Emily and the Barbarian

Emily woke with a start, realizing she'd dozed off while laying in the basin of blessed water. Strangely, she felt none of the ill effects of sleeping in a bathtub. There was no crick in her neck, and her fingers and toes were less pruney than she would have expected. Instead, she felt lighter and better rested than she had in days, the deep aches from her ordeals on the Azure Coast finally soothed. And she was entirely cleansed of Azure Essence, her skin soft and pink all over.

On a table near her right elbow, several crystalline flasks glowed blue with shifting Azure Essence. The stuff had separated from the blessed water like oil, allowing Talyndra and Aria to siphon it off.

"You're looking less blue today, ma'am," Talyndra said, winking as she handed Emily a towel. "Ahead of schedule, too."

Taking the towel in one hand, Emily climbed out of the basin, dripping blessed water on the stone floor of the chamber. This time, the towel stayed put when she wrapped herself in it. "I'm feeling much less blue as well," she said. "Two ingredients down, one to go."

"I've been reading up about our destination," said Aria, beckoning Emily and Talyndra to a table over which she'd spread out a large map. Her stone finger traced a path across desolate-looking terrain. "Eyri Abbey. It's nestled in the foothills of the Ashfang Mountains, which mark the start of the Cinder Wastes." Aria's finger continued across the map, stopping on a dramatic image of an erupting volcano. "The Crucible is here."

"The Crucible..." Emily murmured. "That's where the Heartflame is. Just inside a volcano, no big deal."

"I'm heartened by your confidence," Aria said brightly, missing the sarcasm. "I have been feeling guilty of late, standing around in this abbey and poring over books and scrolls while everyone else is risking their lives on my account. Accompanying you to the Crucible will allay some of that guilt."

"Oh Aria," Emily said sympathetically. "Please don't think like that. You've helped me more than you can know already."

Aria smiled sadly. "I am already forever in your debt. And once the ritual is complete and I am restored to flesh, I will literally owe you my life."

"Just give me that gown you promised and we'll call it even."

"Consider it done." Aria's melodic laughter filled the chamber, lifting everyone's moods. "We should depart for Eyri Abbey as soon as you are ready."

Emily glanced around the room, then shrugged. "I'm feeling pretty well rested. I could go now, honestly. Are you ready?"

"This stone form has no need for respite, so I remain eternally ready," Aria replied.

"Well, it's not like I need to get dressed or anything," Emily said, forcing a hollow chuckle. "My magic feels fully charged, I guess. Not like there's a battery indicator that I can check, but that's the vibe I'm feeling."

Aria and Talyndra exchanged confused glances.

"Let's go then, no time to waste," Emily said, undoing her towel as she strode towards Aria. "No point in burning this up. Talyndra, catch!"

The coarse towel sailed across the room, landing directly over Talyndra's face. "Oomph!"

"Sorry!" Emily said, already standing on tiptoes to get an arm around Aria's shoulders. With one last glance at Aria's kind stone eyes, she took a deep breath and called, "Eyri Abbey!"

The world went up in flames, and Emily felt the familiar yank of teleportation. Everything was lurching, spinning disorientation for a moment, and then she was somewhere else, the smell of ash in her nostrils.

Emily staggered out of a fireplace, head spinning as she stepped down onto a plush rug. She was in a small, comfortable room, containing several soft chairs and low tables, its walls decorated with red and orange tapestries depicting mountains and flames. Behind her, the Stoneshell fire crackled invitingly. To one side, neatly folded on a wooden bench, lay a set of practical clothes: trousers, tunic, cloak, thick socks and boots. They looked about her size.

Relief washed over her--this was exactly the kind of reception she'd hoped for at the other two abbeys. Instead, she'd arrived in an abandoned ruin and then on top of a windy cliff. There was only one problem.

She was alone.

The space where Aria should have been standing, right next to her, was empty. Emily spun around, heart pounding, frantically scanning the room. "Aria? Aria!"

Silence. The Stoneshell fire crackled merrily on its hearth nearby, indifferent to her panic.

It hadn't worked, though she'd held onto Aria just as she had held onto Talyndra and Dorian before. Aria just hadn't come. Had Emily held onto her properly? Of course she had! The cool, slightly rouch feeling of Aria's stone surface lingered on her skin. But the fact remained that Aria wasn't here and Emily was.

Emily chastised herself from never testing teleportation with Aria before, for just assuming that it would work like it did with anyone else. She knew better now. Whether it was because Aria was a stone statue, or because Aria was cursed, teleportation had not worked on her, could not work on her.

Tears pricked Emily's eyes, the Stoneshell feeling like a lead weight on her neck. It had made Emily powerful beyond measure, but not beyond limitations. There were some things it just couldn't do.

There was a knock at the door, polite but firm. A high and reedy but clearly male voice spoke, "Hello, Stoneshell Bearer! Can I come in?"

Emily almost answered that he could, but quickly realized that she hadn't yet gotten dressed. She'd had no choice about exposing herself to the monks of Tiedavon, but there was no reason to do the same thing here, with an outfit carefully laid out for her. Blushing slightly and grabbing the trousers from the bench, she said, "Just a moment!"

Emily was dressed in seconds flat. The clothes were comfortable and all fit reasonably well, clearly prepared for a traveler of roughly her size. As she finished lacing up her boots, she told the person at the door that it was now okay to enter.

The door opened, revealing a man who seemed all sharp angles, but for the very round dome of his bald head. He was tall and wiry, with long-fingered hands peeking out of the sleeves of a monk's robe of deep crimson. Though his head was so bald it shone under the room's soft light, he had magnificent, bushy orange beard. His gray eyes were intelligent and penetrating.

"Welcome to Eyri Abbey, Stoneshell Bearer," the man said, his tone calm and resonant. "I am Abbot Thelrin. Our scryers noted your imminent arrival. It is a great honor to host the heir of Evangeline." At this he bowed deeply. "I trust the clothes are suitable?"

"Th-thank you," Emily said, feeling a bit shy in the face of his deference. She wasn't used to such a warm welcome. "The clothes are perfect."

"Come," said Abbot Thelrin. "I will show you around our abbey."

Emily followed him out of the Stoneshell fire chamber and into a wide, quiet corridor. The Abbey was built from dark, reddish stone that seemed to absorb the light pouring in from high, arched windows. Intricate carvings depicting stylized flames, mountain peaks, and soaring birds adorned the walls. Monks in the same deep red robes moved with quiet purpose, occasionally offering Emily and the Abbot respectful nods. There was an air of focused study and disciplined order, vastly different from the whimsy and chaos of Gla, the tense hostility of Tiedavon, or even the gently bumbling, slight absent-minded air of Paja Abbey and its inhabitants.

"What," asked the Abbot, "if I may ask, brings you to our abbey?"

"I need to get Heartflame from the Crucible in the Cinder Wastes," Emily said. "It's for a magical ritual to be performed on the summer solstice, for the purpose of lifting the curse a mage called Arctulus placed on my friend Aria and the other inhabitants of Castle Elid, using the Stoneshell as a conduit."

Thelrin raised a bushy orange eyebrow. "The Crucible. We don't get many travelers going in that direction. It is a difficult and perilous journey."

"I... didn't mean to come alone," Emily replied, avoiding eye contact. "The Stoneshell's teleportation allows me to bring one companion. I left Paja Abbey with an arm firmly wrapped around my friend Aria, but arrived here alone."

"Undoubtedly a side effect of the curse," Thelrin said. "Forgive me, but it strikes me as quite rash of you not to test teleporting your friend before coming all this way."

"I'm kicking myself, believe me," Emily muttered. She thought about teleporting back to Paja and fetching Talyndra or Dorian. But three long-distance teleports in such a short space would certainly exhaust the Stoneshell's fire, and who knew how long it would take to recover? With the summer solstice approaching, there was no time to waste.

They continued through the hallway, approaching an archway shining with natural light. "Eyri Abbey has long served as a watchtower over the Cinder Wastes," Thelrin said, his voice echoing slightly. "And a bulwark against their spread."

They passed through the archway into a large redbrick courtyard, filled with red-robed monks rushing to and fro. There was a slight chill in the air, though the sun shone bright and strong overhead.

"The Wastes," Thelrin continued, his gaze turning to the dark shapes of mountains in the distance, "have undergone a great shift over these past few seasons. They have been beset by unnatural cold, impervious to the seasons, and even to the heat of the Crucible itself. Snow has replaced ash, and pools of boiling water have frozen into ice that burns the skin."

Emily frowned, pulling the collar of her cloak about her neck. "Snow? In the Cinder Wastes? Why?"

"That I cannot answer," Thelrin replied gravely. "Some of our order blame a shifts in the deep energies, while others say that elemental spirits have been disturbed. I suspect it is a magical imbalance, though I can only speculate as to the details. Whatever the cause, any traveler must be prepared for both freezing cold and scorching heat as they approach the volcano."

"How long will it take to get to the Crucible?"

"Three weeks of hard walking, at a conservative estimate."

Emily gasped, but before she could respond, a sudden, booming laugh erupted from around the corner of the L-shaped courtyard. Several monks nearby flinched almost imperceptibly, and one scribe carrying a precarious stack of scrolls visibly stiffened before hurrying on his way. Abbot Thelrin himself paused mid-stride for the briefest of moments, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features before his calm mask resettled.

Turning the corner, Emily spied the source of the noise: a powerfully built woman leaning against a pillar, vigorously polishing the already gleaming head of a massive axe. She wore minimal armor, a skimpy leather bikini accessorized by boots and gloves and a few straps, giving the chilly courtyard a full view of her formidable muscles and many small scars. A braid of ash blonde hair hung down her back.

She looked up as they approached, axe momentarily forgotten. "Thelrin, you old goat!" she boomed, her voice echoing under the stone arches. "Just the man I was looking for! Was wondering when you monks would rustle up some proper grub around here. Polishing Grognak works up an appetite!" She patted the axe affectionately.

Her flashing green eyes then landed on Emily, sizing her up. "Well now, who's this? A new recruit? She looks like one of your sort." She grinned. "But there's something else. An edge. You don't look like much, missy, but something makes me feel like I'd hesitate on meeting you in dark alley. Not for long, mind." Her gaze lingered on Emily's face, then dropped to the Stoneshell pendant visible at the neck of her tunic.

Emily felt a prickle of annoyance at this strange woman's snap judgement of her.

Abbot Thelrin cleared his throat gently. "Emily Stoneshell Bearer, recently arrived," he introduced smoothly. "Emily, may I present Sigrid Wyrmtamer, of the Frostfang Clan. A... temporary guest in our abbey."

Sigrid's grin widened at the introduction, her eyes glinting with new interest. "So that's your edge! Chosen by an artifact!" She took Emily's hand in her powerful, callous grip and pumped it up and down violently. "Well-met, Emilia Shellbearstoner!"

Emily winced inwardly. "It's Emily," she corrected, flexing her hand to check that all its bones were still intact.

Thelrin stroked his orange beard, a thoughtful expression on his face, his eyes darting rapidly between Emily and Sigrid. "Hmm. Interesting," he murmured, as if struck by a sudden thought. "It would seem that you both seek the Crucible."

"I'm lookin' for a volcano dragon, buddy," Sigrid said, returning to her axe. "A big petrified one! With a treasure hoard!"

Thelrin made a face. "Yes, the Crucible volcano, which rumors claim to be the final resting place of an enormous and very ancient dragon turned to stone. The Cinder Wastes are a dangerous place under normal circumstances, but since the arrival of the frosts, that danger has increased tenfold. It is not a journey I would recommend anyone make alone."

A queasy feeling was forming in Emily's stomach. She saw where this was going. But without Aria or anyone else, did she have another choice?

Thelrin allowed the implication to hang in the air for a moment before spelling it out. "Perhaps a temporary alliance would be mutually beneficial? Strength and magic, complementing each other against the Wastes' dangers?"

Sigrid looked Emily up and down again, then shrugged. "Makes sense, I guess. Need someone to keep the riff-raff off while you do your magic thing, girlie?"

Emily met Sigrid's challenging gaze. The woman was loud, probably reckless, and very impractically dressed. Not that Emily was in any position to judge others on that last score. But the Abbot was right--she couldn't risk the journey alone. And returning to Paja for a more familiar companion was also out of the question. Sigrid was heading the same way and seemed like she'd be handy in a fight. What more could Emily really ask for? It wasn't as if she had a queue of experienced Cinder Wastes guides lining up to escort her.

"Something like that," Emily said at last. "I need to get to the Crucible. There's something there I need for a magical ritual. The Heartflame, it's called."

"Good enough for me!" Sigrid declared. "We split any treasure fifty-fifty, yeah?"

Emily hesitated. Treasure wasn't her goal. "Fine. As long as getting the Heartflame is the priority."

Sigrid shrugged agreeably. "When do we leave?"

"As soon as possible," Emily said firmly.

A faint smile touched Abbot Thelrin's lips. "Excellent. If you will both follow me to the east gate stores, we shall see you provisioned for your journey." As he beckoned them along, Emily noticed a lightness in his step that hadn't been there before. "Sigrid has her own supplies, I believe," he said.

"Got everything I need right here," Sigrid patted the giant axe that she had finally deemed to be sufficiently polished and strapped to her back. "And this," she tapped her temple with a knuckle, "and this," she flexed a bicep.

Thelrin led them out of the courtyard and into a small storeroom, where he set about gathering dried rations, waterskins and warm clothing, placing them in a large, weathered pack. "Oh my, we're fresh out of fire-starters," he said, frowning at an empty section of shelving.

"That won't be a problem," Emily said, summoning a flame in her palm.

Thelrin put a hand over his face. "Of course. What a silly thing that was to say to the Stoneshell Bearer!"

"Nice trick," Sigrid said, the fire dancing in her green eyes. "More than just a pretty face."

Once Thelrin deemed the pack sufficiently kitted out, Emily shouldered it, thanking him. It was a little heavier than she had expected.

"Those rations should last the whole three-week journey."

The color drained from Emily's face. "Three weeks?! The summer solstice is in eleven days!"

Sigrid laughed heartily. "Then we'll have to hoof it! Fear not, Bearstone Amelia, for Sigrid Wyrmtamer is as swift as the north wind! We'll be gathering dragon treasure before you even have time to get cold!" She dug in the pack and grabbed a fistful of dried meat, which she immediately shoved in her mouth and started loudly chewing.

"You may be able to beat my estimate," Thelrin said dryly. "The path to the Crucible is ever-shifting. Sometimes it is winding, other times direct. I will petition the gods for an intercession to hasten your passage."

"Thank you," Emily said, bowing slightly.

"The path into the Wastes begins just beyond the eastern gate," Thelrin instructed, walking them towards the door. "The Cinder Wastes begin at the foot of this hill. The Crucible is large enough to see from most of the Wastes. When in doubt, head toward the giant snowless mountain. There are many ways into the Crucible, once you reach it, but I cannot say what awaits you in within its depths. I would recommend caution." He glanced pointedly at Sigrid, who didn't appear to be listening.

With a final nod of thanks to Abbot Theron, Emily and Sigrid stepped out of the quietude of Eyri Abbey and through the eastern gate. The air immediately felt different--thin, sharp, and with a biting edge despite the clear sky overhead. Before them stretched a path down a slightly sloping hill. At the top of the hill, where they stood, summer was in bloom. At the bottom, the ground was coated in snow.

Sigrid took the lead, cheerfully marching down the hill with Emily almost having to jog to keep up with her large strides. As they descended, the air grew colder and the wind stronger. Emily fastened her cloak around herself, and was soon digging through her pack for a pair of gloves.

The bottom of Sigrid's leather bikini was high-cut, exposing most of her buttocks. "How are you not freezing?" Emily asked, still struggling to keep up with her.

"Cold just makes the blood pump faster," Sigrid declared cheerfully. "We Frostfangs thrive on it." She cast a glance over her shoulder at a thoroughly wrapped up Emily with only her face exposed. "You might want to give it a try. All that padding is no good for agility, Shelmily. You'll tire faster than a cold-hare in springtime!"

A thousand possible responses flashed through Emily's mind, but she offered none of them. She had certainly given 'it' a try, more than Sigrid had, in fact, and had had just about enough of it. But Sigrid didn't know that. Sigrid, unlike so many people she'd met in Thessolan, had no idea what Emily looked like naked. She intended to keep it that way. Let Sigrid be the one showing skin for this leg of the journey if she liked it so much. It would be a welcome change.

"I think I'll avoid frostbite for the moment," Emily said at last.

"Psshaw!" Sigrid waved a hand dismissively, even as her own breath plumed white. "Just keep moving and it's no problem."

So this was the Cinder Wastes. Emily had expected plains of blackened earth and smoking fissures, not a tundra. Twisted, skeletal trees, devoid of leaves and coated in frost, dotted the landscape. The wind that whipped around them, stinging Emily's exposed cheeks with ice crystals. If they also stung Sigrid's exposed cheeks, she didn't show it.

Far in the distance, barely visible through the haze, a single, dark volcanic peak rose against the pale sky. The Crucible looked both foreboding and impossibly remote.

"I really wasn't expecting snow this close to the summer solstice," Emily breathed, pulling the collar of her cloak tighter.

Sigrid sniffed the air, still totally unfazed by the cold. "It smells like winter back home, only... thinner. Dead, somehow."

"Ominous."

The crunch of snow underfoot was the only constant sound as they trekked deeper into the Wastes. Emily pulled her cloak tighter, burying her chin in the thick fabric, her breath pluming white in the unnaturally frigid air. Ahead, Sigrid marched with relentless energy, her bare arms and legs seemingly impervious to the biting wind, the massive axe on her back glinting dully under the pale sun. The dark peak of the Crucible seemed no closer than when they'd started.

"Can we maybe slow down for a minute?" Emily puffed, her legs burning from having to keep pace with Sigrid's long strides on the constant uphill, while carrying a pack that seemed to become heavier with each step.

Sigrid glanced back, not breaking her stride. "We have to keep moving, Shellbear, it keeps the blood warm. Were you not in a hurry? Solstice waits for no one, right? Why not use some of that fancy magic to pick up the pace?"

"It's Emily," she corrected through gritted teeth, ignoring the jibe about her magic. "And yes, I'm in a hurry, but running ourselves ragged won't help if we're too exhausted to face whatever's at the volcano. Or if we stumble into trouble because we're not paying attention."

Sigrid snorted, kicking a drift of snow aside. "Trouble? Bah! Let it come. Grognak here"--she patted her axe--"is always hungry for trouble. Best way to deal with it is head-on, fast and decisive! None of this careful tiptoeing nonsense." She paused, turning fully to face Emily, her grin fading slightly. "That's how we do it out here in the wild. Not something the monks teach in magic school."

Emily stopped, planting her feet in the snow. "I've learned plenty about handling things 'in the wild,' thank you very much. And not from the magic school you're imagining either. I just prefer not to rush blindly into danger if I don't have to!

Sigrid held her gaze for a moment, her face unreadable. Then she shrugged, turning back to the path. "Try not to slow me down too much." She resumed her relentless pace.

Emily let out a frustrated sigh, then hurried to catch up. This was going to be a long journey.

They came to a place where the ground sloped downwards towards a frozen stream. The ice looked thick, but was spotted with strange dark patches that made a faint sizzling noise.

"Careful," Emily warned. "The Abbot said some ice here burns. Maybe we should go around?"

"Waste of time!" Sigrid scoffed. With a booming laugh, she took a running start and leaped onto the ice, landing solidly with one fist down. Then she straightened up, pushed off one foot like a skater and glided straight to the other side, jumping back onto the snow. "See? Perfectly fine! Quit your worrying, Em-i-ly!"

Emily hesitated, then cautiously stepped onto the ice near the edge, avoiding the dark patches. Prodding the ice ahead with her booted foot, she took another tentative step, bending deeply into her ankles to avoid slipping.

"Hurry up!" Sigrid called impatiently from the far bank, already starting up the next slope. "Sun's moving! Can't spend all day tiptoeing across a puddle!"

Frustrated, Emily picked up her pace, hurrying across the ice, almost slipping a few times. She was still careful to avoid the sizzling black patches.

Reaching the other side of the stream, Emily scrambled up the slope, her lungs burning not just from exertion but the biting air. She saw Sigrid examining her hand. A small patch on her leather glove was smoking, and she peeled it back to reveal an angry red burn on her palm.

"See?" Emily said, breathless but feeling more than a little smug. "I told you. That ice is dangerous."

Sigrid glared first at her hand, then back at the ice, then finally at Emily, her eyes narrowed. "Just a wee burn," she growled, flexing her fingers before stomping further up the hill. "Don't need your lectures." She stomped further up the hill, increasing her pace.

Emily sighed, rubbing her temples. This alliance was going to be challenging. Sigrid's boundless energy and confidence were admirable, but she was extremely reckless and bristled at the slightest criticism.

That first day set the pattern. They walked until the pale sun dipped low, casting long, distorted shadows from the obsidian shards that increasingly littered the landscape. Sigrid pushed relentlessly onward while Emily, burdened by the pack and less accustomed to the bitter cold despite her layers, struggled to keep pace.

Their first camp was little more than a hollow scooped out behind a large obsidian boulder, offering shelter from the wind. Emily used the Stoneshell to start a meager fire with a branch broken off a dead tree, while Sigrid vanished briefly into the twilight gloom, returning empty-handed. "Nothin' worth huntin' this close to the Abbey," she muttered, chewing grimly on a strip of dried meat from Emily's pack. "Skinny ice lizards and not much else. More energy to kill and prepare than they'd give you."

They ate in near silence, the only sounds the crackling fire and the mournful howl of the wind carrying across the desolate plains. Emily tried asking Sigrid more about the Frostfang Clan, receiving mostly clipped answers about harsh winters, proving strength through trials, and the sacred bond with one's chosen weapon.

Sigrid, in turn, asked nothing about Emily beyond a gruff, "So this Heartflame thing... what's it look like?" When Emily responded that she wasn't sure, Sigrid laughed. "Thought they taught you about those kinds of things at magic school."

Sleep in the cold was fitful and brief, with Emily and Sigrid wrapping themselves tightly in all the clothes and blankets from Emily's pack, and Emily waking periodically to juice the dwindling fire.

The second day dawned pale and colder still. The landscape grew more alien, with jagged fields of glassy obsidian, sharp enough to shred boot leather if one wasn't careful, pushed through the thickening snowdrifts. The wind felt sharper, forcing Emily to squint and pull her hood lower. The silence, too, felt unnatural--no birds, no animals, just the wind, alternately sighing or howling.

Sigrid forged ahead, her earlier recklessness tempered slightly. Later, they found tracks in the snow--small, sharp, two-legged prints that vanished abruptly near a field of steaming fissures they'd paused at for warmth.

"Frost sprites," Sigrid grunted, examining the tracks, her hand gripping the handle of her axe. "Or somethin' similar. Stay sharp, Firestone. They like to ambush their prey."

They gave the tracks a wide berth.

That night, they found slightly better shelter beneath a leaning rock overhang, shielded from the driving snow. Emily managed a larger fire, and they huddled close, sharing another meager meal of dried rations. The pack felt noticeably lighter.

"Tomorrow," Sigrid said, staring into the flames, "we push hard. The ridge ahead looks taller. Might get above some of this cursed wind."

By the morning of the third day, the constant uphill climb and biting wind had taken a toll. Emily felt weary to her bones, the initial strangeness of the Wastes settling into a draining monotony broken only by moments of sharp anxiety. Even Sigrid seemed less boisterous, her movements still powerful but lacking the earlier explosive energy. She had even donned a fur cape from Emily's pack over her skimpy leather armor, much to Emily's smug satisfaction.

Halfway up the steep ridge, Sigrid paused near a cluster of shards taller than herself, peering into the swirling snow ahead, her hand resting instinctively on the haft of Grognak. "We're not alone," she muttered, her voice low and serious.

Emily caught up, peering around the obsidian pillar, her breath catching in her throat. The snow ahead looked undisturbed, but she felt it too, a prickling sensation on her skin, the same feeling she got just before a static shock, amplified tenfold. The air seemed to crackle with invisible energy.

Suddenly, the snowdrifts erupted with jagged figures made of frost and ice, small and vaguely humanoid. They moved with unsettling speed on skittering legs, their faceted bodies catching the pale light. Dozens of them, maybe more, emerged from behind obsidian outcroppings, making high-pitched, chittering cries that grated against Emily's ears.

"Frost sprites!" Sigrid roared, pulling the axe from her back in a smooth, practiced motion.

Before Emily could even summon a proper fireball, the frost sprites attacked, flinging shards of ice from their own bodies. Where the shards struck rock or obsidian, they left patches of rapidly spreading, sizzling frost.

"Watch out!" Emily yelled, throwing up a wall of fire between herself and the nearest wave of sprites. The intense heat vaporized the incoming ice shards with hisses of steam, but the sprites continued their advance.

Sigrid met the charge head-on with a bellowing war cry. Her axe was a blur of motion, shattering sprites and sending shards of burning ice in every direction. Its hilt glowed with previously unseen runes.

"Try not to hit me!" Emily shouted, dropping her pack so that she could more easily dodge flying ice shards. She lauched targeted fireballs at the sprites swarming Sigrid's flanks, instantly melting the smaller ones. More kept arriving. They were unnervingly fast, darting between Sigrid's wide swings.

"Just keep burnin' 'em, fire girl!" Sigrid grunted, cleaving three sprites in half with a single downward chop.

They fought back-to-back, Emily providing fiery crowd control while Sigrid was whirlwind of destruction at the center. But the sprites were relentless, their numbers seemingly endless as more emerged from the snowy ground. Several ice shards struck Sigrid's bare arms and legs, leaving frost burns that made her hiss in pain but only fueled her fury. Emily felt a cold burn against her cheek as a shard zipped past her defenses.

"There's too many!" Emily cried, blasting another cluster. "We need to fall back! Find a more defensible position!"

"Frostfangs don't retreat from jittering ice shards!" Sigrid roared, even as she was forced backwards. They were nearing the edge of the rise they'd climbed, the ground dropping away sharply behind them into unseen depths masked by swirling snow.

A particularly large sprite, almost waist-high, lunged at Sigrid. She met it with a savage upward swing of her axe, sending icy fragments flying. The force of the blow, however, took her right to the crumbling edge of the snow-covered precipice. At the same moment, a concentrated volley of burning ice shards slammed into the ground near Emily's feet, the intense cold fracturing the already unstable obsidian hidden beneath the snow crust.

With a sickening crack that echoed louder than the wind and the chittering sprites, the ground beneath both women gave way.

Emily gasped as the world dropped out from under her, plunging her into sudden, freezing darkness along with Sigrid and a cascade of snow, ice, and shattered rock. The chittering cries of the frost sprites faded above them.

Instinct took over. Mid-fall, Emily twisted, reaching out blindly in the darkness. Her fingers brushed against something solid and moving. It was Sigrid's arm. She clamped down with all her strength.

"Gotcha!" she yelled, though the wind stole the word.

Ignoring the vertigo and the terrifying proximity of unseen rock walls rushing past, Emily focused desperately on the Stoneshell. Fire! Up!

A blast of heat erupted from the soles of her boots and the palms of her free hand. The sudden deceleration was violent, jarring her teeth and wrenching her shoulder where she held onto Sigrid. The smell of burning leather from her boots and glove filled her nostrils.

But their frantic downward plummet slowed, then stopped with a gut-wrenching lurch, leaving them dangling perhaps fifty feet down in a deep, narrow ravine, suspended solely by the jets of fire roaring from Emily's extremities.

Below them was darkness. Above, a jagged gash of pale sky. Ice coated the sheer rock walls around them.

"By the Frostfather's icy teeth!" Sigrid gasped, dangling heavily from Emily's grip. Her usual bravado was momentarily replaced by wide-eyed shock. "You've got some firepower!"

Emily grunted, straining with the effort of holding up both their weights. The flames flickered. They weren't rising. If anything, they were slowly, almost imperceptibly, sinking. "Can't... lift... both of us... out! Too... heavy!"

Sigrid craned her neck, looking up at the distant rim, then down into the darkness. Panic began to creep into her eyes. "We're stuck?"

"No!" Emily scanned the ravine walls frantically. The rock was sheer, icy, offering no handholds. But across the chasm, maybe forty feet away and slightly higher up, a gnarled dead tree hung from the side of the cliff, just above a narrow ledge. A desperate, risky idea sparked in her mind.

"Hold tight!" Emily yelled over the roar of her own fire jets. "I'm going to light that tree... then jump!"

"Jump? Are you mad?!" Sigrid shouted back.

"Trust me!" Emily didn't have time to explain or to argue. Her heart pounded as she twisted the hand not gripping Sigrid's arm, turning the jet of fire towards the tree. They started falling faster, and Emily poured more power into the jets at her feet, while taking careful aim with her free hand. Remembering Aria's lessons, she compensated for the wind whistling down the ravine and the slight tremble in her own hovering form. She released the jet of fire, turning it into a massive, roaring fireball.

It streaked across the gap, a small orange comet against the grey rock. It struck the dead tree squarely. For a heart-stopping second, nothing happened. Then, a tiny lick of flame appeared, caught hold on the dry, brittle wood, and erupted upwards with astonishing speed. The dead tree became a roaring torch in moments.

Focusing on the burgeoning blaze across the ravine, pouring every ounce of her will into the Stoneshell, Emily shouted their destination. "Tree!"

The world vanished in a simultaneous blast of heat from below and the lurching pull of teleportation. In that searing instant, Emily felt the familiar, aggressive heat of teleportation consuming fabric--her own tunic, trousers, cloak, and gloves igniting and disintegrating, along with Sigrid's minimal costume.

They crashed hard onto the narrow, rocky ledge. Emily landed awkwardly, tumbling over Sigrid, the breath knocked out of her. Smoke and intense heat from the furiously burning tree washed over them, strangely combined with the biting cold wind whistling down the ravine. Loose stones skittered over the edge into the abyss below.

Emily coughed, smoke stinging her lungs, pushing herself up on trembling arms. Her skin felt tight, hot from the teleportation and the nearby blaze, yet simultaneously prickled with goosebumps from the frigid air assaulting her bare body. They were alive. They were out of the main fall, perched precariously on a ledge on the opposite side of the ravine from where they'd fallen. The burning tree cast flickering, dancing shadows on the rock face and their utterly exposed forms.

Sigrid pushed herself up beside Emily, gasping, her eyes wide. After taking a moment to steady herself, she stared at the blazing tree, then back across the dark chasm, then finally down at herself, her expression shifting from shock to utter horror.

"My... my armor! Grognak!" she gasped. She relaxed slightly upon noticing that the massive and clearly enchanted axe was still clutched in her right hand, unharmed. But everything else was gone, leaving only faint soot marks on her bronzed skin. "It's all gone! I'm naked!"

Emily blinked, startled by the sheer panic in her voice. Sigrid looked genuinely distraught, scrambling to cover her chest and pelvis with her arms and axe, her usual booming confidence completely evaporated. It was a little ridiculous, Emily thought, given how little she'd been wearing before.

"You... you jumped us... to a fire?" Sigrid stammered, her voice tight with distress, her eyes darting between Emily, her own nakedness, and the blazing tree. "And it... it burned... our clothes?!"

Emily just nodded, still too breathless and shaken to offer much comfort. She couldn't help a fleeting, slightly ironic thought about their earlier conversation regarding keeping warm. Apparently, Sigrid did mind the exposure. A whole lot.

The reality of their situation crashed down on Emily again. They were alive, yes. But they were trapped partway down an icy ravine, completely naked and exposed to the biting wind on a narrow, crumbling ledge, with no easy way up or down. Squinting and pressing her thighs together against the cold, she scanned the sheer, outward sloping rock face above them, dreading the thought of another climb.

Sigrid hopped up and down, the snow clearly biting at her bare feet. A crimson blush spread across her shoulders, and her braid swung behind her like a frozen whip. "Are you... used to this?!" she spat, glaring at Emily.

Emily glanced down from the cliffs and sighed, hugging her arms across her chest. "Unfortunately, yes. One of the hazards of fire magic. But you said the cold gets the blood flowing, didn't you?" She smiled, despite herself. "Are you... embarrassed? Cold, perhaps?"

Sigrid's face reddened. "I'm stood naked on a frozen cliffside! Of course I'm bloody embarrassed and freezing cold!"

Emily frowned. "But your armor... it barely covered anything! You were swaggering around with your whole butt on show!" She gasped at the sudden sting of an icy draft against her own recently bared buttocks.

"That's different," Sigrid retorted. "My armor is a badge of honor, a mark of strength. It is woven with the history of my people and scarred with my own trials. Every cut, every gap, a mark of resilience. And it's g-gone... because of your magic!"

"I don't see how any of that would make you any warmer!" Emily snapped. A wave of anger passed over her. "Sorry for saving your ungrateful behind! Next time I'll let you fall into the ravine with your precious armor!"

"'Twould be better than slowly freezing to death on the cliffside! Now who's rushing into danger?!"

"I didn't hear you coming up with a better solution!"

They glared at each other across the narrow ledge, their anger almost intense enough to warm them. Almost, but not quite. The wind continued to whip around them, nipping at their bare skin, quite indifferent to their argument.

"Enough!" Emily said finally. Her teeth chattered, and she summoned flames to her hands to warm the ledge. "We're naked. We're freezing. We're stuck. We can argue about whose fault it is when we're not in danger of freezing to death! Right now, we have to get out of here and find some shelter!"

Sigrid stared at her for another tense moment, her chest heaving. Then, slowly, her expression shifted. The raw panic and anger receded, replaced by grim practicality, though a stubborn resentment lingered in her eyes. "Aye," she said, her voice rough. "You're right." She lowered Grognak slightly, though still held it protectively across her chest. "How far can you do that fire jump?"

"Pretty far," Emily said, relieved to end the argument. "It's how I got to Eyri Abbey. The main thing is having a Stoneshell fire to teleport to."

Sigrid looked up, studying the same icy walls that Emily had been examining a moment earlier. Then, smiling slightly, she removed the hand from her crotch, revealing a patch of curly blonde hair. Gripping her axe in both hands, she pulled it over her head and swung. An unburned branch of the dead tree fell at her feet. "I have an idea."

"I'm all ears," Emily said, hopping up and down and moving side to side, waving her hands in circles so that the summoned fire streaked through the air. As long as she kept moving, she could stay warm.

"Grognak's an enchanted axe," Sigrid began. "Must be why your fire didn't burn 'im. Anyway, he always flies true. Part of the enchantment. If you can light this branch, I'll attach it to Grognak and chuck 'im at that ledge up there"--here she pointed at a ledge some twenty feet above them--"and then you can jump us there. We do that a couple times and we're out of here."

Emily liked the idea a lot better than trying to scale another cliff-face, this time in the freezing cold and with Sigrid to worry about. Which is to say, she didn't completely hate the idea. "Are you sure you can throw that far?" she asked, eyeing the ledge.

Sigrid looked offended. "D'ya really think I would offer to toss me axe into a ravine? You've got that ugly necklace that does all this fire magic, and you know its abilities. I've got Grognak. Same deal. We trust our tools."

It was worth a shot. Emily gave the nod, and Sigrid unwound a leather strap around the axe's handle and used it to bind the length of dead wood to the axe. As she tightened the leather, she muttered something unintelligible in a gutteral tone that made the axe's runes glow with yellow light. As she did this, the leather audibly tightened around the branch.

"Ready," said Sigrid. "Light 'im up, Emily."

A fireball slammed into the end of the branch and a new fire was born. Laughing confidently, Sigrid picked up the axe by its handle, careful to angle the burning end of the branch away from her head. She recited another incantation, pulled her arm back, and threw.

Grognak sailed through the air, the Stoneshell fire blazing behind it like a comet's tail. With a sharp thud, the head of the axe connected with the cliff face just behind the upper ledge, enchanted metal sinking into stone and holding fast.

"It worked!" Emily gasped.

"Grognak flies true," Sigrid replied. "Now let's jump." She held out a cold arm for Emily to take.

For an instant, Emily and Sigrid were warmed by the fire of teleportation enveloping them. The world lurched and they found themselves on the higher ledge, suspended in the air for a moment before dropping face-first into the snow.

"Aah! Cold!" Sigrid shouted, leaping up and rubbing her hands vigorously across her goosebumped arms, flecks of snow sticking to her hair, eyebrows and skin. She helped Emily up, and the two women hugged, almost involuntarily, just for the body heat of the other. Emily felt Sigrid's calloused hand rub up and down her back, and she did the same for the Sigrid, their differences forgotten, at least for the moment.

"G-got it!" Sigrid stammered, teeth chattering, as she strained to pull her axe from the cliff-face. "S-stoke the f-fire."

Emily applied a second blast of Stoneshell fire to the dead branch tied to the axe's shaft, which had been in danger of going out. Sigrid held the axe and branch at arm's length, torn between wanting the fire's warmth and not wanting to burn herself.

"I can take us up to the top with the next throw," Sigrid said, squinting against the wind as she looked up.

"F-fantastic," Emily replied. She could feel her lips turning blue. "P-please hurry."

Sigrid disengaged from the hug and stepped away from Emily, readying herself for the throw. Gritting her teeth against the increased cold and hopping up and down to keep warm, Emily offered a silent prayer that Sigrid's axe would once again fly true.

"Get us outta here, Grognak," Sigrid said solemnly, as she pulled her arm back.

The axe sailed through the air, heading for the top of the cliff. But as Sigrid and Emily watched, a strong wind picked up just above the cliff, knocking the axe slightly off course as it began to dip. It was falling straight into the ravine.

"Grognak!" Sigrid screamed.

Emily did the only thing she could. Taking two steps back and pulling her own arm back, she mouthed another silent prayer and then, with all her might, lobbed a fireball right at the axe.

The fireball streaked through the air like a comet. Emily had thrown it so hard, that she lost balance and tipped over forward, landing head-first in a pile of snow. All was cold and white.

"Yes!" shouted Sigrid. "Yes!"

Emily gasped for breath as she was pulled forcefully to her feet. After nearly yanking her shoulder out of its socket, an excited Sigrid wrapped her in a bone-crunching hug, motioning excitedly with her head at a point in top of the ravine from which a languid plume of smoke slowly rose.

"G-grognak," Emily said, and the world was engulfed in flame.

Emily and Sigrid collapsed at the edge of the ravine, shocked by the intense cold after the teleportation's heat. As they pushed up from the freezing ground, a powerful wind bit into their skin, and extinguished the Stoneshell fire burning on the axe.

Watching the smoke blow over the ravine, Emily remembered her teleportation from the collapsing Tiedavon dome, how she had materialized beyond the cliff and immediately begun to fall. She was grateful not to be repeating that experience in this freezing cold and with Sigrid in tow.

"We made it!" cried Sigrid, spitting out a mouthful of snow as she scrambled to her feet, already rubbing her arms and legs vigorously for warmth.

Helped up by Sigrid, Emily stood on shaking legs, shivering violently, her teeth chattering uncontrollably. The force of the wind was greater up here than it had been in the ravine, and it cut like a knife. The bits of snow and frost that clung to every sensitive part of Emily's body didn't help.

Sigrid pulled her axe from the ground and took it in her arms like a baby, cradling and rocking it. She tried to strap it to her back, but was quickly reminded of the absence of any straps and brought it back to her side, gripping it tighter between frozen fingers.

Flames flickered in Emily's palms, struggling against the wind. The heat felt pitiful against the overwhelming cold, barely enough to warm her hands, let alone her whole body. The effort of the rocket-powered flight followed by multiple teleports, all with a partner, had drained her.

Sigrid huddled closer, extending her own hands towards the small flames. "Good thinking." The former bravado was absent from her tone. "But this won't be enough. We need shelter."

They scanned the bleak landscape. Snow stretched in all directions, broken only by jagged obsidian outcrops and the skeletal shapes of frost-covered trees. The wind howled, driving icy particles against their exposed skin like tiny needles.

"Which way?" Emily asked, her voice thin against the wind.

Sigrid squinted, shielding her eyes with a hand, as she swept the horizon. "The volcano's that way," she said, pointing towards the dark peak on the horizon. "We should keep moving towards it. I'll look out for a cave."

Huddling close together, Emily's small flame between them, they trudged through the deep snow. Each step was an effort, their bare feet sinking deep into the freezing snow. Continuous movement was the only way to stay warm. Emily focused on keeping her fire going, trying to ignore the growing numbness in her extremities.

Sigrid, though also shivering, was truly resilient against the cold, and attempted to shield Emily from the worst of it. She broke trail through the deeper drifts, occasionally using Grognak's flat side to push snow aside, her eyes constantly scanning their surroundings.

"Th-there has to be somewhere we can hide," Sigrid said through gritted teeth. "J-just keep walking."

Emily poured more power into the fire in her hand, fighting against the wind. Her other arm pressed tight against Sigrid's cold back. What would happen if they didn't find shelter? Was this how it ended? Two frozen bodies, buried in the deep snow? No! She had to keep moving, even as the wind tore in her like a knife, even as the falling snow froze against her skin.

After what felt like an eternity of unbearable cold, but was probably less than half an hour, Sigrid stopped, pointing. "There!"

Nestled at the base of a sheer rock face, partially obscured by a curtain of wind-driven snow, was a narrow fissure, a dark opening, barely wider than a person's shoulders.

"C-cave?" Emily breathed.

"Or a den," Sigrid grunted. "Let's hope whatever lives there is s-smaller than us."

They struggled through the last few yards of deep snow, collapsing against the rock face beside the opening. The fissure led into darkness, but crucially, it offered immediate shelter from the howling wind. The air inside felt still, and marginally less frigid.

"I'll go first," Sigrid said, peering into the darkness and holding Grognak ahead of her. "Stay close behind me. And keep the fire going."

Emily nodded, summoning slightly larger flames. Sigrid ducked low and squeezed through the narrow opening, axe held ready. Emily followed right behind, crawling on her hands and knees through the tight entranceway. Her hips stuck momentarily, but came loose with some insistent wiggling, much to her relief.

The fissure opened up almost immediately into a small, dry cave, perhaps ten feet across and high enough for Emily to stand comfortably in the center and Sigrid to stoop only a little. The floor was relatively smooth rock, free of snow, and the air was blessedly still. It smelled earthy and slightly damp, but not unpleasant. There were no obvious signs of recent habitation, animal or otherwise.

"Safe," Sigrid declared, lowering Grognak, her voice echoing slightly in the enclosed space. Relief washed over her face, though she was still shivering violently.

Emily crawled the rest of the way in and sagged against the cave wall, utterly spent. The small flames in her hands sputtered and died as her concentration lapsed. The darkness that enveloped them was almost total.

"Fire," Emily whispered, her teeth chattering too hard to speak clearly. "N-need a real fire."

"Right." Sigrid felt around near the entrance. "Some dry brush caught in the opening." She gathered a small pile of twigs and desiccated roots that had blown into the fissure.

Emily winced at the draft from the now-cleared fissure. The Bronzeband was cold against her ankle, but warmed slightly as she channeled its power. With a low grinding sound that echoed in the cave, the rock around the entrance stretched inwards, narrowing the fissure until only a tiny crack remained, sealing them inside while still allowing a trickle of air.

"Not just a fire mage, then," Sigrid commented, letting out a low, appreciative whistle as she arranged the kindling.

Emily managed a weak smile and indicated her ankle. "That's from the Bronzeband. I won it in a duel. It lets me controls stone."

"A duel, eh? Against who?" Sigrid asked, arranging the kindling.

Emily hesitated, the memory of Richard's smirking face and horrific end still fresh. "A pirate. Long story."

"Bet it is," Sigrid grunted, not pressing.

Glancing wearily at the pile of twigs and roots, Emily coaxed a spark from her fingertip. The kindling caught quickly, and a small, cheerful fire sprang to life in the center of the cave, casting flickering orange light on the rock walls and the shivering bodies of the cave's two inhabitants.

Sigrid and Emily huddled together beside the growing flames, reaching out to take in the welcome heat as feeling slowly returned to their extremities. For a long time, the silence of the cave was broken only by the fire's crackle.

Sigrid finally broke the silence, her voice low and rough. "That teleport thing... does it always...?" She gestured vaguely at their shared lack of clothing.

Emily hugged her knees tighter, staring into the flames. "Yeah. It burns anything that's not either living flesh or an enchanted artifact. Clothes, most often... though my hair tie always seems to survive, weirdly."

Sigrid looked down her bare arms at the flickering fire. "Better naked and alive than armored and dead at the bottom of that ice pit." She patted Emily's shoulder. "That fire-flying... and the jumps... never seen anything like it. You proved yourself out there, and I owe you my life."

"I couldn't have done it without Grognak," Emily said, casting a glance at the axe laying beside Sigrid.

"You and me both," Sigrid chuckled, patting the axe's handle affectionately.

They sat for a while absorbing the heat from the fire, and watching shadows dance across the cave walls.

"So," Sigrid said eventually, tossing a stray twig into the fire. "We're stuck in a cave, naked as newborns, with no supplies to speak of."

Emily remembered her pack, and how she'd dropped it when the frost sprites attacked. It was on the other side of the ravine, buried in the snow--all the food, water and warm clothing Abbot Thelrin had given her was gone.

"Your fire magic," Sigrid said, turning immediately to practicalities. "How much can you do with it? How long does it last?"

"It depends," Emily replied, warming her palms over the flames. "I'm pretty good at summoning fires and throwing fireballs around. Lots of practice with that. I can also summon healing magic--green flames." An image of Richard's pink hands came unbidden to her mind. "Healing small cuts and burns doesn't take too much energy."

Emily's eyes came to rest on the sore-looking red patches on Sigrid's hands, prompting Sigrid to hide them behind her back, wincing as she did so. "Pay no mind to these scratches," she said, pulling her knees up to her chest defensively. "What else can your fire do?"

Emily hesitated briefly before continuing. Sigrid would accept her healing sooner or later. "The flashier stuff, like flying around, that's way more taxing," she said. "Teleportation, well, longer distances take more power, as does bringing someone else. But frequent short jumps also add up. I don't think I have any more of those in me for a while. It's probably for the best that I couldn't bring Aria along to Eyri, I don't think I would have had much of anything left after doing that."

"Aria?" asked Sigrid.

"A close friend," Emily replied. "We were supposed to travel to Eyri Abbey together, but it turns out I can't teleport statues."

Sigrid raised an eyebrow. "You're friends with a statue?"

"A living statue," Emily clarified. "She's... the whole reason I'm doing any of this. The Heartflame is the last ingredient I need for a ritual we're going to do to lift the statue curse and make her human again."

Sigrid nodded, chewing her bottom lip, watching the flames. "Right. Good thing I'm not a statue, then. But the main thing I'm getting here is that we can't teleport back to the Abbey."

"Not anytime soon," Emily confirmed. "Besides, we're already behind schedule. We'll never reach the Heartflame if we take detours."

"Aye. Got to lift that curse." Sigrid said. "But then, folks usually get cursed for a reason. Why's she cursed?"

"A mage named Arctulus did it," Emily explained, telling the condensed story of Castle Elid, Aria, and her discovery of the Stoneshell. "She and the other inhabitants have been statues for centuries. The ritual is their only chance to return to normal."

Sigrid nodded slowly, chewing her bottom lip, watching the flames. "Centuries. Hmm. Well, guess there are probably some advantages to being made of stone. Bet your friend can throw a mean punch."

Emily giggled. "Yeah, that's come in handy now and then."

"So," Sigrid said, her practical nature reasserting itself. "Your fire magic keeps us warm. That comes from your necklace. The anklet... you said it controls stone."

"Yes," Emily said, tapping her ankle. "I can move and shape stone, and other earth materials to a lesser degree--I used it on sand once, but it was really difficult."

"Useful," Sigrid grunted. "Grognak here," she patted the axe, "cuts through most things. Useful too." She eyed the small flames. "But none of our skills conjure food or clothing out of thin air, eh?"

Emily managed a weak smile and shook her head. She thought back to the fibrous leotard that she'd never been able to summon again after the first time. If the nightmoss was still sitting between the Bronzeband and her ankle, it had made itself really small, because she couldn't feel it. In any case, it seemed to have a mind of its own, coming and going as it pleased and responding to her troubles according to its own inscrutable whims.

Sigrid fell silent again, but her eyes were restless, scanning the cave walls, the sealed entrance, the fire. She seemed to be assessing possibilities, already shifting from surviving the immediate crisis to figuring out the next step.

"We should rest," Emily said, feeling the exhaustion finally catching up to her now that the adrenaline had faded and she was warm. The desire to just curl up and sleep was overwhelming.

"Aye," Sigrid agreed. "You sleep. I'll keep watch for a bit. Then you can take a turn if you're up to it."

The cave floor was hard, but compared to the freezing wind and crumbling ledge, it felt like a feather mattress. Emily huddled close to the fire, pulling her knees to her chest, and closed her eyes.

Sleep didn't come easily. Her mind was a jumble of recent events--tramping through freezing snow, desperate teleports, and the fight with the frost sprites. She was also still haunted by visions of Richard's horrifying end, the sight of his desiccated corpse surrounded by black tendrils. It was a good thing that the nightmoss seemed to be on her side.

Emily's dreams were full of shifting shadows and harshly whispering voices, alternating with well-lit scenes and soothing words. Something that shifted between a menacing shadow and an angelic figure promised her comfort and dignity, promised an end to her suffering, if only she would--it wasn't clear what. Her body was enveloped by a dress made of dark shadows, soft and luxurious against her skin, but somehow constricting. Eyes bored into the back of her head.

Emily woke with a gasp, her heart pounding. A cold dread gripped her, though the cave was warm and the fire still going strong. She blinked, trying to shake off the images from her nightmare, the feeling of something lurking just beyond her sight.

She must have drifted back to sleep, because the next time she woke, the fire was lower, and Sigrid was asleep, curled up across from her. Emily carefully replenished the fire, feeding it with more of the dry brush from the entrance.

She glanced at Sigrid's sleeping form, huddled in a posture that almost made her look small. Her muscled body was criss-crossed by scars, and her hands and forearms were still marked with red welts. Some of these, Emily realized, must have been caused by standing too close to the Stoneshell fire in the ravine. Sigrid had not once mentioned this.

Determined and a little guilty, Emily knelt down and summoned green flame to her palms. She passed the flame slowly over Sigrid's hands and wrists, the red patches shrinking and fading until they disappeared completely.

Emily had just finished her task when a thin sliver of pale light filtering through the sealed crack, announcing dawn. Sigrid bolted awake, stretching dramatically before she felt the air against her skin and her thighs snapped back to cover her torso. Emily stifled a giggle, feeling immense sympathy.

"Right," Sigrid said, her voice scratchy. "Time for breakfast." Sitting up as straight as she could while keeping herself mostly covered with her legs, she looked at Emily, a new determination sparking in her green eyes. "These Wastes might be cold, but they ain't empty. There's things living out there. Things with meat on their bones... and skins thick enough to keep the wind off."

Sigrid carefully pushed herself up to her feet, picked up her axe and walked in an awkward crouch towards the small crack that had been the cave entrance, motioning for Emily to expand it.

"You're going back out?" Emily asked, bewildered. "Like that? Alone?"

"One of us has to," she said, tapping the side of her stomach. "Like I said, meat and skins."

"Shouldn't I..." Emily began, not really wanting to complete the sentence.

"I hunt alone," said Sigrid. "Don't need any fireworks scaring the prey."

Emily's own stomach growled audibly. Admitting that Sigrid had a point while still considering her insane, she directed the Bronzeband's energies to the enlargement of the entrance.

"If I'm not back by noon, come after me," Sigrid said, her jaw tight against a shiver she refused to fully indulge. She slipped through the cave entrance, moving with a determined, if slightly rigid, stride back into the biting wind.

Hours later, Emily looked up from the fire to see Sigrid's grinning face appear in the entrance crack. She enlarged it instantly, and Sigrid stumbled in.

She was shivering violently and covered in snow, her lips blue and her skin almost translucent, looking utterly spent but triumphant. She carried two small, limp forms over her shoulder. They were furry creatures, somewhat like large hares, but with thick, white pelts. In her other hand, Grognak dripped crimson snow.

"Got lucky," Sigrid said, ducking back into the cave. "Cold-hares. Tough meat, but filling. And their pelts are warm and durable." Her voice was hoarse with cold and exertion. She dropped the bodies to one side and sighed heavily at the fire's touch, her skin dripping as the snow and ice melted from it. Emily could see some new cuts and grazes.

She watched with equal fascination and squeamishness as Sigrid efficiently skinned the creatures using Grognak's edge. The pelts were indeed thick and surprisingly large once removed. Sigrid carefully cleaned them with handfuls of snow brought from just outside the sealed entrance, stretching them taut near the fire to begin the drying process. The smell of raw meat and damp fur filled the cave.

"Meat'll need cooking," Sigrid said, starting to butcher the carcasses. "And the pelts will need curing and shaping. Takes time. But we won't starve or freeze." She held up one of the thick pelts, already looking warmer than anything Emily had lost in the teleportation.

Since she'd arrived in Thessolan, Emily had repeatedly greeted all-too-infrequent offers of clothing with immense gratitude. But after her naked jaunt through the snow, she decided that these pelts were the outfit she was happiest to see. "It looks wonderful, Sigrid!"

"Aye," Sigrid grunted, focused on her task. "Won't be nothing fancy, nothing like my armor." A flicker of sadness touched her eyes for a moment. "But it'll keep us warm."

Over the next day and a half, the small cave became a workshop. Emily kept the fire going while Sigrid carefully scraped and cleaned the pelts, rubbed them with handfuls of ash from the fire and some kind of greasy residue she found on the cave walls. It helped to soften and cure the hides, she said. She chewed at tougher parts with her strong teeth, her forehead furrowed in concentration. It was a slow, painstaking process, revealing another side to Sigrid.

They ate multiple meals of cold-hare meat roasted over the fire, tough but filling. The cave was filled with the smell of woodsmoke, curing hides, and roasted meat.

During the long hours of work, Sigrid spoke of the Frostfang Clan, their traditions of strength and survival in the frozen north and the importance of personal honor. She still seemed highly uncomfortable with their shared nudity, avoiding looking at herself or Emily.

Her armor had been an extension of herself, marked with the victories and trials that had shaped her, which she now recounted to Emily. To her surprise, the armor had originally been quite modest, but much of it had already been destroyed in previous battles. The display of scars from great victories was highly important to Frostfangs, and while Sigrid had repaired her armor occasionally, she never patched over the scars with the greatest stories. Emily was reminded of Caelum, and of the mermaids and their alkayi.

In turn, Emily spoke cautiously of her own world. She struggled to explain most of what she talked about--electricity, cars, and the internet were as fantastical and bizarre to Sigrid as they had been to Aria. Her adventures in Thessolan were a more successful topic, and she impressed Sigrid with the breadth of the places she'd been and people she'd met.

They talked about the Stoneshell and the Bronzeband. Sigrid asked detailed questions about how Emily's powers worked, showing a surprisingly analytical mind beneath her boisterous exterior. Though her axe was enchanted, its magic was far simpler.

Emily learned that the name Sigrid Wyrmtamer had been earned through a battle with and victory against a young, ice-breathing wyrm. Ever since then, Sigrid had traveled wild parts of Thessolan, seeking out dangerous creatures and often fighting them. This gave her a specific interest in the petrified dragon near the Crucible. "I've fought dragons, but never a stone dragon," she said. "Wasn't expecting much of a fight initially, to be honest with you. But the more you talk about your stone friends, the more I think this dragon might be more lively than the stories say."

For her part, Emily was hoping to avoid a fight. She had to admit, though, that Sigrid seemed like just the companion to have when one inevitably broke out.

On their third day in the cave, Sigrid finally deemed the pelts ready. Using strips of cured hide as thread, she roughly stitched together two sets of simple coverings, made up of tunics, skirts, and very rough approximations of thigh-high boots. The seams were crude and the fit approximate, but it was clothing.

"It's not much," Sigrid said, holding out a set for Emily. "I never was the furrier of the family. But it's better than nothing."

"It's wonderful, Sigrid," Emily said, hugging the warm fur to her skin.

Slipping the garments on, she realized that, while crude, Sigrid had still shaped them to her tastes. Either that, or there just wasn't that much pelt on the cold-hares. Both the top and bottom were abbreviated, meaning that Emily's midriff and thighs would have to withstand the biting winter cold. Fortunately, the long, fuzzy boots came up to her knees and Sigrid had also made fuzzy bracers for their forearms. And Sigrid's own outfit was even more attenuated than Emily's, leaving the scars on her stomach and the muscles on her legs exposed.

"Thank you, Sigrid," Emily said, once she had dressed, though she couldn't help but tug at the hem of the fur top.

Sigrid nodded, running a hand over her own similarly cropped furs. Her confidence--swagger, really--had returned in full force now that she was clothed again. "Aye. Feels better. Let's get moving."

After putting out the fire and collecting the remains of the cold-hare meat in a crude pelt-pouch, Sigrid and Emily emerged from the cave into the harsh but clear dawn of the Cinder Wastes. The wind was milder today, but Emily could still see her breath and felt the chill against the areas of her skin that Frostfang fashion insisted on exposing.

"Crucible's that way," Sigrid said, pointed with Grognak towards the dark peak on the horizon, now just a little more defined in the morning light. If she felt the cold as Emily did, she didn't show it.

Emily nodded. "Let's go. The solstice is coming." By her count, they had seven days left.

The terrain was deceptive. Snow lay deep in drifts, hiding treacherous fields of shattered obsidian beneath. The wind wasn't constant, but came in sudden, violent gusts that threatened to throw them off balance. On steeper slopes, Emily pulled out areas of stone to break up icy patches, preventing them from slipping. Sigrid moved with a grim, relentless stride, using Grognak to test snow depth and chip away treacherous ice.

Hours blurred together as they marched forward, their eyes locked on the immense black peak of the Crucible. They saw no more frost sprites, but the rough terrain and cold wind were challenge enough. As the day wore on, Emily could focus on little more than placing one fur-clad foot in front of the other, keeping her mostly bare legs moving lest they become too numb from the cold.

At nightfall, they found another cave and cooked and shared the remaining cold-hare meat, drinking water from Stoneshell-melted snow to wash it down.

After five long days of monotonous hiking, the landscape began to change. The snow thinned, replaced by stretches of gritty grey ash. The air grew warmer, the biting wind lessening, only to be replaced by a shimmering heat haze rising from dark patches of ground. The skeletal trees grew sparser, and instead of frost, some bore brittle, ash-coated leaves that crumbled to dust at a touch. The Crucible loomed larger now, almost filling their vision at times, scars of old lava flows now visible down its sides.

"Transition zone," Sigrid grunted, tugging at her fur tunic as sweat poured from her brows.

Emily found the heat to be a welcome relief after the biting cold of the last few days. She no longer needed to light Stoneshell fires in her palms to keep the feeling in her fingers.

As they moved into the ash fields, the air grew stiller, the smell of sulfur heavier. A haze of heat distorted the volcano into wavering, unreal shapes. Flames on the horizon flickered in and out of view, seeming to grow bigger as they walked towards them.

Emily was about to remark on the strange persistence of these optical illusions when Sigrid raised her axe and shouted, "Fire imps!"

They were smaller than the frost sprites, little more than knee-high, made of shimmering heat and flickering flame. They darted through the ash, their chittering cries even higher pitched than the sprites'.

"Eat steel!" Sigrid roared, instantly shaking off the weariness of the long walk at the first sign of action. Axe held high, she charged the imps, screaming a gutteral chant.

Emily launched a fireball at the nearest of the imps. Immediately on collision, the imp absorbed the fireball and grew in height by a head, chittering with delight. Emily screamed.

"Don't feed them!" Sigrid yelled, slicing the oversized fire imp in half with Grognak's blade, which was glowing purple.

Emily watched in awe as both halves of the imp exploded into sparks. "S-sorry," she squeaked.

"Use the stone if you want to be helpful," Sigrid spat, cleaving another two fire imps in half. "Or just stay back!"

Biting her lip, Emily focused on the less familiar magic of the Bronzeband and levitated two medium-sized slabs of obsidian into the air. Grimacing with effort, she shifted them until they were floating on either side of a stationery fire imp, and with a mighty crash, brought them together. The fire imp made a high-pitched squeak as it was extinguished.

"That's more like it!" Sigrid shouted. "Crush 'em!"

Like the frost sprites, the fire imps were numerous, seeming to boil up from the hot ash itself. Some of them charged at Sigrid and Emily, while others lobbed fireballs. Emily found that she could absorb these attacks through defensive use of Stoneshell fire, but was careful not to let any of the imps get too close to it.

Sigrid was in her element, Grognak a terrifying blur of steel. She used the axe not just to kill, but to smash the very ash from which the imps emerged, collapsing their ephemeral forms before they fully solidified. Her movements were as efficient as they were brutal.

They fought their way through the swarm, leaving trails of dissipating ash and fleeting heat behind them. When the last imp vanished, they stood panting in the sudden silence, the air thick with residual heat and the smell of sulfur.

"Alright," Sigrid breathed, wiping sweat and ash from her brow with the back of her hand. "That's the lot of 'em. And no ravines this time."

Emily nodded, letting the last stones she was levitating fall to the ground. "That was intense."

"Eh, I've fought worse," Sigrid said. "Honestly, I had half a mind to ask you to start feeding them again. Make it a real challenge."

Emily said nothing, her eyes aimed at her furry boots as she blushed for a different reason than usual.

"You'll want to be careful with that fire around here," Sigrid said. "Other places it gives you an advantage, but not here. Fire elementals feed on it. And don't expect it to work on the dragon either." She glanced down at her tunic, its fur damp with sweat. "Don't know about you, but I'm ready to combust in these furs," said Sigrid. Her face was red as a tomato.

Loathe though she was to admit it, Emily felt much the same. The thick white fur of the cold-hares had been a lifesaver in the snow and ice of the outer wastes, but was extraordinarily uncomfortable this close to the volcano, especially after the workout she'd gotten dealing with the imps. She cast Sigrid a sympathetic look.

"I'm not suggestin' we strip off, if that's what you're thinking," Sigrid continued, a flash of discomfort in her eyes. "I can use Grognak to shear the fur off the skins." As if to demonstrate, Sigrid grabbed a fistful of white fur from her chest and sliced it off in one smooth motion of her axe, revealing the hareskin beneath.

Emily breathed a sigh of deep relief. She wondered how many other times in her adventures thus far there might have been sensible but unexplored alternatives to stripping off. "Good idea, Sigrid," she said.

Sigrid made short work of her own outfit, leaving a pile of white fur at her feet before moving onto Emily. Emily's heart raced as Sigrid grabbed at her, yanking her violently forward by the fur of her top. "Eep!"

"Sorry, don't know me own strength," Sigrid said dismissively, clearly not very sorry at all. Throughout the shearing, she did not make an effort to use any less strength, and Emily found herself increasingly grateful that they were on the same side.

In a few minutes, Emily stood beside Sigrid in her modified and much cooler hare-leather outfit, realizing for the first time just how much of the clothings' volume had been composed of fluffy fur. Their skirts were now closer to loincloths, and their tops little more than bras. This was, Emily told herself, much more suited to the heat. It was also more than she'd worn in Castle Elid, or at the Coral Gala.

The way became steeper as they approached the foothills of the Crucible. The final approach was a climb. Ash fields gave way to slopes of jagged, black volcanic rock, many warm to the touch. Steam vents hissed from cracks in the ground. Sweating even now, Emily was grateful for the adjustments Sigrid had made to their outfits.

Sigrid led the way, testing footholds for stability with her axe. Where the way became too difficult, Emily shifted rock with the Bronzeband. At last, they reached an opening in the side of the mountain. The air inside was suffused with heat and smelled strongly of sulphur.

Emily looked at Sigrid, her face illuminated by the volcanic glow, rock dust clinging to her damp skin. Sigrid met her gaze, her expression hard but a little excited. "Time to meet the dragon," she said, her voice low.

Emily gulped. "The Heartflame must be somewhere inside."

"Ready, Emily?" Sigrid asked, hefting Grognak.

"Ready," Emily replied, as they ventured into the heart of the mountain.