Furious gusts suddenly flapped the pages of the Book of Fables beside him, slamming it shut and startling him. Losing his balance, he flailed, giving the wind free rein to grab his blanket and carry it away. The book toppled into a deep drift, blasting him in the face with a plume of snow.
“She must’ve wandered off,” Gerdie muttered. She stood up, studying the snow for footprints leading away from them. As far as she could see there weren’t any, other than Sithias’s haphazard tracks. “Hmm, it looks like she never made it here.”
“Th-that’sss what I’ve been sssaying!” Sithias squawked. Fully iced with snow, he moved close to her, stooping low to sob on her shoulder and snuggle close, gleaning whatever heat he could from her. “She m-mussst be trapped in sssome sssort of magical limbo. Now we’ll be ssstuck in thisss dreadful icebox forever––if we don’t f-freeze to death firssst.”
Finn sat up slowly, groggy but concerned. “Fate’s not here?”
“Nooo, she’sss not!” Sithias cried.
“So long as she’s alive, she has to be part of this fable ‘cuz she read us into it,” Gerdie explained. “I think this is like the time my sister ended up in the castle of Asgar, and me and Oma found ourselves plunked in some village a day’s walk away. We were pretty sure we weren’t gettin’ out of that fable since my sister was the reader the same as Fate is in this go around. We’re all part of the same fable, you can be certain of that. Sooner or later we’ll meet up with her.”
“We’ll all die if it’sss later than s-sooner,” Sithias whined.
Finn was now fully awake. “Are you saying you were trapped inside the Book of Fables like Fate and me?”
She nodded, hugging her arms and jumping up and down to get her blood circulating. “Yup, I traveled through all the f-fables up ‘til my sister left me behind in Old Mother Grim.”
Sithias stood straight, frowning in alarm. “Your sssister sssoundsss like a d-dreadful perssson. How did you manage to sssurvive?”
“How about I tell ya later? My lips are goin’ numb.”
Finn stood up and immediately doubled over, grabbing his head. “Uh…I’ve got a raging pounder.”
Gerdie stepped up close, holding his arm to steady him. “You took a real hard knock on the noggin.” While he was still stooped over, she peeled back the bandage to check his head wound. “Huh, it’s healin’ over fast, much faster than––”
He ripped off the blood-stained bandage, watching the spot of red whip in the wind and vanish in the blustering snow. As his eyes shifted to her, a scowl formed on his face. “I remember getting hit by lightning, and being glad for it. Why didn’t you stop Fate from coming? I should be plucking a harp right about now or, more likely, sniffing the reek of brimstone. She could’ve been killed. Whereas I should’ve been!”
She let go of his arm, his harsh tone driving the chill deep to her core. “Didn’t know you had a death wish. And there was no stoppin’ that girl. She’s as stubborn as a mule, and she can f-fly.”
Stepping off the blanket he’d been wrapped in, he faced the glacial tempest. “Where is she?” He glared at her, his irises expanding, becoming black pools, the way they had when he’d talked about Old Mother Grim in the oratory. A telltale sign of hatred now marked for her. “Did you have something to do with her disappearance?” he said, his voice a low growl.
Frightened, Gerdie glanced over at Sithias for help. He was chasing after Finn’s blanket flying away on the wind.
There was nothing she could do but face his accusing stare. “N-no, I didn’t even know you had the book until Fate showed me. Course you were knocked out silly, so you wouldn’t know that. B-besides, there can only be one reader at a time. None of us are goin’ anywhere without Fate. Haven’t you f-figured that out by now?”
He didn’t look convinced. “Well, if she’s the reader, how come the book came with us instead of her?”
“That’s a g-good question,” she admitted, trying hard not to shake, lest it be mistaken for fear. “When m-my sister was the reader, it went with her to Asgar. I don’t know why it came with us. Maybe it’s c-confused by me bein’ here.”
Sithias returned with the blanket stretched tight around his thin frame. “I’m dying,” he announced. He threw Finn a mournful glance. “Have you f-forgotten I’m a cold-blooded sssnake under thisss human guissse? Not to mention, I’ve been seriousssly wounded!”
Finn’s stormy eyes slid impatiently to him. “You won’t freeze any faster than either of us will when you’re in human form. But if you’re really that cold, make yourself into an animal that lives in this kind of weather.”
Sithias’s face lit up. “Oh, well that’sss not a bad idea at all.”
“H-how about a r-reindeer? Then you c-can c-carry us,” Gerdie suggested, her teeth knocking together so hard she had to be careful not to bite her tongue.
Sithias looked appalled. “I will not be your beassst of burden.”
•
“Well if thisss isssn’t humiliating, I don’t know what isss,” Sithias grumbled as he trudged through the deep snow, despite how easily his long reindeer legs traversed the drifts. He had a slight limp in his front leg where he’d been wounded near his front quarter––formerly his shoulder––but his newfound strength compensated for it. Nonetheless, complaining was required to maintain a necessary level of dignity. Not to mention, he was feeling rather foolish for not having been the one to come up with the idea of shifting into a hardy fur-covered animal. He tossed his enormous antlers in disdain for good measure. “I’d better not pop a ssstitch!”
Gerdie’s legs trembled against his sides as she leaned forward, yelling to be heard over the increasing roar of the wind. “You’re warmer aren’t you?”
“One can’t help but work up a bit of heat when you’re a lowly pack mule.”
She pressed herself flat to his back, shudders running through her small body as she patted the side of his muscular neck. “Th-thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, flicking his furry ears irritably. Not because he had to carry her––he was happy to do it––but because there was nothing he could do to stop her shivering. She was a tough little thing. He admired her refusal to grouse about freezing to death.
Finn landed next to them, appearing in a cloud of whirling snow, as if out of the ether. His hair and brows were crusted with ice, yet he seemed only slightly chilled by the frigid winds slicing into them from every direction. “There’s nothing here but an endless frozen wasteland––no sign of life at all,” he said. “I think you’re right. We’re probably in…what did you call it?”
“Duenthorn,” Sithias said. “Which meansss we follow the sssun asss it setsss in the Wessst, sssince the fable indicated Duenthorn wasss eassst of Beldereth.”
“Maybe I should fly ahead to be sure we’re heading in the right direction,” Finn suggested.
“I’d say yesss, but asss much asss thisss painsss me to sssay, I think you’d bessst sssit on my back with Gerdie and keep her warm.” he shifted his weight and huffed.“She’sss in danger of freezing, or losing sssome toesss and fingersss at the very leassst.”
Hearing this, she poked her head up out of the blanket again. “Sithias, I d-didn’t know you cared.”
He stamped his hoof and rolled his eyes. “Hmf, I don’t. Your conssstant shaking isss extremely annoying.”
They continued on their journey, leaving the Book of Fables behind in the snow bank where it was swiftly covered in snow. Finn had marked its location with a stack of large stones, which would no doubt be buried just as thoroughly, but it was the best he could do given the circumstances.
He sat on Sithias’s back begrudgingly, his coat open and Gerdie huddled against his torso. He would’ve preferred bundling her in the arctic wear Tove had made him so he could fly ahead and scout, but the clothing had been left behind in the last fable. No doubt lost for good. Not that it mattered anymore. There wasn’t much that mattered anymore.
He glared at the angu
lar rocks slicing through the snowdrifts like daggers. He felt at home here, with the fierce, bone-chilling winds shaping the land into an unforgiving, hostile place, a perfect mirror to the poison obliterating his soft edges, sharpening him into a deadly barb. Even now, he wanted to lash out at the small girl sitting in front of him. She was to blame for letting Fate come after him. If Gerdie had deterred Fate as planned, he would’ve died without her having to see the ugliness he’d been hiding.
Whenever he thought about the moment he’d lost control and forced himself on her, his chest burned as painfully as if he’d guzzled bleach. If only Fate hadn’t been there. If only Gerdie hadn’t failed. He could snap the girl’s neck for that. It would be easy…a simple twist of the head. Done swiftly, she’d never feel the moment of death.
Horrorstruck by the unbidden thought, he shoved the murderous urge back down into the shadow place from whence it came. But there was too much anger and resentment brewing there. The compulsion to kill could not be contained, erupting once more, shuddering through him even as he fought to hold it back.
Gerdie turned her head to one side. “You okay?”
He swallowed. “Aye.”
“That bump on your head may be healin’ good and fast, but it’ll make you feel out of sorts all the same.”
“I’m fine.”
Gerdie twisted round, looking up at him. Fear filled her eyes. Without a word, she turned, looking straight ahead, stiff and hugging her knees close.
Shame gnawed a hole in his stomach when he saw her reaction, but that seductive voice of reason he’d been hearing of late whispered in his mind: When will you stop torturing yourself with useless guilt? Don’t you know that such sniveling is beneath you? The man you keep longing to be never existed. You’re chasing after a ghost of your former self, clinging to an illusion…blind to your true nature.
His scowl deepened as the wind battered his face with ice. If his true nature was what had driven him to brutalize Fate, he wanted only to die. Agony ripped open his chest as her frightened face flashed in his mind, vivid and brilliant. He shrank from the memory, unable to stop seeing his hand tearing at her clothes and hearing the malicious words he’d said. Aye, he’d been angry with her, but how was it possible his resentment could overpower the love he felt for her? All he’d ever wanted was to be close to her. But not like that…never like that.
Suppose you could hold her in your arms again. Would she look on you with anything but fear and disgust? The whisper became a growl. How can she love you when all she wanted was to remind you of the soulless puppet she created? She’s not worthy of your remorse. You’re nothing more than a plaything to her…and for that, she deserved to be punished.
Finn’s insides balled up into agonizing knots. The voice made sense in a twisted sort of way. What if it was true? What if all he’d ever been to her was an amusing distraction?
We promise, if you see her for what she truly is you’ll no longer thirst for her touch or the sound of her voice. Turn to your true nature. The justice you mete out on the damned will sate you more than she ever could. You’ll be filled with a greater glory. The power inside you awaits. Give into it, and you alone, can smite like the divine hand of God, unstained by the blood you spill.
As Finn surrendered, the unbearable tightness in his gut loosened. Honeyed darkness poured through him thick and sticky, coating over his agony, filling the hole in his heart with an all-consuming passion for retribution.
He smiled grimly at the dark, knife-shaped rocks barely visible through the blinding snow, regarding them with admiration, so imposing in their strength and oddly beautiful. This was where he belonged, the perfect setting for a righteous crusade that would go down on the pages of––
Chaos broke loose around them, shattering Finn’s thoughts. Dark figures burst up from the snow with primitive cries and guttural growls. Before he could react, a brutal blow from the side knocked him into a drift. His ribs felt crushed, but a delicious rush of fury overrode the pain. He sprang to his feet, ready to tear limbs from his attackers.
A large form exploded from a nearby drift, blocking out half the wind-blurred landscape. Finn swung his fist but before it struck flesh, a thick club came down hard and heavy upon his crown. A bone-crunching sound filled his skull and sparks of light blasted before his eyes.
Then, sweet oblivion.
•
Finn woke to a throbbing brain. The jostling made it worse as he bumped against the back of the man carrying him. The blood dripping from his head splattered over stone. He tried pushing his muddled senses outward to get a feel for where he was, but his aching body chained him down.
He glanced over at Gerdie. Her hands were tied and she was being shoved alongside him, while some rough characters heaved on the ropes binding Sithias, who bucked and strained against them.
They were in an underground cavern lit by fire pits and torches anchored on greasy rock walls. A rank smell came off a row of stretched animal skins left to dry, while some were being scraped clean by tangle-haired women who turned their worn faces toward them. A group of soiled, grubby children squatted on the floor, playing with animal entrails. They stopped what they were doing and looked at Gerdie like it was Christmas morning.
Men dressed in crude furs and decorated with fang necklaces and bone breastplates stood around a pit, arguing and shoving each other while watching two snarling badgers tangled in a vicious fight. A woman screamed and struggled as several men dragged her into a dark corner, but as the newcomers moved in their midst, every one of them abandoned their unsavory activities.
The stench of sweat, smoke and putrid meat wafted off the motley, weather-beaten tribe and hung thick in the air. Every eye glittered with distrust or greed and most definitely hunger, especially when their gaze landed on the large white reindeer.
The man carrying Finn dropped him on the ground. “Get up, scum!” he snarled, driving his foot into Finn’s bruised ribs when he didn’t move immediately.
Biting back the pain, he staggered to his feet, facing him with a defiant grin. “Take it easy, sunshine. I was hoping you’d help me up, since you were so good as to carry me all this way.”
The man stood a foot taller and was built like a bull. His thick features furrowed into a glower. “Shut yer gob!” he bellowed, punctuating the order with a fist to Finn’s gut.
Finn caved at the waist, feeling the pain burn deep. He imagined his fist going through the man’s face and out the back of his skull but decided he’d wait for his energy to return more fully, in case the whole tribe descended on him.
Fear flickered over the man’s face when Finn lifted his head and smiled wickedly. His captor shoved him into the throng, navigating them through the unmoving, foul-smelling crowd. Some of them rammed shoulders with him and others pushed Gerdie ‘til she stumbled and nearly fell. Guffaws and derisive hoots followed them as they made their way to the back of the cavern, where a large bearded man lay on a pile of furs. This appeared to be the chieftain. He was the only one wearing a regal lion’s mane headdress embellished with an impressive set of bullhorns.
When Gerdie and Finn were several yards from the leader, their captors yanked on their bound arms and kicked in the backs of their knees, forcing them to kneel.
While surveying his two prisoners, the chieftain took a piece of raw meat from one of the young women lounging at his side and swallowed it whole. The girls were less grimy than many of the other women and still had the bloom of youth upon them. In fact, the chieftain himself was not nearly as unkempt as the rest of his grubby band. Apparently his high-ranking position offered the rewards of a regular bath and a comparatively clean harem.
The chieftain’s gaze narrowed on Finn. A restless intelligence moved behind his probing gaze. “And who are you who dares to trespass into Bane territory?” he demanded, his voice booming throughout the cavern.
When Finn remained silent, his captor punched him in the kidney. The pain stabbed deep, making him stumble. Without a wo
rd, he gathered his composure, lingering on the notion that his torturer would soon have his head torn from his neck––a hole in the head was too neat.
“My name’s Finn McKeen,” he said at last.
The chieftain stared at him blank-faced. “Never heard of you. What were you outcast to Duenthorn for?”
“Murder,” Finn said. Since he’d been unconscious through the reading of the fable, he only knew what Sithias had told him, but guessed what the Bane needed to hear.
Gerdie’s mouth fell open as she turned to Finn.
“How many?” the chieftain asked, his gaze skimming over his rune-marked temple with veiled interest.
“Five.”
First there was silence. Then the chieftain laughed, a deep belly laugh that had the whole band joining in with cackles and heckling screeches.
“Is that all? You mean to tell me you’ve been exiled to the most heinous piece of earth this world has to offer for just five murders? Usually you’ve got to do more damage than that, eh?” he boasted to his tribe, laughing again.
“Eighty would almost do it!” a heckler yelled from the back, as others shouted out even more ridiculous numbers.
The chieftain looked at Finn. “Well if you didn’t want to be thrown back to the snow, you should’ve thought to do better than that, young sapling. I suppose that reindeer will spare you a night by the fire. That’s if you survive to see sunrise.” His half-veiled eyes slid to Gerdie. “The nipper’s on the scrawny side, but we’ll fatten her up so she grows into an able-bodied wench.”
Gerdie glared, sidling closer to Finn. “Do somethin’,” she murmured, turning a worried glance back at Sithias, who’d been hemmed in by a group of menacing children with sharp sticks.
“I say we gut ‘im now,” someone yelled.
Grunts and jeers swelled up from the motley horde, while those standing closest to Finn chanted, “Gut ‘im! Gut ‘im! Gut ‘im!”
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