Heart of the Winterland

by Kristen Kooistra

  “I’m not a fool to risk my life on minor tears. That’s what the captain has you around for. Someone he pays to do his dirty work.” Angel spun on her heel and strode towards the ladder. It was still a loss, but at least I had the last word. As she climbed down, she spared Kileah a glance. The first mate eyed her with cold disdain. The message was clear. She knew she had won. Angel’s charade hadn’t deceived either of them.

  She hurried back to the cabin. Voice waited inside, only coming out from the corner when Angel called.

  “That scheming witch! If we don’t get off this boat soon, I swear I’ll kill her.”

  Voice snapped, “Do not use that word.”

  The tone brought Angel up short, halting her rant. “What word? Kill?”

  “No. Witch. I have a strong dislike for the word. People tend to throw it around without realizing the weight it carries. It is such a dirty word.”

  Angel rolled her eyes. “I think you’ve been stuck down here too long. You’re getting snippy about my choice of words.”

  “Perhaps,” Voice conceded, “but I still do not like the word. Where is Cali?”

  Angel welcomed the change in subject. “Not sure, the captain asked for her while I was busy playing power games with the first mate.”

  The door opened and Cali burst in. “Look!” She held a furry ball to her chest. “This is Boo. Captain Rebol’s cat. Isn’t he beautiful? I get to take care of him. He’s so soft. You should pet him. And look at his little white mittens!”

  “Cali,” Angel said.

  “Do you know he eats fish? I’ve never had fish—”

  “Cali.”

  “—but Cook says people eat fish too. Do you want to hold him?”

  “CALI!” Angel’s call finally broke through Cali’s rambling. “Sit down before you faint. I’d love to pet Boo.” She smiled, hoping it softened her words.

  The two sat on the edge of the bunk, petting the scruffy animal who Cali seemed to think the pinnacle of cat perfection.

  “What’s the deal with you and Kileah?” Cali burst out.

  Angel’s lip curled and she shrugged. “She just rubs me wrong. She’s so commanding and rude.”

  She looked up in time to see Cali bite her lip and duck her head. Oh great, now she’s the one laughing at me.

  “What!?” she asked, harsher than she meant to.

  Cali’s shoulders shook. “Oh nothing.” She quick pressed her lips together. “Voice, could you tell us more about Amee? I feel as if we rarely have time to discuss Trabor’s past. Ironic considering all we had for two-hundred years was time.”

  “I could use the distraction too,” Angel added, letting Cali duck out of her questioning.

  “And I could use something to do.” Voice’s glow flickered from white to a soothing yellow.

  Before Angel could ruminate on the meaning of that, Voice launched into her tale.

  Chapter 21

  A grey cube with symbols carved on the sides flew through the air, hitting a branch and nicking the bark. Assorted odds and ends followed, piling up on the floor of the tree house.

  “Where is it!”

  Amee’s throws grew wilder from her crouched position on the floor. She was sure she had left that mirror somewhere. She started flinging things with barely a glance. Her hand closed around a silver box and without hesitation, she tossed it over her shoulder. The instant it left her hand she realized what it was.

  She spun and threw her hand palm up towards the box. “Ho’opau!” It stopped and wavered in the air. She rose from her crouch and closed the lid of the ornate wooden trunk she’d been riffling through. Quick steps brought her to where the tiny box hovered. She snatched it and walked towards the door that led outside.

  The porch that wrapped around the house gave her an excellent view of the field and the forest surrounding it. Pastel flowers bloomed below with an urgency that only a country which spent most of its time covered in snow could bring. She hated summer. It reminded her of Falan. Bright and sunny. If it was up to her, it would always be winter.

  Her lips curved upwards slightly. “Now there’s a thought. Wouldn’t that mess with their perfect lives?”

  The box’s engraved surface pressed against her palm, reminding her of its presence. With a gentle touch, she ran her fingers across the swirls that marked it. The marks glowed a rosy hue and the box clicked open. Inside lay a plain, silver ring. She carefully upended the container, dumping the ring into her palm.

  Pinching it between her thumb and forefinger, she held it up to the fading light of the sun. She drew strands of power from her core and wove them into the words of the spell. “Ena a holke avu mea hana zife.”

  She released the ring and it hovered in the air, glowing and expanding until it stood to half her height and spanned the width of one of her arms. Through the center she could see the forest, but within a few seconds, it began to glass over, forming a reflective surface.

  She hesitated, staring at the face she rarely saw. Her parents had been too poor to own such luxuries as mirrors. Even after getting in touch with her magic, she had not seen the point of staring at herself. Such things were for vain palace folk and those who wished to be like them.

  Nonetheless, the sight shocked her. Dark locks tumbled down her shoulders, framing a pale moon face and chocolate brown eyes. Before she had time to take in her reflection in a real mirror for the first time, the image dissolved into a distorted blur.

  The blur solidified into a vision of a young woman shrouded in shadow fleeing down a corridor holding a babe. The ring shone a deep red to indicate the past. The scene darkened, then brightened, now showing a celebration at the palace—the princess’s party. She did not need the green light of the ring to know it was the present.

  Again the image shifted and this time a cluttered room appeared. The ring glowed a steady blue. The future. The scene didn’t change again. This was what she was meant to see.

  The mirror ring was a convenient object, though the magic required to use it was so great she had never used it before.

  When the old keeper of the book died, she had wandered the forest until she stumbled upon a stone hut. It had not seemed like much, but upon closer inspection she had found a passage leading below. The tunnel opened into a cavernous room filled with various books, artifacts, and other treasures.

  Vellum crumbling with age held vestiges of handwritten entries. The last entry stated the writer’s intent on using an ancient spell to free himself from his mortal form.

  It had taken her years, but she was able to move the wealth of knowledge and power to her tree home. The book identified some objects, others required magical spells of discovery to learn, and others still held their secrets from her. The book had spoken of the ring and she had kept it close at hand. And now it was needed.

  Yes, blue for a future event. One that took place in a location she knew not. She studied the images playing out before her. A room full of kettles, shelves, bottles of liquids, chests, herbs hanging from the ceiling, mortars and pestles, and glass containers holding animal parts. A potion room.

  Two women entered. A sickly-looking Raina and . . . Amee jolted and stepped backwards. It could not be. She grasped the edges of the ring and stared at the second figure, a raven-haired woman whose bearing radiated power.

  Her shoulders slumped in relief. It was not her. For just a moment—a brief second—she had thought the second woman was her.

  “Fool,” she muttered to herself. “Why would you be anywhere near that harpy unless it was to kill her?”

  Upon further study, she saw that the second woman did not look that much like her. Yes, there were similarities, more than she had seen in any other person, but they were not identical.

  The woman’s hair had green lowlights running through it, so dark they were barely discernible amidst the black. Her skin, though pale like Amee’s, had a hint of light green to it.

  Refocusing her thoughts on the scene, she watched the two women gather i
ngredients. She slid her fingers along the edge of the ring, finding a tiny indentation. She pushed it and voices filled the air.

  “Would you drop that hideous glamour?” the dark-haired one said irritably. “I do not know what ghastly creatures live in that kingdom of yours, but if I have to stare at you, look like a proper Sjadian.”

  “As you keep reminding me, Mother, I am not Sjadian anymore.”

  Despite her words, Raina dropped the glamour.

  Amee gave a muted gasp, not wanting to miss anything yet unable to comprehend the change. Gone was the blond hair and blue eyes. In their place, stark against Raina’s pallid skin, were brown eyes and limp, midnight black hair.

  Amee’s mind swirled. Both Raina and her mother looked like her—foreign. Of course, she’d had a hunch she was foreign, so why the idea of a country full of people that looked like her hadn’t occurred before was beyond her. Now that she thought about it, it made all the sense in the world.

  The one Raina called “Mother” began snatching bottles filled with various substances, some Amee recognized, others she did not.

  “Why, darling,” the mother’s voice dripped with false concern. “You look positively horrendous. Letting yourself go now that you’re among savages?”

  “Your thoughts for my health are touching, Mother. It wasn’t easy getting here, not by the methods I had to use. My looks will return.”

  Obviously the two, regardless of their relationship, were not on friendly terms. But now Amee could see what the mother had meant. Raina’s face was haggard and dark lines lurked under her eyes. Her hands bordered on skeletal and her frame in general was gaunt, the dress she wore hung off her like an ill-fitting sack.

  Amee had her answer. The glamour hid Raina’s foreign appearance from the Traborians, for obvious reasons. What Amee did not understand was why Raina had chosen Trabor as her kingdom of conquest. Or what was happening in the mirror. A potion of some sort was being made. That much was clear.

  Well, not necessarily a potion. The items were being mixed and heated at different stages and every once in awhile, Raina’s mother would pour the liquid over a grey pebble laying in a bowl.

  “A magical object.” Amee had not meant to speak out loud and the sharpness of her voice made her jump. Magical objects were ordinary items taken by a sorceress, or sorcerer, and imbued with power to hold a spell. That spell could be anything from curing a disease to turning a country fallow.

  The perk to this, of course, being that even those with paltry magic could use the object with the proper instruction. Raina’s magic must be weak if she needed help crafting a magical item. “Strong enough to support a glamour, but not much else.” Good. This would work in Amee’s favor.

  The two women had started talking again. Amee thought about turning the mirror off, but watching was at least something new in her routine.

  Raina asked, “You’re sure this will work?”

  “I said it will.”

  Raina looked dubiously into the bowl. “I suppose this is less work to obtain, or keep, a kingdom than your method.”

  Her mother stiffened. “What do you mean by that?”

  A sad smile crossed Raina’s face. “I’m not as blind as you think. I only mention it because there is one part of your ascension I’ve never understood.”

  Her mother smashed a few berries into a bowl, pulverizing them into a paste.

  Raina tonelessly recited, “My aunt was the Empress of Sjadia and you were set to inherit, since she was childless. Then came a day of great rejoicing for the empress had a child. A daughter. An heir to the throne.”

  The berry juice splattered up and speckled her mother’s face. Raina continued in her emotionless tone. “A few months after the baby was born, fire came to the palace. Tragically your sister and her husband died. Rumors abounded that the child survived thanks to her nurse. If it was true, she was never found . . . at least not alive.”

  Raina’s mother threw down the pestle, giving the berries a much needed break. “What are you insinuating? Please, you think the people of this country would allow me to rule if I’d had the previous rulers assassinated?”

  “Really, mother, we should be past these silly lies. I know you well enough to believe you had my aunt and her family killed. What I want to know is how you got away with it.”

  Her mother stomped to a corner where a basket of pink blossoms sat. She grabbed a couple and added them to a boiling pot of silver liquid. “I was a privileged and wealthy member of the imperial family. Why would I stoop to such a level?”

  She paused, a cruel smile on her lips. “Now your father, on the other hand . . . Clearly he was power-mad. Concealing his lack of magical talent so he could marry me, the Sjadian heir. How disappointed he must have been at my dear sister’s good fortune, to find he’d been bumped back a spot.”

  The expressionless look vacated Raina’s face, leaving in its wake cold shock. “He was your scapegoat,” the whisper slipped from her lips. “He took the fall and you disposed of your weak husband and those blocking your way . . .” The blank mask dropped back over her visage. “Is the item ready?”

  Raina’s mother poured the silver liquid over the pebble, chanting a spell Amee did not recognize. When she finished, she used a pair of wooden sticks to lift the stone from its place and drop it into a velvet drawstring bag.

  “You will find that some things are better left buried, daughter.” She handed the bag to Raina.

  Raina hesitated as she turned to leave. “Did the child escape?”

  Lips pressed tight, her mother stiffened. “Yes. She was traced to the sea and from there I assume her nurse took her out of the kingdom. As long as she does not return, I do not care what happens to her.”

  “How do you know she’s not still here?”

  The cold smile returned to the mother’s face. “I’ve had spies in every port from the beginning keeping an eye out for a child, now a woman, with violet eyes. A rarity that would cause her to be noticed if she ever stepped foot on Sjadian soil.”

  “Lawa!” The scene in the ring faded to be replaced by the reflective, glass-like view. Whatever was going on with Raina and her mother was of little import. Amee had what she needed.

  She frowned and studied her reflection. Maybe it was because of the discovery of people like her, physically, but she couldn’t seem to stop staring at herself. And the longer she stared, the more something felt . . . Ah, there it was.

  Amee tugged at the strands of magic, sharpening her vision and feeling for the lines of power. Yes, someone had woven a complex spell over her and hidden the signs of magic. Almost. Even she, trained to see the workings of power, had almost missed it.

  It took several long minutes of carefully unweaving the spell, but at last it was done. She looked again into the mirror. Her heart lurched. Everything was the same . . . except. She grasped the base of the ring. Immediately the center of it changed to show the forest beyond and the ring rapidly shrank down to its original size.

  She shoved the ring into its box and stuffed it back into the chest. Nonsense born of too much listening. That is all it was. Silliness. Thinking that spell had been masking her eye color. People did not have purple eyes and she was no exception.

  “I have my revenge to plot and I cannot be distracted by eyes of unnatural coloring and a country called Sjadia.”

  She strode back to the deck and reached her arms towards the heavens. First things first. Trabor, all of it, needed to know it was powerless.

  “Han! Mav loa hovlo!” Clouds formed overhead, dark against the colors of the setting sun. Thunder rolled as the mass of grey spread until it stretched far beyond Amee’s sight. A chill crept into the air. And then, falling from the sky and drifting down as if they were supposed to be there, were hundreds, thousands, millions of snowflakes.

  Amee laughed, her breath fogging the air. Yes, winter was here and here to stay. No more summer. Not until her revenge was complete. No one would be able to deny her presence. When he
r vengeance was wrought, all would secretly rejoice, as the deaths of the royal family would bring back summer.

  Tomorrow she would ride out and test the borders. If all was as it should be, they would now be impenetrable. No escaping Trabor and its miseries.

  “So it begins.” She turned and walked into the warmth of her house, commanding the walls to seal out the cold.

  Chapter 22

  The ship lilted to the side and tossed Cali into Angel’s lap. A low rumble filled the cabin as the two disentangled themselves.

  Angel got to her feet first. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “What was that?” Cali followed Angel to the porthole.

  “See for yourself.” Angel drew back the thin curtain. Outside the sky roiled with putrid clouds the color of overripe plums. Streaks of lightning laced the backdrop, illuminating the waves that churned around the ship. The waves grew choppier and the swells rose higher with each passing second.

  Cali’s dry whisper could barely be heard over the thunder. “Are we going to die?”

  Angel snorted. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. It’s just a storm.” She dropped the curtain, concealing the view, though not the sound. “Storms are a way of life on the sea.”

  The words did nothing to ease Cali’s fear. If the look on Angel’s face, belying her statement, hadn’t caused her concern, the thought of what had happened to Caran would have.

  I wonder if Rose is alright. She’s probably safer at home than I am out here.

  “There’s nothing to be done about the weather. We best stay here and out of the crew’s way.” Voice’s reassurance drew Cali and Angel back to the bunk.

  “Voice, I’ve been wondering.” Cali wrapped the thin cover over her shoulders and leaned against Angel. “How do you know all of this stuff?”

  “Without magic, no one can change the weather. And I would imagine the crew knows what to do in this situation and that we would be in the way.”