Behind them, the avalanche of dogans tore a hole in the overstretched ranks of the grahs and swallowed them one by one while the rain of icicles speared the ones stubborn enough to still fight them.
“Any idea where your shell is?” the female asked.
“It’s… complicated,” Gill said, realizing he was unable to tell where he was held in the catacombs.
“Then Ugo won,” she concluded.
He was searching frantically for a solution, although his efforts seemed utterly futile. Not wanting to offer Ugo the pleasure of disconnecting him, he thought of doing it with his own hand while he was still able to move. Still, he hesitated: Should he tell the female he could escape through the skylight?
He deeply inhaled the aromas of the pathkeeper still fresh in his olfactory memory, convinced that the ruckus around him was hiding the chance to escape connected… There had to be a way to do it. He had defeated Ugo’s army, killed the slobberings and guvals, but in a twist of genius, the jure had turned the tides of the battle in his favor.
Gill was aware that one of the reasons Ugo always won was the fame that surrounded him, the others’ expectation of losing. “If you go to war convinced that you will lose, you will lose,” said Laixan. Yet Gill didn’t have this complex; he couldn’t afford to. Deeply inhaling the recessive aroma, he imagined time’s knot like a pendulum, its recoil strong enough to throw him back on the shores of peace. He flexed his thoughts on imaginary levers, testing their strength, probing the resistance of the node’s fabric, deciding to topple it again—to turn over the reality and defeat Ugo like he defeated his monsters on the hill.
As usual, the proper lever lay right in front of his spikes, too obvious to be noticed by others.
“Maybe he didn’t win,” he whispered.
He turned Sandara to face him. Abandoning all courtesy, he grabbed her by the armor’s thongs, beginning to undress her.
“What are you doing?” she exclaimed, surprised.
“Help me!” he urged her, without giving any details.
In less than a minute, they were both out of their armor.
“Now what?” The female threw him an inquiring look, trying to find out whether he had lost his scent.
Gill smashed the ice railing of the river, slipped his left arm around her waist, and jumped with her into the torrent. Immediately, the icy water covered them. Unfortunately, it wasn’t breathable like that in the portal tunnels. Even worse, the water was so cold that his tortured muscles contracted involuntary, squeezing the air out of his lungs. His whole existence collapsed to the point of un-Antyran torture where his only goal was to take a breath of air through the suffocating splashes—all the while he was sliding at breakneck speed along the ice bed, slamming into the banks and being pulled under by whirls.
Sometimes they managed to glimpse large halls and beautiful bridges raised by the dogans before they disappeared in an instant, covered by the wild foam. A few times the river widened into small lakes, which they crossed faster than a tailbeat, followed by steeper slopes where the riverbed narrowed again.
Riding on a mountain of water, Gill and Sandara fell down a small waterfall, still clinging to each other. Just when he was hoping that they were about to get out, Gill realized the ceiling was drawing dangerously low.
“We’re in big trouble,” he mumbled, sliding through a flooded section.
Luckily for them, it didn’t last long. After two more meanders, the twilight became visible through a large opening—a sign they were about to get out of the glacier. Large boulders lay scattered in the riverbed, so Gill pulled Sandara by his side to protect her from any sharp crags.
As they tumbled out of the glacier, a sharp blow to his head rendered Gill unconscious. Sandara grabbed him under his shoulders, fighting to keep his head above the water. It was an almost-impossible task in the strong torrent, but the riverbank was only a few tail-lengths away.
“Don’t you die on me,” she cried, breathing heavily. “Wake up!”
After a moment longer than eternity, Gill came back to his senses. Moaning in pain, he rolled on his knees, the foam climbing up to his chest.
Helped by Sandara, he managed to get to his trembling feet.
“Did we make it?” he muttered, squeezed of energy.
“Almost,” answered a voice that didn’t belong to the female.
They turned just in time to see Ugo-Dedris riding the ice llandro out of the glacier—almost as fast as the icy torrent. But the llandro was unable to skid over the arkanes, so it stopped at the end of the ice slope.
Ugo dismounted in a hurry and rushed toward them, pulling the purple sarpan from its sheath. He didn’t wear a helmet anymore. The ugly gash on his forehead, dripping green blood on his face, hinted that he may have lost it when his head had met a thick icicle. Gill could see his face, transformed by a bizarre male–female metamorphosis, close enough to Ugo’s real features that he could be recognized easily. If Dedris was considered the most beautiful female that dreams could ever imagine, the face in front of them was born from a nightmare…
The flood of dogans was no doubt left behind, and no other ice creature could be seen.
“Well, well, well, do I smell a romance?” Ugo guffawed insolently, noticing how Sandara was holding Gill’s arm protectively. “I’m glad you already followed my advice, but this male isn’t a good match for you. He has to go,” he said with fake sadness in voice.
“I won’t let you harm him! You’ll have to kill me first!” she shouted.
“No! I want you to see how your little protégé goes away. Then you can tell the old rag all the details!”
“Ugo, please, you can’t do this!” she implored.
“You know I have a thing for you… but this time I find myself forced to say nay,” he snuffled. “Now get out of my way!”
With a shout, Sandara let go of Gill’s arm and jumped toward Ugo-Dedris, wobbling on the slippery stones in the riverbed. The jure greeted her with a brutal blow from the armor’s sleeve, throwing her on her back. Using her last drop of energy, Sandara jumped to her feet, just in time to receive another savage blow in the sternum from the sarpan’s handle. She collapsed in a whirlpool and clung to a rock nearby, too exhausted to pull herself out of the water and face another attack from the abomination.
“I have to admit, I’m impressed!” the jure said, turning to Gill. “You escaped through my spikes, beat my army, and escaped again. But I’m afraid this time your luck is over.”
“Don’t touch him!” shouted Sandara. “I promise—”
“Great female! A bit balky if you don’t know how to handle her,” he confessed, pointing at Sandara. “I’ve known her since she was an egg this small,” he said, showing him his clenched fist. What do you know… good ol’ times. Me and Forbat were friends…”
“A friendship betrayed like all the good things you once believed in!” she reproached him bitterly.
“What’s wrong with me?” exclaimed Ugo. “I’m wasting my time on your tail. Understand me, Gillabrian, I have nothing against you. I would gladly ask you to join me, but I know you won’t—as long as you don’t understand my purposes. And I have no time to explain them,” he said, as if he felt the need to apologize for what he was going to do. He looked around and muttered, more to himself, “Anyway, after the expansion, this place will be redecorated…”
Despite the crippling numbness, Gill felt a slight bump in his feet. Peeking down slowly to avoid arousing Ugo’s suspicion, he realized with his spikes wrinkled that it was his sarpan, which he had lost somewhere along the wild ride in the river. He tried to move slightly upstream to make sure he wouldn’t lose it through the slippery stones, hoping that the evening’s glare on the surface of the crystal-clear water would hide the blade from Ugo-Dedris’s prying eyes.
“I wish it could be easier… but I’m afraid we have to connect you to Tormalin by force,” the jure exclaimed. Then he started to walk the few remaining steps to him.