7 Folds of Winter

by Carolyn McCray

  The old woman collapsed back down, each breath now a struggle. Emotions warred on Miss Emmert’s face, but Mr. Skelt tugged at her sleeve and guided her towards the door. Ornery followed.

  The man whispered, “It is her life, Sele. Do her the honor of allowing her to make this final decision.”

  “Have you both gone mad? She is dying, Holt. Are you willing to just let her slip away?”

  “No, but neither am I going to force her to go against every value she embodies.”

  Miss Emmert looked ready to shout, but she kept her voice low. “Then perform the Rite. That damn bat has been sucking the life out of her for all these years — let him give some back!”

  “Sele, I know you resent Fright’s bond with Mother—”

  “I resent him living on, while my mother dies! He has the power to, at the very least, slow her decline. If he is as noble a spirit as you both say, he would gladly give her that gift.”

  “They would both need to agree to —”

  Miss Emmert’s voice reduced to a hiss. “Then make them!”

  Ornery jumped as a rooster crowed somewhere off in the distance.

  Mr. Skelt hugged his sister. “Dawn is fast approaching. If you plan to leave, you will need the cover of dark.” Miss Emmert turned, but Mr. Skelt held her arm. “You don’t want to leave it like this, do you, sister?”

  Ornery watched as tears sprang to his mentor’s eyes. Her hands even shook as Mr. Skelt kept talking.

  “Find the words, Sele. For once, speak with your heart to her.”

  Miss Emmert’s shoulders braced as if she had just been struck. Ornery was not sure if she wanted to cry or shout. He was not even sure if the woman knew herself. After a few heartbeats, she placed a hand upon Ornery’s shoulder and looked as if his caretaker wanted to say something, but Mr. Skelt gently removed her hand and placed a comforting arm around Ornery’s shoulder.

  “Go, Sele. There is time to explain it later.”

  Choking on tears, Miss Emmert nodded and slowly walked over to her mother’s deathbed. Madame Hesper could barely open her eyes as Miss Emmert knelt beside the mattress.

  “Mother, Holt is going to speak with Fright about the Rite —” The old woman tried to interrupt, but Miss Emmert put a quivering finger to her mother’s lips. “Shh... Mother, please hear me out.” Miss Emmert waited until the old woman nodded, then continued. “I respect that this decision is yours and Fright’s. I will honor whatever you two decide, but —”

  Miss Emmert had to stop, tears streamed down her face and her throat clenched down with so much sorrow.

  “But... but... maybe I am being selfish. I need you, Ma. You, of all people, know what lies ahead. I don’t think... I don’t think I have it in me to grieve for you and walk the path that is unfolding.” A cascade of tears tumbled down Miss Emmert’s face and fell upon her mother’s cheeks. There, mother and daughter’s tears mixed and swirled. “I need your love and guidance, Ma. It is your light that has always illuminated the darkness. I cannot lose that now, just as the black—” Miss Emmert could not continue and collapsed into her mother’s embrace.

  “I know, I know...” Madame Hesper cooed to her daughter, over and over again.

  Mr. Skelt guided Ornery to the bedside and helped Miss Emmert up. “It’s time to say good-bye, Ornery.”

  With great hesitation, Ornery approached the old woman. Her face was so ashen that if it wasn’t for the harsh rasp of her breath, he might have thought her dead. But after a moment, Madame Hesper eyes fluttered open. “Come closer, child.”

  Ornery leaned forward and was surprised when her wrinkled hands held his head. Gently, she pulled him down until the old women’s lips touched his forehead. Her kiss was like a spark, all tingly and warm. Madame Hesper’s hands fell away as she spoke.

  “Aquilum forenstal tatalk tatalk, misetidae.”

  Ornery felt a lifting and tugging towards the door. If given the chance, the boy felt like he could run to the furthest corners of the world. He turned to find Miss Emmert again crying, but this time with a look of wonder and hope. Even Mr. Skelt’s eyes were moist.

  “It’s best we go now,” Miss Emmert choked out.

  Filled with love and delight, the boy rushed forward and gave Madame Hesper a kiss on the cheek.

  “Thank you,” he whispered to her sleeping ear. Ornery knew not exactly what for, but he knew that he owed her deeply.

  ***

  Traven knew the Giants were speaking, he could see their lips move, but for the life of him, he could not understand a word they said. During the ceremony, they had mumbled foreign tongues, only to have their monotones punctuated by shrill counterpoints sung by the womenfolk. Each female was as tiny and petite as Glacial.

  At another time, the Hero’s mind might have raced at this strange dichotomy between the hulking men and their fragile mates, but nothing penetrated Traven’s thick skull. There were a hundred questions that begged to be asked, but his mouth was frozen.

  Casting his gaze at Pale, the Hero realized the wolf was still no help. Curled up asleep, Traven’s new bond-mate dreamt only of a hunt long ago through a brook and over a meadow. Even Grave only smiled, as if Traven should be thrilled by this latest turn of events. The Hero was sure this ceremony was some kind of high honor, deemed only for the Hope, but what were they thinking?

  Traven turned a cautious eye to “The Bride.” Certainly, she was beauty incarnate. Her skin alone made him want to reach out and stroke her ivory cheek. Even in this oppressive heat, her complexion was clear and without a trace of perspiration. Unlike Traven, her blue silk clung to her figure because of the cut, not due to the sweat gluing the fabric to the Hero’s back. The girl’s gown was a marvel all unto itself. It allowed a peek at just the right amount of curves but hid enough so that one desired to see more. No man could wish for a more desirable mate — but marriage?

  The thought was absolutely absurd to Traven, but here he was in some sort of binding ceremony. The Hero still was not sure if this was a betrothal or marriage ritual that he was participating in. Traven had hoped amongst all the droning passages that he might speak, but each one of the Chieftains had risen and recited some ancient text.

  The Giants could not have actually married the two of them without Glacial and Traven saying vows, could they? Panic began to rise. Traven had best speak up now, or he might never have another chance. With all the magick swirling about him the past few days, Traven could not take any risks that this ceremony might truly be until death torn them asunder.

  Waiting for the latest Giant Chieftain to inhale, Traven jumped in before the man could begin another passage.

  “Great Leaders, I...”

  Traven sputtered and stopped. All eyes had turned on him like a brown hare in the dead of winter. The look of shock and anger mixed on each of the Giants’ faces. Obviously, it was an enormous breach of etiquette to speak out of turn, but Traven had already done the damage. The Hero might as well say his piece.

  “I am honored at your... your offer, but sadly, I must decline.”

  The room boomed with the sound of a dozen Giants jumping to their feet, demanding an explanation. Even Pale hopped up and slunk over to Traven with his tail between his legs. The only one to keep his composure was Grave.

  “Explain, Hero.”

  “I.” Traven could not think of any good reason besides the fact that he simply did not want this woman, so he lied, “I am engaged elsewhere...”

  Concern crossed the Giant’s face. “But we spoke.” Grave’s voice took on a more formal tone. “You indicated on our voyage here that no duty interfered with our Calling.”

  Traven thought, but did not say, Of course, that was when it involved ascending to the Hope. The Hero would have answered very differently if he had known his Calling involved marriage. But how to explain this to the Giants without losing his life? Several of the Chieftains gripped their weapons ominously.

  “I mean no disrespect, but I can’t.” Traven found himself f
lailing for the right words. What had Granny always said? Speak from your heart? The truth has the shortest path between the known and unknown? “I’m sorry, but I cannot marry Glacial.”

  Traven had expected much, but not the backhanded slap Glacial gave him. His cheek stung where the princess had lashed out. The Hero could not blame her. No doubt she never expected rejection such as this.

  “I’m sorry —”

  The Giant tried to interrupt, “Hero, I believe —”

  “No, Grave. Please. I simply cannot marry —”

  Again Glacial slapped him hard across the face. This was becoming tiresome. When she raised her hand again, Traven caught the slender wrist and held it still. A collective gasp escaped the crowd. Several of the Chieftains raised their weapons, fury playing across their faces. Even Grave seemed shaken.

  “I will take much from a woman, Glacial, but not your spite,” Traven said as he released her hand. Her porcelain skin flushed red, and anger turned the corners of her lips downward.

  Grave stepped forward and began speaking, “Chieftains, this is but a misunderstanding…”

  “He will understand this!” Glacial’s father shouted as he heaved an ax above his head.

  Both Grave and Pale stepped in front of Traven. “Please, I beseech you! Listen! The Hero means no dishonor.”

  “Speak to the heart of the matter, Grave. None of your other-land speeches,” Glacial’s father boomed.

  Grave moved to the fore of the stage. He gave a single glance back to Traven. Every Giant in the chamber was now armed and hefted their razor-sharp weapons at Traven.

  “This Hero... his world did not prepare him as we have our offspring. He thought... Traven thought we meant him to wed the Ice Princess.”

  For a moment a heavy silence laid over the room, snuffing out even the sounds of the cooking fire. Then a tiny laugh tinkered from the back of the room. Soon, more followed, until even the Chieftains were having a good belly laugh — all except Glacial’s father.

  “Glacial, is this what affronted you?”

  The Ice Princess bowed her noble head. “Yes, Father. I thought him intentionally insulting my virtue.”

  “Were you, Hero? Did you truly think yourself worthy of a Giant’s dowry?”

  Traven stammered for a moment, but Grave jumped in before Traven could embarrass himself further.

  “In his world, marriage to a Hero is a great honor —” Grave stopped as laughter rolled through the room again. Traven was so glad he could provide entertainment as well as his other heroic duties. Grave continued. “If anyone is to blame for this misunderstanding, it is I. I knew him to be...” Grave gave Traven an apologetic look. “I knew him lacking in... education, but I assumed he knew of our Need and of the task at hand. It was my error that brought dishonor to the Ice Princess. I offer my life in apology.”

  Traven was about to rush forward and take responsibility, but Pale gave him a hard nip in the arse. An image from the wolf urged Traven to imitate a statue. Upon Pale’s insistence, Traven planted his feet and did not move. Glacial’s father sat back down with a thud. His dour look lasted another heartbeat, and then a smile broke out, and he clapped his hands again.

  “Let the feast begin!”

  For a moment, Traven could hardly believe the danger was past. Women laden with trays overflowing with food began circulating amongst the tables. Glacial gave Traven one last icy look, then retreated back behind the curtain.

  Grave grabbed him by the elbow, maneuvering Traven down the steps and out of the hall. Once out of earshot, Grave turned on his enormous heel and nearly knocked Traven over.

  “Why did you not ask about the ceremony if you were so... so...”

  “Uneducated?”

  “Aye!”

  Traven was loath to disclose the reason. In retrospect he had been so arrogant — so very sure of himself. It was hard to admit how wrong he had been, but Grave had just risked his life and deserved an answer.

  “I thought... I thought you were crowning me The Hope.”

  Grave stood, stunned for a moment, then even he had to chuckle. “Oh, it’s a good thing you did not reveal that in the chamber!” Grave slapped his thigh, and the sound nearly deafened Traven. “They would not have been able to eat their meal through their mirth!”

  Once again, Traven was so glad to be of amusement to another. The Hero could not keep the annoyance from his voice. “What is your Need, then? This task?”

  “You are to escort the Ice Princess to the Winter Citadel. There, she is to wed the Winter King.”

  “What?”

  “We believe the King lost his will after his beloved, the Winter Queen, succumbed to the bite of the Serpent. The Ice Princess will bring order to his Court.”

  “The murder of the Winter Queen is a myth —”

  “As were White Wolves and Giants but a few days ago. Were they not?”

  Traven could not argue that point. As a matter of fact, Traven could not argue any point, he was so far beyond his schooling. But he could ask questions.

  “Why me?”

  “Hero, are you truly that naive?”

  Hanging his head, Traven admitted this hard truth, “Yes.”

  Grave patted Traven on the back, “You, my friend, are The Man Who Did Not Know.”

  *****

  CHAPTER 16

  Ornery accepted the wagon’s reins from Miss Emmert as they exited the barn. It took a moment for Ornery’s eyes to adjust to the dim light. The full moon was high overhead, but the streets were darkened by the surrounding buildings. With the slightest urging, Nutmeg and Cinnamon bolted forward, gliding the wagon over the sludgy snow. The windows passed by so quickly that the details blurred.

  “Miss Emmert!” Ornery called out, fearful his cousin’s unnatural speed would attract attention.

  “Shh,” she answered harshly enough that Ornery turned to look at his caretaker.

  Cradled in her palms was a stone of incredible beauty. Golden light streamed forth, causing her hands to glow with a metallic sheen. Ornery could not believe that this was the same dull necklace he had seen every day of his life. Often he had wondered, sometimes out loud, why she kept such a decrepit old piece of jewelry. The stone was normally the most boring of yellows. It was set in a tangle of silver long-ago tarnished past the point of fashion.

  Embarrassed that he had chided her so, Ornery tried to apologize, but Miss Emmert was far beyond listening, engrossed in her murmured chant. With every syllable, the gem pulsed a bit brighter until Ornery was certain that the guards at the far wall would spot their glow. In what seemed like a heartbeat, their wagon was fast approaching the northern gate.

  Ornery nearly yelled as a pair of sentries rounded the corner, swords drawn. They seemed to be headed right into a fight, but somehow the guards only cocked their heads, as if hearing the horses approach, but were unable to see the wagon. Without hesitation, the horses galloped forward, knocking the men back into the alleyway. A shout of alarm echoed off the closely packed buildings, but no one gave chase. At a speed Miss Emmert normally would have considered reckless, their wagon careened towards the solidly barred gate.

  “Should I try to —”

  Miss Emmert hissed in a language Ornery could not understand and shook her head violently. Clutching the reins, Ornery prepared for the impact, but he need not have worried. Standing to her full height, Miss Emmert’s arms flung wide open. A string of piercing notes flew from her mouth, blasting the gate with such force that the solid oak doors were blown from their hinges. Never missing a stride, Nutmeg and Cinnamon pulled the wagon through the gate and beyond the city walls.

  Ornery let out a breath, too long held. Miss Emmert, however, simply sat down and gave a grim smile.

  “Old, even ‘tawdry’ things sometimes have their advantages, young man,” she said, indicating to the once again dull necklace.

  Cheeks reddening, Ornery resolved never to doubt Miss Emmert’s judgment again. “I’m sorry, Miss —”

&n
bsp; With a dismissive wave of her hand, the woman took the reins back, only to drape them over the sideboard, giving the horses their heads. Before Ornery could argue, Miss Emmert tilted his face to the side and examined his forehead.

  “Do you feel all right?”

  Wanting to avoid the whole subject of feelings, Ornery answered, “Uh-huh. How long until we get to the Fold?”

  Miss Emmert snorted in a very unladylike manner. “We’ll be to the lower Steppes in a few days.”

  “But you told Madame Hesper we would go to the Fold.”

  “What my mother is unaware of will do her no harm.”

  Ornery could not believe Miss Emmert was being so disrespectful of her own mother. “But you—”

  “Ornery, there are times when one must make decisions for themselves — sometimes against the best wishes of your caretakers. I think you have some experience with that.”

  Blushing, Ornery acutely remembered his nighttime wanderings out to the taverns and pubs. Not so long ago, he had even seriously considered running away. Who was he to judge Miss Emmert? Besides, Ornery had to agree that Madame Hesper did not seem to have all her faculties.

  “What did your mother mean? You know when she...”

  “Aquilum forenstal tatalk tatalk, misetidae? It is the most cherished of all Centaur blessings. Normally, an Elder of the Meadows confers it, but in these times... Mother has her reasons...”

  For a moment, sadness settled over Miss Emmert, but just as quickly, she shook off her melancholy and rubbed at the skin on his forehead. “Did it burn where she kissed you?”

  Ornery tried to pull away. He wanted to hear more about the blessing. “Tingled, really.”

  “Do you feel any... different?”

  Shy to reveal his strange yearnings, Ornery shook his head, but Miss Emmert eyed him knowingly. “No?”