The Second Archon War: Comoedia Glacialis 3 (Patreon)

Comoedia Glacialis 2: The Dancer’s First Movement

The city of Saint Petersburg had seen better days. The cars that ran on its streets were mostly ancient relics from the days when the city had been called Leningrad, save for the newer imports from Germany and Japan that the rich drove. There was a little more food and money these days, especially with the recent uptick in oil prices after it came out that Iraq had lost several oil fields, but it was still hard for most to find a job that paid enough to feed a family. 

Still, the people there survived, grimly determined to keep on living, if not thriving. . There was a certain kind of beauty in that dogged persistence, and Anatoly smiled to himself as the helicopter came in for a landing. Then he glanced back at his prize, and grinned broadly this time. 

“Why so happy? You look like a schoolboy,” Thoma commented as they touched down. 

“Great things are about to happen, my friend,” Anatoly told his lieutenant, clapping him on the shoulder. “Great things.”

There was an ambulance waiting for them of course, along with a doctor and nurses, but Anatoly had already instructed them that their patients were not to go to the hospital. While he owned the hospital and the staff there, it being one of his more legitimate ventures, what he did not want was more people than absolutely necessary to see his prize. As such, the ambulance was to go to one of his safe houses in the city, where he could keep the matter securely under wraps. 

He rode in the front of the ambulance himself, contemplating what he would do as they bumped and rattled over the pothole-filled roads. The woman and her mysterious object were definitely important. Perhaps even an Archon. What an Archon was, exactly, Anatoly was not certain. A being of supreme and tremendous power, surely. Some called them angels, others gods, but one thing was certain: This woman could be the key to not just changing Anatoly’s destiny, but all of Russia’s. And he would not let this opportunity slip through his fingers. 

When they arrived at the safe house, a respectable looking home in a nicer part of the city in a gated community with plenty of guards, Anatoly pulled the doctor aside as Kollei and the unconscious woman were taken inside. “Well?”

“She shouldn’t be alive,” the doctor told him bluntly. “We can’t get her core temperature up, and we’ve tried everything. As it is, she’s got a core temperature of -5°.”

“I had noticed she was like ice, but…” Anatoly trailed off, and shook his head. “But she lives?”

“Parahuman. Has to be,” the doctor said with a shrug. He pulled out a cigarette, but Anatoly frowned at him, and the man lowered the lighter. 

“Nothing that could threaten her health. You’re clean until she’s awake and in good health,” Anatoly growled. “Do I make myself clear?”

The doctor coughed and tucked away his cigarette. “Should quit anyway. Bad for you. Well, we’ll do what we can, but I’m no expert on parahuman physiology.”

“And who is?” Anatoly demanded. 

“Doctor Balakin is, but-”

“Then he will come. I’ll pay handsomely,” Anatoly vowed. The implication that if he did not come, the consequences would be severe, was implied, but not spoken aloud. Anatoly was not so crass unless he needed to be. 

“Ah, yes. Well, I’d best call him and see to the patient,” the doctor agreed, looking slightly pale.

“Oh, and the other girl. How is she?” Anatoly asked as a near afterthought.

The doctor shrugged. “In excellent health. Where did you find her?” 

“In the Death Zone of Moscow,” Anatoly replied, studying the doctor's reaction.

“The Devil’s Mother, are you serious!? Did you check her!?” the doctor demanded. “If she has radiation poisoning-”

“Check her for it, and have her change her clothes,” Anatoly ordered. Then he went to make a call. He stepped out into the garden, taking out his own cigarette, imported Marlboro Reds from America, and lit one as he put his phone to his ear, a Nokia. They were better and more expensive than the Japanese phones currently, and Anatoly wanted only the best. 

After a few rings, the call connected. “Anatoly! What excuse can you offer me this time, hmm? You missed my performance again.”

A sheepish grin tugged at Anatoly’s lips, and he chuckled as he puffed on his cigarette. “Nastya, forgive me, but you know with the storm, I was very busy. I am sorry to have missed your performance as the Sugar Plum Fairy. I am sure it was quite beautiful. But I am afraid I need you.”

“But we have the party tonight, and another performance tomorrow, I simply cannot-”

“You have an understudy, Nastya. And this is important. Very important. I’ve sent a car already. You must come,” Anatoly said, his voice firm.

His sister was quiet for a few moments, then asked in a quavering voice, “Tolyan? What has happened? Is there danger? Are you in trouble?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Anatoly promised. 

“I have my gun, as always, should I-”

“Ah, no, I am sorry, Nastya. I did not mean to frighten you! No, this is a good thing. A very good thing. But, I need a woman’s touch. Someone I can trust. And I can trust no one more than my little sister,” Anatoly said, putting his hand to his head and wincing. 

The line was quiet for a moment, then a sigh. “If you are certain. There is no danger? No? Well, this must be important then. I assume you can’t say anything over the phone. I’ll take the car, but you will owe me big time for this one, Tolya.”

“You know I would never do anything to hurt you, Nastyona,” Anatoly said gently. “Please, hurry. This means a great deal for our family.”

He hung up, then smoked the rest of his cigarette. When he was nearly done, the door opened, and the doctor came out, looking baffled. “She was in the Death Zone? You’re sure?” 

“Positive. Why?” Anatoly asked, turning and frowning. 

“Her clothes are hot, save for the jacket,” the doctor said with a slow shake of his head. “We’re disposition of them and she’s being showered off by the nurses, but…not a trace of radiation in her. She’s as healthy as can be. It’s the strangest thing. If she came from Moscow, I’d expect malnutrition, radiation disease, something. She’s healthier than you or I am, I’d wager.”

“Hmm,” Anatoly took one more pull on the cigarette, then flicked it off the porch and into the snow, where it went out with a soft hiss. He pulled out his phone and sent a text to Anastasia. Bring extra clothes, for a girl about your size. He’d have to have her get proper clothes for Kollei later. Who this girl was he didn’t know yet, but she was a part of things now.

Anastasia arrived with the car half an hour later, striding up the path in a fury. Anatoly did his best to smile and throw his arms open wide for her, stepping off the porch to greet her, but she ignored that and stuck her finger in his face. 

“Anatoly Borisevich Karimosov, you scared me half to death, and for some woman!? I do not mind when you bring your girlfriends home, but Elana thinks you are dating her, and she is my costar! I will not have you-”

“Peace! Peace, Anastasia! I am not sleeping with either of them!” Anatoly protested, throwing his hands up in the air in surrender. 

His sister’s nostrils flared in anger, and her gray eyes sparked with fury. “So there are two, are there?”

Sighing heavily, Anatoly shook his head. “It is best, perhaps, if you come inside and see for yourself. Did you bring the-”

Anastasia threw a bundle at his head, which Anatoly caught only after the clothes had wrapped themselves around his face. He glanced at Thoma, who was bowing to Anatasia as she stalked into the house. 

“Miss.”

“Thoma. You are supposed to keep my brother out of trouble,” she growled, her back stiff and hair standing on end like she was a cat whose tail had been stepped on. 

“As best I can, Miss Anastasia. As best I can,” Thoma said, winking at Anatoly. 

“Thoma! You tell her, I have done nothing, nothing! It is a misunderstanding!” Anatoly protested, folding the clothes into a ball and hurrying inside after his sister. 

They found Kollei huddled on a chair in the best bedroom, her legs tucked up under her chin and a blanket wrapped around her as she stared at the still comatose woman, who now had nurses trying to hook her up to an IV as the doctor supervised. 

“It’s no good, she freezes any liquid we try to get into her,” one of the frustrated nurses said in disgust. She held up a vial, and shook it. “And her blood freezes when we try to get a sample! What am I supposed to do?!”

The doctor glanced at Anatoly, did a double take at Anastasia's furious expression, and cleared his throat. “Use a syringe and draw some, we need it for testing.”

“Don’t hurt her!” Kollei whimpered, drawing the blanket more tightly about herself. 

“They won’t, don’t worry. Doctor Takonokov is my personal physician,” Anatoly assured Kollei, putting a hand on her shoulder. She flinched, and Anastasia shot him a look so fierce he hastily withdrew his hand. 

“Ah, this is Miss Kollei and, ah, her…companion. We found them in Moscow,” Anatoly explained to his sister, who was frowning at the unconscious woman as the nurses used a syringe to extract blood from her. She didn’t react at all to it, her chest only rising and falling shallowly. 

“Moscow?” Anastasia gasped, her eyes widening. She hurried over to Kollei, who was shivering slightly, and took the girl’s hands. “Hello, I am Anastasia. Please, my brother has not been too boorish with you, has he?”

Kollei’s eyes had gone so wide she looked like a doll now, and she was holding her breath, tears filled her eyes, and she slowly shook her head. “No, I…he has been very kind. He…he took me away from…from Moscow. And…and Her. He saved both of us, and gave me a coat, but they took all my clothes, and burned them, they said they had radiation! But I don’t feel sick anymore, and I am so hungry…”

“Has no one given this poor girl something to eat?!” Anastasia demanded, looking around in outrage. 

“I gave her chocolate,” Anatoly muttered, but that earned him only a look of exasperation.

Thoma cleared his throat. “I’m cooking soup now, with some bread in the oven as well. It will be ready soon.”

“Soup?” Kollei gasped, her head whipping around. “Truly?”

“Yes, good old potato soup, with onions and sausage,” Thoma said with a smile. “A good German recipe my grandmother taught me.”

“I would eat any soup, even if it was German,” Kollei said fervently. She hesitated, then asked, “It…it does not have German in it, does it? I am not an Eater, like some…”

Anastasia looked horrified, but Thoma kept a serious expression. “It is not Long Pork, but proper German sausage. I have it imported.”

“She is not my size, Tolya, but give me the clothes, they will be better than nothing,” Anastasia said, sounding exasperated. She pulled Kollei gently to her feet. “Come, we’ll get you changed. You big brutes go see to your sausage soup, and let me handle this.”

With that, Anatoly gratefully left his sister in charge, and sat down at the kitchen table as Thoma cooked. Anatoly could cook, if he had no other choice, but he employed Thoma and his chefs for a reason. Gone were the days when he had to cook simple meals to keep himself and his sister fed. He had people for that now. 

By the time Anastasia led Kollei out, now dressed in one of her own outfits, this one a pale blue jacket over a  matching ankle-length dress, Thoma had taken the bread from the oven and was pouring the soup into four bowls. “We will have to wait a bit for the bread to cool, but we can eat now.” 

“Yes, I didn’t have time to eat after my performance, and I’m starving,” Anastasia said, smiling at Kollei, who was salivating slightly as she stared hungrily at the soup and bread. Come to think of it, she probably hadn’t had a proper meal, well, perhaps since the destruction of Moscow. 

While Anastasia and Anatoly ate with their usual delicate manners, and Thoma in his usual relaxed manner, Kollei barely even bothered with the spoon, shoveling great mouthfuls of the soup into her mouth like a starving animal. She held her spoon like it was a shovel, earning her a look of disapproval from Anatoly, and one of compassionate pity from Anastasia.

Thoma, however, put a gentle hand on Kollei’s shoulder, which caused her to snarl at him, covering her bowl with her arms, her teeth bared in rage. 

“Slow down. You will burn yourself, and make yourself sick. There’s a reason I made soup. Your stomach isn’t used to proper food. Slowly. You’ll have plenty to eat. I’ve been hungry before too, I know what it’s like. But slowly. Or you’ll make yourself sick.”

Kollei scowled at him, but she did put the bowl back down, and ate somewhat more slowly, still glaring around at the others like they might try to steal her food. 

“You really are from Moscow, aren’t you?” Anastasia said, her tone thoughtful. 

Kollei nodded, not bothering to speak as she engaged in the very serious business of eating. 

“I told you. This is important. She and that other woman, they were at the center of that storm, and the fight,” Anatoly said, nodding to Kollei. 

“Really?” Anastasia sat back, her lips pursed. “By what the doctor’s said, she has to be a parahuman. No Visions with ice powers…no, that’s not right. Alexandria just got one.”

“What?” Anatoly sat up straight, and glanced at Thoma, but the other man seemed as surprised as he was. 

“Yes, I heard during the performance, actually, backstage. It seems there’s a new type of Vision that’s begun to appear. Blue, and it seems to grant ice powers,” Anastasia explained. She hesitated, then added, “You don’t think…”

“Archon,” Thoma whispered, his own eyes wide. He licked his lips, and glanced back at the bedroom where the unconscious woman was. “Is she…?”

“I do not know. But she is important,” Anatoly said firmly. “And that thing she has…”

“Thing? What thing?” Anastasia demanded, her dinner forgotten as she stood up. Kollei hastily grabbed her bowl, sliding it over towards herself, until Thoma put up a barrier around it. Kollei squealed in shock, jerking away from the glassy red prism around the soup. 

“No. You’ll make yourself sick,” Thoma said firmly. “You keep down what you ate for two hours, you can have more.”

Kollei glared at him, then sighed and nodded. She looked down at her soup-stained dress forlornly, wiping up a bit and sticking it in her mouth. “And now I’ve ruined your beautiful clothes…”

“Those old things? They’re extras I keep at the theater in case I need to change quickly,” Anastasia said with a shrug. “We’ll get you proper clothes, don’t worry.”

That took Kollei by surprise, and she nodded slowly, looking meek and reluctant again. 

Setting aside his own food, Anatoly steepled his fingers and leaned forward. “Tell us. How did you find her? What happened? And the truth now, mind. We want to help her as much as you. If she is this…Ice Archon…we will need to know how to best help her.”

The very thought made Anatoly’s heart beat faster. He was no fool. He wouldn’t do as that idiot dictator in Iraq had. He wouldn’t try to control an Archon. That was obviously a fool’s errand. No, instead, he would make himself invaluable to her. Archons seemed to inevitably become powerful figures where they arrived, and they brought about change. Great change, for the better it seemed to Anatoly. So long as you were on their side. And he very much intended to be on the side of the woman he strongly suspected would restore Russia to glory. 

“I…I went into the bad part of the city after the storm and the battle. I had been hiding underground just outside the city, but…but as soon as I could, I went in. I had no food, and I knew I was sick. I needed medicine. My eye didn’t work anymore, and I was throwing up all the time, and I could barely walk,” Kollei admitted, touching her left eye with one hand. 

Anatoly didn’t interrupt, but he did study her face. There was nothing wrong with the eye he could see, and Doctor Takonokov would have said something if there had been anything wrong with it. 

“I was the first one in, I think. The others were all still hiding. I…I made it to the center of the city. I knew that everyone who went there died, but…but I was desperate. And something…something called me there, I think. Her voice,” Kollei whispered, her hands clutching at her chest. 

“When I found her, she was lying in the show, blood all around her. I…I didn’t have anything but a little gas and my stove, so…I made her some hot water. She woke up and drank it, and then…then she healed me.”

Tears were running down Kollei’s face, and her expression was that of religious ecstasy. “She loves me. I know it. She healed me. So…so I carried her out. I didn’t know what else to do. I went to a hiding place I knew, near the edge of the bad part, because I was too tired to go further. Then…then those men found us, and you came…”

Anatoly drummed his fingers on the table, then glanced at his sister. Her lips were pursed, but she didn’t appear skeptical. Thoma on the other hand had a somewhat patronizing expression on his face. “Well, I insist you stay here, Kollei, with the…young woman. I’ll see to it you’re taken care of.”

“You mean…I can sleep here? In this warm house? With the food?” Kollei asked, licking her lips and glancing over at the warm bread. 

Thoma sighed, then got up and sliced the bread, serving it with butter. “Don’t eat it too-”

Before he could even finish his sentence, Kollei had devoured two slices of bread, then ate a handful of butter, licking it off of her fingers. 

“Hmm, I am afraid we shall have to work on her manners,” Anatoly said with a shake of his head. She wasn’t just a peasant; the girl was half feral. How long had she been living in the ruins of Moscow? Had the radiation addled her brain?

“Well, don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her,” Anastasia said, patting Kollei’s back gently. “Enough, enough. You will make yourself sick. There will be more food, I promise.”

The only way they could have stopped Kollei from shoving several slices of bread into the pockets of her jacket would have been to physically restrain her, even if it did get crumbs everywhere. Anastasia might have called it an old jacket, and it was a couple of years old at this point, but it was still of fine wool and silk, and was not a cheap garment. 

Well, they had clothes to spare now, and Anatoly didn’t want to seem like a penny pincher. “I’ll ask you to stay here, Nastya. With Thoma and some guards to keep you safe. I will come by when I can, but there is much to be done now. Much to be done indeed.”

Anastasia looked skeptical. “But I have performances, practices, I-”

“Nastya.” Anatoly took her hands, folding them into his. “This is not just an opportunity for our family. This is something that could change the fate of all of Russia. We need to find out how to wake that sleeping beauty up. Though I don’t think it’s true love’s kiss eh? Life isn’t a fairytale.”

His sister bit her lip in that cute way she had, then glanced at Kollei, who was trying to steal more bread, only for Thoma to put a barrier up around the loaf and scold her gently. Sighing, Anastasia nodded. “Very well. And what, exactly, will you be doing?” 

“Meeting with the leading men of the city. We are going to need resources and peace between us. Others will come for her. An Archon is a powerful piece on the board,” Anatoly said, his mind already racing.

“You don’t intend to control her, do you?” Anastasia asked, horrified. 

“No, no. Nothing like that. If anything, I intend to let her control me,” Anatoly said with a dark chuckle. “My plan is to ride her coattails. But to do that, I must make myself indispensable. And if I can have forces lined up for her when she awakens…”

“But what if she is mad, or simple, or, or just…not an Archon?” Anastasia demanded. 

Anatoly considered that carefully. His sister was clever, and while he tried to keep her out of the darker aspects of his business, she knew full well that his hands were far from clean. She was a championship marksman, and had defended herself more than once with the small pistol she kept hidden on her person at all times. 

“Then I simply have a very powerful parahuman who owes me a great debt. But…come. Let me show you something, then you tell me if I am being a fool,” Anatoly said. 

He led Anastasia back to the room, where the nurses had cleaned up the sleeping woman as best they could. She had no wounds on her body, and seemed to simply be resting peacefully. Lifting up her hands, Anatoly exposed the chess piece. “Here, touch this.”

Gingerly, Anastasia reached out a hand, then hesitated. “Is it safe? You’re sure?”

“No, of course not. But I touched it, so it is safe enough,” Anatoly answered honestly. 

Nodding, Anastasia let one finger brush the chess piece. Her face immediately went slack, a look of awestruck deviation washing over it. Then she jerked her hand away, and began trembling all over. “What…what is…? Oh, Mother of God…”

“Indeed,” Anatoly agreed. “You understand now?”

“I’ll let Ludmilla know she’ll be the Sugar Plum Fairy for the next few shows,” Anastasia managed, her voice quavering. She swallowed, then nodded again. “Yes. This is…you are right, Tolyan. This is worth risking everything for.”

“Then I have meetings to attend,” Anatoly said. He waited just long enough to hug his sister and kiss the top of her blonde head, then he hurried out to the waiting car.

“Call the captains,” he told his driver. “It’s time to make another move.”

This would be dangerous, but, well, what in life wasn’t? The clock was ticking, and who knew how much time Anatoly had. Either way, he wasn’t going to simply let his pieces sit idle on the board. 

Cookie wasn’t what you would call a morning person. In point of fact, she was more than something of a night owl. That habit hadn’t really changed when she’d become a proper business woman, since game stores typically opened in the afternoon and stayed that way until after midnight. Even being a cape meant she was more likely to work the night shift than the morning shift. 

So the fact that her phone was ringing at 6:00am was especially irritating. She briefly considered zapping it so that it would stop that, but instead crawled out of bed long enough to mutter a fuzzy, “Hello.”

“Cookie!” a bright and chipper voice that was already giving her a headache said happily. 

“Venti,” she growled. “This had better be important.”

“I’m afraid it is. We need to talk. Call together all the high ranking Knights. I’ll be in Berlin this afternoon,” Venti told her. 

Cookie sat up straight, sleep draining from her body as lightning raced through her veins and her mind went into overdrive. “Is this about the blizzard?” 

“In a way. It’s about the one who caused the blizzard,” Venti said, his voice grim. 

“So…the Cryo Archon?” Cookie asked, glancing over to her laptop. She’d heard about Alexandria getting a Vision, and had people looking into that. There wasn’t a Genius Invocation card depicting the Cryo Archon, but there was a woman on the card Blizzard Strayer who she suspected was, since the Viridescent Venere card showed a silhouette that looked suspiciously like Venti. 

“Yes. I won’t say more until we’re in person. We’re driving from Warsaw, but we'll be there shortly. I had hoped she wouldn’t be next, but, well, that’s not how things worked out.” Then Venti just hung up, leaving Cookie to look at the phone in disgust. 

She didn’t go back to bed however, sending a few quick texts and an email before hastily showering and dressing herself. By the time she got downstairs, Dorothy and Hospitalar had already responded that they were on their way. Next she put in a call to Vornheim. 

“Cookie, didn’t think you’d be up this early,” he said as soon as he picked up the phone.

“Well I don’t plan on making a habit out of it, but we need to meet. Venti’s calling us all together, and he sounds serious,” she informed the old cape. 

Vornheim was quiet for a moment, then asked in a tight tone, “How bad is it?”

“Don’t know. But global blizzards and Scion throwing down in Russia can’t be good, right?” she replied. 

“Quite,” Vornheim agreed. “Very well, at headquarters then? What time?”

“He said he was driving from Warsaw, so I’d say about noon. We’ll do lunch,” Cookie told him. 

With that out of the way, Cookie put in some more calls to the government agencies, so that they’d have people at the meeting as well. Or at least, around to talk to Venti afterwards. They always had plenty of questions for him, and he always had plenty of ways to dodge them. This time seemed different though.

It was different, because Venti was early. Venti was never early, for anything. He showed up in Cookie’s office at 11:25, fully 35 minutes before she expected the others to arrive. He even knocked first, which wasn’t like him. 

“You’re early,” Cookie told him when Venti stepped into her office. Not at Fantastic Days, sadly, but rather at the swanky building that used to be Meister HQ. It was better for the professional environment, but most of the office staff looked at Cookie funny if she tried to get in a game of Genius Invocation TCG over her lunch break. 

“I put the wind at our backs, this was urgent,” Venti told her. Cookie looked him up and down, lips pursed. He wasn’t dressed in his usual traveling bum getup. Instead, he had on a green silk suit and tie, with khaki pants and a green beret on his head.

“So, this is serious?” Cookie asked, gesturing for Venti to sit down. 

However, he didn’t instead pacing over to the office window and looking out at the streets of Berlin. It was all snowed over now, with winter well and truly here. Venti put a hand to the glass, and closed his eyes. “You do not know what is to come. That is why I wished to meet with you first.”

Slowly, Cookie came to stand beside Venti, looking out at the city below silently for a few minutes. At last, she asked, “Scion?”

“Alive, I think. Though I can’t sense him at the moment. He seems to have retreated to his heaven for now. Good news, as it means he can be wounded with the tools we have at our disposal, inexpertly as they were used this time,” Venti said, turning to Cookie. 

“So, that means…?” Cookie swallowed. “Don’t tell me we have an unfriendly Archon on our hands.”

“I don’t know Dantalion well. She was the adopted daughter of Gusonyn, the first Cryo Archon. She is…well. She is a woman who has experienced great loss and grief in her life, before she inherited the title of God of Love. But I do know that she planned a rebellion against Celestia, against Heaven itself. A desire I empathized with. Even if I found her methods foolish,” Venti explained. 

“This is…a lot from you. That’s unusual,” Cookie said, her eyes narrowing. “What’s going on, Venti?”

“For you to be able to truly freely choose, you need to know what is at stake here,” Venti said firmly. “I had hoped I would have more time to shelter the children of Europe under my wings, but the time will soon come when I fear they must make a choice.”

“A choice?” Cookie asked, her heart fluttering in her stomach.

“The oldest choice,” Venti agreed. “To be free…or to be safe. Which would you choose?”

Cookie opened her mouth, then paused. She considered for a long moment, then said, “I’m going to choose you, Lord Barbatos. I am your faithful knight.”

Then she knelt, and offered the Archon her sword, hilt first. 

He touched it, and nodded gravely. “Then arise, Grandmaster. There is much work to be done.”

“I’ve sent for the wine,” Cookie agreed, getting to her feet.

Venti gave her a sad smile. “No. For this, I must remain sober.”

That was the first moment that Cookie was well and truly afraid.