Snow Queen fhk-4

by Mercedes Lackey

  And the driver, seemingly indifferent to everything around him, was Veikko.

  Annukka let the comb continue to do its work for a moment longer, then put her hand up to it. It stopped, and fell into her hand.

  She held it, and simply looked at the Snow Witch, neither showing subservience nor fear.

  The Witch looked possessively at the gleaming comb in her hand. “Your comb,” she said abruptly. “I want it.”

  “I can well imagine,” Annukka replied, neutrally. “There is not another like it in the world.”

  The Witch's eyes practically lit up with greed. “I will give you a diamond the size of my hand,” she said.

  Annukka shook her head. “I do not want diamonds. I want an hour with that man — ” and she pointed at Veikko.

  The Witch barked a startled laugh. “With my leman? Why? It will do you no good. He is mine, heart and mind and soul, and even if he were not, you are old enough to be his mother!”

  Aleksia held her breath. Tell only the truth, she silently urged Annukka. Only the truth would serve them here. Every lie would make the Witch's power stronger.

  “As it happens, I am his mother,” said Annukka, mildly. The Witch started, and laughed. Annukka held out the comb. “One hour, alone with him, and this is yours.”

  “You may not take him by force,” the Witch said sharply. “He will come no farther than the gate. And you may not have those companions I see lurking there anywhere near him.”

  “Done,” said Annukka, and the Barrier came briefly down, the gate swung open and Veikko came down stiffly from the driver's seat of the sleigh and walked across to his mother. The Barrier went up again, in a flash of blue, looking like the Northern Lights.

  “Give the comb to him,” said the Witch from her sleigh.

  Annukka did so. Veikko pocketed the comb with no sign of recognition, and stood beside the gate, indifferently.

  Then began what Aleksia was sure was possibly the most painful hour of Annukka's life, except perhaps when her husband had died. As Veikko stood there with about the same amount of expression as the gateposts, she begged him to recognize her. A cruel smile fixed itself on the Witch's face as she watched Annukka and listened to her pleading. Annukka used every ploy she could think of, telling Veikko stories out of his own childhood, reminding him of past joys and sorrows, scolding him, praising him, weeping over him. She sang him lullabies, described the cloak she was making for him. All to no avail. And when she had talked, wept, begged herself hoarse, the last moments of the hour trickled away, the Barrier dropped, Veikko turned on his heel and left her, and the gates closed and the Barrier came up again. As they all watched, Veikko took his seat as the driver of the sleigh again, handed the Witch her comb, took up the reins and turned the horses. With a final triumphant smile, the Witch was driven back to her mockery of a Palace.

  Lemminkal sprinted for the gate, gathered Annukka in his arms and led her away to the rest. When the pair reached Ilmari, Aleksia and Urho, they could all see that she was sobbing silently. Once among friends, Lemminkal folded his arms around her and let her sob into his chest, silently stroking her hair.

  There was silence for a long time, as Annukka cried herself out.

  Lemminkal cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

  “Well,” he said, carefully. “Tomorrow, we will have to work even harder.”

  Lemminkal sat at the gates of the Witch's Palace, on the stump they had put there yesterday. He was not dressed in finery; instead, he was wearing his shabbiest and most ill-used clothing. They had the Witch's attention, after all, and now she knew how the game was to be played. So Lemminkal was playing the feeble, absentminded old man, and providing a contrast, given his dilapidated condition, to the kantele on his lap. The last thing they wanted the Witch to know was that he was a Warrior-Mage.

  Ilmari and Aleksia had debated over the presentation for some time last night. The truth was, the men didn't have anything that was the equal of Aleksia's outfit, and they didn't have time nor the energy to spare to conjure one up — not even if they used one of his two existing sets of clothing to build from. Granted, they could put an illusion over Lemminkal, but the Witch could probably see through illusion, and she would laugh at them. So Ilmari's reasoning had gone, and eventually Aleksia had agreed with him.

  Lemminkal carefully unwrapped the kantele from the hide it had been stored in, and put it into position on his knees. He plucked three of the strings, then took his hands away, and the kantele began to play by itself.

  This time, there was no snow-servant to ask what it was that they wanted. The Witch drove down from the Palace with Veikko, and sat in her sleigh, staring with lust at the kantele.

  “I have not heard music in a very long time,” she said, in hushed tones. “And even then — it was never music like this! Will it play for anyone, as the comb works for anyone?”

  “Yes,” Lemminkal said, simply.

  “And what do you want for it?” the Witch asked breathlessly, her eyes fixed on the strings. “I will give you all the gold you can carry away.”

  “There is not another like it in the world,” Lemminkal replied. “And we want the same as yesterday. One hour, with him.”

  The Witch barked a startled laugh. “I could make you as rich as a king!” she scoffed. “I could give you near-immortality! I could give you an army of snow creatures so that you could go out and seize power wherever you choose! What kind of fool are you?”

  Lemminkal just smiled. “Give me an hour and find out.”

  With a shrug, the Witch brought down the Barrier, and once again, Veikko crossed, to stand indifferently in the face of everything that Lemminkal could think of to bring to bear on him.

  At the end of the hour, the result was the same. Veikko crossed back to the carriage. The Witch watched him, with an odd glance cast at Lemminkal, and again, they returned to her Palace.

  When Lemminkal, Annukka, Aleksia and Ilmari returned to camp, they found Kaari in what could only be described as a state. She was not hysterical, not yet, but it was very clear that with a small push, she could be.

  “I tried and tried!” she said frantically, her fists balled up in Urho's fur. The Bear winced, but said nothing and did not try to pull away. “There wasn't even a glimmer! There was nothing! And we have no more treasures to offer! What are we to do?”

  “Stop.” Aleksia held up a hand. She had just felt a now-familiar chill on the back of her neck, and out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of something pale…. She grasped Kaari by the shoulders and turned her to face in that direction. Slowly, the Icehart stepped forward, toward them. As the firelight touched its face, they could see it was weeping. It bowed its head to Aleksia — or was it to Kaari? — and uttered a low moan. Then it faded out and was gone. And Aleksia knew, in that moment, what Kaari was to offer the Witch.

  “I do not think it is an accident that the Icehart followed us here,” Aleksia said, in a low voice. “I do not think that it is an accident that it left that crystal with us. It wants us to put that stone in her hands. And when that happens — I think the Icehart holds the key to defeating her. Now. This is what you will do tomorrow. You will go to the gate and you will sit, without any treasure in your hands. The Witch will not think that she has anything to fear from a pretty, helpless-looking girl like you.” Aleksia's chin firmed. “But she will be wrong.”

  Kaari sat quietly at the gate to the Snow Witch's Palace, hands folded in her lap, doing nothing. Aleksia and the others stood by, as they had for the past two days. The tension in the air was so palpable that even some of the villagers had ventured out of their houses to stand beside their doors and watch. Poor Kaari was as pale as the snow around her, but her hands had not trembled and her voice had been firm as she had rehearsed what she was to say.

  It took longer for the Witch to emerge this time, perhaps because Kaari had nothing obvious to attract her attention. But curiosity got the better even of her, and eventually, out she came.r />
  Annukka wondered if Kaari would break when she got her first glimpse of Veikko. Fiercely, she willed the girl to hold — and aside from a single strangled sob when Veikko did not even look at her, hold she did.

  “Well?” the Witch called, when Kaari said, and displayed, nothing. “What do you want?”

  “I have something better than either of the first gifts,” Kaari replied, her voice sounding breathless, but not shaky. “But it is so precious that I think it should be put directly in your hands so that you can see it for yourself.” She gulped. “You must open the Barrier at the gate for me, and let me inside.”

  “Your friends may not pass,” the Witch countered, with a faint sneer in their direction. “They had their chance and failed, and I don't trust them not to try to — renegotiate our bargain. But you don't look as if you have the courage to frighten a rabbit.” She looked down her nose at Kaari. “Very well. You may come inside.”

  She gestured, and the Barrier dropped. Kaari got up and walked un-steadily across the place where it had been.

  “Well?” the Witch said sharply.

  Wordlessly, Kaari reached into the pocket of her coat and offered the Witch the strange blue crystal, shaped like half a heart, that Aleksia had given to her.

  To her obvious surprise, and Aleksia's fierce joy, the Witch's face — changed. She lost the sneer and the superior attitude. In fact, had any of them put a name to that expression at that moment, it would probably have been “shock.” The Witch, face gone paper-white, reached out and carefully took the crystal. Cradling it in both hands, she stood there staring at it.

  Kaari ran to Veikko.

  But Veikko was paying no attention to her, or to anyone else. He was indifferent to the Witch's state, and he didn't recognize Kaari. As she flung her arms about him, he looked down at her with a puzzled expression, as if he was trying to think, not of who she was, but how to get rid of this unwanted encumbrance.

  Behind Aleksia there was a sound of wind in lonely valleys, and the unsettling sensation that suddenly she was alone on an empty glacier — utterly alone. And always had been. And always would be. Forever, living — and dying — alone. She shuddered, and a little moan escaped her. And it was at that moment that she felt someone's hand fumble for hers.

  Ilmari —

  Warmth spread from his hand to hers, even through their fur gloves. And warmth from hers to his. Suddenly the loneliness receded, as snow does from a fire. It was still out there — but it could not touch her anymore.

  From behind came a breath of bitter cold, the tinkle of shattering ice —

  And the Icehart shouldered them all gently aside as it pushed its way through and past them, and walked with slow, deliberate footsteps toward the gate, toward the heart and toward the one holding the heart.

  Aleksia smothered an exclamation. Ilmari's hand clamped on her hand with excitement. “Now she's done it!” he muttered. “Now she's let the enemy in! Now she is going to pay, and pay, and pay — ”

  They waited, breathlessly, for the Icehart to attack.

  It did nothing of the sort.

  It simply stood there, staring at the Witch. The Witch stared into the crystal, then slowly turned her head to look at the Icehart without any sign of recognition.

  But now Aleksia could see the form of a man faintly over that of the deer.

  Her eyes widened as enlightenment dawned. “Ilmari! Annukka!” she hissed. “Help me! I must spellcast now!”

  Bringing her free hand up in a beckoning gesture, she suddenly felt a tidal wave of Traditional magic engulf her. She gathered it up, spun it around her, building it into the one spell, the first spell that every Godmother learned when she first was allowed to do the truly Kingdom-shattering magics —

  The Spell of Restoration.

  You learned to do it — that did not mean you ever would. You might never see that much power in your lifetime. The Spell of Restoration had one purpose — it restored. It put things back the way they should be. It was possible, it was said, for it to raise the dead with enough power. That would be the power of a god — and so far as Aleksia knew, no one had ever done that. But with enough power behind it, the kind that a Godmother might see in her lifetime, it could make everything right again.

  She felt Ilmari steady her, heard Annukka humming to help her hold the form of the spell in the dizzying rush of power. She felt the words forming in her mind. Simple words, for the strongest spells were the simplest. She was the center of a hurricane of power, but within it, she could feel the others, steadying her, feeding her. Kaari, burning hot with love and devotion. Annukka and Lemminkal, pillars of steadfast affection. Urho, a mountain of loyalty. Ilmari, holding firm, decent and honorable, scarred with harsh lessons, but the stronger for all that. And all of them holding the same vision to make it right for everyone.

  All will be well — naught shall go ill. Let joy return again — so this I will!

  The Spell completed, it exploded like a firework only she and her helpers could see. She felt it spread all across this part of the world, felt the power wash over the villagers and instantly melt the ice that had bound their souls in fetters harder than iron, felt the moment that they became human again.

  But what was immediately in front of her was that the Icehart, the great spirit stag, transformed in an instant to the fairly tangible spirit of a man, and speechlessly held out his arms to the Snow Witch.

  The Witch stared at him, dumbfounded, too overcome by shock to show the joy that was about to erupt inside her. But it was there. It was there — the heart was thawing, and in a moment, it would all burst out.

  And then it did. Tears sprung into her eyes, and her voice was fraught with mingled anguish and love. “I thought you lost! I swore I would never love again, nor let any other love exist!”

  The spirit sighed and in his voice was the sound of wind in all the mournful places of the world. “An enemy caught me far away, all unaware and alone and bound me to the form of the Icehart. I swore I would walk the world until I found you again, but the magic you held against love kept me out, until these helped me in.”

  There was a trembling in the air, as something in the Snow Witch's power weakened and broke. Veikko made a small sound, and dropped to his knees, staring at the Witch. The Witch and the spirit rushed to each other and fell into each others' arms.

  Kaari, who had been crying silently, bent to embrace Veikko protectively. Her tears fell on his face.

  There was another sensation of trembling, then of cracking. The light suddenly came back into his eyes, and he recognized her.

  “Kaari?” he said incredulously. She uttered a wordless cry of relief and love and joy. With a sound like thunder, the snow-servants burst apart, the Barrier evaporated and the Palace cracked in half and began to cave in on itself, as the wall around the palace shook. The man who had been the Icehart, and the woman who had been the Snow Witch, paid no heed, blissfully lost in each other's arms.

  Ilmari uttered an oath and ran into the gate, with Lemminkal close behind. They seized Kaari and Veikko and fled with them just as the earth shook, cracked, ice-fog erupted from the cracks obscuring the pair still clasped in an unbreakable embrace and the wall began to tumble down.

  Epilogue

  “So…this is all that is left of them?”

  Aleksia shrugged. “I have no idea,” she replied to Ilmari. “But those trees weren't there before.”

  There was no sign, now, that anything had ever been here. Palace, walls, servants, even the original stone tower, were all gone. All that was left was an expanse of ice and snow that would probably be a fine meadow in the Spring, with two trees in the midst of it. One was an ash, one a linden, and they were twined so closely about each other that there was no telling where one ended and the next began. They were leafless now, but Aleksia sensed a vitality in them that meant that when Spring came, they would make a glorious show.

  Behind them, the village once called “Misery” was now looking a great de
al less dour. People spoke to each other in the streets, houses were being repaired, children played. Lemminkal and Annukka had performed six marriages already, and there was talk of building a church and finding a priest.

  No one wanted to talk about the way things had been. Aleksia did not blame them. She actually hoped that the Spell of Restoration had cleansed some of that from their minds, and replaced it with dimmed memories. No one deserved to have the memory of that kind of inhumanity on his shoulders.

  Kaari and Veikko had already been sent home with Urho pulling their sledge. They would be living in Annukka's house for now….

  And now the four who were left were waiting for the Godmother's sleigh that Rosemary had sent, and surveying the changed landscape.