The only thing still real and tangible was the mark upon her palm. Her hand warmed to the thought of Traven nearing. By tomorrow they should be united.
Or dead, Crystalia reminded herself.
Either way, this torture of not knowing would be over.
“Stop!” Miss Emmert hissed as she pulled Nutmeg to a halt.
“What —” Ornery tried to ask, but Miss Emmert cut him off.
“Silence.” Her proclamation was more a sound than a word.
Crystalia shifted in the saddle as Ornery looked behind them. There was nothing out of the ordinary. The white slopes were still pristine, and the black rock still glimmered in the late day’s sun.
Miss Emmert urged Nutmeg close to Cinnamon. Her words were a hushed whisper. “Guide Cinnamon forward. Slowly. Do not speak until I allow it.”
Ornery looked like he was going to question her orders, but the boy simply nodded. At a creeping pace, the two horses picked their way up the now-steep slope. Crystalia jumped at every tiny sound. Did Miss Emmert sense a foe neither the boy nor she could see?
The strangest popping sound echoed off the mountains. Crystalia tried to look up, but Miss Emmert gave Cinnamon a swat to the arse, and both horses surged forward. Crystalia had to grab the horse’s mane with both hands to keep from falling off. Soon the noise was so loud that Crystalia ears felt like bursting. A deep rumbling filled the air.
“Avalanche!” Miss Emmert screamed, her voice barely rising above the sound of crashing snow. Whole sheets of once packed snow, careened down the slope towards them. The entire mountainside appeared to be falling towards them.
With a look up the slope, Crystalia realized they would not clear the wall of snow. Miss Emmert must have had the same sense, for the woman pointed to an outcropping of rocks. Nutmeg veered to the right as Miss Emmert shouted.
“There!”
Cinnamon tried her hardest, but the stony overhang was too far. The horse and her riders were hit with a ton of speeding snow. With a scream, Crystalia was knocked from Cinnamon. Tumbling inside the snow, Crystalia wished for only one thing.
To live to see the Hero one last time.
***
Ornery tried to let the snow simply carry his body, rather than pummel it, but it was no use. The avalanche was an angry beast, ready to chew up anything in its path. He felt the back of his collar get caught. For a moment, Ornery thought his shirt would rip off his back, but suddenly he was pulled from the snow’s path. Blood clouded his vision, and his head hurt so badly that it was painful to even think.
“Are you badly injured?” A voice tried to speak over the thunder of the avalanche.
“Mother?” Ornery heard himself say, like a babe for the first time.
Miss Emmert clutched him to her chest. “Aye, son. Just rest for a moment. Let me staunch this bleeding.”
Suddenly there was a deafening silence. All the noise had seemed to drain from the world.
“Is it over?”
“For now. Here, let me see your eye. Can you open the lid?”
Ornery tried, but the pain was too great.
“Does this hurt?” His mother asked as she probed around his eye socket.
“Yes!” Ornery exclaimed. What did she expect? Everything hurt. “Where is Crystalia?”
Miss Emmert’s tone was solemn. “I could not reach her. The snow swept her away.”
“We must go to her.” Ornery said as he tried to sit up. His head swam, and his vision blurred.
“I will go. You lie down.”
Miss Emmert was up and gone before he could protest. He so wanted to search for the girl, but his body would not cooperate. The world tilted and spun each time he tried to rise. Realizing that fighting the pain and nausea was getting him nowhere, Ornery lay back down and willed his body to heal. He could hear Miss Emmert combing the hills, softly calling out to Crystalia. Ornery did not have much experience in the mountains, but he knew avalanche was still a threat.
“Oh, god, no!”
Despite his vertigo, Ornery leapt up at Miss Emmert’s words and raced outside. He found his mother kneeled down beside the snow, sobbing deeply. Ornery covered the distance down the slope in a few bounds but skidded to a stop. It could not be. Miss Emmert pulled Ornery into her embrace. Nutmeg whinnied loudly and nudged the body.
Cinnamon was still almost completely buried in the snow bank. Miss Emmert had only dug out her head. The scene seemed unreal to him. This could not be. His cousin could not be dead, yet there she lay. Lifeless and still.
“You must heal her!” Ornery demanded.
His mother shook her head. “I cannot. She is beyond the Veil.”
“You fixed Crystalia! You said Madame Hesper could perform a Ritual! Use it on Cinnamon!”
Miss Emmert hugged him more closely, stroking his hair. “She is gone, son. There is nothing we can do.”
Ornery cast his aching mind about, trying to find a way to bring back his beloved cousin. Though he had not known her to be a relative until a few days ago, he loved her deeply. Even as just one of their stock horses, his fondness had been expansive. She was always the one to give him a nip or kick when she felt the need.
Nutmeg brayed loudly and swatted the air with her thick tail. They looked down the slope to find two bundled men dragging Crystalia towards the pass. Miss Emmert was onto her feet in a blinding second, mounting Nutmeg and charging down the mountainside.
“Stay here!” His mother shouted as she pulled away.
Petting Cinnamon for one last time, Ornery rose up on shaking legs. He would not lose them both this day. Anger and despair fueled his aching muscles. He swore to the gods, both human and Centaur, he would not.
***
“Ouch!” Crystalia squealed as the brute jerked her hair again. How could she possibly keep up with these men? Did they not know she had just narrowly survived an avalanche? “Please! Let me go!”
The men did not appear to understand the King’s language. She had not gotten a good look at them when they dug her from the snow. At first she had been relieved and thankful, but now her limbs shook with fear. It was clear that they meant her harm.
Crystalia tried to turn her head. Did she hear someone cry out from behind? Did anyone else from her party survive the disaster? The man cranked her head back, but she could sense their apprehension. Someone followed. Grunting, the brutes stepped up their pace, yanking her along.
Where were they going? She could see nothing but snow and ragged stones jutting up amongst the banks. Suddenly, they turned past a set of rocks, and hot air blasted her in the face.
For a moment, she could not breathe. Her eyes burned, and her lungs complained of the sudden humidity. Smells assaulted her nose, making her cringe. What manner of filth lived in this mountain? She had never smelled so much body odor and refuse before.
“Let me go!” Crystalia shouted as they dragged her over uneven stone. “Let go!”
The men complied but shoved her forward. Stumbling, Crystalia fell to her knees, scraping the palms of her hand. The markings flared and burned with the sting of blood. The room was filled with steam, and the stench of incense burned over long.
She looked up to find a hideous face staring back at her. The flesh was all tangled like a scar gone bad. A third eye blinked out of step with the creature’s other orbs. The face seemed to float and bob in the thick fog.
Screaming, Crystalia tried to back away, but the men roughly held her in place.
“You are a pretty thing, girl.” Drool slid from the thing’s lips, but before the spit could fall, the creature sucked it back its mouth.
Crystalia clawed at the face as it descended towards her. Her nails dug into the tissue, ripping shreds from his face.
The creature only laughed. “I like my women playful.”
A voice boomed from behind. “Step away, Caitliff”
Mercifully the men turned to meet the intruder and released their hold on Crystalia’s neck. Scrambling backward, Crystalia found
a niche in the wall and tried to hide herself. Miss Emmert emerged from the fog astride Nutmeg.
“Do you now add kidnapping children amongst your crimes?”
The mist cleared a bit, and Crystalia could now make out the body attached to the vile face. Its arms and legs were as fleshy and twisted as its visage.
The man waddled forward, booming with threat. “How did you breach my threshold?”
“I have been here before, sir. Your invitation lasts forever. Or have you forgotten?”
Ornery burst into the room and was immediately captured by the brutes. Miss Emmert flashed an angry look at the boy but turned her attention back to Caitliff.
“You dishonor yourself, knave.”
The grotesque man stopped in his path and let out a rolling laugh. “You amuse me, Ma’am. How could a bastard born from a dead woman’s belly under a new moon bring any more dishonor to himself?”
Miss Emmert’s tone was full of disdain. “You seem to have found a way.”
“My, you have a tongue, woman. Would you like to use it on me?”
“I am Seleen, Daughter of Madame Hesper. Wife of Dimitri. You owe me allegiance, Caitliff. I have need to cross your Pass.”
Laughter still echoed off the chamber, even though the man’s face had turned stern. His third eyelid fluttered erratically. “I owe none. The Pass is my own.”
“I am tired, bastard, and have a rough road ahead. I am in no mood for your posturing. Deny me, and I will bring down this hovel of yours, along with the Pass.”
This seemed to shock even the Caitliff. “You would never —”
“The Icy Span is destroyed. The Pass is nothing to me.”
Crystalia shivered despite the oppressive heat. Other equally ugly men filled the room. They were outnumbered five to one. She hoped Miss Emmert knew what she was doing. Caitliff looked enraged and a bit scared. It did not seem a good combination.
“You have much to answer for, woman.”
“Let me through the Pass, and you can take your argument up with the Quorum.”
The man obviously had no taste for Miss Emmert’s suggestion. But neither did he wish to look weak in front of his men. “I admit your husband did me a favor. But that was paid by your own crossing decades ago.”
“Nay. Do not twist the past, Caitliff. You owe Dimitri.”
“Dimitri, perhaps, but not you.”
“We are one, Caitliff. Decide within three seconds, or I shall make this mountain quake like nothing you have ever felt.”
“I will have her, as wife.” The man pointed to Crystalia. She tried to melt into the stone, but the deformed legs carried him over to her hiding spot. Crystalia cringed as he reached a greasy hand towards her.
“You have outgrown your senses. You think yourself the Snowy Maiden’s equal?”
The Caitliff snatched his hand away from Crystalia’s face. His look transformed from lust to fear. “The Snowy Maiden?”
“Aye. The boy you so callously hold is The Way. If you do not heed my power, fear the gods’ wrath if you harm either one.”
The man hobbled back to his low throne. His teeth chewed his lip until it bled. The Caitliff was blustery but obviously not eager to tempt the Fates.
“I will need a small favor in return for my generosity.”
Miss Emmert sighed and nodded. “A small one. Think before you ask. My temper grows short.”
One could almost see the man’s mind churning as he drummed his fingers on the stone beside him.
“I will not tally here —”
“That one’s undergarments.” The Caitliff blurt out pointing to Crystalia. She squirmed under his gaze as a slow smile crossed the deformed face, showing a mouth with cracked and chipped teeth. “Yes. That is what I will need.”
Crystalia could not believe it when Miss Emmert agreed. “Her petticoats, then.”
“Nay. I want those next to her skin. I want her smell on them.”
“Caitliff, I will not —”
“It is not every day one has the pleasure of the Snowy Maiden’s company. The winters are long here, Seleen.”
There was a finality to theCaitliff’s words. He had made up his mind, and it sounded as if he was now ready to fight for his boon.
But Miss Emmert’s lips firmed into a straight line. “And I have held my magic close for over a decade, not letting even a drop spill past my pores, Caitliff. I do not wish to destroy another fabled landmark, but test my patience again…”
The grotesque man squirmed in his seat, apparently trying to decide if Miss Emmert was serious or not. Finally he must have believed her look of determination.
“Her petticoats then.”
Miss Emmert nodded sharply. “Then we leave without delay, with an armed escort.”
The man’s third eye blinked compulsively, and it looked like the Caitliff wavered, but Seleen’s hand raised, and she whispered a chant under her breath.
“Granted,” Caitliff hissed.
Miss Emmert dismounted and crossed to Crystalia’s hiding place. “Slip them off.”
“But Miss Emmert! I can’t! I —”
“Child, do it!” The woman’s voice did not allow any retort. Red-faced, Crystalia began peeling her thick petticoats off but stalled when she found Caitliff’s eyes upon her. “Must he watch?”
Miss Emmert turned on her heel. “We will have privacy!”
The grouping of men murmured their disagreement, but the Caitliff must have sensed Miss Emmert’s swelling anger. The spectators melted away with a wave of the Caitliff’s hand. Once released, Ornery turned his back.
“There ,child. Now be quick about it.”
Crystalia tried to hurry, but her fingers were sore and bruised.
Even the time Viola strung her stockings up the garrison’s flagpole, paled in comparison. But Crystalia realized this was a small price to pay if it bought them safe passage to Traven. At least that is what she tried to convince herself of as she tugged her petticoats off. After handing the linens to Miss Emmert, she hurriedly pulled her petticoats back on.
Miss Emmert turned to find the Caitliff right beside her. With all her layers of dress on, she was certain Caitliff, at most, snatched a peek at her ankle, but even that seemed like too much to Crystalia.
“Here are your panties, knave. Enjoy them as you rot away from the inside.”
The man seemed pleased at the insult.
“I shall.” He buried his nose in the under garment and took in a draught. “My men await you down the hallway. Do not think to come back this way unless the Maiden is willing to give me more than just fantasies.”
Miss Emmert’s voice was thick with threat. “The next time the Maiden sets eyes upon you, Caitliff, she shall kill you.”
***
Madame Hesper cautiously entered the chamber where Holt was being held. The sun was fading from the afternoon sky. They could leave soon, if her son had recovered his senses. If not, well, Madame Hesper did not wish to dwell on what would happen then. She had been a fool to think they could keep the Curse at bay forever. Even the decades of remission they had salvaged were more than most could hope for. This moment had been inevitable.
In the complete darkness of the chamber, Madame Hesper could not make out her son’s form upon the bed. Taking short, careful steps, she crossed the room.
“I would not venture any closer.”
Madame Hesper swung around to find Holt hanging from the ceiling, his talons bit deeply into the rock. He swung slightly to a rhythm all his own.
“Son, are you fit to travel?”
A hiss snaked out from Holt’s lips. “I hunt.”
“Holt. You must break the Curse’s hold. Do not let the hunger seduce you.”
Her son’s wings spread, and with a strong flap, Holt flipped over and landed on the floor. His face was still twisted into the mask of a Vampyr, his human form barely recognizable. “What would you know of hunger? You have grown fat and docile.”
It pained her to hear those wor
ds come from her son’s lips, but she knew it was a part of Holt that was fueled by bloodlust. All other victims of the Curse succumbed to the siren song of the hunt and feeding. Their animal instincts overwhelmed the human spirit. Descending into a sneaking madness, the victims were usually put out of their misery before they could harm friend and family. Would she be faced with such a choice?
“You must fight back, Holt.”
“I am Vampyr.”
Madame Hesper’s hand felt the slick handle of her stake. She had hidden the object amongst the folds of her dress. If she could not summon her son’s spirit to the surface, she could not leave the Vampyr to wreak havoc. The wood weighed heavily in her palm. To kill one’s own child went against all of nature. Yet if the Vampyr was in control, was her son not already dead?
“You are my son. Come back before it is too late.”
Holt looked ready to attack. His talons flexed menacingly, and his eyes were bright with hunger. Planting her feet, Madame Hesper waited for the onslaught.
“Holt, you are more than the Curse.” A voice carried from the hallway.
Madame Hesper turned to find Ekoli gingerly walking into the room.
The Vampyr looked torn. The goddess’ bandage must have reeked of blood, yet it was obvious he was loath to hurt her. Something of Holt remained to contain the demon.
Madame Hesper lent an arm to Ekoli as she wilted from weakness. Still her voice carried strong to Holt’s heart. “The Vampyr is nothing more than your base self, the part we all hide within, given form. The Curse need not be destructive.”
What was the goddess saying? There was nothing about the Curse that was not damaging. Most did not survive a single season once afflicted.
“I am Vampyr,” Holt said, this time with less confidence. Ekoli let go of Amanda and walked to face the Vampyr.
She put a hand out and stroked Holt’s cheek. “You are who you wish to be, Holt. Long ago, your people forgot there was a time before you gained dominion across the land. The Curse was a gift to the people of the forest at a time of great need. It gave them strength and courage in the face of devastation. Bend the Curse to your will. Let the hunger serve you.”
7 Folds of Winter Page 37