Mortals didn’t realize that when time “seemed to slow down” in the most boring or miserable moments, it was because time had done exactly that. They didn’t know that when it appeared to “fly when you’re having fun,” it was because time had sped up for exactly that reason. Petty and cruel as the day was long. That was time.
But she’d come to an agreement with time long ago. And now it couldn’t touch her. Not in the way that mattered.
So she sat silently and rocked quietly and read the words that transported her to another dimension until her enemy decided to make his appearance at last. The only thing that surprised Lalura Chantelle this time around was that when her attacker did appear, it was not a he – but a she.
“I hadn’t expected you to be the one do this, my dear,” her greeting softly rasped. She spoke without looking up. She was at a good part in the book.
Several feet away, a pair of purple velvet combat boots stood firmly planted in a fighter’s stance and a set of long, pale but shapely legs supported a woman with fair skin, a smattering of freckles, and waist-length hair the color of lilac-dusted snow. That hair moved in an unseen and unfelt breeze as the rest of the desert lay still and calm.
Light purple eyes gazed at the old woman in the rocking chair. They were an inhuman and impossible color, mesmerizing and unsettling. This was why they were normally disguised by magic, as was the color of her hair. But right now, they were as they’d been born – and they narrowed in anger.
“Stand up and face me, you wrinkled sack of ill-used magic.”
The voice was pure and beautiful. At the sound of it, one would know immediately that it was capable of the purest pitch, and lullabies that would send giants to long, deep slumbers in their massive beds.
Lalura Chantelle laughed. She couldn’t help it. It was a little annoying, because in such a quiet calm, her grating chuckle was louder than ever. But laughter was good nonetheless, was it not? The best medicine, they often said.
Unhurriedly, she summoned a bookmark from thin air and placed it between the pages of the book she’d been reading. Then she closed the novel with a sigh and looked up. “Your manners have improved, I see.”
Those lavender hued eyes narrowed even further, and a perfect set of bright white teeth gritted in mounting fury. “No thanks to you.”
Lalura laughed again. “Oh, of that I have no doubt, little one. I’m afraid I’ve never been a fantastic influence on you. I suppose I just don’t have the necessary instincts.” She took hold of the armrests of her rickety old rocking chair and slowly got to her feet. She may have had an agreement of sorts with time, but no one could escape all of its ravishments. Her knees, hips and back at once felt the weight of her upon them, and pain took hold of her form as it had increasingly done over the last forty decades.
As usual, she pushed past it and focused on the figure before her. “What is it exactly the Entity has sent you to do to me, little one?”
Now it was her attacker’s turn to laugh. The sound was beautiful as ever. It always had been, but the girl had matured into a woman since the last time Lalura had beheld her; her voice had matured as well. “You really are something else,” the woman said through her laughter, and shook her head. “Are you stalling for a reason hag, or are you just that unimpressed with me as usual?”
“Oh, I’ve never been unimpressed with you, my dear.” She took a deep breath and sighed heavily, preparing to use some of the magic she’d had summoned and at the ready for ages. “Quite the opposite.”
The woman watched her in silence for a moment. Then, just like that, she attacked.
Lalura fell back into the dimensional pocket of safety she’d had prepared and shook her head. I suppose this puts and end to the catch-up. She drew her hands together, closed her eyes, and let her magic flow. It shot through the dimensional hole just as her opponent’s magic slammed into the dimensional pocket so hard, it rocked violently around her. Magic strong enough to move a dimension…. But, of course. She should have expected no less.
The old witch managed to keep her balance, allowing a bit of her power to stabilize her inside the pocket, lifting her away from its boundaries so that no part of it touched her body any longer. Then she opened her eyes and watched beyond the pocket’s clear window as the magic she had sent out encountered a shield of sparkling violet hue and runic symbols.
Mmm, she thought. She’s learned to shield. Good girl.
But there was so much more to learn. There always would be. In fact, Lalura knew well that most of life was about learning lessons. Some people only learned them the hard way.
Lalura would know.
The wind that blew through her opponent’s thick, shimmering hair picked up in speed, lifting the topmost layer of sand from the desert’s floor to send it flying. The woman’s purple eyes began to shed light, flickering as if purple flames had been lit behind them. It was stunningly beautiful. Everything about her was.
Lalura touched her hand to her heart and resolved to do what she had to do. She’d known the attack would come eventually, but she hadn’t wanted to truly harm her enemy unless it was absolutely necessary. Most people were salvageable. Even at her age, she still firmly believed that.
The woman outside attacked again, this time piercing through the dimensional pocket with spears of hardened air. They had bits of sand in them that interrupted the air’s iridescence. It looked almost like ice. Lalura used her agreement with time and slowed down a bit to take a single step back, saving herself from the razor-sharp point of one of these spears by a few millimeters.
She looked down and watched the long, pointed cone of hardened air slowly turn in place.
“Very well,” she said softly.
The old woman drew her hands together one final time, called for the magic she had hoped not to use, and sent it hurling through the window at her attacker. She both saw and felt her magic beat up against a shield, this one stronger than before. But her power pushed stubbornly past it just enough to touch the woman behind it.
A brush of darkness, and the spell was done.
Quiet once more claimed the desert. Lalura dissolved the dimensional pocket and stepped out. Even now, the remnants of the stranger’s magic were so strong, a breeze continued to whisper around the tall, pale woman’s fallen form. It picked up strands of her violet-white hair and brushed them gently across her beautiful face. Lalura approached the body and said softly, “Scribo Vale.”
A scroll tied with a violet ribbon appeared before the woman’s body.
Then Lalura closed her blue eyes and transported away.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“But I thought Yggdrasil’s seeds were snowflakes?”
“The Great Tree’s fruit is snowflakes. It has but one seed. It was all Yggdrasil could create. The Tree gave it to Winter long ago for safe keeping. Just in case.”
They caught up with William as the trail began to cut through a forest. It wasn’t as gradual a transition as it would have been on Earth. In Dvalin, there were plush grass and wild flowers one step, and in the next, the grass was split by the trunks of trees so tall, they reminded Poppy of the redwoods back home. The branches reached far overhead, shunning the sunlight and providing a shaded, eerie feel to the forest’s depths. Poppy tried to see completely through the forest in order to determine about when they would be popping out the other side of the woods, but somewhere in the crowd of trees, all light was lost and the trail pretty much disappeared.
“These are the kinds of woods people write fairy tales about,” she said softly as they moved deeper into the thick. Their boots made that wonderful leather-on-stone sound Poppy had always adored, and suddenly she realized something. She was at that very moment living every dream she’d ever had. But for a bit of private and thrilling tenderness between her legs, nothing hurt her right now. She felt tall and beautiful and powerful. She was wearing her favorite outfit – her best jeans, her most flattering white top, and her colorful scarf – and favorite pair o
f boots. And she was walking on a cobbled-stone path through unbelievably beautiful, dark and spooky woods, escorted by two drop-dead gorgeous men, one of which she’d actually slept with.
She glanced up at that particular gorgeous man and a shiver went through her at the study of his outline. She imagined him on his throne, calmly formidable. She imagined him in that final battle, wielding that sword of ice as if it were an extension of him. And she pictured him on that motorcycle she’d first seen him leaning against – the one she’d obliterated.
She found herself grinning ear to ear. It doesn’t get better than this.
He suddenly came to a stop, and his arm snaked down, his hand spanning her abdomen to bring her to a halt. “Wait.”
Beside him, William stopped as well, and his head cocked as if he were listening. Poppy really wanted to ask, “What is it?” but that would probably utterly defeat the purpose of standing very still and listening. It was obvious they didn’t know what it was. They were trying to figure it out.
Poppy listened as well. She strained as she very slowly looked through the forest around her. Once, years ago, she’d been given a 1,000 piece puzzle as a gift for Christmas. It was one of those puzzles that had four different ways in which you could hang it, meaning there were four different bottoms, depending on which image you wanted as your “main” image. Her favorite of the four had been a forest with a path through it. The forest had been so flawless, with straight, tall trees growing up from a smooth grassy forest floor devoid of underbrush or sticker bushes or anything else that could mar its perfection. The path had been white stone and clean, free of trash or weeds. It had been the ultimate fantasy setting, which was the only reason she actually went through all the trouble of putting the damn thing together.
That scene was almost exactly what she looked into now as she peered hard into its far shadows and attempted to make out what could have brought Kristopher to a stand-still. After what must have been several full minutes, she finally looked back up at him and was about to ask him what was going on.
And then he spun, and she was shoved behind him and into William’s arms as Kristopher moved so fast, he literally blurred. His figure flashed, shifting from black leather jacket-wearing hottie to Thor-like god, replete with a massive sword of ice in his right hand. Crackling ice spread like wildfire from the path and across the grass with terrifying speed. Within milliseconds, it had climbed up the trunks of the nearest trees.
Something had been behind them, something very large and indescribably quiet, since no matter how hard she had tried, Poppy had not been able to hear it approach. But Kristopher’s sword swung a single arc and stopped – and everything came to a stand-still once more as the enormous brown figure that had been behind them on the path shifted forms as well, and the tip of Kristopher’s mighty weapon finally rested threateningly in the hollow of a skinny young man.
Less than a full second had been all the time it took for the ice to spread, for Kris to change, and for this stranger before them to go from giant monster to small, harmless looking man.
The first thing that went through Poppy’s mind upon seeing the stranger was the word “brown.” He had thick brown hair, large brown eyes, light brown skin, and wore plain brown clothes, all of the same hue. His boots even managed to be brown, and Poppy could not tell exactly what material they were crafted from. She hadn’t really seen anything like them before.
“Your majesty,” the man greeted Kris, giving a very slight bow of just his head. He couldn’t move much more than that, though he also seemed completely unworried that there was a blade so close to his throat. “I apologize for approaching in my natural form. I had not known you were visiting.”
Kristopher relaxed, lowering his sword. “Elmheart.” Relief washed over his handsome features. “No, I’m the one who should apologize. I’m here without warning this time.” He sheathed his sword of ice, and it made a wicked sound as it slid into its scabbard. Then Kristopher’s form flashed once more, and he was again dressed in his normal mortal-looking clothing. The ice on the forest floor began to retreat from the nearby tree trunks, shrinking back toward the stone path.
“How do you fare?” Kris asked conversationally.
“Quite well, thank you,” replied the small man. His brown eyes shifted from Kristopher to Poppy. “Who might your lovely new companion be?”
“Elmheart, this is Poppy Nix.” He paused, just a beat. Then, with a big smile, he added, “She is my queen.”
Elmheart’s eyes grew very wide. Now he bowed with his entire body and not just his head. “My lady. It is my undying pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He looked up from his bent position, and a teasing gleam took his eyes. “I had begun to believe Kris was lying about his prowess with those of the female persuasion. He’s been waiting for the right girl for more than a millennium, you know.”
Poppy sucked in her lips.
Kristopher crossed his arms over his chest.
Elmheart stood back up and grinned. “I’m so pleased you’ve proven me wrong for beginning to doubt! I can’t wait to show you to the Dragon Council,” he said to Poppy. “Eweness owes me thirty seed. You’ll be happy to hear, Kristopher, I bet on you and not against you where this is concerned.”
“You placed bets on whether he would ever take a queen?” asked William, his smile quietly bemused.
“Oh yes,” nodded Elmheart energetically.
“It means nothing,” said Kristopher darkly. “The Sapplings have a gambling problem. They bet on everything.” He gave Elmheart a reprimanding look, then said, “Speaking of seeds, I must talk with Dvalin. The matter is urgent.”
Again, Elmheart took on a wide-eyed expression, and he nodded. “Oh dear, of course! Follow me!” He turned and began running down the path, further into the forest.
“Elmheart!” called Kristopher.
The man skidded to a halt and turned to face them. Kristopher shook his head. “Don’t you think it would be a lot faster if you took us there in your true form?”
Elmheart’s face lit up. “Oh, yes! Right!” He nodded.
Poppy gasped as the forest’s trees suddenly shifted further away from the path. They actually seemed to move – to just slide to the side, away from the stone trail. A second later, she realized that the extra space had been necessary.
Elmheart’s small, skinny stature swelled, and his figure morphed. Poppy stared in wonder as the tiny man that had been standing before them a moment earlier grew by leaps and bounds to become an honest to goodness dragon. Now she knew why so much of him had been brown. In dragon form, he looked to be made entirely of wood.
Kristopher looked down at Poppy; she could see and feel him staring at her. But she couldn’t take her eyes off Elmheart’s new form. Beside her, Kristopher chuckled. “This is Elmheart Everwood,” he told her through that laughter. “The forest dragon.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
I’m riding a dragon.
She forced herself to take another breath, because she kept forgetting to do so and she kept not breathing.
I’m freaking riding a freaking dragon!
What she’d thought earlier, while she’d been walking on that path through the woods. What she’d mused about life not getting better than that – well, she’d been wrong. It could totally get better than that. And it just had!
She laughed out loud, barely refraining from giving a massive whoop as Elmheart dipped beneath her, making her stomach ride up a little into her throat. Her face was grinning so hard, her cheeks were starting to hurt.
The wind whipped through her hair, her eyes were watering, and her hands were clasped so tightly in Elmheart’s fur, she didn’t know if she’d be able to get them unclenched again. It was like being in an airplane with the dips making the seat leave your ass and the rises making you sink further into it, except there were no walls to protect you from the elements.
Oh yeah. And there was one more very important difference. Whereas, it would take a syringe fille
d with surgical anesthesia to get her on a plane, Poppy wasn’t terrified of this. Magic, good and strong, kept her on the dragon, and there were no engines that could suddenly give out on either side of her. So there was no chance of her falling off and very little chance of the plane falling out from under her. And that made all the difference in the world.
Kris had even let her sit in the front. Of course, that might have just been because he wanted to keep an eye on her. His steely arms had yet to leave their places firmly wrapped around her mid-section.
“Let us down in the courtyard!” Kris called, speaking over Poppy’s shoulder. The dragon gave a nod of its enormous head and took another dip. Poppy gasped as her stomach again took up brief residence in her throat and the winged beast angled for the castle below. It was the same castle she’d seen in the distance from their vantage point atop the hill where they’d first come through the portal.
It really is made of gemstones. She’d thought it might have been a trick of the light, like sequins under the sun. But there was no trick. The castle was literally built out of what looked like one gigantic single piece of multi-hued sapphire. It rainbowed from green to blue, blue to purple, from purple to red and into orange and yellow before starting the pattern all over again. She wondered why she wasn’t going blind from some kind of glare until she realized it was because the castle seemed to be absorbing light rather than releasing it.
“Amazing,” she whispered aloud.
“It’s alive,” Kris whispered in her ear.
Poppy’s brow furrowed. “What?” she asked over her shoulder.
He grinned. “You’ll see.”
Elmheart let them down with incredible gentility. One second, he was hovering above the thick grass of the courtyard, and the next, he was at a full stop and Kris and William were sliding off. Kristopher got off first and reached up, taking Poppy around the waist to ease her down. She let him. Sometimes it was nice to be the girl.
The Winter King Page 16