*
Anthony knew that situation was worsening when the three Frosts appeared. Night, Day and Dawn had come down into the cave to be with their people. Though many had crowded around them when they first appeared from one of the many holes around the top of the cavern, the people were soon ushered away by three Frosts who seemed very distracted. They hobbled up to the top of a large mound of snow and sat in a circle. They joined hands and after a few moments icy bonds had formed around their arms making it difficult to see where one Frost ended and another begun.
Not long after they'd started doing whatever it was they were doing, Anthony felt more reverberations. But these were different, the noise was so loud and the vibrations so powerful that it was as if the ground itself was churning and breaking apart.
'What is happening?' he'd asked George in hushed tones, but the Snowman had shrugged and said he did not know. What he did say was that the Frosts had made a clear statement that if Snowdell came to be again as it was in the Elder age then they would not allow it to fall as it had before. To what lengths they were capable or willing to go he did not know, however.
The rumbling went on for a long time, punctuated by what sounded like a cacophony of war horns coming from a long way away. Then suddenly there was chaos in the cave as two figures emerged from the holes and fell into the old snow on the far side of the cavern from where Anthony was standing. They stood up and Anthony assessed them. The smaller of the two was all in black, black trousers, black jerkin and black cloak, a look rounded off by his raven-black hair, flawless white skin and fiery blue eyes.
Though he was armed with a short sword which glowed blue in places, reminding Anthony of a dagger he once carried, there was nothing malign or violent about the first newcomer. His companion was terrifying, however. He must have been almost nine feet tall and bulky, though you couldn't tell it by the way he moved. His grey armour was thick but still afforded him a reasonable economy of movement. It looked to be made of hundreds of pieces and was adorned with the symbol of a raven on its right breast. This figure was also cloaked though his cloak matched his armour in colouration. He carried a sword in his right hand which looked short to him but was likely about six feet in length, but by far the most outstanding feature was the silver claw on his left gauntlet.
There were seven razor sharp spikes in all, each one a foot long and gleaming with sharp perfection. As soon as they landed the Snowmen closest to him started to scream and run. Anthony saw the clawed knight indicate the Frosts to the other figure and both of them started to make their way towards the hill on which the three figures sat.
When the Snowmen saw that the enemy were heading towards their holy men, however, they stopped running. They might be afraid but the Frosts would not be harmed by outsiders whilst they still stood. Snowmen and Snowwomen rushed to defend the Frosts and as they ran Anthony saw weapons materialise in their hands, mainly an assortment of hammers and axes.
The claw-wielder took the lead and started to cut a snowy path through the people of Snowdell. They slashed at him with their axes and they struck at him with their hammers but ice and snow could not seem to stomach the hardened steel of the enemy. To his chagrin Anthony saw a number of the friendly Snowmen go down, those struck by the sword rose again but those slashed by the claws disintegrated and did not take the floor again. Then George started to move and Anthony saw a large hammer appear in his hand, Anthony ran with him towards the enemy.
Though the Snowmen were falling in droves to the clawed warrior they had at least halted the advance towards the Frosts. Then Anthony saw George charge into the fray as he brought the hammer down with force on the helm of his enemy. But the armoured warrior shrugged off the blow and aimed a solid kick at George, knocking him to the floor before stepping over him and preparing for a death blow. “Stop this madness!” Anthony shouted at the top of his lungs. The claws halted but inches from George’s frightened snowy face, then all eyes turned to the dreamer.
Anthony walked forward. Behind the grey mask of the clawed one two red orbs burned, there was no quarter there. When his companion stepped up, however, the man in black, Anthony saw reason, there he saw compassion.
“You are the dreamer?” he asked in a voice which resonated with power, a voice older than the body which spoke it.
“I am Anthony Hallow. Please ask your man there to stand down”, said Anthony indicating the clawed one. The man in black placed a restraining hand on the arm which held the claw. Anthony detected a moment of hesitation before the silver-clawed giant stood down and moved slightly down the hill of snow.
“And you are?” Anthony asked of the black-clad man, who sheathed his sword.
“I am Prince Karmalaine, son of the King Fenn Corul Geddon, heir to the Nested Throne and the Kingdom of Avalen.”
“These people are not your enemies, they are nobody’s enemies.”
“I know”, said the Prince in a voice containing genuine regret, “it was not my wish for violence to befall anyone this day, but my father has tasked me with returning you to the Mercurial Chambers and it is a task I mean to fulfil. I gave these people a chance to hand you over. They chose instead to attack us.”
“They were defending my right to choose my own path.”
The Prince smiled at that. “A noble sentiment, truly, and one with which I empathise”, said the Prince with sincerity, “but let us be honest with each other, you and I. This is not your world, these are not your people and this is not your path to choose. You are in the land beyond the dream, Anthony Hallow, you do not belong here and I have come to send you home. Is that not what you desire?” the Prince asked earnestly.
It was a good question. It had been at the forefront of his mind since he'd arrived here. At first Anthony's only desire was to return home to normality, but as the days and weeks had passed his thoughts had changed. Home was misery where the laughter which had filled his life had died. Did he really want to go back to that? The empty house, the woe, the nightmares, now he was unsure. The only certainty was that his presence was causing problems for people who had shown him care.
“You mean to return me to the chamber where I awoke?” Anthony asked of the Prince.
“You have my word.”
“The words of Fenngaard mean little here, Prince Karmalaine”, said George who had climbed to his feet and recovered. Anthony saw a momentary flash of irritation on the face of Prince Karmalaine but it was not in his voice when he responded, if anything he sounded contrite.
“I have never wronged you Snowman. Before a few days ago I didn't even know you existed. I can assure you that I was not aware of your plight, now that I am I can further assure you that upon my return to Fenngaard I will do everything within my power to ensure that Snowdell can continue to exist in all its glory.”
That statement was greeted by a host of murmurs from the Snowmen, some positive, some sceptical. Anthony felt the former. Though he trusted in the wisdom of the Frosts and his friendship with George it was like a mist was starting to clear. The Prince was right, regardless of what waited for him. It was on the tip of his tongue; he was just about to speak the words of agreement which would take him back to the Mercurial Chambers and back to sleep.
But he was interrupted by a scream. One of the Snowwomen pointed up the hill where the Prince’s silver-clawed companion had moved away but circled around the hill of snow. For a big man he moved quickly and stealthily and now he stood over the three Frosts who were oblivious to his presence, so deep was their concentration on the battle they waged above.
A collective scream came from the Snowmen who rushed up towards where the armoured killer had raised his silver claw, but their screams could not stop him. Neither could Prince Karmalaine’s own shouts, which were drowned out by the fear of the people of the snow. The claw came down and sliced through all three Frosts in one go. They fell apart to nothing, just chunks of ice lying in the snow. A wail went up from the Snowmen and the earth seemed to shudder before they all he
ard and felt what sounded like a mountain collapsing outside.
Scores of Snowmen rushed to the top of the hill and the clawed killer made as if to defend himself, but they did not attack him. Instead they went to what remained of their holy men, the pieces of broken ice. Anthony looked at Prince Karmalaine who had a look of genuine anguish on his face. The Prince’s desire for peace seemed to have had little impact in terms of staying the hand of his champion, however. The clawed one moved slowly down the hill through the throng of despairing snow people.
“We need to leave now”, it spoke in a voice which chilled Anthony to the bone, cold, metallic, remorseless.
“Why did you do that?” hissed the Prince at him.
“Our companions were still above ground fighting that monstrosity. Would you have left them to fight for themselves?” asked the clawed one in an accusatory voice. The Prince did not respond but Anthony could tell that was a conversation the two of them would be continuing at a later date.
The Prince reached and grabbed Anthony's arm. “Come”, he said but Anthony wrenched away from his grip.
“I think not”, he said, amazed that the Prince would think he was going to come willingly after what had just happened.
“What just happened was unfortunate but it changes nothing, you must come with us.”
“I must do nothing”, said Anthony. The cold callous way in which the clawed one had dispatched the Frosts left the dreamer in no doubt of the lack of integrity of the Prince and his executioner. He turned to run up the hill to where George and his people mourned, but he had climbed only a few feet when something struck him about the back of the head and darkness closed in on his mind.
Beyond the Dream Page 34