Under a Winter Sky

by Jeffe Kennedy

  “Nothing is impossible,” she hissed, her voice steely. “I think we need to take another tack.” She rummaged in her sack and pulled out a packet, which she opened and sprinkled over the fire.

  “Lie down, close your eyes,” she commanded. He did as she asked, lying across several cushions with his head at her knees.

  She placed her hands on either side of his head, and his eyes popped open. She smiled down at him. “Keep them closed.”

  He did and she began massaging his temples. Whatever she’d sprinkled on the fire smelled sweet and a little cloying. He was going to fall asleep at this rate. Her fingers gently kneading his head was more delightful than he could have imagined. He focused on that sensation until everything else dropped away.

  Ember’s eyes opened and he was standing, not in his old nanny’s dwelling, but in a dark place. Apprehension sparked, but then Mooriah flickered in place next to him.

  “We are in the heart of the Mother,” she said in a calming tone. “This is where I go to practice with my power. Your form here is not real, or I should say it exists only in your mind. Your body is still in front of the fire.”

  She held out the tiny bone shard. “Try again.”

  He swallowed and took it, surprised at how substantial she looked and felt when their fingers brushed again. He placed the pin against his palm again.

  This time when his mind told his body to pierce his skin, it did so. A single drop of red welled against his skin.

  His gaze shot to her, wide-eyed. Her smile broadened, illuminating the dark, ethereal cave in which they stood.

  “That’s the first step. You can get over this, Ember. I know you can.”

  He nodded slowly, trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened. He stared at the dot of red on his palm and wanted to cry with joy.

  ~ 8 ~

  Effusion of Hardiness: Reinforces sturdy good health and robustness of body.

  Two parts wolf fungus, one part jade bite, and three drams of salamander ink. Excessive yawning and a loss of taste may occur in some cases. The recipient should avoid ingesting fish or sea fowl for at least three moons.

  —WISDOM OF THE FOLK

  Mooriah stood with her hands pressed against the red surface of the cornerstone caldera, searching for something—anything—within.

  “What are you hoping to find?”

  She startled at Fenix’s voice behind her and spun around. “I’m not sure.” She shook her head. “It’s foolish.”

  He tilted his head, those eyes peering deep inside her. “I doubt that.”

  “Both of my parents were powerful Earthsingers—but my Song calls to death instead. Shouldn’t there be something of them inside of me?”

  He frowned then looked up at the obelisk’s great height. “Unfortunately, that’s not how it works. Would you rather be an Earthsinger?”

  “I don’t know. Sometimes. It would be easier for Father. I wouldn’t have been sent away.” The pain of the admission settled across her fiercely. She knew that Yllis had done it to save her life, but still…

  “Do you enjoy living inside those dreary caverns?”

  “They’re not dreary,” she protested. “They’re beautiful. I wish you could see them as I do. Each wall is embedded with generations of history going back to the very beginning of the mountain. You can walk for days and learn the tales of people who lived long before you. And the firerocks illuminate the patterns hidden in the stone, they tell their own story in images—you just have to know what you’re looking for. The Mother is truly wondrous.”

  She smiled, thinking of her home. “There are gardens with plants that only bloom under the firerocks, with flowers more colorful and impressive than anything above ground, I’m sure of it. And the lakes—all around the city there are lakes, places where you can go and meditate and be at peace.”

  “And swim?” His brows were raised, and his mouth quirked in a smile. That was what he had focused on?

  “Well, yes, you can swim.” She frowned.

  “That, at least, sounds like fun.” A grin ate up his face, and she sighed.

  Fenix seemed good natured, but he also lacked the ability to take anything seriously. His constant smirk was beginning to grate her nerves. “We had better get back to work. I’d like to finish today, if possible.”

  He sucked in a deep breath of frigid air. “Helping your father is a great deal easier than what I was sent here to do. Observe the people, make reports, take a census. Boring.” He rolled his eyes.

  She stiffened. “But that’s the assignment you signed up for, isn’t it? Don’t your people need the reports?”

  He shrugged. “Need is a strong word. They desire them, but they’ll just send someone else along if I don’t complete the job. I only took this on because I wanted to travel. And I had old debts to repay. But what they don’t know won’t hurt them. I’d much rather be here with you.” His smile was bright and charming, enhanced perhaps by his natural glow which he no longer bothered to dampen.

  Looking at him was almost painful—he was beautiful, to be sure, and so different to anyone else she’d ever met. But his carefree nature and indifference to duty rubbed her the wrong way.

  “Well, the faster you’re done here, the faster you can leave and continue your travels,” she said.

  “Oh, but I like it here.”

  “On the top of this cold mountain?” She raised her brows.

  “There are very pleasing things to look at.”

  Mooriah turned away, flushing at the compliment he obviously intended. “Well, I need to finish. So I can go back.”

  She had brought a large pot with her today and used it to combine the ingredients for the spell she was working on. Blood magic could, of course, be done without all the additional elements stored in her satchel, blood and intent were all that were needed, but generations of shamans had come up with formulas to focus and amplify the spells. The ingredients, properly used, brought a level of refinement to the magic, which it did not have on its own.

  She’d added star root for longevity, featherblade to measure a person’s heart, salt bronze as a calming agent for those who would trigger the spell. She was finally doing something she’d been longing to for her whole apprenticeship—creating a new spell. Putting her years of studying to the test was oddly gratifying, and it somewhat made up for the fact that her father was just as distant as ever.

  An hour ago, he’d pronounced his Song drained and had gone off to his campsite nearby to rest. An Earthsinger’s power needed to regenerate after heavy usage. Mooriah wasn’t sure if hers did as well or if she’d just never used her Song for long enough to exhaust it.

  She’d tried telling Yllis about her spell, explaining how novel and original it was. But he’d just smiled absently and given the verbal equivalent of a pat on the head. She willed herself to not let it bother her. Later, when she returned to Night Snow, she would tell Murmur and he would be appropriately impressed.

  As her thoughts veered back to her working of blood magic, Fenix interrupted again. “Pretty lighting and calm lakes can’t be the only reason you stay locked away down there. They have all that and more out here.”

  She shook her head, focusing on her work—the mixture had to be right or it would not work as intended. “It’s my home. I like it there.”

  “Even though the people barely accept you. They consider you an Outsider, isn’t that right?”

  She pursed her lips. “For now. But once I’m initiated into the clan, things will change.”

  “Just like that?” She looked up to find his gaze intense. For once, the smirk gone from his lips. “Do you truly think you’ll ever be one of them? That they’ll ever really accept you for who you are?”

  That gave her pause. But the other unclanned who had become full members enjoyed all the rights and privileges that every other Night Snow member did. No cutting remarks or stares. That would be her too, she was sure of it.

  “I realize that you were eager to leav
e your home, Fenix, but not everyone is like you.”

  He shrugged. “Home is tedious. You should come with me and explore. See what this world has to offer.”

  She grit her teeth. “Have you forgotten why my father brought me there in the first place? My Song is dangerous to those not warded against it.”

  He scoffed and her temper rose at the sound. He wasn’t listening to her. Not only was he irresponsible, he was self-centered.

  He opened his mouth to reply and then froze, tilting his head. Then he jumped to his feet. “Your father is in trouble.”

  “What?” She leapt up as well.

  “Follow me.”

  They raced down the trail leading to the plateau where Yllis had set up his camp. He had not yet had enough time for his Song to restore itself. If there was some danger, he would not be able to defend himself.

  Fenix raced ahead of her and stopped. She reached his side and her heart froze. Yllis stood with his back to them as a mountain lion prowled just a dozen steps away. It was a male, and the biggest one she’d ever seen, easily twice her father’s weight. Cool green eyes never left Yllis’s still form.

  A long dagger lay on the ground just out of her father’s reach. The cat paused, sniffing, then bent its forelegs and haunches, settling into a pounce position, its gaze narrowing.

  Mooriah clenched her fist and reached for her Song. Her power arrowed around her father and settled on the cat—a strong and healthy specimen with little Nethersong to latch onto. Little, but enough. With pinpoint accuracy, she multiplied the Nether, increasing the death energy until it spread throughout the creature’s entire body.

  “Mooriah, no!” she vaguely heard her father say, but it was too late. She manipulated the energy of the animal until it seized and fell over, its large green pupils filling with black.

  When it was done, she released her Song and breathed heavily. Unlike when she practiced within the Mother, she now felt exhilarated by the use of her power. The exhaustion that had chased her for the past months as she studied for longer and worked harder, melted away. It was as if she was always supposed to use this ability.

  But her father and Fenix both rushed to kneel beside the mountain lion. Yllis turned back to her. “What did you do?”

  She blinked in confusion. “I saved your life. What do you mean?”

  He sighed deeply, looking down, his hand on the animal’s hide. “To take a life is a great burden, Mooriah. Even an animal’s life.”

  She crossed her arms. “Do you not hunt for food?”

  “Is that what you were doing?”

  Disbelief made her blink rapidly. “You would have rather I let it attack you? Let it maul you to death?”

  He shook his head and her frustration grew. Was she supposed to feel bad for protecting him? She took a step backward, pain filling her—not for what she did, but for how her father was reacting to her. His gaze was wary as he stared up at her.

  “You’ve never seen me use my power before,” she whispered. “Is that it?” Oh, he always asked how her control was progressing on his rare visits, but in all her years he’d never actually witnessed it. “Is it as awful as you imagined?”

  “You should not use it in such a way.”

  Anger spiked. “So it’s all right when I use it to help you, but any other usage is off limits?”

  “I don’t want you to become…” He searched for a word but couldn’t find it. “I don’t want you to live with regrets about what you’ve done.”

  She was speechless with rage and pain. Fenix’s eyes were closed, his hands on the cougar’s fur. They began to glow even brighter than anything she’d seen from him before. In a moment, the animal was breathing again, softly.

  “It’s asleep,” he said, brushing off his palms and sitting back on his haunches. “We should move it away from your camp.”

  “You can bring life back to the dead?” Her voice was low and a little fearful.

  He nodded gravely and stood. “The newly dead, at least.”

  “You are far more powerful than an Earthsinger,” Yllis said, appearing thoughtful.

  “My power overlaps in some ways but is different.” He looked at Mooriah, some question in his eyes that she didn’t have time to parse.

  A weight had settled on her chest and was crushing her air. Stealing her ability to breathe. She could not help the power that she had been born with. She could not help her skin or her skill or her parentage. And even her father could not accept what she was.

  She spun around and started back up the path.

  “Mooriah!” Fenix called.

  “Let her go,” Yllis said.

  Tears welled in her eyes, and she did not turn around.

  ~ 9 ~

  Appeal of Discovery: To find a path to one whom you pursue.

  One drop each of hairy viper venom and nightworm pigment. The mixture is quite potent and may bubble or smoke. Avoid touching it as a blister may occur. Follow the tingling of your feet until you find the one you seek.

  —WISDOM OF THE FOLK

  Ember had watched Mooriah stir the food in her bowl for five full minutes before he couldn’t take it any longer. In their short acquaintance, he’d never seen her avoid a meal. “What is wrong?”

  They had been practicing in the trance state for an hour before breaking for a late dinner. He had successfully pierced his skin with the pin twice more and was working with larger and larger pins, hoping he’d get to a knife soon. It was progress, though it was slow, and they still hadn’t tried it outside of the Mother’s meditative illusion. However, Mooriah had seemed out of sorts ever since she’d arrived. Something was obviously bothering her.

  She took a deep breath and set her bowl down. “Are you afraid of my power? The Nethersong?”

  He frowned. “No? Why?”

  “Because I command death. Because I can kill with a thought. It’s inside me—this thing that responds to what most people fear.” Her hands were clenched tight in her lap, and he wanted to soothe them.

  “Death is a part of life, the largest part in fact.” He gave into the urge and reached for her hand, uncurling her fist to intertwine their fingers. She didn’t pull away, so he continued.

  “I remember crying when my mother was chosen in the lottery to be the Sacred Sacrifice. She was the last one, after her, my father insisted the shamans move away from the practice. Some of the elders protested abandoning tradition, but he truly loved her—in his way. Something inside him broke when she died. But she was proud to have been chosen. Proud to serve her community by giving her blood to the Mother. Her life reinforced our protections, and her sacrifice will go on until the Folk are no more. So, as much as I miss her and wish she was here, all life ends in death. I would have lost her eventually. We should not fear it, we must accept it for it comes regardless.”

  He squeezed their joined hands. “There is little point in fearing you because you wield death. You also are a powerful blood mage. I fear that more than anything.” He smiled and her expression lightened.

  “My father fears me,” she whispered. She relayed what had happened on the mountain top with the cougar, her voice dripping with sorrow. Tears filled her eyes and overflowed.

  “I don’t know why I’m so upset about this. It’s not as if he even knows me at all. He says he loves me, says he only wants to protect me, but he doesn’t understand how his judgment is painful.” She scrubbed at her cheeks.

  “By not accepting your power, he’s not accepting you.”

  Her eyes widened. “Exactly. And even Fenix had the nerve to look at me like I was made of ants after I killed that cougar.”

  “Fenix was there?” Ember stiffened at the mention of the sorcerer’s name.

  Mooriah sniffed. “Yes, he brought the cat back to life. His power is…” She shook her head.

  Ember was glad that the man was banished. That sort of magic went against the will of the Mother and the Breath Father. “He should not have interfered with life and death matters.”r />
  “I did.”

  “You did not interfere. You defended your father. Should we not protect ourselves and those we love? If anyone, man or beast, came for someone I cared about, then their death would be assured. Bringing them back is unnatural magic. You should be careful of that sorcerer.”

  He wanted to tell her to be careful of Fenix for other reasons—the glint in the man’s eye had shown that he admired Mooriah—but he stayed quiet on that.

  She sighed deeply. “If I become clan, do you think I will ever be truly accepted? Will I ever be one of you and have my own place here—my own family?”

  “When you become clan, you will need to fend off the men with one of Glister’s itching spells.”

  She huffed a laugh. “Doubtful.”

  “Would you like me to do it for you?”

  “Scare away all my imaginary suitors? No thank you. If I have even one, then it will be a miracle.”

  Her voice was light, but he froze. “Why do you say that?”

  “I am not such a prize as all that. So far, the only man to show interest in me is an Outsider, an arrogant thoughtless one at that.”

  She tried to pull her hand from his, but he tightened his hold. “Are you certain he’s the only one?” His voice had lowered without him realizing.

  She stared at their hands before meeting his gaze. Their faces were very close together all of a sudden. He wasn’t sure how that had happened. She swallowed, bringing his attention to her elegant neck.

  Her breath brushed across his lips; she was staring at them, blinking slowly. He held his breath. Then she shook herself and sat back. Disappointment was a mallet against his chest.

  “You’re going to be the chief, the Mother willing. You cannot…” She scooted farther away, forcing their hands apart. “You are not even supposed to speak to the unclanned.”

  “You are going to be our shaman,” he said, longing for the feel of her skin on his once more. But she was focusing on her bowl again, still not eating, but not looking him in the eye either.