WinterMaejic

by Terie Garrison

  I shook my head violently.

  “Perhaps you’re right. Maybe it’ll stop soon. At least it’s pretty. But it’ll be cold camping tonight.”

  I hadn’t thought of that, but the thought of turning back threatened to send waves of panic through me. We couldn’t turn back now; we just couldn’t. Every step closer to the mountains was one step closer to people who could help me.

  We kept on through the day, not stopping for a midday meal. I wasn’t hungry anyway, and Grey just ate as we went.

  It kept snowing, and all afternoon we made our way through a fresh, wintery landscape. If we’d been out in the open, the snow would probably have been more than six inches deep. Since we were in the woods, it wasn’t quite so bad, but it still slowed us down, especially Chase, who didn’t venture far ahead all afternoon.

  Despite the fact that I hadn’t done anything all day except sit on a horse, I was exhausted by the time Grey halted for the night. The spot he’d chosen to camp was heavily wooded and protected from the prevailing wind by a huge boulder. He helped me off Grey’s back, and as I walked around a bit, I discovered how stiff I’d gotten. I’d be sore—very sore—in the morning. Grey started a fire, and while he prepared supper, I did some stretches. He laughed when I winced in pain, and I shot him the dirtiest look I could, which only made him laugh more. I shook my head in mock disgust, imagining how I’d pay him back, if only I could. Say, a handful of snow down the back of his shirt.

  And just then, a mass of snow dropped off a branch above and onto Grey’s head. He shouted in surprise, jumped to his feet, and shook the stuff off. Chase barked in glee. I would have laughed had the coincidence been less uncanny.

  Grey looked up just in time to get a faceful of snow. A groaning sound seemed to come from all around us, and I got to my feet, ready to move away from this new threat.

  Suddenly Grey shot to my side and pulled me away from the fire, just as the trees shed their load of snow. With a huge FLUMP, the flames were out and our dinner buried. Chase barked even louder, but Grey just stared.

  “Never seen anything like that happen before,” he said, shaking his head. “But then, I don’t usually build quite so big a fire. See what I get for trying to keep you warm?”

  I looked at him in surprise, but found him looking sidelong at me with a smirk. I clouted his shoulder with a fist, then motioned to the fire.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll get right on it.” He quickly set about clearing the snow away and restarting the fire.

  As supper cooked and Grey gathered more dry wood for the night, I thought about the day. Grey seemed to have relaxed, as if outside, he was in his element. Everything had felt awkward back in the house, almost formal, as if my presence made him feel like a visitor in his own home. Out here, he was joking around with me, and I was beginning for the first time to feel comfortable around him. All in one short day.

  After we’d eaten, there didn’t seem to be much point in trying to stay awake. It wasn’t as if we could chat. I yawned.

  Grey took several heavy blankets and an oilcloth out of a saddle bag. He lay everything out neatly, then patted the bedding.

  “Time for beddy-bye.”

  I smiled and gave him a playful knock on the side of his head.

  “You go to sleep, and don’t worry about anything. I’ll tend the fire.”

  He helped me bury myself in the covers, including the cloaks and my fur. I felt almost warm enough as I drifted off to sleep.

  Word has arrived from my son. All goes according to plan. The mages have been scattered and many killed. Fortunate ones, who went to their deaths unaware of impending defeat.

  Today, for the humor of it, I tested Wals’ Cursed Book of Secret Knowledge. I forced a lowly scribe’s apprentice to try to read from it. No sooner did she set eyes to the page then she fell over in convulsions. Long she agonized. I wearied of her noise and had her carried away. They reported back that it was many hours before death came.

  How many others have performed this test? How many have failed it?

  My body might have been stiff, sore, and in need of rest, but my mind churned through the night, leading me from one bad dream to another. I had that strange feeling of being aware that I was dreaming but not being able to wake up.

  I ran through a pathless forest, zigging and zagging this way and that. It was a matter of great urgency, but I didn’t know whether I ran toward something or away from it. The forest turned into clouds, and I was flying, soaring above the treetops, gliding effortlessly over mountains. Then I faltered. Down, down, I plummeted to the ground. It rose quickly, and there was nothing I could do to arrest my speed as faster and faster I fell. I landed facedown, but didn’t die. My heartbeat sped up. Then I was being crushed; a heavy weight against my back pressed me into the gaping earth.

  I awoke with a start in a terrified sweat. Weight pressed against my front and back. My heart thumped frantically in my chest and in my ears, and I could scarcely breathe. I gasped for air and pushed myself upright, tears streaming down my cheeks.

  “What? Huh?” Grey’s voice behind me. I swivelled around to find him lying under the covers next to me. He sat up in alarm. “What’s happened? Donavah?”

  Chase’s cold nose touched my cheek, then he licked my chin a single time.

  Aother bad dream, that’s all it had been. I tried to gain control over myself, but failed. Grey drew close to me, wrapping his arms protectively around me. At first he seemed tentative and awkward, as if unsure how I would respond. But it was a surprising relief to let myself go. I wept harder than I yet had, quickly soaking the front of Grey’s shirt with my tears. He just held me, sometimes gently stroking my hair or patting my back.

  As my emotion spent itself and the fear subsided, I relaxed against his chest. I could hear his strong heartbeat, reassuringly slow and steady. When I finally grew calm, Grey took my chin in his hand and turned my face up to his. He looked deep into my eyes. I wished more than ever before that I could say something, then realized that I had no idea what I would say. But I didn’t look away.

  A log on the fire chose that moment to break apart with a small explosion, startling us all and making Chase let out a sharp yip.

  “I better tend the fire.” Grey let me go and rose to his feet. I watched him as he moved with catlike grace, every motion compact, every sense alert to what was going on around him. A true woodsman. With a heavy stick he knocked the pieces of burning wood together until they were a heap of red-hot coals, then he placed a large log atop the pile. “Um, I suppose I should have mentioned something, but you fell asleep before I could.” I looked at him in confusion. “I mean, well, you know, sleeping with you. No, I mean . . .” His voice trailed off, and though it was too dark to see, I felt sure he was blushing. “I mean, if we share the blankets, we’ll be warmer. So that’s why I was sleeping with you like that—back to back. Chase must have curled up against your stomach. That’s probably what woke you up.”

  Well, not quite, but I couldn’t explain it to him, so I just nodded and smiled my understanding.

  “Is that all right? I, um, I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

  If he’d wanted to do something to harm me, he could have done it long ago without going to the trouble to bring me out here. I patted the bedding next to me, then lay down on my side and pulled the blankets over myself. Chase nosed his way under the covers and curled up along my stomach again.

  For several more minutes, Grey crouched by the fire, poking the embers and adding another small log. Once he was satisfied, he came back to the improvised bed. He slid under the covers and lay down, his back to mine. Now the weight around me made me feel safe, and the last thing I heard before I dropped off into a contented sleep was the gentle popping of the campfire.

  I didn’t wake up again until first light. Chase still lay next to me, curled up a
gainst my hip. Grey was heating water over the freshly stoked fire, but the spot where he’d lain next to me was still warm. I sighed silently as I sat up, rubbing my eyes with my fists.

  Grey noticed the movement and looked at me with a shy smile. Nothing had happened; we’d only slept under the same blankets. But that had been enough to change our relationship.

  Grey came over and helped me into my cloak. As long as I stayed near the fire, which he’d built high, I was warm enough. The snow had continued falling through the night, although the thick woods in which we’d camped had protected us from the worst of it. Still, it would make traveling today even slower than it had been yesterday.

  Once we’d all eaten breakfast—Chase and Hallin, too—Grey broke camp. I helped kick snow and earth onto the fire, and soon we were on our way again.

  For the next two days, our eastward progress was slow but steady. I began to get more and more nervous about having to admit to Grey that once we reached the mountains, I had no idea where to go.

  On the fourth morning, we’d been underway for an hour or two when the wind kicked up and the temperature dropped. Chase drew close to Grey, who looked at the sky with a worried expression.

  “This weather is very strange. It feels like a blizzard, but there weren’t any signs that one was coming. If it gets worse, we’re going to have to stop or else risk getting lost in the storm.”

  Soon, the snow was falling so heavily that we couldn’t see more than a few feet ahead. Wind swirled around us in every direction, and Grey’s hat went flying. Chase darted after it and brought it back.

  We halted. Grey had to shout to make himself heard over the howling wind.

  “We better build a fire now while we still can—if we still can.” He helped me off Hallin’s back. I stood leaning against the steaming shoulder of the horse while Grey gathered wood and started a fire next to a large boulder. I drew near and held out my hands, wishing the heat of the flames would finally loosen my fists and return the use of my hands. I was so tired of being useless and—worse—helpless.

  Soon a large pile of wood lay ready near the fire. Grey took the bedding out of Hallin’s packs, and we huddled up together, wrapping blankets around ourselves. Grey put a tentative arm around my shoulders, and I leaned against him. His chest rose and fell in a quick sigh. Despite the weather raging around us, I suddenly felt comfortable and cozy.

  We sat, just listening to the wind roar. Every once in awhile, Grey tossed more wood onto the fire. Chase sat in front of us, his back to the fire, wagging his tail. I reached out and rubbed the top of his head with my knuckles.

  The snow fell thicker and faster, piling up high beyond the reach of the fire’s heat. And still we sat in companionable reverie.

  Chase’s whine startled me out of a doze. I tried to figure out what was unsettling him, but saw nothing except the fire, the wood pile, and deep drifts of snow. Grey looked around, too, and when he saw how high the snow had piled, he jumped to his feet, cursing.

  Hallin stamped at Grey’s abrupt movements. I immediately missed Grey’s body heat and pulled the blankets more tightly around me. He walked around the circle trying to see over the top of the drifted snow. He shook his head.

  “We might have a problem. I’ve never seen anything like this.” He stopped on the far side of the fire, staring out across the snow. “It’s . . . well, it’s unnatural.”

  At those words, my heart seemed to skip a beat. Had Anazian discovered that I’d escaped his trap? If he had, could this storm be caused by him? Could he actually control the weather?

  My heart raced and I began to panic at the thought of Anazian trying to find me, and while I couldn’t do much, I could calm down.

  I closed my eyes and concentrated on slowing my heart, my breathing, my thoughts. I sought my calm center, and to my surprise, found it. I held onto it like a lifeline. I still couldn’t feel any life vibrations around me, but I tried to create my own rhythm.

  I began rocking ever so slightly to the pulse of the wind. I imagined it slowing down, dissipating. I pictured the snow lessening to a light dusting, then stopping entirely. I shook my head. Who was I kidding?

  Then a sharp cry from Grey. He staggered back to me from the other side of the fire, his face ashen. He dropped heavily to the ground by my side. I wanted desperately to ask what was wrong, but he didn’t seem able to speak. He stared blankly at the fire for a moment, then slumped back down in exhaustion. He just lay there, and I pushed the blankets over him. Chase crawled in under the covers. That seemed to be a good idea. I slipped under the blankets myself and lay along Grey’s side, trying to help keep him warm. He shivered intermittently. I nestled closer and put an arm over his chest. He snuggled closer to me. Chase whimpered and pushed his nose under my hand as if for reassurance.

  I lay there, trying to figure out what could have happened. If only I’d been paying attention to Grey instead of concentrating on myself. The only sound was the snapping of the flames and an occasional snort or stamp from Hallin, who stood nearby, head down in dejection. Poor horse; he hadn’t been fed and there was nothing I could do about it.

  Over the next hours I tried unsuccessfully to doze, and I tended the fire as best I could. It got dark soon and quickly, and I feared the blizzard was getting worse.

  The night passed slowly, and Grey didn’t stir at all. He seemed to be unconscious rather than asleep. If he was, we were definitely in trouble. I couldn’t even get food out of the packs, much less care for a sick man. And as for trying to find help, that would be impossible.

  Eventually I managed to fall asleep. Only moments later, it seemed, Grey stirred, and I snapped awake. His head turned from side to side, and he made small moaning noises. I arose and piled more wood onto the fire.

  The sky was brightening, so dawn couldn’t be far off.

  I returned to Grey’s side to find him watching me. He looked exhausted, but at least he was conscious now.

  “Donavah, you’re still here,” he said weakly.

  I nodded, wondering what he meant. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his left hand. I wished I could make him some tea—and I could have used some myself. He sat up, stroking Chase’s head and looking up at me.

  “It must have been a dream. This storm. I . . .” He took a deep breath and let it out again. Then he shook his head as if the physical motion could help clear his thoughts. “I don’t know. It was very strange. But it’s passed now.”

  As he shook his head again, I realized that the wind had stopped blowing. And it had stopped snowing. How had I failed to notice that before?

  “We need to get moving.” Grey rose gingerly to his feet, as if every muscle in his body hurt. I wanted to tell him that we should wait, let him regain some strength, rest a little longer. But the alphabet cloth was still stashed in his pack. Instead, he got the cooking things out and went about making herb tea, putting more sweetening than usual into his cup. I smiled at the realization that I’d become familiar with at least some of his habits in the time we’d been together.

  Soon, we were on our way again. Grey held a much slower pace than he had before, and I wondered how long he’d be able to keep going.

  As we went eastward through the day, I discovered that the low, dark cloud bank I’d glimpsed several times through the trees was actually the mountains. I swallowed. How would I ever find Xyla and the others? Maybe if I still had my maejic. But I didn’t. Before long, Grey would ask me where we were going. And I would have to admit that I didn’t know, that I’d let him bring me all this way, in this horrible weather, on a wild goose chase.

  Just then, a huge raven swooped down on us, startling Hallin out of his steady plod and causing Chase to start barking wildly. The horse reared up, pawing at the bird, which circled overhead cawing. With no way to hold onto anything, I slid backwards off Hallin’s rump, landing with a thud that knoc
ked the breath out of me. I tried to scramble away from the horse’s thrashing hooves, but one of them caught my ankle.

  Grey struggled to bring Hallin under control, his shouts echoing through the woods, while the bird kept up its raucous noise. He must have decided that the horse wouldn’t settle until the bird was gone, because the next thing I knew, he was roundly cursing the raven. It landed on a branch and gave a funny, surprised-sounding chirp, staring at Grey and twitching its head from side to side. Despite the pain in my ankle, I almost laughed.

  He shot the bird a very nasty look, then led Hallin in the opposite direction to try to calm him down. As if satisfied with the havoc it had wreaked, the raven let out a last loud cry and flew away.

  Then Grey let out another stream of cursing. I looked over to find that Hallin was limping, favoring one of his front legs. Grey examined it and shook his head at what he found. He led the horse back to where I still sat in the snow.

  “We have a problem,” he said. “He has a strained fetlock. He can walk all right, but he won’t be able to carry you.”

  My heart sank. I had no idea how much farther we had to go, not knowing, after all, where exactly we were actually going. But it didn’t matter. If Hallin was hurt and I had to go afoot, then afoot I would go. I looked at Grey, gave him a small smile, and nodded. Then I stood up. Or tried to.

  As soon as I put pressure on my right foot, pain shot up my leg. I fell back heavily, tears springing to my eyes. Grey scowled in concern.

  “What now?” He knelt next to me and examined my ankle. The air on my exposed skin was cold, but Grey’s touch was gentle and warm as he poked and prodded and turned my foot this way and that. He watched my face for reaction, since I couldn’t tell him when it hurt. And nothing did hurt until he checked my calf. A searing pain jolted through my leg. I winced and would’ve cried out if I could have. He tugged up the hem of my trouser leg and frowned at what he saw.