by Rin Chupeco
“You caused the frost?”
“Remember the story I told you about Talia, the Briar Rose? I couldn’t stop the Snow Queen back then, so I altered it instead using Mazoe and Gliten here, ‘time’ and ‘enchantment.’ Wherever the frost reached, my people slept, and time slowed.” He smiled grimly. “I guess I did it well enough that not even the Snow Queen could dispel it, or reenter my kingdom.”
“Using the Nine Maidens?” Queen Melusine, King Steadfast, Helga of the Marshes. They eventually paid for control of the Nine Maidens with their lives. “Alex, what have you done?”
“I didn’t have a choice, Tala. I had to accept her offer.”
“Her?”
“I told you. The Baba Yaga.” Alex raised his arms, then brought them down with grim finality.
The monument reacted. Streams of light shot out from the circle and melted everything it touched.
Ice slid down from the walls in large, heavy chunks, and Tala realized the castle was thawing rapidly.
Water gushed out of the ice maiden’s eyes, her ears, her open mouth. “My queen commanded the frost,” she croaked, fighting to stand, “yet we could not penetrate this room. It was you who barred our path.”
Alex grinned. His hands danced rapidly across the air before him, like he was conducting an orchestra, and the monuments’ humming increased. One began to glow with an unearthly light, the resulting energies from it drifting into the center of the circle and coalescing into sharp shifting ice above their heads like a halo of thorns. “If you thought I was an asshole at five years old, think of what a fantastic bitch I am now,” he said.
The ice maiden leaped for him, but Alex’s hands swept down with swift finality. The ice contracted briefly, then expanded.
Great shards lanced across the room, several catching the ice maiden in the midsection. Many more lodged themselves into the surrounding walls, onto the stone floor. What Alex had gained in power, he made up for with a lack of accuracy.
The monuments glittered and faded out of view for several seconds. And then they were back, as solid as ever, but Maidenkeep shuddered from the shock wave, and ripples of the spell continued spiraling outward, faster than light, to encompass the whole kingdom.
Forests melted, icicles dropping off tree branches to reveal small leaves and buds hiding underneath. Ice melted off houses and roads and vehicles, and in one village, the residents cheered as the dark clouds above them dispersed to give way to a lighter sky filled with pinks and yellows. At a nearby castle, soldiers lost their composure and whooped, raising swords as the shades they were engaged in battle with cowered, retreating as the winter did.
In another village, snow thawed on makeshift graves, and warmth replaced the chill. In its wake, a young girl lying with her head above the ground took a deep breath and opened her eyes—the first of many others.
But in Maidenkeep, Tala stumbled back, reaching behind her to brace herself. Instead of her fingers finding cold, solid stone, she found herself leaning back into emptiness where a wall should have been.
She turned, but it was too late. She was tipping right into the mirror’s polished gleaming surface, into her own horrified reflection, and then she was falling.
33
In Which a Sword Makes a Choice
The earthquake came at a bad time, and nearly knocked Ken off his feet. “What the hell was that?” he heard Nya yell from somewhere nearby, and he started in her direction.
It was the curtains that told him what was up. They were defrosting at an alarming rate, dripping puddles on the floor. All around them, the castle showed signs of doing the same; decade-long ice literally melting off the walls.
“Something’s melting the frost!” Zoe neatly bisected a shade with her whip. “It might be affecting the original barrier!”
That might be so, but the ice maiden was doing her damnedest to prevent that. Ken swung his blade, sending the rest of the shades flying.
“Hey, you!” he hollered, leaping forward to aim for her neck. The ice maiden turned, and the sudden flurry of cold wind nearly knocked him off his feet. More stalagmites nearly a dozen feet tall pushed out from the ground, blocking his path toward her.
The woman laughed victoriously, but was abruptly cut off when Zoe raised the Ogmios, face pale from the strain. Lightning flew, but the ice maiden raised her own hands and a shield constructed from ice formed before her, deflecting the strike. Zoe shook her head and flexed her whip again. Icicles shot out from the ground toward her, but Cole was quick to put himself firmly in their path, Gravekeeper decimating those and any other shades that came close. Some of the shadows he cut with his scythe seemed to rebel, turning to attack other nearby brethren.
The mirror shimmered once, twice, and then the room was suddenly filled with more people.
“Inoue!” The roar was loud despite the din, and Ken’s mouth dropped open as Lola Urduja strode in, clad in a wrapped muslin skirt and a collarless blouse wide across the shoulders, looking like an actress in a period piece play instead of one entering the battlefield. One sweep of her abaniko sent several shadows’ heads rolling. Tito Boy followed at her heels, his cane stabbing through another dark form. Other Katipuneros leaped out of the mirror, all brandishing more fans and, in General Luna’s case, another shiv.
“They’ve breached the barrier,” Ken said, his hopes rising. “Hey, Zo! They made it past the frost!”
And then Lumina Makiling emerged, her features grim, hands already weaving counterspells. Shades shrieked when she drew too close, and they melted like acid through paper as her agimat did its deadly work. The others formed up behind her, fans sweeping and cutting more creatures in half.
West had literally begun mowing down anything else unfortunate enough to be in his way; trunk and massive feet dancing the two-step over flattened shadows, clearly having the time of his life. With Loki behind him, Ken fought his way through the rest. Distracted by Zoe, the ice maiden barely had time to evade Ken’s attack, and one more assault from the girl was enough to shatter her ice shield.
The woman let out an inhuman shriek, and a wave of hail bowled them all over, sending Ken and Loki skidding to the floor. The Juuchi Yosamu clattered to the ground.
Laughing now, the ice maiden bent down. “So much for Avalon’s best and brightest,” she mocked, hefting the blade expertly in one hand. The ice gathered around her once more, manifesting sharp spikes for blades. “Ironic, for the Bandersnatches to be snuffed out before their kingdom can see the light of—”
She paused, staring in horror at the Juuchi. “No!” she shrieked, then tried to dislodge the sword but couldn’t. Her eyes locked on to the shining silver blade’s surface, starting at something only she could see. “No!” she screamed again and swung madly about, trying to shake it loose from her hand but only beheading shades in her line of fire. “I will not! You won’t take me!”
Ken thrust forward with the Yawarakai-Te. The blade passed through the ice maiden’s chest. The woman shrieked again and brought the Juuchi down onto Ken.
“No!” Nya cried out.
The blade glanced harmlessly off Ken’s head.
There was a horrifying, crunching sound. As quick as lightning, without anyone noticing, Loki had snuck up behind the ice maiden and planted their staff right through her head. The edge of the Ruyi Jingu Bang protruded out from between her eyes. The ice maiden’s hands dropped down to clutch at the weapon, and Ken swung one last time. Yawarakai-Te shone brightly, so bright it resembled glittering diamonds.
The ice maiden exploded, as if she were made of water.
By the time the rest of the group had picked themselves up, unharmed albeit wetter, nothing remained of the ice maiden, not even a snowflake.
“She talks too much,” Ken mumbled weakly and spat out a mouthful of water.
“Not that I’m not thrilled,” Loki said carefully. “But how did th
e Juuchi—”
“We’re in an iced-up throne room and I’m bloody frickin’ cold and there’s maybe two tons of freezing water down my pants, Loki, so I’m not going to look a gift horse, ice maiden, sword, whatever, in the mouth at this point, and after we get everything sorted out here, I’m gonna go home and maybe buy a lottery ticket.” But Ken was grinning broadly. West had shifted back into human, still dancing.
Another pair of arms encircled Ken. “Rapunzel!” He croaked, “I’m soaked through!”
“That,” Nya said, paying him little mind, “was the stupidest, most frighteningly brave thing I’d ever seen anyone do in my life! Don’t ever do that again!”
“We’ll still need to figure out a way to get these people out of the ice without hurting them,” Zoe said in her thoroughly businesslike way, though she was also smiling. She glanced around at the jubilant group and frowned.
“Has anyone seen Tala or Alex?”
* * *
Fresh earth reached out to break her fall, and Tala crashed awkwardly into a sunny glade, the sharp hiss of ice replaced quickly by the songs of birds and swaying leaves. Tala paid them no attention; she was on her feet in an instant, but the cool surface of the mirror was a new barrier. It locked her inside this strange garden, preventing her from leaving the way she came.
“Hey!” She knocked hard against her reflection, seeing nothing but her panicked self staring back, with the forest behind her. The room, Alex, and Maidenkeep—they were gone. She was alone.
Alone, with the sword.
It looked the same as it had in the mirror at Tintagel—a large, heavy-looking boulder, with an equally rusty and heavy-looking sword embedded deeply into its surface. Up close, she could see a small inscription scrawled along its edges.
Who so pulleth out this sword stands Chosen.
“The Nameless Sword,” something said softly. “It’s yours.”
Tala turned, but there was no one there.
“The Nameless Sword?” she asked the empty air. “This is the Name—”
Something caught her right in between the shoulders and sent her crashing into the stone. She sank to the ground, wheezing.
Beside her, the firebird lifted its head and moaned. Half of its body lay frozen, its legs shrouded in ice.
“Hello, young Makiling,” the Snow Queen said. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”
She wasn’t giving Tala much choice. The ice rapidly developing around her was also keeping her immobile. The frost wrapped speedily around her arms and hands, leaving only her head, neck, and chest visible. Her curse was useless, agimat bouncing harmlessly off her freshly rising prison. “Are you going to kill me?” she choked out.
“No. Would it surprise you to know that I grieve for the dead here?” The inexplicable sadness in the queen’s voice was unexpected. “I do not relish war, no matter what they tell you.” She tilted her head. “You look nothing like him.”
“I am everything like him,” Tala said.
“Is that why you hate hearing who he used to be?” She turned her attention back to the sword in the anvil. She took hold of its hilt and pulled, but the sword refused to budge.
“I expected as much.” Her hand dropped. “But I do not need to wield the blade to control it. I have been waiting for you for a long time, Tala. I, too, am gifted in prophecy. Only I am capable of seeing your doom. The firebird shall find the consort’s child, but she shall find it twice; the sword shall seek her out, yet she shall seek it twice. Twice she chooses and twice she falls and twice she rises. She is fire. And all shall burn. Imagine my joy, believing one of my own flesh and blood would be chosen. But prophecy speaks in riddles; its irony does not escape me.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Tala could see the mirror flicker again, ever so slightly. The firebird was still stretched out on the floor, motionless. But the ice had stopped encroaching upon its still figure, and she was at least grateful for that.
“Your prophecy is only the latest in a long line of dooms past. What the feline refuses shall the outlander take, to slay the queen of hearts at the cost of wonder. This is what it says of Alice Liddell, and through her efforts Wonderland died, however inadvertently. The dragon that wields the sword shall overcome shadow, until the day he is thrice betrayed by love and brotherhood and kinship. This is what it says of Arthur Pendragon. She is fire. And all shall burn. This is what it says of you.”
Tala heard a faint clink from somewhere behind her.
“I don’t believe you,” she said desperately, her teeth chattering. “B-besides, wh-what good will the sword be if yuh-you can’t use it?”
The Snow Queen laughed. It was a beautiful sound. “Such fire. So much like my beloved Kay. Arthur encourages that in his knights, though his temper was legendary even among them. Oh, yes,” she added, when Tala started, “didn’t he tell you? It was my childhood friend and Arthur’s foster brother, who rode off to Camelot to be knighted. I saved his life at the battle in Camlann that cost Arthur his. Your mother is irrelevant. You are still Kay’s daughter, destined to wield the sword. Help me unite the lands, and keep the secrets of our kingdoms’ magic away from the greedy outlanders.”
“B-by killing more people,” Tala said. “By turning more r-refugee kids into enemies of the s-state, like you did Ryker. By f-freezing more kingdoms who w-won’t bow down to yours. Why are you even doing this?”
“For love, of course,” the Snow Queen said, still smiling. “For Kay. What other reason should there be? Are you not willing to risk everything for love, my Tala? How much are you willing to risk for friends?” She turned back to the firebird. The ice resumed its climb up its neck, nearly encasing the firebird within it. But at the same time, Tala felt the ice entrapping her melt abruptly.
As soon as she was free, she lunged toward the queen, swinging her arnis sticks with all her might. “You leave it alone!”
The staff froze the instant it touched the woman and shattered with little warning, cutting into her own skin and making her cry out. The Snow Queen laughed.
A swift blow of wind dropped Tala onto the stone. Her fingers grazed the hilt of the embedded sword.
“That’s enough, Annelisse.”
A soft gasp from the queen. Tala’s father stepped out of the mirror, his own arnis sticks at the ready. “We’ve both outlived our lifetimes several times over. Must we continue with this madness?”
“Always!” The Snow Queen’s bright blue eyes blazed. “I sacrificed everything for you! And until you return to me, I will. Never. Stop!”
Her father attacked. The blows glanced off the queen, who moved with shocking speed, matching her father blow for blow. She sent out a wall of ice that he broke easily with his sticks, before spinning low to attack her legs. She stumbled, and he moved to strike at her head. But the Snow Queen stepped back and her hand rose, balled into a fist.
Her father grunted as sharp ice spikes shot out around him. One tore into his shin.
“Dad!” Tala cried out.
“You’re getting slower, Kay,” the Snow Queen said gently. “The years are telling on you, my love. You’re no longer the fresh-faced knight who snuck into my castle to bring me flowers and sing me ballads.”
“Some days I believe you should have left me to die on that field with Arthur,” he rasped. “A soul is too steep a price to pay for this.”
“What need do I have for one? I am powerful. I am immortal. We can still rule together, you and I. I can restore your lost youth. I can adopt your daughter, take her for my own. We mourned our lack of children. Perhaps this is our second chance.”
“We don’t deserve any more chances. We’ve done enough damage to forfeit us a hundred lifetimes.”
She drew back with a slow hiss. “Does that woman still cling to you? Surely you know that you love her only for her curse?”
“I love her because she makes
me feel like I deserve something better than I do.”
“No. You love me.”
“Aye, I did. Once. Please. Let us end this.”
The queen’s face hardened. “If you will not return to me, Kay, then you will not return to anyone else.” Her fingers moved, and another ice spike crystallized before her father, the deadly tip aimed at his chest.
Without thinking, Tala grasped the sword behind her firmly and wrenched it free. The blade made a soft singing sound as it slid out, one of inconceivable triumph.
Without hesitation, she shunted the sword at the Snow Queen’s face. Almost at the same time, the firebird glowed brightly, its body jerking up almost against its will as the ice around it shattered. Tendrils of flames encircled the sword. It registered in Tala’s mind that she felt no heat or searing pain—only that the blade felt right in her hand, that it was right to hold it in this manner, that it was good to do so.
And the Nameless Sword, unused for decades, burst into flames, engulfing the room in fire. She felt her agimat take hold, molding and shaping the weapon so that it too, was ingrained within.
There was a sharp sound like that of ice cracking. It reverberated throughout the whole castle.
Again and again Tala swung the sword, and again and again the sword bit into the Snow Queen’s body. The woman lifted a hand, trying in vain to defend herself, but Tala was unrelenting. She sliced through the queen’s arm, and where blood should have spurted, water poured out. The woman’s abilities had no power where her agimat was concerned, and every stroke of the sword was the culmination of the sacrifices of every Makiling that had come before her, all for this moment.
Ice thickened, lashing out at her from all sides, but the sword burned them away, and it was so easy. So easy to spot the stalactite bearing down on her from the ceiling, watching it miss.
So easy to catch the shade jumping out at her, the Nameless Sword sinking exactly three inches into its body so she could twist the blade, so the screams it made before disappearing into oblivion could be prolonged and drawn out. This was the reason she and her father had practiced arnis, though neither of them had known it then. She was made to wield this weapon.