientific fact, even, because of something about superficial area. Where she’d heard that from, Fernan had no idea, but given his needs right now, it served to minimize his energy loss while keeping the flame far enough from his skin.

He took a deep breath as the half-dome descended to just a few feet above the ground, more than sufficient to shield their advance without unduly making things difficult for the people shoveling sand. The bucketeers, Fernan thought with a smile. Even marched to the front, they’re doing more with sand than a dozen times their number with swords.

Mara squeezed under the gap, and Fernan jumped atop her back.

As clumsy as a gecko was on the slick ice ahead, Fernan would be almost as bad himself. At least this way, come what may, they’d be shielded together. Keeping close let him keep the dome smaller too, which was good, since every instant it remained drained his power, and sacrifices of the mountains.

They split off to the side, trying to avoid the largest concentration of foes. Though it was hard to tell exactly where that was when they blended in so well.

Still, crossing the front lines instantly turned his shield into a pincushion of icy polearms, followed by an irritating splash of lukewarm water. Some of it even got in his eye, which made for a terrifying moment of blindness until he reignited it with his remaining flame.

Fortunately that was the worst of it, though several continued to pepper them as they continued on. Most of the winter forces needed to keep their eyes on the advancing line of soldiers, after all, lest they let the entire island be overrun.

One crashed into the dome in the shape of a body, but another pulled it back before it melted.

Fuck, that was close. Fortunately, the assaults died down as they broke past the thickest concentration, giving a moment to recover.

I’m already down to a third of what I stored up, and the battle’s barely begun. “Mara, now,” he signaled, as close to the castle as he dared approach.

Not missing a beat, Mara blasted flame from her mouth, pointing it towards the place where it would do the most damage as she continued skittering forward as best she could across the increasingly-treacherous ice.

The castle itself could be repaired, drawing on the enormous mass of the island that they could never hope to exhaust. Fernan had thought to try collapsing it from the foundation, but what need had Glaciel for normal structural integrity? She controlled the walls and the ground; even a clean slice of the bottom layer held no promise of felling the structure.

Embedded into her castle like this, Glaciel’s control of the ice had to spread from there. She was master of all within its walls, but the further away, the more her control would cost. Camille had mentioned that in the context of her secretly investing power into the ground outside the walls of Hiverre over the course of weeks. Once she was ready, she erected it in a matter of minutes and captured the city for the Fox-Queen in one fell swoop. A triumph for Glaciel, but the story exposed a weakness they could work with.

Mara’s flame spat downwards in a thin, concentrated stream, boring a sharp hole into the ice. Once it made it a few feet deep, she advanced forward, slicing further through the ice faster than Fernan had ever managed to cut through the castle.

There was a real chance she wouldn’t even notice, prideful as she was about her eternal castle. Especially when Lucien’s forces were almost at its gates.

Flying might have worked better, but sustaining himself in the air with the shield and blasting fire where he needed to was a great way to run out in about five minutes and plummet back into the sea. And without the shield or the ability to see them coming, he’d be speared through in even less time.

Along the ground though, Mara made amazing time, circling nearly halfway around the castle before the first of Glaciel’s children began to attack in earnest.

And that’s my cue. Fernan jumped from her back, shooting fire from his finger towards the shadowed silhouette.

It looked like only a few had been sent after them, though he had no way of knowing how powerful they were. Still, it looks like she hasn’t figured out our real plan.

Florette had fought them many times before, as had Mara, though the latter often depended on the former to act as a spotter. I might have taken her along for the same, if she weren’t busy with something more important right now.

Instead, Fernan expelled a stream of green from his lungs, pursing his lips to condense the stream to a finger-thin line, much like what Mara was using on the ground. His aim was low, disabling at the legs with a lesser risk of hitting anything vital.

That was cold comfort once he heard their screams, though. Nor did it help that the noise alerted another company on the back lines to turn towards them and begin the attack anew.

Without time to focus on each faint javelin, Fernan simply slammed a wall of fire down in front of them, though it burned through far more of his energy than the targeted blast. It didn’t help for long, either, though it gave time for Mara to skirt out of their way.

Fernan covered her back, spewing large balls in their direction, hopefully easy enough to dodge while still covering him from any spears they might throw.

Another grisly scream told him that one had hit, but all of the shadowed figures were still moving. None of them died. In fact, most still seemed unharmed, though they needed a second to regroup.

Looking back, he could see that Lucien had nearly made it to the doors, though heaps of warm bodies had been swallowed into ditches and holes the Winter Queen had formed under them.

Faster, then. With a wince, he tightened his focus and shot out blinding light, feeling his power fade with every jet of flame. A slower loss than the continuous shield, but a steady depletion all the same. Already he was at less than a quarter, and they had to hold out longer still.

If Camille had been here, perhaps she could simply sweep them off with a wave. Hopefully she was doing something important right now, because her command of water could have spared countless lives in this battle.

One spear almost managed to catch him in the leg, and only a reflexive shield of fire saved him, though it cost him dearly.

More fire would make a world of difference, right now. Did I make a mistake?

But the geckos had suffered enough.

Fernan rose into the air, feeling the last of Gézarde’s fire leave him. But a sage always had a last resort.

He reached for the flame within himself and pushed it out, choking as he felt it leave him. Each blast drew on his life, and there was no replenishing that.

A day, then two, then weeks. Months.

Lord Lumièrte had spent two years of his life to survive his duel against Camille; Camille hadn’t even said how much her loss would have cost her if she hadn’t been able to leverage her influence.

Still, it was enough to keep afloat, keep him burning the surface below, circling around the castle.

Lucien’s forces had penned the rest of Glaciel’s children back inside the castle, if anything only increasing the rain of javelins down from its walls. It was hard to see, but it looked like the doors had indeed melted away into a solid wall. And who knows how thick she made it?

But javelins could not be conjured from nothing. Each thrown could only be replaced with the castle’s ice, stretching Glaciel ever thinner.

Fernan felt a year pass as he continued, jerking back and forth in the air as unpredictably as he could while still keeping Mara shielded from her pursuers. Walls of flame were enough to keep them blocked and separated, but more and more of the ice creatures were taking notice.

Just how many children does Glaciel have? How long can we keep this up before she gets suspicious?

Back at the battle lines, a crackling blue bolt of flame blasted the wall open, Charles’s wall momentarily dismissed. Yves followed soon after, cycling his own fire with the wall. Just the way everyone made their way up the island.

Perhaps Lucien had instructed them to do it, or perhaps they’d taken the initiative.

Either way, it bought enough time to finish softening the ice around the foundation, a thin slice through, hopefully far enough from her castle that Glaciel hadn’t noticed.

But even if she did, it’s too late now.

Fernan shot a green beam of light straight up into the air, his signal to Lucien’s army to retreat.

With the walls closed off, no one pursued them back, but that wouldn’t hold for long. Even now, Glaciel was surely beginning to sense the trap, and every second only made it more likely that she could react in time to spoil it.

Lucien lifted a banner from one of his knights and waved it high, the signal for Florette, waiting wherever she’d managed to hide herself.

For a terrifying moment, nothing happened, and it seemed as if all their plans would amount to nothing. Every distraction, pushing Glaciel’s forces back to the castle, weakening the foundation without drawing her attention…

A deafening blast split the air, louder by far than even the battle above as a cloud of icy splinters and dust flew through the sky. After a moment, the island split open, the small cuts around the castle turning into massive tears in the ice as the whole area beneath began to collapse. A few jagged cracks even stretched out from the circle across the island, forcing a few of Lucien’s army to jump to one side or the other, but none of them fell.

The same could not be said for Glaciel’s castle.

As the battle had raged above, Florette and Corro had burrowed beneath, planting countless charges of gunpowder directly under Glaciel’s seat of power, just far enough to avoid her notice. Being imbued with the influence of a spirit of wasting and decay hadn’t hurt either, nor did Corro’s ability to set them off without harm to himself.

Fernan allowed himself a breath as he alighted back on the ground, short five years of his life.

The castle hadn’t crumbled completely, reinforced as it was by Glaciel, but the ground underneath had completely collapsed in the explosion, dropping the edifice deep below. Even the top of the tower was beneath the ground level now, though damage to the lower floors probably accounted for a lot of that.

Lucien called something out to the troops and began organizing them to rain fire and arrows down into the hole to draw Glaciel out, but Fernan couldn’t hear him clearly.

The fire was still buzzing in his ears, simmering in his blood even after he’d stopped.

Mara blasted apart a chunk of ice in her way, kicked up by the explosion. The flame in her breath was clearly fainter than it had been even minutes ago, but she looked thankfully unharmed.

Breathing heavily, Fernan crept slowly across the icy ground, still slippery even if it was no longer actively trying to kill him. He wrapped an arm around Mara and pulled her close, then let go. “Thank you.”

“Thank you!” she hissed. “I’ve never seen you go all out like that. It was so cool!”

“Well, nothing without a cost.” He glanced out over the water, then back to the ice pit where Lucien’s forces were already assembling wooden walkways and walls for cover. Now that people could descend from the city unmolested, they had the time and people to do better than sand.

Build up enough to convince Glaciel she couldn’t win, and they might even be able to end the day without further bloodshed. At the very least, it would give them a needed edge.

“What’s that?” Mara asked, an instant before Fernan saw it too.

A swirling vortex of snow was forming above the hole, covering the black sky with grey and white.

“Snow?” Fernan guessed. “I’m not sure it’ll really make a difference. If it can, you’d think she’d have used it earlier, when everyone was crossing the island.”

Perhaps it was just invisible to his sight, but no snow seemed to fall either. It didn’t really seem to be doing anything.

“Just clouds, by the look of things. None of her monsters ever did this, either, so I don’t think it’s for fighting.”

“Hopefully nothing serious, then.” I only have so much life to burn. “For now, we have to trust that the people here can push her to surrender. Our part is done for tonight.” He held up a hand as he saw her start to object. “Mine, anyway, but I think you should stop too. Be content with what we’ve accomplished.”

“Fine,” Mara pouted, though her heart obviously wasn’t in it.

“I want to talk to Lucien before we head back. Yves and Charles, too. I don’t want them getting any flack for my decisions.” And it’s one last chance to make a case for mercy. Otherwise, if Glaciel didn’t surrender, Fernan didn’t even want to think of what would happen to everyone penned inside the sunken castle. This ought to have earned me some credibility, but it’s impossible to be sure it’ll be enough.

The vortex continued to swirl in the sky, still appearing to do nothing, though of course there would be more to it.

Still, it was hard to see exactly what it could accomplish—

Fernan felt a chill to his bones as his face slammed into the ice, a damp cold feeling seeping in through his clothes.

A wave…

Camille? Or—

Another wave crashed down over the island, scattering besigers everywhere. Fernan struggled to regain his breath, trying to force himself back up in time, but he couldn’t even inhale before another surge of water pushed him from the island.

The water beneath was even colder, even harder to see, but still Fernan forced himself to the surface, squeezing his eyes closed to keep them protected from the frigid depths.

Fernan tasted air for only a moment before he felt a deep growl filled the air, blowing his wet hair back as it sent a shiver down his spine.

A scaly limb curled around his ankle, and pulled him under.

The last thing Fernan saw before the water extinguished his eyes was a dark, twisted shape gliding across the waves.