by Amber Argyle
On the fifth day they reached the coast, where the gray ocean spread before them, its matte surface unmarred by a single piece of ice. As they traveled along the windy shore, Adar kept his head tucked in his hood, wondering how he was ever going to make any of this right.
He was so deep in thought he didn’t notice Elice until she was tugging at his sleeve. “I said, what is that?”
He looked around, realizing Sakari had gone off somewhere. The hilly land surrounded a picturesque little bay. Adar followed Elice’s gesture to see something dark and heavily textured on one side. “Trees.”
She squealed in delight and took off running. Adar watched her, black hair streaming behind her as she raced up the coast. When she realized he wasn’t following, she spun back, her hair flaring around her radiant face. “Adar, I’m going to see real trees!”
He couldn’t help but smile, his insides nearly bursting to see her so happy. He wanted nothing more than to make her that happy for the rest of his life. But then his grin slipped off, because he couldn’t deny it anymore. He loved her. So much it hurt.
Elice sprinted ahead, barely daring to blink as she watched the dark texture take on a green tint. Appearing between the trunks were clumps of white, which she gradually recognized as patches of snow, preserved by the shade of the trees. She imagined she could smell them—the sharp sweet smell her grandfather had told her about.
Then she could make out their branches, coated with dark-green needles that looked like rime frost, formed when wind drove freezing fog and left behind needlelike projections, almost like thousands of little spears. When Elice stood before them, she gazed up at their impressive height, awestruck.
She stepped forward as if in a trance, took hold of a branch, and pulled off some of the needles. She inhaled the fragrance. It was sharp and deep, just like her grandfather had said. She wished he was with her now—he must miss the outside world so terribly. She tucked the needles into the front of her robes and held her fingers by her nose, inhaling the scent lingering on her fingers.
“We can camp here for tonight,” Adar said.
Elice turned to see Adar behind her, watching her sadly. Wanting him to feel some of the joy bursting through her, she took hold of his hand and they wandered through the conifer forest with its springy floor of pine needles. She could still taste winter here. And if she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend she was back in her own forest, her grandfather just out of sight.
They built another fire in an empty space between the trees and the ocean. Sakari had found some fresh leaves with a strange, crunchy texture, and a stillborn, freshly-dead caribou calf that they roasted over the fire.
Elice tried many times to get Adar to talk to her, but he kept giving her single-syllable answers before staring off into the dark forest again. Sakari was quiet, too. Elice wanted nothing more than to share the magic of sleeping before a real forest, but her friends seemed too preoccupied.
Giving up on Adar, she sat beside Sakari and asked, “What’s the matter?”
Sakari’s brows furrowed. “I hurried ahead this morning because I thought I recognized this place. I thought there was a village nearby that I used to visit as a child. But instead I found this bay. So now I’m not sure where we are.”
Elice looked around, noting the way the light reflected off the gentle waves. “We’re bound to get there soon.”
Sakari swallowed. “That’s part of what makes me so scared. I’ve been gone nearly five years. A lot can change in that much time. What if my grandparents are dead? What if they don’t want me? What if I came all this way only to find I was running toward nothing?”
“Love isn’t something that fades with time. It just grows sharper with longing.” Elice looped her arm through Sakari’s. “And if they are gone, you can come with me to the clanlands.”
Sakari’s gaze shifted to Adar. “I would be in the way.” Elice shot her an annoyed glance. Sakari threw up her hands. “I’ve seen the way you two look at each other.”
Elice sighed. “He’s been . . . different since we passed into summer. Each day it feels like he’s withdrawing a little more.”
Sakari took a deep breath. “It will sort itself out.”
“And if I don’t want to go with him to the desert?”
“You don’t have to decide today.” Sakari rose to her feet and held out a hand. “I’m going to bed. You coming?”
Elice stared out over the water. “Not yet. I want to go for a swim first.”
After Sakari slipped out of sight, Elice stripped down to her underdress. She moved to where the water lapped against her toes, the frigid kiss like coming home. After encasing her head in an ice bubble, she picked up a rock and slipped into the briny water.
What she saw surprised her. There were trees under the water—she hadn’t known they grew there. She formed flippers and kicked through the trees, which looked just like the conifer forest she’d seen before. She reached out to break off some needles, but instead of snapping off in her hand, they were soft and flexible—almost spongy.
Elice kept swimming, shocked to see flowering plants and grass and lichen just like on shore. She didn’t know the seabed outside of her palace, but something about this felt wrong, unnatural.
She swam on and was studying the swaying grass before her when she bumped into something. She hauled herself back and looked up. And screamed. She dropped her rock and hauled herself back, arms and legs franticly pumping. Before her was a young girl of maybe seven. Her eyes were open and sightless, her thick hair shifting with the currents. Her skin was just beginning to slough off. Beyond the girl was a whole village, houses still standing. There were caribou and dogs and hundreds of people—all of them dead.
Heart pounding, Elice kicked hard for the distant surface. The moment she reached it, her ice bubble shattered and she started screaming, kicking for the shore as she went.
Adar and Sakari sprang up and ran halfway out into the water. “Elice!” Adar cried.
She was sobbing so hard she could barely swim. He dove in after her while Sakari paced and wrung her hands. Elice tried to swim toward Adar, but she kept imagining the dead below her. Imagining them reaching for her with their too-pale hands, the skin falling off.
She went under, choking on her sobs, clawing at the ocean that refused to let her go. And then Adar’s arms were around her. He pulled her up above the water, his arm pinned around her chest. “Hang on.”
She sank against his warm skin as he kicked for shore. When it was deep enough to stand, Sakari met them to help take Elice to the fire. Sakari scoured her dry with her caribou coat and then flipped it inside out and rested it against her. Then she started rubbing Elice’s arms. Elice didn’t need the warmth, but she was desperate for the comfort.
Adar threw more wood on the fire, and suddenly it surged hot and bright. He turned to Elice and asked, “What happened?”
Shivering, she looked into Sakari’s eyes. “You were right. This is where the village was. It’s still there. Just beneath the surface.”
Elice was subdued the next day. Though she didn’t need the warmth, she had Sakari’s coat wrapped tightly around her for the comfort it offered. Adar stayed at Elice’s side, his expression closed off. Elice didn’t understand his standoffishness. And she was too shaken to try to draw him out. Sakari scouted ahead, desperate for signs of the village she remembered from childhood. Unspoken between the three friends was the fear that Sakari’s village had been destroyed, just like the last one.
The landscape had grown steadily hillier, almost mountainous, and the forests were thick now. Elice, Adar, and Sakari climbed one last hill and finally glimpsed a village beside a river. They started their descent and soon could see the details of the village’s log houses. When they were close enough to start making out faces, Sakari froze, her chest heaving. She whirled around to meet Elice’s gaze. “That house—the closest one to us and the river—is my grandparents’ house!” Sakari turned back, trembling with exci
tement. “And that’s them!”
She took off, calling her grandparents’ names. Two gray-haired people glanced up from their garden, shading their eyes against the glare. The woman dropped her basket and rushed forward, the man close behind. They wrapped Sakari in their arms and murmured happily to her in Svass.
When Sakari’s grandparents asked about her father, mother, and younger brothers, she started crying. Her grandparents joined in the mourning. Elice felt like an intruder here. She started backing away and soon she and Adar wandered to the river and sat on the bank, the rushing sound of the water soothing her senses.
After a few minutes, Adar spoke. “If you could have saved Sakari’s family, or that village we saw yesterday, would you?”
“Of course,” Elice replied.
He stared at his clasped hands. “What if you had to risk your own life to do it?”
“Isn’t that what I did when I saved Aklaq’s village?” Elice wondered what he was getting at.
Adar finally met her gaze. “What if you could save a hundred thousand villages? What if to do that, all you had to do was sacrifice someone you loved?”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“What if the Sundering is real, Elice? What would you give up to save all these people from dying?”
Her mouth fell open, but she couldn’t think of the words to fill it. She shook her head and tried again. “If it was real, I don’t know.”
His head fell forward, as if it were too heavy to hold up.
She rested a hand on his back. “Adar? What is it?”
Elice turned at the sound of someone coming through the brush. Sakari appeared, giving them a watery smile. “I want you to meet my grandparents.”
Feeling hesitant, Elice turned back to Adar. He gave her a halfhearted smile. “Come on. We traveled all this way to see Sakari safely with her family. Can’t miss it now.”
Back at the little log cabin, Elice and Adar were introduced to Sakari’s grandparents, Yalgar and Mab. The inside of their cabin was dark and smoky and smelled like fish. Mab fed them fish stew flavored with spring onions. From her place beside Sakari, Elice said, “You’re staying.” It was not a question. She could see the relief in the other girl’s expression.
Sakari rested her forehead on Elice’s shoulder. “I’m not choking on ashes anymore. A lot of that has to do with your friendship. I don’t want you to leave me, but this is my home—as the forever ice never was.”
Elice laid her head on top of Sakari’s. “I think the Shyle might be that for me—though I have never been there.”
“Places keep pieces of us, like roots planted in soil. We can take a seed somewhere else, but our roots remain.”
“Trees don’t grow in the queendom.” Elice knew the forest she had created was nothing but an illusion, a poor mimic of reality. But her grandfather had planted her roots deep in the Shyle in a way she would never be rooted in the queendom.
“I know,” Sakari said.
Elice looked up. “Where did Adar go?”
Sakari followed her gaze. “He must’ve slipped out. Something’s . . . off about him lately.”
Elice could only nod in agreement.
The next few hours passed in a blur of Sakari’s extended family members. They all brought Sakari gifts—useful things like hide clothing, a serviceable knife, and even a black pot. It was dark but warm inside the cabin, and Elice felt more at ease knowing the fairies wouldn’t bother her in her sleep because of the smoke. She realized she hadn’t seen a single summer fairy yet, which seemed odd, since summer supported much more life than winter did. Then again she’d never been inside summer before. Maybe fairies were different here. Maybe her Sight only worked with winter fairies. She determined to ask Adar tomorrow and promptly fell asleep.
When Elice woke the next morning, he was tugging his shirt over his bare chest. He grabbed a slice of bread from the table and headed for the door. She propped herself up on one elbow. “Where are you headed this early?” she whispered so as not to wake the others.
Adar started and glanced back at her. “I’ve been seeing about passage out of Svass.”
She yawned. “We haven’t discussed whether we’re leaving yet. I’d like to stay with Sakari for a while.”
“Spend the day with her. Have fun. I’ll see you again tonight.”
Elice started to protest, but Adar opened the door and slipped away before she got the words out. She cast an annoyed look at the closed door, then pushed her way out of the blankets and took a slice of bread and dried fish for her breakfast. As she ate, she glanced around the single room, at the old couple near the fire. At Sakari’s serene face.
Wanting to thank these people for their kindness and give Sakari something to remember her by, Elice set aside her half-finished meal. Her fingers remembered how to fold and bend the ice, how to shape it. On her first try, she had a tree nearly the length of her arm with strong roots. She tied the ice’s connection to winter, so it would never melt. Then she studied her creation. It was beautiful and proportional, with the intricate roots from which the tree stood as the focal point.
Satisfied, Elice picked up her bread and fish and leaned back. But before she could take another bite, something caught the corner of her eye. She turned to find the old couple and Sakari sitting up in their furs, watching her.
Mab pressed a hand to her chest. “Who have you brought us, Sakari?”
Sakari answered, “Elice is the daughter of winter.”
Elice tensed, waiting for the same anger she’d seen from Aklaq’s village. But Yalgar only inclined his head. “You are most welcome, daughter of winter.”
She gave a small smile. “I made this for you,” she said to Sakari. “It will never melt.”
“The roots,” Sakari replied, her eyes shining. She pushed back her furs and hurried over to embrace Elice.
“Well, the least I can do after such a gift is make you a fine breakfast,” Mab declared.
They ate fried fish and cooked greens for breakfast. Elice told Sakari’s family what the Winter Palace looked like. Then Sakari and Elice stepped into the early morning sunshine.
Elice couldn’t help but look around for Adar, but he was nowhere to be seen. Sakari took Elice’s hand and they hurried to the other side of the village. Beyond the forest was an open tundra. A dozen boys mounted on caribou tended the villagers’ herd.
Elice gaped at them. “I didn’t know people rode caribou!”
Sakari grinned. “Want to try?”
Elice bit the inside of her cheek. “Yes.”
The boys eagerly agreed, showing Elice how to steer with the reins attached to a hackamore, which they explained was like a bridle but without the metal piece that went in the animal’s mouth. But she hesitated before climbing into the vibrant cloth-covered saddle. “What if I get impaled by the antlers?”
Sakari laughed. “You wanted to experience summer, remember?”
Not entirely convinced, Elice put her left foot in the stirrup and mounted the beast. As one of the boys led the caribou around, Elice’s body rocked back and forth with the animal’s gait. Grateful the caribou hadn’t reared back to stab her with an antler, she reached down and patted its fur, which felt rough and spindly with a downy layer beneath. She was surprised by the clicking sound the reindeer’s legs made with each step.
Just when Elice was starting to relax a little, the boy handed her the reins and smacked the caribou’s backside, sending it running across the tundra. Elice clung to the reins as she was violently tossed from side to side on the saddle. Then she gave up and bailed off. She hit the ground hard.
She waited for a moment to see if anything hurt, but the spongy ground had softened her fall. She looked up in time to see Sakari smack the grin off the boy’s face. Then Sakari came to help Elice to her feet. “Are you all right?”
Elice brushed herself off, then held out a palm and filled it with swirls of snow. “Should I freeze him?”
The boy ga
ped at her, turned on his heel, and ran. Elice waited as long as she could before bursting into laughter. Sakari joined in and managed to say, “He won’t try that again.”
Elice looked after the retreating caribou. “How will he ever catch it?”
“That’s his problem.” Sakari chuckled.
Back at the village, strings of rope were being set out with wood beneath them to smoke fish. Apparently, the salmon run would start any day. The fish would surge into the bay and up the rivers. People would catch them by the hundreds and dry them over the fires, or pack them in sealskins sealed up with fat. According to Sakari, the fermented results of packing the fish were delicious.
Thinking of the delicious fish stew she’d had yesterday, Elice planned to eat until her belly burst. More than one woman had commented that it was time to put on her summer fat. Elice wandered along the bay, watching for the fish. Across the wide river, she noticed large brown bears waiting as well. When she expressed concern to Mab, the old woman smiled and said, “They have their side of the river and we have ours. But if you do happen upon one, just back away slowly. They’re here for the fish, not us.”
Everyone in the cabin was awakened very early the next morning by shouts of excitement. Adar was there—Elice had only seen him in passing yesterday. She briefly wondered if he was ignoring her, but the three Svass were already hurrying out of the house.
She hustled after them and moved to Adar’s side. “Are you avoiding me?”
He shot her a confused look. “What? No, I just thought you’d want to spend as much time with Sakari as possible before we leave.”
Elice frowned. “I haven’t said I’m coming with you. And it’s not like you aren’t her friend too.”
He pointed. “Look at that.”
Frustrated that he’d changed the subject, Elice followed his gaze to see the river teeming with fish.
“Come on!” Adar jogged ahead, joining the rush of people heading to the river.
She stared after him before throwing her hands in the air and hurrying after him. She worked with Mab, Yalgar, Sakari, and Adar, spreading wide nets that were almost instantly filled. The writhing fish were hauled back and dumped on the shore, where villagers went about clubbing the fishes’ heads. They placed the catch on long tables, where the women filleted and boned the fish, then laid them out on drying racks. Everyone worked all day, until the salmon racks were filled.