by Tom Hansen
“All we want when we get back from a long shift is to kick our feet back and spend every dime we just made on alcohol. Is that too much to ask of her majesty?”
“Alcohol!” Ynya yelled, this time her voice gruff once again. She resisted the urge to smile. This was getting fun.
“Alcohol!”
At that moment, a fierce wind blasted through the camp right into Ynya’s face. The wind was so intense it filled her hood with air like a bladder. The frigid wind felt amazing on her overheated skin, dropping Ynya’s body temperature by a couple degrees and pushing out most of the stuffy air from underneath her thick coats.
The others didn’t fare so well, though. They’d already removed their coats and hoods before coming back out to get in the other guard’s face.
All three of them were left chilled, with teeth chattering. Their faces were bright red, as if they’d been hit by frostbite.
Ynya realized it hadn’t been a simple wind.
It was magic!
The guard who had come for Ynya’s doppelgänger stood in the same spot, the same stern expression on his scarred and squared-off face. Along the outside of his leathers a ring of small icicles pointed toward the large tent. His face was a mix of annoyance and irritation.
The magic wind didn’t come from him. The magic had to have come from behind him!
Ynya looked up with a mixture of terror and excitement. She’d never met another mage before! While, yes, her mother technically had magic, it had always been so subtly used that it was like she hadn’t had it at all.
Behind the guard stood a woman dressed in a tight-fitting black leather corset and flared leather skirt split down the center. Below the skirt, she wore skin-tight pants tucked into boots. A small fur-lined hood covered her head and shoulders, and more fur cuffed her long sleeves.
Her squared-off neckline displayed her milky white skin, but a silver tattoo on her chest caught Ynya’s attention, though she wasn’t able to see what it was from this distance.
The woman in black was beautiful and powerful. She was everything Ynya had envisioned a mage would be.
Ynya swallowed, unsure of what to say. She couldn’t stop looking at the beautiful woman.
Luckily, she didn’t have to say anything, because the gruff guard wrinkled his frost covered brow. “As I said, Grof, the captain would like to speak with you.”
Ynya glanced at the guard for only an instant, but by the time she looked back, the woman was gone. A ghostly imprint of her form still lingered, barely perceptible, in the falling snow.
Ynya swallowed and followed the man in silence. He led her to the larger of the tents on the edge of the camp and left her there.
“She’ll come get you when she is ready. Meanwhile, I’m going show your companions what it means to earn their keep.”
He turned, but not before a small, evil smile crept across his face.
A sharp shiver shot up Ynya’s spine at the look. In the handful of minutes she’d gotten to know those men, she’d started to take a bit of a liking to them. They were bumbling idiots, all of them, but they had a certain charm in their camaraderie.
But then Ynya remembered why she was here and her heart grew cold.
For a moment, she had been lost in the moment, but there was no fun here, no joy. Ynya was on a mission and the last few minutes she had allowed herself to forget her goal. If those men had been party to the destruction of her hometown, then they deserved every punishment they received.
Ynya gritted her teeth and clenched her hands under the thick coat. She needed to stay focused, she needed to keep her mind on the goal and not deviate.
Ynya glanced around, taking down her hood for a moment to clear out some of the heat. She unbuttoned her large coat and flapped it a few times to allow the biting air in and the overwhelming heat out.
She yearned to jump into the snow, to fully cool off, and soak her dress in cold, icy water, but she couldn’t risk it right now.
The crunch of boots off to her side made Ynya don everything once again. This place is crawling with soldiers! They paced between the tents in a slow, methodical route, each one seemingly in time with the other, as-if a never-ending drum bore out their every step.
With her mind cooled off, Ynya could finally think.
If the woman in black is a frost mage, and I’m a fire mage, does that mean anything? Would I be more or less effective against her? I don’t know! It’s not like I’m able to shoot fireballs like the wizards in the stories. All I can do is heat things up.
A wry smile crossed Ynya’s lips. It was her time to do something evil. After a quick glance around for any guards, she slipped off a glove and poured heat into the tent fabric behind her.
But just as she did, the tent flap opened and the woman burst out.
“Grof! Oh, there you are, come in. I have a special project for you.”
Ynya glanced down at her discarded glove. She couldn’t pick it up if she wanted to, so she pulled her hand into her sleeve and followed the woman inside, grateful she’d put her hood back up already.
Ynya resumed her position inside the tent, putting both hands behind her back to mock being at attention. She had no idea if the attention was appropriate, but she used the opportunity to touch the tent fabric once again.
The woman in black grabbed a piece of parchment off her desk and shoved it at Ynya. “I have a special mission for you. I understand you’re the only one of this company who can read?”
She didn’t know if Grof could, but Ynya definitely could read. Her mother had taught them all from a young age.
She took the piece of parchment with her gloved hand.
A quick scan of the document told her everything she needed to know about this special mission. A quarter of the way down were four names. She flexed her jaw as she read.
Synol Oblique
Ynya Oblique
Finny Oblique
Meki Oblique
Anger flowed through her in rivulets. Ynya didn’t even try to keep it under control, but allowed the rage to overwhelm her and ignite the tent.
Flames caught slowly and built, widening along the canvas and up toward the top. The smell of burnt cloth and rancid oil hit her nostrils.
In seconds, the entire tent was on fire.
The woman in black turned, a surprised expression on her face as she tried to comprehend how her tent had just burst into flames.
From out in the cold, someone yelled, “Fire!”
Document in hand, Ynya screamed and ran.
The flames spread to the other tents. The whole place had caught fire in less than a minute. The fire had been just enough chaos for Ynya to escape.
Ynya felt the magic of the mage behind her as she ran back along the road toward the dead men, the mule, and her supplies. She dumped most of the furs and dragged the dead soldier back closer to the road.
Ynya hoped it would make it look like Grof had run, even though a close examination of the body would prove otherwise. She looked at the darkening sky. She might be in luck. There was a good chance she would never been seen again with the incoming storm.
Chapter Twelve
Ynya arrived at the outskirts of Holmslatr two days later.
She re-read the parchment one more time; orders from Fellsstrond Castle asking for the capture of four known traitors to the Frost Queen. Anyone who stood in the way of their living capture would be executed according to law. It listed their names, their ages, and from where they hailed; Marsfjord.
Ynya’s elation in discovery turned sour as she realized her Mama, Papa, and everyone else in the village had been murdered because the Frost Queen wanted her and her sisters.
Why?
Ynya felt sick to her stomach. Her knees buckled, unable to support her weight.
Questions swirled in her head, too many questions, but she needed to focus.
The reasons didn’t matter, the methods were too long ago to debate. The most important thing was to find her sisters and get
them away from the Frost Queen. Worrying about the why’s and how’s was a waste of time at this point.
Time continued to tick around Ynya, and every second wasted was one second her sisters traveled farther from her.
The Frost Queen.
The name seared into Ynya’s mind. She’d never met anyone who had ever seen the Frost Queen, but everyone in the world knew the name. She was the ruler of the frozen north, for what that was worth, and a supposedly powerful mage. Her throne was far to the east, past Lyraville and whatever terrain lay in the Skoro district. If rumors were true, she’d been in power for over a hundred years, but Ynya knew that to be balderdash. No one lived that long.
Maybe the adults had payed attention to their supposed leader, but Ynya hadn’t. It had never seemed important to her.
Maybe it would be important to her later, but right now she couldn’t worry about some frost mage hundreds of miles away. She needed to find her sisters.
Finny and Meki were supposedly captured by soldiers and taken to Lyraville or beyond.
Synol was on that list too, Ynya didn’t know if she was safe.
She needed to find Synol before anyone else did.
Coming up over the rise to look out on the valley below, Ynya was blown away by just how huge Holmslatr was. Stretching the entire width of the valley before her, many of the buildings had multiple stories, something she had heard was possible, but never seen with her own eyes. Trees grew from every crevice not filled with a house or other structure.
People bustled the streets here. They walked around, chatted, and bought things from the half dozen market stalls in the center of town.
Half a dozen market stalls!
Marsfjord had one, and it was only open when you woke up cranky old man Beaunar.
Ynya stood frozen in place for minutes while she took it in. No wonder Synol had wanted to move here. She’d always been a girl too rich for simple village life. She’d never appreciated exploring caves, or hunting ice foxes in the morning.
Synol had hated the water, fishing, and small towns, and this place seemed well-suited to a girl like that.
Ynya walked into town with her head held high. She soon found herself in the market. The large road had many small shops lining each side, some looked like they had been there longer than Ynya had been alive.
She approached the first one, which seemed to be selling smoked fish. Her stomach groaned from the aroma, but Ynya didn’t have any money, nor could she steal anything in broad daylight. Not now.
“Excuse me, do you know of a Synol from Marsfjord? She recently married a Torkelsen.”
The shopkeep turned her head in a curious expression. “Synol from Marsfjord? Can’t say I know of anyone by that name, Miss, but the Torkelsen boy, Stefan I think his name is, he did just get married, but it weren’t to no lass from Marsfjord. I think she came from Kropprfjell, you know?”
Ynya thanked the woman and moved down a few more stalls.
There, a thin gentleman hammered away at some leather shoes, attaching thick soles to a set of moccasins with small metal brads.
“Hmm, sorry, young lass, you might try the ladies, they keep up with that sort of gossip better than I do.”
Ynya continued her querying.
Two stalls later it was clear there was no Synol in town, and certainly no one from Marsfjord. The last woman, a candlemaker, pointed her toward the water. “My sweet Annabelle works in their house, it’s just down there and left at the ship, you see?”
The massive house was at least as large as twenty from Marsfjord. It boggled her mind how these homes stand so incredibly tall!
Outside, the home had a sign from carved wood that read “Torkelsen”. This had to be the place.
The only problem was a guard out front. This man didn’t look like one of those bumbling idiots patrolling the road, but at least he didn’t give off the sinister vibe of the women in white or black. He had to be a northerner, like her.
“Excuse me, I’m here to find my sister Synol. She came from Marsfjord and married Stefan Torkelsen.”
The guard took half a step back and placed his hands on a small club attached to his belt. “Who? There is no one here by that name.”
Ynya’s mind slowly processed the words. After spending an hour chatting up vendors and finding the house, she wasn’t ready to hear that she was still far from finding her sister.
What did it mean? Did the soldiers already gotten to Synol? Did her man already remarried after his wife’s been taken from him? Was Synol just a trinket to throw away and get a new one when someone else took it from you?
The long hours spent traveling and hiding, the lack of food, and the lack of sleep caught up with Ynya. Every time she thought she was getting closer, she realized just how far away she was from any real conclusion to this mystery.
Ynya poured heat into her hand. It was time to get some answers. She’d been on the road for too long and only received more questions. She was sick of not getting anything final, of not getting closer to her goals.
Rage and frustration built under her skin. She wouldn’t take no for an answer anymore.
This guard was going to tell her where her sister was.
A strong scent of sugar and alcohol hit her nostrils. A wet piece of cloth covered her mouth and nose.
Ynya looked to her side and saw an older woman smiling. She reeked of alcohol and her eyes were white and milky. Ancient burn marks around her eyes told of a long history with fire.
Ynya’s head reeled. She couldn’t breathe! She swam through the air and didn’t know which way was up.
The woman with the scarred face told the guard. “I’m sorry, sir, my sister is a little crazy in the head. I will take her back to my home and make sure she doesn’t bother you anymore.”
Synol?
Then everything went black for Ynya.
Chapter Thirteen
Ynya awoke with a start. Her head pounded, but instead of a bright room and Synol sitting across from her, Ynya was surrounded by darkness.
She sat up. Pain flashed through her head as she slammed her forehead into something hard.
Ynya put her hand out and touched the thick wooden beam. She felt the dent in the corner from where her forehead crushed the fibers. The searing pain through her forehead bounced around in her skull, turning her world inside out once again.
She blacked out.
Ynya awoke with a start. Her head pounded, worse than before. A dull ache in the back and a sharp pain in the front across her forehead.
The darkness pressed in all around her. She remembered the timber above her head and reached out of for it, placing her hand and feeling the dent once again.
Apparently, she hadn’t dreamed that part.
“Synol?” She queried the darkness.
Something shuffled in the unlit room.
“Synol? Is that you?”
A small cough came from her left, then a sniffle from her right. The cough sounded like a child.
What is going on?
Ynya needed light, but she hadn’t eaten in days, and her energy was running dangerously low.
Still, she needed to see, she would need to use her energy.
Grabbing a strand of hair, Ynya pinched it between her fingers and poured heat into the tips of her index finger and thumb. The heat transferred into her hair and flared to light.
It surprised her to see she was in a small room with a wooden beam roof, and a dirt floor. There was barely enough room to sit up let alone walk around.
Dozens of small dirty heads looked back at her with wide, frightened eyes.
“What is going on? Where am I?” She barked at the children. “Who are all of you?”
“I see you’re awake.”
A familiar voice, old and scratchy and female, came from her left.
Ynya turned. Heat coursed through her veins in time with her flaring temper.
She grabbed onto the wood above her, ready to pour heat into the structure. “I�
�ll burn this place down if you don’t let me go.”
Then Ynya saw her.
The old woman seemed quite calm on the dirt floor. She held a small child in her lap and rocked gently while the kid sucked his thumb.
“You are free to go anytime you want, my dear girl. No one is holding you here other than your own clumsiness.”
It was the same woman who had taken her away from the guard. She recognized the scarring around the woman’s milky eyes.
Ynya suddenly felt self-conscious about her fiery threat. She dropped the heat, which she couldn’t sustain much longer anyway, and lowered the light between her fingers.
“Where am I?”
“You are safe.” The woman indicated the room with her free hand. “These are all refugees from the Frost Queen, hiding out from her soldiers.”
Frost Queen.
Ynya tamped down the incendiary reaction to the name.
“She took my sisters.”
“I know.”
“How? Do you know who I am?”
The old woman smiled. She was missing four teeth, and the rest were yellowed with age, but it was still a sweet gesture. “I know you are here for Synol, but I do not know your name. In fact, half the town knows you are here for Synol. You’ve done a good job of that.”
She licked her lips and leaned forward, pointing a wrinkled finger at Ynya. “If you want to get your sister killed, continue announcing to everyone you come across who you are and who you’re looking for. Perhaps you should shout from the rooftops that you are a fire mage and you are here to find your other fire mage sister. I’m sure no one at all will tell the Skarmyord.”
Ynya swallowed.
Skarmyord.
Her mother had mentioned the name late one night to her father when they thought all the girls were asleep. Ynya didn’t know what it meant, but if her mother was afraid of the word, then she was too.
“My sister doesn’t have magic.”
The woman scoffed. “Doesn’t matter if she does or not. All family members of mages are being taken to Reyoarfjell for testing.”