Chapter 14
The Ice-Bound World

hen the light returned it came in a shower of silvery‑white shot with splinters of rainbow colour. It was as though the crown so roughly snatched from Mark had enlarged to fill his entire vision. He blinked to bring everything into focus. But the sensation of being drawn into a world of silver inset with diamonds lingered.

     Then, with his hands still clasped by the strange being who had captured him, his gaze was drawn back to hers. And a current like an electrical shock tingled through him. For her eyes really were silver. They should have been repellent and fishily cold—and they did indeed look alien—but Mark thought them the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.

      It was the climate of the world to which she had welcomed him that was so cold. Though fascinated by her eyes, Mark was soon intensely aware that the silvery-white background was an apparently endless row of close-set pillars soaring so high he couldn’t see their tops. It was these that glittered in the glacial light as though set with diamonds.

      Any other observations were cut short by his awareness that he was shivering uncontrollably. Then something soft and white settled on his shoulders and over his head—a hooded furry cloak, whose warmth was like slipping into a bed heated by an electric blanket on a freezing night. At the same time soft, warm shoes encased his feet.

      With the defrosting of his body, Mark’s benumbed mind cleared and the full import of the Goddess’s greeting hit him. “What did you call me?” His boyish treble sounded thin and high in the frozen air.

      The Goddess put an arm around his shoulders. “Prince Mark of Lazaronia. It is your title.”

      “But I’m not a prince. You’ve got the wrong Mark. And I’m not even from Lazaronia: I’m just staying there. I come from Earth.” It was only as he gave this final information that Mark guessed she already knew.

      “No, you’re not a prince—yet. Lazaronia has no boys, let alone princes.” The silvery voice was laden with grief. “And apart from Esmé there are no girls.”

      Mark gaped in horror. “No children? But why? What happened?”

      “Nothing. That’s the trouble. Except for the King and Queen, who had Esmé, nobody could have children—because Ignarius cast a spell of infertility on all couples of childbearing age. Esmé is the last of her race and without a suitable husband for her the lineage of Lazaronia’s royal blood will end. Even if we reverse the spell it will be too late for many. Women who long for motherhood are breaking their hearts over their childlessness.”

      “Oh, how dreadful!” No wonder Esmé seemed older than he was rather than younger. And Mark remembered something puzzling she had said—something about not having met a boy before. He tried hard to imagine life as the only child on Earth. “Poor Esmé must be so lonely.”

      The Goddess’s silvery laugh rang out, calling up echoes from a dreamlike landscape that looked as though it had never heard a laugh. “That’s the sort of prince we want—one who thinks of others first.” Her smile, and the approval in her voice, chased away the grief of seconds before.

      But surely he should contradict her, tell her he wasn’t the brave, unselfish boy she imagined, that back on Earth he let others fight his battles. Only how did one contradict such an awesome being as a Goddess? And how could he bear seeing her warm regard turn to cold disdain? A hot tide of shame engulfing him, he dropped his gaze and bent his head to hide his blush, hoping that if she saw she would take it for embarrassment at her praise.

      But the Goddess didn’t notice, or simply ignored, Mark’s confusion. “Now give me your hand. We must get you away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears.”

      With her right hand she grasped Mark’s and raised her left above her head. Something flashed in the half-light from the back of the raised hand—a huge diamond-like stone with a hint of cold pale yellow at its heart. Then, before Mark could see the gem properly, they were rising from the hard white ground towards the great silvery pillars. And he saw that these were the ice-bound side of a cliff formed into folds like a curtain. They passed between two folds and Mark thought for one horrifying moment that they would hit the cliff-face. But it simply dissolved and he found himself inside a cave with near-white walls and towering pillars. Except for the warmth, it was as though the outside world had turned itself inside-out.

      “Please excuse the lack of human comfort,” the Goddess said—for the cave contained only a throne-like chair and a bed, both made of some type of polished quartz or crystal that glittered like diamonds in the soft, eerie light. The bed was covered with what looked like white animal furs far too large to have come from any animal known to Mark.

      While Mark was absorbing his surroundings the Goddess continued: “Ignarius imprisoned me in my own domain by sealing it in a cocoon of eternal winter, thus all but freezing the powers he hadn’t been able to drain from me. He couldn’t seize my throne simply because I had placed it in here. It and the Ougemona are my only weapons of power and through them—and of course Esmeralda—I finally brought you to Lazaronia.”

      By this time the Goddess had settled Mark in the bed and sat herself on its edge like a mother about to tell a bedtime story.

      “A long, long time ago a mighty warrior arose in Lazaronia and conquered it, making himself king. Being a grasping, possessive man, the first thing he did was marry the conquered chieftain’s young widow. She had little choice. Her love of life was too strong to take the only other road—joining her husband in death. Then she had twins, born inside Geheimberg’s caverns, where they lived hidden for many years because the usurping king insisted they were not his but those of his conquered enemy. I secretly helped to raise them. One was Lazarone the First, named for the land that his mother loved.

      “The usurper died and, since there were no other royal children, Lazarone—by then a bold and handsome youth—became king. Lazaronia blossomed and prospered under his rule and I fell in love with him. So great was my longing for him that I became human, weakening my powers, and went down to his world and married him. So that he wouldn’t die, I elevated him to godhood, making my powers even more vulnerable.

      “You have heard how Ignarius killed his brother the Godking and how the sacred mountain turned upon him. Unfortunately, in turning upon Ignarius Geheimberg also imprisoned my husband’s body, without which I couldn’t return him to life. Now that the barrier is down we should be able to break Ignarius’s spell and bring the Godking’s bones out.

      “Because I made Lazarone a god and Ignarius was his twin, I couldn’t stop Ignarius claiming a share of the power. He had only to wait for the birth of another pair of royal twins—and to ensure through an evil spell that their names were Lazarone and Ignarius, thus enabling him to take over the one named Ignarius. I was powerless to stop him also killing that second twin, Esmé’s father. It was dreadful knowing what was going to happen and being unable to prevent it. And now Ignarius plans to use the power in the sands of Lazaronia’s desert to conquer both Lazaronia and Earth and turn their inhabitants into slaves.“

      Mark gulped. Guilt seized him. He had nearly forgotten Ignarius’s intentions towards Earth. “Yes I know. But how can I help? I can’t marry Esmé when I grow up because I don’t belong in her world.”

      The Goddess transfixed him with the gaze of her remarkable eyes—and, despite her sympathy and warmth, that gaze was implacable.

      “There is no other way, Mark."

© L A Barker Enterprises
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NOTES ON NAMES:

• Weraltouge comes from Old High German. Weralt = world and Ouge = eye. A rough pronunciation is Vairahltowga.
• Ougemona is also from Old High German. Ouge = eye (as above) and Mona = moon. A rough pronunciation is Owgamona.
• Geheimberg (geheim = secret or hidden; Berg = mountain) is pronounced roughly Guh-hime-berg.
• Lazarone: I created this name from Lazarus, surely the most famous person ever brought back to life. But at the time I didn’t realise it wasn’t the wizard’s real name but that of two murdered kings, one of whom was also a god brought back to life by his wife, the Goddess Lazaria—just as Osiris, King of Egypt, was restored to life by his wife, the Goddess Isis. Similarly, I called my hero Mark Willoughby without realising the name had significance, identifying him as the One Marked by Willow. After discovering this, I had to rewrite the beginning of The Impostor-King, the scene where Mark first meets Queen Esmeralda (and probably many other scenes as well). In fact, the beginning of this book went through so many re-writes I can no longer remember how many!