7 Folds of Winter

by Carolyn McCray

  “Whoa, boy. You remember me, don’t you? Please. Ornery is a friend.”

  Miss Emmert approached from behind and whispered into Crystalia’s ear. “Get him to move aside, child.”

  Crystalia nodded and took a tiny step closer as the horse’s eyes rolled back and his lip curled. “We’re here to help Traven.”

  Before she could grab Lauger’s lead, the portal groaned so loudly that it drowned out Miss Emmert’s instruction. Through the center, singed flesh pulsated, and a rock lit with fire fell through the hole.

  “Flame of Adamantine!” Miss Emmert shouted above the Gullet’s cries of agony. “Crystalia, get the horse back! Ornery, shove the stone back into the beast!”

  This time Crystalia lunged for the reins and tugged the great horse backwards. Lauger did not give much resistance as he danced away from the flames. Ornery used his sleeve to protect his hand and picked up the rock, but as hard as he tried to push the stone into the flesh, it simply rebounded back out onto the snow. The fire that burned flickered and waned.

  Miss Emmert pulled a small letter opener from her waist and gouged the flesh of the portal. Green slime oozed from the wound. Ornery shoved the barely sparkling rock deep into the fleshy opening.

  All around the orifice, tendrils formed and grew to the size of tree trunks. As the heads formed on the arms, they screamed their outrage. But the stone was doing its chore. The small hole was now enlarging to one that a child might be able to fit through. Miss Emmert and Ornery backed away as the snake-like heads gnashed and lunged.

  “We need weapons!” Ornery shouted over the chaos. “Do you have anything else?” he asked Miss Emmert.

  The woman shook her head. “Only ourselves.”

  ***

  Traven felt another suction cup latch onto his neck, digging into his skin. He whirled around, and in a single arcing stroke, severed the tentacle. Despite the death of its arm, the suction cup held on tight, pinching his flesh. Taking a second, Traven reached up and ripped the damn thing from his body. They all had marks where the cups had penetrated the skin and began sucking the blood. Already his head swam with dizziness, but they could not pause in their efforts.

  They had cut down dozens of such tentacles, only to have more spring forth. Granted they were smaller, but equally lethal. Glancing over his shoulder, Traven noted that the hole was twice the size it was before. It was getting large enough so that one such as Glacial might slip through.

  Pale growled a warning, and Traven cut through another arm before it could strike at him. Glacial clung to the back wall as it advanced. In a few moments, she would not be able to hide from the Gullet. If they did not get her out of the ever-tightening chamber, she would be an easy mark for the monster.

  Traven could swear he heard voices on the other side but did not take the time to check. Even Pale was too overwhelmed in battle to extend himself to the outside world. They fought in such close quarters, against so many foes, that it was all they could do to stay alive.

  But alive they stayed. With each moment the hole was enlarging, and the light of the full moon was streaming through the opening. Wind now buffeted them from outside. If they could just hold on long enough, they might all just make it.

  Glacial’s scream forced Traven to spin around. All the reserve energy he had dissipated on sight. Behind the Princess, the walls had parted. Instead of an alternate escape route, the opening offered only death.

  From one side the Shadow Swords sharpened their blades, and from the other, the Craven Creepers prepared to launch an attack. Stepping back, Traven grabbed Glacial by the arm and yanked her towards the Gullet. Fending off a tentacle, he shoved her forward. Picking her up by the waist he crammed her into the tiny opening.

  The Gullet spasmed and churned, but could not close the hole around Glacial. But neither could Traven shove her all the way through. She was stuck, halfway through the portal. The Hero could hear her begging for help and prayed there was someone on the other side to grant it. For now, his own hands were full of suction cups, Shadow Swords, and Craven Creepers.

  ***

  Ornery darted forward and tried to grab the girl’s hands, but the heads swooped down upon him, biting and snarling. Lauger and Nutmeg were helping him keep the monsters at bay, but the beast was fast and viscous. And he had no weapons. At the least the horses had their sharp hooves. What did he have?

  “Think of a warhorse!” Miss Emmert shouted. Ornery turned, a puzzled look on his face. Was his mother speaking in code? “As you did the mountain goat! Think of a deadly stallion and attack!”

  Ornery blinked twice, still not understanding her meaning. His body seemed to know, however, and it burned to rush forward. Before he lost his nerve, Ornery snarled as best he could and leapt towards the black-haired girl. His hand flashed out in front of him and lanced through the Gullet’s tissue. What had once been his fingers were now pointed hooves, filed to a razor.

  The more he looked at them, though, and doubted their existence, the less sharp they became. Freeing his mind of questions, Ornery snatched the girl’s outstretched hands and gave her several hard yanks. With each one, she screamed but still clung to his hands.

  “Quickly!” Miss Emmert shouted from behind.

  He did not need to turn around to know that the monstrous heads were turning their attention towards his rescue efforts. Putting his entire body into it, he wrenched the girl free. They fell backwards, tumbling through the snow. But they were free, at the least. Or were they?

  Slowly, the girl began sliding backwards, howling in pain. Ornery jumped up to find another tentacle wrapped around the girl’s leg with its hook-like appendages piercing her ankle. Without thinking, Ornery raised his arm above his head and willed it to strike clean.

  He brought his now-hoofed hand down upon the Gullet’s appendage. The blow did not have the force to sever the tentacle, but with a bit of frantic sawing, the girl was freed. She kicked at the limb still enwrapped around her foot until it rolled free.

  Helping her up, Ornery escorted her far from the Gullet and eased her into a sitting position. Instead of letting go of him, the girl pulled him closer.

  “You are a Centaur?” she asked.

  “Aye.”

  Before he could react, the girl pulled his still-hoofed hand to her lips and kissed him once. Ornery tried to pull back, but she forced his hand to her chest, just above her bosom, then kissed it again. Without giving her a mighty shove, there was no way to disengage the young woman. In a final motion, she touched his hand to her forehead and gave it a last kiss.

  “I had not thought I would live to see your most-revered people. I can go to my fate, contented.”

  With those words, the girl swooned over. Whether it was from the loss of blood or something worse, he did not know. He turned and shouted to Miss Emmert.

  “Come quickly! She’s fainted away!”

  His mother waved in acknowledgment but first turned back to Crystalia. Ornery tried to pull his hand from the girl’s, but hers was a vice grip. The warmth of her hand felt good in his own, but he did not trust the feeling. This one was so beautiful even in her current state that she shown with a purity not reached by humans. But if there was one thing he had learned in his travels, it was beauty had a way of corrupting even the gentlest of souls.

  No, he would not trust this girl, even if his life depended upon it.

  ***

  “Do you want to help, Crystalia?” Miss Emmert asked.

  “Yes! Anything!” Crystalia answered, meaning it fully. There was nothing she would not do for the Hero.

  “You will not completely understand what I ask of you, but will you do it?”

  “Aye, yes.”

  Miss Emmert had Crystalia’s complete trust.

  The woman looked once at her with those penetrating eyes then nodded. “I need you to fall asleep.”

  “What?” Crystalia felt ready to jump out of her skin. There was battle being waged right behind them, and Miss Emmert wanted her
to rest?

  “Child. I told you, you would not understand. I have not had time to teach you all of the Snowy Maiden’s secrets. But know this. Traven has need of the Maiden right now, not Crystalia.”

  How Crystalia wanted to fight Miss Emmert, but she had learned over the last few days, there was no winning against this one. “How can I sleep now? I —”

  “All’s you need do is lie down and will yourself to sleep. But before you fall into full slumber, you must stay conscious of your surroundings.”

  “Why? You said —” Crystalia stopped as a scream burst from the orifice. The opening was not much bigger than it was before.

  “Child, we have not much time. Listen and listen well. You must separate from your body. Your spirit is immune to the Gullet. In this form you can cross the barrier and tell the Hero what must be told.”

  Crystalia wanted to argue, to fuss, to fight. Anything but do as Miss Emmert asked. She was now no longer afraid that this plan would not work. Crystalia feared with all her heart, it would.

  How would she get back? What if her spirit itself was injured? The most comforting thoughts during her church days had been the talk of eternal peace. They had always said that no matter what happened to your body, no one could ever touch your soul. What if they were wrong? What if her soul was damaged, but her body intact?

  Miss Emmert shook her. “Can you do this?”

  Nodding, Crystalia plopped down onto the hard snow. She took one last look at her surroundings. Nutmeg and Lauger were again striking at the Gullet while Ornery tended to the fallen girl. On the other side of that orifice was her greatest love. Whether she was contained in flesh or not, she would reach out to him.

  “I am ready.”

  ***

  Traven’s arms complained loudly of the abuse he was heaping upon them. There were so many foes coming from so many different directions that he could not complete a full thrust before he had to swing around and parry. It was not the stuff his instructors back at the Mount would approve of, but it kept him and Pale alive.

  “Keep gnawing!” Traven shouted to the wolf. The hole was still too small for either Pale or himself to squeeze through. It was up to the Hero to keep the attackers at bay while the wolf carved out an escape route.

  A chill passed over Traven, far worse than any he had received from the brisk wind. The feeling was so unnerving that the Hero wavered in his defenses and looked over his shoulder. There was nothing but Pale standing motionless. What was the wolf thinking? Traven sent a strong urging to Pale, but it was ignored. Turning his attention back to their attackers, Traven growled.

  “Chew!”

  Pale did the oddest thing. He whimpered. Not in pain but in delight. Traven could not help but turn around again. Still, there was nothing. A shiver coursed down the Hero’s back, and he unconsciously raised his sword to an unseen presence. What manner of foul creature now attacked? The wolf sent a rush of images, blurry and too rapid to sort out. Taking a blow to the back from a tentacle, Traven stumbled as he spun to the fight.

  Whatever the wolf had to say, it was not as important as the fight at hand.

  Once the excitement calmed, Pale sent Traven a clearer image. In his mind’s eye, he could see a girl standing before the wolf. The Hero’s eyes flicked back but could make out no such person. This was not what he needed, Traven thought.

  More than likely, some ghost of a murderess had his wolf in thrall and would kill them both for the joy of it. But Pale’s enthusiasm refused to be denied. The wolf demanded Traven’s attention. Letting his body flow with instinct and years of practice, the Hero opened his mind to his bonded wolf.

  Traven could now hear the spirit speak. At first it was too soft for him to make out the words, but slowly he began to understand her speech.

  “Miss Emmert says you must use your symbol. Lance the Gullet at the points of your mark.”

  “Who is Miss Emmert, and what do you know —”

  The girl’s transparent hand rose to show him a tattoo of his Hero’s emblem. “Please, Hero. Pierce the beast and flee.” Her words were choked with tears. “You do not have much time.”

  In that, she was more than correct. He would be lucky if he could fend off the denizens of the Catacomb for a few moments longer. Pale barked in encouragement and moved away from the portal to take up the defense while Traven did the deed.

  “I cannot stay. Join me on the other side,” the ghost said. Then faded from view.

  Traven hated to tell spirit, but the Hero hoped never to see her again. But he was out of options, and this plan was no more insane than others he had tried. His arms were so fatigued that he could barely raise his sword above his head to drive the blade into the first point. This seemed like a fool’s task, but apparently he was a fool, so Traven continued.

  If nothing else the Gullet groaned and convulsed as he sank the sword down to the hilt. As green blood gushed from the wound, the Hero struck the next point. This time the tentacles flailed wildly and screamed with terror. He was making headway. The Craven Creepers all scrambled away as Traven moved to the third point. Only two more to go.

  The Shadow Swords fled after the next piercing. The tentacles had fallen limp to the floor. Traven smiled. This was more like it. The portal opened a bit more.

  “Jump!” He shouted to Pale. The wolf surged through immediately, wiggling his body in such a way he looked like pup trying to sneak into a chicken coop.

  Traven pulled back and lanced the fourth point. This time, though, the Gullet let out a shrieking wail and collapsed upon itself, blocking the hole.

  Traven stabbed at where the exit used to be, but the mass was solid and unyielding. Raising his sword again, the Hero drove his blade into the last point. Nothing happened. Traven pierced it again and again, but still nothing changed. The Creepers and Swords had not gone far and now circled back, waiting like vultures.

  Falling to his knees onto the blood slick floor, Traven gouged wildly at the portal. He fought to escape but knew his efforts were futile. Fate would get her due.

  “You don’t play very well, you know.”

  Traven spun around to find Loplop sitting beside him.

  “Can you help me?” the Hero asked in desperation.

  “You say you want to play. You pick your pieces, and you talk all nice, but when it comes down to it, you turn all sissy pants.”

  This was not quite as helpful as Traven had hoped. “Do I need to use one of my game pieces?” Traven asked as he began rummaging through his pockets.

  “Are you just plain dumb? Jesh. The girl showed you everything already.”

  The boy went back to playing with his trinkets as Traven tried to figure out what in the world the boy was hinting at. “Could you tell me again?”

  Loplop rolled his eyes and made a sound similar to one used when talking to a person of very feeble mind. In the green blood, the boy made a circle. “Connect the dots.”

  “But the girl said nothing —”

  “Are you going to let a girl do all your thinking? I told ya! You’re a big sissy.”

  Traven ignored the boy’s taunt and rose to his feet. Starting at the top, the Hero drew a line with his sword in the Gullet’s flesh. Once the circle was complete, the tissue melted away, leaving a hole large enough that Traven could easily walk through. He turned to thank the boy, but Loplop was already gone.

  “Hurry!” A scream came from the other side. Not needing much encouragement, Traven leapt through the portal and out onto the snow.

  ***

  Ornery lifted the unconscious form of Crystalia up onto Nutmeg’s back. Miss Emmert held the girl in place. “Help the Hero with the Princess.”

  The Hero was stumbling out of the orifice, still dazed by the battle. Ornery ran over and offered his assistance. “We must leave. Mount your horse.”

  “We have wounds we must attend—”

  Ornery shook his head vigorously. “Nay.” Ornery handed the Hero Lauger’s reins. “Once the Gullet dies, the Go
rlonn will rebel. This whole region will be unstable.”

  For a moment it looked like the Hero might cry. It was obvious that the man had thought himself safe, only to find himself in as much peril as he had been on the other side of the portal.

  Ornery encouraged the stunned man. “Quickly, before the quakes start.”

  The Hero recovered his composure quickly and swung himself up into the saddle. Glacial was so light that it barely took any effort for Ornery to raise her form up to the Hero.

  “Where do we head?” the man asked.

  “Follow Miss Emmert.”

  Ornery turned to leave, but the Hero stopped him. “Was it you who pulled Glacial from the portal?”

  Suddenly Ornery was embarrassed. He hoped the Hero did not plan to kiss him. “Yes.”

  Traven reached out his hand. “I owe you my thanks. What is your name?”

  “Ornery.”

  “There will be songs written for you, Ornery.”

  Before he could blush any further, Ornery ran to join Miss Emmert. Already the ground vibrated with discord.

  ***

  Holt flexed his arm beneath Ekoli. He had not meant to hold her so long, but it was the only thing that kept the goddess from tossing and turning. Shifting her weight, Holt enjoyed the sensation of having control of his own body. He had been under the influence of the bloodlust for less than a day, but it had seemed a lifetime.

  To watch yourself become a vile creature of evil and cruelty was too much to bear. Holt had nearly killed his own mother. Worse, he would have relished the taste of her blood. The thought drained all sense of peace from the moment.

  Restless from his long enforced rest, Holt shifted Ekoli to a soft blanket. His mother would be exhausted. While the sun still hid behind the earth, Holt could relieve her of the reins. Making sure that Ekoli was comfortable, Holt rose and joined his mother out in the night air.