by Amber Argyle
Tikaani pursed his lips. “I’m sorry.”
Elice shook her head. “You didn’t know.”
Sakari gazed at the young man. “I have never seen such marksmanship.”
His stooped shoulders lifted a little and he blushed, seeming unable to look at her.
Oblivious, Adar was already headed back to the sled. “We have to hurry.”
“The dogs can move faster if they don’t have to pull us,” Aklaq said.
“Isn’t that the point of the dogs in the first place?” Adar asked.
“We run to rest the dogs,” Aklaq explained. “If it gets really steep, we’ll help push the sleds. When we’re tired or the snow is deep and soft, the dogs will take over.”
Elice made the snow hard and fast, and the people ran behind the dogs. It wasn’t long before they were winding through a canyon that cut through the heart of the mountains.
“The tundra where the caribou grazed is on the other side,” Aklaq informed her. She glanced back and met Adar’s gaze.
He nodded to indicate he’d heard. “Can we make that in two days?”
Aklaq squinted into the distance. “We can try.”
Elice turned so her companions wouldn’t see the tension on her face. Ilyenna knew where they were. She would attack them, and soon.
Despite the urgency of the journey, or perhaps because of it, Aklaq insisted they stop to feed the dogs every few hours. He checked the animals’ feet and rewrapped their paws in strips of supple leather. The dogs trotted on and on.
Taking a break meant resting in the sleds, and Elice and Adar had to rest more often than did the highmen. By the end of the day, their legs shook with exhaustion. Elice thawed some meat, and as she began passing out the allotments, she noticed Tikaani watching Sakari. Tikaani quickly glanced away whenever Sakari looked in his direction. And despite everything, despite all the fear and heartache and exhaustion, Elice smiled a secret smile.
She sat down beside Sakari and leaned in close. “Tikaani has been watching you.”
The girl cast a discreet glance his way. “Did you see the way he shot that arrow? And of all the men in the village, he was the only one besides Aklaq to volunteer.”
“You should go talk to him,” Elice whispered.
Sakari started to shake her head but then must have changed her mind, because she straightened up, walked over to Tikaani, and sat beside him. She said something to him, and he gave her a shy smile.
Adar dropped down beside Elice and eyed her. “You’ve done something.”
She blinked at him. “What?”
“Definitely.” He nodded slowly. “You’ve got this look. Like you’ve slipped a beetle in the soup and no one’s noticed though half the pot is gone.”
Elice raised an eyebrow. “Do tribesmen eat beetles on purpose?”
“Not unless we have to. Or your older brother hides one in the stew.”
She couldn’t help but chuckle. “And you say raw meat is bad.”
“Hey! I didn’t actually eat the beetle,” Adar exclaimed. “Laleh did. Which is unfortunate because she was the baby, so she didn’t even know enough to squeal.”
Elice narrowed her gaze on him. “How did any of them trust you?”
Adar grinned. “They didn’t.”
She rolled her eyes. Then she made them another shelter and they all crowded around inside. Despite her fear, she immediately fell into an exhausted sleep. She didn’t even know until the next day that the highmen had kept watch in turns.
“This is our life,” Aklaq said when she muttered something about how she should have helped. “It is not so hard for us. Take your rest, daughter of winter.”
That morning, the group entered the mountain pass. A large river surged past them, silent under a thick layer of ice. As they climbed they passed ice-covered streams that flowed down from side canyons, feeding an ever-dwindling river. By mid-afternoon, they passed the summit, and the river disappeared altogether. It wasn’t long before more streams created a new river that traveled in the opposite direction of the first. It increased in size and speed the farther they went.
Wary, Elice watched the sky. Her mother had to know where they were now, but she hadn’t made a move to attack. No move to stop them even as the mountains grew in size, becoming mammoths that crowded in like an ever-tightening noose and forced the travelers onto the only path available to them—the river. So, they sliced across the snow-covered ice. Elice texturized the path as she ran beside the sled. The air sawed in and out of her lungs, and her body felt hot and disconnected, her lips tingling and numb. But unlike the last time she had faced off with her mother, Elice now knew she was at least as strong. She would hold her own, and she would keep her friends safe.
It was this awakening of power that allowed Elice to sense two things. First, the divide between winter and summer was close, and growing closer by the hour. She suspected that sometime the next day, they would cross it to safety. Second, she sensed how deep and swift the river churned below them. The two observations made her heart pound, for if her mother was to attack, it would be soon.
Therefore, when the lead dog’s hackles rose and it looked off to the right, Elice did too. The other dogs started to notice something, too, and one of them let out a low growl. “Something’s wrong,” Elice murmured to Aklaq.
He leaned forward and spoke low. “We’ll go faster if you get in the sled.”
She did as she was told, her eyes scanning the craggy surface of the mountain. Aklaq climbed on the back of the sled and called to his dogs. The animals strained against their harnesses, their tongues hanging out. They rushed up between the steep mountains. From the corner of her eye, Elice saw a movement through the boulders. She whipped around and thought she saw a streak of white, but it was gone before she could be sure.
“Can I kill them this time?” Aklaq asked.
Elice wasn’t sure what “them” was, but at this point it didn’t matter much. “Yes.”
He stepped onto the runners, drew his bow from its place beside her, and nocked three arrows. Elice strained to listen, to see, but she couldn’t hear anything over the whoosh of the runners.
Another streak, this time to her right. Her head whipped around, but whatever it had been was gone again. “What is it?” she whispered.
“Wolves,” Aklaq answered.
Elice’s heart began to pound. And she knew. Her mother had sent Lowl after her. Of course she had. The wolf fairy was her most cunning general. Elice opened herself to winter, glancing back to see Tikaani with his bow at the ready. Adar gripped the ice knife she’d given him. Sakari held a bone knife, her gaze fierce and eager.
And then something launched itself at Elice, teeth snapping around her overtunic. Even as she felt the fabric rip, she locked eyes with the fairy riding on the wolf’s back—Lowl. Elice sent a shock of cold into the animal, stopping its heart instantly. The wolf fairy only grinned viciously at her and flew backward. Fur exploded from the fairy’s body, and she grew in size until she was an enormous white wolf. She howled, long and loud.
Over a dozen wolves leapt from behind boulders, launching themselves at the dogs. Wolves and dogs collided in a snarling mass, biting and tearing at each other’s necks and flanks. Six wolves had attacked Aklaq’s dogs. Elice wanted to shoot her cold at the animals, but she couldn’t risk hitting the dogs. Aklaq launched himself in the midst of them, stabbing at the white fur of the wolves. Elice scrambled after him. She felt a moment of sorrow—these animals were being driven by the fairies, their will stripped away by their masters. And she was going to kill them for it.
She waited for an opening, then lunged to touch the animal’s flank, stopping its heart with cold. Aklaq had already stabbed one wolf, sending bright blood bursting from the animal’s white coat. Elice reached to touch another wolf just as the snarling animals turned. She felt an intense pressure in her hand and wasn’t sure which of the animals had clamped down on her, but just as quickly it released her.
She staggered forward and touched another wolf, killing it instantly. With four wolves now dead, the dogs had vastly superior numbers. The remaining two wolves darted back into the mountains, leaving a trail of blood on the bright-white snow. Aklaq dropped to the side of one of his dogs. The animal’s chest rose and fell as it panted. All the dogs were bleeding. One had an ear torn off.
Elice whipped around to check on the others. Adar and Sakari fended off their wolves and turned to help Tikaani. Elice took a step toward them, but then she saw them—a thousand ice fairies, their hands spread on the ice. Her gaze snapped to Lowl, who gave her a wolfish grin.
“Get off the ice!” Elice choked. “It was a diversion!” She felt Aklaq’s eyes on her, but she couldn’t look at him. Not when she could already feel the ice shattering under her feet. She channeled her power, driving it into the river, keeping it solid while the fairies worked against her—while her mother worked against her.
Adar hollered at the others and called to the dogs. Elice felt one of the sleds brush against her leg as it limped past. Beneath her, the ice cracked and splintered. She froze it back together. The fairies broke it apart. She froze it again. They broke it apart.
Elice was stronger than any one of them, but not all of them. She gave up trying to hold together anything but a bridge of ice leading to the riverbank. The rest of the ice fell away, revealing swift black water. Ahead of her, the men were coaxing the dogs, many of which were frozen in fear. Elice walked in a trail of their blood, ice falling away behind each of her steps.
The ice fairies converged, hundreds of them, all descending like a blizzard, for surely that’s all the highmen could see. The bridge was shrinking, thinning, and Elice wondered if her mother would let her die. If she was trying to kill her. “Hurry,” Elice gasped, sweat breaking out across her brow.
Aklaq was the first one onto the bank. Adar and Sakari were right behind him. Trailing in last was Tikaani. He was struggling with his dogs, which were balking and whining.
“I can’t hold it,” Elice cried.
Aklaq called out to him, “Leave the sled.”
Tikaani cut the tethers. Elice trembled as the ice shattered and reformed, shattered and reformed. Each time, Tikaani lost his balance, making his progress slower. And then all the thousand little cracks stopped and one speared through the ice, severing Tikaani and Elice from the bank. She drew hard on winter, trying to fill the gap, but she was too late. The floe broke free, wobbling precariously and picking up speed. She started to increase its size, but it slammed into a boulder sticking out of the river and nosedived.
Elice’s feet flew out from under her. Her hands whipped out and held onto the edge of the floe. For a split second Tikaani, still gripping his dogs, met her gaze, a calm knowing in his eyes. Then he skidded off the tipping ice and disappeared into the black water.
Elice stared in disbelief. From the shore, she was aware of shouting, but it seemed far away and unreachable. The ice floe dropped, water spilling over the side and drenching her, before twirling in a sickening circle.
She pulled herself to the edge and peered down, searching for any sign of Tikaani and preparing to form another ice floe under him the moment he surfaced. But the dark water revealed nothing of the terrified dogs or very brave young man. Elice thought of his mother and siblings, who had seen him off, and a chasm seemed to open up inside her. She ripped off her outer tunic and boots, formed a bubble around her head, and dove. She kicked downstream, searching the churning waters for Tikaani. She passed beneath the shadow of a layer of ice, the water turning even darker. Though she tried to control her respirations, they came fast. Elice was running out of air.
Remembering her newfound power, she lit up an aurora around her just in time to see herself rushing toward a huge boulder. She gathered her legs, trying to roll out of its path, but she broadsided it. All the air left her body in a whoosh. The ice bubble around her head shattered. She spun in a chaotic whirl of bubbles and water.
Her lungs ached, her body ached. Another moment and she would die. Elice did the only thing she could, surrounding herself with ice that floated into the shelf above her. She turned the ice above herself to snow and pushed herself out of the river that had become Tikaani’s grave. The moment she felt the kiss of the wind, she collapsed, gasping and sobbing as the water soaking her clothes froze to the icy layer of snow.
She heard steps pounding toward her, felt the spray of snow as the person knelt beside her. Adar gathered her into his arms as the ice broke painfully around her. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought you were gone.”
“Tikaani,” she wailed.
Adar squeezed her hard, so hard it hurt. “I know. But he’s been under too long. He’s drowned by now, Elly.”
She looked past Adar’s shoulder and saw Aklaq on shore, surrounded by his loose dogs. “Hurry, before the ice breaks again.”
Adar scooped her into his arms and ran for the embankment.
“Your shoulder!” Elice cried.
He only hitched her higher in his arms. They reached the shore that hugged the side of the mountain. She looked around for Sakari, but didn’t see her. Elice had only a moment to worry for her friend before the ground pitched fiercely. Rocks broke loose from the sheer cliff, pelting the ground. Adar and Elice were thrown onto a mound of snow, Adar landing on top of her. The ground heaved beneath them, and snow forced itself into Elice’s mouth. She choked, coughing and gasping for breath. Adar flipped over and scooted them both under an overhang of rock. Aklaq quickly followed. Snow shook loose from the cliff, sealing them inside.
“What was that?” Elice gasped.
“Earth tremors. They get worse every time,” Aklaq said.
Elice flooded the darkness with an aurora. “Where’s Sakari?”
Aklaq glanced at the aurora and then glared at the sealed-off entrance. “She went downriver, looking for Tikaani.”
Elice buried her head in Adar’s chest. He bit off his mittens and began checking her for injuries. “Are you hurt?”
The pain came then, an ache along her left side, spreading to her back. But it wasn’t worth mentioning, not after . . . “Tikaani—my fault,” Elice mumbled.
Aklaq didn’t meet her gaze. “He died a warrior defending his dogs. It was a good death.”
“I tried to save him, but I couldn’t find him. I couldn’t—” Elice choked on a sob.
“All highmen know the water means death,” Aklaq said. “You saved me, and you saved Adar.”
“But no one would’ve have been in danger in the first place if—”
“Stop!” Aklaq commanded. “Do not cheapen Tikaani’s death by taking credit for it. The bravery is his.” The shaking stopped abruptly, and the Svass turned away from Elice. “I’m going back for Sakari.” He dug his way outside, leaving Adar and Elice alone.
“They can’t swim,” Adar said in awe. “Of course they can’t. How could they ever learn in such frigid waters? But they still go out on those tiny kayaks and chase down whales.”
Elice tried to swallow her tears. “Adar?”
He pulled her into his arms and held her so tight she thought he might be the only thing holding her together. “Quiet now. Aklaq is right. Tikaani chose to fight in the face of his fear. You did everything you could to save him.”
“Your shoulder?” she managed.
“It’s fine. I’m fine. Come on. We need to help Aklaq look for Sakari.” Adar crawled out, Elice right behind him. Immediately, a snowstorm enveloped them. She briefly considered splitting up but remembered the wolves. What if they attacked again? She and Adar hurried along the river, frantically searching for Sakari.
“Elice,” Adar said after a while, “I don’t think we can make it. Not if your mother isn’t above killing you as well.” He hesitated a moment. “Maybe you should stop. With Aklaq and Sakari, I can get out of here on my own.”
She stared at him. “You think my mother would stop hunting you simply because I stayed behind? Because I don’t.”
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He was silent for a beat. “One of us should survive this.”
Elice paused, closing her eyes to concentrate on the border between winter and summer. “We’re close, Adar—so close I can feel it. I think it’s just on the other side of this mountain.” She glanced up to find him watching her. “If I give up now, I’ll never forgive myself. I can’t make you come with me. Just like you can’t make me stay.”
He pursed his lips and gave a curt nod. Shielding their eyes, they saw the others approaching from downstream, the dogs a huddled mass around them. Letting out a great sigh of relief, Elice hurried toward them. Sakari met her halfway, and suddenly their arms were around each other and they were both crying, snow and tears mixing on their faces. Elice ached with the loss of Tikaani and was glad for the comfort of her friend’s embrace. In that moment she realized something. She had friends. People who cared about her. People who had risked their lives to help her. They were good and strong and brave—everything her mother had said they weren’t.
“I’m sorry,” Elice whispered, guilt stabbing her again.
“You did everything you could,” Sakari whispered with a squeeze.
“How much farther do these mountains go?” Adar asked Aklaq.
“We’re nearly there. We’ve already passed the summit. From here on out, the descent is relatively short but very steep. A day or day and a half, depending on this storm. Beyond that is the tundra where the caribou graze in the high summer.”
Elice and Sakari released each other. “I think . . .” Elice bit the inside of her cheek. “If we can just get past this mountain.”
“The dogs.” Aklaq gestured to the injured animals around him. “They cannot pull the sled.”
Elice steeled herself. It was up to her to get them to safety. “Aklaq, you have already risked so much, given so much. Stay here, let the dogs recover, and then go into the grazing grounds and hunt for your family. Sakari, stay with him. Continue on when it’s safer.”
Aklaq dropped his head. “As you say.”