Winter Tithe

by Carol E. Leever

  Nimble as the monkeys their mother often compared them to, the girls had climbed down the outer wall, fingers digging into the niches between the rough stones, toes balancing on the narrow ledges. Once on the ground, the sisters had collapsed into the soft snowbanks that had formed at the foot of the wall and gasped with exhaustion. Climbing back up the wall was not an option. They would have to find another secret way into the castle. Tokara decided to worry about that later.

  "My arms feel like I carried buckets of bricks," Tokara moaned.

  "My fingertips are numb," Caia added.

  Tokara noticed the little girl's fingers were bleeding. "Let me see that." Tokara felt guilt lapping at her. "Maybe we should go back. Get some bandages."

  The little girl shook her head stubbornly and plunged her small hands into Rask's gloves. "I'm fine," she said fiercely.

  "All right." Tokara shoved her own scraped fingers into her pair of borrowed gloves. Hope Reeve doesn't notice the blood. Then she looked from side to side. "We can still circle the castle, but we probably won't find any tracks in the fresh snow."

  Caia frowned and surveyed the area as well.

  The tree line was not far from the castle, a fact much bemoaned by their grandfather, who had once upon a time been the captain of the guards to the emperor of the distant land of Shindar. Protecting an imperial palace made him an expert on defending a fortress, or so he reminded the family at regular intervals.

  "A forest hides approaching enemies, Kadana-sa," he would advise Tokara's mother. "Have the land cleared to the mountains, so you can see anyone approaching, friend or foe."

  "There are other considerations, Yoshihiro-so," her mother would answer him respectfully, but she never clarified her reasons for not cutting the forest farther back.

  "Kadana has beliefs that are deeply entwined with the land," Tokara's father would explain to his father. "You understand the kas'injin back in Shindar. Kadana understands the kas'injin here in Kharakhan."

  At which point, Tokara's mother would gruffly say something about not wanting to discuss kas'injin, beasties, boggets or faykin, ending the friendly bickering. A few seconds later, she'd always whisper, "They might be listening." And Rask and Reeve would bust out laughing.

  "We are just guessing at a direction, you know," Tokara told Caia. She wanted her sister to make the decision whether to search or to go home, but in truth, she really wanted to return to the castle and the warmth of the great hall.

  "There are only so many directions to pick," Caia replied. "And if Howler ran into the forest, he had to pick one of them."

  "That isn't a plan," Tokara grumbled.

  "But it is an action," Caia replied, sounding older than her six years despite her soft lisp. "Mother says when in doubt, take action."

  "I don't think she meant sneak out of the castle and wander willy-nilly all over the forest."

  "How do you know?" Caia looked at her. "Did you ask?"

  Tokara fell silent. She couldn't imagine the trouble they'd be in if their mother found out they'd secretly slipped out of the castle. While the boys broke the rules on a regular basis, she had never felt the need to do anything so foolish. Even standing next to the ice-covered stone wall, her boots deep in the snow, her brother's fur cloak hanging to her ankles, she didn't exactly understand why she wasn't abandoning their quest and taking Caia back to the comfort and safety of home.

  "Howler might go to Wood Frog Pond," Caia guessed, eyes shining and cheeks apple-red from the cold.

  Tokara felt a swell of happiness build up inside of her. Seeing Caia looking almost cheerful, when the little girl had been heartbroken all morning, was worth whatever consequences their jaunt might garner.

  "He'd know the way," Caia said, soft hope in her voice.

  "Then let's go get him."

  The fresh snow made following any tracks impossible, but Tokara and Caia both knew the way to Wood Frog Pond — the children's favorite spot for swimming in summer and ice skating in winter.

  It took them only a short while to cross the icy field. As they entered the dark forest, the air grew even chillier, and Tokara could see her every breath clearly. The well-traveled path to the swimming hole was wide enough for Caia and Tokara to walk side by side. Bet Reeve and Rask have been sneaking out here.

  The crack of a thick branch giving way under the weight of snow drove Caia's gloved hand into Tokara's. Tokara squeezed her sister's hand gently. "Do you want to go back?"

  "No," the little girl said with iron determination. "If Howler went swimming, he'll be very cold. And he'll need me to wrap him in a blanket."

  Tokara wished she had thought to bring a blanket.

  The woods gradually became less dense, and every step brought the girls closer to the bright clearing they sought. Encircled by snow-dusted Kharakhian oak trees, Wood Frog Pond gleamed. A blinding jigsaw of large and small ice islands floated peacefully on the calm water. In another few weeks it would be frozen solid. Thick layers of new snow lay plied around the pond like a circular dam. Early morning sunlight swaddled every inch of the snow-covered ground like a veil made of diamonds.

  Tokara squeezed her eyes half-shut against the glare. "Doesn't look like Howler's here," she whispered. "I don't think anyone is here."

  "Every creature in the forest is sleeping." Caia let go of Tokara's hand and moved closer to the pond's edge. "I don't hear anything."

  Tokara listened closely, expecting at least the faint hooting of owls or the distant call of morning birds. The silence that met her seemed complete and unnatural. While many creatures would be in deep hibernation — birds flown off for winter and little amphibians frozen on the pond bottom or burrowed below the frost line — many more usually roamed freely during the cold months, desperate for food. The utter silence of the forest alarmed her.

  Why is it so quiet? Tokara thought, but she kept silent — not wanting to scare her sister.

  A hard, wet object hit her in the side of the head and burst into a snow shower.

  Caia hooted. "Got you!" She pelted Tokara with another oversized snowball. The powdery orb hit in the center of Tokara's chest, wet slush finding its way through the opening of her borrowed cloak.

  "Brrawtpt!" Tokara spat out incomprehensibly. "You're a baked potato!" She scooped up as much loose snow as her gloved hands could grasp and formed it into a coarse globe.

  Thwap. Another snowball hit her in the face. She couldn't see a thing, but she blindly chucked her own snowy missile in the direction of Caia's ceaseless, high-pitched laughter. Tokara heard the impact before her eyes cleared of ice crystals.

  Caia's giggling resumed, and snowball fight fever took hold of both girls. They scooped and hurled an interminable number of snowballs at each other, some as big as pumpkins, some the size of apples.

  After circling Wood Frog Pond a dozen times in the heat of the game, Tokara trapped Caia between two high snow drifts, the natural corridor allowing dozens of back-and-forth volleys as Tokara encroached on her sister's space.

  Overheated and gasping for breath, both girls collapsed in the snow next to each other. Tokara sprinkled the tiniest handful of ice crystals onto Caia's rabbit fur cap, the flaps preventing the white slush from getting into her sister's ears.

  "You win," the little girl sputtered, laughter still shaking her.

  "Say that again." Tokara panted.

  "You win. You win," Caia crowed. "Tokara is the snowball champion!"

  An odd snort followed Caia's declaration.

  Tokara burst out laughing.

  "That wasn't me," Caia whispered, all humor gone from her voice.

  Tokara looked up, eyes watering from the merciless rays of morning sun.

  Backlit against the bright sky, a large shadow menaced from above the wall of snow to her right. A low growl followed another snort.

  Tokara shot to her feet, dragging Caia up by her collar. "Run!" she shouted to her little sister, pushing her away from the creature, toward the snow corridor's opening and the e
scape of the frozen lake.

  Caia shrieked like a barn owl.

  "Don't turn around!" Tokara bellowed. "Run!"

  A heavy object struck Tokara in the back. She fell forward and hit her chin on the hard-packed snow. Her head snapped back and pain shot through her neck and shoulders. A crushing weight landed on her back and squeezed almost all the remaining air from her lungs. Sparkly mist danced in front of her eyes, but through the haze she spied Caia clearing the bank of the pond and hopping from ice floe to ice floe.

  "Safe home, Caia," Tokara wheezed as bitter cold swept up her limbs. Icy blood coursed through her veins toward her heart. She felt her heartbeat slowing as the weighty mass pressed her down into the snow. The pain seemed distant, and spinning shadows danced in front of her eyes.

  She struggled to raise her head. At what was to her an immeasurable distance, she spied her sister's red-gold hair bouncing against the white landscape.

  Her frozen lips couldn't form the words, but she felt the tug of a smile.

  Safe home.

  Her eyes lost the ability to focus and everything surrounding her became a colorless flutter. She smelled a both sweet and acrid musk surrounding her. With a bone-shattering snap, the world around her perished.

  Chapter 4: Ice Cave

  Tokara woke up, but she couldn't move.

  She strained hard to see. Her vision was fuzzy as if she were peering through very cloudy, very thick glass. She couldn't feel her extremities, but a vicious cold penetrated her torso and snaked into her neck. Her jaw was stiff and immovable, clamped shut like a bear trap. Taking even the tiniest sniffs through her nostrils was a chore, only a pinprick opening allowing her to take in life-sustaining air. Her lungs refused to expand very far, and though she tried to stay calm, the sharp edge of panic cut at her mind with quick strokes.

  Breathe. Out. Breathe. In. Breathe. Out.

  Her vision swam as teardrops dammed in the corners of her eyes and then almost instantly froze into another thin sheet of ice. During the split-second reprieve, she thought she spotted pale cave walls, several golden haystacks, and a white mountain rising and falling in the very center of a large cavern.

  She dismissed the odd image as her mind playing tricks and instead paid attention to her other senses.

  Breathe. In. Breathe. Out. Breathe. In.

  Her nose detected more of the unusual musk she'd noticed earlier, but the scent had grown more intense. The underlying sweetness reminded her of spoiled milk and unwashed dog ears.

  Like when the puppy came down with those awful ear mites.

  Sharp, herbaceous notes pricked through the sweet odor.

  Bayberry and thyme. She had a distant memory of bayberry candles burned in the shrines at year's end and of the thick bunches of wild thyme on Aster's drying racks.

  Tokara was keenly aware of the steady, if slow, beating of her own heart. The constant tap tap assured her that she was still alive.

  Distantly, she heard low breathing — not her own. The breaths were labored and seemed pained. Before she could orient herself toward the sound, a low moan disrupted the sluggish breaths. Another followed. It started like a hollow echo that seemed to creep up from the bottom of a deep well, but then it built into the high, hurried whine of a dog in distress. The noise ceased abruptly, and the labored breathing began anew.

  "Mother says when in doubt, take action." Caia's words bounced around in her head.

  "Shh," Tokara whistled through her frozen-together lips, trying to lull the source of the moans. Stay asleep, whatever you are. "Shh. Shh. Shh." She tried to make her sounds soothing and warm. She wiggled the tip of her tongue against her front teeth in an effort to pry them apart. "Shh."

  The minuscule movement loosened the tight muscles around her eyes slightly. Her lids twitched, cracking the ice skin sealing her eyeballs.

  She could almost see clearly again.

  The interior of the cave was dim, but Tokara's eyes had been shielded for so long that even the smallest bit of light helped her to make out shapes and textures. The cave was large, she noted, vaguely round, and possessed a high domed ceiling. The walls seemed made of snow or light stone. Several tunnels shot off straight ahead of her, leading away from the main area.

  Is that the way out?

  Tokara didn't remember how she'd gotten to the cave and wondered how much time had passed since the attack. She hoped Caia was safe back at home by the hearth.

  As long as Caia is safe, whatever happens to me doesn't matter.

  Sadness enveloped her like a soft embrace.

  I'll never see my family again. Momma. Caia. Rask. Reeve. Papa. Baba. My friends. Everyone at the castle. I'll never see the dogs. Howler. The horses. Our family in Melia. The Sundragons. I'll never meet the talking cat. I'll never travel with Momma. I'll never grow up . . . I thought I'd get the chance to grow up . . .

  A powerful, unstoppable sob punched her stomach from the inside; her lungs expanded painfully, and she threw open her mouth to let out a terrified scream. The harrowed sound was odd and unfamiliar, merging both her voice and some feral wail that would escape an animal's throat.

  Blood rushed through Tokara's limbs, the strength and energy granted by fear fanning through her muscles.

  A great rumble answered her scream, like an avalanche sounding from far away.

  She closed her mouth and jolted forward.

  What she had taken to be a white mountain on the cave floor roused itself and turned around again and again while repeatedly roaring the incredible blare. The beast that had attacked her in the snow rose to its full massive height and thundered with anger.

  Big and shaggy, the monster had the barrel body and the tree trunk legs of a great Kharakhian brown bear, though it was far larger and white as cream. Head and snout were more doglike than bearlike. But Tokara couldn't see much past the monster's teeth. Its fangs gleamed in the low light and flashed every time it shook its massive head.

  Tokara stumbled; she hit her back against the hard cave wall. She winced at the impact. Stones pelted the ground with a faint swoosh, as if she'd thrown a handful of sand over her shoulder.

  The beast crouched low, drawing back as if to leap. It rumbled low in its throat.

  Tokara had almost regained her footing when the monster lunged toward her. The giant white wolf head, for it was wolf not dog that snapped at her, took up her entire field of vision.

  She braced for the fatal bite.

  Perversely, the heart-stopping moment before contact seemed to slow down. For Tokara, the normally imperceptible ticks of time stretched into an eternity of anticipation, dread and resignation. Time stopped, lingered, and then languidly moved on.

  But the anticipated bite did not come.

  The monster sniffed the air, as if assessing her.

  Unable to move, she studied its face.

  The leathery skin of its nose was black cherry, not coal black as she'd thought. The long white furs fluffing around its ears were spiderweb thin. The monster had extraordinarily long eyelashes, white as frost. Most startling and mesmerizing was the blue of its eyes, forget-me-not blue, robin egg blue, blue like the sky on a clear spring day.

  Tokara screamed.

  The monster roared.

  Fear burned through her like fire, and she bolted. Somehow, she scooted past the hulk of white fur and ghastly fangs and sprinted toward one of the tunnels at random, her flight born of instinct not calculation.

  As if caught in a nightmare, she couldn't seem to move as fast as she wanted. Running was like losing her feet in the mud of the moors. She pulled her legs up with tremendous effort, every step more the result of will than of physical exertion.

  My body isn't listening to me!

  The pounding of giant thickset paws juddered the cave floor behind her.

  All around Tokara, on each side of the wide frosty tunnel, piles of gleaming metal and sparkling colors — red, blue, green, yellow, lavender — rose up nearly to the ceiling of the cave.

 
Treasure, her analytical mind told her. Run! her instincts screamed.

  Before her the light shifted, brightened. The tunnel turned slightly, and she rounded the corner with a flush of joy at her imminent liberation.

  A large, enclosed room spread before her. The air was freezing cold, and she could once again see the breath in front of her face.

  Dead end!

  Large crystal shards half-embedded in the white stone walls gave off light as frigid as the distant stars. Despite the illumination, the content of what stood before her was very difficult to discern. Nothing in her nearly ten years of life had prepared her for the rows of shapes lining the walls. At first, she thought they were people, frozen and blue like Neyla and Zennia had been.

  The sound of the monster rampaging through the tunnel was suddenly no longer critical. The unmoving people took up the entirety of her awareness.

  What is this?

  Some were ordinary men and women, Kharakhian by feature and clothing. Some were not. Some were very tall, perhaps elvin by their regal dress. Some of them were short and hairy, with broad faces and round glazed-over eyes. Some were animal, some reptile. One ragged shape had features so distorted and disturbing, she could not look upon it after the first glance.

  Her heart constricted.

  They are all prisoners.

  Then she saw that some were without the plump moisture of flesh. They were drawn in and wrinkled like grapes turned to raisins. Some, finally, were without skin and flesh, only skeletons held up somehow by their clothes or armor. And some were piles of bleached bones.

  This is the monster's graveyard.

  She bowed her head.

  I am going to die here.

  Old dust tickled at the small hairs in her nose.

  She closed her eyes.

  "Betyrne," the monster growled behind her.

  It speaks? She held her breath.

  "Betyrne!" it repeated more forcefully, the music of the word had an ancient melody, one she couldn't grasp.

  "You killed all those people," she said, her voice quivering. She shook inside, but her anger at the creature who had killed so many over so long made her stubborn and put the fear temporarily out of reach.