Bane of Winter

by Debbie Cassidy

  The thought of facing something so ominous and powerful made my chest tight. We trudged across the flatlands, with the gentle rise of hills in front of us. “Last night … when I awoke, I thought you’d left.”

  He turned his head sharply to look at me, and then his mouth pressed in a thin line. “I would not leave you willingly, Wynter, this you should know.”

  His words were warm, but they weren’t for me. Not really. “You stay because you think I’m her. You think I’m Morrigan. But I’m not. I’m me.”

  His gaze was on our path now, but his mouth curled in a wry smile. “I know who you are. I stay because I believe in you and what you can do for us all. I stay because I refuse to die a coward. This blight on our lands, this infernal darkness cannot be allowed to win. It cannot be allowed to seep out into the mortal realm. I stay because I would like to be a part of the final stand.”

  The tightness in my chest eased a little. “Well, I’m grateful to you.” I shot him a quick glance. His profile was suddenly much too serious. I wanted the smile back, however wry. “I mean, if you weren’t here, who would I practice my lifesaving skills on?”

  He pouted and nodded, looking thoughtful. “Oh, so my tangle with the toothy pixies to save your life means nothing, then?”

  I shrugged. “Not when you come back all chomped on and then faint at my feet.”

  He let out a bark of laughter. “Remind me not to play chew toy to save your delectable arse next time, hmmm?”

  “Delectable arse?” I scooped up a handful of snow.

  He cleared his throat, sobering instantly, and inclined his head. “I apologize for the—”

  I hit him in the side of the face with a snowball.

  He froze for a long beat, hands splayed like a starfish and held out to the side stiffly.

  A snort erupted from my mouth as he turned his head to look at me with glittering dark eyes.

  I took a step back and arched a brow. “Anyone would think you’d never been hit by a snowball.”

  He shook off the spatters of snow, a slight frown on his face. “No … I remember. I remember this.” He bent down and scooped up a huge ball of snow, and then his mouth curved in a wicked smile. “And I remember this.” He hurled the ball at me.

  I ducked too late. It caught me on the shoulder and knocked me back. “Oh, you’ve asked for it now.”

  The next few minutes were spent in a simple joy, and for those minutes the cloud hovering over my head was forgotten in the pleasure of a childhood game. But like all interludes, this one had to end. With a howl, the wind picked up behind us, reminding me where we were and why. A look over my shoulder revealed an angry, churning gray sky.

  “It’s headed this way,” the Raven said.

  “Then we best get moving.”

  The storm chased us as we jogged across the flatlands and plowed up the rise, doubled over and scraping at the snow with our fingertips. The Raven could have flown, but he remained by my side, a companion in my discomfort.

  We crested the rise, and my heart leapt with hope, because there in the distance was the unmistakable shadow of life—buildings and plumes of black smoke.

  I began to scramble down the hill, my focus on the village a mere mile away. We could get there; we could be there in less than an hour.

  “Wynter, wait!” A hand snagged my elbow and pulled me back.

  “What is it?” I couldn’t keep the irritation out of my tone because we were so close.

  He pointed down. “The lake may not hold your weight.”

  Lake? Oh, God. In my haste to get to the village, I hadn’t even noticed that the expanse between us was a frozen body of water.

  “We have to go around.” The Raven tugged me to the left.

  The route around would take us miles off course. It would mean hours more of walking.

  The clouds above were darkening; the blizzard was almost on us. “We have to go across. We don’t have time to go around.”

  The Raven’s jaw set, and he yanked me toward him, his face a stern mask, and for the first time since coming into contact with him, I felt a frisson of fear in his presence.

  “Do you want to drown?” He hauled me closer, his breath hot on my face. “Do you want to feel your limbs encased in icy water? Do you want it to fill your lungs and freeze you from the inside out?” His fingers bit into my arm. “We go around.”

  I swallowed and nodded. “Fine.”

  He released me and began to stride ahead, and with the lake to our left and the blizzard at our back, we began the convoluted journey to the opposite bank.

  We didn’t get far before ice began to rain down on us and flakes of razor snow began to whirl around us.

  The storm had found us.

  “This way!” The Raven grabbed my hand and pulled me away from the lake and into the brush bordering our path. The blizzard followed, eager to tear us to shreds, but the Raven was quick-footed and sure, tugging me along until we came to a mammoth tree. My heart skipped a beat as we rounded the trunk. Could it be? And, sure enough, there was a dark aperture just like Veles’s home.

  The Raven dove in, pulling me with him, and blessed silence and warmth wrapped itself around us. It was dark as pitch, but the Raven’s hand in mine kept me grounded.

  “How did you know this place was here?”

  “I didn’t. Not for sure. But I’m a raven, and we are adept at finding hidey-holes to shelter in.” His heat enveloped me and then his forehead touched mine. “We’ll be safe here until the storm passes.”

  My aching muscles began to unknot, and I nodded, rubbing my forehead against his. But then a croaky voice sing-songed out of the darkness.

  “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

  Chapter Six

  My dagger was out in a flash, but the Raven was faster. His preternatural senses had him flying across the chamber, and then something gasped and choked.

  “Speak your name,” the Raven demanded.

  More choking sounds.

  Oh, dear. “Um, Raven, maybe you should ease up on the strangulation?”

  Sputters were followed by a gasp. “How dare you? This is my home.”

  “Your name?” the Raven insisted.

  “Not likely.”

  “Then I’ll just have to break your neck.”

  “No!”

  “Name.”

  “Nilihan. My name is Nilihan.”

  “Is Nilihan your birth-given name?” the Raven pressed.

  “Yes, yes, now let me go, you nobby-chomper.”

  There was a scuffle followed by the flare of a match, and the darkness bloomed with light.

  A wrinkled face glared up at us, but my gaze shot up to the wicked-sharp cleaver held aloft in the tiny man’s hand. Thank goodness his wrist was pinned to the gnarly wall.

  “I don’t appreciate intruders. No siree. I really don’t.” Spittle flew from his rubbery lips.

  The Raven let go of the man. “Put it down.” He turned his back on the tiny man.

  The man’s arm vibrated as if he wanted to do anything but that, but then with a cry of exasperation he dropped the cleaver and slumped into a crouch. He put his head in his hands and began to sob.

  The Raven rolled his eyes. “Ignore him. Hobbits have a tendency of being overly dramatic.”

  But the tiny sobbing man tugged at my heart. He’d been minding his own business, and we’d invaded his home.

  I glanced about at the rough bark walls and the pile of small bones shoved against the far wall. Rags and furs were laid neatly to the right, and the evidence of a fire lingered in the center of the space.

  I took a step around the ring of stones that contained the remnants of his hearth. “I’m sorry for the intrusion, and so sorry if my friend hurt you.”

  His shoulders stopped shaking, and he raised his walnut face and looked at me with his huge brown eyes, warm and chocolatey in the lamplight.

  “You may as well kill me now. For a hobbit who has lost his name is no hobbit at all.�
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  His gaze narrowed and slipped over my shoulder to stab at Raven.

  “Relax,” the Raven said, gently gripping my elbow and steering me away from the hobbit. “Your name is safe with me. It is merely an assurance that you will do us no harm while we wait out this storm.”

  The hobbit’s gaze dropped to his cleaver, and his tongue flicked out to moisten his lips. A shudder of apprehension shot through me, and I backed up instinctively just as a gust of air blew in through the aperture. It teased the nape of my neck and my crown before circling the inside of the trunk and finding its way out.

  The hobbit’s nostrils flared, his eyes rolled in his head, and a low moan slipped from his lips. My pulse began to hammer.

  “It’s all right.” The Raven led me to the entranceway and then sat down on the ground, pulling me down beside him. “He can’t hurt us. We know his name, and therefore, we have power over him.”

  Then why was he so tense? Why was his tone so tight?

  “What is she?” the hobbit said. “That smell … Divine.”

  The hobbit leaned forward, braced on his knuckles. His nose twitched, and a string of saliva dribbled out of his mouth and hung from his chin.

  “We’ll be gone as soon as the blizzard passes,” the Raven replied. “No harm, no foul.” His tone was terse.

  The hobbit’s eyes were on me now, his nostrils twitching, his mouth working as if swallowing.

  “Raven …” I clutched his arm and gripped my bone dagger tighter.

  But the Raven’s gaze was locked on the hobbit who quivered in the corner. The blizzard wailed and lamented, and inside the warm confines of the tree my veins filled with ice, because there was now no doubt in my mind that if Raven hadn’t acted as fast as he had, this creature would have attacked us with the intent to kill. Our bones would have decorated the pile in the corner.

  He bared his teeth now in a faux smile. “We could be friends …” He tore his gaze from me to the Raven.

  “You take refuge in my home; surely you should pay for the privilege?”

  The Raven was silent.

  The hobbit cocked his head at an angle that was almost unnatural. “A finger. The pinky will do.” He glared at me. “The left or the right, it matters not.”

  I dug my nails into the palms of my hands. “Shut up.”

  His laugh was wet and dirty. “Or maybe a sip from your flower?” He inhaled. “Sweet and recently wet.” He shot Raven a sly look. “Did you do that? Did you make her writhe for you?” He scuttled closer. “You want her. I can smell it on you. Desire, thick and heavy.” He pursed his lips. “I could turn my back. Leave you to rut like rabbits. Would you like that? Would that please you?”

  My neck grew warm.

  “Be silent,” the Raven ordered.

  The hobbit snapped his mouth closed, but the wicked gleam in his eyes remained.

  I had to get out of here. I climbed over the Raven and out into the storm. I stood with my back pressed to the tree, taking huge gulps of air.

  “Wynter.” Raven came to stand in front of me, shielding me from the elements. “Ignore it. It simply wants to disconcert us.”

  I tucked in my chin and pressed my head to his chest. “I know. I just … I needed a minute.”

  I needed to cool down because the little creep’s words had touched on something real. Something I’d been ignoring since the Raven had first brushed his lips across my forehead. I was attracted to the Raven. I was incorrigible and a complete mess of tangled emotion and pent-up desires. Was this her? Was this who I was meant to be?

  He cupped my face and forced me to look at him. “The bond we have will grow stronger as your power manifests and as you connect with Faerie, the land your soul dreamed into being.”

  “I don’t … What are you talking about?”

  “Not now, but soon I will tell you the story of Morrigan. But right now, you must stop running from the connection we share.” His smile was self-deprecating. “I know this draw is confusing, and it can become tangled with other … emotions, feelings, and needs. But I am there for you, no matter what it is you require of me.”

  Did he feel it too? Was he confused? The questions hovered on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them, because now was not the time to try and untangle what it was I was feeling.

  The Raven pulled away. “The storm is passing. We should get going.”

  I glanced at the aperture as we hurried past, grateful that we didn’t have to go back in.

  The lake glistened like a frozen wasteland to our left as we trudged around it. The wind had died down, and the sun was shining bright and proud once more.

  “How long do you think it will take to get around?”

  “We’ll be there by mid-afternoon,” the Raven said. “Hot food and a warm bed for the night.”

  I sighed. “It sounds wonderful.”

  “Maybe some meat in your meal, hmmm?”

  “Oh, God, yes! No more berries.”

  He chuckled softly, the sound like a hug.

  “Help, please. Help.”

  My step faltered. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hmmm?” The Raven kept walking, his hands tucked into the pockets of his pants, as if he were merely out for a stroll.

  “Please. I’m scared.”

  There was a dark smudge on the ice. Movement. I shielded my eyes, making a visor with my palm, and squinted out onto the dazzling expanse.

  “Help me.”

  Oh, God. It was a child. A frightened child on the ice. “Raven!”

  But the Raven was meters away from me now, and then the child went down. No. Not down, it went under. A tinny scream drifted toward me, but I was already in motion, sprinting onto the ice. Unthinking, uncaring.

  “Wynter!”

  The Raven’s voice was loud behind me, but there was no stopping. The child had to be saved. Wait …. Wait, where was it? What? This was the spot. I was sure of it. Where was the child? Where was the broken ice?

  A creaking moan filled the air.

  “Wynter. Do not move.” The Raven’s voice shook.

  I glanced back the way I’d come to see my companion at the edge of the lake, his arms out toward me, hands splayed in warning.

  “Start back now. Slowly,” he instructed.

  I shook my head. “There was a child …”

  “No, Wynter. No, there wasn’t. There isn’t.”

  A low cackle drifted across the groaning lake, and then the hobbit ambled into view. “Know my name. No one knows my name. Can’t harm ya directly, but the lake will have ya. It’ll take you. Drag you down into its icy depths and hold you tight.”

  The Raven moved so fast he was almost a blur, and then the hobbit was in his grasp and in the next moment he was on the ground unmoving. The Raven walked back to the lake’s edge, his expression unreadable from the distance between us, but I didn’t need to be up close and personal to realize what he was thinking.

  I’d been taken for a fool, and now I was going to die. The hobbit had somehow created a mirage on the lake, and now I was trapped, standing on thin ice while it creaked and moaned in its attempt to hold my weight.

  “I’m coming,” the Raven said. “Just hold on.”

  “No!” I held out a hand to ward him off. “You’ll just add more stress to the ice. I can do this.” Breath shuddering in my lungs, I took my first step back to shore.

  I could do this. The ice held. Another and another. I was doing this. The Raven was getting closer, his arms outstretched, ready to pluck me out of danger. Hope cantered in my chest.

  I took another step and a sharp snapping sound cut through the air. My heart stopped, and my gaze dropped to my feet, to the cracks radiating outward from beneath my boot.

  I raised my eyes to meet the Raven’s, a plea forming on my lips, and then the ground fell out from under me.

  Chapter Seven

  Icy claws tore into my body. I bit back my gasp in time to stop myself from swallowing water, but the shock was a thousand razo
rs across my skin, slicing inward. My heart galloped and kicked. Kick. Yes, I had to kick to swim up. But my hands met resistance. Ice above me. Punch it. Get out. Why wouldn’t my limbs work properly? Needed to breathe. Oh, God, I needed to breathe. A strange heat bloomed in my solar plexus, and my limbs stopped listening to my brain’s commands. Was I falling?

  Wake up. Get up.

  Wha … That voice … I knew that voice. But it was so far away… Falling …

  I didn’t brand you to die in an icy lake. No, this won’t do.

  My neck flared with searing heat and every synapse in my body fizzed to life. My legs began to kick as if in delayed response to my brain’s instructions. Air. I needed air. I needed out. Light above, gleaming through the ice. My fists slamming against the barrier ineffectually. I had to breathe. I needed to—

  The world above me shattered and then a hand was grasping my hair, and my head broke the surface of the water in time for the gasp that would have killed me. Sweet air rushed into my frozen lungs as my body was dragged across the ice.

  Creaks and groans and curses. I was a limp rag doll, and then I was a limp rag doll being slung over a shoulder. My body was on fire, a cold burning fire that made me want to scream, but all that emerged was a whimper. Icy wind blew through my wet clothes, and my body began to tremble.

  “Hold on, Wynter. Hold on.”

  Darkness surrounded us, and then I was lowered to the ground. The Raven’s hands were on me, stripping off my clothes.

  “We have to get you dry,” he explained. “Get you warm.”

  Darkness hovered at the edges of my vision.

  “No. Stay awake.”

  Darkness took me.

  “Wynter. Come on.”

  Hands on my bare skin, rubbing hard, painful. Stop. Just leave me.

  Rasping, scratchy sensations over my legs and my arms. And then something warm and silken and taut pressing against my back. Arms around my waist.

  “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay,” he promised.

  Hot breath on my nape, kisses on my cheek.