Chapter Thirty-Eight

Loralie would have said something more to the dragons if her mother had not come up to her at that moment, dragging her father along with her. "Loralie, this is Loran, your father," Connie said, tears in her eyes as she drew the tall blond man forward.

He was as tall as Detlif, but not quite as muscular. He seemed even quieter than Det and perhaps a bit more toward the scholarly side of things. At least, that's how he looked. But his smile was warm and open when he looked at her.

"I have seen you often in my visions, but I have long waited for this day when I could finally meet you," he said, stepping forward and taking her hand.

Home. She was finally home, with her family. It was similar to the feeling she had always gotten with Det, but with none of the fire of attraction, which made sense. Still, it felt so good to be a little more at peace with her past, finally, and back with the people who loved her that she thought she had lost forever.

"I'm so sorry for all that you went through to bring us to this point, my dear daughter," Loran said. "I have been so proud of you. And little Petr and Penny are a joy to behold. I have begun a clandestine friendship with them both in the guise of teaching them mathematics. They are both apt pupils, though like many children, they'd rather be playing than doing sums." He chuckled as he drew back.

"I'm glad you've gotten a chance to know them. I think they'll be thrilled to know you are their grandfather," Loralie said, smiling up at this man who had caused her to have such blue eyes and fair hair, among other things.

"I hope so," Loran said quietly.

Impulsively, she stepped closer and gave him a hug. Tentative at first, his arms went around her, holding her close and she reveled in the feel of hugging her father for the very first time. She might have stayed there forever, tears wetting her eyelashes, but he patted her back and drew away.

"I'm so happy to finally see you, but now it is time for you to act, my brave girl. Everything we've all sacrificed for has brought us to this point. What you do now will decide the fate of not just our family, but of the world of man."

"So, in other words, there's no pressure," she quipped, trying to make light of the serious moment and failing a bit. The feeling of destiny was in the air, and she really had to focus. The fate of the world was in her hands, as her father had just made clear. "Sorry. I'm just a little nervous."

"Not surprising," Bev murmured, looking sharply at Loran. "Just do what comes naturally, dear. You are the strongest Guardian in generations. You have the power, and you most certainly are able to do this."

Heartened by her grandmother's words, Loralie nodded and moved to stand in front of the door that led to Skir's resting place. She took a deep breath, taking stock of what could be seen from this vantage point. She wanted to know every inch of what she could see before she tried anything. Once she started her work, there would be no going back.

"Go through it in your mind first," Det counselled in a soft voice, standing by her side. "It's a technique I often use when faced with a difficult task. Picture yourself going through the plan step by step. Imagine it in your mind as many times as you need to before you commit to actually doing it."

"That really works?" she asked after a moment. She was trying to follow his advice, and it seemed to be helping calm her, if nothing else.

"It really does," he affirmed. "It is how I train young warriors and especially young dragons. They don't just jump into the air and fly, you know. They have to learn as they grow, just like everyone else."

With Det's coaching, she went through her planned actions a few times in her mind before she acted. When she felt she had thought it all through enough, she opened her eyes and nodded at him.

"I think I've got it," she told him, smiling nervously. He leaned down to give her a quick kiss.

"For luck," he said, smiling as he stepped back. "Though I don't think you'll need it. You were born to do this, Lora. Trust in yourself and your power."

Nodding again, she tried to take his confidence into herself. Everyone backed away from the open doorway. It was a wide door that could probably fit a dragon through it, and it marked the edge of the ice block. Skir was a shadowy figure on a bed inside the otherwise bare chamber.

Loralie moved back a few yards from the large doorway so she could see the size of the chamber, marked by the walls. She didn't have to be right up close to the ice to do this. She'd learned that from her use of the spells with Gebel and her family.

Taking a deep breath, Loralie began the incantation that would, she hoped, revitalize the failing ice in Skir's chamber. She held her breath as the power began to build, then let it out in a whoosh at the same moment she unleashed her spell at the substandard, blue-tinted ice.

She kept up the flow of magical energy, shaping it with her hands as something started to happen. This was the largest and most complex of the ice spells she had attempted, and she wasn't quite sure it would work. The doubt crept in, and things started to change…

Something was wrong. Very wrong. Loralie felt her spell go sideways, and then, the ice in the chamber disappeared with an audible snap as Skir opened his eyes.

Oh, dear Goddess! No!

The ancient and evil wizard, Skir, was off the bed in a flash and stalking toward her, his gaze holding her as frozen as he had been for centuries. Then, a flash of shiny deep red moved in front of her, breaking the eye contact. It was followed immediately by Det, inserting himself in front of her, his sword drawn and ready for combat.

Loralie realized it was Leasharra who had moved in front of her, flanked by the two snow dragons, and the temperature in the hall increased as the dragons flamed in turn.

"They're holding him inside the chamber," Det reported, apparently in touch with Gren. "Rebuild the ice now while you have the chance," he urged.

"Right." Loralie said, shaking her head. Skir had done something to her, but his spell had been broken by Leasharra. Thanks be to the Mother of All.

Loralie regrouped and gathered her magic once more. She looked for a calm within her soul to ground herself. She found thinking of her children, and of Det, brought the necessary peace to her soul. Smiling faintly as she held them in her heart, Loralie wove intricate patterns with her hands, discovering that this was actually easier—starting from scratch—than trying to refreeze already melting ice. When she was ready, she sent a quick message to Leasharra.

"Lower your right wing so I can see to aim my blast," she requested of the red dragon. A moment later, Leasharra complied, and Loralie let loose her power before Skir had time to blink.

He was looking right at her, but her magic casting was too fast. Before he could even raise his hand in her direction to deflect, the ice had him.

Loralie's heart was pounding, but it looked like the ice was back—stronger than it had ever been, at least in her lifetime. Maybe in a lot longer than that.

The dragons moved aside, and Connie and Bev came forward to inspect what Loralie had done. Silence reigned for a long moment as Det stood ready for anything while Loralie held her breath to see if she'd really managed to trap the wizard again.

"It's solid," Bev pronounced. "And dry. Powerful," she went on, grinning in satisfaction. She turned to wink at Loralie. "Well done, Granddaughter."

"Look at the color," Connie marveled, calling everyone's attention to the green cast to the clear ice that was closer to yellow than to blue.

"This ice resonates at a much higher frequency than the original," Bev observed. "It was more like this when I was a little girl. I watched as it degraded over the years. I think all of the ice in the Citadel should be more like this, if we can manage it. Between the three of us, I believe we can, if we take it one chamber at a time over the next few years."

"You're talking about a very large undertaking, Mother," Connie observed.

Bev nodded. "I am. This place hasn't been properly cared for since my time, and even then, we were just maintaining what we could. We didn't have the kind of power needed to really shore up the magic of this place. Not like what Loralie can command." Bev smiled proudly at her granddaughter. "The Guardians were supposed to rework the spells every year to keep the ice in tip-top condition, but over the eons, the magic got a bit diluted in our line. Bringing more fey blood into the family seems to have done the trick to bring back the kind of power we need to really do the job once more."

"I had no idea," Connie whispered, looking at her husband, Loran, who stood with his dragon partner off to one side.

"Not to mention, there are now three of you to do the work that only one could do before," Det observed, putting his blade back into its scabbard. He moved to stand at Loralie's side, and she put her hand on his arm, her knees feeling a bit weak after such a large expenditure of energy.

"I think I need to sit down," she said softly, and Det turned to her with alarm in his gaze. "I'm all right, just a bit weak after…that." She gestured toward the open doorway and the mean-faced wizard frozen within.

Det helped Loralie to a nearby bench. Many of the hallways had such benches built along the walls beneath the high windows. Possibly just for this purpose, Loralie mused as she sat. The Guardians of old had probably needed to sit after casting their maintenance spells. It made sense.

Bev was still standing close to the new wall of ice that ended just inside the doorframe. She stared at Skir for a long moment.

"You could have rested comfortably on your bed of ice. Instead, you will be standing facing a closed door for eternity. Or, at least as long as this ice holds, which I believe will be a good long while," Bev mused. "Take it from me—it's not very comfortable."

"Mother, do you really mean that? Were you aware of your position that whole time?" Connie asked, a look of horror on her face.

"Even in the deepest of the ice sleep, there are moments of awareness in the dream state. If I had to put a number on it, I'd say every decade or so, my consciousness rose to mark the passage of time. Like clockwork. I think the wizards of old designed it that way so the prisoners would know they had been well and truly caught and neutralized, and for how long. Each time I became aware, I realized how uncomfortable it was to be forever running without going anywhere. Even though it didn't hurt physically, there was something in my mind that didn't like it at all," Bev admitted with a little shudder.

"I didn't realize…" Connie said. "I wasn't imprisoned nearly as long, and I guess I thought my awareness was just a sign of the failure of the ice, not something that was planned into the original spell."

"You were only frozen for a couple of decades, my dear," Bev said to Connie in a kind voice. "I was under for a couple of centuries."