Second Sunday after Michaelmas, 1198

The halls were like cathedrals, the courtyards vast and the ramparts as if built for giants, but the frozen castle was peopled only by echoes. No light shone, no sounds of a household, even one at sleep, met the ear. Only a rustling of an unfelt breeze through the deadened ivy about the gate welcomed them.

“And yet we are not alone,” Stephan whispered as they passed through yet another churchlike hall. The doors and passageways were of such a size that they had even their mounts with them, though the steps and scant furnishings indicated owners of earthly stature. Michi nodded; they had been tailed by a furtive shadow since entering the castle. When it was pointed out to Gaspard, the magus called to the shape: “Siocán, come forward!” After a moment a small form detached itself from the deep shadows about a column and moved slowly forward: like a young dark-haired lad, only smaller, crested in crystalline wings, and naked in the cold. “What is this place?” Gaspard demanded.

Siocán stood hunched, glancing furtively about. His voice was little more than a whisper. “His castle, kind Man,” he said. “The Horned Man. My mistress he has taken.” Michi interrupted: “The Huntress? Where is she now?” Siocán answered that she was further within, and they continued forward.

They found neither the Huntress nor the Horned Man, but instead another magus. Though the man was bathed in a magical light, his face was obscured by a swirling darkness that revealed only a single huge, penetrating eye. “You are a prisoner of this realm. Give me the fraction now or be destroyed here,” he commanded. “We know of no such thing,” Gaspard replied. “If that is your answer, so be it,” the magus said, and then the Horned Man made his appearance. He stood half again the height of a tall man, on furred legs ending in cloven hooves. His head was crowned with a massive rack of antlers, and though its form showed elk-like in silhouette, even as he passed through the magus’s light his face remained shrouded in darkness, as if a shape in the night. Only the reddish glow of his eyes and the misty huff of his breath could be discerned.

The Horned man raised a hand toward Michi, and the latter was instantly encased in a sheath of ice a hand or more in thickness and as hard as granite. Gaspard called upon his magic and Stephan, upon Renfrogne, charged the magus, but one by one they were each of them encased. Madeleine appealed to the Horned Man—“why do you do this man’s bidding here in your own realm?”—but though he cast a dark look toward the magus, nonetheless she too was imprisoned in an icy grasp.

The dark-shrouded magus approached Gaspard, melting a gap in the ice to pull free the purse with the black gem. “This is Callidus’s!” the magus exclaimed. “Where is yours? Where is the Triamore fraction?” When Gaspard wouldn’t cooperate, the magus briefly examined the others. “We’ll start with this one,” he said, indicating Cyril. “He reeks of fear.” There was a rustle among the vines about a nearby column as they twisted themselves into a slender, woman-like form. The Horned Man released Cyril from his ice and the woman of vines pulled him away. The magus and the Horned Man followed.

Gaspard drew heat to melt the ice away from himself. He was about to free the others when the woman of vines returned. Just as she was about to call the alarm, Siocán emerged from the darkness, casting a glamour that lowered her into a sleepy trance. Gaspard freed his comrades. “We must find Cyril!” Stephan said. “But surely the Horned Man will freeze us again just as quickly,” Madeleine responded. “Maybe the Huntress can deal with him,” said Michi. “The little guy can lead us to her, and then she’ll help us get Cyril.”

Cautiously, wary of any more hidden guardians, they crept further into the castle. They found the Huntress in a high chamber, frozen as if of stone. “How do we free her?” Michi asked. “Do you not know?” Siocán replied. Stephan turned upon the pixie. “Tell us how to free her or I’ll kill you!” he said, roughly grabbing Siocán. “I have no key!” Siocán replied desperately. “Only the Horned Man has the key—or the Black Annis!”