7 Folds of Winter

by Carolyn McCray

  Madame Hesper had to take pause. Everything had occurred so rapidly that she had not time to absorb the full brunt. She hated to admit it, but the Faery’s question was valid. “And what have you deduced?”

  “Winter is not alone in his illness. The other seasons are affected as well.”

  “As a side effect —”

  “What if it is not?”

  Amanda pondered Emerald’s point. Her mind wrapped around the idea as the bandages encircled Ekoli’s midriff. The goddess was now asleep again, eased into rest by some medicinal cider. Her breath was slow and regular. A far sight better than it was at Hanger’s Mansion.

  “Emerald, what is your suspicion?”

  “Winter is the only god visibly infected.” The Faery’s voice was rushed and tight. “I believe a power beyond our scope is trying to wrench the seasons from our grasp.”

  Now, Emerald was being preposterous. “Who would do such a thing? And to what end?”

  The Faery flew backwards from Madame Hesper’s reproachful tone, but her determination was unwavering. “I know not who or why, but I know we must find out the answers to exactly those questions.”

  “And how would you go about this vain quest?”

  Emerald’s dress glittered in a hundred different colors. Her excitement was unbound. “You must visit the Oracle. She is the only one who might have a hint to this scheme.”

  Madame Hesper rocked back onto her heels. “The Oracle? She retreated far from the world, long ago. What makes you think she would speak to me?”

  “I do not. But she could not deny her sister.”

  Amanda had almost forgotten. The Oracle’s half-sibling was Ekoli. But in human form, would the Oracle recognize the relation?

  “It is a good plan. Is it not?” Emerald buzzed with pride. The Faery was unused to having such a hand in matters of the world.

  Madame Hesper wished she could find a dent in Emerald’s design, but the Faery was correct. Even if her theory regarding the other seasons was inaccurate, the Oracle could be of great help in containing the Winter King. It was most annoying when the Faery was right.

  “It is, Emerald. Once recovered, we shall head east.”

  The Faery did a somersault in the air and clapped her hands. Anyone else would have looked gleeful or at play, but even now Emerald had a hard edge to her celebration. “I shall prepare for your departure.”

  Amanda bet she would, but said nothing. There was no point in antagonizing the Faery any further. She bent back down to finish Ekoli’s bandage when the goddess’s eyes fluttered open.

  “It seems I have my uses yet...”

  Madame Hesper patted the weak woman’s arm. “Aye.” It appeared they all did.

  ***

  Traven’s mind refused to obey. He was supposed to be alert and prepared for an attack, but all his memory wanted to do was replay Granny’s horror stories. If his party faced the Craven Creepers, there would be no trickery, no running. This would be a fight of tooth and nail. Before, when he was younger, that would have sounded like heaven.

  Now, with his weapon in hand, Traven rather preferred the method he used against the Shadow Swords. He was beyond caring about his ego. If he could run away from this enemy, then he would do so in an instant.

  Glacial yawned atop Lauger. Once the passageways had widened she consented to riding astride the horse. Since Lauger had saved her life the night before she seemed more comfortable around the horse than Pale. Her noble philosophy had given way to pragmatic concerns. All the better for Traven. It relieved the wolf to act as scout and still keep Glacial off her swollen feet. It might be days before the poor girl could walk comfortably again, and speed was essential on this journey.

  They don’t need to kills ya, they eats ya to death. They likes their meal still moving.

  “Ugh, Granny.” Traven thought. “Stop that.”

  He did not need to remember things such as that. The lair itself would cause nightmares for months.

  Pale sent a warning of the smell of flesh again. Traven agreed another liar most likely lay ahead. They should take another path. Several times Pale had sniffed other beings, but each time they had been able to skirt around them. The wolf chose only passageways with little to no aroma of life. The tunnels they traveled were barren and lifeless. Not even moss or algae grew down here. Traven feared at some point they would need to take the risk and head into the main passages if they hoped to climb up and out of the Catacombs.

  But for now, fresh from the sight of the lair, Traven was content to wander the deserted tunnels. The wolf signaled enthusiasm in the Hero’s mind. There was the smell of damp walls and the bite of frost. They must be near a passage that led to the surface. Traven urged Lauger on and caught up with Pale. On closer sniffing, the wolf found the faintest hint of sweat. The aroma could have been left a minute ago, or days. From this far away, there was no way to be certain. Silently, man and wolf conferred.

  Was it worth the risk? Should they stick out their necks in the hope that there was an escape route? Or was it more dangerous to wander the Labyrinth with sparse supplies until they succumbed to starvation?

  Pale despised the second option. Granted the wolf was loath to enter battle. He would rather feast, but he would not die a shriveled, starved form. Traven did not like that scenario any better. There truly was no simple answer. The decision made, the wolf pulled out in front.

  Stopping every few feet, Pale would raise his paw and lifted his flaring nostrils. Traven could sense the wolf’s apprehension. Because of the tangled pathways and stagnant air, Pale’s usually keen nose was compromised.

  Fresh air was clearly up ahead, but others had recently visited this place. A fire had been extinguished only a day or so ago. Were the Creepers lurking nearby? It was hard to say, since they had only scented the Creepers’ victims, never the Cravens themselves.

  They turned a corner, and the tunnel widened as the ceiling sloped away. Traven was glad. He could finally take a deep breath and not worry about knocking his elbows against a wall. Traven had never been prone to closet sickness, but now he could understand the disease.

  Back at the Mount, one of the last rigors that the Candidates were subjected to was called the Box. Each Candidate was placed in a sealed box and buried beneath the ground for five full days. One had to breathe out of a straw and lick the dew off the walls. The scholars said the exercise was to eliminate those with closet sickness, but Traven just thought them mean-spirited. Half a dozen fine warriors had been culled from their ranks because of this test. Traven had grown to like most of these men and found it absurd they were eliminated from the running simply because they could not tolerate the Box.

  After spending the last few days in the Catacombs, Traven could begin to see the scholars’ wisdom. It would not do to have a Hero unable to survive amongst the narrow tunnels and crevices that sprawled beneath the ground.

  Traven looked more closely at the walls. He recognized this tunnel. Turning suddenly, Traven glanced behind him. This was the passageway they had fled down, escaping the Shadow Swords. Calling Pale over, Traven studied the hallway intently. Had they come around full circle? Had they stumbled back into the Sword’s territory? Pale confirmed his worst fear. This was the Shadow’s dominion. Traven urged Lauger forward with a pat on his flank.

  Can you find the chamber of light again? Traven asked Pale in his mind. The wolf was already sniffing out the cracks in the wall. Soon, Pale announced that the entryway was a few scant yards ahead. Traven was both relieved and upset. He was glad to have found a safe sanctuary again, but they had lost a full day of travel. At this pace they would never see the surface again.

  Pale sent a suggestion. Traven should seek shelter with the princess and allow the wolf to scout ahead. Immediately, Traven rejected the idea. If anyone was going to search the hallways alone, it would be him. Pale gave a growl and nipped at Traven’s leg. The wolf’s frustration was well-founded. This trek would require Pale’s sharp senses. The wolf made
it clear that Traven’s human attributes were nearly useless in the Catacombs. Reluctantly, the Hero agreed. He would follow Pale in his mind and allow the wolf to scout ahead.

  “Where are we going?” Glacial asked as Traven led Lauger forward.

  “We are —” Traven stopped and swung around. Had he heard something? He was certain he caught the sound of nails across the granite. Pale’s ears were also cocked.

  “What —” The Princess fell to silence as Traven signaled her to shush.

  The man and wolf waited, motionless, as the moments ticked by. Pale’s sensitive eyes searched back down the hallway where they had last encountered the Swords. Were their imaginations overactive, or was there something moving in the shadows? Should they douse the torches and run? Lauger snorted and backed up, nearly knocking Traven over.

  “Traven!” Glacial screamed, pointing down the other side of the tunnel.

  Pale spun mid-leap, narrowly escaping a set of sharp teeth. As suddenly as the beast had appeared, it was gone again. Traven turned to face this new threat. Red eyes glinted in the dark hallway as the creatures crawled up and down the walls. The sound of their legs scraping against the stone filled the tunnel.

  Raising his sword, Traven fought back a tide of fear. Their situation could not get much worse. They were trapped between the Shadow Swords behind, and, if Granny was at all correct, these new beasts were the Craven Creepers.

  Traven could not make out the creatures, but he knew from his grandmother’s tales what they looked like. They were akin to spiders, only bigger than most cats. Their plump, shielded body scrambled around on six double-jointed legs. The entire front of their body was a mouth large enough to encase two full sets of teeth. These Creepers needed no weapon fashioned by hand — they were born with their own.

  The Cravens also blocked their path to the geode chamber. Not that the room would provide much safety. These beasts had no such weakness as the Shadow Swords. This was a battle that must be stood and fought. No trickery, no easy ploys. Just teeth-grinding warfare. Traven sent a flash of images containing everything he knew about the Creepers, only to find the wolf already knew of the threat. Pale’s own aunt had taught him the tales long ago.

  “Should... should I go?” Glacial asked as the ruby eyes inched closer.

  Traven wished there was somewhere secure he could send the princess, but they were trapped. All of them. “Nay. Stay atop Lauger. He will protect you.”

  The Creepers became more bold and snuck into the torch’s range. Their bodies were not slick and smooth as Traven had thought. Their shells were cracked and skin hung off of them in patches. The group had spread out over the floor, walls and ceiling. They were closing in for the kill. Traven’s sword was already raised, and his dirk pulled from his belt. The stories had never detailed how one actually killed a Creeper, but Traven assumed it would involve several strong blows to the eyes and mouth.

  In a burst, the Cravens leapt forward, mouths open wide. Lauger reared and kicked a number away from the Princess as Traven fended off half a dozen himself. Pale had the worst of it though. One of the Creepers had gotten a hold of his tail, and the other harassed the wolf horribly. Traven took huge swipes with this sword, but the strokes just seemed to bounce off the beasts’ shells. And they moved so fast that it was impossible to accurately aim for their eyes. The best he could hope for was to keep the Creepers’ teeth away from his flesh.

  The group had succeeded in fending off a few of their attackers, but it was rapidly becoming apparent they were being overrun. If Creepers weren’t launching from a wall, they were dropping from the ceiling. Traven’s clothes were thick with the beasts’ saliva. Stumbling, Traven tripped over a Craven. He heard the snap as the creature’s leg broke under his weight. The Creeper skittered away, visibly limping.

  Rushing forward, Traven stomped on another of the beast’s legs and was satisfied to feel it crumble beneath his boot. The thing was now scampering away. The Hero’s heart soared. He had the beast on the run this time.

  Traven sent Pale his strategy as he turned towards Lauger. The horse already had the instinct and had crippled several of the Creepers. Even hobbled, the creatures kept attacking. He could not hope injuries alone would keep the Creepers to bay. No, they needed to find some way to kill them. Traven ignored the other Cravens that swarmed around him and concentrated on the one that was disabled. With a few stomps he shattered the rest of the creature’s legs. Instead of lying still, the damn thing rolled about the ground, its teeth still grinding ominously.

  Using his sword to pin the beast to one spot, Traven dug his dirk deep into its eye. Black blood spurted from the wound, and the Creeper lay still as Traven gouged out the other eye. But still the beast would not die. Traven raised his sword and skewered the Creeper right through mouth, striking so hard that he felt his blade’s tip strike the earth beneath the beast. A shrill cry escaped the mouth.

  For a moment Traven hoped he was successful as he kicked away the other Creepers, but the creature’s mouth began gaping, and suddenly it was climbing up his sword.

  Traven tried to fling it from his blade, but the beast’s teeth bit hard into the metal and pulled it swiftly up the sword. Turning, Traven began beating the Creeper against the wall. The beating slowed the beast a bit, but still it fought its way to Traven’s hand.

  In the moment before Traven dropped his sword, Pale’s fangs bit deep into the dented shell of the Creeper. Using the creature’s hold on the sword as leverage, the wolf shook the beast violently. An agonizing wail pierced Traven’s ears until Pale tore the Creeper in half. It had not been pretty nor skillful, but a Craven was dead.

  Now that Traven knew it could be done, the Hero set about destroying the creatures with gusto. Together Pale and Traven stomped and chewed their way back to Lauger. Bodies began piling up on the now-slick floor. The horse had his own technique, which seemed equally efficient. Creeper bodies littered the floor around Lauger and the Princess. The remaining beasts backed away from the party, gnashing their teeth in frustration.

  Just when Traven thought the tide had turned, another Creeper dropped from the ceiling, biting as it fell, trying to find purchase on Traven. The Hero danced and spun, but the Creeper finally sunk his teeth into Traven’s calf. Bellowing with rage, Traven knocked the beast off his leg and stomped the creature to death with his own feet. Pain screamed up his calf, but Traven did not stop until there was nothing left but a black, gooey mash on the floor.

  “Traven. They flee!” Glacial said, ashen but excited.

  The Hero let a smile come to his lips. They had beaten the Creepers! And without any help from his dear old Granny. If he were not so tired, pained, and worried about the trip ahead, Traven might have whooped.

  “Oh, no.” The Princess groaned.

  Traven turned to see the glint of metal in the shadows behind him. The Swords. They must have been drawn by the sound of battle and the smell of blood.

  “Go!” Traven yelled as the Shadows writhed in menace. Lauger leapt forward, but Glacial was pulling back hard on the reins.

  “What of the Creepers?”

  “Princess, now!” Traven shouted as one of the Swords took a swipe at him from behind. Pale was already darting ahead. They would just have to hope the Creepers had fled back to their lair. Traven had meant to run alongside the group but his ankle flared with pain. He would not be able to keep the pace.

  “Lauger, to me! Tatchasta.”

  The Hero’s horse obeyed flawlessly as he slowed. Traven grabbed the back of Lauger’s saddle and hauled himself up behind Glacial. The Princess let out a bit of a squeal but did not object.

  Wrapping his arm around her waist, Traven urged Lauger on. Rapidly they outdistanced the ungainly Swords. Pale slowed their pace and sniffed for any sign of the Creepers. Apparently they had taken another passageway in their retreat.

  For now, they seemed safe. To sweeten their victory even more, Pale had detected fresh air again. This time much stronger. The smell of
fresh snow and a crisp breeze filled Traven’s mind.

  “Pale thinks we might be heading towards an exit,” the Hero informed the princess. He did not know whether Glacial sobbed or simply sighed, but the Giant’s body sank back into his. Traven had forgotten how full her figure was beneath those clothes. Under any other circumstances, Traven might have felt pleased, but now he felt only anxiety. Even Pale’s enthusiastic images of an escape rang hollow in Traven’s head.

  He had been so proud of defeating both the Swords and the Creepers, yet he could really take no credit for either deed. It was foretold he would emerge victorious. Traven had to overcome those two foes. Else wise how could the Gullet claim his doom?

  *****

  CHAPTER 27

  Crystalia tried to bend her fingers but could not get them to move. Miss Emmert had forbidden Crystalia from using her magick to warm herself. There were beasts that were drawn to sorcery, and Miss Emmert wanted a safe ascent. They had been riding since before sunrise and were still climbing the mountain come dusk. Every joint in her body creaked in protest. Crystalia had pushed herself too hard, too long, although she doubted if they would get rest any time soon.

  The black splotch against the mountain peak had spread to a dark blemish against the white-sheeted range. Miss Emmert had explained that the foul rock was so very slick that not even snow could stick to its surface. Not even the bighorn sheep could navigate the polished surface. That was why the Pass was such a strategic location. One would have to travel hundreds of miles to the south to cross the High Peaks. If they wished to reach the Gullet before the Hero, they would have to bargain their way through the Pass.

  Miss Emmert refused to discuss who the Caitliff was. Why would a man hold a Pass for ransom, then never let anyone cross? It made no sense to Crystalia. Not that much on this journey had.