Scorn of the Sky Goddess

by Tara West

  She arched a fine brow, looking at him with silvery eyes that sparkled like diamond dust in the reflection from the massive icy tusks that loomed overhead. “When do you think I’ll ever need to shoot someone?”

  “You never know, Ura.” Markus took the bow from her, cleaning it with a slick serpent-skin cloth until the wood shone once more. “It’s best to be prepared. You’re a fast learner.”

  Elements forbid Ura ever find herself in a position where she’d need to use her bow, but at least she’d stand a chance against her enemy. He was glad he’d been able to bring enough materials from above to make it. Ura had been the envy of every ice dweller when he’d presented her with a bow, arrows, and quiver as an engagement present.

  After Markus slid it back into the buckskin quiver, she leaned into him, toying with the leather fringe on his vest.

  “Thank you for my bow.” She bit her bottom lip. “It’s the most beautiful gift I’ve ever received. I know it took you days to carve.”

  “Weeks,” he said with a wink, “but you are worth it.”

  He was rewarded with a kiss. Not a long one, like he preferred—for there were climbers practicing on the gnull tusks—and he didn’t want to set their tongues wagging. They’d had enough to talk about after he’d returned without the stone. Chieftain Ingred Johan even wanted to out him, but after Ura’s father, Jon, and the old prophet, Odu, intervened, they’d convinced the Council to let Markus stay. For that, he would be eternally grateful. He’d have lost his mind if he’d been forced from Ura for good, even though he was reminded almost daily he was no longer welcome among the ice dwellers. He put up with their scowls and grumblings to wake each morning to the sight of Ura’s smile and the sweet sound of her laughter.

  “Are you nervous about tonight?” she asked as they bundled up, preparing to travel through the dark, frigid tunnel known as the icy lung.

  “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.” He pulled her fur hat tightly over her ears. She was accustomed to the cold, but he didn’t want her getting sick. “Are you?”

  “A little, but the ice has stopped melting. I think that’s a good omen.” She linked her arm through his, leaning into him as they walked.

  Scowling blue faces passed in a blur; Markus only had eyes for Ura. “Is it?”

  “Of course it is.” She motioned to the bright dome above them as they passed through a row of plants almost as tall as Markus. “Our ice walls and ceilings are stronger, and the river is receding.”

  An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of Markus’s stomach. “But we still don’t know why.”

  “I don’t care why. Our kingdom is safe once again, and soon I will be your bride.” She squeezed his arm. “Nothing else matters.”

  If only Markus were as hopeful as his bride-to-be, but he couldn’t help but worry that the strengthening ice walls and receding river were bad omens. Signs that Madhea was gaining power.

  Chapter Two

  Dianna and her companions trudged up the sandy incline, wringing water from their clothes. Two dogs shot out from the foliage at the edge of the beach, racing toward them. Ryne fell to his knees, holding his arms wide. The larger hound knocked him back in the sand.

  She smiled, admiring the blue man’s love for his companion. He heartily laughed while the mutt coated his face with slobbery kisses.

  “That’s disgusting.” Simeon stood beside her, scowling at Ryne.

  She shrugged. “I don’t think so. I’m rather fond of dogs.”

  “Elements only know where that mutt’s tongue has been,” he grumbled.

  She laughed. “I could say the same of the girls who fawn over you. I’m sure more than one has greeted you the same way.” She stole a sideways glance at him, pleased to see his cheeks flush with color.

  “Someone wants to say hello to you.” Alec placed a squirming Brendle in her arms.

  She held the little mutt to her chest as he yapped and licked her nose. “Hello, Brendle.” She giggled. “I’m pleased to see you, too. Have you been keeping a good eye on my little brother?”

  As if on cue, Des sprang from the canopy of leaves, racing down the beach. “Dianna!” He wildly waved his arms.

  She set down the dog, who raced in circles around her. She was amazed at the boy’s strength when he plowed into her, nearly knocking her to the ground. Tears welled in her eyes, and her chest ached, then expanded, as if her heart had suddenly grown three sizes. She held her sobbing brother to her bosom. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how terribly she’d missed him.

  “Oh, Des.” She ran her fingers through his dark hair, which had been cut short. She missed his untamed curls. “I’ve missed you so.” She choked with emotion and was unable to say more. She kissed the top of his head, surprised his hair smelled like fresh lavender and not sweat and grime.

  He pulled back, wiping his eyes. “I’ve missed you, too.”

  She inspected him for any signs of injury or malnourishment. What she saw both pleased and surprised her. He must have gained a stone since she’d last seen him, especially around the middle, which was soft and round, like when he’d been a baby.

  Alec tapped her shoulder. “May I join the hug?”

  “Of course.” She and Des welcomed Alec into an embrace, but Dianna inwardly cringed when she realized she hadn’t yet told Des of her relation to Alec. She didn’t know how her little brother would react when he discovered Dianna wasn’t his blood sister.

  Alec broke free first, patting Des’s back. “Zier took good care of you.”

  Des turned up his chin, jutting a finger in his chest. “I’m big enough to look after myself.”

  Alec’s smile faded, and he plastered on a look so severe, it was comical. “Of course you are, but there is no shame in relying on friends for help.” He gestured at the group behind them, who were surrounded by at least a dozen dwarf women, plying them with fruit and drinks. “Dianna and I wouldn’t have escaped Eris without help from our friends.”

  Des’s mouth fell open. “You escaped Eris!”

  “Yes, and the sea witch is no more. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you after supper,” Alec said with a wink before returning to Mari, who was sitting beneath a tall, shady tree. Two dwarf women hovered over the lovely Mari, insisting she take their offering of palma fruit.

  Des looked at Dianna with watery eyes the color of rich mahogany. “Can we go home now?”

  Dianna’s relief at finding her brother unharmed turned to sadness. How she wanted to take him back to their hut and return to their simple life, but she feared her future would be anything but simple. Even if she were to defeat Madhea, how could she return to her old life when people would be looking to her to take her mother’s place?

  “Not now, I’m afraid.” Dianna wiped a tear from his lashes, wanting to tell him they might never return to their home, but she was too much of a coward to risk disappointing him.

  “I’m bored.” Des heaved a dramatic sigh, going boneless as he leaned against her. “The dwarves won’t let me inside their walls, and I have nothing to do.”

  She sensed King Furbald was prejudiced against humankind, but to deny even children safe haven showed an unreasonable level of prejudice.

  “But you have a beautiful beach and a lagoon.”

  He crossed his arms. “Missus Zelda says the water’s dangerous.”

  She squinted. “Zelda?”

  He nodded emphatically. “Zier’s wife. She’s been watching me. She makes me take baths every day, and she forces me to eat with a fork.” He stuck out his tongue, as if eating with a utensil was akin to slurping down slugs.

  “Oh my.” She covered her mouth to hide a smile. “Sounds like you’ve been through quite an ordeal.”

  “It wasn’t all bad.” Des licked his lips and rubbed his belly. “The dwarves make the best pies.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. When two smiling dwarf women approached her with food and drink, her growling stomach reminded her she had a dragon-sized hunger that needed
to be sated. Today she’d toss all cares aside and feast, celebrating Eris’s demise and bonding with Des. Tomorrow she’d wake up to the stark reality that one more evil goddess needed to be vanquished before her brother and the rest of the world would be safe.

  DESPITE THE BONE-JARRING chill deep in the bowels of Ice Mountain, sweat beaded on Markus’s brow and his hands were clammy. The only parts of his body remotely cold were his feet, so mayhap there was truth in that saying. Still, he wouldn’t flee, though the last time he’d been so terrified was the day Madhea’s ice dragon pursued him. After today, he was going to be a married man.

  He shifted from foot to foot, trying to avoid eye contact with the few dozen invited guests who sat upon fur rugs lining the prophet’s chamber, anxiously whispering while they awaited Ura’s arrival.

  “You okay, son?” Odu was bent like a broken arrow, his long white beard nearly scraping the dull gray ice floor. He leaned forward on a gnarled cane, resting his backside against the raised pool of swirling mists, the fog pouring from the pool shrouding the old man’s feet.

  “Aye. Just worried.” He turned his gaze to the serpent-skin flap that covered the entryway. Every time it moved, his breath caught in his throat, and his limbs seized with panic. Any moment Ura would walk in.

  “Nothing to fear.” The old man chuckled. “Ura loves you, and you love her.”

  He wasn’t afraid of pledging himself to one woman for eternity; he was terrified of failing her. If Madhea’s wrath came down on their heads, he wouldn’t be able to shield his bride from the witch’s magic. Or worse, their children would be cursed by the Sky Goddess.

  He expelled a shaky breath, homing in on that doorway as if his life depended on it. “’Tis not our love I fear, but what the ice witch could do to that love should she ever find us.”

  The many lines framing Odu’s eyes crinkled like crumpled parchment.

  “Then let us pray she doesn’t.”

  Markus fought the urge to curse, fearing it would bring bad omens on his wedding day. “Believe me, Odu.” He rolled his eyes. “I have sent a thousand prayers to the Elements.” Indeed he had: every morning when he awoke, before he broke his fast, at every meal throughout the day, and finally before he crawled under his furs each night.

  The door flap pulled back again, and Markus thought he’d pass out from fright when he saw Ura’s father, Jon, emerge dressed in his finest white furs. Jon winked at Markus as he held the flap open. Markus sucked in a sharp breath when a beautiful young woman with skin the color of the summer sky and a curtain of translucent hair stepped into the room, a crown made of dried flowers on her head. She wore a long pale gown that fell around her fur boots like a waterfall spilling into a pool. When she smiled at Markus, she reminded him of a frosted cotulla flower preserved in full bloom. And this beautiful, fair maiden was to be his bride? What had Markus done to deserve her? Not enough, of that he was certain, which was why he was so terrified. Surely fate would find a way to take her from him.

  Jon walked Ura to the center of the room and placed her delicate fingers in Markus’s meaty, sweaty hand before he had time to wipe his palm on his tunic. He flashed Ura an apologetic grimace, but she simply smiled and squeezed his hand tight, amazing him with a firm grip for such a small woman. Markus was vaguely aware of Jon stepping back and Odu clearing his throat as he held an ancient parchment before him.

  “People of Ice Kingdom, we are gathered here today to witness the binding between two souls whose hearts are already entwined. The lovely Ura from the house of Nordlund and the land dweller Markus Jägerrson of the town of Adolan. These two souls seek a union blessed by the Elements.” The old prophet steadied himself against the side of the pool and held out his hands. “Markus and Ura, take my hands.”

  Markus hesitantly joined hands with the old man, and Ura did the same. Holding the old man’s bony, brittle fingers felt like cradling an injured bird wing, and he hoped he wouldn’t forget himself and hold too hard.

  The prophet turned his milky gaze on him. “Markus, do you take Ura to be your beloved bride, to cherish, love, and protect from this day forward?”

  “I will,” he blurted, hating how his voice snapped like a broken bowstring.

  “And do you promise to faithfully return Ura’s love and put no other woman before her?”

  He blinked hard at the prophet. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard accusation in the old man’s words. He had to have been mistaken. Surely Odu could see how deeply he cared for his bride. He would never, ever love another woman but Ura. “Of course I will.”

  “Very well.” The prophet solemnly nodded before turning to Markus’s bride. “Ura, do you promise to faithfully return Markus’s love and put no other man before him?”

  She flashed a dazzling smile. “Absolutely.”

  “And do you take Markus as your gallant groom,” the prophet continued, “to cherish, love, and nurture from this day until the end of time?”

  She turned up her chin, her gray eyes shining like silver gems in the soft glow of the overhead lights. “I will, and I will also protect.”

  The prophet released their hands, thoughtfully scratching his beard. “That’s not part of the woman’s vows.”

  She pulled back her shoulders. “It’s part of my vows.”

  “Ura,” Markus warned when Odu flinched as if he’d been slapped.

  “Markus?” She arched a brow, issuing him a challenging look that weakened his knees.

  He knew not what to do. Jon had warned him Ura was headstrong. That was one of the things that attracted Markus to her. Still, to challenge the prophet and her new husband during their wedding ceremony set an unfavorable precedent. He could tell he was not going to win this argument, so he did the only thing he could do—swept her up in his arms and kissed her so hard, the breath expelled from her lungs. She punched his chest at first, then surrendered to his kiss, turning as soft as clay in his arms.

  A loud, hacking cough brought him back to his senses. They pulled apart, chests heaving and breathless.

  Odu waved a finger in their faces. “It’s not time to kiss yet.”

  “Sorry.” He shrugged, flashing Ura a sideways smile, pleased when her cheeks flushed a bright crimson.

  Odu lifted his hands.

  “Oh, heavenly Elements,

  Let your will be done.

  Bind their souls as one.

  Bless their union with soil, seeds, and light from above.

  Grant them peace, health, laughter, and love.

  Keep them safe from ill will and strife.

  Gift their love with eternal life,

  So when their candles no longer bear flame,

  Their souls may rise together again.”

  He reached into his pocket and withdrew a frayed rope, grimy from centuries of ceremonial use. “With this rope, I do bind your two souls as one.”

  When the old man held out his hand, waggling his fingers, Ura placed her hand in his, and Markus followed suit.

  Odu slowly wound the rope around their wrists.

  “Markus Jägerrson.” The prophet flashed a knowing grin. “Now you may kiss your bride.”

  Before he could sweep her into his embrace, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled his head down to hers, pressing her lips so hard against his, he winced at the blunt pain. He wrapped his arms around her waist, lifted her off the ground and deepened the kiss, trying to wrestle control from her.

  She broke the kiss, then laughed, swatting his chest. “I think you’ve proved your point.”

  Odu banged his staff on the ground, the sharp sound ricocheting off the walls and causing the spikes above them to rattle. The crowd gasped and dove for cover, and Markus instinctively tucked Ura under his arms, hovering over her like a hen protecting its egg. When the spikes stopped rattling, he glowered at Odu, who had the nerve to smile.

  “People of Ice Kingdom,” the prophet said, seemingly oblivious to their grumblings as they helped each other up. “I present to you Ma
rkus and Ura Jägerrson.”

  The crowd broke into cheers and hollers, then the room went eerily silent when the spikes rattled again.

  “And now for the conclusion to our ceremony.” Odu leaned on his staff and turned to the raised pool shrouded in fog. “Your first challenge as a wedded couple is to look upon your fate in the swirling mists.”

  Markus felt as helpless as a deer caught in a hunter’s crosshairs. He’d almost forgotten about this part of the ceremony.

  “Nervous?” She held his hand, smiling.

  He wiped a bead of sweat off his brow with a trembling hand. “That’s an understatement.”

  “Do not fear.” She stepped forward, tugging, while the fog swallowed her feet. “The mists almost always show favorable prospects.”

  He dug his heels into the floor, refusing to yield. “Unfortunately, my life has almost always been ruled by unfavorable prospects.”

  “Don’t be silly.” She tossed her silky curtain of hair over her shoulder with a wink. “You got to marry me.”

  He knew not what act of madness compelled him to follow his bride to the pool of mists. Fool that he was, he followed her like an elk chasing after a cow’s scent. He stared at the pool as she stirred the mists with the tip of her finger, spinning the clouds so fast, they created a turbulent vortex before breaking apart and revealing a smooth pool of water. At first he saw only their reflections, Ura smiling and clinging to his arm, his face once the color of the fine grains of sand found at the bottom of an hourglass now a pale blue, like the other ice dwellers. Even his broad shoulders were narrower, and his dark mop of hair had a translucent, silvery sheen.

  He let out a sigh of relief when the mists revealed nothing more than a young couple in love. But then the image faded, and a new one appeared. A screaming winged witch shot bolts out of her hands, ice splintered while people ran for shelter, and Markus was crumpled on the ground at the witch’s feet. He barely had time to catch Ura when she fell into his arms, a scream dying in her throat.