Winter Reign: Rise of the Winter Queen

by N. M. Howell

  The Empress struck first. By sending only seven Helkar into the Kingdom of Eddard, she completely destroyed that land and its people. It was merely a warning. She declared war on all who opposed her and offered a place in her coming empire to all who would align with her. At first we feared the world was lost; so many kingdoms and realms joined her in the beginning, afraid of her wrath, her power. But Yunger, myself, and the Aiglons declared war on the Empress and began a campaign against her and all the evil she stands for. We have battled and fought for three years, across kingdoms, realms, mountains, and plains. We have fought in deserts and on the blackest, deepest lakes. Through winter and fire and hurricanes, we have fought. And as we battle this heinous enemy, we unite the people under a single command. We convince kingdoms to join the side of good and to be brave in these dire days. Sometimes we succeed. Sometimes we fail. Not everyone has the heart to face so great a darkness and should the Empress discover the secret to the Stones of the Almighty, all is lost.

  Many battles have we fought, yet we all know the true test lies ahead. A great war is coming to the world. We are all of us afraid of what might be, of what future we face as the dark days grow near. Already, in the kingdoms which have pledged allegiance to the Empress, a terrible spirit grips the land,

  for the magic of the enemy is swift. The time will soon be upon us when we will stand for the freedom of this world and its people against an adversary so old and so evil that we do not even know how to stop it.

  The next morning comes and I enter the camp and nod to every greeting and bow I receive, moving quickly and directly to my lodgings. I have been offered a more luxurious accommodation, but this is war time and I should feel ashamed to sleep in a golden bed while the men and women I lead sleep in tents. Many tens of thousands of soldiers have come to Golrend and the surrounding lands. Obviously there is not room enough for them all, but I would much rather be here with them. As I’m moving through the camp to my humble place, I feel something. Something I usually only feel in battle. I turn, follow my instincts. I come upon a group of soldiers gathered around Yunger. He is speaking to them and they watch him in awe. Ciraa, Floron, and Rhon are also there. I have no time to greet them, as the feeling is growing with every step. I’m near now.

  “The enemy has claimed fifty-three of the Hundred Kingdoms. But fear not, for many of those are weak and are only loyal as long as they are afraid. The Empress also has many allies and soldiers outside of this realm. How many, we do not know. With the successful mission to the Stags, we now have nineteen kingdoms, besides some forty allegiances beyond the realm. The victory is still well within reach. There are still thirty kingdoms left that we might persuade. Ah, here is our chief commander now. Nevena, why don’t you-”

  But he has not time to finish. I’ve traced the feeling, the instinct, to a soldier standing not far from Floron, at the front of the ring of spectators. I look at him, only for a second—just long enough to be sure—and I fling my sword. The blade effortlessly travels the twenty feet between us and lodges in his chest. The force knocks him back several feet, but he is dead before he hits the ground. And everyone is watching me.

  “What have you done?” Yunger cries.

  “Traitor.”

  “What?”

  “The black magic within me writhes when a storm is near,” I say. “And it does the same when someone wielding mor’lumière is near.”

  “You think he was a sorcerer?” asks Ciraa.

  “No. But he’d been touched by one. Search him. You’re sure to find some clue.”

  Yunger gives the order to two women to search the body. They remove my sword and then his armor. There is a tiny scroll in the waistband of his pants. They remove it and hand it to Yunger. He reads:

  “Make no attempts against the life of the Winter Queen. She is too strong. Primary threat is General Yunger. It is his life we seek most. If you are unable to find opportunity for his assassination, you may kill anyone close to the whore Queen. Break her spirit and we will break her.”

  “Perhaps now you see, General,” I say, gloating more than a little. “Our mission cannot wait. Not a day and hardly even an hour. Send us forth. Send me forth.”

  Yunger simply stares for a moment, back and forth between me and the body. I wait, patiently and with satisfaction, for I can see in his eyes that he understands now. He knows.

  “So be it,” he says. “We cannot let an attack on our own soil go unpunished. Ready the twenty-third battalion. You leave within the hour.”

  The camp becomes a liquid mass, soldiers rushing here and there to prepare for departure or to see their friends off. I go to the body and place my hand over it, attempting to access the Orwirl, but it is of no use. This spy did not possess the gift of magic. Ciraa stands over me.

  “He should’ve stood trial,” she say. “You cannot execute a man without going through the proper channels.”

  “This is war time, girl,” I say, rising and turning to face her. “He was sent here to kill and to oppose me. At the very moment he agreed to this quest he stopped being a man and became my enemy.”

  “This is not the path you want, Nevena. It can’t be. War time or not, we must be careful of ourselves, for if we lose that part of us that cherishes life, when the war is over and the world returns to peace we’ll have no place in it.”

  “There won’t be a world without warriors like me who can end the enemy without hesitation. I will save this land and these people and this world. I alone am able. I’ll save you, too, and perhaps when you owe your life to me you’ll see the world as I do.”

  “Nevena. . . I once told you that you were found during the war. I told you that because I thought servitude would be hard on you and that the magic within you would long for home so much that it would break your heart. I told you that because I wanted you to believe that you had been rescued from a terrible fate, that you were fortunate to live and work in a castle. But it was pointless. You befriended Delara, were loved by the entire household, and the winter magic lay dormant until it sensed a worthy teacher had arrived. I remind you of all this for one reason: the future is never so dark as we believe. I have faith that the Almighty is out there somewhere, monitoring the goings on of this world. I ask you now to believe. Believe the future is safe.”

  There is a pause. Ciraa waits for me to turn my heart over. I wait to regain control of my anger.

  “The future is safe,” I say. “Surely, Sister agrees with you.”

  Ciraa gives a small gasp and for a moment just looks at me. Then the tears come to her eyes and she backs away from me, slowly.

  “You are no Queen.”

  And she runs from me.

  Within the hour the battalion is mounted and ready. Twelve thousand men, women, and creatures under my command. I give the order and we begin to move out. A sad, but encouraging crowd of family and friends bid us farewell from either side. As I near the Obsidian Gate, Yunger waves his hand to stop me.

  “Be careful, Nevena. The enemy is powerful and clever. You may be the Winter Queen, but to think of the enemy as beneath you is a mistake I pray you won’t make.”

  A little further out, I see Ciraa. She I standing out in the field, watching us from afar. She has never missed seeing me off, though she clearly has no desire to speak with me. Still, I leave the battalion and ride over to her.

  “I am sorry for my last words earlier,” I say. “My anger is a monstrous thing of late. I would, however, ask you to take a look at yourself. You, too, have changed. Where is the girl who made such jokes and remarks that kept me laughing all through the halls of Moerdra Castle? Where is the girl I stayed up nights with and talked about every aspect of my life? Do not point you finger at me alone. War has remade us all.”

  “Fine, dear girl,” she says. “But it is not your anger that is the monster.”

  With that she leaves. I think on her words a moment, not knowing what I feel, and then I dismount. I walk just a few yards and stop. I’ve reached the marker. />
  Chapter 8

  It seems strange that no one should understand my anger or why I desire the blood of the enemy so badly. The last time we saw Delara was over a year ago. It was the Battle of High Bay. A brief but bloody affair that most still can’t even talk about. Sister was with the battalion, working as a field nurse, being a light to us even in the midst of war. I was trying to get to Delara, but by the time I broke through she had already found Sister. With one tiny, effortless flick of her wrist she broke Sister’s back. With another flick she riddle the body with black stars. And because I was watching, because she truly needed to crush my heart, she called for Erglon and he flew down to snatch the body. He dropped it in the lake. It took us days to get her out.

  A week passes. We have journeyed uneventfully, waiting for a trick or a trap from the Empress, but the road has been clear so far. It is the first time I have traveled by this road and I have seen great things thus far. We have passed through two of the Razed Twenty and learned that they were not named lightly. Nothing remains. Not life, not building, not hope. Even the earth was heavily salted so that nothing would grow. It is hard to imagine without seeing it and it does not lend hope for the fate of the Winterlands. But we have also seen life. Just yesterday we passed though the east side of the Tein, home of the Fingers of the Almighty. We saw their home, one massive tree over a mile wide and so tall the eye cannot see even to its midpoint. It is said that the top of the tree breaches the atmosphere of the earth. I have never seen its like, never seen such beautiful green and such magnificent woodwork, as the people have carved their entire history on the trunk of their home in pictures. We have also successfully united more people to our cause. There are yet some in the world who wait only for our promise of safety to have the courage to stand up. We have now crossed into a new realm. Rhon and Floron have traveled with me and they advise me to go around the place before us, but that would put us days behind and already another week remains before we reach our destination. I give the order to move straight forward. We march into Night’s Deep.

  Night’s Deep is a valley whose bottom lies one thousand feet below the common ground. A different kind of tree grows here, tall and thick, stretching toward the sun until the trees themselves are hundreds of feet tall. The woods here have never been cut, for men and beast both fear to come here. Rhon and the rest of the Aiglon must walk beside the horses now, for there is little room to soar above us, but they keep watch with their keen eyes. The giants are forced to walk bent so as to protect their heads, yet the fleet-footed Fox Lords have no trouble taking to all fours and flitting among the trees sniffing the air for trouble.

  We have not journey far before the sun is almost completely blocked out by the trees above. We begin to light our torches. As soon as the first flame is lit a rumble rolls through the forest. We give pause.

  I ask “What do your eyes see, Aiglon?”

  “Something large moves ahead of us, my Queen.”

  “I see eyes in the darkness, my Queen.”

  “It seems to my eyes monsters, Your Grace.”

  “Aye,” says Radlufff, leader of the Fox Lords, running back and standing on his hind legs to address me. “There is a most foul odor in the air here, Queen. It is the smell of countless corpses.”

  “You’re certain?” I ask.

  “Yes, Queen. The nose of a Fox Lord does not lie, neither does the eye of an Aiglon.”

  “We must push on,” I command. “We are too deep to turn back now.”

  No sooner are the words out of my mouth than a spear comes sailing through the air. Radluff is fleet-footed enough to evade it and it sticks in the ground. Rhon takes it and studies it. He looks at me.

  “Loqckna.”

  Fear spreads among us. Loqckna are an ancient evil, so old and so long dormant that the world

  has forgotten what they look like or what they’re capable of. All we know is what their sigil looks like and that they were a terrible foe in the last age of the world. Rhon moves his fingers to touch the sigil and immediately his arm withers and blackens until it is as a charred branch. He falls to the fall to the ground screaming.

  “Make haste!” I command.

  Radluff throws Rhon onto the back of my horse and the entire battalion moves forward at top speed. We cannot fight an enemy we cannot see. On and over and through we race, the hooves of our horses pounding the earth and the Aiglon giving swift flight under the low branches above us.

  Suddenly, quite as death, a wave hits us. The enemy has shown itself: men, women, spiders, and giants collide with us out of the dark. Pale men on wings with fangs like knives descend from the trees. Vampires. They were thought extinct. I see, too, that the legends were wrong. They don’t drink blood. They eat flesh. Their attack is grisly and gruesome, and the screams of my soldiers will haunt me forever.

  “Form rank and attack!” I cry.

  But the enemy has already broken our ranks and another wave attacks us from the other side. But my soldiers are fierce and brave, and it is not long before they have found their courage and are engaging the enemy in terrible combat. I myself have descended and with the winter magic and my blade I am cutting down their forces mercilessly. I have spelled my blade to twice its length and width and given myself the strength to wield it. I can slice through ten at one swing. With my free hand I cast quickly and precisely, freezing dozens at a time. I cast a spell on the soil and the earth sprouts hands, reaching up to drag the enemy underground. Another spell twists their mind and turns them against each other. Fighting is simply a matter of reading the enemy’s mind and countering.

  Just when I believe the battle is turning in our favor, another barrage of spears showers upon us. With a wall of fire I burn up the shafts aimed at me, but as they fall among my company I see my fellows shriveling and blackening to death. A spear finds the chest of Fox Lord and the withering spreads out from the sigil, killing him instantly. Even a giant is brought down by one. Then I look up and see what must be the Loqckna crawling down the trunk of the tree. Black as tar, thin as staffs, with faces that are leaking something foul-smelling and eyes white as snow. Their round gaping mouths are at their stomachs and have only four massive triangular teeth. They will not leave the trees. They move like spiders, using their two legs and four arms. Hideous, detestable creatures. When a soldier has withered they rear back on their legs and shoot a long gray tongue at the shriveled body and suck it into their mouths. I cast a spell, exploding the five nearest trees and when the Loqckna hit the ground, the Fox Lords are upon them. The giants punch through trees with a single strike and break the black, wriggling beast with bare hands.

  I see now that we far outnumber the enemy. They must have been counting on their trap to aid them. As I fight back and forth, I see flying in above me the traitor. Erglon. I have so waited for this day. He darts up and down, killing my soldiers with his terrible talons and moving almost too swiftly to be seen. He is so terribly fast. However, Floron soars up and collides with him. A terrible fight ensues in the air. But this kill is mine. I reach out my hand and cast a spell. Floron is instantly chained to a tree trunk and Erglon is mine. I use magic to leap over the heads of the armies and as I come down I swing the blade. Off comes Erglon’s leg. He screams in agony. But with a flash of wings and unbelievable speed, he kicks my face and sends me colliding headfirst into a tree. The pain is incredible, but I will not be stopped. I rise, only to find that he has conjured himself a new leg, entirely of silver. The Empress has taught him well. And so we fight.

  Erglon’s magic is strong, but he knows it is not stronger than mine and so he relies principally on his speed and agility. In that I am no match for him. I cast a spell that shrinks his wings and he grows them right back, so I cast another that showers razors upon him, slicing him all over his body. He attacks me head on, too quick to see, and stabs me with his talons several times, darting in and out

  around me. I engulf myself in a tornado, taking him off him feet and into the air, finally slamming h
im into a tree. A Loqckna attempts to stab and eat him, but Erglon uses his beak to decapitate the beast and then he casts a spell into his mouth, from which comes a stream of acid that I narrowly avoid. Down he comes, enraged, and hits me in the chest. He pins me to the ground and strikes at me with his bloody beak. I move my head and grab him, head-butting him repeatedly until I can take no more. With a gust of ice I blow him into the air. He uses his wings to steady himself. He dives at me, casting at the same time, and I transport myself to a spot some feet away. He doesn’t stop, but releases his talons and flies straight into Rhon, who lies defenseless against a tree. I watch Rhon’s eyes as the life leaves him. Erglon smiles and flees.

  But he will not escape me. Using winter magic I transform myself into pure lightning and I travel by striking ground and trunk and shield. Erglon looks back, sees me, and is afraid. I even run through some of the enemy soldiers on my way. We race through the forest at blinding speed, away from the battle and into the dark. At last I strike and run upwards burning through his side and his wing. He comes crashing to the earth. Before he can heal himself I turn both his arms to lead. I turn him over and beat him back and forth across the forest floor. I think of Sister, of Rhon, of the countless others he has murdered, of his betrayal of his people. I raise my sword and though I want to kill him so badly, I know I must first interrogate him. I bring the blade down into the wing part of his arm. I leave him there, pinned by my blade, and return to the fight.

  The enemy is almost spent, though the Lockna are still safe in their trees. I see my archers are out of arrows. I raise my hand. I know it is a horrible thing to do and far too dangerous, but I have had enough of pity, of patience, of hoping for peace. I spread my fingers and from my hand pours a vast river of white flames. I turn to every side, setting fire to all the trees. To the entire forest. And the trees light instantly, spreading the flame quicker than I’d imagined. It is so bright that it’s as if the sun has been shown to us again.