A Song of Ice and... That's It, Really

An Order of the Stick fanfic by Christina Nordlander
Concept by ColdCollector

The Order of the Stick and all characters in this story (except for the enemy party, Casshan, and minor NPCs) are the property of Rich Burlew.

Summary: Haley becomes more of a liability than an asset to the party when she's struck by an insidious curse. Will she find a cure before it's too late?

~

Haley stood at the railing as the Mechane slid across the desert, its shadow small on the flesh-coloured sand below. A mountain range whose name she couldn't remember rose far ahead. Elan was standing next to her, blond hair flying in the wind. They had stopped talking. Right now, all they needed was to be together.

She would miss the desert. It felt a bit childish and selfish. Elan certainly wouldn't miss this place – the sooner he got out of it, the better. Roy and Durkon weren't likely to have very fond memories of it, either. Especially given Durkon's current sensitivity to sunshine, they were well rid of the place.

Her bare arms prickled up from the cold. It was just because of the altitude and the wind. Her leather cuirass –the negleathergé, as Elan kept calling it– didn't do an awesome job keeping the cold out.

The desert had been warm.

~

The countryside in Snailrock Valley had been warm. The heat rising off the road shimmered like the air above a displacer beast's back, and that might have been why everyone in the party failed their spot checks until the other travellers were within bumping-into distance.

“Hey, watch where you're going!” Belkar shouted at the elf who had nearly knocked him over.

Both groups stopped in the road, facing each other. From her place in the back, Haley sized up the newcomers. There were five of them: a green-clad kobold with a bow on her back, a willowy blue-haired elf, a human woman whose long robes and impractical jewellery screamed “magic user”, a dwarf with a big battle-axe, and a plate-armour-covered man big enough to have at least a bit of ogre in his DNA. Such a range of races and classes together was fairly rare; that sort of height difference was a pain, for one thing.

“Good day,” Roy said, still standing back. “Am I right in assuming you're fellow adventurers?”

The fighter turned to his team-mates, ignoring him. “Looks like we've found what we came for, guys.”

Haley heard the glacial sound of the Greenhilt Blade sliding out of its scabbard. She snatched one of the arrows from her quiver and placed it on the string of her Icy Burst bow in a single motion.

“Oh good,” Elan said to no-one in particular. “Moving around a bit will cool us right down.”

Roy turned to the others.

“All right,” he said between gritted teeth. “We outnumber them, that means they're confident that they are stronger than us. Vaarsuvius, focus on that big warrior to start with. He looks pretty well armoured. Haley, take out their casters. Durkon, provide backup. Belkar, protect our ranged units.”

“Ooh, ooh, me!”

“... Elan, sing or something.”

The enemy party dislodged from their own huddle and turned to face the Order. Haley pulled the bowstring until it sang between her fingers. In another moment, the road would devolve into a chaos of blood and clashing iron and encouraging lute music. Her eyes narrowed as she focused on the robed woman. The elf was clearly a cleric of some description, which would make the human woman the local offensive spellcaster. It would probably be best to take her out first. Or the ranger?

As one, their enemies launched themselves at Roy.

The sudden attack shocked Haley enough to make her look around. Roy whipped out his sword.

“Focus on their casters!” he shouted.

Haley launched the arrow. It was a close one, but it hit the woman's sweeping-sleeved arm. Her hand dropped, letting go of her spell.

Roy got in a wicked blow against the dwarven fighter before spinning to block the human fighter's sword. The elf raised his hands calling on some god or other, and Haley swivelled around to let off another arrow at him.

The Order was holding its own, and thanks to the meat-shields she hadn't taken more than a few cuts. Frankly, the heat was a bigger nuisance. It made her hair floop into her eyes, and she kept having to wipe the sweat from her forehead and wasting good shooting time.

Haley took aim at the spellcaster again. She had platinum-blond hair and golden-brown skin, making her look like a drow who needed to hit the sunbed a bit more. She was unhurt, and her hair was still piled up in an immaculate tower despite the heat. The spellcaster turned slightly – facing Elan. Haley drew back another arrow, but the woman didn't attack him. She just raised a delicate eyebrow at him and laughed, a sound like silver. Elan jolted like he'd just woken up from one of those annoying half-dreams that come when you're about to sleep, and his song died off as if he'd just forgotten the lyrics to “fight, fight, fight the evil adventuring party”.

Oh no you don't.

Haley let off an arrow at her. The spellcaster put one hand up, creating a Whirlwind Shield that made her arrow flop harmlessly to the ground. The draft made her robes swirl up a bit, and Elan was staring.

“Haley, thair cler'c!” Durkon shouted.

Haley spun around and fired, knocking back the elf and causing his spell to falter.

The fighter's swings were slower than Roy's, but Roy briefly fumbled and the other guy got in a staggering hit to his head. Aiming was difficult, but Haley managed to get a shot in at the neck joint of his armour. The tell-tale minty-white blur of the cold-spell erupted through his visor, and he lurched backward as Roy rallied.

She turned her attention back to the spellcaster. V and Roy would take care of that guy; all she had to do was keep shooting and minding her stat penalties.

In that moment, there was a sound of impact and Roy's shout:

“... took my sword!”

A blur a slightly different colour from the rest of the air zipped past Haley. She caught a glimpse of an unmistakable green hilt in its grip.

“Crap, they've got ninja...”

The enchantress laughed again. Roy was shouting at them to go after his sword, but as Haley looked, the enchantress smiled a wide, glittering smile and walked purposefully closer to Elan. Elan did have his rapier, of course, but he wasn't using it. He was standing there like a deer in love with the headlights.

Haley notched another arrow and sent it flying, embedding it in the woman's shoulder. She scooted a bit closer to Elan, just in case.

“Thanks for the backup, Hales,” he whispered and went back to strumming his lute.

“Lightning bolt,” Vaarsuvius said matter-of-factly behind her.

She heard a crackle of thunder and a scream. Evidently they'd got the ninja. The others huddled around their fighter, and she used a Listen check to catch a few whispers.

“... can still fight.”

“Look, sir, Yuko is down to single-digit HPs. We can pull out now...”

“We are this close!”

“... unless you want to pay for a Raise Dead.”

Roy came sprinting back, holding his sword like it was a price cup. Haley felt her face relax in a smile and lowered her bow for a second –

– the second the woman aimed a spell at Elan.

Haley didn't have time to notch another arrow, but she did have time to throw herself in front of him.

Time slowed down, the way it does when you're falling. She heard the clatter of her quiver, saw the pebbles on the ground below her, and saw the shimmering beam shoot from the enchantress' hand and go straight through her chest...

And it didn't hurt.

Haley narrowly succeeded a Tumble roll, flipped and got to her feet. There was still no pain, no effect at all. The front of her leather jerkin was unmarred.

As she straightened up, the spellcaster raised her hand in another spell. Haley went for an arrow, but the woman said:

“Teleport!”

A blinding light enveloped her group, as well as the lightning-struck ninja a few yards away. When Haley had finished blinking, they were all gone.

The Order regrouped. Roy slid his sword back into his belt and rubbed a bloody scratch across his head.

“I just can't believe this,” he said. “It's as if Xykon isn't enough of a quest, now we've got a bunch of idiots thinking they can mug us and get away with it. Some days, I wish I'd become a pole-arms salesman.”

“Does anyone require med'cal assistance?” Durkon said.

“I think I'll need a Heal Minor Wounds,” Roy said, finding a rock and sitting down. “How's everyone else?”

“We appear to be largely unscathed,” Vaarsuvius said. “I was forced to expend a number of spell slots, and I believe Miss Starshine has gained some roleplaying XPs by expressing jealousy over Elan, but that is about it.”

The impulse to mention the spell came to Haley, and left as suddenly. If she noticed anything, she could always bring it up to Durkon later. There was no point in worrying the others over nothing, and coming off as a wuss at that. Chances were that whatever it was, it just hadn't been able to overcome her armour rating.

“Well,” Roy said to no-one in particular, “whoever those people were, we're not likely to see them again.”

“Ye reckon?” Durkon said.

“Well, yeah. We already have enough nemeses... there's Xykon, and Elan's idiot brother's party. That's as many enemies as this campaign needs.”

As they walked on through the glaring sunlight, Haley glanced down at the front of her jerkin a couple of times. Whatever it had been, the spell had shaken her up. Perhaps that was what it was supposed to do.

~

That night she dreamt that she wandered through a bright snowy landscape. She was carrying a little animal, maybe a puppy, and she needed to get it to some place where it could get shelter and warmth. Her left arm was aching from pressing it close to her to keep it warm. Perhaps it was already too late and she just hadn't felt it yet.

She woke up and lay staring at the fading night sky for a while. Her arm was still aching from lying on it funny. She had no idea what that dream was supposed to prophesy.

The next day was as sunny as yesterday, but the worst heat had gone away. It was a nice summer-break warmth. Haley even whistled a bit.

“How do you do it?” Belkar said.

“Do what?”

Belkar was flushed pink and even the hair on the back of his feet was dark with sweat.

“Not get boiled alive in this heat. Is this another rogue skill? Roll an agility check to avoid the heatwave or something?”

“Seriously, it's not...”

Her voice died off as she glanced at the others. Elan had tied his cape around his waist and was trying to unbutton his chainmail. Roy's and Durkon's heads shone with sweat. Even Vaarsuvius, with an elf's ability to be aloof to everything, had to take off the gold headband and wipe a dripping brow.

“I've no idea,” she said. “Maybe it is.”

A slight breeze ruffled her hair and it was cold, cold enough to make her shudder. She pulled her hands into her sleeves. The wind went away, but the chill didn't. Haley dug around in her pack until she found her winter jacket.

Belkar glared. “Now you're just showing off.”

~

Elan slowly became aware that Haley was walking very close to him. Normally, he wouldn't mind, because she was pretty to look at and smelled a bit like wild-flowers, but it was really really warm. He turned around to ask if she could stop clinging to him, but in a nice way.

“Ha–”

Haley was wrapped up in a fur-lined jacket and had a knit cap pulled down over her ears. Her teeth were clicking together loud enough for him to hear, and her lips were a dark blue. Not good.

“Hey, Haley, have you been eating blueberries?”

Haley stopped in the road, looking around at Durkon.

“I think I need a Remove Disease,” she said.

She had to sit down on a withered milestone as Durkon checked her pulse and put a hand on her forehead. Elan gathered around her with the rest of the party.

“... or a raspberry Slush Puppie or something? You can tell us, Haley. You don't have to share if you don't want.”

“I cannae feel owt,” Durkon said at last. “What other sym'toms be thair, lass? Excepting th' cauld?”

Haley breathed out, roughly. At least she was safe in Durkon's hands.

“Just the cold. My nose isn't running or anything, and I don't feel feverish. It's just...”

She shuddered again and pulled the jacket tighter.

“... like it was in the middle of winter,” she finished.

“This sounds like nae sickness I've hard of,” Durkon said. “But I shall pray for ane Remove Disease – hopef'ly it wull do ye some good.”

While Durkon lit the candles for his prayer circle and sat down to grapple with Thor's receptionist, Vaarsuvius swept up to Haley who was gritting her teeth to stop them chattering. Elan felt a need to hug her, but he knew not to interrupt the info-dump.

“It may be, Haley, that you are in fact the victim,” V said, “not of a mundane ailment, but of some sinister spell or imprecation! When we fought those adventurers yesterday, is it possible that one of their casters managed to inflict a spell upon you?”

“Actually...” Haley's gaze flopped to the ground. “Actually, that enchantress hit me full on with a spell. She was aiming for Elan, and I... well.”

Elan felt his eyes moistening a bit. She really cared about him! And to think that he'd accused her of keeping the raspberry Slush Puppies to herself.

“I didn't mention it, because it didn't seem to do anything at the time,” she finished.

“An unwise choice,” V said. “Curses that require time to incubate are often the deadliest of them all!”

“Gee, V-Vaarsuvius, th-thanks for the po-positive words.”

“What did the spell look like?”

Haley's eyes became distant. “A long glistening b-beam. Also, that sounded a lot d-dirtier than I meant.”

Vaarsuvius leaned a purple-haired head in one hand for a moment. “I am not cognisant with a curse that makes the victim feel cold. It may be a homebrew. I shall have to carry out further research.”

“But that won't be too hard for you, will it?” Elan said. “I mean, you must have read books and stuff when you were in magic school.”

“Nevertheless, I shall require a library...”

Durkon got up from his prayer. His hands and eyes glowed with white light as he cast his spell on Haley.

Elan couldn't take his eyes from her. She looked around for a moment, as if she was trying to feel if something had changed, and then she bunched up again.

“Nah, still c-cold,” she said. “Sorry, D-Durkon.”

“Roy, you have the map,” Vaarsuvius said. “Which is the closest urban settlement?”

Roy found his map and unrolled it. “This place called Highthatch is only a couple of days' walk east of here. Dunno whether it has a library, but it looks big enough to have one. How are you doing, Haley? Can you walk all right?”

Haley got up. “Yeah, no need to mollyco-coddle me. I'm p-perfectly healthy, just so terribly cold.”

Before they went on, Durkon took a look at her hands. She pulled them back into her sleeves as soon as he let go.

“Thair is no cauld damage,” he said. “And nae sign of poor circ'lation. Something is simply sucking the heat out of ye. It dinnae seem immediat'ly life-threat'ning.”

“G-go-g-good t-to hear.”

As they went on, Elan kept an eye on her anyway.

~

They didn't normally cook proper meals when making camp, preferring to subsist on Generic Rations, but tonight Roy decreed that they have a camp-fire and a nice warm meal. It was obvious that it was for Haley's sake, but she couldn't force herself to mind. The fire was growing nicely, and Belkar was cooking up a pot of something that smelled ludicrously tasty for being made of ale, herbs and dried meat.

It was good to have Belkar. Normally that thought would have shocked her, but Roy's cooking was nothing special, magic-users and practical work didn't really mix, and she couldn't have done it herself: she'd scrounged winter-wear off the others –fortunately they didn't mind in this weather– and was currently wearing two pairs of gloves and so many jackets that she felt like the Michelin Man. The cold had come on with the night.

She scooted closer to the fire. Then she tried lying stretched out on her front, but then only her face and arms got some warmth. She scrambled up again –her limbs felt like they were creaking– and tried sitting cross-legged to see if that was better.

“Oh my gods HALEY!” Elan shrieked.

She looked up at him, then back where everyone else was looking. Which was at her hand. A tiny bright flame was dancing across the outermost glove. She waved it in the air, and the flame only multiplied. She tried beating it out with her other hand. The flames caught hold on the other glove. She couldn't feel any pain yet, just a slight soupçon of warmth. Actual warmth.

Roy rushed up and tossed a mug of water on the flame. She felt that; the cold of the water went straight to her bone.

“Get your act together,” Roy said. “I don't care how cold you are –”

“Die, humans!” came a voice from the trees.

Haley spun around and saw the green faces of a company of goblins. Brilliant time for a random encounter.

While the others drew their blades, or aligned their minds with the mystical planes as the case may be, she was still taking her second pair of gloves off.

“Haley!” Roy gasped somewhere outside the circle of light. “We need backup here!”

She could get the arrow out just fine, but by the time she put it to her bowstring she'd almost lost all feeling in her fingers, even the feeling of cold. She had to operate her hands as if they were rusty old machinery.

She let off the arrow at the large goblin fighter who was swinging a double-axe at Roy, but she couldn't draw it back properly. The arrow fell short, and Roy just barely managed a Dodge roll.

“Call me human, will you?” Belkar grunted next to her as he grappled with a goblin twice his size.

She tried firing, but once more, the cold gave her a penalty to her roll. Belkar twisted free and slit the goblin's throat.

Haley narrowed her eyes, trying to see through the murk. The leader of the goblins –well, the only non-generic goblin, really– was a stringy-haired female wearing a blue cloak and holding a staff topped with a ram's skull. Her hands glowed with eldritch power as she murmured her incantation.

It was now or never. Haley's eyes closed momentarily as she let off the arrow. The goblin shaman fell to the ground, the arrow poking out of her eye. Haley shuddered as the cloud of cold from the arrow wafted towards her.

“She wasn't even looking at me this time!” Elan said.

Haley dove nimbly into the fray, or as nimbly as she could with her current load of clothes. When she came back, she was wearing a blue cloak as well.

~

It was still morning when they entered Highthatch. Haley waited huddling among the others as Vaarsuvius stepped up to an old man running a fruit stand and asked about the library.

The man shook his head.

“We're a simple town,” he said. “Afraid we ain't got such fancy bookish things here.”

“In that case, where is the nearest city where we could reasonably find a library?” Vaarsuvius said. “The life of one of my companions may be in the balance.”

The man tilted his head.

“Come to think of it, the young Squire is supposed to have a large private library,” he said, winking. “That said, it may not be exactly what you're after, boy.”

“Nevertheless, we must try,” Vaarsuvius said. “Thank you for your sagacious advice, good sir.”

The others waited around outside the great stone-pillared gates of the local manor as Vaarsuvius consorted with a butler, then disappeared inside. Normally, Haley would have been iffy about splitting the party like this, but Vaarsuvius could take care of him-or-herself. If the Squire tried anything, V would probably blow the manor up. At least the shockwave would be warm.

They'd waited several turns when Vaarsuvius came back down the garden path.

“After some negotiation,” Vaarsuvius said, “the local nobleman has agreed to let me use his library for as long as I require to find the cause and cure for Haley's curse.”

Haley managed a smile. It seemed to take a lot of energy.

“Nice alliteration,” Roy said. “So what does he want in return?”

“Your perceptiveness is uncanny. He has in fact asked that while I carry out my research, the rest of you go on a sidequest for him.”

~

Roy gripped the wooden shaft and looked upon the forest before him. He and his companions had faced worse than this, but this particular quest filled his heart with despair.

“Raking leaves,” he said.

Durkon looked up from where he'd already gathered a little heap. “Aye, Roy. Ye must admit, as sidequests gae, thair be far worse.”

Roy nodded.

“All right, I'll go rake under those elms. Please keep an eye on Haley.”

Haley had volunteered for shovelling leaves into the fire.

~

Vaarsuvius showed up outside the park-lands in the late afternoon. Haley was feeling a slight bit better, but only from the physical work and the proximity to the fire.

“Did you find anything?” she said. The fire helped keep the stutter out of her voice.

“Yes,” Vaarsuvius said, “but I have to say, the young Squire's library was rather unprofessional. It was nothing but pictures of humans copulating. I don't see the point of it, personally.”

“But you found something?” Haley said.

“Yes, the presence of such a large volume of written matter greatly increased the probability of finding that for which I searched.” Vaarsuvius paused. “You have been stricken with a curse called a 'heat thief'. It does not kill the victim, nor indeed cause any physical damage. It simply lives inside your chest, near your heart, and preys on your body heat.”

Haley looked down at herself. The little strip of skin showing between her glove and sleeve was knotting up in goosebumps.

“Thus, you are in no immediate danger,” Vaarsuvius went on. “However, the curse is designed to drive the victim to seek increasingly strong heat sources, until they incinerate themselves, and potentially their entire party. It is a most malicious curse.”

She stepped away from the fire. The cold seeped back in.

“Did you find a way to break it?” Roy said.

Vaarsuvius bowed their head.

“It says that it can be lifted by the person who placed the curse,” Vaarsuvius said. “As for other ways... I do not know. The Squire has given me leave to continue my studies tomorrow.”

“And given us leave to continue raking, no doubt,” Roy said. “Come on, Haley, let's find somewhere to stay.”

It was a long way to the inn, but the fear had driven the cold away, ironically. The curse lived inside her, Vaarsuvius had said, like a little incorporeal creature. A heat thief inside a cold thief.

None of them talked on the way. Were they going to have to go on a long sidequest to find that damn enchantress? Could she ask that of them? She didn't want to ask and find out.

The inn was badly lit and smelled damp, but at least it was indoors. After Roy paid for two rooms from their communal quest-chest, Haley turned to the others.

“I'm g-go-go-going t-t-t...”

She ended up just pointing upwards, and started trudging up the stairs with her loot-bag. As she went, she heard Belkar down below:

“Great, now we've got three party members who can't talk like normal people.”

She found the twin-bed room she was going to share with Vaarsuvius, and collected all the blankets onto her bed. V wasn't going to need any bedlinen in order to meditate.

She'd been looking forward to taking her clothes off and dozing off in her nice warm nest, but that wasn't gonna happen. She couldn't even bring herself to take her boots off. Vaarsuvius had said that her body wasn't taking actual damage, but it felt like she was blistering.

If Vaarsuvius had been struck by the curse, they might have cast Firestorm on the entire Order by now to warm themselves. In a way, she'd taken one for the team. She wished she'd been able to feel good about it.

Evening was falling outside the little grimy window. She curled up in a tight ball under the blankets and managed to doze off.

~

She woke up, gasping from the cold.

That wasn't what had woken her. A purplish aura of light hung above her face.

“V-V?” she said.

V was hanging just in front of the pale square of the window, still trancing. The light was coming from an incorporeal female form hovering in mid-air. Haley recognised those robes and that pyramidal platinum-blond hair. Her. Haley had a good mind to try to strangle her, illusion or not.

“Steal the fighter's sword,” the enchantress said. “Head north-east of Whitepillar City to an abandoned shrine with a snake carving. Hide the sword. I will cure you.”

She'd run out of words to Send, but she managed to smirk before blinking out of existence. Haley sat up.

“DAMMIT!”

Fortunately, Vaarsuvius didn't appear to have heard.

Of course she wasn't going to steal Roy's ancestral sword. She hadn't even considered it, really. But the enchantress had given her a place to start from.

She briefly considered waking V or Elan to create some sort of illusion of the sword as bait. It probably wouldn't work; all magic-users were throwing True Seeing around like it weren't a thang. Get the rest of the Order, at least the stealthier members, and set up an ambush? Nah. She didn't want to talk to them about it. It'd be all “oh, look at the thieving rogue stealing things”, and snide remarks were the best-case outcome. If she weren't so lucky, they might decide that she was a liability and... do what? Lock her up in a  heated spa somewhere? Right now, that didn't sound like such a deterrent.

Staying in bed wouldn't be any warmer than going. Haley dropped onto the floor, wrote a quick note that she pinned to V's dormant form, and quietly took her leave.

She spent some time and, sadly, money, buying a low-quality longsword and having its hilt lacquered green in the village's one smithy that was open nights. At least she got to wait in the warmth of the forge. It was almost dawn when she set out for Whitepillar City, through the mist rising from the water-logged meadows. If it was any consolation, she wouldn't have gotten much sleep anyway.

In Whitepillar City, she bought a nice warm hamburger and another pair of socks. She set out as inconspicuously as possible, following the road north until a small copse caught her eye. A copse, or the remains of a long abandoned garden?

She slid in between the brambles. At least the vegetation kept the wind out.

Finding the ruins wasn't hard. She looked for a place to hide the sword in such a way that it could be found, which was never as easy as it sounded, and eventually stuck it under a slew of vines hanging from a broken wall. Only the fake green hilt showed. She hung around in the shelter of the walls, waiting. The enchantress probably wouldn't come around until after nightfall. Going back to Whitepillar was tempting, but she might not be able to make it back on time.

When night fell, she climbed up in a tree with closely-set branches and crouched up, waiting. Something moved in the leafage underneath – probably just a bird or a small animal, but who knew? She took off her gloves and rubbed her fingers together. It made no difference. If the cold wasn't harming her, she should be able to convince herself to disregard it. It wasn't that simple.

She slid into a slightly more comfortable position and got the bow ready. From here, she had a clear line of sight to the hiding-place.

There was another noise, this one close and filled with the shattering of small twigs. She drew the string back.

Something huge and hairless moved through the underbrush, lit with its own purple light. At first it looked like some eldritch beast she'd never seen before, then she recognised the shape of a thumb and fingers. It must be one of those Bugsby's Hand spells V liked to cast. Her arrow would probably go straight through it.

The giant hand nuzzled around the front of the shrine, then grasped the sword between its thumb and index finger. It pulled it out of its hiding place like a cocktail stick and hovered into the air. It hung there for a moment, then dashed the blade down on the marble, shattering it. Haley instinctively covered her face.

She didn't dare to climb out of the tree until the hand was gone.

Was the enchantress in here? It was too dark to search the grove, and far too cold. Besides, if she'd been here she could have gone herself instead of sending a Bugsby's. It felt like a good enough excuse to leave.

Haley fought her way out through the tanglefoot-bag of underbrush. At one point she saw something shining underfoot, and habit made her pick it up, but it was just one of the shards of the broken sword. Perhaps some Level 2 adventurers would find them in the future and go on a quest.

She got out on the road and stood looking at the dark bulk of the grove for a moment. She could stand around waiting for the enchantress, but even if she were there, there was no guarantee that she would go in Haley's direction. Besides, if she was, the rest of her party might be, too. They might be a bunch of wannabes, but one rogue still wouldn't be able to take them all at once.

Haley began her slow walk back to the city. She glanced around for pursuers, but she wasn't sure why she cared. Was the cold going to stay inside her forever? Even if she died and got raised? She could go back to the Order and they could go questing for the enchantress, but they didn't even know her name.

Haley stopped in the road.

She did have a hint. The woman had used Whitepillar as a reference point, even though she could have said “north-west of Highthatch”. That meant she might be in Whitepillar, or was at least familiar with it. Besides, it was unlikely that she meant for the Bugsby's to carry the sword for several miles.

Haley returned to the city, bought a room at the best-insulated inn she could find, and slept for a good twelve hours.

She spent all of the next day asking around for the enchantress in saunas and smithies and fireplace shops. Slowly, success came within her stiffened grasp.

“I believe I've seen a woman like that, just the other day. That was a serious looker.”

“Together with a big human in armour and an elf priestess? Yeah, I've seen those.”

“Her name is Swanhild Frostbosom or something. I think she's from around here originally. They say she and her sister did some crazy stuff with elemental magic.”

“Swanhild Frostblossom, you mean? She's in Eli's party. They're just travelling by... they're staying at the Drunken Druid.”

It was dark by the time she got the last soundbite. She asked for directions until she found the cross-timbered façade of the Drunken Druid, firelight spilling through the windows.

If it was anything like other inns, the bedrooms would be on the top floor. Swanhild didn't seem like the kind of girl to sit around swigging beer in a bar, but Haley snuck an unseen peek into the common room anyway.

A human man was sitting right next to the window, facing away from her, and her first thought was Roy? Had he come here to look for her? He was dark-skinned and bald, but then he moved and she saw the collar of a rust-stained padded shirt, the kind fighters wore underneath full plate. She pulled back before he turned his head.

The coast was clear. She got onto the edge of the masonry foundation, then skimmed up a diagonal beam, holding on to a higher beam to keep her balance. Normally the climb would have been insultingly easy, but the gloves meant she couldn't gauge the texture of the wood. She wouldn't be the rogue she'd used to be until she got her body heat back.

If she'd been healthier, she might have been able to edge around the walls and look through all the windows, but she didn't trust her body enough. She found the first dark window and clung to the sill with one hand while she dug out her roll of lockpicks. They were delicate things, and her fingers were so stiff she might not even be able to hold them.

“It's all in your head,” she hissed as she turned the lockpick. “Your hands are fine.”

It must have worked. It took a good long while, but she managed to lever the window open without losing any picks. She couldn't feel her feet by the time she dropped into the room. The room door was locked as well, but she picked the lock rather more easily without the situational penalty, and slid down the corridor.

Most of the doors were shut, but one was ajar and let out a fire-coloured light. The promise of warmth as much as anything else drew her to it.

She peered around the door-frame. The enchantress was sitting on the bed, reading a scroll in the light of a small brazier that probably went counter to the inn's Health and Safety regulations. Her hair was in a messy bun and she wore a dressing gown, but her face was branded onto Haley's memory.

Haley could have sneak-attacked right there, but she needed her alive. She made a soft roll into the room and landed on her feet, arrow trained on Swanhild.

“I know wha-what you d-d-d...” She had to break off. “Break the c-curse, or I'll put something c-cold in your chest.”

Swanhild looked up and smiled, not a particularly unpleasant smile. She made a small gesture and a blue bolt of light struck Haley –

– and didn't slow her down. Crystal cold cascaded up and down her body, but it was no worse than what she'd already had to handle. She took the few steps across the floor and kept the arrow pointed at Swanhild.

Swanhild shrugged and made another gesture. A wall of flames erupted between them. Haley drew her dagger and pushed through the flames, shielding her eyes with her free arm. Her cloak caught on fire, but she beat out the flames before she could feel anything more than blessed warmth.

Swanhild shook her head slowly, inches from the dagger.

“I don't even care whether those morons get your meat-shield's sword any more,” she said. “It's not worth the effort. As for you, I suggest going somewhere warm. The Empire of Sweat is said to be particularly lovely this time of year.”

The flames winked out. So did Swanhild. Haley threw herself after her, as if she could forcibly keep her from teleporting, and felt her arms closing on the air.

Running steps in the stairway and the corridor. She spun and saw Swanhild's party members crowding the door, weapons drawn.

“It finally happened,” the kobold said. “Swanhild ditched us.”

The fighter, still doing on the last bit of his armour, stepped in front of the others. He really was ludicrously huge, having to bow his bald head slightly under the roof. Haley would be able to get an arrow or two in, but once it got to mêlée combat...

“Leave us,” he said. “She's mine.”

The others left. Well, it was one on one, at least. Haley's gaze slid to the window.

The fighter stepped past her and unlatched it, holding it open.

“Go,” he said. “Try to make some noise. I'll tell them you made a break for it. They might look for you, but a rogue like you shouldn't have trouble staying hidden.”

“Just...” Haley paused. Asking this sort of thing never helped, but the guy had earned her trust for now. “Wh-why are you helping me?”

“Believe me, I still want that sword.” He didn't look at her. “But I might have died of heatstroke if you hadn't fired that ice arrow at me. I've got to respect that.”

~

Haley hid on the roof while the elf stepped outside the inn and looked around. They didn't see her. As she made her way down, she slipped the last few feet and hurt her ankle.

One last hope. One of her informants had mentioned that Swanhild once had a sister.

~

The night was nearing its end when Haley found her way to an inconspicuous shop building and knocked on the door. She waited, and finally the door was opened by a woman in a dressing gown. She was pretty enough to be Swanhild's sister, but her hair was greasier and she had the bad skin of someone who'd worked in numerous extreme temperature conditions. Haley drew back an arrow.

“I need to speak t-to you,” she said. “And in case you even think about t-t-teleporting out, I just b-bought a scroll of Dimensional Anchor.”

“I take it you've met my sister,” the woman said, her voice tired. “Please, put that away. I'm not like her. Step in here; it's a bit more sheltered.”

It was hardly any warmer in the hallway. Haley let the bow slacken and explained the situation in as few words as she could. When she looked at Swanhild's sister, the woman didn't meet her gaze.

“I'm sorry,” the woman said.

Haley knew then, but she still had to wait for more words.

Swanhild's sister drew a breath. “There is nothing I can do. The curse can only be broken by the caster.”

So it would end like this. Haley's head sank. Perhaps she could get a cottage somewhere and put in like several foot of insulation. Then she would just be very cold.

She looked up, because she had been fighting for so long that giving up would hurt more than keeping going.

“The t-townspeople said that you helped Swanhild d-develop the heat thief.”

The woman nodded, her face hidden. “We both had an affinity for elemental magic...”

“W-would you be able to reverse it?” Haley's voice grew stronger. “Could you create a, w-well, cold thief? Of the same strength?”

The woman's eyes were glittering now.

“I can try,” she said. “Yes, I could do it. I'll try to have it ready in another few hours.”

~

A few hours later, Haley returned and the woman led her to a second-floor door marked “Casshan Frostblossom”. Casshan opened the door to a magic workshop, sooty and with threadbare curtains against the window on the street.

“It is finished,” she said. “Lie down.”

Haley lay down on the bunk. There wasn't even a blanket. She closed her eyes and saw the firelight filtering through her eyelids.

“Stretch out,” Casshan's voice came through the void. “Try to relax.”

She managed to stretch her legs, and what little warmth she had immediately left her.

She'd waited so long that she'd started thinking that this was going to be another false alarm, when she realised she wasn't shivering any more.

Heat flowed back into all her limbs. The air felt clammy on her face and hands. She hadn't had any idea how warm it was in here.

Haley slowly got up from the bed, curling and straightening her fingers. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been able to do that. She was warm again, as if she'd been sitting in front of a fire.

When she looked down at herself, she couldn't see a difference, except that the goosebumps had gone down, but she clutched her arms to her torso where that spark of heat lived.

She weighed up a small pouch of diamonds for Casshan. It was OK, she could recuperate that amount fairly quickly. Dad would be fine. When she stepped out in the street, she had to remove two jackets to stop herself overheating.

She rejoined the others in Highthatch, and the next day they returned to the main quest.

~

She snuggled a bit closer to Elan's cape, just in case. She smelled the sun's heat on the wool, and, behind it, the scent of his skin and hair.

Elan glanced at her.

“You're not cold again, are you?” he said.

“No, I'm not.”

But he hugged her anyway, and the Mechane continued her journey toward the northern continent.

THE END