Firebrand

“That . . . that is not Zachary. Something is very wrong.” The captain’s boots tapped the floor as she paced. Then she paused. “It’s almost as if he’s bespelled, and I wouldn’t put such a thing past Second Empire.”

Anna dumped a panful of ashes into one of her buckets. She was working slowly, too slowly, but the conversation was very interesting. She knew she shouldn’t even be paying attention, but she couldn’t help herself. She shook her head. I need to—

Her thought was cut off by the opening and closing of a door, and that curious inrush of cold air made the flames leap and crackle. She hunched down, not wishing to be spotted by the king.

“I am returned, my—” He stopped short, the air and attitude of the room turning decidedly frosty. “Laren, what brings you here?” His tone was almost one of menace.

“I requested that she come,” the queen said. “Surely you would not begrudge a visit from your old friend.”

Silence. Then, “You are not to expose yourself to outsiders who may be carrying sickness.”

“Laren is not an outsider,” she countered, “and though you are my king and husband, I resent your telling me who I may and may not see. I am not your prisoner.”

Anna glanced over her shoulder again. The king looked furious, and the captain, who had remained quiet during the exchange, peered oddly at him, almost as if she were searching his soul.

“You have not been yourself,” the queen told him.

The room chilled considerably.

“All I wish to do is cherish you,” he said, “to honor you and our children.”

“You are right,” the captain told the queen, “he is not himself.”

Anna held her breath.

“In fact,” the captain said, “I would venture to say it is not even him.”

“What do you mean?” the queen asked.

“You know I have the ability to read a person’s honesty? I cannot read him. I am blocked by a wall of ice. I know Zachary’s mind and he has no ability to block me like this. Whoever this is, his mind is . . . alien. This is not Zachary.” The captain unsheathed her saber and cried, “FASTION!”

The king flung his hand out, and the captain was hurled across the room, her sword ringing when it hit the floor. She did not rise. The queen stood aghast, and there was pounding on the doors, voices shouting outside, Weapons trying to enter.

Terrified, Anna crouched down low to stay out of sight, not believing what her eyes and ears were telling her. The room was so cold no matter she was beside the fire.

“Who are you?” the queen demanded, fear quavering in her voice.

“I am more powerful than any king in the world. I am the north wind and the ice that bites in winter and thaws in spring. I am the maelstrom of a blizzard and the tranquility of a snow-covered field. The Eletians name me aureas slee. I am ice.”

As he spoke, the room grew colder and colder. Anna wrapped her arms around herself not wanting chattering teeth to give her away.

“Leave me,” the queen said. “Don’t touch me.”

“I must take you away from here. I will take you to my domain.”

“No!”

“I admit it is risky for your offspring, but I must have you.”

“Let me go!”

Anna turned and peered around the end of the sofa. The king, or whoever he was, held the queen’s wrists. She was trying to break away. It sounded like he planned to take her somewhere against her will. The Weapons battered the doors. They should have broken them down by now, but there must be magic at work holding them at bay. The captain couldn’t help, for she lay unmoving on the floor. The only one left to help was Anna.

But I am no one.

She was “no one” with a fire burning beside her. She took a breath to collect herself and gazed into flame.

“You are hurting me,” the queen protested.

“Calmly, my love. Being distressed will not be good for the children. We will be there in but a blinking.”

The sound of scuffling and the queen’s throttled scream came from behind. There was no time for Anna to worry if she was brave enough. She had to act. She thrust a bundle of kindling into the fire.

“Let me go!” the queen cried.

“Do not resist. You do not wish to harm the children, do you?”

The flames ate at the ends of the kindling. It seemed to take forever. In a flash, Anna remembered Sir Karigan dropping the chandelier on the ice creatures and by doing so almost setting the castle on fire. It was an extreme emergency and damage to the queen’s chambers was less important than helping the queen herself.

Anna grabbed her shovel and filled it with live coals. All at once she stood and turned and flung the coals toward the aureas slee. Most landed on the sofa, and flames flared up. The aureas slee was so surprised he let the queen go. He must have also been hit because he roared in pain. Anna ducked down and grabbed her bundle of kindling, the ends now ablaze. She tried not to think, to not let worries trip her up. She sprinted around the sofa and jabbed the burning kindling into the face of the aureas slee. He fell back, threw his arm up to protect his face. She kept pressing.

This is what Sir Karigan would do, she thought. Well, actually, Sir Karigan would probably use her sword, or maybe her staff, but if she had kindling, this is what Sir Karigan would do.

The sleeve of the elemental’s coat caught fire. He shrieked. His face began to lose shape, took on an icy translucence. He stumbled back into a chair and sent a great wind howling through the room. Tapestries and drapes ripped off the walls. Vases crashed to the floor. It tore the breath from Anna and nearly bowled her over, and it bent the flames of her kindling back at her.