Festival of Frost

by C. H. Williams

  Morning found them, quiet and still, and it was with reluctance that Juli pulled herself from Espen’s arms and the cloaks atop to face the day.

  The divergence.

  The first, she knew, of many.

  “I know the berries you’re searching for,” Espen explained, answering the questions over a breakfast of cold fowl. “They’re atop the mountain, as the vora has said. You’re close, though—a day’s hike, perhaps less, if you move quickly.”

  Juli’s hand drifted down, feeling the bulge across her stomach.

  And how long to get home again?

  The berries might be a day away.

  And the leaves of green…

  Maybe they were close.

  And maybe it would be many months more, fending off ice spiders and men of stone and great beasts that reared their heads in the forest before they found the foliage.

  She said a quiet goodbye to Espen beyond the now shattered shelter, Grayson happily dismantling his handiwork from the day before.

  “Find me,” she said quietly, squeezing Espen’s hand.

  “I could say the same to you,” Espen smiled back.

  “Then we will find each other,” Juli nodded, determined. “Be well, Espen. Be safe.”

  “And you, Juli. You will sing me back to human again soon, this, I feel. You will sing me back, and then together, we will sing your child into this world. This, I promise.”

  With that, he took a step back, and with a roar to shake the sky above, the man was gone, a massive white bear left in his wake.

  And still.

  Onward.

  Lilah burned the snow away, and the world with it, everything they knew disappearing beneath the plumes of white.

  Juli could see why the gods had sought refuge here.

  It was a view to put the heavens to shame.

  As Espen said, they found the yellow berries atop the mountain, a single, scraggly bush eking out survival from the stone.

  “Jules,” Lilah whispered, a smile cracking across her face as she brushed a kiss against her sister’s cheek, jolting into a run towards the sweet berries.

  Two down, one to go.

  But as Lilah reached for the berries, a shadow passed across them all, a winged screech making Lilah pause.

  Her hesitation was their failing.

  Without warning, a great falcon dove for the bush, snagging the last berried branch in its talons, ripping the roots from the stone as it took to the air once more.

  “No!” Juli’s scream echoed across the valleys, despair like she’d never known crashing down upon her.

  We will sing your child into this world.

  What world.

  One where she’d been bested by a stupid bird?

  That left her one choice.

  The falcon must be felled.

  She felt it, in her blood, the circle of it all. This noble creature had to fall, so that they might not.

  It knew what it had done, pulling the berries from her reach.

  To walk with life was to know death, and if she could sing something into the world, she could take it away, and so, the balance stayed.

  A bird for a baby.

  If she could bring life, then she sure as hell could take it, too.

  She yanked Grayson’s bow from where he’d drawn it, snapping for an arrow.

  There’d been no archery lessons for young little Juli.

  That hadn’t stopped her as she watched from the sidelines, all the same.

  Aim.

  Her eyes never left the bird, swooping through the air.

  Draw.

  Her muscles drew from instinct, following the creature.

  Loose.

  With an echoing cry, the bird fell, fluttering into the valley below, but not before releasing the branch, heavy with the yellow berries.

  It fell to the mountain top, scattering the fruit across the stone, and Lilah gave a shriek of triumph, almost in tears.

  Juli couldn’t stop herself from popping a berry into her mouth—just one.

  Sweet. Juicy.

  Perfect.

  The taste of triumph.

  Chapter 21

  GRAYSON

  Pebbles.

  Berries.

  That left just one.

  Just one.

  But between them and the leaves of green, trouble.

  From where the falcon had tumbled, dead into the valley, out crawled all sorts of mischief, seeking revenge.

  Ice spiders and stone men, frozen rockwolves with howling calls, beast and bird and shadows, too, looking to revel in the Festival of Frost.

  And so, it reached the fever-pitch.

  “What do we do,” Lilah breathed, watching the creatures clamoring up the mountainside.

  The gods had sought refuge, here, atop the mountain.

  They were not gods, though.

  Sitting on the top of the world wouldn’t do them much good.

  The shifting earth was futile against the onslaught. Stone men were one thing—falcons and shadows were another.

  “Whatever we do, we can’t let them escape,” Juli said quietly, watching in horror. “Whatever our world is, they are not of it. They do not belong. They are from a time where gods could sit from their mountaintops, and that era is past.” Her eyes flicked to Grayson. Then to Lilah.

  They knew what to do.

  Rending the earth up, up, up, Grayson filled the gaps below, creatures crying in dismay.

  And Lilah watched them burn.

  Her fire ran down the mountainsides, an avalanche, eating everything in its path. Flames licked the birds from the sky, chased the shadows back into their caverns, sent the herds of ice spiders curling, charcoaled and black, cast the beasts into nothing but ash.

  And when she had burned the foul creatures, she burned the stone.

  Burned the earth.

  Burned the sky.

  Burned it all.

  In the wake of her wrath, ash.

  And it was a curious thought.

  Wondering who they’d all been, before the ash.

  “Li,” Juli breathed, not daring to touch her sister.

  Lilah crumpled, though, unhearing.

  She had burned so hard, she’d burned herself out.

  Juli would mend her, though.

  Grayson was taken with something else.

  Across the ashen countryside, green.

  Leaves of green.

  He recognized it, from the books of his childhood, long ago. Wakened in the heart of fire. Blossomed in the cold of winter.

  First, the pebbles, white as snow, round and smooth and brought from below.

  Second, the berries, yellow as day, sweet and juicy and out of the way.

  Third, the leaves as green as spring, winter’s bounty to me you’ll bring.

  And when you gather your sacrifice three, only then, they’ll leave you be.

  Done.

  They had made it.

  Made it to the end of such a terrible, horrible, wonderful, irreplaceable nightmare.

  Chapter 22

  LILAH

  Lilah awoke huddled beneath her blanket, curled in a tight ball.

  Dawn was just now peering through the window, covered in a fractal pattern of white frost crawling across the glass.

  Her breath frosted the air as she pulled the blanket tighter, exhaling deeply.

  Just a dream.

  That’s all it’d been.

  The spot beside her was empty, still.

  Juli hadn’t come back last night to chatter on about her boys, the way she always did, bright and loquacious and singing a little bit of life into this gods-forsaken place with her sing-song voice.

  Lilah missed her, she realized in the cold morning.

  Missed her badly.

  The breakfast bell echoed through the settlement, beckoning her below.

  Lilah found the kitchen of the cabin crammed with faces she’d seen a thousand times and didn’t recognize, everyone hoping to grab a bowl of
hotgrain before the day began.

  And her thoughts moved back to the dream.

  How sweetly it had burned.

  How deeply she’d been loved, in that dream. Loved by herself. Loved by her brother and sister. Loved by the magic she wished she had been born with.

  But it was a dream.

  A dream, and nothing more.

  Even now, it was fleeting.

  Slipping away as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

  How badly, though, she wanted to remember.

  “Weather’s movin’ in,” someone grumbled.

  Not like in the dream, it wasn’t.

  “Winter’s on it’s way,” someone else added. “Frost like that?”

  A Festival, she thought resentfully.

  If it was going to be a proper festival, they’d need some decorations. A bit of holly, for one, hanging over the mantle.

  Pushing back the bench, Lilah was fighting a faint tug on her lips as she left the bowl of hotgrain abandoned, turning for the door.

  A bit of holly…and she knew just where to find it.

  Chapter 23

  JULI

  It was odd, Juli thought, looking at the frost that coated the settlement overnight.

  Bile was biting at the back of her tongue.

  Odder still, the dream she’d had.

  The Touch.

  She could recall little of what she’d dreamt, but she remembered that much.

  That her hands could heal, and she’d sung life back into the world.

  “If I wanted to run away,” Juli asked softly, glancing over to Fin, “what would you say?”

  A smile split across Fin’s face as he linked arms with her. “I’d say yes. A chance to take you and get out of this gods-forsaken hell-hole? No question.”

  And for a moment, she could see it.

  Fin, from the dream.

  Someone was making a fuss, across the settlement, though, and she lost the thought, eyes drifting to the chaos.

  “Who’s that,” Juli muttered, watching as a young man in a fur-lined cloak approached their father, his shock of white hair blazing in the sun.

  “Dunno,” Fin shrugged. “Some bloke. Aspen. Epsom? Anyway. What’s this nonsense about running away, Jules? You serious?”

  She didn’t take her eyes from the stranger as she shook her head. “No. No, it…it’s a sweet dream, I think, but this is my home, now.” She glanced back to Fin. “He looks straight out of one of Bess’s tales, doesn’t he?”

  Fin only scoffed, looking away. “I’ve been telling you, Jules. You’re listening to too many stories. You oughta leave that behind. Grow up a bit.”

  There was nothing left to do, then.

  “I think you’re right,” Juli mused, giving him a pat on the arm. “I’ll see you later, Fin. It’s been fun, but…” She jerked her head towards the man with the white hair, the man now watching her with a grin on his face. “I think I rather fancy seeing what sort of tale he’s crawled out of, if you take my meaning.”

  She left Fin standing in the road, slack jawed, a glare blossoming on his brow.

  The world was made for the living.

  Perhaps it’d just been a dream.

  That didn’t mean, though, she couldn’t sing a little bit of life back into this place, all the same.

  The clouds were gathering atop the mountains.

  There was a storm coming, to be sure.

  “Hi, there,” she grinned, meeting the man where he stood before the cabin. “You find the Basin okay?”

  A bright smile was on his lips as he gave a nod. “No problem. This place…” He glanced around, eyes sparkling. “It’s teeming with life.” Then, reaching into his cloak, he pulled out a little pouch, offering it out. “Name’s Espen, by the way. Berry?”

  Chapter 24

  GRAYSON

  Grayson awoke in the horse-blanket-and-hay bed, high in the loft of the barn, the cold dawn dancing through the roof slats.

  The night before came rushing back.

  What a dream he had dreamed.

  It felt like years, tumbling in the hay with Nik.

  Nik, who was leaving, Grayson remembered, wakefulness finding him fully, now.

  There was something he had to do.

  “Hey!” Grayson’s voice carried across the yard as he made for the blacksmith’s boy, stuffing full a saddlebag.

  Nik glanced up, a grin cracking across his tired face. “Long time, no—”

  “Shut up,” Grayson snapped, meeting him face to face. “First off, you can go straight to hell. You knew you were leaving when you dragged me up there, and I had a right to know about the lies, Nik. I had a right to know that you were just playing along for the sake of a good fuck. Second, you get the hell out of this place, and third, don’t you fucking dare look back, do you hear me? You go, and you keep on going until you think you’re about to drop, and then you go a little further, because I…” He trailed off, brow softening. “I loved you,” Grayson murmured. “I loved you, Nik. And I deserved better than you.”

  Turning, he let Nik’s protestations get lost in the wind, where they belonged.

  Dark clouds had started moving in, now, big, heavy drops of rain starting to pelt the dirt.

  Hell of a dream, that’d been.

  One where he’d hurt over that boy for so many gods-damned months, it was unreal.

  Grayson kicked the dirt. It’d felt so good, dreaming of moving mountains.

  Dreaming of healing that wound, eventually.

  In the blink of an eye, the rain had shifted, turning to hail, and Grayson swore, jogging for the barn.

  That was the Basin, though. Weather was liable to shift like that.

  “Hey! C’mere!”

  Grayson slowed to a walk beneath the overhang of a house where the voice had beckoned him from.

  “You’re gonna get hurt,” a young man frowned, gesturing Grayson to join him on the porch. “People don’t think it’s dangerous. It’s like rocks, though, pelted from the sky.”

  “Yeah,” Grayson murmured, eyes drifting to the hunks of ice accumulating in the dirt.

  Something familiar…

  As quickly as it’d come, though, it began to trail off, the din subsiding to a quiet roar, until it faded off completely.

  And he remembered.

  “That’s it—hold up, you—I didn’t even get your name,” Grayson stumbled, torn.

  “Jake.”

  “Jake, I—I swear, I will be right back,” Grayson said, a smile tugging at his lips. “Thank you, I—just don’t move a muscle, alright? I will be right back.”

  The man named Jake just grinned, crossing his arms. “Me? Leave? I wouldn’t dare.”

  Epilogue

  LILAH

  "Mary!"

  It was useless, calling out.

  Juli’s voice had been lost on the wind, and the little girl was long gone in a whirl of giggles.

  “They don’t listen,” Lilah teased, leaning back in the rocking chair on the porch. Her eyes flicked to her sister, sitting on the bench with her arm around Espen. “It’s in their nature.”

  “That much is true,” Grayson put in, glancing over to Jake. “I can’t get Noah to do hardly anything these days. That child will be the death of me, I swear.”

  Lilah hoped that wasn’t true.

  They’d buried their father, last year.

  It was too soon for another funeral.

  Ten years, and this place had started to feel like home.

  They’d managed to squeeze a little magic back into the Basin, in her humble opinion.

  The clouds in the distance boasted weather.

  Hail, Lilah hoped.

  Hail, to start the Festival of Frost.

  It’d been such a stupid thing, the Festival. Three children, grasping at straws. Three children, treading water, trying to find some glimmer of hope in the dream they’d never talked about.

  Sure enough, the familiar patter of ice on rooftops sent a barrage of white pebble
s scattering about the settlement, that afternoon.

  And so, they beckoned in the Festival.

  The first storm after the frost, to welcome the changing seasons.

  They’d set up the kitchen table for the decorations, Lilah and Juli and Grayson, and all the Basin kids were clamoring to help, bringing in their pails of ice marbles, plunking them into the bottom of glasses, waiting.

  It’d been Juli’s idea, tying ribbon around them, making them look all lovely, the sprigs of berries and holly little make-shift winter bouquets.

  Each year, they took turns, telling of the dream.

  Of the mountain elf that had descended to warn of the Festival.

  Of the ice spiders that the fire-render chased away in the night as she’d found her flame, and her skin that burned so bright none dared touch her, lest they burn, too.

  Of the pebbles the earth-mover rained down from above, and the berries at the top of the mountain, and the fever-bush that sprouted all along the hills in the wake of flame.

  Of the Sleeping Stones and the shadows, of the man who shed his skin to run with the bears, and his lover who sang him back when he came home.

  Of magic.

  Never forgotten.

  Acknowledgements

  As with most major life decisions, this story came as an impulse, and so, I would like to thank the handful of people who hung on through the whirlwind of bringing it to life.

  My husband, for believing in Lilah, Juli, and Grayson before I ever did.

  Lauren, for showing me the world needs my voice.

  Stephen, for seeing inspiration where I only saw desperation.

  I’d also like to thank my family, found and otherwise, for helping keep the magic alive. When I doubted myself, you never did, and that has made a world of difference.

  Of course, I’d be remiss if I didn’t thank anyone who took the time to read this story. I hope that it gave you something you needed, and if it didn’t, I hope that you find whatever you’re looking for.

  As a joke, once, I thanked myself for putting in the work, and so, with a bit more sincerity this time, I would like to do so again. It’s very scary, I think, penning the story you need to hear—and need to write—but it’s been an incredible process. There is a certain amount of self-acceptance required to pen reflections of yourself, self-acceptance I unequivocally needed as I continue to affirm within myself it’s alright to break the mold. For everyone feeling the same, I wish you the bravery that writing helped me find.