Winter Spell

by Claire M Banschbach

  “It is,” Dorian said in his quiet voice, a smile flickering just out of sight. Ilka softened and returned his almost smile.

  Diane cut off a piece of bacon, glad to see things seemed to have smoothed out a little between Dorian and his family. Though it could have just been the absence of Endre. It hurt more than she thought it would to hear Dorian and August talk about the war, even if it helped them through whatever they held against each other.

  “When are you leaving today?” Ilka covered another plate and set it aside.

  They all looked at each other, and Diane’s own reluctance to resume traveling showed in her companions’ faces.

  “I suppose it will depend on how my leg is?” She turned a questioning glance to Dorian.

  He nodded, rising to place his empty plate in the wash tub.

  “How’s your arm?” Diane asked, suddenly remembering the horrible bruising and swelling.

  Ilka looked up sharply. “You were hurt too?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Dorian frowned a little at Diane and she gave a little wince of apology. She hadn’t realized he was hiding the bandage from his mother, like he’d tried to hide the injury from them. He rolled his eyes a little and pulled up his sleeve as Ilka went over to him.

  He’d left the bandage off. The swelling had diminished, and the black and purple bruises were already fading to a greenish color in spots. At least a few days of healing had been compressed into one night. It gave Diane hope for her leg.

  August narrowed his eyes as he looked at the injury, seeing something else Diane hadn’t.

  “You keep your scars?” he asked, a slight edge under the curiosity. Diane looked closer, finally seeing scars tracing their faint way across the bruised skin.

  Dorian glanced down at his arm, opening and closing his fist a few times before nodding. The look on August’s face suggested it wasn’t much of an answer. Ilka gently took Dorian’s arm and looked over it.

  “Dorian is as reckless a healer as he was a warrior.”

  But pride laced her words.

  Dorian kept his gaze on his arm. August nodded slowly, as if that meant something to him. Diane finally understood August’s disbelief the day before. Dorian showed just as much experience as August when battling the remmiken—yet healers were not usually trained in combat, human or faery.

  “Ocean faeries keep their scars,” Tonya said, a confused frown in the corner of her mouth.

  “We don’t always here on the land,” August replied. “My father was forced to keep the scars on his face because the king at that time thought he might turn to the Nameless Ones for what he’d done to save my mother.”

  Tonya shivered, and a chill scurried down Diane’s back at the mention of the Nameless Ones. Clearly, the ocean also had faeries who turned to evil and used their magic to harm rather than help.

  “We think them a symbol of pride,” Tonya said.

  “Guess we’re a little more vain here.” Dorian rubbed his hand over the skin. Diane caught a faint shimmer around his hand and thought she might have imagined it, but the bruising turned a little lighter and more yellow.

  “You ready?” He looked to her.

  Diane reluctantly finished the last of her potatoes and bacon. She nudged the plate out of the way and turned sideways on the bench, bringing her leg up onto the wood.

  “I suppose.”

  Dorian took his bag from where he’d left it on the counter the night before and crouched beside her. He was able to use both hands this time to undo the bandage, gently tugging it away from the wound.

  Diane hissed a short breath as it tore free with a quick jab of pain. The bruising and swelling around the wound had faded, much like Dorian’s arm. The wound itself remained closed in the neat line of stitches, the skin already looking like it was trying to knit back together.

  Dorian gently washed the cut again and spread more ointment before wrapping a fresh bandage around her leg.

  “I think it should be fine to walk on today.”

  Diane pushed her bottom lip out into a pout. “You sure?”

  His green eyes twinkled with laughter that barely showed on his face.

  “Unfortunately, yes. And I’m afraid I’m not as chivalrous as August. I won’t carry you for the next fifteen miles.”

  “No?” Diane pressed a hand to her chest. “What good are you, then?”

  The laughter shone again as he stood.

  “Fifteen?” August raised an eyebrow. “You might be out of luck, princess. Although I do seem to remember a conversation about you not wanting to be helped too much.” His grin puckered one half of his face.

  Diane smiled. “Some friends I picked.”

  Another pleased smile spread across Tonya’s face at the word “friend,” and Diane’s heart again went out to the faery.

  “Shall I pack you some extra food, then?” Ilka gathered the empty plates with murmured thanks from August and Tonya.

  “That would be fine.” Dorian gave his mother one of his rare full smiles.

  She patted him on the shoulder as she passed.

  Diane and Tonya returned to their room to re-pack their bags and reluctantly stuff feet into boots. Tonya stayed in her ocean clothes, shrugging into her fur-lined jacket and leaving the buckles, as always, undone.

  They brought their packs to the kitchen, along with Dorian and August, and Ilka found room for small bags of food to supplement their stores.

  The boys had also returned to their travel clothes, coats, and weapons. August shouldered his pack, running a hand under the straps and along the collar of his jacket to straighten it out. Diane accepted his help this time to pull hers on. He helped Tonya next, who looked at her bag with an expression of distaste.

  Ilka folded Dorian into a long hug before letting him pick up his own pack. She walked with them to the main entrance of the Hold, where a different faery stood guard.

  “Stop and say goodbye to Endre,” Ilka said, leaving no room for argument from Dorian. “You all are welcome back here any time.”

  She looked at each one of them, giving August a slight nod.

  He pressed a hand to his chest with a deeper incline of his head. “Thank you.”

  “Take care of yourselves out there.” Ilka pressed Diane’s and Tonya’s hands.

  “Thank you,” Tonya murmured, the same wide-eyed look of surprise on her face anytime someone offered an overture of friendship.

  The guard faery opened the door for them and August led the way out, Dorian pausing a moment more to accept one last hug from his mother.

  The door creaked shut behind them. When Diane looked back after a few paces, the hillside was covered in snow, no trace of the door or the signal stone to be found.

  “The faery veil is back in place. You won’t be able to find it again without help,” Dorian said. “This way first.”

  They trailed after him without question as he trekked around the base of the hill and wound through another small gap toward a smaller knoll.

  Several faeries walked the hills, eyes cast down to the earth and ice. A few stood in a cluster, heads bent towards each other in conversation. They all wore loose trousers and long coats that flared about the knees. The same bright colors painted on the walls were embroidered through the fabric.

  “Wait here.” Dorian held out a hand and moved towards a lone faery kneeling in the snow, hacking at the ice. The crack of it parting ricocheted through the hills and Tonya couldn’t hide her wince.

  Endre placed his hands in the crack, bowing his head. A faint swirl of pale magic covered him, racing down his arms and into the ground. A glimpse of green showed beneath the ice before it lunged back to cover the grass.

  Endre pulled his hands away with a frown. He looked up, his expression easing a little at the sight of Dorian waiting a few paces behind him.

  He stood, the snow not even sticking to his clothes. He and Dorian exchanged a few words, the lines easing again around Endre’s eyes into something nearly frie
ndly. He looked over at them and gave a slight nod. Dorian held out his hand, and Endre pulled him into a short hug before releasing him.

  August twisted his hands around the strap of his pack, digging the toe of his boot into the ice. Sorrow nudged Diane’s heart again. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing Edmund, and from the sound of August’s voice the night before, he and his brother had been close. It softened her a little more toward the faeries.

  Dorian’s even tread jerked her from her thoughts.

  “Ready?” He shifted his pack.

  They nodded and he led the way back to the indentation of the road. Diane sighed, hitching her pack higher on her back. Her leg gave a slight twinge and she frowned down at it. I’ll have to press through if I can.

  The road ran away from them, winding through the hills, ever north towards the unknown.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “What is it?” Diane stared out across the flat expanse. The hills had vanished, leaving nothing but open space and eddies of gusting snow.

  “A lake.” Dorian squinted as he stood at the very edge of the change.

  August took a cautious step forward, tapping his boot on the spot where the snow rippled to a stop and the flat took over. The ice echoed back and, in response, a kind of groan ran out ahead of them.

  Diane shivered, curling her hands around her staff. “Do we go around?”

  Dorian shook his head. “No. That’ll take too long. It’s miles around to the other side if we do. We go across. Can I see your staff?”

  Diane handed it over. What’s he after? Dorian moved another few steps, sliding each foot forward as he tested the ice. He rapped the end of the staff against the ice, eliciting another hollow knocking sound.

  Tonya stood a short distance away, both feet spread wide in a supporting stance, an almost dreamy expression on her face. She blinked slowly, her eyes coming back into focus.

  “It can hold our weight,” she said.

  All three turned to her.

  “How do you know?” August asked.

  A bit of snow scurried about her feet. Her grey-green eyes sharpened and a small smile twitched at her lips.

  “I used the right words.”

  A huff of amusement came from Dorian. “All right, then.”

  Diane accepted her staff back and leaned on it as she studied them with interest. They’d seemed a little closer since leaving Csorna Hold almost two days ago. It wasn’t much, but they walked alongside each other more, Dorian now no longer leading the way alone. Shy conversations initiated by Tonya, and then those glances.

  Something happened at the Hold and I missed it. She didn’t know if she was more peeved at that, or the fact that Tonya hadn’t said anything to her. But—she reluctantly dug her staff into the ground—it’s not like we’re that close either.

  “So we can cross it?” August twisted to look at them, unaware of Diane’s musings.

  Dorian nodded, shielding his eyes to look across the ice. “It’ll still take us most of today to get across. We should probably push to the other side before stopping for the night.”

  August grunted agreement. “Aye, I don’t really want to camp on the ice, no matter how thick it is. We need to rest first?” He tilted his head to Diane.

  She shook her head. “My leg’s still holding up. I should be able to walk a few more miles before needing to stop.”

  Since leaving the Hold, it hadn’t bothered her much. Dorian had announced he planned to take out the stitches that night and let it heal naturally from then on.

  Diane felt the odd imbalance in her body as it had begun to change from the miles they’d walked to something harder and leaner, but her injured leg still scrambled to catch up.

  “Let’s go.” Dorian stepped out onto the ice, Tonya behind him. August gestured for her to go next, taking up the rear in their normal marching pattern.

  The ice creaked and moaned beneath their feet, creating an uneasy twitching sensation on the bottom of Diane’s feet, as if to remind her that just underfoot lay a vast amount of water waiting to swallow them up in a heartbeat if the ice felt like cracking.

  She slipped, wincing as she dug her staff into the ice harder than she intended. She regarded the ground around the staff with a cautious eye, waiting for cracks to appear. Tonya stepped back and helped her regain her balance with a touch under her arm.

  “Even though we’ve been walking on ice this entire time, somehow this feels different.” Diane slid her feet forward again.

  Tonya’s boots whispered effortlessly over the ice, almost like she was skating. “I know. I’m not sure I like walking across a lake like this.”

  A curse broke from August, and they twisted to see him, wings outstretched to balance as he hit the same treacherous patch as Diane had.

  “Careful,” Diane said unhelpfully.

  He pursed his lips into a frown and flew a few paces, setting down gingerly before his wings folded and vanished from sight. The ice groaned and he froze. Diane’s heart thudded in response. Dorian tensed beside them.

  Only Tonya seemed unaffected. “It’s just shifting.”

  “Shifting? That doesn’t sound good.” August kept his hands extended by his sides, to balance or possibly sprint away.

  Tonya pressed her lips together in a way that made Diane think she was holding back a laugh. Diane prodded the faery’s side and Tonya skated away with a squeak.

  “All right, ice whisperer. Are we going to plummet into the freezing depths, or can we keep walking with only minor heart palpitations?”

  Tonya giggled. “It’s safe to keep going, I promise. The water’s shoving against it, but the ice doesn’t want to crack.”

  August tilted his head, the frown still twisting his lips. “I don’t know if that makes me feel better.”

  “Might agree with you on that one.” Dorian took a hesitant step. The ice held its peace.

  Shaking her head, Diane followed, holding her breath every few paces. August had to use his wings repeatedly to steady himself, his usual grace deserting him on the more treacherous surface.

  “I’m about to leave you all behind and just fly to shore,” he grumbled after nearly falling again. He didn’t bother tucking his wings away to wherever they went.

  “Must be nice to fly.” Diane carefully skirted around the shimmering patch that had nearly taken August down.

  “It is,” he agreed, sliding his feet forward with more caution.

  Dorian spread his wings a moment later, a murmured explosion of words coming from him as he steadied himself. Like August, he kept them open.

  Diane studied the difference, watching for the tell-tale shimmers that meant the ice was just waiting to try to trip them up. She’d begun to think that the lake had a personal vendetta against them.

  The faeries’ wings looked similar—a toughened membrane stretched over a rigid bony framework reminiscent of a bird. But August’s were long and broad like an eagle’s wings, made for flying. Dorian’s were shorter and more compact, like the stone grouse they’d seen running over the snow, flying only in short bursts if they needed.

  Both were a solid brown color, but she picked out different shimmers in the membrane in the sunlight, and the way they shifted colors ever so slightly.

  The colors shifted to a lighter brown in August’s wings, shading almost green around the edges to match his coat as he walked with more confidence. Dorian’s took on a dark blue tint at the tips, the same as his trousers, as he accepted August’s cheerful ribbing with a roll of his eyes in response to an almost fall.

  Tonya walked along with quiet grace on the ice, untroubled by anything the lake threw at them. But Diane had yet to see her use her wings. It had been briefly touched on in the meetings before they left that Dorian and Tonya couldn’t fly long distances, but she still wondered about Tonya’s.

  “Dorian, can I ask you a question?” Diane skidded forward a few steps.

  He didn’t even pause to nod. Diane debated a moment longer, hoping
he wouldn’t be offended somehow. Since the Hold, she’d felt a little more at ease with him, but he was harder to read than August.

  “Do Durnean faeries fly?”

  He tilted a glance over his shoulder, no anger in his eyes. “We can, but in short bursts only, and we don’t really get very high above the ground. We use them more for digging.”

  “Digging?” Diane raised an eyebrow as she studied the delicate-looking membrane again.

  “Our wings are tougher than they look.” August chuckled. “It takes a lot to even break their surface.”

  Dorian paused for a moment, expanding his wings again with a slight arch to his back. This time Diane saw the small claws at the apex and the ridges along the edges.

  “Comes in handy when you live underground and you don’t want to use up your magic to shift the ground.”

  “Couldn’t just use a shovel?” Diane teased.

  Dorian’s eyes sparkled. “What’s the fun in that?”

  I think I understand what Tonya sees in him.

  “What about you, Tonya?”

  Amusement vanished from Tonya’s face.

  “I don’t fly either.” She walked on, a tenseness in her steps.

  Diane stared helplessly after her, exchanging a bemused glance with August and Dorian. They followed in silence, Diane trying to figure out some way to apologize without making it worse. She eventually settled on waiting for Tonya’s shoulders to relax.

  It took nearly half an hour before Tonya slid back to join her. She briefly sighed, tipping her head back and forth before speaking.

  “Sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  Tonya shook her head. “It’s all right. My wings are just—sort of—broken?” She shrugged one shoulder, a bit of red creeping up her pale cheeks. “I can’t really swim and I can’t fly with them, so…”

  Diane blinked. She hadn’t considered what ocean faery wings were like before.

  “Well, speaking from experience, feet are just as good to get around on.”

  A smile flickered over Tonya’s lips, and she nudged her shoulder into Diane’s, but not hard enough to threaten her footing.