Hot and Cold Running Thrills
It had been a very rough night. None of the five had slept much, even Lalli, but none had spoken much, either. They were all concerned about Tuuri, as she’d been like a sleepwalker since they came back to the common room; and they’d all felt the urge to stay in physical contact with the others. Eventually, they’d wound up in a weird mound of bodies, blankets and pillows, half supine, half upright, but all together.
It was actually some time before any of them noticed the subtle but horrifying change that had come over the room sometime during the night: the doors were gone. Where the doors had been were blank spaces of wall no different than those behind any of the bits of furniture they hadn’t already shifted.
This was very nearly the last straw for Tuuri. It was so serious that Lalli came over to her as she hyperventilated, wrapped her in his skinny arms, and murmured to her as though they were children again, slowly rocking her back and forth.
Reynir frowned. He was a generally sunny and positive person, but this--this mindwarping stuff, and what it was doing to Tuuri, were getting him positively angry. There are many reasons not to anger a mage, even a half-trained mage of the Icelandic school, and Reynir was about to demonstrate one.
Glowing blue fingers traced out a circle on the carpet, a circle that lingered. “Mikkel, get everyone in the ring,” Reynir ordered. When that was done, he drew another circle all around the first ring, and then started scribing individual runes in the interval. The last rune glowing in its place, Reynir made a tugging motion, and the rune circle began to spin.
Tremors began to shake the room as the runes spun on, and when they finally came to rest, a wave of blue energy burst from the ring, washing across every corner of their prison, and a section of the wall fell open.
*
It seemed the silly Icelander had finally managed to get angry. Lalli distinctly approved, as he had long since passed mere anger himself. Not waiting for the others--he was still their scout, after all--he left the ring and moved into the hallway Reynir’s magic had exposed.
It only took a moment for Emil to follow. Even knowing it was futile, he slowly and carefully spoke Sigrun’s paramount admonition to his Finn friend. “No... one... is... alone... Lalli.”
Lalli paused then, as though he’d actually understood Emil. Then he shrugged and moved on again, but this time he gestured for Emil to follow. The Cleanser and the Mage walked down the hall together.
*
Mikkel was also starting to get angry, and the walk down the corridor did nothing to diminish that. Along the sides were paintings that changed when you looked at them from different angles, and statues set behind cleverly curved glass so that their faces seemed to follow your progress down the corridor. Childish stuff all, the kind usually reserved for carnivals and funhouses, but for someone in Tuuri’s delicate state, someone that the responsible party or parties had deliberately worked up into such a delicate state, it could prove disastrous.
Emil and Lalli awaited them after they rounded one more corner. “The floor up ahead,” Emil said breathlessly, “it moves. We didn’t want to be carried off without you.”
All together then, the five stepped onto the conveyor.
*
“Sigrun!” With that cry of joy, Tuuri broke from their knot and flew toward the doorway and the beckoning form of their absent leader. As she passed between the lintels, a sickly green glow pulsed out from them, snaring her like a bug on flypaper. Tuuri screamed in agony as the flux washed over her, over and over and over again.
This last was finally more than Lalli could stand. Snarling, he leapt in front of the others, thrusting his hands forward in a very specific way. Do this only as your last resort, Onni had once warned him, for you risk your all with this blow. Lalli didn’t care, though, not with Tuuri hanging there in torment. A blindingly bright stream of blue energy shot from his hands, winding this way and that through the interval until it finally hit the doorway.
Emil was the first back on his feet. “Lalli!” he yelped, moving to his friend’s prone form. Lalli was still breathing, but only just, and his eyes were rolled back in his head so that only the whites showed. After a second, Reynir went past where Emil cradled Lalli to where Tuuri lay groaning.
Neither was fit for anything more, meaning Emil and Reynir were the only ones who could go forth from here...
