Fire of Life, Part 1: Frozen Soul

By: Flaerian Posted on: July 30, 2004

"Any word from Aeron?"
Floran looked up from his desk, half annoyed and half pleased to see an intruder standing in the doorway of his study. The annoyance was pushed away by the pleasure, however, when his mind caught up with his senses. The young Tsol'aa woman before him was always a pleasant sight.
"I'm sorry to say no, Tahnya. Although our intelligence team is even more active then usual," he made a way gesture over a messy pile of letters and even an odd journal, "I've received no news from Aeron."
Tahnya sighed, and half turned to leave. She paused a moment, and then turned back. "What're you working on these days, Floran? I haven't seen you outside of the dormitory areas for a few months now."
"Oh, I'm just trying to keep up with reports," he said offhandedly, before rubbing his forehead in what he hoped looked like a display of exasperation and exhaustion.
"Reports? Come on, Floran. You can go through a year's worth of reports in a day. What've you really been up to?" Floran grinned at Tahnya, but said nothing. "Oh come on," she persisted, "I'll find out sooner or later."
"Then it'll be later," Floran said with a chuckle.
"You're just becoming a grumpy old bore," Tahnya said, half believing it as she walked out.
Floran waited for the door to close behind her before turning back to his desk. He picked up one of the more recent intelligence reports, and began reading. Seconds passed, and he threw it down in annoyance – useless dribble was what most of them were. He stood, and began pacing his study – a relatively small room, dominated by a bookcase and his desk.
It wouldn't be too bad, Floran thought, if Aeron would communicate with him once in awhile. Aeron knew what he was doing – he was one of the few other humans who worked for the Tower, and he certainly had a head on his shoulders. Even if he hadn't actually heard anything, he would at least have some theories.
Floran sighed, and picked the report back up.

‘Black cohosh and Kola nut prices continue to grow in the shops of Ashtan, and many have taken to using a refined form of Gleam to further push back sleep, which inevitably brings the dreams. Despite many such efforts, more and more citizens in the Bastion are waking from their slumbers near death. ‘As of yet, there are no reported fatalities in the city attributed to the frozen slumber, but gleam withdrawal is a common sight on the streets at this time, as is death from an overdose of the drug.'

Floran continued reading the letter, but the rest was even more in concise then the bit on the ‘frozen slumber'. The usage of the term annoyed Floran to no end, yet it was being used more and more frequently by a growing number of people. It was simply to vague, and people were going to panic unless someone bothered to actually figure out what was happening.
"Well, that's not my problem," Floran muttered. ‘At least not yet,' he thought.
"What's not your problem?"
Floran turned from his desk for a second time, this time the annoyance beating out the pleasure. Before him was a fellow human, and unlike the beautiful Tahnya, Irgon was quite unsightly. It was more then that, though – he had once liked this man, despite his appearance.
"What do you want?" Floran snapped. Irgon's faced twisted into what Floran guessed was meant to be a smile, but the nature of the gesture was lost to the hellish arrangement of his face. "I know what you've been up to."
"Really? And I suppose you've come to brag about the fact that while I've been entrusted with dealing with intelligence you're, what? Scrubbing pots?"
"For your information, I'm in charge of our combat unit," Irgon said, his face writhing into the lines of what one could theoretically call a grimace. "Oh really? And who is that made up of? You and…?"
Irgon spat on the floor, and left, the door slamming behind him. Floran sighed in relief, and once more began pacing his study. He had thought that he had been discreet – and really, there were only few things that could even possibly be traced. Regardless, Irgon seemed to think he knew something. Suddenly fed up with his surroundings, Floran left his study, slamming the door behind him. He hadn't been out all day, and suddenly he was filled with energy. The hallways were well lit, and he walked quickly. He passed doors to his east and west as he walked north, until he reached the end of the hall. There he reached up, and opened a small trap door. Moments later Floran was standing outside, on the roof of the tower. The cold mountain air further invigorated him, and he was filled with an energy he had not known for some time. Walking to the roof's edge, he was annoyed to discover that a dense fog blocked his view of the Aalen and beyond – on a clear day one could see the ocean from the top of the tower. Sighing, Floran looked down upon the world directly below him. A number of people were moving about in the courtyard below, and with surprised he saw that two were even practising with swords. One had the build of a troll, and the other was definitely a satyr. He watched for a time, two tiny figures with flashes of steel running between them.

* * *

The dining room was nearly empty, as Floran walked in. The few small groups talking and eating there didn't notice as he walked in, and he made no attempt to draw their attention to him. He walked briskly into the kitchen. "Hello, Couke." He said, opening a pot and smelling its contents. The squat grook cook spun around, and opened his mouth – a stinging comment about the terrible things that happened to those who touched his food dieing on his tongue. "Floran? What're you doing down here?" he said.
"Just getting a bite to eat," he said, ladling the contents of the pot into a bowl. "Looks great."
Couke's eyes grew to about twice their size in indignation, but before he could revive the deceased comment, Floran had left to the dining room. Upon his second entrance to the large chamber, Floran's presence was noticed. "Hey Floran, Good to see you've descended from the Crypt!"
Floran grinned, and made his way over to the table of the loud satyr, who had shouted with a large piece of chicken in his mouth. Heads turned towards him, and a few greeted him as he past. "Good to see that I'm still not the only one who holds such a twisted schedule," Floran said, sitting down.
"Were always here," the satyr said with a chuckle.
Floran talked for a time with the satyr, and a few others approached their table, sitting down and joining the conversation. It was good to be among friends again, Floran thought. After some time, however, his mind inevitably drifted back to his study – which had been dubbed his Crypt by most of his friends. He talked for a little while longer, the surging energy that had filled him not long before waning. Eventually he stood, gave some excuses of pressing work to be done upstairs, and made his way back up to his study.

* * *

Days went by, and Floran's reports inevitably began to contain more and more drivel on the ‘Frozen Slumber'. It was not that he didn't believe something was happening, it was just that not one of his incompetent intelligence agents had bothered to probe those who had actually encountered the reputably horrible phenomenon. Instead, countless letters arrived, reporting the growing prices of cohosh, kola, and even gleam. Despite the lack of information that Floran actually wanted, he was able ascertain that the number of people being affected by the slumber was growing. As far as he could tell, Sapience's general populace had first taken note of the slumber in Ashtan. Floran suspected, however, that it had originated somewhere closer to Thera or the Black Forest, due to some vague, earlier reports.

‘The Frozen Slumber, as it is now being called on the streets, seems to have spread to all of the City-States,' one report read. ‘Although it is unknown how the epidemic is spreading, the Priests have been studying its movement. ‘The Priests say that the ‘slumber' is not moving about through contagion, and they have deduced that the cause is most likely magical in nature. The most recent news is that they have begun working closely with the Magi to discover the slumber's cause. ‘I have taken the liberty of speaking to someone who claims to have been affected by the slumber. He seemed to be shivering, and despite an almost constant application of a caloric salve, he could not stop. He said that he had dreamt of a frozen wasteland, and then had stopped dreaming about it – he was in the wasteland, and was freezing. Since he has woken up he has been unable to stop shivering. ‘From what I can gather this was a most mild case – some have very narrowly escaped a frozen death. Regardless, I shall be returning shortly. We must begin the project.'

Floran smiled slightly as he began burning the letter. Although it was unsigned, he knew the writer to be Aeron. Finally, things were beginning to be set in motion.

* * *

"Cohosh?" Floran asked, offering the herb to Tahnya as he chewed one himself. She shook her head, and Floran shrugged, returning the herb to his rift. Weeks had passed since he had received the letter from Aeron, and there had been no further news from him. Floran had long since descended from his study, impatient and unable to tolerate the steady influx of reports. The insomnia wasn't helping, either – not long after Aeron's report, someone in the Tower had woken up shivering, and since then no one wanted to go to sleep. It was inevitable, however, to rest eventually – the slumber grew worse with each case.
"You were saying," Tahnya said testily as she cut a piece of mutton, "That you haven't heard from Aeron in quite some time?"
Floran shook his head, "Not for months. And you asked, I didn't say anything."
The chatter going on around them was strained – the dining room was full however, Floran was happy to be among people again. As he ate, he half listened to Tahnya talk, but he was unable to focus. His mind was elsewhere. "I've got to go," he said, standing.
Tahnya had a fork halfway to her mouth, and she blinked as he began walking away. "Wait," she said, but he was gone.
Floran walked hurriedly upwards, stair after stair, floor after floor. He was on the top floor, storming down the hallway. He reached up for the trapdoor. "The dead returns to the Crypt?"
Floran turned, and cursed. He clenched his fist, and resisted the urge to punch Irgon in the face. "What do you want?" he asked.
"Just thought I'd say hello," Irgon said, ignoring the anger that was obvious in Floran's voice.
"Well say it, and get out of here,"
"Hello. Would you please stand aside now? I'm going up to the roof."
Floran cursed, and pulled the trapdoor open. Irgon gave his twisted smile. "You'll be joining me, then?"
A thick barrier of cloud covered the sky, but Floran felt better just being in the open – despite Irgon's presence. He spent a moment clearing his head, allowing the cool air to blow away his stress before walking to the edge of the tower, pointedly ignoring Irgon. It took Floran only a moment to focus; although he had thought it would be much more of a challenge to utilize abilities he had long ago stopped using. Floran blinked – his farsight had to be wrong. "Where are you going?" Ingor asked, his eyes narrowing as Floran opened to trapdoor back down to the hallway.
"The living aren't confined to the Crypt, Irgon. Just visiting."
Across the hallway, down the stairs, across another hallway, another set of stairs. Floran picked up speed as he went, almost running flat out by the time he reached the ground level. He dashed through the foyer, and out into the courtyard where he looked wildly around.
"Hello, Floran." He spun around to see Aeron dismounting from his horse.

* * *

"What, in the names of the Gods, took you so long?"
They were in Floran's study, Aeron sitting on the room's sole chair, Floran pacing back and forth. "I got sidetracked in Cyrene, and then in Caer Witrin," Aeron said with a mocking smile, "It's a nice town. Have you been there before?"
"You know I haven't left the Tower for years. Most of us haven't. What in the name of the Logos were you doing in Caer Witrin? You know better then to fool around on the job. Especially when people – when I am waiting for you."
Long days of insomnia caught were rapidly catching up with Floran, and he was steadily feeling more and more irritable. "I heard a certain flower there – I wanted to see if it had any connection with this ‘slumber' that's plaguing Sapience."
"And?"
"Nothing. It wouldn't have added up, anyway."
"I'm happy that you're satisfied," Floran said sarcastically.
Aeron leaned forward, suddenly serious. "I see that you've been dosing yourself with cohosh. There's no need."
"What, by Sartan's spit, do you mean?"
"I mean that you are immune."
"And why is that?" Floran asked, biting his tongue before uttering some choice insults.
"You're human, that's why."
Floran blinked. "What?" "I was in Ashtan when we first got a report of the slumber. It was written off as a nightmare or a prank. When a few others fell victim, however, I began paying closer attention. The problem is that people are so bloody uncaring about race – were so used to living together that you don't really think about saying ‘this guy is a troll' or whatever when you're just talking. "I always looked into someone if I had heard that they had been hit by the slumber, however. And I kept records. Pretty soon I began to notice that there were just no humans among the list of victims. "When everyone started emptying shops of cohosh and making the Forestals richer, I decided to save a sovereign or two, and test my theory."
"And you're not shivering yet. Good sign." Floran said.
"Yeah. So get some sleep. I'm not going to deal with you when you're like this."
Floran needed no further urging. He walked out, and headed for his room.

* * *

"Get out of my kitchen!"
Aeron ducked, narrowly dodging a ladle. "Calm down, Couke! I'm just getting a bite."
"You want a bite? Wait until I serve a bite! Get out! Out!"
Aeron dodged another flying object. This one, however, shattered and neatly sliced into his arm. "Okay, I'm going!" He said, hurrying out of the kitchen.
Aeron looked around the dining room, unnerved by the complete silence. The few people present were sitting like some sort of Jester contraption about to go off. Producing a piece of mutton and some fruit from within a pocket of his shirt, he began eating even while he made his way up to Floran's study. Aeron was not surprised by the fact that the study was empty, as Floran would probably be asleep as of yet. As such, Aeron sat down at his friend's desk and began organizing reports. "Still a mess," he muttered, wondering at how Floran managed to keep track of which items had been read. Disgruntled by the obvious impossibility of organizing the reports, Aeron began reading them. Most of them, he decided, were useless drivel. "Why is Floran having these people paid?" he muttered.
For quite awhile Aeron read reports, almost all of them containing information that he already knew, most of them repeating what most every other report said. After quite awhile, he came to a report that caught his attention.
"What are you up to, Aeron?" Aeron spun around, and was relieved to see that it was Floran standing in the doorway. "Catching up on your reports, it seems."
"You know everything that's on those," Floran said, disgust written plainly on his face. "Not everything," Aeron held up the report that he had just found. "This is new."
Floran took the report, and scanned it quickly. "By the Gods," he swore. "Its bad – we should get over there." Aeron nodded "People are dieing, Aeron! This isn't just some joke anymore."
"Not people, Floran. Person. True, it will probably only get worse, but someone has to do something."
"You're right. Sorry, I guess I'm still kind of tired." Floran scanned the letter once again. "It seems like everything is beginning in Ashtan. We should head there first."
"Sounds like a plan. Suit up, and meet me on the roof when you're ready." As Aeron left, Floran walked over to his bookcase. He began pulling books down, until he found a small key in the back. He then unlocked a small compartment on the bottom of his desk. The sword that fell out was getting old, but it still had some months of usefulness in it, and the shield was much newer. It was the kitbag that Aeron grabbed first, however. He opened it, and examined each of the vials within. Satisfied, he pocketed each vial, grabbed his sword and shield, and headed for the roof. "I've been working hard," he told Aeron upon clambering through the trapdoor, "On making contact with the magi guilds in all of the City-States."
"Any luck, then?" Aeron asked, turning from the view at the edge of the tower. "Limited with the Warlocks, but were not going to Mhaldor, are we? The Sorcerers have agreed to assist me at a moment's notice, provided I keep sending them pearls."
"Does anyone know about you contacting the outside like that?"
"Irgon claims he knows something, but that imbecile will say anything to get on my nerves. I doubt that he knows anything."
"Right. Ready to break some rules?"
"Always."
Moments later, a portal opened. They stepped through and found themselves in Ashtan.

* * *

Two days spent wandering around Ashtan and the surrounding area gave Floran and Aeron no new information. Deaths continued to take place, but they were not discussed – death is not such a difficult thing to deal with, after all. On the third day, they were wandering through the marsh south of Ashtan.
"I say we head south and check out the Black Forest later on," Aeron was saying, "We can talk to Seasone, see if she knows anything, and then head down as far as the Rock."
"What about Thera?" Floran asked.
"I spent some time in Thera a month or so ago. I didn't find anything particularly interesting, but I guess we should go at some point. After were done to the south?"
"Sounds good," Floren replied, but then stopped dead in his tracks. He held up a hand, gesturing for Aeron to stop.
"What?" Aeron whispered after several seconds of silence.
Floran in the direction of the road, "There are three Paladins in that direction," he whispered. "They're blocking the road to Ashtan."
Aeron nodded. He had encountered several such events similar to this commotion over the past months – ever since Ashtan began its attempt to summon the Spawn. "A few citizens of Ashtan just showed up," Floran said, his brow furrowed in concentration. "They have a couple of orphans with them."
"I want to go check this out, Floran." Aeron said, and began making his way to the road. A few moments later, Floran followed.
When they arrived at the road, the Paladins and the Ashtani were in the midst of battle. It was a short and brutal battle – the Paladins triumphed over the Ashtani, separating their souls from their bodies with only one loss.
"Come on," Floran whispered to Aeron – they were as of yet unnoticed, and Floran wanted it to stay that way.
"Wait, look." Aeron was staring wide-eyed at the remaining two Paladins. They were shivering wildly. One approached the body of his fallen comrade and gathered it up in his arms. Seconds ticked by, and he adjusted his hold. Nothing happened.
Suddenly, the air around the still present souls of the dead began hardening into a white frost. The Paladins backed off, obviously extremely cold. More frost appeared, and it began hardening into a shell around each soul. Within seconds, all that remained was disfigured ice sculptures. All who were both present and alive stood stock-still, shocked by what had just taken place. Before they could even begin wondering what had happened, the ice melted. There were no souls beneath the ice. Seconds ticked by. The two paladins gathered up the orphans and quickly left. Aeron and Floran simply stood there, amazed.
"It looks like there's more going on then just cold dreams," Floran said.

To be continued.