Traven’s face twisted in confusion, but Miss Emmert had no trouble answering her challenge.
“There was no oath to break. No vow to forsake. Do not forget I know your people, Princess. They are not the most forthcoming of sorts, but neither are they dishonorable.” Miss Emmert nodded to Traven. “I am sure the Hero has promised to keep you safe and fulfill your destiny, but they never meant for him to do the deed. Grave was supposed to accompany you, was he not?” Miss Emmert waited until Glacial reluctantly nodded. “Once Grave succumbed, the burden then fell upon the Hero. But Traven never agreed to this, did he?”
Glacial squirmed in her seat. How she wanted to prove the woman wrong, but Miss Emmert had the right of it. Traven was never to be anything more than an escort. But if the Hero did not perform the Rite, who would? The Princess retreated to lessons taught to her since her infancy.
“My place is at the Winter King’s side —”
“I will not do it, Princess.” Traven said with heat in his voice. His resolve was clear. No amount of brow-beating or shaming would sway the man.
Glacial’s thoughts were a muddle. Her distress was so great that she thought she might burst into tears. But never would she give the humans the satisfaction of seeing her cry like a child. One half of her raged against their intrusion. Did they not understand the Princess’s obligation to save her people? Glacial’s destiny was to rescue the Giant’s from Winter’s icy grip.
Yet another quiet, but rapidly growing, voice within her bosom secretly delighted at the news. Could there be a way around the Sacrifice? Was it possible she might live out her life? As a child, the idea of being the most infamous Bride in written history had filled her with such pride and confidence that Glacial had never doubted the words of her Elders. When chosen in the womb for such an honor, one did not question it lightly.
Now that she had walked in the world and seen Winter’s ferocity firsthand, the princess was no longer sure she wanted him for her eternal mate. Glacial had tasted pain and was no longer certain she could stretch her neck out for the sacrificial knife. But how could she abandon her people and their plight?
“My ascension is the only act that can break Winter’s grip.” Glacial tried to say it with conviction, but she obviously failed.
Miss Emmert gave her a sympathetic grin before answering, “If that were true, Glacial, I would slit your throat myself. But Princess, you must begin to accept the fact that your people misinterpreted the portents... Your people were wrong, Glacial.”
The Princess bristled at the human’s arrogance. “How dare you hurl such accusations —”
“Did your wise men foresee The Way being born in this generation? Did they know you would cross paths with the Centaur?” Miss Emmert asked, annoyance creeping back into her voice.
Glacial fell silent. Both knew the answer. If the Elders and the Chieftains had missed such an important omen such as Ornery, could they not have been fallible when it came to the Bride? How she wished Grave was here. He would give sound advice.
Miss Emmert continued, a reassuring tone to her words. “I do not ask you to abandon your quest completely upon my words. I ask only that you delay your journey and accompany us to the Steppes. There you can confer with the Centaur’s mages and decide your next course.”
The Princess almost gave in to the threatening tears. The woman had given her an honorable path that would give her time to sort out her warring emotions.
“We will go with you,” Traven said, speaking for both of them.
For once Glacial did not mind the Hero’s rashness. She did not think she could speak right now even if her life depended upon it.
***
Crystalia watched the exchange of looks that passed between Traven and Glacial. To see the Hero so concerned and enrapt with another girl galled Crystalia to the point she wanted to spit into Traven’s face, or perhaps scratch at his eyes. But she sat still.
Despite the humiliation and crushing disappointment, Crystalia still could not bring herself to think of the Hero poorly. Even Traven’s dedication and concern for the Princess was somehow endearing. She wanted to hate him for his attachment to Glacial, but could not.
For a moment Crystalia was glad Traven was traveling with them, but then she realized she had no need to continue with the group. With the Hero safe, she could return home and find a nice, boring stable boy to marry, have a bundle of screaming children, and stir chutney all the winter long. Any life back at Last Hitch would be better than sitting next to a corpse in a shack with a blizzard howling at the door — anything.
Before Miss Emmert could open another subject, Crystalia interjected. “Is there a way I might go home?”
The sad look on the woman’s face answered her question before Miss Emmert opened her mouth to speak. “Nay, child. You are as drawn to this web as Glacial.” Miss Emmert rubbed her hands together and tried to put on a cheerful face. “I think we might all enjoy a bite to eat and a rest before we discuss this further. There will be time tomorrow on the path to speak of such things.”
“I want to know now!” Crystalia said, a bit more whine to her voice than she had intended.
When Miss Emmert hesitated, Traven spoke up. “I agree with the Maiden. Why does she need to come along?”
A day ago, Crystalia would have been wounded by the Hero’s words, but now she was grateful for his support. Miss Emmert could be quite stubborn.
“Just remember, you both asked me to speak of such things,” the woman warned.
Suddenly Crystalia was not so sure she needed the information right that second, but Traven nodded, and Miss Emmert began her tale.
“I have spent my life deciphering ancient texts, sifting through crumbling parchments, and writing passages backwards a hundred times. All in the effort to divine a trinket of knowledge that might be of some use in the dark days to come. But after years of searching, I can relay what I have learned in a few short sentences.” Miss Emmert paused and swallowed hard. “Perhaps if my mother were here, she might...” The woman trailed off as she choked on her words.
Crystalia felt guilt pinch her again. It was her fault Madame Hesper was not here. The medium should have been at this meeting instead of Crystalia. The Madame would be of help. What use was a young girl from Last Hitch, when the fate of the world rested in the balance?
Finally, Miss Emmert continued. “But she is not, so we must make do...” There was a long stretch of silence as the fire crackled and popped.
“I don’t know about anyone else, but this story could use a goosing,” Corpse said as he warmed his hands in front of the flames.
***
Traven shot a look to the dead man, but Corpse hardly seemed to care how insulting he was. Internally, the Hero admitted that Corpse had a point. He, too, tired of the woman’s hyperbole. If she had bad news, she should spill it.
Miss Emmert gave a grim smile. “We know prophecies to be fluid. They expand and contract with each reading, but there are some tales that ring true, that are as solid as the ground that we walk upon. Like this meeting. It has the feel of Fate about it.” She nodded to Traven. “As did the fight at the Gullet. I did not know beforehand the mechanism of your survival, Traven, but I knew that you would burst from the Catacombs intact.”
Well, Traven would not exactly call it intact. A part of him died back at the Gullet. He could not give it a name, but The Hero could feel it deep within his chest. He no longer feared death. Not that he wanted to go into her embrace any time soon, but he did not flinch from its threat any longer. The Fates be damned. Traven would not allow another to choose his path for him.
“The Hanged Man’s resuscitation is such an event. According to the Faded Pages, Corpse was to have emerged over a decade ago, long before any of you stepped forth into history’s glare. We doubted Ornery’s claim to The Way, and were startled by Crystalia’s bursting forth as the Snowy Maiden. We were not even on the lookout yet for The Man Who Did Not Know. All of these signs we missed because Th
e Hanged Man’s existence was unknown to us.”
“You said this could be summed up in a few sentences, woman. Do you wish us never to eat?” Corpse said, now taking off his shoes and socks, wiggling his toes near the fire.
Traven certainly did not wish to be around when the dead man tried to eat a meal, but he did wish Miss Emmert would get on with the telling. She could have learned a thing or two from Granny.
“I fear something, or someone, is altering our course. A force outside of history is accelerating events and twisting Fate to serve its own ends.”
“That cannot be!” Glacial blurt out. The poor Princess was obviously overwhelmed by all the turmoil. Traven sensed that her values and beliefs had been shaken to the core. It did not seem she could take another tenet, that Fate was ever-constant and in control, to be damaged.
Traven did not wish Miss Emmert to go off on another tangent, so he spoke quickly. “Who do you believe is responsible?”
Miss Emmert shrugged. “I do not know, but we must reveal our enemy before they target us again.”
“What is their end? Why are they doing this?”
“By their actions, I can only assume they mean to destroy the seasons and make the earth inhospitable to life as we know it.”
Ornery asked, his face bright with questions, “How could they survive in a world without definition?”
Miss Emmert seemed proud of her son’s query. “There has always been those opposed to the Quorum. Those that live on the fringe of our world and inhabit the earth we find too inhospitable. Any one of those races, or another we have not yet met, could be forcing this crisis to fruition before we are prepared for battle.”
The room fell silent, except for the bubbling of the soup upon the fire. The aroma of the thin soup filled the air. Despite its lackluster smell, Traven’s stomach growled. They may be in dire circumstances, but his body cared for none of it. Tonight it would be happy to have a full meal and sleep the night away. Unfortunately, Traven knew events such as this did not dissipate that easily.
“You have a plan?” Traven asked, already knowing that she did.
“Aye. We will head to the Steppes and unite Ornery with his father. From there we will travel southwest and meet with the assembled Quorum. After that, the path is unclear.”
“Then it is best we post a guard both inside the door and outside through the night and let everyone else rest for the journey ahead.”
Miss Emmert shook her head as Traven moved to rise. “Before any talk of rest, there is one thing yet to do.”
Traven sat back down, a frown upon his face. He had an inkling what Miss Emmert was talking about, but hoped that he was wrong.
“If this is the Fire Conclave, we have a covenant to seal.”
“Will you fall quiet after this pact is made?” Corpse asked.
The woman only nodded.
“Then let us get this over with.” The dead man held out his hand to Crystalia, but she backed away.
Miss Emmert encouraged the Snowy Maiden. “Go ahead, child. We must hold hands while I speak the words of binding.”
Crystalia’s voice was filled with horror. “I do not wish to be bound to him.” Turning to Traven. “Or him. Or any of you, for that matter.”
“It is all or none, Crystalia. We must all agree to travel together until the Fates ask us to part. If one is struck, the others will stand in defense.”
“The Giants do not make allegiances with dead men,” Glacial said, her haughty tone regained.
Traven was none-too-thrilled with the prospect either, but he had gleaned enough from the Granny’s stories to know this was an essential ingredient to their success. If they did not form this pact, this night, then all would be lost.
“This is not about our people or our heritage. This is about the future,” Traven found himself saying. Once again Granny had prepared him for this moment.
“Declare yourself now, or go home and start carving your gravestone.”
Traven felt like smiling despite the grave nature of his words. Granny always had the best way of summarizing.
Miss Emmert bobbed her head in agreement. “We are what we are. Fate has chosen us as its champions. Who are we to reject the Sisters’ offering?”
Slowly everyone took hands. Crystalia still cringed, but she joined hands like the rest of them.
“Tonight we call forth our mothers, our fathers, our sisters, and our brothers to witness our joining,” Miss Emmert intoned. Her voice had taken on a new strength. A new passion. “Assembled here, we vow our fealty to the Sun, the Moon, and the Stars. Together we are bound. Together we shall live or die.”
Wind whipped through the cracks in the wooden door, making the fire hiss and crackle. Strange light danced around the circle, illuminating everyone’s features.
Miss Emmert’s head snapped up, and a wild look came to her eyes. “I, The Beauty, pledge myself, body and soul.”
The flames licked higher and higher until they reached the roof, and still they climbed. For a moment, Traven could have sworn he saw another figure in Miss Emmert’s place. A slip of a girl with a beauty that radiated from within. But then the vision was gone. The woman, once again pudgy and plain, nodded to Glacial.
“I, The Ice Princess, pledge myself, body and soul.”
Traven did not believe Glacial could become any more beautiful than she already was, but in the blazing firelight, she shone more brightly than even the flames themselves.
“I, The Way, pledge myself, body and soul.”
Traven watched as Ornery’s face rearranged itself, and his body sprouted two new legs. For just a glimpse, Traven knew he had witnessed a true Centaur.
“I, The Hanged Man, pledge myself, body and soul.”
Traven prepared to view a transformation but was disappointed that nothing happened when the dead man spoke. Not even the fire spurted at his words. So Traven was unprepared when Crystalia announced her vow.
“I, the Snowy Maiden, pledge myself, body and soul.”
Instead of a dowdy trapping-town girl, there sat beside him a creature of such gentle beauty, Traven almost wept. Snow danced in her hair, and ice crystals glittered all over her skin. What he had once thought of as plain brown hair now lay rich on her scalp like fertile top soil. She breathed of life and promise.
Holding his breath, Traven composed himself to speak his own pledge. What would change about him? What did he want to see when he spoke the words?
“I, The Man Who Did Not Know, pledge myself, body and soul.” Traven did not even get out the last syllable when the fire exploded, throwing him flying through the air. He was slammed against the far wall so hard that he could not take a breath. Miss Emmert was the first to his side as he coughed and sputtered, trying to loosen the anguish in his chest. Stars danced around his vision, and every word spoken bounced off his skull with agonizing pain.
“Are you all right?” the woman asked, far too loud for Traven’s taste.
Traven inclined his head ever so slightly. He did not wish to talk and set off the pain in his head again. Traven could see the others looking worried over Miss Emmert’s shoulder as she carefully examined his body for injury.
“Well, I think you will survive, Hero. Although I had not expected such a reaction from the binding.”
Neither had he. But as The Man Who Did Not Know, Traven knew he had best get used to such occurrences. They seemed to come with the title.
*****
CHAPTER 30
Madame Hesper squinted against the morning sun. The litter still slid across the snowy Plains, the Fays shimmering as rays of light struck the icy surface. It was a beautiful sight that normally would have enraptured the medium, but her mind was distracted. It was obvious when Holt had awakened her shortly before sunrise that something was greatly wrong, but he would not speak his heart to her. Had the Vampyr damaged her son further? Did the bloodlust still burn in his veins?
For right now, the medium could only ask questions, not expecting
any answers. Ekoli still slept in the enclosed litter. Madame Hesper had hoped the goddess would awaken so that she might question Ekoli and determine the source of her son’s ill ease. Unfortunately, that was not to be. The sun had risen and grown high overhead, and still Madame Hesper was forced to fret alone. Making matters all the more frustrating, the Oracle’s Temple was nowhere to be seen. By Ekoli’s estimate, they should have arrived at the temple early this morning. Either the monument was no longer standing, or something had slowed their journey through the night.
Scanning the horizon, the old woman sighed. Would nothing go according to schedule? She feared greatly for her daughter and grandson. Madame Hesper even had a titch of concern for Emerald. The Faery was most annoying but did not deserve the fate that had been handed her.
“We near,” Ekoli said, startling the medium.
“How can you tell? I see no markings.”
The fallen goddess nodded. “Exactly. Does the snow not seem too flat? Too nondescript?”
Madame Hesper again looked out over the horizontal Plains. They were as level and unchanging as ever. They seemed no different than before.
Ekoli seemed unconcerned. “You’d best slow the rhythm. We wouldn’t want to run into the walls full speed.”
Complying, Madame Hesper took up a more sedate tune. Her eyes ached of searching the horizon, so she turned to Ekoli.
“Holt seems troubled. Do you know the source?”
“That is for Holt to say.” The goddess’s tone was remote and forbade any further discussion.
Still, Amanda felt the urge to press on. She was about to open her mouth, but the litter glided to a stop. The old woman rang the bells more urgently, but the vehicle would not be budged.
Ekoli frowned as she climbed down from the litter. “Let us get on with this.”
Madame Hesper followed but did see a temple anywhere in sight.
“Help me open the doors,” Ekoli said.
7 Folds of Winter Page 42