F&tGM03: Lost in Lankhmar
by VStarTraveler

Summary: Soon after losing his latest love, the Gray Mouser finds himself lost in his own mixed emotions and the bottom of a bottle. When he and Fafhrd are trapped in the midst of a strange and deadly occurrence, they must find a way to save themselves and the city of Lankhmar. This story was originally written for the WA One-Word Prompt Challenge, challenge word, Lost, but has been modified slightly since that time.

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction, written totally for fun and not for profit. This interpretation of Fafhrd, the Gray Mouser, Ningauble, Sheelba, Overlord Karstak, the City of Lankhmar, and the world of Nehwon is entirely my own. They remain the property of their respective owners. All other characters are my original creations.

Author's Note: While this is a standalone story, fans of Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser may wish to read the earlier stories in this series prior to reading this story.

Mid-to-late summer in the city of Lankhmar:

It was a hot night in Lankhmar and the little man known as the Gray Mouser was lost in thoughts that he desperately wanted to lose.

She'd been gone for just over three weeks, but, despite Mouser's best efforts, the pain lingered. While their time together had been fleeting, the connection had been so strong. He knew the outcome of their brief affair had been due to her sense of duty to her father, the Overlord, rather than what she wanted, but that didn't lessen his hurt. Her father's betrayal had made it even worse, and now she was gone, leaving him lost in his tremendous heartache for her and his great desire to forget her. In the weeks since she'd left, he'd tried his best to get over her but had found that the feeling had actually gotten worse over time.

The slight man stopped on the street corner and took a swig from the bottle in his hand. The fiery liquid burned as it went down but it was a small price to pay; its numbing effects would begin soon and make the memory of her fade, if only a little and only for a little while. That had become his way in recent days, losing himself in strong drink. While he could never completely forget her even when he was under its influence, he at least lost some of the sharp intensity of the pain as the bottom of the bottle came into sight. Another swallow followed, and then another, as he worked hard to forget.

~F&tGM~

At about that same time in another part of the city:

The Duke, a big, burly man in a fine blue outfit, was ushered into a small, dark room just inside the tower. He saw a thin and balding man sitting in the shadows on the other side of a table covered by a red velvet cloth. Curiously, the center of the cloth was very brightly lit, as if by sunlight, but there were no windows or skylights visible.

Clearing his throat, he said, "Are you—"

"No need for formalities, Duke Avemar. You are here solely because you checked out with all of my sources. I'm here because I have access to what you want if you have what I want." The seated man was quite perfunctory, offering none of the expected amenities to his guest, but he did wave his hand into the light.

The Blue Duke didn't like being treated like this by a commoner, even a very rich commoner like the notorious jeweler, but he had been seeking the seemingly legendary object for many years. When the jeweler had contacted him with word of its availability, Avemar had been skeptical, but his curiosity had finally overcome his doubt and the meeting had been arranged.

Seeing that his opposite was making no effort to reveal the item, the Duke huffed and waved to his personal guard. The armed man stepped forward and placed a blue-dyed leather valise in the center of the light.

"Duke Avemar, do me the honor of opening it," said the jeweler. "Ah, toward yourself, if you don't mind."

Surprisingly, the Duke laughed. "You don't trust me, Kralor?"

"Not a whit," agreed the jeweler.

The Duke stepped forward and spun the case around toward himself. He released the hasps, opened it, and then turned it around toward Kralor. Colored lights flared in all directions as the contents were exposed to the spotlight.

The jeweler leaned forward into the edge of the light, which lit up his bald pate and cast dark shadows on his sunken eyes. A thin, round rod appeared in his gloved hand, and he used it to stir the contents of the case. As he did, a virtual kaleidoscope of reflected colors played around the little room.

When everything seemed to be in order, Kralor selected a clear gemstone the size of a guinea hen egg and looked at it through a loupe propped in place in front of his eye by his cheek and brow. Sweat beaded on his brow in the light.

Breathing shallowly, he nodded and then selected first one and then another ranging in size from that of a pea to that of a quail egg. He was smiling broadly after the first few. After viewing the twentieth, he looked over the remainder of the pile without picking up any others. Nodding, he placed eighteen of the twenty to the side, and returned the other two; after all, Kralor only dealt in the best quality stones. He closed the case and then stepped away.

This made the Duke's guard quite apprehensive, but the slightest of shakes from the big man brought the guard back in line. The jeweler returned to his seat a moment later. He pushed the valise to the side and put a square wooden box in the middle of the table. The box was a cube, approximately a foot long on each side, made of a highly polished tropical wood that shined brightly in the spotlight.

Kralor nodded and Duke Avemar stepped forward into the light.

He carefully placed his hands on the box; it was surprisingly cold to his touch. "Have you been keeping this in ice?" he asked.

"No, it came to me like that, but when you look inside, you'll understand why."

Not wanting to play silly games or guess what the jeweler meant, the Duke took the top and pulled it off. Grasping the cloth knot that concealed the item in the box, he pulled it out, and, after placing it on the table, untied the knot. As the cloth fell away, exposing the item in the light, he gasped.

"It's...it's incredible! Exquisite! But it's covered in...ice? Crystal clear ice?"

"Gemologically, it is probably the most perfect blue sapphire, perhaps the most perfect gemstone in all of Nehwon. In all my years, I have never seen its equal. Its color appears to be perfectly uniform, its shape, perfectly symmetrical, and its body to have no visible inclusions. Despite being a smooth, polished cut, it seems to shine uniformly, perfectly. In fact, it's practically unnatural in its perfection."

The jeweler admired the stone for a few moments to let his words sink into the potential buyer's consciousness. He finally added, "However, I must caution that, as I said, the gemstone came to me like that, so I have only examined it through what appears to be, as you said, crystal clear ice. My source strongly recommended that I leave it like that. It's yours, in that very condition, if you want it, for the stones I have selected on the table, but I will make no guarantees regarding any imperfections or issues the ice might conceal. Otherwise, if you choose to pass, I will deduct the fee for our meeting from among the stones chosen as we agreed, and our business will be done, permanently."

His heart racing at the thought of finally getting his heart's desire, the Blue Duke smiled. "Deal."

~F&tGM~

The next evening:

Mouser wiped the sweat from his brow and then took another drink from his jug. Swallow followed swallow, but he still couldn't put her out of his mind.

Finding little success in his efforts, he thought of his other option. The only other thing that seemed to help him forget her was women, but not just any woman.

First, considering how her father had cheated him on the reward, they had to be, if not cheap, at least not too demanding.

Second, he liked personality, but he was a stickler for looks; however, not just any looks would do. While he ordinarily preferred personable, pretty women, at the moment, that didn't matter too much since he just wanted someone to help him forget her. The woman he sought could be black, white, brown, tan, red, yellow, green, or purple, though he had to admit he had yet to encounter any women of the latter shade (and the one green girl had, based on the rather chalky taste of her skin, apparently powdered on much, if not all, of her tone). Her hair color could be black, brown, red, orange, white, silver, blue, or almost any other color under Nehwon's sun.

What she couldn't be was blonde.

He'd taken a chance on a young woman with hair of that particular coloration about a week earlier, but, during the height of their activities, he'd opened his eyes to see her and called out her name. It hadn't been intentional; it had just popped out! Of course, that hadn't been the blonde's name, so she'd slapped him, taken her belongings, and left. His cheek was still a bit tender, but the bruise had now faded to a dull yellow.

No, for the foreseeable future, blondes were too much of a risk.

As he staggered down the street on that hot summer evening, despite his building inebriation, he knew to remain on the lookout for potential enemies even as he looked for the woman who might succeed in putting her out of his mind where he himself had failed. With his eyes looking for any such foes or any such young ladies and his mind focused on trying to forget her, he completely missed seeing the first of the snowflakes floating down from the sky.

~F&tGM~

While no one knows who saw the first flakes, the first official record of the event was made by the astronomer at the Royal Observatory on the east side of the Rainbow Palace. The flakes were huge, fluffy, and beautifully delicate. The observer might not have even included them in his report of his night's observations except for the fact that there were still a few weeks of summer to come and the sweltering temperature of earlier that afternoon had felt quite appropriate for the date. Winter had been nowhere close to being on anyone's mind.

However, as midnight approached, the temperature started to fall, as did the snow. By shortly after dawn the next morning, when the more respectable Lankhmarese came out of their homes to go about their daily tasks and the children started coming outside to play in the streets if they were lucky or to beg if they weren't, much of the city was blanketed in a soft, thick layer that was growing deeper by the hour. With the cold and the wind, most streets emptied quickly.

The City of Sevenscore Thousand Smokes was soon living up to its nickname once more, as its citizens scrambled to light their fireplaces, using whatever fuel was available to provide warmth for themselves and their families.

~F&tGM~

Nehwon's sun came up that morning but it was hidden behind dark gray clouds that were even more ominous than the city's usual smog.

About that time, Fafhrd, the big barbarian with acquired big-city tastes, left the bar where he was currently, at least temporarily, employed as the chief bouncer. Taking in hand his pay for the night, he headed toward his makeshift room in the abandoned warehouse. He had appropriated it for himself after his old landlord's thugs had unceremoniously thrown his and Mouser's belongings out of the tenement apartment they had shared for several weeks. That was a few weeks ago, and he didn't know where his little friend had been staying since then.

Quite tired, the man rubbed his blond beard with its reddish cast while thinking pleasant thoughts of fluffy pillows, warm blankets, and bawdy women as he trudged through knee-deep snow. Coming from the Cold Wastes, Fafhrd was quite used to such scenes, but rarely in Lankhmar and never in the midst of the city's summer.

He was just a block from his temporary home with its flat pillows, tattered blankets, and sad lack of women when he saw one of the city patrols crossing the road in front of him. He paused to let them pass, but a command was given and the soldiers turned, lowering their spears toward him, just a few feet away. He started to back up, but heard more marching coming from behind him.

Seeing no way out, Fafhrd said, "Good morning, gentlemen. Looks like it's going to be a fine, but rather cold summer day in Lankhmar, doesn't it?"

~F&tGM~

The Gray Mouser was sleeping off his inebriation with a warm body snuggled up close to him. Long, curly hair tickled him and he wiped it out of his face. As he did, he realized that his backside was quite cold. Turning, he pulled the cover closer, only to discover, on opening one eye, that the warm body was actually not one but, rather, three cats, and the curly hair was actually a piece of straw from the thin, threadbare tick where he'd collapsed. He sneezed as he brushed it away.

He was almost back to sleep again when the door to his temporary shelter came crashing in. His sleeping companions hissed and bounded away as men entered and Mouser grabbed for Scalpel. Unfortunately, the rapier was a little further away than he remembered. Even before he could scramble to reach it, many hands were grabbing hold of him. It took a moment as they were dragging him away for him to recognize the uniforms of Lankhmarese soldiers.

"Why?" he croaked.

One of the soldiers carrying him frowned. "The Overlord has need of you."

Thoughts of the Overlord's daughter, a torture rack, and a lifetime as a galley slave on one of the grain ships all flashed through his mind.

Gods, the man must have found out after all, he thought before his world seemed to spin around and all went black.

~F&tGM~

Mouser was pitched down on the floor in a large room. The impact, or perhaps the end result of the slow metabolization of the alcohol in his body, caused him to awaken with a powerful headache. As he lay on the floor with his eyes closed while trying to get his bearings, he realized that there was someone standing next to him.

"Mouser, are you awake?" whispered Fafhrd as Lankhmar's Overlord, Karstak Ovartamortes, was being announced by the herald. Fafhrd used the toe of his boot to roughly nudge his little friend. "Mouser!"

"Regrettably," answered Mouser. "And be careful with that boot."

"Coffee for you?" asked the Overlord, much to Fafhrd's great surprise. "And get the little one a lot. He looks like he's going to need it. Help him up. Gently. And take him to the chamber if he wishes."

Fafhrd and the Overlord stood staring at each other as Mouser used the facility and cleaned his face. He was walking, somewhat unsteadily, on his own as he emerged from the chamber room.

"Gentlemen, I've invited you here today due to the strange happenings that are affecting our city."

"Huh?" asked Mouser, looking quizzically at Fafhrd.

His friend laughed. "The snow?"

Mouser still looked puzzled, but the Overlord pointed out the window, where huge, fluffy flakes were wafting down by the thousands. Mouser's look of puzzlement remained, but now he was interested. "Did I sleep for a few months?"

"No," said the Overlord. "The calendar says it is still summer, but something is happening and it puts our city at great risk. With the weather worsening, my advisors tell me the freezing temperatures and snow threaten to destroy the crops in our fields to the south. This could throw our entire city-state, and perhaps much of Nehwon, into great disorder."

Fafhrd looked to Mouser. "Of course, if everyone freezes first, that won't be an issue."

The Overlord sighed. "Sad to say, but that's true. There are already reports of people being found frozen to death in the streets in parts of the city, and it is spreading by the minute. We need to find the cause of this strange occurrence and put an end to it before it's too late."

"Ahem, that sounds like a brilliant plan," agreed Mouser, with more than a hint of sarcasm.

Fafhrd laughed and agreed. "Lankhmar isn't exactly a small place, so, assuming it's not natural and that we could actually do something about it, where do you plan to start looking?"

"Oh, we have a place in mind," said the Overlord. "Come."

He led them to a set of double doors that his guards pushed open to reveal a large balcony covered with drifting snow. Wading through it into the rapidly falling flakes, he moved to the rail and pointed.

It was hard to see in the distance through the falling snow, but somewhere southeast of the Rainbow Palace was what appeared to be a big spike pointed up at the sky at a slight angle. Both Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser were surprised at the sight. Mouser, thinking of that part of the city, nodded and said, "Yeah, I guess that thing would be as good a starting point as any."

Karstak replied, "My advisors told me that they detected that thing a few hours ago and that it has been growing by the hour. They believe it may be the center of the storm, too, based on what our outriders have told us. The counselors believe that spike is what they are calling the 'epicenter of the event' somewhere around the southeast corner of the Noble District. The snow is big and fluffy here and the wind is fairly calm, but I've been told that it is quite biting there, with the wind getting stronger as one gets closer to that area. I need you two to go find out what is causing all of this and then put and end to it."

"Why us?" yawned Mouser.

The Overlord looked serious. "Because my sources tell me that the two of you have been known, or at least, alleged, to have been able to get into places and do things about which others might only dream. My daughter told me of your recent, ahem, actions, too. She said you were both quite resourceful and that she would trust her life to either of you. Therefore, I must do the same and trust you on this."

But after what you did following those 'actions,' why should we trust you? wondered Mouser, but he, regretfully, held his tongue.

"You have thousands of men. Why not send them?" asked Fafhrd.

"If I thought they would have even a remote chance of doing what is needed, I would. Unfortunately, they don't have the knowledge or skill to accomplish it. To make matters worse, I put out the call for volunteers and only two men stepped forward."

"Two?" Mouser laughed. He paused, thinking. "Still, if they're stupid enough to volunteer, there's no way you should consider using them."

Karstak looked down his nose at Mouser. "Perhaps not, but they're two of my most trusted men, so I've sent them on to locate the spike. My men have your weapons, and my quartermaster has been instructed to have cold weather gear and equipment made ready for you. You may choose any of that or whatever else you think you might need." Looking intently at both of them, he added, "If you succeed, you will be greatly rewarded. If you don't, rewards probably won't matter to you or to any of the rest of us."

~F&tGM~

Soon thereafter, two shapes bundled in winter clothes and carrying large packs were fighting their way through the snowy streets of Lankhmar. A group of six similarly clothed but less burdened individuals were going in front of them trying desperately to clear a path through the snow. All eight men were connected by a rope to keep anyone from getting separated in the fiercely blowing and anachronistic summer blizzard.

Fafhrd was next to last in the column and his thoughts were churning about what they would be able to do when they reached their destination. The Overlord's advisors had offered no clue as to the cause of it all, but they all agreed that it appeared to be centered on the giant stalagmite-like spike; indeed, conditions had gotten much worse as they neared the spike. Those same advisors had also agreed that failure on Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser's part would likely result in death for all of them, and, possibly, the entire city.

As he trudged onward, two tugs on the rope behind him caused him to turn to see Mouser struggling to close the distance between them. He pulled the rope ahead of him, once, twice, to pass the signal forward.

"I think our guides are lost," shouted Mouser, trying to be heard above the howling winds. "We just crossed into the Marsh District. That statue on the corner is between the Temple and the Marsh...we need to be going back." Mouser looked around but couldn't see anything through the blowing snow, so he closed his eyes for a moment and then said, "That way. Five or six blocks, I think."

Knowing that his little friend knew the streets of the city as well as any person alive, Fafhrd nodded. They moved forward until they reached the men ahead of him. The men had grouped together for warmth while waiting on the team they'd been assigned to deliver.

"We've gone too far south," boomed Fafhrd. "Back this way." He looked at Mouser for confirmation while he pointed.

Mouser signaled a bit to the right of Fafhrd's direction and they were off again.

Street by street, they struggled through the chest deep snow. Like migrating geese, the men in the front had to swap twice as the leader became too tired to continue. Fafhrd thought he heard grumbling from them, but with the howling wind, he really couldn't be sure. Even with their many layers of clothing and the outer fur robe, the wind cut through and chilled their bones.

They had to stop a few more times to change directions as Mouser tried to help them find their way. Finally, one of the men ahead called, "There! I think I see it!"

Unable to even see the man ahead of him, Fafhrd felt the tug and continued forward after the men, but he suddenly realized that the tether that had connected them was no longer taut. Pulling it back, he saw that it had been cut clean. Reaching behind his shoulder, he drew Graywand, his great sword, and held it before him as Mouser reached him.

"Our guides have either run away or been taken away." Fafhrd held up the cut rope.

Mouser looked at it and nodded. He was about to draw Scalpel, his rapier, but he stopped, pointing to a light, barely visible through the flying snow, that was moving toward them. As it neared, the light separated into two, and then several more, very tiny lights appeared next to one of them.

Fafhrd lowered Graywand as two almost identically robed figures stopped in front of them. The center of the cowl of the smaller one was black and faceless, even with the light on the tip of the creature's staff shining into it. The inside of the cowl of the larger one was equally dark when lit by his staff, but it contained seven small lights, flitting around as if fireflies within the field.

"Good! You have come as we expected," said Ningauble of the Seven Eyes, with a deep masculine voice. "Our spies in the palace told us of your assignment and we, thinking of your own welfare as well as our own, have come with warning. Many times, there have been—"

Sheelba of the Eyeless Face waved its hand and cut off the babbling wizard. With an androgynous voice, Sheelba said, "Strange magics are behind this, opening a connection to another world. You must destroy the source and close the link."

"Yes, that link must be closed," agreed Ningauble as at least two of his eyes projected from the blackness to peer around the edge of his cowl at his smaller wizardly competitor. "We have brought items that might help you in your effort. This one comes from a strange world I've visited on more than one occasi—"

Shaking its cowl, Sheelba interrupted once more as it handed Mouser a yellow rod that was similar to the red one that Ningauble was still withholding from Fafhrd. "Here. These will create intense heat, but only in one direction, and only for a limited time. Use wisely."

Without waiting for questions or thanks, Sheelba turned and walked back into the blowing snow. The being disappeared almost immediately.

Seeing the other wizard go, Ningauble reluctantly swallowed his speech and handed his rod to Fafhrd. "Good luck, my boy. And to you, too, Mice."

Fafhrd looked at his scowling little friend after watching his advisor disappear in a different direction. Putting Graywand back in place and then putting the rod in a pocket, he said, "Strange magics."

Mouser shook his head as he pocketed his own rod. "Ya' think?"

~F&tGM~

Nearing the base of the giant cone, they saw two torches in the distance. Slogging through the snow, they soon reached the men carrying them.

"You're the men Overlord Ovartamortes promised to send?" asked one.

"Unfortunately," quipped Mouser, without volunteering their names. "The others were separated from us, somehow."

"Well, hopefully, they'll turn up soon. I'm Captain Delmar and this is Sergeant Klaous. He sent us ahead to learn what we could."

"What have you found?" asked Fafhrd.

"It's like a giant ice stalagmite reaching for the sky. The snow's falling really heavily here and it's packing down. It looks like it compacts and turns to ice after a while. We're pretty sure this is Avemar's home, the Blue Duke, We've tried to find a way inside, but it's completely covered, encased in the ice. We tried to chip and tunnel our way in, too, but it's coming down too fast and the icicle is growing quickly."

"What's that over there?" asked Mouser, pointing to a dark shape in the distance.

Klaous answered, "Hmm, I think that may be a watch tower still sticking up out of the ice."

"We better get there quickly then," replied Mouser. "It's hard to tell from here but it looks like the ice is creeping up the side of it."

Indeed, as they trudged through the snow toward it, they saw more of the tower's height being enveloped by the ice by the minute, but the swirling blizzard made it impossible to see clearly.

"We better go, if we're doing this," shouted Fafhrd to his friend as he opened his pack. He strapped crampons on the soles of his boots and tied a rope around himself as Mouser slipped into a set of the spikes for his own boots. Fafhrd put a large rope around his neck and left shoulder so it wouldn't interfere with drawing Graywand, and then took what looked like two spiked ice axes in a gloved hand.

Looking at Delmar and Klaous, Fafhrd called, "We'll tie the rope off and drop it down to you once we get inside the tower. You can pull yourselves up and come join us if you can, but the way the ice is growing, we can't wait."

Delmar nodded. "Go! We'll follow, if possible."

Mouser was tied off with him by this time, so Fafhrd took one of the ice axes in each hand and started using them to pull himself and his little friend up the side of the frozen upturned icicle. The big barbarian swung an axe downward, embedding its serrated spike up to the handle, before taking a step and doing the same with the axe in his other hand. Mouser watched closely from a few feet behind, timing his steps with those of Fafhrd, so they progressed together.

About two-thirds of the way up to the tower, the incline steepened, so Mouser pulled his own ice axe out and used it as an anchor as Fafhrd took a step. When the big man was steady, Mouser would reanchor himself again, and Fafhrd would use the opposite axe once more. It was slow going, but they continued upward without falling or losing their hard won progress on the dangerous slope.

About fifteen feet from the tower, Fafhrd saw that the ice was right below the observation landing that circled the tower, just below its roof. He was about to call out to Mouser about their imminent success when he heard a loud crack followed by a rumble that he felt through his feet. A section of the compressed snow came sliding around the side of the tower where it had broken off above. With no time for explanations, Fafhrd leaned to his left, pulling the trailing rope with him. Mouser shifted in response and the slice of ice missed him by less than a foot.

"Thanks!" shouted Mouser. "That would have broken my leg, or worse, if it had hit me."

Another rumble followed and then what sounded to Fafhrd like the grating of stone on stone. "You're welcome!" he called back to his friend. "That's not the end though. The ice is leaning on one side of the tower like it's going to crush it. We've got to hurry or there won't be a tower left to enter. Go!"

Using the axes as quickly as they could, Fafhrd soon reached the rail around the landing and threw and arm over it. Reaching back, he grasped the rope and pulled Mouser upward as the little man used his crampons and axe to help as much as he could. On reaching the rail, Mouser threw a leg over and landed on the landing. He quickly embedded his ice axe in the thick snow buildup on the landing, and, holding it with one hand, helped pull Fafhrd over the rail.

They quickly scampered part of the way around the circular platform until they reached the door, but by then, the grating sound was nearly continuous. Fafhrd braced his feet against the rail and pushed against the door to the tower as Mouser used his axe to try to cut his way down to the latch. The door broke inward and both men quickly slid through the hole, finding themselves on a little landing at the top of a spiral stair going down. The wood treads were attached to the outer wall and to a mastlike pole in the center of the tower.

Even as Fafhrd was taking his first step down the staircase, the rumbling and grating noises were intensifying. "We better—"

A loud cracking noise in the trusses in the conical roof above let them know that the situation was getting worse. One of the wood dowels holding the truss together sheared and that truss started to crumple.

"Go!" finished Mouser as he pushed the big man forward. Splinters, parts of the wood slats, wood roof shingles, and chunks of ice started falling around them as they raced down around the first spiral. The stair felt as if it was shaking as they ran, but Mouser realized it wasn't just from the roof collapsing overhead. Large cracks were forming in the stone wall on side of the tower facing the tip of the icicle, and pieces of stone and mortar were falling out as the trembling continued. "Run, Fafhrd!"

More cracking noises above and the sound of stonework falling at the top of the tower announced the collapse of the roof. The wood platform and spiral stair tread caught the first of the falling pieces, but as larger chunks of stonework fell, the connections to the center pole began to break, and the treads themselves began to collapse.

"Run, little man!" replied Fafhrd to his friend as they made another round going down the tower. They could see the wall starting to buckle inward, pushing on the stair treads as they went downward.

The rumbling sound of the collapse was getting louder as they went, and Mouser was feeling little pieces of debris hitting the back of his hooded coat and backpack as he ran down the steps. It was getting darker by the step and the dust was getting thicker, too, to the point that he could no longer see, when something slammed into him, throwing him forward.

"Ay!" he cried, expecting to tumble down the rest of the steps or be crushed as more chunks were hitting him, but he was surprised when he felt a pair of strong hands grab the front of his coat and swing him around sideways. He smashed into something hard and then felt something slam into his back.

Large pieces of rubble blew out of the base of the tower as did an even thicker cloud of dust. Mouser coughed repeatedly only to be surprised as he heard Fafhrd shielding his back doing the same. When the dust finally started to settle, Mouser realized how dark it really was. He coughed what he hoped was one last time when he saw a red glow and a torch catch fire.

Fafhrd was putting away his tinderbox as he handed Mouser one of the torches. "We better get these spikes off our feet before we fall. It's as cold as the Cold Wastes here, but there doesn't appear to be ice or snow here inside the building."

"What about when the roof collapses on us, like that tower?" asked Mouser.

"I don't really think it will. The big icicle up there looks like it covers the whole building, so I think it's bridging over it." Holding his torch up high, Fafhrd added, "Of course, I could be wrong."

Mouser rolled his eyes at his friend and huffed as he, too, looked around. "Do you have any idea what we're seeking? Nothing's jumping out at me."

"Let's hope that remains the case," laughed the barbarian. "As for what, 'strange magics,'" he added in his best imitation of the Faceless Wonder. "As for when, it better be soon before we freeze to death." He pointed his torch toward a frozen body curled in the fetal position in front of them.

"Hazard pay," remarked Mouser with a nod. "When it comes time to collect our reward, we've got to stress exactly how dangerous all this is and ask for a lot. A whole lot. You know that bastard, the Overlord, will try to be as stingy as last time and cheat us out of every last coin, if he can."

"True," agreed Fafhrd, "but we have to solve this mess and get out of here if we're ever going to collect it."

Several rooms later, they'd passed several more frozen bodies, but as they turned a corner, they found an upright body, positioned almost as if running, with a frightened look back over his shoulder. He was partially encased in ice. Two more were in similar poses in the next room, which appeared to be some type of antechamber. The eyes of both bodies were turned toward a large double door.

"Those guys weren't looking back over their shoulder in what looks like abject terror like that without a reason," said Mouser. "You think this could be it?"

Fafhrd shrugged slightly as he lit another torch. "Let's go see."

Opening the door, the barbarian lifted his torch high to illuminate part of what appeared to be the main hall. Several more iced-over statue-like bodies were visible in the area, all seeming as if fleeing from something on the other side of the room. Holding his torch up like Fafhrd, the Gray Mouser looked that way to see more frozen, upright bodies and what appeared to be a pulsing blue glow coming from near the center of the room.

The two men quickly shrugged out of their heavy packs and, carrying swords and torches, were over half way toward the blue light when Fafhrd held up his hand toward a large, iced figure. Dressed in blue with a white stripe on the side of each pant leg and a white scarf tied around his neck, the gray haired man was looking over his shoulder in horror like a number of those before him.

Fafhrd whispered, "If I'm not mistaken, that's the Blue Duke. From what I've seen in the past, the man had no sense of style beyond blue and he kept that up even to his dying breath." He shook his head in disgust.

Mouser was about to reply when a strong but feminine voice called out, "I see your lights, my visitors! Come, join me."

The two men advanced slowly, separating as they went to leave space between them. When they drew close enough, the torch light revealed a beautiful bluish-gray-skinned woman with blue eyes and blonde hair wearing a dark blue silk dress that looped over her right shoulder. The thin summer dress clung to her form, revealing her to be quite shapely and, apparently, quite cold. Frost flecked her hair and eyebrows. Drawing the most attention, however, was the large, heart-shaped blue sapphire that rested in her lovely cleavage, suspended around her neck by a very delicate, twisted gold filigree. The gem itself appeared to be quite exquisite, but the pulsing nature of its glow revealed it to be far from natural.

"To whom do we have the honor of speaking?" asked Fafhrd. "Lady Avemar, perchance?"

The woman smiled, revealing perfect white teeth through her blue, frost-covered lips. "Avemara, as she calls herself, is still here, but not for much longer. I am Ozrus the Cold, and welcome to my new realm."

Ignoring the woman, Mouser looked at Fafhrd and said, "Ozrus the Bold. That's not ringing any bells for me. You?"

"Ozrus the Cold!" roared the woman as her hand moved up toward the pulsing gemstone.

"I seem to recall a mythical gem called the 'Heart of Ozrus' or Rhinoceros or something like that from a tome I've read," said Fafhrd, also seemingly ignoring the woman.

"Mystical! Not mythical," snarled Ozrus. "It is with much magic and great forethought that I finally find myself here."

"Magic maybe," agreed Mouser, "but it looks to me like your forethought leaves a lot to be desired. I would have thought you'd have picked warm and sunny and left the snow behind."

"My choice was limited, true. Trapped on my own plane, I had to allow myself to be 'defeated' by two strange wizards from another realm. The magic was used to allow them to take a facsimile of my heart with part of my essence with them to their own plane, thereby giving me a way of leaving my own. Unfortunately, strange though they were, they were quite intelligent; they did something to entrap my false heart so I could not find my way into your world."

"Let me guess: two wizards in black hooded robes that had no need for facials?" Mouser sighed in frustration.

"You know of them? Of course, they probably sent you here. Yes, they trapped me, but they bickered constantly and could not agree on who would possess my heart, so one of the magics that I used on it kicked into play. If they could not agree, then neither would possess it and my heart passed from one to another until it came to one so greedy and so stupid that it was finally released. He himself put my heart over that of his greatest love, and I forced her, as my first act here, to destroy him. Now, while my body cannot cross the planes, my mind can and I will now make this plane my realm using this creature as my new body. My power builds as my essence continues to cross the void between our worlds."

"So, you're really little more than a cheap land baron in need of new properties? Maybe, Ozrus the Sold?"

"You will pay for your insults, little man," said the woman as she took the pulsing blue gem in her right hand. She held out her left toward Mouser, and, spreading her fingers wide, released a mighty blast of ice crystals directly at him.

Mouser, as lithe as ever but encumbered by all of the winter layers, dived out of the way. He landed with something of a thud rather than rolling as intended. That allowed the edge of the blast to catch him, causing him to be chilled to the bone, even much more so than the frigid temperatures they had already encountered. She moved her hand toward him again and started to spread her fingers once more.

"Boo, Mouser! Not Ozrus the Sold!" laughed Fafhrd. "With an aim like that, it must be Ozrus the Old!"

The hand swung toward the barbarian and the spreading fingers foretold the icy blast that followed. Fafhrd tipped over a table and ducked behind the thick wood just before the concentrated frost hit.

Mouser was ready again as she slowly shuffled forward to catch Fafhrd when he rose from behind his wooden fortress. "No fair! That was much weaker than mine! Each blast is taking its toll. Ozrus the Tolled."

Fafhrd looked at his friend and was about to tease him for yet another weak contribution to the repartee, but the icy woman had turned her face back toward the Gray Mouser once more. She extended her hand, which was now trembling as her fingers started their deadly spread.

"What? Are you giving out already? I dare you!"

The blast came again, but it was much weaker still than even the prior one, and, this time, Mouser had no trouble avoiding it. As he popped up, he shouted, "Resist, Lady Avemara! It has grown tired attacking us and its hold on you is weak!"

Fafhrd followed with a taunt of his own. "Ozrus, the-about-to Fold! It has killed your husband and your family, Lady Avamara, but you can make it pay! Resist! Remove the gem!"

Her arm aquiver, she had pointed it back toward Fafhrd, but instead of the deadly spread, her fingers were now clenched as her right hand continued to clutch the gemstone. Her eyes squeezed closed as tightly as her balled fist.

"Fight it!" called Mouser as he moved toward her.

With a cry, the woman wrenched the gem away from her body, breaking the thin gold filigree that had held it in place. She opened her hand and threw the stone on the frosty floor as she collapsed, falling directly into Mouser's arms.

Fafhrd was moving at the same time as Mouser. The red rod was out of his pocket and he was twisting the end to remove the cap. When he did, a flame caught at the end and it immediately turned to a short but flaming plasma jet. Swinging it around, Fafhrd stabbed the frosty gem with the roaring plasma.

The sapphire heart and the rod both exploded, sending the barbarian skidding spread-eagled across the floor. Both torches were blown out, and a fine blue dust settled over the room.

"Fafhrd! Are you okay?" called Mouser as he rubbed the frosty woman to warm her.

"A minute, my friend, to let the stars resume their normal courses in the sky, rather than spinning around me as they are now!"

"The stars are old, Fafhrd, taking what courses and time that they will. This lady, on the other hand, won't be doing either if we can't warm her soon."

Still reeling, Fafhrd relit his torch and then peeled off his outer robe. "Put her in this and then take your clothes off and get in there with her. Your body heat might save her. I'll wrap these things around the two of you and then see it there's a way to get us out of here."

"Yikes!" cried Mouser as he wrapped himself around her while wearing only his underwear. "She really is cold!"

"Then you better do what you can to warm her if you want to save her. Say, you didn't use the rod that Sheelba gave you. Where is it?"

"I was planning to hold onto it," chattered Mouser as he continued to snuggle with Lady Avemara, trying his best to warm her while keeping himself from freezing.

"Mouser, my friend, when a wizard gives you something to use for a job like this, it is your duty to make use of it. Otherwise, they may be less willing to do so next time when they could be giving you something that you'll really need!"

~F&tGM~

Some time later, Fafhrd returned with Captain Delmar, Sergeant Klaous, and their guides from earlier in the day, who had finally found their way to the spike. The woman had not regained consciousness, but she had started to resume something of a more normal color.

"I used your flame rod to cut a tunnel from the upper level where the ice wasn't so thick," explained Fafhrd as the men carried the still wrapped Mouser and the woman atop the table that Fafhrd had overturned earlier. "The sun is shining and most of the snow will be gone by nightfall. This icicle, on the other hand, will probably take quite some time to melt."

As they made their way out of the late Duke's home, Mouser couldn't help but look at Fafhrd's backpack. For some reason, it looked much fuller than it had earlier.

~F&tGM~

About two weeks later in the Silver Eel Tavern:

"Mouser! Join me, my friend!" called an already-seated Fafhrd with his tankard raised in salute.

The Gray Mouser made his way over with a drink of his own.

"So how goes your project?" asked the big man. "Are you making progress helping Lady Avemara get her house and household in order?"

Mouser nodded. "A great deal, actually. She's put me in charge of it all, so I'm hiring almost all of her new staff, getting contractors to make the repairs, and arranging purchases of many of the household items that didn't make it through the frost and the meltdown that followed. Of course, since the Overlord chose to cheat us on the reward—"

"Now, Mouser, you had to know that would happen. It had happened before, so you knew it was his nature."

Mouser appeared to be fuming as he mimicked the Overlord. "'I thank you for your service on behalf of all of the citizens of Lankhmar. And here, please take these few paltry coins, which is what's left of your reward after we deducted the cost of the equipment that you had to have to save us all.' Seriously, I thought it would be different this time. Since it's not, I find myself forced to skim a bit off of the top of each transaction for her ladyship. That way, the two of us will come out of this mess with at least some small token of remembrance of it, since it was, in actuality, her husband who got us into it in the first place."

Fafhrd leaned closer to his friend and discreetly pushed a small but bulging pouch over to him. "Exactly. Knowing that the Overlord would do his best to cheat us blind despite our efforts for him, and knowing that the Blue Duke had been responsible, I made sure to fill my backpack with some choice items from among his treasures while you warmed, or warmed up to, Lady Avemara. Here's your share."

Mouser hefted the little bag as discreetly as it had been passed to him, and he smiled. "Thank you, my friend. Perhaps we won't come out of this so poorly after all. The Overlord, on the other hand..."

Fafhrd's eyes narrowed. "Mouser, what have you done?"

"Oh, nothing. Yet. But I have an idea that will make the Overlord pay."

Fafhrd laughed as he raised his tankard to his friend. "To bold ideas! And to those who have the temerity to see them through."

Mouser clinked his mug against the barbarian's. "We'll see."

Fafhrd leaned close, "So, since the Overlord cheated us, has the Lady Avemara bestowed any sweet rewards for your services?"

Mouser grinned but shook his head. "No, nothing but the payment agreed. She is, after all, a grieving widow who seems to have truly loved her deceased, though imbecilic, husband. 'Here, dear, why don't you put on this possessed gemstone. It will do wonders for your skin tone.'"

Fafhrd laughed at the little man's impersonation of the late Duke, but then looked at him carefully. "You seem much happier, and much less intoxicated, than you were prior to our icy adventure. I'd almost started to worry about you."

"Time heals old wounds and lost hearts, Fafhrd."

Fafhrd's tankard slammed down on the table. "I knew it! There's a new woman!"

"While I hired most of the household help, Lady Avemara hired her own new chief lady-in-waiting." Mouser smiled. "Mistress Olinia and I have hit it off rather well."

"Tell me about her," said Fafhrd.

Mouser thought for a moment before replying. "Well, she's blonde…"

The End

Follow-up Notes: Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser is still a very fledgling new category here on FF, so your time reading this story is greatly appreciated. If you enjoyed the story and would like to read more new adventures of our friendly rogues, please take a moment to leave a brief review or comment. Those and your follows or favorites will be greatly appreciated, too.

While this story was originally entered in the WA One-Prompt story challenge, the allowable length caused me to cut out a few parts. I've restored some of those parts since that time, hopefully improving the story in the process.