The wall closed another finger's width. Melcorka knew that her insults would not work. The Ice King would not be taunted into facing her.
Melcorka stabbed her dirk into the ice, knowing that she could not carve out handholds fast enough to reach the top before the walls closed in. She had to try something else. Holding the dirk in her left hand, she grabbed Defender by the hilt and thrust it, right-handed, into the ice wall. With one blade in each hand and her feet scrabbling desperately to find minuscule indentations in the ice, she moved up hand over fist, inch by painful, muscle-tearing inch. This way was much riskier. If she slipped… She dared not think of that drop beneath her.
The rectangle of sky was closing above her. The wall opposite was only a few feet away. Melcorka knew she
