But they were just as cold as the glacier.
What exactly had happened to everyone? All she could remember was the glow of magic filling her, drawing her to the Shadow Woman on the glacier. But why would that have anything to do with her clan? Did Nana’s spell work? Were they okay?
The tunnel twisted and wound its way through the core of the mountain. The magic flame held steady, though small, but Talia wasn’t sure if it would last the whole way. She clutched the vial tightly, reassuring herself of its presence. If she needed, she could summon another flame. But then she would have nothing to protect them from the Shadow Woman. At least, nothing but her ring. But there was no telling if the ring even had any magic left.
As they walked, Talia watched the shifting shadows, noting the carvings and paintings in the rock that promised this was the right way. A history of her people, there for anyone to read and imbued with a magic to continue their story, even if the last of them were to die.
She suddenly froze, her eyes held captive by a new painting, one she didn’t remember. She saw herself as a small baby in the first part, her parents throwing a grand party. She recalled something of her mother not being able to conceive for many years, desperate for an heir. She saw the Shadow Woman separated from the party. Of course she hadn’t been invited; no one had seen her for decades by the time Talia was born...most thought she had died.
The next panel showed Talia slightly older, held by a woman she was sure was Nana. It was exactly as she had been told, the curse and the ring and the magic all swirling together in a rainbow of colors against the cold rock. She didn’t even need to read the glyphs to know what the curse had been. She’d lived it.
She saw the circle filled with telling signs of the seasons next, a circle split into quadrants containing sun, leaf, wind, and flower glyphs. Eighteen times the artist repeated this glyph, indicating the passage of eighteen years of Talia’s life.
And then there was the last day she remembered. The painting showed the girl, a mere silhouette in the blowing wind and white of the blizzard that day, disappearing into the blanket of the storm, the sleepy embrace of the ice.
This was where the painting should have ended. She would have been dead if not for Nana’s gift. She touched the ring absently, the metal warm from her own body heat.
But the paintings didn’t end there, didn’t stop where her story should have stopped. There was more, carved by the spell older than the oldest pictograph. Talia’s heart leapt in her chest, feeling the fear grasping her lungs like the icy wind.
She saw herself standing next to a boy, a young man, saw her pictorial representation standing over him in a sign of protection. Saw him giving her strength, power, as the Shadow Woman rose up dark and terrible before them, consumed by the waves of darkness at her feet, around her body, in her eyes.
And there it ended.
Talia caught her breath, holding the flame closer to the rock, trotting left and right past the story again and again, looking for more. She pressed her fingers to the deep grooves in the rock, their lines so cold with magic that it burned her skin. Fear washed over her like an avalanche, squeezing her chest until her breath came in short gasps. That couldn’t be it. It couldn’t end there. She wouldn’t end there!
A hand grabbed at her elbow. “Talia?”
She stopped and dropped her face into her free hand.
“Talia? What is it?”
Now she waved at the pictures next to them. “Nothing good. We should keep moving.”
Talia turned back to the tunnel before them. This time, Owen took her hand.
Eleven
Home
TALIA AND OWEN walked on, led by nothing more than the magic flame and Talia’s sleepy memory. The tunnel seemed to span decades, generations, eons—and in a way, following the painted histories of her people around them, it did. Finally, a shaft of dim white light struck the jagged wall of the tunnel ahead of them. Talia closed her hand, smothering the flame, and hurried forward toward the day.
The snow had stopped while they hurried along the tunnels like blind moles. A bright valley stretched out beneath them, the rocks and trees coated with generous dustings of shimmering powder. Nothing more than a small squall, then. Not uncommon this time of year.
Talia felt the panic clawing at her again. Where was it? Where was the village? Her people? Her family?
She hurried down the narrow path which hugged the mountain, blind to the steep sides and slick earth underfoot. Trees covered the ground where there had been nothing but open meadow around the village, and a keening wail started in her throat. How long was she asleep?
She ran toward the trees that had grown up where the village once lay, sliding to a stop before she became ensnared in the brambles and briars that wove a thick wall around the perimeter of the forest. The village had to be there, just on the other side of this thicket.
“You seem in an awful big hurry,” came a voice just behind them.
As one, Owen and Talia turned to face the intruder, coming almost nose-to-nose with Dr. Karington. The professor stood with her arms crossed, her eyes bright red with the poison of dark magic. The veins on her face stood out like black tree branches striking out over pale skin. The Shadow Woman wouldn’t have control of the doctor for long, but that was only because the magic would kill her soon.
The air swirled behind the doctor, dark shadows blowing in a windy spiral that solidified into the Shadow Woman herself. Talia shivered at the grin covering the Shadow Woman’s face, the effect terrible and gruesome. Just like in the pictographs, the shadows curled and nipped at her feet like waves on the lake.
“Say hello to your apprentice, Karington,” the Shadow Woman sneered.
Dr. Karington smiled in a gross facsimile of her mistress’s own grin and unfolded her arms. She took a step toward Owen. Magic flowed from the Shadow Woman toward Dr. Karington, surrounding her, flowing through her, flowing past her. She lifted a hand, pointing toward Owen, and the magic followed her finger. It raced through the air, curling around itself as it sped toward the student.
Owen jumped back with a yelp. Talia glanced at him, her attention broken. A bright red welt was blossoming on his hand where the tendril had struck.
The distraction allowed the Shadow Woman to gather more magic to herself and hurl it toward Talia. Talia had just enough time to mutter something under her breath. The ring glowed green, and the cloud of shadow dissipated around her and Owen.
The next attack fared much the same. A sphere of clear air surrounded the pair, dispersing the shadows their adversaries hurled at them. Every failed attack led to growing rage, the Shadow Woman screaming into the echoes.
Talia slowly backed their small bubble of protection toward the treeline, edging closer to the underbrush while keeping her ring hand extended into the air. The shield stopped just beyond her palm. She could feel the strength of the shield ebbing, the ring’s power almost entirely consumed.
They had to act fast.
She kept her eyes on the Shadow Woman and Dr. Karington while reaching down blindly toward her boot, grasping for the small hunting knife she hoped and prayed was still there. She had grown so used to its presence that she couldn’t feel its weight against her leg.
Her fingers brushed the polished bone handle, and she pulled it quickly, handing it back toward Owen handle-first.
“Owen!” she yelled. “The bushes!”
Owen glanced over his shoulder at the thicket, then grabbed the knife from her, hacking at the twisting branches and vines with the age-dulled edge, clearing a path for them into the wood.
“You don’t have to do this!” Talia called to the Shadow Woman. “We can still be clan!”
The Shadow Woman laughed. She actually laughed. “A little late for that, my dear.” She hurled another stream of shadow toward Talia and Owen. “Your parents had no consideration for me. Your line ends here. The clan ends here!”
The ring’s shield broke. The copper flashed brightly once,
then faded to a dull oxidized green that was no more magical than the knife.
But it was enough. Owen had carved an opening into the hedge. They ducked into the branches, allowing the dead leaves and twigs to cover them as they plunged deeper into the thicket.
They didn’t have far to go. After only a few hundred feet, the thick tangle of underbrush broke into an open clearing.
The village. It was still here!
The Shadow Woman and her puppet broke into the village square mere moments after Talia and Owen. She laughed, a cold, hollow sound in the empty street.
Talia just stared. Owen grabbed her hand, dragging her into the nearest hut while a stream of magic shattered the frozen ground where she had been standing moments before.
The hut was dark, small motes of dust dancing in the white beams of light that leaked through the cracks in the decaying wood and plaster.
They weren’t alone.
Talia cried out, covering her mouth with her hands and rushing toward the cots at the far end of the hut. Two desiccated, pale mummies lay together, clutching one another in an eternal embrace. Even now, Talia could recognize her parents.
They weren’t the only ones. Tears streamed from Talia’s eyes as she turned and saw Nana slumped across the table, her never-ending projects scattered on the wood in front of her and in the dirt at her feet.
“Nana...” she whispered.
Twelve
Twin Magic
OWEN GLANCED AROUND the hut. He could hear the two women outside, getting closer to them but obviously in no real hurry to end them. Like cats playing with the mice they caught.
He followed Talia toward the back wall, wanting to reach out and shake her, to bring her back to the danger they faced. She had magic. He didn’t.
He followed her gaze to the table, saw Nana and the metal bits. What if...
Before the thought was even completely formed, he was sweeping up every bit of jewelry and scrap metal he could see, finished or unfinished. He hurried toward Talia, shoving piece after piece toward her.
***
Talia froze, the tears bright in her eyes. But she was back. Looking at the metal.
Her eyes fixed on one piece, and she reached for it. It sparked green when her fingers brushed the cold copper. One last gift from Nana. And it looked like just about the right size too.
She lifted her eyes to Owen. “We have to do this together. I need your help.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
In answer, she shoved the new copper ring, in so many ways a twin to her own, onto his finger. “Distract the Shadow Woman. I will do everything I can to free the doctor before...”
She didn’t have to finish. He knew what would happen if Talia failed. He had seen the pallor of death in Dr. Karington’s features.
The wall blew out at the front of the hut. The Shadow Woman and Dr. Karington stood in the shafts of daylight as the dust and snow settled back to the ground, the dark wisps of magic floating and curling around them.
“Go!” Talia yelled, shoving Owen away from her.
Owen stumbled but quickly regained his balance, running in the opposite direction from Talia to flank the enemy. She watched him as she ran, urging him to action.
It was now or never.
“Hey!” Owen yelled. “Over here!”
***
Owen waved his hands over his head, but the Shadow Woman ignored him, her attention entirely consumed with Talia.
He stooped down, scooping up handfuls of powdery snow and pressing it into a ball. “Leave them alone!”
He drew back his arm and threw the snowball at the Shadow Woman, willing it to hit her, willing it to distract her. The ring must have sensed his intent, somehow; a swirl of bright green followed the snowball, catching up to it and plunging it into green light.
The snow struck the woman in the back of the head, exploding in a cloud of green-white. Her head jerked forward with the impact, and she turned slowly to face Owen, her eyes blazing furiously.
“How dare you?” she roared.
He could see his end in those eyes. A terrible, burning end.
***
Talia ran past Dr. Karington, willing the professor to follow her. “Come on, come on,” she muttered, keeping one eye on Owen.
She heard him yell something at the Shadow Woman just before he threw something at her. Snow? It exploded on impact, enough to draw the witch’s attention.
Perfect.
Talia slid to a stop, now watching Dr. Karington’s laborious approach. The dark magic was catching up. There were only a few minutes left to act, only a few minutes until the Shadow Woman would be forced to find a new puppet.
She dug the vial out of her pouch, frantically unscrewing the lid and dumping the remaining threads of flax into her palm.
She whispered that arcane spell, those words of freedom, into the decaying flax, hoping enough life was left in it to save the doctor. The spell complete, she blew the threads off of her open hand.
The threads pulsed green, drifting through the air toward Dr. Karington. They rose and dipped with the small currents, twirled and floated in the cold air, making their way surely and steadily toward the target.
She saw them disappear with Dr. Karington’s next breath, the spell consumed and absorbed. The wicked light left the doctor’s eyes, the death grip of black in her veins brightening to gray. The professor exhaled the witch’s spell, so many broken pieces of black dust scattering in the wind.
She collapsed to the ground, and Talia turned her attention back to the Shadow Woman.
***
Owen ducked around the hut, his heart pounding, his breathing heavy. That woman was most certainly going to kill him. How did this ring work?
He touched the cold copper, thinking of what he wanted: protection from the Shadow Woman. She stepped around the edge of the hut into his line of sight and directed a blast of black at him.
He raised a hand, jerking his head back in anticipation of the blow. But it never came. Just like Talia’s ring, this ring extended a shield in front of him, dissipating the magic as it struck like so much dust in the wind.
Talia slid around the corner behind him, running to stand with him behind the shield.
“What now?” he said.
Talia looked panicked. “I don’t know, I’m out of flax!”
The Shadow Woman reached into her pouch for more of the stabilizer. Her eyes widened, and she withdrew an empty hand.
She was out of flax, too.
She howled in rage, extending a clawed hand toward Talia and Owen. Surely she wouldn’t be foolish enough to cast a spell without the flax?
She would.
Talia watched in horror as the black tendrils of magic, now shot through with threads of bloody red, gathered around the Shadow Woman’s hand. She tried to launch it at the shield, but the magic sparked and fizzled, falling back to devour first her arm, then, with a slowness that was almost comical, the rest of her. Her look of rage quickly turned to horror mirroring Talia’s own as she brushed at the magic, trying to push it away from her.
The valley echoed with the Shadow Woman’s final scream as she faded into nothing.
Thirteen
The End of Winter
THE SHADOW WOMAN’S scream rang though the mountains, and Talia shivered as it died away. She was finally free.
Talia heard a noise like the rustle of cloth from the destroyed hut and turned to face it. She watched, eyes wide, as life crept back into the bodies of her family, the dusky wrinkles of skin warming to the brown and red tones of the living, their hair taking on the sheen and luster of good health.
Her parents sat up, rubbing their eyes and looking around curiously. Nana slowly rose from where she had been slumped at the table, taking shaky steps toward the others. One by one, the people of the clan awoke, stepping out of crumbling huts, stretching their cramped muscles and rubbing sleep-filled eyes.
The spell was broken. Talia’s curse was lifted.
She looked down at the ring on her finger. It sat dull and cold against her skin, its magic spent, its job complete.
It was over.
***
Owen walked over to Dr. Karington, helping her sit up. She looked around, her face glazed and confused as she watched the villagers emerging from the huts along the street.
“What...” she began.
“The glacier people,” Owen replied, knowing without her asking what answers she sought. “They’re still alive.”
He kept a hand to her elbow as she stood on shaking legs, one hand on her head. She was weak, but that was the only remaining sign of the evil that had inhabited her body and trapped her spirit.
She held onto his hand on her arm, simply watching history walk around her. Watching the mummy girl fall into the sleepy embrace of three others. Feeling the last bits of evil disintegrate.
“I’m sorry,” she said, turning slightly to Owen.
“For what? Bringing history to life?” He laughed at his own joke. “Best trip of my life.”
Talia and her family walked toward the scientists, and Talia the Elder extended a hand toward Owen. Owen took it without hesitation.
“Thank you,” the woman said in words he could still understand, tears gleaming in her dark eyes. “Thank you.”
She pulled his hand toward Talia the Younger, linking their hands together. The rings warmed as they neared each other, glowing ever so faintly green.
Talia looked at him, her smile warm. He returned it with a smile that could thaw even the coldest night. The sun peeked out around the charcoal clouds, finally free of the snow squalls, and everyone drank in its warmth.
Winter was over.
All That Glimmers
A Rumplestiltskin Retelling
Prologue
Two Years Ago
Seasons of Magic Volume 1 Page 15