"Three times, Ian Blackthorn... three times."

*********

Shadows flickered on the wall as Ian leaned back in his chair and looked about the firehall. Another quiet night, only a few folk about this late. Blackhawke and Lady Xan teased each other gently nearby. Over at another table, Cronus and Inspiration quietly traded stories over their drinks. Thinking of past nights when Camelot faced armed invasions, Ian found the relative peace of the last few months welcome. The so-called gods only knew what problems the spring would bring, when the weather turned more favorable for raiding parties. Determined to enjoy the calm before the storm while it lasted, he closed his eyes and let the murmur of low voices lull him gently to sleep.

"Wake up, Ian Blackthorn! It is time."

He frowned. He knew that voice all too well. "Imbolc is gone by, Arianrhod. It's past time for the combat."

"Do not try my patience. Of course Imbolc is over, and you fought most nobly. But that is past, this is now. I have need of your services, Iannonvethallion, and this shall be the second task of the three that you owe me. Open your eyes."

But still he kept them closed. The revelation that he had fought again on that other plane and could not recall it disturbed him greatly. If the Goddess could cause that, what else might he have done for her and not remember?

"Oh, for pity's sake! It was the only time. Herne thought it best. Now open your eyes, and let's go. I am trying to be patient, but perhaps you need a reminder?" A sudden burning around his throat brought Ian's eyes wide open, his hand feeling the golden torque appearing from his skin. "I'd hoped not to have to resort to this again, but you've left me no choice."

He struggled to his feet, aware for the first time he was no longer in the Great Hall of Camelot. A thick mist surrounded them as it did the first time she had summoned him. "See here, now, you just can't keep doing this! I'll not leave Skye or my children and without a word as to where or why I've gone! For that matter, where ARE we?" Arianrhod did not answer, a small smile on her face as she waved her hand and the mist dissolved into a view of snow covered terrain. That was when Ian realized another thing: except for the torque around his neck, all his clothes and weapons had vanished. He covered himself as best he could and glared at the Goddess. "I won't be of much use to you frozen stiff."

"Fa! You are quite safe as long as I wish it. But it would be best you remember that. Consider that a gentle reminder." No sooner had she spoken then Blackthorn was once more fully clothed, but with the addition of a heavy fur-lined hooded cloak. "As to where, we are far north of Camelot, and in that direction," she nodded towards the North, "is a small village. Your task awaits there. When it is complete, you will be returned home, with no loss of time, so that your wife will not go mad with worry over your absence."

"What sort of task? Who am I look---". Ian cursed as Arianrhod simply vanished and a sudden blast of frigid wind tore at him. He stood there fuming for a few more seconds, then, drawing the cloak closer about him, set off in search of this village. "Alright, damn you!"

"Sooner begun, sooner done!"

3/00


Tears of Ice: Part II

Reaching the village was a bit more difficult than Arianrhod had let on. In order to travel north Ian first had to walk west alongside a raging ice-cold stream. A glance back revealed the source of the water, a slowly advancing glacier that must have been there forever. He sighed and went as quickly as he could over snow that was, fortunate for him, not very deep, humming an old dirty marching song as he mulled matters over in his mind. Thoughts of Corwin's disappearance and of the siege of Bornek's castle were his main concern. And Skye, of course, always Skye.

Gradually the stream slowed, it's course choked by thickening ice, and Blackthorn had to scramble over large boulders before gaining a path to a rock-strewn beach. To his left lay a great white expanse, an ocean frozen under yards of ice, and the wind became fiercer, plucking at his cloak insistently. "Next time, damnit, can we visit someplace warm, hmm, goddess?" A blast of colder air was the only reply. "No sense of humor, hey?"

Another hour further north along the beach brought him to an area where the cliffs along his right suddenly disappeared giving way to what looked like a plain stretching back towards still more mountains. A pass in the peaks was barely visible to the east, while another that looked barely passable was to the north. Most unexpected of all were the huts set a hundred yards back into the snow covered plains from the beach. There were people here! In fact, one was walking down to the frozen shore. Ian shouted and waved his arms to attract attention and the stopped. Blackthorn waved again, but now whoever it was turned away and began to run straight out onto the ice.

"Wait, I won't hurt you!" But still the other ran, although it did shout something back, and Ian's heart leapt to his throat. It was a child out there! "I am here to help! Please! Don't!" Ian swore and began to run in pursuit. "Stop!" Now he could make out long blonde hair and what looked like a basket in the child's arms. A girl. "Damnit!" And now Ian ran faster, for the girl was getting closer and closer to a hole in the ice. "Look out!"

And then she ran into the hole and plunged from view. Ian roared for help. Where was the rest of the family? Surely there were others living here? He kept running, even though he knew he was already too late, that he had failed Arianrhod, but still he ran. Then a few yards from the hole his legs suddenly shot out from under him as he hit a slick spot and he slid on like an arrow over the ice until he too hit the hole in the ice, slid into the darkness, and was gone.

4/00


Tears of Ice: Part III

Death, Ian decided, could most definitely not smell of seaweed.
Could it?
And a LOT of seaweed at that!
He rubbed at his nose, then stopped as he realized he must still be alive. "Good. Skye would have never forgiven me." He tried to sit up, but found he was atop a wet soggy mass that made it a bit difficult.

"Ah! Seaweed. So that's wh---"

Something hard slammed into his back. A rough hand clamped over his mouth as others pulled him back down. "Silence, fool." a voice hissed into his ear. Ian's eyes blinked as his half-elven sight began to show where he had fallen. Heavily furred people huddled off to his side, many staring up overhead. He followed their gaze and only the hand over his mouth kept him from exclaiming his amazement. Above their heads, glowing with the light of the blue sky, was the ice he had just run across. It seemed to be 3 or 4 feet at least to the surface, and the hole he had dived through was now covered with a strange bag that sagged heavily against the ropes that held it tightly in place.

He was just about to make the effort to ask what all this was when the sounds of footsteps on the ice above made him still. There were people up there. And since these down here were being extremely quiet, it must mean they did not wish to be found.

He stayed silent, and waited. Whoever was on the surface passed on the hole; some, to Ian's astonishment, seemed to be on horseback. They came back across nearly ten minutes later, and in all that time, none of his captors moved or spoke. In fact, it was nearly a full half-hour after that before someone uttered a sound. Then the hand moved away from Ian's face and its owner helped him to stand.

"Who are you, fool?" Angry eyes glinted in the strange cold light. There were some sort of glowing stones down here too, adding to the eerie lighting. Ian suppressed a chuckle. Someone was going to be very shocked. He gave a slight bow.

"Might I sit by your fire? I claim Wayfarer's Peace."

There was a sharp intake of breath and those around him murmured to each other. "Well? " Ian asked. "Have you lost all pride?"

Then a small figure stepped forward, bowing gravely as it clutched a cloth doll, and responded in perfect Sithryn.

"Be welcome to our fire, stranger. May we spend this night by it in friendship, and by dawn's light part by it in peace!"

Ian bowed back with a smile. Then all the adults stepped forward, throwing back their hoods, and Ian turned to greet them.

They were Sithryn. They were his kindred.

5/00


Tears of Ice: Part IV

They didn't have to be happy about being his kin, though. Several of the adults murmured heatedly among themselves as Ian passed the time smiling at the young girl. He thought of Arista and how she might get along well with this one; she seemed to have an adventurous spirit in common with his daughter. "How are you called, young one?"

"Nerissanemarthelon!" She giggled, but Ian decided she might be a few years older than Ari. "And who may you be who graces us?"

"Well met, Nerissa of Clan Sea Foam. I am knight Iannonvathallion." Someone murmured "Silver Rose" and another minute's discussion ensued. At last someone's voice snapped an order and an elven woman stepped to him and bowed. "No offense was meant to Clan Silver Rose. Please, we will take you to our camp. It is not far. Besides, we cannot linger here for much longer. The tide is moving in."

Ian smiled. "No offense taken. Let us move before the water comes."

The woman nodded, signaled, and they all moved off into a side passage. What looked like caves were actually channels or drop-offs running from or parallel to the shoreline. Along the way, Ian found their way lit by baskets of glowing stones attached to the sandy walls. He looked about. "Why have you come down here? Do you live under the ice?"

Nerissa shook her head. "No. We came only to harvest the seaweed and the shellfish. It is warmer down here then above, and it is easier for us than hunting the beasts that live above. Lately, though, the Children of the Flame have come. We are too few to fight, so we hide."

"Those were humans up over us? How did... " But a sharp hiss from the woman silenced him. Gradually the sandy floor had risen until they all must crouch as they made their way. Then the ground underfoot turned rocky, the ice above vanished, and the group emerged into a large cave, most likely one of those he had walked past. Ian had just enough time to look about once before they hustled him off to a small hut hidden from view by great boulders. It didn't take long before he drifted off into a few hours of sleep, even though he wondered why the Goddess had sent him here.

*********

"... so we stayed behind when the City moved on. The plain you saw earlier was where the Green Silences stood. It was an old argument. Those who left expended great energies to protect the trees from this world's harsh climate. Those of us who stayed... well, we accepted the way this land is, embraced it and live our lives on its terms."

The elfwoman who had led the way out of the ice was named Callana, and besides being Nerissa's mother, she also led this small community. Ian sat beside her in a circle of elders gathered around a small fire; small, because there were not many elders left. It was a pleasant evening so far for Blackthorn. These folk had left the other Sithryn before the Green Silences had come to his plane. They knew nothing about Thornhaven, about the circumstances of his birth or of how his mother had perished. There had been inquiries about her and sympathetic murmured condolences as he merely said she had died and then he had changed the subject. To them, he was just a visitor and distant kin, and he could enjoy their company without the stigma of kin-slayer. Now he looked at Calla as she passed him a wooden bowl of spicy fish soup. "Your numbers are few. Has the world you chose not welcomed you?"

"Oh, the land did." She made a wry face. "It was its humans who did not. At first they thought us gods when the Green Silences came, and for a time after it left that continued. They are a small race, living on the steppes beyond the mountains, always fighting amongst themselves for herds and territory. Your uncle Yarrow spent much time among them for some unknown reason. At any rate, when the Silences moved on and the humans realized how few there were of us still here, the attacks began. A few of us were carried off, may the Goddess aid them. Others, they killed. And now our numbers have dwindled to what you see here."

Ian looked around. There were mostly older elves left, but more importantly, there were eight children. Eight elven children were a rare and precious thing. He looked at Nerissa and the girl shyly pressed something into his hands. "What is this, little one?"

"It's one of the stones from the ice. We call them the Tears of Mezumiiru. When she cried in her garden some tears fell here and were made stone. It's a guest-gift to you."

"Thank you, Nerrissa. Peace between your House and mine." The child laughed again as he said the traditional thanks and Ian was sure at that moment why he had been sent here, and why the Nerissa had been the first of these elves he had seen.

He must find a way to save Nerissa.

6/00