Daughter of Sun, Bride of Ice

by H. L. Burke

  Kay’s head turned in their general direction. Arynne winced inwardly. She had planned to approach him quietly, not draw so much attention to herself. Kay’s eyes met hers and a mischievous smile crept over his face. Her insides flip-flopped. She did not like how he could make her feel like that. She was supposed to marry Prince Olyn, not get flustered when ... well, she wasn’t sure what Kajik was, but he wasn’t Prince Olyn. She’d have to watch herself around him.

  A cracking noise echoed overhead like a sudden peal of thunder. Several of the Frorians visibly cringed and young Wrulf fell to his knees, his hands over his head. Everyone froze.

  A distant grinding rose from somewhere above them.

  Kay’s eyes widened. “Get to higher ground!” he shouted, waving his arms towards the gentler slope on the far side of the valley.

  Ivak leaped from his sleigh, slicing through the elk’s reins with his axe. The men started to run, most towards the direction indicated, but Kay and Soryl dashed towards Arynne.

  A roar like a wave about to crash down upon them shook Arynne to her core.

  “Elfrida!” she wailed.

  The older woman scrambled from the wagon, one snowshoe strapped on, the other still in her hand. She stiffened, her mouth agape in terror. The noise grew louder. Arynne looked up, and her breath left her. A cloud of pure white swept down the slope, churning like mist but with a sound like a giant gnashing his teeth.

  “Avalanche!” Rafal wailed.

  Chapter Twelve

  Arynne’s knees turned to jelly as the crashing, seething wall of snow and ice rushed toward her. There was no way she could outrun it. Terror gripped her, and she faced it down, frozen with fear and helplessness.

  “Arynne!” Kajik appeared in front of her. His hand clamped down on her shoulder, snapping her out of her terror. They needed to run, but not alone. Elfrida stumbled towards her, hands outstretched, tripping over her single snowshoe.

  “Elfrida!” Arynne reached towards her companion as a wall of snow crashed into the sleigh beside them. The world blurred, and Arynne fell against Kay’s chest, expecting to be swallowed up by the avalanche. Instead his magic tingled about her. The sound faded. Arynne jerked away from him, toppling onto her rump. She was on top of the slope. He’d teleported her to safety.

  But the others—

  Arynne’s head snapped in the direction of the caravan. A cloud of white churned within the valley, hiding the road, their sleighs, and all of her companions. Did any make the high ground in time? It had happened so quickly.

  Kay sat down hard on the snow beside her, panting, his shoulders rising and falling as he gulped air.

  The cloud of snow twisted, still obscuring the valley. Arynne desperately scanned the edges of it, hoping to see someone—anyone—emerge.

  No one did.

  “Elfrida!” Arynne screamed, bolting to her feet. She took one step, tripped over her snowshoes, and fell forward. Her arms sank into the drifts up to her elbows. She spit snow.

  “Easy!” Kajik’s arms surrounded her, pulling her out of the smothering cold.

  “Let me go!” She struggled to get upright again. “Why did you just take me? Why couldn’t you have grabbed her too? Now she ... she...”

  Kay’s hands dropped to his sides. He stared at her, his blue eyes stricken, and all her protests died in her throat. She sank down, face in her hands, whimpering.

  Elfrida ...

  This was Arynne’s fault. Arynne had dragged the woman on this dangerous journey. If not for Arynne’s impulsive decision to wed the Frorian prince, Elfrida would be safe in Solea—safe and ... oh, she couldn’t be dead.

  “I’m sorry,” Kajik breathed, his voice barely audible above the whistling wind. “I ... I just grabbed you and traveled to safety. It was instinct, to get you out of there. The others... I didn’t have time, Arynne. I’m so sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry. You saved my life, and I’m being ... Oh Kay! Are they really gone?” She forced herself to look into the valley again. The haze of white faded revealing a field of snow, deceptively still and peaceful.

  “They might still be—” Kajik stood. “Arynne, stay here and try to keep warm, all right? I’ll see what I can do, but please, don’t ... don’t put yourself in danger. I won’t be able to think straight if I’m not sure you’re safe.”

  Her throat tightened, but she managed a nod. She had no idea how to help anyway. He squeezed her shoulder, and then in a blink he was gone.

  Squinting, she managed to find him again, now on the valley floor far below. His voice carried weakly over the wind, shouting for their companions. Heartsick and terrified, Arynne closed her eyes and wept.

  A sensation like cold fingers tickled her body. She drew her cloak around her and summoned her fire into her palms, holding a steady flame within the confines of her cloak. It stole heat from her core but kept her extremities from growing numb. Also, the effort of concentrating on the fire kept her mind off the loss of her companions.

  After a while, Kay stopped shouting in the distance. She was just beginning to worry and consider going after him when he appeared before her, cheeks red, mouth drawn. He now carried a second pack along with the one still strapped to his shoulders.

  Not speaking, Kay collapsed beside her, dropping the pack into the snow. She searched his face. His blue eyes looked hollow, lifeless and deprived of their usual playful spark.

  “Elfrida?” she stammered, even though from his expression she knew the answer.

  He shook his head.

  “Did you ... did you find anything?” Her vision blurred.

  “Wrulf and Tor they ... looked as if their necks snapped from the impact. I got the pack off Tor.” He nudged at the bundle with his elbow. “I tried to ... the others, even if they survived the initial trauma, they would’ve suffocated by now beneath all that. They’re gone, Arynne. They’re all gone.”

  Her heart shattered as she realized her selfishness. Yes, she’d lost Elfrida, but Kay had lost his companions, all of them. Mouthy, saucy Soryl. Young, idealistic Wrulf. His mentor Ivak. Gone in a rush of snow and ice.

  “I’m sorry,” her voice cracked.

  “You didn’t cause this.” He staggered to his feet. “We need to get moving. We’re exposed here, and the wind is picking up. If we don’t find some shelter soon, we’ll freeze on our feet—”

  A chill swept through her. In her fear for Elfrida, she hadn’t even considered her own plight. They were far from civilization, with barely any supplies and only their own two feet to carry them. Kay shouldered his pack and jerked his thumb towards the twisting road markers winding down the slope in the distance, dark spots against the moon-touched snow. “Come on. If we press on, we might be able to find shelter before ... before things get too bad.”

  “Do we have a chance?” Her throat tightened, and for a moment she feared she would cry again.

  He dropped to his knees beside her, gripping her shoulders. His blue eyes pierced her, and she had to look away. “Of course. We just have to keep moving.”

  Steeling herself, Arynne forced herself to look him in the eyes. “Kay, I’m not a child. I know how bad this is, and I need you to be honest with me: do we have any chance of making it to Frorheim?”

  He let out a long breath, glanced up at the starry skies, then back at her. “I won’t lie, Arynne. This is bad. Our chances are slim. We have barely a moonnotch’s worth of rations, no firewood, and a journey before us that would’ve been four moonnotches in ideal conditions, but as is ... I don’t know. I can travel us over short distances, speed it up some, but not enough to definitely save us, not without risking my life, and knowing that if I die, you’re out here alone—I’m not ready to chance that.” He drew her closer. “But I’m not giving up hope, and neither should you.”

  Her stomach twisted and turned until she worried her last meal would spill out onto the snow, but she managed to nod. “Then let’s walk.”

  Kajik hefted up Tor’s pack and offered Arynne his arm. Ge
tting down the steep slope towards the road proved more difficult than anticipated. After Arynne tripped over her snowshoes for the third time, Kajik took a deep breath and traveled them to the valley floor. Once there, he had to sit down for several minutes to catch his breath. A chill crept through her, remembering what he’d said about travelers teleporting themselves to death. Had he pushed himself too far in his efforts to save her and search for their companions?

  “Are you all right?” she whispered.

  “I’ll ... I’ll be fine. I just need a breather.” He closed his eyes. “I think I should stick to walking for the rest of the moonnotch though.”

  She placed her hand on his shoulder, needing to feel the certainty of another human’s touch. She’d seen so much death and loss. The thought of losing Kay as well—she wouldn’t be able to stand it. She’d give up and collapse into the snow to let the cold take her. His hand strayed to rest on top of hers.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he soothed. “You’re in good hands. I have trained for this sort of scenario, plus my ability to travel—I don’t want to brag, but of all the people you could have picked to be stranded in a frozen wasteland with, I’m the best choice to make.”

  In spite of everything, she laughed. She settled into the snow next to him. His arm slipped around her waist and pulled her closer. For a heartbeat, she stiffened, then relaxed into it, finding the contact with him warmed her.

  “I’ll get you safely to your betrothed, Arynne,” he said. “I swear. It’s been my mission this entire time, and while this is a setback, it does not shake my resolve.”

  “I know you will ... and I’m not scared.” Surprisingly she found this wasn’t a lie. She trusted him. Whether it made sense or not, she believed he could keep her safe and get her to Frorheim. In spite of everything that had gone wrong, she thanked whatever god was watching over them that she’d been left with Kay.

  They sat in silence. Arynne began to grow drowsy, her head nodding against his shoulder.

  “Hold up!” He jerked to his feet, jolting her. “Fall asleep out here and there’s a chance you won’t wake up. Come on. We need to get to someplace where we’ll have shelter and maybe a chance at making a fire.” He eyed the second pack, the one he was carrying rather than wearing on his shoulders. “First off, I can’t carry both of these, not for long distances.”

  Arynne squared her shoulders. “Could I help?”

  He squinted at her. “I don’t doubt your willingness, but you lack the conditioning. Still—” He opened the pack and poked through it before shrugging off his own pack. He spent some time transferring items from one to the other. “Thank the Ever. Good old Tor was prepared as always.” A look of regret passed over his face, but faded just as quickly. “He’s got firestones, dried soup, and even a medicine kit. All essentials. Some of these tools I have as well. We don’t need two sets of flint—” He tossed something to the side. “Or two icepicks... We just need the food and fuel.” Finishing his sorting, placing some items in his own pack and leaving others in the snow, he then refastened both packs, took his own now much heavier one upon his shoulders, and motioned for her to turn around. She obeyed, and he helped her get the straps around her arms. Even with the items he’d taken from it, it weighed heavily upon her. However, she didn’t want to let on to this weakness. She squared her shoulders and set her jaw hard.

  “Let’s try to get out of the open, find some sort of shelter before we make camp. Come on.”

  Their snowshoes crunched on the snow, the only other sound the shrill whistling of the wind. Arynne’s breath fogged before her, further obscuring her vision already blurred by tears. So many memories of Elfrida, caring for Arynne, telling her stories, brushing and braiding her hair. After Arynne’s parents had died, Elfrida had stepped up, being a comforter and a teacher. Leaving Solea hadn’t felt like leaving home since she was taking Elfrida with her. Nothing would be the same without the kind older woman and her constant presence.

  Beside her Kajik coughed. He stopped and rubbed at his eyes with his coat sleeve. “Sorry.”

  She tilted her head and found that his eyes were likewise watery. “It’s all right. We both lost friends—you more so than me. Did you ... had you known your companions for long?”

  “Some longer than others. Wrulf was new to the wardens, a hard worker with a promising future, but I met him less than a starcycle ago. Good kid, though. Yan and Tor were veterans, several starcycles more experience than me, and Soryl—we came through training together, though he never took it seriously enough.”

  “But they were all your friends?” she asked.

  The line of road markers twisted into the shadow of a great cliff, and Arynne and Kajik followed them.

  “Yes, they were. The hardest loss is probably Ivak. I ... I was lost when I joined the wardens as a last attempt to give my life some structure and meaning. Everything I’d done up to that point had only ended in my father’s disapproval, and I was starting to doubt I could ever be good at anything. I think I was looking for people to discount me, daring my commanders to tell me I wasn’t good enough, just like I’d heard all my life.” He shook his head. “Ivak saw something in me, though. Tough on me, but said he could make a warden out of me, and he wasn’t going to let me take the easy way out by quitting first chance I got.” He paused in his walk and scanned the cliff face. “If I remember there’s a way point around here where the wardens stash supplies. It should offer us shelter—maybe some fuel for a real fire.”

  “I’m sorry you lost someone who meant so much to you.” She slipped her hand around his.

  He let out a long breath. “You did as well. I saw you interacting with Elfrida. She may have been your handmaiden, but she treated you like a daughter. You get so many people in your life who only want what they can use you for, only see the rank or the wealth and power. Who see you as a stepping stone. People like Elfrida and Ivak, who care for who you are, not what they can get from you—they’re priceless.”

  Arynne chest ached, and she couldn’t hold his gaze.

  They continued walking for what felt like ages. Arynne’s legs felt heavy, the snowshoes like leaden weights upon her feet. Unable to hold her head up, she stared at the unending path of snow before her feet. Foot up, crunch down, foot up, crunch down ... the repetition became hypnotic until she wasn’t sure if she were moving or being swept along with the rhythm of her own footfalls. Her head nodded against her chest, and the pack on her back seemed ready to push her to the ground.

  “I see it!” Kay grasped her arm. “Come on, Arynne! We’re almost there.”

  He led her straight towards the cliff face. Arynne squinted at what appeared to be a solid wall of gray stone, reaching up to the starry sky. A great drift of snow was piled at its base next to one of the black road markers. Kajik hurried to this and started kicking at the top of the drift, revealing a black gap.

  A cave? She hurried to his side and helped him clear away enough snow that they could slide down the other side of the drift into the dark, close space of a small cavern.

  “You got a light?” He chuckled.

  Catching on to what he was suggesting, she drew her fire into her hand, illuminating a space perhaps ten feet and depth and with a ceiling just high enough for Kay to walk beneath if he stooped. A fire pit with black scorched rocks took up the center of the room, and a series of crates and barrels were stacked at the back of the cave.

  “Excellent.” Kay grinned after inspecting the crates. “There’s enough wood for the a moonnotch, and even some food stores, which means our supplies will stretch out a little longer.”

  Arynne’s stomach growled at the mention of food.

  He glanced at her hand where the flame still flickered. “How long can you keep that lit?”

  “A while.” She sucked on her bottom lip, not wanting to admit how it would drain her. The longer she channeled heat into the flame, the colder her body would get. Already her stomach felt as if she’d quickly swallowed a flask of chilled
water. “It would be helpful if I could transfer it to another fuel source, though. You said there was wood?”

  “Yeah, plus a fire would be good for us both.” He dragged out a bundle of logs and placed it in the fire pit. Arynne hovered her hand over the smallest piece until the wood caught flame. Soon a roaring fire sent light dancing through the cavern.

  This accomplished, she helped Kay sort through the supplies and found a small cauldron and a leather wrapped package of gelatinous cakes he called “dry soup.”

  “Dry soup seems like a contradiction.” She frowned at him.

  “You’ll see.” He passed her the cauldron. “Could you fill this with snow? We’ll melt it down for water.”

  She nodded and tramped to the mouth of the cavern. The barrier of snow that had hidden the cavern also kept out the wind. The moment she approached the opening, the chill fingers of cold air reached for her heart, and she gathered the snow hurriedly to get back to the warm fireside. She placed the cauldron on the stones beside the fire and watched as the white fluffy snow melted down to clear, pure water.

  Kay passed her a long-handled dipper he’d found somewhere amongst the supplies. “Drink what you need, then we’ll make soup with the rest.”

  She filled the dipper several times and drank her fill. When she was done, Kajik also drank. He then took the cake of “dry soup” and broke it into the water. After a bit, a rich, meaty smell rose from the cauldron which now held a thick, bubbling brown liquid.

  “It’s not a prime example of Frorian cuisine, but when you’re cold and tired and far from home, it’ll keep you going.” He smiled as he took the pot off the flames. “No bowls and only one spoon, I’m afraid. You can eat first.” He offered her the dipper.

  “No, you.” She pushed away his hand. “You’ve used up far more of your energy. I won’t feel right eating until I know you’ve had your fill.”

  Kay opened his mouth to protest, then shrugged and filled the dipper with the soup. Arynne’s stomach gnawed at her, but she distracted herself by staring into the flames.