Crown Of Ice

by Vicki L. Weavil

  I pause, leaning against the icy wall of the corridor for support. I can guess her story. She must have died during her transformation from girl into Snow Queen. I know not all Voss’s creations survive the awful force of his magic. I have glimpsed them amidst the wraiths—the most pitiful of all, their final agonizing memory their constant torment.

  “Burning.” The wraith extends her filmy hands.

  “Leave me.” In her ghostly face I spy my future, if I do not prevail over Voss and the mirror. “You’ve no power here.”

  The wraith wails, reminding me of cries that released an avalanche. I clench my fist, creating a spear of ice, and throw it toward the creature. A foolish gesture. The wraiths feel nothing, or at least nothing outside their tortured minds.

  I hurry into the stables and hitch my favorite pony to a sledge. I don’t need my sleigh today. I’m not yet ready to capture Kai. I’m after smaller game.

  As we fly over mountain peaks and valleys, I scan the ground, searching for any movement against the jagged planes of snow and ice. A herd of shaggy reindeer and a few lumbering bears cross below me before I spy a solitary dark form streaking toward a small cave. I call to my pony, slowing his pace and directing him to the ground. We land just outside the cave.

  I leap from the sledge, dropping the reins into a snow bank. I know the pony won’t bolt. He, like all our horses, is trained to remain still when any part of his harness touches the earth. No moose or bear can spook this pony—he’s far more afraid of me.

  I stride toward an opening in a large outcropping of rock, my boots not breaking the crust on the snow. At the mouth of the cave I call forth a ball of cold light and hold it before me, cupped in my ungloved hands. It illuminates the interior of the cave, showing me what I’ve come to see—a female wolf and her pups.

  The wolf bares her teeth as a low growl resonates through her lair. I fix my gaze upon her face. She stares back, her golden eyes scarcely blinking. I draw upon one of the powers I possess—magic that Mael Voss has granted me. The wolf’s eyes glaze as I slow her heartbeat. She lowers her head with a sigh that seems to expel all the air from her lungs. She gives one of the pups a final, gentle, lick as her eyelids flutter and close.

  The wolf pups whimper, immediately sensing something’s wrong. They crawl over their mother, nuzzling her still form with their snouts. I lean in and grab the smallest of the pups and thrust it, wriggling and whining, beneath my cloak. The others I leave with their mother. I’m not certain that the wolf will wake—one curse of this power is that I can’t always determine the line between life and death. With any luck, the mother will shake off the effects of my magic after I’ve gone. But I cannot be sure. If she dies, I know the pups will starve, if they don’t freeze first.

  I clutch my prize to my breast and regulate my uneven breathing. I’ve no desire to harm these creatures, but I only need one pup. I cannot risk the wolf attacking me, and I certainly can’t care for all the pups. There’s nothing to be done. It’s the way of things.

  With my squirming baggage bundled in a bearskin wrap, I take up the reins and urge the pony into the pearly gray sky. We head back to the palace, swift as the eagles circling us, the pup’s whimpering drowned in the rush of the wind.

  ***

  I don’t release the wolf from his bindings until I reach my chambers. By this point he’s soiled the white fur wrap and gnawed a hole through one of the leather straps. I ball up the bearskin and throw it into a corner of the room. One of our servants will collect it later.

  The pup bounds away, racing across the stone floor so fast that his legs slide out from under him. He skids into a wall, yelps, and nips at the reindeer hide hanging above his head.

  “So”—I throw off my cloak and sit on my bed, staring at the wolf—“I suppose I must find you something to eat.”

  The pup’s gaze pierces me like a shard of ice. He waddles toward me, but stops and sits in the middle of the chamber. His eyes never leave my face.

  “I imagine reindeer milk might do.” I eye the animal. Although Voss has enchanted many creatures to do our bidding, he’s never brought a wolf into the palace. He claims that they are far too intelligent to imbue with any magical powers.

  I am not concerned. This pup won’t live here long, and I have no intention of conjuring him into anything. He isn’t a work animal or a pet. He is merely bait.

  “Come along, then.” I rise to my feet and cross the room in a few strides, opening the heavy wooden door that seals my chambers. I step into the hall and illuminate the icy blocks of the walls. Glancing back, I notice that the pup is trailing me. A smile twitches the corners of my mouth.

  It’s almost too easy, I muse as I make my way to the kitchens. The pup pads along behind me. To my surprise he doesn’t run off when one of the wraiths attempts to block our path. He stands his ground and barks sharply until the wraith whimpers and wafts back into the shadows.

  “Good boy.” I give him an approving nod before I stride into the larder. Its wooden shelves bend under the weight of stone crocks and tin boxes. Barrels line the walls. It reassures me that there’s plenty of food stored for the winter. There should be enough, even if I bring another human into the palace. The stores will only be needed for two of us as Voss has long since abandoned the need to eat, and the wraiths require no such sustenance. “Come now, I’ll give you some dinner. We must keep up your strength. Tomorrow we travel far.”

  The pup looks up into my face and cocks his head. Of course he can’t speak, but those clear eyes are bright with some form of comprehension.

  “You’re my lure,” I tell him, reaching for a heavy crock that holds reindeer milk. I pour the milk into a small bowl carved from ice. When I sit the bowl on the floor the pup sniffs the air before inching forward to lap a few mouthfuls.

  “You’ll draw Kai to me.” I touch the pup on the head as he buries his nose into the milk. His fur is soft as feathers, and warm. Warmer than anything I’ve felt in many years. I yank back my hand and press it against the icy surface of the kitchen table. “And with Kai’s help, I will survive.”

  ***

  The following morning I feed the pup before bundling him in a clean fur wrap. I carry him to the stables and place him on the floor of the sleigh to wait while I harness the ponies. When I climb into the sleigh he doesn’t wiggle or whimper, but rather drops his head upon one of my reindeer hide boots and sighs gustily. He rolls his eyes so that he can stare up into my face.

  “Yes, you’re being good,” I say. This seems to satisfy him. He gives one sharp bark, closes his eyes, and falls asleep.

  We travel across my kingdom, over a country devoid of any human habitation, finally reaching the mountain pass that leads to Kai’s village. I call up a light drift of snow to hide my sleigh as we land and speed across the frozen ground.

  At the edge of the village I slow the ponies to a trot. Anyone viewing my arrival would see an ordinary gray sleigh, its only occupant a slight figure swallowed up in white furs. Just a stranger passing through. Always careful, I conjure snow flurries to whirl about my face and blur my features.

  It’s merely a precaution, as no one in the village will recognize me. Even when I lived with them they did their best to avoid me. They called me cursed—some even claimed I might draw a blight upon them. Whenever I sail over the thatched rooftops, I observe the village where I spent my childhood with barely repressed anger. The place holds no fond memories except for my earliest recollections, before my parents died.

  This does not touch me, let it go.

  No, not one of them will recognize me. I’ve been transformed from that young girl who lived among them, yet never lived as one of them. My hair, always pale, is now white as mist. My once gray eyes are clear as new ice. Gerda saw it, that day in the church, what I would become. But even Gerda won’t recognize my features now—every curve chiseled into an angle, every angle sharpened by time and necessity. She can’t possibly glimpse that young girl i
n my beautiful and terrifying mask of a face.

  I halt the sleigh behind the mill owned by Kai and Gerda’s families. The wooden walls of the mill, weathered a pale silver, rise above a foundation of large stones. The great wheel sits silent, its bottom third sunk into the frozen lake, stalactites of ice decorating its paddles. I glance over the lake and observe a group of people skating on its crystalline surface. I know, from previous scouting missions, that Kai and Gerda are likely to be part of that crowd.

  The wolf pup stirs at my feet. I lean down and open his fur blanket, then lift him into my lap. “Now’s the time for you to do me some good.” He yawns and stretches before flopping over on his back, his paws flailing. I lay my hand against the downy fur of his belly to keep him still.

  “Enough of that,” I say, as he nuzzles my fingers. I thrust him beneath my heavy cloak, one hand cradling him against my breast as I climb from the sleigh. It won’t do for anyone to see the pup before my plan is put into action. I walk to the edge of the lake, near the water wheel. A tumble of grasses, desiccated and tipped with ice, clutters the shore between the mill and the wheel. I watch the skaters until I spy Kai and Gerda gliding in my direction. In one swift movement I pull the wolf pup from beneath my cloak and deposit him in the tall stalks of dead grass, then turn on my heel and flee to my sleigh.

  The pup’s howls ring through the clear air, but he can’t follow me. I’ve employed a touch of magic to freeze him in place, preventing him from moving from his grassy nest. Standing by the head of one of my ponies, I spin a whirlwind of snow about my sleigh and watch as Kai skates closer, drawn by the wolf pup’s cries. Gerda doesn’t follow him—I make sure of this, sending a gust of wind that blows her backward. She calls out to Kai but he tells her to return to the others while he investigates the source of the noise.

  As Kai approaches the tangle of grasses I step forward, moving closer as he pushes aside the weeds to uncover the wolf pup.

  “What have you found?” I ask, adjusting the hood of my cloak until it shadows my face.

  “A wolf.” Kai turns and I’m astonished by the wonder in his dark eyes. “Just a baby. All on its own, poor thing.” He bends down and picks up the pup, cradling it gently against his felted wool coat.

  The wolf lifts his head and looks into my eyes. He whimpers and strains against Kai’s arms.

  “He seems interested in you.” Kai checks me over for the first time. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I know you, miss.” His eyes narrow. “And I know everyone in this town.”

  “I’m just passing through.” I turn my head to avoid Kai’s direct gaze. “What should we do with him, do you think? The pup, I mean. It seems a pity to leave him here on his own.”

  “Well, I’d take him home, but my father would have my hide.” Kai strokes the pup’s head. “We’ve a few sheep, you know, and chickens. Our dogs would probably try to kill it, anyway. They’re pretty territorial—don’t like other dogs about, and as for a wolf …”

  “Yes, that might be a problem.” I move a little closer to Kai. “I may be able to help.”

  “How’s that?” Kai’s voice radiates suspicion.

  “I have a sleigh. Rather fast, and quite capable of crossing the fields beyond the village. If you came with me—you and the wolf pup, I mean—I could take you somewhere he’d be safe.”

  “On his own? This little guy?” Kai clutches the pup tighter. “I don’t think he’d survive out in the wild.”

  I close my eyes for a moment, calling upon my reserves of magic. “I know where there’s a pack that might take him in. High up in the mountains.” I push back my hood and stare directly into Kai’s eyes.

  He gasps, almost dropping the pup. The wolf barks and nips at the air.

  “Who are you?” Kai’s eyes are glazed.

  I sigh. So it is with every human who looks upon my face when I wield my magic. They forget what they’re doing and where they are. Some even forget who they are.

  Kai’s not so weak-minded. “Do you really know the whereabouts of a wolf pack?”

  “Yes, I do.” I lay my gloved fingers on his heavily padded arm.

  He shivers. The magic still coursing through my body renders my touch like ice, even through my gloves. “And you can carry us there?”

  “I can.” I slip my hand through the crook of his elbow. “My sleigh’s just over there, behind the mill.” I gesture with my other hand as I lead him from the lake.

  As we reach the ponies the wolf squirms and breaks from Kai’s hold. Leaping to the ground, the pup bounds into the sleigh.

  “You see”—I tighten my grip on Kai’s arm—“he wants to go.” I turn my gaze upon Kai’s face. “And you—you want to come with us.”

  “Yes, I …” Kai rubs at his forehead with his free hand. “I do, I think. But, it doesn’t make sense, really …”

  “You do want to save the pup, don’t you?” I pull off one glove and touch Kai’s face with my bare fingers. The remnants of my magic make his lips tremble and turn blue.

  “Of course.” Kai grabs my hand and drops it as if burned, even through his heavy mittens. He may suffer a touch of frostbite, but I can heal that easily when we reach the palace.

  “Kai! Kai, where are you?” Gerda’s voice shatters the stillness.

  I back away, slumping against the side of the sleigh. Kai’s head swivels at the sound of Gerda’s voice, and I know that he’s lost to me, at least for now.

  “I’m here.” He speaks softly but his next words are louder and firmer. “For some reason, I’m here.” He stares at me as I pull up my hood to shadow my face. “Will you still take him, the pup? Will you find little Luki a home?”

  “Luki?” I fight the sarcasm that threatens to edge my tone.

  “His name. It’s Luki. At least it should be.” Kai smiles. His face has regained its usual color.

  I bite the inside of my cheek in frustration. “Very well, Luki it is. And I shall find him a home, never fear.”

  Gerda calls for Kai once more. He turns from me, following the sound of her voice.

  Not wanting Gerda to see me, I grab the reins and slap them hard against the ponies’ flanks. We speed away as Kai spares me one last glance. He can see nothing, of course, but whiteness. I have conjured a blinding drift of snow in this one small corner of the world, obscuring everything from view.

  I have failed today—a failure that may cost me all my tomorrows. But I won’t allow that to happen. I must design a better plan, that’s all.

  The wolf pup stirs at my feet. I glance down at him, meeting his unblinking gaze. “So—Luki, I suppose you must live with me, at least for a while. I may have a use for you yet.”

  The pup jumps into my lap and I allow him to remain, curled within the folds of my heavy fur cloak. When I shift the reins into one hand and drop my other hand beside me Luki sniffs it, sensing that the freezing power has left my body before licking my bare fingers.

  THE MAGE AND THE MIRROR

  Mael Voss is seldom in the palace. I never know where he goes or why he travels so often. He won’t tell me anything of his life, or of the world beyond these icy walls. It’s one of the reasons that anger burns like hoar frost in my heart. Bound to the cold and snow, I can’t venture beyond northern realms.

  I don’t understand why, but I know Voss chose me when I was a child—I was his property from the moment my parents’ sleigh disappeared beneath that roaring tide of snow. While I grew from a toddler to a young woman there must have been many other girls who tried, and failed, to reassemble his precious mirror. Yet I know that his hand was always on me—his plans and schemes ruled my life. I have never fathomed why I should be so important to him. It is surely not because he feels any affection for me.

  I sigh and roll over in bed, staring at an embroidered bell pull hanging on the far wall. When I was first dragged to this icy fortress I found the tapestry buried in a trunk in one of Voss’s storerooms. It shows a young mother surrounded by her ch
ildren. Her face is alight with love as she watches the children play amidst a verdant garden. All is green and blooming about this happy family. The needlework trees brim with the vivid colors of ripe fruit. I sigh and drape my arm over my eyes.

  When I was orphaned, only one person stepped forward to take me in—Inga Leth, a widow with two children of her own. Most of the villagers marveled that this woman would take on another mouth to feed, and praised her kindness and charity. But I was uneasy as I stood outside the bakery, clutching a soft roll that the baker’s wife had thrust at me.

  Inga was as broad as she was tall, her dark hair pulled tightly up under a white linen cap. Her face was ruddy and her eyes blue as chips of delftware. It should have been a merry face, but I spied shadows in the bright eyes and shivered.

  Inga looked me over as if she were buying a calf at market.

  “Come along then.” She turned and strode off, her boots ringing on the cobbled streets. I scrambled to keep up with her

  Wiping my eyes, I trailed Inga into her small, snug cottage. She brusquely introduced me to her children—a tall boy named Nels who was already too old to spare me any attention and a scrawny girl named Begitte who eyed me with suspicion.

  “You will sleep up there,” said Inga, pointing to the loft. I gazed at the ladder that leaned precariously against the rough wooden beams and burst into tears.

  “Enough of that.” Inga slapped me hard across my backside. “Stop that blubbering or I’ll give you something to cry about.”

  My bouts of weeping did not disappear overnight. But Inga’s threats and well-placed slaps convinced me, over time, to hide my tears. I learned to swallow them until I was safely tucked up in the loft. Far from prying eyes and hard hands, I could draw them up, like water from a well. I’d bury my face in the scratchy folds of my straw-filled mattress and allow the tears to soak the cotton ticking. Silently, of course. It wouldn’t do for anyone in that cottage to hear me.