by Pirateaba
“Look, did you see the road? Can we follow that?”
The faerie looked at Ryoka and slowly shook her head.
“I saw no road, Ryoka.”
“But we just left—”
“I saw no road. Nor any landmarks I recognized. Just trees and snow and darkness.”
Ryoka paused. She felt the wind blow harder, and the chill cut into her flesh. But there was another chill in her bones.
“In that case…we’re lost. And it’s cold. I know you might not feel it, Ivolethe, but if I have to spend the night…I need a fire.”
“I know. And it seems we cannot leave this place yet. Build a fire, Ryoka Griffin, and quickly. Build it high and mighty. I will help.”
The faerie flew past Ryoka, and both girl and fae ran back towards the fallen tree. It was cold, hard as rock, and partially covered by the snow, but it was a good place to start.
Finding a spot that was at least partially protected from the wind, Ryoka set to work trying to build a fire. She used the fallen tree as protection from the wind, and scraped away snow and ice to get to the wet earth below.
There was no hope of building a snow cave out here, despite the deep snow. It was all powder, and Ryoka felt like if she tried to pack it into a buildable substance she’d be working all night. She’d have to dig a trench. At least if she used the tree, she could count on sheltering herself from a good portion of the wind chill.
But first, the fire. Ryoka knew she was very lucky to have burnable, dead wood around her. She took out the knife at her belt that she’d seldom used but always carried, and began hacking at the dead branches of the fallen tree.
She needed dry, burnable fuel to start with. Ivolethe flew out of the storm and dropped more dead wood for the young woman as she stripped bark and the outer layer of frozen wood away, searching for dry wood pulp.
It took Ryoka a long time to set the fire up even when she had enough wood. She didn’t know any fire spells, and the flint and steel she carried were not as handy as a ziplocked bag of dry matches. Or a can of petroleum.
“Can’t you unfreeze part of this place? I know you did it once—you have spring powers, right?”
Ryoka shouted at Ivolethe in frustration after her eighth failed attempt to get the tinder to light. The Frost Faerie shook her head as she hovered a few feet away from Ryoka’s attempt at a fire.
“I have such aspects, but it is not wise to use them without dire cause, Ryoka. And even then…nae. Not here.”
She looked around warily at the dark forest. Ryoka paused and stared at Ivolethe. The Frost Faerie stared back. Her expression told Ryoka more than she wanted to know. It was uncertain, and more than that…Ryoka had never seen a faerie looking uneasy.
The girl bent over the wood and redoubled her efforts to get it to light. At last, after Ryoka’s hands were cramping up from striking so many sparks, one caught. Ryoka immediately sheltered the fire, letting it grow, desperately helping Ivolethe feed it bits of tinder.
And after what seemed like hours of work, there was a fire. Ryoka sat back, gasping with relief as it grew and she fed it more wood, letting it warm her and the wet firewood she’d placed around it.
“Thank god. Thank…jeeze.”
Ivolethe flew around the fire, dropping bits of dry wood into it. She stared at the blaze, and then around at the forest. It was very dark, now. The sky had faded to pitch blackness faster than Ryoka could ever remember seeing, except maybe in a country like Poland, where sunlight might only last for three hours each day.
“The fire is growing. Good. Keep it burning bright, Ryoka. Do not let it go out.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.”
Ryoka shuddered, feeling herself warm up. But it wasn’t the need for heat that seemed to bother the faerie. She kept looking around the fire, into the dark forest. Ryoka stared around too. And then she felt a prickling sensation down her back.
She didn’t know why, but it felt like they were not alone in the forest. Perhaps it was Ivolethe’s wariness, but suddenly Ryoka thought she was being watched. She stared about surreptitiously, one hand on the knife she’d used to cut the wood. She had potions—some of them were too frozen to use, but Ryoka could warm them at the fire. The girl cursed as she suddenly realized she could have used the ignition potion for the flour bomb that Octavia had given her to light the fire!
But…perhaps it was best she hadn’t used it. Ryoka stared about. It was cold, and she could only hear the blowing wind. But she felt it now, the same as Ivolethe.
Something was out there. And it was watching her.
—-
They were three. They stood in her inn, the closed door behind them. Erin hadn’t heard them come in. She turned, caught off-guard, but the three didn’t seem like they meant to harm her.
“My apologies, Miss Innkeeper. We do not mean to intrude, but the storm outside pushed us in. We come bearing no ill will. May we seek the hospitality of your hearth on this dark day?”
The first who spoke was a man who stood taller than any man that Erin had ever seen. He was not a giant or stretched, like a basketball player was, though. He simply stood as if he looked down upon everyone and everything.
He had a beard, and a face that reminded Erin of Abraham Lincoln. Perhaps it was just the way his features looked? His nose? No—there was just something timeless about his appearance, Erin decided. Like Teddy Roosevelt, someone who defined his time, who stood out.
He had a beard. And an air about him that made Erin forget his companions for a second. But then she saw a man standing next to him, tall, taller than the first, actually, but who didn’t have his presence. He was slightly hunched, and thin. He looked like a librarian, or a scholar, or what such people were supposed to look like.
He held a book in his hands. It was faded and worn and looked as though it were ancient. But Erin’s eyes passed from him to her third guest, because the last man who stood in her inn didn’t strike her as a man at all, at first.
He…it was a he, Erin thought, was not beautiful or handsome. That was surprising, because Erin felt he should have been. But he simply looked like someone Erin vaguely recognized, as if he had the features of someone Erin had known. But she had never met him before, she was certain.
And he looked like a guy. Now Erin was uncertain of why she’d ever thought he was she. Perhaps it was the way he moved. He was graceful in the way the other two weren’t.
There they stood, the three of them. Erin stared at them in confusion, and then smiled.
“Um. Hello. Welcome. I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you come in. Please…welcome.”
The three bowed their heads, almost as one. Erin walked towards them, feeling lightheaded. She hadn’t eaten.
“You look like travelers. Are you lost?”
“Not lost, Miss. Simply weary. I thank you for allowing us to enter your inn.”
The tall, thin man with the book smiled down at Erin. She smiled back, staring into eyes paler than the moon, but deeper than any ocean.
“My door is always open, especially to people who need food and rest. Can I…can I get you something to eat?”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
The three spoke almost as one. The man who walked like a dancer bowed to Erin, smiling broadly.
“It has been a long time since we ate anything. Whatever you offer, we will gladly partake.”
“Just a second then. I’ll get what I have!”
Erin rushed into the kitchen. She wasn’t sure what she pulled out, but it felt like she was searching for food, frying and cooking at the same time, and then bringing the dishes out to the three men all at once. How much time had passed? A second? Hours?
“A feast!”
The man with the beard declared that as Erin filled the table for them. He and the other two men began to eat, not without manners, but in a way that told Erin they were starved.
“Can I get you anything else?”
&n
bsp; She wanted to keep serving them food, famished as they seemed. But to her surprise, the man with the beard bade her sit.
“Come. Eat with us, our generous host. ‘Tis been far too long since we passed the time with anyone else.”
“Are you sure?”
“We insist.”
The other two beckoned Erin over as well. So she sat, and began to eat with them. And until that moment, Erin hadn’t realized how hungry she was herself. In moments she was scarfing down the food with the three.
And then…how strange it was. Erin felt like her guests were no more strangers to her than any of her regular customers. She sat and ate and laughed with them as if she’d known them her entire lives. They were familiar, in a way Erin couldn’t name.
When it was over, again, as if in the blink of an eye, Erin sat with the other three around the fire, warming herself. The three men complimented her on her food as she demurred. Then the one with the book sighed as he stared at the sliver of night through one of Erin’s shuttered windows.
“It is dark and cold outside. I fear our companions face the storm alone at this moment.”
“Oh no. Are they lost too? Should we go get them?”
Erin started for the door.
“No.”
The man with the beard stopped Erin.
“It would not do to venture out in such a storm at the moment. Things lurk in the shadows. They wait. Better to stay indoors.”
“But your friends…”
He shook his head, and the other two did likewise, making the same motion at the exact same time.
“They are lost as we are, but do not fear. We will meet again in time. That is a certainty, and they do not fear the storm.”
“If you’re sure—what are their names? I can put up posters, ask about…”
The three men laughed as if Erin had said something hilarious. The man with the beard shook his head again.
“Do not worry. They will come in time. As for names…it would be pointless to ask. Few remember my name, let alone the others.”
“Your name? I’m sorry, you never said. What’s your name?”
“Some call me Tamaroth, little innkeeper. But how are you called?”
Erin realized she’d never introduced herself, even after all this time! She blushed; sitting with them had felt so natural she hadn’t thought of it.
“I’m Erin Solstice.”
They sighed, hearing it. As if her name were special. The three men stood around Erin, and she didn’t know when they moved. When the next person spoke, it was the graceful man.
“Well then. You have fed us and given us the hospitality of your home. For that, we are thankful. And so we have three things to offer you, Erin Solstice. Three gifts.”
“Gifts? For me—I couldn’t. I—”
“We insist. Three gifts, but you may only accept one from us. And in return, on this day, the solstice for which you are named…we would ask only one thing in return.”
“What? A gift for a gift? Well, okay, but what is it? I don’t have much to give…”
She had coin and food, but she didn’t feel these men needed either. But they wanted something of her. She didn’t know what, but she knew she had it. The three drew closer, smiling.
“You have it right here. All we ask is it for one of our gifts. It is a small thing. Will you give it?”
“What is it I have?”
They told her.
—-
The fire was warm. Ryoka stared into it, and then into the night. By her side, Ivolethe looked around darkly.
“I do not trust this storm, Ryoka. It is…strange. Even to me. I did not predict its coming, and I cannot see what lies in the darkness. Do not stray from the fire.”
She didn’t need to tell Ryoka twice. In the wilderness, the blackness around the fire that Ryoka had built was absolute. Just a few feet away from the fire, Ryoka was sure she’d lose her way instantly. She was glad she’d piled up enough wood to last the night; she didn’t want to move anywhere.
Ryoka glanced into the darkness and shuddered. She couldn’t see the trees anymore. That was how black it was. Pitch black wasn’t close to this level of…oblivion. She shuddered and glanced back towards the fire—
And there they were. Three people, sitting around the fire with Ryoka. They had made no sound, and Ryoka had not seen them move. But there they were.
“What the—”
She scrambled backwards. Ivolethe looked and cried out in astonishment. But the three sat, calmly, hands stretched out to the fire. Three.
One was a woman not much older than Ryoka. She looked scarred, liked a warrior. She turned her face to Ryoka, and the girl saw her smile.
The second was an old woman. She sat with gnarled hands outstretched, greedily staring into the flames. When she looked at Ryoka, it was with a gentle expression, like a grandmother staring at a child.
And the third? The third was not—Ryoka tried to stare at it. Her eyes moved away. It was not—
It was not anything Ryoka could describe. It sat. But sat wasn’t the right word. It was rigid, in a away bodies and…flesh was not. But it was there, too. It sat at the fire, warming itself or letting itself be warmed.
And it too looked at Ryoka. She felt its gaze upon her.
“Who are you? How the hell did you get here?”
Ryoka’s voice shook as she stood, staring at her three guests. They looked at her as Ivolethe clung to Ryoka’s clothing. It was the young woman who spoke first.
“We are cold, and came out of the storm to seek shelter. Would you begrudge us the fire, young traveler?”
The old woman was next. She edged closer to the fire, eyes fixed on Ryoka the entire time.
“We ask for your hospitality and grace in the storm. Will you give it to us, oh lost child?”
The third said nothing, but Ryoka knew it asked the same.
“Say no. Turn them away.”
Ivolethe whispered in Ryoka’s ear. But the girl hesitated. She stared at the three. They looked so cold. Colder than ice, as if they’d been caught in the storm without protection for…
“I—I suppose so.”
The faerie made a sound, but the three at the fire smiled so broadly that Ryoka relaxed her guard. The old woman beckoned Ryoka back.
“A blessing upon you. Come, sit. Share the fire you have built with us. The darkness is deep, and it would not do to let the fire go out.”
There was truth in that. Ryoka sat back down, away from the other three, and cautiously fed the fire another piece of wood. The three watched as the flames consumed the stick.
“How…did you get here? I didn’t hear anyone arrive.”
“We have been here all along. Perhaps it is you who never looked.”
This came from the young woman. Ryoka glared at her, but she stared back with amusement in her eyes, not the least bit deterred by Ryoka’s look.
“Okay. Then who are you? Where do you come from?”
“That is a long story. We can tell it, but perhaps…young woman, would you offer me your hand? I wish to sit next to you and it is cold.”
The old woman stretched out her hand towards Ryoka. The girl hesitated. She didn’t want to sit next to the old woman, but she looked cold…
“Do not do it! Let us be away, Ryoka!”
A voice in her ear. Ryoka hesitated, and then looked at Ivolethe. The old woman frowned at the tiny faerie on Ryoka’s shoulder.
“What is that you have with you, child? It is a thing of ice and dreams. Not good company for the fire.”
“Her? She’s just…Ivolethe. Don’t mind her.”
“She should leave.”
The young woman with the scars said that. And the thing…agreed.
“I will not leave! You leave! Trespassers!”
The faerie hissed at them, her eyes narrowed as she clung to Ryoka’s coat. The three stared at Ivolethe and she made another sound, so guttural and wild that Ryoka couldn’t believe it came from Ivolethe.
But then the three looked away from the faerie and back towards Ryoka. It was the young woman with the scars who spoke next.
“Take my hand, then. I see the makings of a warrior on you, traveler. I see bloodshed in your past, and in your future. Take my hand and I will show you what I know of battle and triumph. Of loss and defeat.”
She reached out towards Ryoka. The girl hesitated. She wanted to take the hand, if only because there was something in the young woman’s eyes that called out to her.
Ivolethe pulled at Ryoka’s ear. The girl yelped and swatted at Ivolethe, but the faerie only fluttered away. She sighed.
“I’m no warrior. Sorry. And I don’t like killing or…battle.”
“A shame.”
The hand was withdrawn. Now Ryoka’s eyes fell on the third thing sitting around her fire. It did not move. It did not reach for Ryoka, but she felt the urge to reach for it.
“Ah, perhaps you want to know who our companion is.”
The old woman chuckled, a dry, quiet sound swallowed up by the snow.
“Well, it asks for you to reach out, child. Can you feel it? Can you hear?”
Ryoka…could hear, despite Ivolethe shouting something in her ears. She understood. The thing wanted her to touch it, to…to feel what it felt. To be with it. To know.
Her eyes slid away from what it was. Rigid? It was nothing she could describe. But she knew it was not like the other two. Not…a being. And not a thing. Yet she wanted to touch it. That was what frightened Ryoka the most.
She reached out. She couldn’t help herself. Part of Ryoka wanted to know what it was, so badly. She wanted to touch it—
Ivolethe bit her. Ryoka howled as she clapped a hand to her neck. She felt blood at the tips of her numb fingers and flung the Frost Faerie away.
“Ivolethe!”