The Turquoise Queen, Pedro Urvi [e book reader android txt] 📗

continued on their way with all the Rangers in the lead. To everybody’s surprise, they met no opposition. The trails of the enemy patrols were always retreating toward the north. Lasgol had no doubt that the Wild Ones knew they were there and were looking for them, and yet instead of fighting them they were retreating into the depths of the Frozen Territories. Were they drawing them into a trap?

That evening Gatik came to where Lasgol, Enker and Misten were looking after their mounts in preparation for the night.

“When you’re done, come and share dinner with us,” he told them, indicating his own campfire, where he and the Royal Rangers were warming themselves.

When Lasgol, rather surprised, thanked him, Gatik said: “We Rangers must stay together.” It sounded as if he meant it.

“It’ll be an honor to share a fire with the First Ranger and his Royals,” Enker assured him sincerely.

Gatik smiled and nodded, then turned and went back to his group. Lasgol noticed the lightness and poise of his walk. It was as though he were doing it on a tightrope. You noticed at once that he was someone with exceptional physical qualities. The Royal Rangers accepted them gladly and treated them well, as comrades, which the three were grateful for.

At dawn they went on northwards, and in the course of the day they found no trace of the Wild Ones. Lasgol described to his comrades the locations of the villages he had found on his previous expedition, and how surprised he was that they were being allowed to advance without any resistance.

That evening, while Gatik was in Sven’s command tent planning the next day’s moves, a soldier came to the fire Lasgol was sharing with the Royal Rangers.

“Lasgol Eklund?” he asked, seeming a little intimidated by the stares of the Royals.

“That’s me.”

“The King’s Mage would like to see you.”

Lasgol was surprised by the request, and all eyes turned to him. He shrugged. “I’ve no idea what he wants from me,” he said defensively.

“Good luck,” Enker said. His smile suggested that he was glad he was not the one who had been summoned.

Ona. Stay here with the Rangers.

Ona moaned in protest.

You’ll be fine with them, and you’ll be warm too. I’ll be right back.

“Look after her, please,” he said to Enker and Misten.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of her,” said Misten.

Lasgol did not want to take Ona with him, because although the Rangers were perfectly accustomed to the natural world and to animals, Magi were not, and they would be sure to be nervous at the sight of a snow panther, even though they knew she was his familiar.

Three of the Magi were sitting around the fire in front of the tent. One of them was concentrating deeply on a tome, while the other two were sitting, facing one another across the fire with their eyes closed. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, which was usually an indication that he was in the presence of magic. Suddenly he caught a white flash on the index finger of one of the Magi. A bolt of lightning flew from the finger and struck the chest of the other Mage. For a moment Lasgol was frightened. What on earth were they doing? They were sure to hurt themselves. Then he caught sight of something which made him understand: the bolt did not get as far as the chest of the other Mage, but hit something that looked like an armor of ice covering his body. It was not visible to the naked eye, only to those with the Gift. Lasgol relaxed. They were only practicing attack and defense with controlled spells.

He announced himself at the door of the tent.

“Please come in, Lasgol,” came a voice he recognized as Eicewald’s.

Inside, he found the Mage and one of his colleagues deep in the examination of a tome on a trestle table. It was of some size, with a striking cover of a golden and black hue. It seemed very unusual to him, presumably some book on magic or sorcery.

“You wanted to see me?” Lasgol said, although he did not want to interrupt them.

Eicewald looked up. “We’ll go on later,” he said to the other Mage, who nodded, gave Lasgol a brief nod and left the tent. “Yes, Lasgol, I wanted a word with you. Please make yourself comfortable.” He indicated two campaign chairs. “I’d like to talk with you, since you’re one of the few who’ve seen the Ice Specter, or Frozen Specter, as it’s known, and lived to tell the tale.”

“Yes, sir, of course. I’m at the disposal of the King’s Mage.”

“All the same, what I’m going to say to you is information I would rather were not be known outside of this tent. Call it Ice Mage’s zeal, but we like our business to stay private, and even though we may have a whole army with us, this campaign is first and foremost a matter for Magi.”

Lasgol’s eyes opened wide. He had not expected that confession-request, least of all from the most powerful Mage in Norghana.

“You honor me with your trust,” he said as politely as he could, though he was beginning to get the impression that Eicewald had his secrets and wanted to keep them to himself. Which was not strange among Magi, according to Egil. They were very jealous of their own power and knowledge, and rivalries and treachery were common among them.

“I need you to tell me everything you saw and experienced when you met the Frozen Specter, all over again. I want to make sure we haven’t overlooked anything.”

“Of course.” Lasgol told him everything that had happened, with as much detail as he could remember. While he did so, Eicewald watched him very attentively.

“And that’s all I remember …”

Eicewald nodded repeatedly