Phaze Doubt

“Thou didst help me much,” he said. “When I grow up, I will have an awful time finding a creature as wonderful as thou.” He had mentioned this before, but realized that it bore repeating, because she was even nicer to him when complimented. It also happened to be true. Her father Icebeard was one of the finest chess players of the planet; Icy took after him in being one of the most attractive females of the planet. It was obvious that both worked very hard at their specialities.

“Aye,” she agreed complacently. Then she leaned over and kissed him, granting the reward he had hoped for.

When they camped for the evening, the two other Adepts remained apart, evidently able to fend for themselves. Flach shared the tent again with Icy. She did not try to seduce him this time; she merely embraced him and slept. It was about the finest sleep he could imagine. He was quite smitten with her, despite the formidable differences between them; she knew this, and was satisfied. She liked to win, in love as well as cards, and was generous in victory.

On the second day, approaching the White Mountains, trouble came. Geysers of hot gas erupted from the snow, appearing randomly. One formed near a guard, and the demon had barely time to scream before he melted.

“O my love, our geyser enemy be striking!” Icy cried, terrified. “We must away, ‘fore it destroy us all!”

But already the gas vents were behind them; there was no sure way out. Flach, after his association with the snow demons, well appreciated the horror of this threat. Heat was their deadliest enemy. The icedogs were whimpering and milling about, seeking comfort close to the sledge. But he didn’t know how to stop the gas. Had he known about this threat in advance, he could have devised a suitable spell to counter it, but now he couldn’t think of anything.

The Black Adept skied up on his black-line skis. “Do thou do it now!” he called to Flach.

Flach realized that he was referring to the transformation Green had spoken of. He sang his spell: “In co’er o’ fog, exchange with dog.”

Vapor appeared, hiding him. Suddenly he was in the form of one of the icedogs—and the dog was in the form of the man Flach had appeared to be. The dog was bound by the form, unable to leave the sledge—but it was a good place to be, next to Icy.

Then the green fireball sailed up and exploded. Light blinded them all. But in a moment, as Flach and the demons and dogs blinked back their sight, the hot gas vents were gone. Green, the Adept of fire, had taken charge and suppressed them.

“Go on through!” the Black Adept called. “Before the jets resume!”

Icy called to the milling dogs, and they re-formed their lines and forged forward. Flach was one of the loose dogs, running beside the sledge. He saw Icy speak to the man-image beside her, then her surprise as she realized that something had changed, for the image barked in response.

Icy, absolutely no dummy, glanced across at Flach. He nodded his head. She nodded hers, catching on. She pursed her lips in a farewell kiss. Then she turned back to the figure on the sledge, treating it as a companion, while Flach ranged outward as if searching for new threats to guard against. He was glad she understood; with two other Adepts along, and an ambush awaiting them, she knew that he had to hide again. Perhaps he had been foolish to let her know about his change of form, but he thought she would help cover for him, and he didn’t want her believing that he was captured with the others. It was his hope that beneath her humor and games she really did care for him a little. That hope would sustain him for a long time.

The group went to the White Mountains—and the ambush was sprung. Icy had just directed the dogs to skirt a bank of fog, because she did not trust fog in this cold. It might be natural ice-fog, or it might be more hot venting. But before they could clear it, it abruptly expanded, and armed men stepped out of it, forming a semicircle around the sledge. This might be the realm of magic, and the demons might be made of ice, but they knew immediately that they were helpless before this enemy. The men were armed with flame-throwers, the most deadly mundane weapon here.

The Purple Adept stepped out of the fog. “We have tracked you three, and now have you. An any resist, we shall torch the snow demons here and take him anyway; we have set a spell to snare any who try to use magic to flee. What shall it be?”

“Thinkst to employ my specialty ‘gainst me?” the Green Adept said scornfully. “I can douse those flames, or turn them against thee.”

“An thou dost, thy family pay,” Purple said evenly. “And thine, Junior Adept,” he added, looking at the figure beside Icy. “We have all in tow.” He looked at the Black Adept. “And we can cut thy line: a Hectare missile be oriented on thy castle. But the Hectare be indifferent, and will harm none not who resist them not.”

“Thou dost come too late,” Black said. “We have planted the Magic Bomb where none can retrieve it.”