The color left her ruddy cheeks for a moment, and she backed away.
“I need that map.”
Glacial was uncommonly subdued as she pulled out a small necklace in the shape of a heart. Within it was a tiny piece of parchment. With eyes downcast, the Princess handed over the sacred relic to Traven. He could not believe what he found. The drawing was of the crudest sort. It did not even have the four points of the compass to use as a guide. The map was worse than useless.
“You have been directing us from this?” Traven asked, amazement still thick in his voice.
“Aye. I was told it would lead me to my husband.”
“Glacial, how could you—” Traven had to regain his tongue. “You must have known that following this was hopeless. Why did you not show this to me from the start?”
For once Glacial seemed contrite. Her voice shook a bit, and if Traven hadn’t known better, he’d thought she sounded apologetic.
“I had never seen a map before. The sages spoke with such reverence for the thing, I thought it foolproof —” The Princess stopped when she realized the unintentional pun in her words. “I was... I was embarrassed to say that I did not know how to read it.”
How Traven wanted to light into the Giant. How badly he wished to take this opportunity to scold the woman who had made his life hell since he met her, but somehow he could not. Glacial had never looked so lovely as in this moment of confession. Her vulnerability shielded her a thousand times more fully than her rigid aggression ever could.
His anger bled out, Traven sighed. “You should not have been ashamed. This parchment is unreadable. There are no directions, and even the schematic makes no sense.”
The Princess raised her eyelids and looked at Traven from the corner of her eye. It was obvious she had expected a berating. “Then we are truly lost?”
Traven folded the parchment again and handed it back to Glacial. “Aye. Our best hope is that Pale might be able to sniff us out a trail.”
Pale sent a forceful image informing Traven of exactly how angry he still was at the Princess. The wolf was unimpressed by her embarrassment. Pale was already tired of dried venison. He wished to hunt again and was quite peeved at Glacial for delaying his pleasure. Traven sent back an equally powerful picture of the Craven Creepers and reminded the wolf of their true mission here.
Flicking his tail, Pale abruptly cut off the sending. The wolf did not seem any too fond of goals. Traven felt slightly ill at ease as Pale rounded a corner without him. He did not like the group being split up.
“Glacial, follow tight behind me.”
For once the Princess obeyed wordlessly, using only a polite nod to answer him. Lauger’s nostrils flared as they progressed down the side tunnel. The walls were even more cramped and pressed down upon them. Pale sent a strong sending of discovery. It was as if Traven himself could smell the aroma of sweat and blood. A feeble light began illuminating the hallway. Perhaps there was a second chamber like the one they had paused at. He sent a warning of caution, but Pale had already slowed.
Sword drawn, Traven followed the wolf cautiously around the corner. Still connected to Pale, Traven was almost overwhelmed by the barrage of smells and sights. Stumbling backwards, Traven tried to push Glacial back before she could enter, but the tiny woman slipped under his arm. Her cry of shock echoed off the large chamber. Nauseated, Traven urged her back into the dark tunnel.
“What. What was that?” Glacial asked, her words aflutter.
Traven could not answer, his mind was so consumed with his own concerns. Could their plight get any worse? No, he would not ask that of himself, for lately Fate had been only too happy to oblige him with the answer.
The princess jerked his sleeve, causing him to turn to her. “What was that?”
How could he tell her the truth? How could he not?
“It’s a lair.”
“All those bones. And those bodies...” Glacial could not finish her statement.
Which was probably best anyway. There was no adequate way to describe the carnage in that chamber. Something brutal and inhuman had littered that place. Even Pale’s stomach was turned by the sight. Out of all the labyrinths, how could they have found their way here?
“But whose lair?”
The words had to be forced from Traven’s lips. “The Craven Creepers’.”
***
Crystalia tried to rest. She really did, but each time she closed her eyes, her palm burned and begged to be checked. And each time she checked, Traven was farther away. How could Miss Emmert expect her to sleep when every fiber of her being cried to head north instead of east?
But east is where they headed. Crystalia watched as Miss Emmert sewed upon a napkin. It seemed everyone she had met since leaving Last Hitch was strange, to say the least.
From what Crystalia could gather, Madame Hesper’s daughter was married to a horse not unlike the ones pulling the wagon, while the odd boy was some sort of hybrid. It gave Crystalia the shivers, but they had been nothing but kind and helpful. There was much she did not understand, and it was becoming apparent that Crystalia had best learn much of it if she wished to survive her quest.
Scooting over, she asked Miss Emmert about her craft. “What are you sewing?”
“It’s an enslavement lash. We might need one at the Pass.”
Crystalia stayed quiet for a moment. She had no idea what such a tie might do or how it could be used. It might be important to know, but Crystalia did not feel she was ready for that type of knowledge quite yet. Still, she needed to be of some use to the woman who saved her life.
“Can I help in any way?”
“Nay, child. I need you rested. It would not do to present The Man with a rumpled Snowy Maiden.”
Smoothing out her blue silk, Crystalia smiled shyly. Miss Emmert understood her completely.
Ornery burst in from the front of the wagon. “The horses have slowed and refuse to pick up speed.”
“We must be nearing the Polar Span,” Miss Emmert said as she passed the sewing to Crystalia. “Here. Can you work on this while I tend the horses?”
Crystalia nearly dropped the material. Who was she to work such sorcery as an enslavement lash? “Do I chant or try to weave it with my magick?”
“Nay.” Miss Emmert chuckled a bit. “That will come later. All I need you do is embroider some roses for me. Can you do that?”
Nodding, Crystalia picked up the needle and thread. Long ago her mother had taught her the stitches. It was strange to use such a commonplace’s craft in the use of powerful alchemy. But she trusted Miss Emmert and began sewing as Ornery and his mother left to care for the steeds.
Crystalia hummed the tune her mother had taught her many winters ago. It was funny how she could remember the melody. Maybe one day she would teach it to her own daughter. She got goose bumps at the thought. Yes, she would teach everything she knew to the children she and Traven brought into the world.
***
Ornery felt a bit silly asking for Miss Emmert’s help, but he no longer knew how to relate to the horses. Before, he would have given them a bit of the whip and goaded them on, but now even Miss Emmert took their counsel.
Besides the terrain had changed drastically in the last few hours. The Plains had given way to broken hills and banks of snow taller than most buildings.
“Nutmeg can feel rock not too far under the snow pack. The Span cannot be too far off,” Miss Emmert reported after staring intently at the horse.
How he wished he could speak with his cousins in such a way. Why was his mother so gifted, and not him? Before he could ask, they rounded a drift to find an enormous chasm gaping before them. Across this canyon was a narrow bridge of ice. The width of the thing was less than two wagons wide. Now he could see why the horses had slowed to almost a halt. Icicles hung down, some longer than he was tall, from the Span.
“Is it safe?” Ornery asked.
“The Span has withstood the test of time. Some say it stood before
any of the races inhabited the lands.”
He could believe it. The slab of ice had to be dozens of feet thick. Gently, Miss Emmert clucked to the horses. It was obvious they were hesitant to step upon the slick surface. With no more pull than a normal horse, they slowly drew the wagon onto the Span. Loose ice crystals crackled under the wagon’s weight. The noise brought the Snowy Maiden out from the curtain.
“What is that —” The girl stopped short as she scanned the impossible view. They were literally miles above a dark abyss. The moon shone down, lighting the narrow ribbon of ice that they crossed. The sight was nothing short of spectacular.
“Come have a seat.” Miss Emmert patted the bench next to her.
The girl looked flustered but did as was requested, her stitching dangling from a forgotten hand.
“Once across the Span, we will —” Miss Emmert paused and looked like she was going to continue, but then shut her mouth again. “Did either of you hear —”
This time there was no doubt of the sound. Ornery cursed his now-tiny ears. He had not heard the attack coming. From behind them a half dozen creatures beat upon the ground with their crude clubs. Their bodies were covered in white fur but blood stained their mouths and chest.
“Yah!” Miss Emmert called to the horses, and they were more than eager to comply. At first they trotted but quickly they sped into a gallop. The wagon jumped and jostled across the slick surface. Miss Emmert looked again over her shoulder as the beasts grew more bold and gave chase after them. “Damn. The cold must have forced them down from the heights.”
“What. What are they?” Crystalia asked, her eyes wide with fear.
“Yeti. Normally they live far up in the mountains. Things must be desperate for them to wander so far south.”
That was something Ornery did not want to hear. Desperate men, desperate animals were the most dangerous of all. “Can they catch us?”
“I think not, but it might be close getting to the other side.”
Crystalia could not peel her eyes off of the advancing party. “Why aren’t the horses running faster?”
“The footing is slick here. Any faster, and we would risk skidding off the side and down that ravine.”
Gulping, the girl did not argue with Miss Emmert’s logic. Although it was still hard to watch the giant ape-like creatures narrow the gap. In the cold night air, their hungry growls echoed off the rising mountain faces.
“Watch out!” Crystalia screamed.
Suddenly the wagon jolted violently. Miss Emmert barely kept them on course.
“What was that?” Ornery screamed back.
All three of them looked behind the wagon to see the six Yeti converged in a semicircle. Miss Emmert groaned and snapped the reins.
The horses sensed her urgency and immediately picked up the pace, drawing them up and off the Span. Their speed tripled.
“I... I thought we couldn’t risk —”
“We can’t. But nor can we risk the Yeti’s Tribal ring. They need only one more member —”
The wagon again lurched as the Polar Span quaked. Cracks began forming in the smooth ice.
“Do they mean to shatter the bridge?” Crystalia asked, terror plain in her voice.
“Nay. They are simple creatures. They do not understand the composition of the Span. They see only that we escape, and they are using one of their hunting tools.”
“But it is cracking the bridge!” Ornery pointed out, quite unnecessarily.
Miss Emmert nodded. “It is called the Korakal. They shake the ground and throw off their enemy’s pace. In the mountains it can generate an avalanche, killing their victim. They just dig out their prey later.”
“Here, though, they will —”
Miss Emmert cut Ornery off. “They will destroy the span, killing us and themselves.”
The weight of her words silenced both Ornery and Crystalia. Despite the horses’ speed, they still had three-fourths of the Span to go. It seemed an unending distance stretched out before them.
“Should we lighten the load for the horses?” Crystalia asked.
Ornery mentally hit himself. He should have thought of that first! How was this girl ever going to respect him if he could not even keep her safe?
“Nay. What lightness we will achieve will be tiny compared to the risk we throw out something we might desperately need later.”
Ornery took small comfort in Miss Emmert declining Crystalia’s idea. How could they need something more desperately then they were now? Another tremor shook the Span, this time inducing huge fractures in the ice.
Crystalia’s voice was thick with dread. “Another has joined them. They are seven now.”
“Dear gods!” Miss Emmert exclaimed. “Prepare yourselves!”
Ornery had no idea what to prepare for until he was nearly thrown from his seat. Only the tight grip he had on the wagon seat kept him from flying into the chasm. Crystalia was not so lucky. Her hold on the railing was too weak, and she went sailing over the side of the wagon. Without thinking, Ornery threw himself past Miss Emmert and leapt over the buckboard.
The girl had slid across the ice and slipped almost over the edge. She was holding on to the ledge by the narrowest of margins. Using his Centaur-fueled legs, he closed the distance in a single step. Planting his feet firmly in a crevice, Ornery grabbed the maiden’s wrist.
Her nails were dug so deeply into the ice that her fingers bled. Despite her obvious pain, she did not peep a sound of discomfort. Ornery loved her all the more for that. With a heave he brought the top half of her over the edge. Crystalia used her legs and was able to help him lift her completely onto the ice.
Another quake shook the Span to its very core. As the ice beneath them crumbled, Ornery scooped Crystalia up into his arms and ran. He ran faster than he had ever run before. Which was a good thing, since Miss Emmert had not slowed the wagon a whit. She trusted in Ornery’s legs more than he did. Their flight down the icy bridge was slippery and exhausting. Carrying the girl was far harder than Ornery had anticipated.
With each grueling step, they closed in on the wagon. They were so near, but Ornery’s legs complained brutally. With the extra weight, he would not be able to overtake the wagon. There was only one way to try and save them both. Without warning, Ornery spurted forward, just enough to almost touch the wagon’s edge. With a grunt, he flung Crystalia forward. The throw was not pretty, but she sailed through the curtains, and he could hear her thud against the wagon’s floor. She might have broken a bone, but at least she was safe.
Exhausted, Ornery rapidly fell behind. His plan had been to lighten his load and catch back up, but it was rapidly becoming obvious that he did not have the strength nor the endurance. A glance behind showed the Yeti preparing for another blow. With the deep, ragged cracks in the ice, Ornery realized this would be the last strike the Span could endure. Even his feeble efforts to save the Maiden may have been in vain.
The Yeti shouted in victory, then brought their clubs to bear against the ice. The resulting impact knocked Ornery from his feet. Splayed on the ground, Ornery watched the wagon careen towards the edge of the Span. He could do nothing as he watched his mother and love go over the edge.
***
Crystalia screamed so loud that she thought her throat might burst, but still the sound of ice cracking drowned her out. The sound of the ancient bridge giving way filled the world.
“Jump!” Miss Emmert shouted and gave Crystalia a shove. Barely stable on the seat anyway, Crystalia more like fell from the wagon yet again. You could hear the wagon wheels sliding over the edge. The wood creaked and groaned.
Miss Emmert was already up, helping to pull the horses back from the edge, but their leather harnesses held them tight to the falling wagon.
“Grab the ax!” Miss Emmert shouted.
Crystalia would have, if she had known where it was kept. Luckily Ornery rushed up behind her and grabbed the tool from behind the seat. With strong arcing blows, he cut the leads from
the wagon. Crystalia stood stunned at the show of force, but regained her senses and joined Miss Emmert’s efforts.
The horses were near panic. Centaur or not, they could feel the touch of death close. They all could. Around them the ice splintered off and plummeted into the chasm. Even the Yeti had scattered and charged back across the Span.
“Pull!” Miss Emmert yelled as Nutmeg lost her footing and flailed to regain it.
Grabbing at the reins, Crystalia did her best to steady the beast. Cinnamon was freed and surged past her, nearly launching herself over the other side of the Span. Miss Emmert looked into the horse’s wild eyes, and immediately the animal calmed. Crossing back over, Cinnamon took the reins in her mouth and supported her sister. The whole thing would have been quite an amazing event, showing Crystalia the depth of Centaur compassion, if it were not for the sound of fracturing ice.
With one last swing, Ornery cut the last tie that bound Nutmeg to the doomed wagon. In an instant the loaded wagon vanished over the side. Crystalia stepped forward and watched their conveyance plunge into the abyss. Crystalia could not help but remember Miss Emmert’s anxiety over keeping the contents of the wagon. What had they truly lost?
Crystalia’s question was left unasked as Miss Emmert shoved her towards Ornery.
“Mount up with him.”
Even though the ice vibrated beneath her feet, Crystalia objected. “I would rather ride with you.”
“We have no time! Nutmeg cannot take the additional weight. Now mount up.”
Ornery, already astride Cinnamon, snatched Crystalia’s wrist and jerked her onto the horse’s back.
“Hang on to the mane!”
With that warning, he kicked Cinnamon and they flew forward. There was no grace nor precision to their flight. This was a panicked run. Nutmeg’s tail thrashed before them as she tried to keep her footing on the treacherous ice. The unfortunate Yetis behind them now screamed in terror as the Span collapsed in the middle. Huge chunks followed, large enough to create quite a boom from the depths of the canyon.
7 Folds of Winter Page 34