The Snow Queen's Shadow (v5) (epub)

by Jim C. Hines

  Nobody moved toward the reindeer. The darkling said nothing, simply waiting.

  “It was your idea to call this thing,” Talia muttered to Danielle.

  Danielle made a face, but stepped closer, stretching out one hand as carefully as if she were reaching over an open flame. Both reindeer turned to watch her, the heads moving in unison. Her fingers brushed the first on the neck. When nothing happened, she put a hand on the reindeer’s back. With her other hand, she grasped the base of an antler and pulled herself up.

  Talia grimaced and followed suit. The reindeer was cool to the touch, but felt as solid as any horse. Her skin tingled at the contact. Gerta climbed up with her, settling herself in front of Talia. The darkling didn’t appear to mind the extra weight.

  “So who exactly are these fairy ladies that are supposed to help us?” Talia asked, trying to relax into the rhythm of the darkling’s odd, bouncing gait.

  “I’ve never heard of them,” said Gerta. Her back rested ever so lightly against Talia, reminding her of the last time she had ridden with Snow. Snow had leaned against her in just that way.

  “That’s good,” said Danielle. “Hopefully, Snow doesn’t know them either.”

  Talia glanced to the side of the road, searching the trees. The reindeer made good speed, but it was hardly subtle.

  “Few people brave these roads in winter,” Gerta said, as if reading her thoughts. “Officially, most of the mountain passes are closed from first snowfall through the spring thaw.”

  “Someone’s been through here,” Talia said, pointing to the road. The earth was frozen hard as rock, but she could make out other tracks in the snow.

  “Unofficially, the mountains are home to those who prefer to live outside of the cities and the king’s law. Criminals and others who don’t wish to be found, like Noita.”

  “Or Roland,” Talia said, remembering the name of Snow’s first lover.

  Gerta nodded. “Or the fairies.”

  “What do you think they’ll ask in return for their help?” Talia asked.

  Even from here, she could see Danielle tense. “We’ll face that once we find them.”

  “I just hope they can help us at all,” said Gerta. “The fairies of Allesandria aren’t what you’re used to in places like Lorindar or Arathea. The strongest of their race were hunted down more than a century ago. The survivors fled.”

  “Obviously not all of them.” Talia grabbed the reindeer’s antlers and tugged, trying to slow the creature.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Gerta.

  Talia twisted to search the woods behind them. “Hoofbeats, but they’ve stopped.”

  Danielle turned to look. “You’re sure?”

  “Sure enough.” Without her cape, her senses were merely human.

  “Snow’s people?” Danielle asked.

  “I don’t think so,” said Gerta. “We’re still alive, aren’t we?”

  Branches rustled in the woods to the left, and a startled pheasant burst from the bushes. It might have been nothing. Or it might have been one of their pursuers running ahead to warn his friends to prepare an ambush.

  “If I were planning to rob a group of unarmed travelers, I’d choose a place where I could surprise them,” said Talia. “Beyond that hilltop, or hidden among the trees where the forest is thicker.”

  Danielle was whispering to the air. A short time later, the pheasant returned to land on the road beside her. She bent down, still speaking in that same soft voice. The pheasant shook its feathers, spread its wings, and flew off. It landed in the trees at the crest of the hill and cried out with a rusty, “kor, korr.”

  “A shame he can’t tell me how many are waiting,” Danielle said. “Do you think they’ll have archers?”

  Talia shook her head. “Not likely in this cold, unless they want their bows to crack. Slings, possibly. Or simple stones.”

  “We could go back,” suggested Danielle. “Try to find another way.”

  “I’m tired of running. And like you said, we need supplies.” Talia jumped down from the reindeer, jogging ahead toward where the pheasant continued to shout an alarm. She tugged the knife from her belt, as all of the anger and helplessness of the past days surged to the surface. She raised her voice. “Hail the bandits!”

  Behind her, she heard Gerta sigh. “Did she just—”

  “Yes.” Danielle raised her voice. “Talia, please try to remember that not all of us share your gifts.”

  “So stay out of my way.” Talia stopped in the middle of the road to wait. She had already spotted one bandit perched in the trees. The pheasant had landed almost within arm’s reach, and he was trying unsuccessfully to shoo it away.

  Others stepped out from hiding. Talia counted seven, including the one in the tree. Add a few more coming up behind, and there could be as many as a dozen. They looked more cold and miserable than dangerous. Most were bundled in jackets and furs, making it all but impossible to tell male from female. The apparent leader brandished a gleaming hunting knife twice the size of Talia’s blade.

  “Put that toy away, girl.” A woman, middle-aged from the sound of it.

  Talia gave a quick peek over her shoulder, making sure Danielle and Gerta were staying back. They had dismounted, and were standing behind the reindeer. Good thinking.

  “Nobody’s going to hurt you,” the bandit woman went on. “Not unless we have to.”

  “I want that one, Mother,” said a girl wearing a goatskin wrap. “The red-haired one with the pretty boots and the fancy jacket.”

  Talia smiled and pulled out a small purse. The two closest bandits raised weapons. One carried a small spear, the other a leather sling. From the way it hung, he had already loaded a stone or metal shot. Talia simply twirled the purse, then tossed it to the ground with a clink. “You’re welcome to all the gold we have. All you have to do is take it.”

  She glanced at Gerta, who nodded and turned to face the other way. Gerta’s magic should make sure nobody came up from behind. Talia turned her attention back to the man with the sling.

  She didn’t have long to wait. He looked to his leader, and the sling drooped slightly.

  Talia whipped the knife through the air. It lodged in his forearm, and he fell back with a cry. Talia was already twisting to the side by the time the spearman threw. She slapped the spear away and grimaced. She would have a bruise on her forearm from that one.

  For days she had faced demons and wizards. She had lost her best friend and stood helpless to protect the prince. She had watched the capital of Allesandria fall, and throughout it all she had wanted nothing more than an opponent with whom she could stand and fight. Now the bandits had given her that opportunity.

  The battle was disappointingly short. Most of the bandits had fallen or fled by the time Talia squared off against their leader. Of the five that remained, three were unconscious or choosing to pretend. The other two were crawling away. Talia grinned and twirled a single-edged short sword she had taken from one man. “That’s a nice knife you’ve got there . . .”

  Soon Talia, Danielle, and Gerta were bundling their newfound supplies together. The bandits hadn’t been carrying much, but they had extra cloaks and blankets, not to mention better weapons.

  “You enjoyed that.” Danielle sounded like she hadn’t decided whether she should be annoyed or amused. She strapped the short sword to her belt. “And where did you get that purse?”

  “You don’t want to know.” Talia tucked the bandit woman’s knife through her belt and hid a second, smaller dagger in her boot. “Besides, better I deal with them than our darkling friend.” She rubbed her arm.

  “Let me see that,” said Gerta.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Flesh and bone against spear?” Gerta scooped a handful of snow. “Sure you are. Hold this against the arm for the swelling.”

  Talia hissed as Gerta pressed the snow to her arm, but she didn’t pull away. “It’s just a bruise.”

  “You’re lucky.”

&
nbsp; “Luck had nothing to do with it.” Though her timing was off. She had grown too used to the added strength and speed of the cape.

  “Come on,” said Danielle. “If you’re through playing, we have fairies to find.”

  The next day and a half passed without incident, as the darkling carried them higher into the mountains. The air was colder here, freezing the inside of Talia’s nostrils each time she inhaled. With fewer trees to block the wind, she had taken to riding with her head down, the hood of her stolen cloak pulled low.

  The darkling stopped without warning, twin reindeer shaking their heads in unison. When he refused to move, Talia slid to the ground and stretched. The snow was ankle-deep, swirling in the wind like the desert sands of home. “What is this place?”

  “We’re on an old mining road,” said Gerta. “The mountains are riddled with them.”

  The reindeer stepped together, melting into the darkling’s humanoid form.

  “This is where we’ll find help?” Talia searched the landscape, finding nothing but snow-covered outcroppings, gnarled trees, and the overgrown hint of the old road.

  “They’re watching us.” Gerta turned in a slow circle. “I can’t tell you where it’s coming from. There could be a glamour of some sort. If I had my mirrors—” She flinched. “Snow’s mirrors, I mean.”

  Danielle blew on her hands for warmth before tucking them back beneath her arms. She straightened and called out, “I am Danielle of Lorindar. The Duchess of Fairytown said you would help us.”

  “The Duchess is far too free with other people’s secrets.” The voice came from an orange-hued rise of rock to their left, which appeared to have been carved away to clear a path for the road. Knife in hand, Talia moved cautiously toward the rock.

  Green-tarnished metal poked through the drifted snow at its base. Talia knelt, brushing away the snow to reveal a copper cone that appeared to have been hammered point-first into a crack in the rock. The rim was pitted, and flakes of metal fell away at her touch. Warm air wafted from a small hole in the back of the cone.

  Danielle crouched beside Talia. “We wish to speak to Bellum and Veleris.”

  “And so you have.” This was a new voice, deeper than the first. “We’ve granted your wish. Now go away.”

  “Please,” said Danielle. “We need your help.”

  “Ask for her still-beating heart,” said the second voice, chuckling. “See if she’s serious.”

  “Hush.” That was the original speaker again. “All are welcome here, Princess. To the right, you should see a small doorway.”

  Talia and Gerta dug away more snow until they found a square doorway built into the earth, edged by stacked stones. A rusted ring hung from the center. “That door wasn’t there a moment ago,” said Talia.

  “It was.” Gerta was frowning at the door. “We just couldn’t see it.”

  Danielle reached for the ring, but Talia moved to stop her. “Let me. We don’t know what’s on the other side.”

  Talia yanked, and the door scraped open, revealing a tunnel that sloped down into the darkness. Fog puffed out like the breath of the mountain. Wooden beams were pressed into the earth, forming crude stairs.

  “Don’t stand there all day,” said the second voice. “You’re letting the heat out.”

  “And what’s waiting for us at the end of this tunnel?” Talia asked. There was room to enter, but she would have to crawl. Meaning anyone on the far side would have an easy time dispatching intruders.

  “Only one way to find out.” Laugher followed her from the metal cone. “We meant what we said. Everyone is welcome to enter. Whether you’ll be allowed to leave is another matter entirely.”

  CHAPTER 18

  THE STAIRS WERE WORN, BUT DRY. Roots poked through the walls and ceiling of the tunnel like white threads. Danielle crawled on hands and knees, her shoulders brushing the dirt and boards to either side.

  “You think they’ll help us?” Gerta asked from up ahead. She had conjured a small light from the setting sun, capturing a soft orange flame which scurried ahead like a flickering mouse.

  “The Duchess wants Jakob.” Speaking the words gave strength to the despair Danielle had worked to hold at bay. She clenched her throat, swallowing the fear until she regained her self-control. “Until we save him, she gets nothing.”

  Sweat trickled past one eyebrow, down the side of her cheek. She paused to loosen her jacket. Only a short distance into the tunnel, and already it felt like summer. The dry air smelled faintly of smoke and oil.

  The darkling pulled the door shut behind them. For the moment, Danielle was more worried about the darkling than the Duchess. This one was older than the ones she had fought before, and seemed less . . . wild. So far it had obeyed the Duchess’ commands to protect Danielle and her companions, but that didn’t make her any less uncomfortable with it creeping silently along behind her.

  The tunnel opened into a small, square room, reinforced by thick square-cut beams and wooden boards. On the opposite wall, an open doorway led into darkness. Gerta clucked her tongue, and her light scurried closer to one of the beams. She examined a series of simple pictures carved into the wood. “This was used as a supply room. Food, water, new tools.”

  “And now it’s the entryway into a damned fairy lair,” said Talia.

  A handful of gravel flew out of the darkness. Most struck Talia, though some caught Danielle in the face and shoulder. Talia jumped to the side of the doorway, knife in hand.

  “Mind your tongue, human. There’s no cursing here.” A pulsing orange glow approached from beyond the doorway. “Or have humans given up any pretense of civility when entering another’s home?”

  “Our apologies,” said Danielle, cutting off Talia’s response. “You understand our language?”

  “Aye. Veleris feels it’s important for us to learn the surface tongues.” The glow was getting closer. It reminded Danielle a little of a blacksmith’s forge. “I’ll be taking you to our queens myself. But first, cease that magical light. Are you trying to draw the fairy hunters upon our heads?”

  Gerta ended her spell. “I didn’t know—”

  “No magic! Nothing that could be detected by the surface.”

  “What about your glamour on the doorway?” Gerta demanded.

  “Fairy magic is natural. Subtle. Easier to hide. Even so, we use only what’s necessary to survive.”

  Danielle’s eyes had adjusted enough for her to make out the outline of their guide and his mount. She stepped back as they emerged into the already cramped room. She reached for her missing sword without thinking. “Is that a dragon?”

  “They’re the best thing for riding about the mines.” The dragon was as long as a horse from head to tail, but its body was much lower to the ground. The scales were a dirty red, almost brown. The orange glow Danielle had seen came from the dragon’s mouth, brightening with each breath. The wings were little more than stubs growing behind the forelegs, which made Danielle suspect this was a young dragon.

  The rider was a dingy man, no higher than Danielle’s knee. He wore a round helmet and heavy, oft-mended clothes so filthy she couldn’t begin to guess the original color.

  “He’s beautiful.” Gerta crouched in front of the dragon, holding out one hand. “What’s his name?”

  “Careful.” The man tugged a silver rope which was looped around the dragon’s neck. “I’ve raised Koren here from an egg, but he’ll still take your fingers if you startle him.”

  “And who are you?” asked Talia.

  He raised a small shovel and rang the blade against his helmet in salute. “You can call me Tommy.”

  Danielle tilted her head. “Your name is Tommy?”

  “No. I said you can call me Tommy.” He tucked his shovel into an oversized leather sheath he wore over one shoulder. “Even if I trusted you with my name, you humans can never tell us apart anyway. Easier to share a name among ourselves when dealing with the likes of you.”

  “He’s a knocker,�
� said Gerta, rubbing the scales along Koren’s snout. “A mountain fairy, kin to the kobolds.”

  “Only handsomer and better behaved,” said Tommy.

  Gerta continued to fawn over the dragon. “What does he eat? How often does he shed his skin? Where will he go when he’s full grown?”

  “They’ll eat just about anything, though Koren here has a fondness for fish. When he gets too big, he’ll run off into the deeper tunnels to join the rest of his kind.” Tommy leaned down to pound the side of Koren’s neck. The dragon curved his head around, and a tongue the length of an eel slapped Tommy’s face. He laughed and shoved Koren’s face away. “Their breath will curl your beard.”

  “You’ll take us to Bellum and Veleris?” Danielle asked.

  “Right this way, my lady.” He drew his shovel and knocked it against the ground. The dragon swiveled about, away from the sound. A few more raps guided the dragon back into the tunnel. Thankfully, this tunnel was large enough for Danielle and the others to walk upright.

  “Most of the main entrances to the mine are long buried,” he said. “We keep a few of the old vents cleared out, but given the way your people feel about our kind, we don’t encourage visitors down here. Not even those who’ve been vouched for by fairy nobles.”

  “The Duchess is no noble,” said Talia. “She’s—”

  “She rules over her kingdom, small as it may be,” Tommy interrupted. “That makes her noble to us. Over in Fairytown, they might cling to their old ideas about the noble caste, but when you’ve been driven into the dark, you worry less about blood and more about survival.

  “The laws against fairykind were overturned years ago,” said Danielle. “Why do you continue to hide?”

  Tommy snorted. “Show me the law that can soften the hate and the fear in people’s hearts, and then we’ll talk.”

  It didn’t take long for Danielle to become disoriented as they made their way deeper into the mountain. Tunnels veered off at seemingly random angles. She thought they were sloping downward, but her senses weren’t sharp enough to know for certain.

  The fairies kept their home in good repair. Bright planks showed where aging wood had been replaced in the walls and ceiling. She would have expected an abandoned mine to be quiet, but the air moving through the tunnels created a low background hum. She heard the occasional clank of metal against stone in the distance, though she couldn’t have said which direction the sounds came from.