by Amber Argyle
With Seneth’s aid, Otec lifted Matka into his arms. Her head came to rest against his chest. “I promised Holla I’d look after you.” The words nearly broke him. But he held himself together. He still had his family to save. “Please don’t die.”
Seneth stepped back, his penetrating gaze on Otec. “You care for her,” the older man said. When Otec didn’t deny it, Seneth offered, “I’ll handle everything tonight.”
Otec nodded gratefully and trudged through the snow to the hollow clan house.
“But Otec?”
He paused and looked back at Seneth.
“Tomorrow, you’ll have to be the clan chief again.”
“Yes.” Otec paused. “Stay in the Bends’ house. It looks intact and has enough room.”
In the clan-house kitchen, Otec lit a fire and built it up until it roared, then placed Matka as close to it as he dared. He shut the door to the great hall and stuffed blankets from the bedrooms under the door. He washed Matka’s face and hands with hot water and an extra blanket, then wrapped her in his own furs.
In the cellar, he stepped carefully over broken pots of dried herbs and righted barrels empty of the apples that should have seen his family through the winter. He ate some cheese he’d found under a tipped-over stool. Matka started to shiver, so he made some hot tea and got her to swallow some. Her color seemed better after that.
Despite the eerie silence, Otec couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. He lay down beside Matka and curled around her shivering body to comfort himself and warm her. He fell quickly asleep.
When he awoke later, his whole body was stiff and aching. It was still dark out. He sat up to see Matka staring at the ceiling, her hands clutching the furs spread over both of their bodies. Her vacant expression nearly destroyed him. He didn’t think he could bear it if the Raiders had broken her mind.
“Matka?” he said hesitantly.
“They took Holla,” she replied in a monotone, her expression frozen in place. “They took all of them.”
Otec reached over her to toss more logs into the embers. “They were alive?”
Matka didn’t respond at first. “Your mother died fighting them. But the rest, yes.”
His father had been right. “What did they do with her body?”
“They burned them,” Matka said softly. “It’s how the Idarans deal with all their dead.”
A sob hitched in Otec’s throat. The ice encasing his emotions shattered at once, flooding him with such grief he couldn’t bear it. Matka held his hand until Otec managed to swallow his sobs and ask, “Why did they leave you behind?”
She stared at the ceiling. “Tyleze threw me in with the clan. They would have killed me. But Holla wouldn’t let them. When Tyleze came for my body and found me alive instead, he hauled me into the meat shed.” Her whole body trembled as if the memories were trying to break their way out of her skin.
“Because despite all they had done to me, they dared not kill me and they dared not take me with them. They knew if they did, I’d find a way to kill them. And they were right.” Matka let out a shaky breath. “So they decided to leave me in the cold, to let the Goddess of Winter finish me off.”
A single tear rolled down her bruised cheek. “Jore is dead, isn’t he?” Otec could only nod. She closed her eyes, biting her bottom lip. “I knew when I woke up and saw you instead of him that he was gone.”
“I’m sorry.”
She had no idea how sorry Otec was, but he couldn’t tell her he’d killed her brother. She’d hate him for it, and he couldn’t bear that.
Matka pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and sobbed. Now it was Otec’s turn to comfort her. When she’d calmed down, he found a pot of grains on one of the shelves and made them some gruel and fried pork belly.
Then they slept again.
Otec woke before dawn and began to gather his winter gear. He stepped into the kitchen to find Matka standing with her back to him before a bowl of steaming water, a soapy rag in her hand. He got a good look at the bloody welts criss-crossing her back before she shoved her arms into her tattered tunic and pulled it over her shoulders.
Feeling the urge to kill whatever man had done that to her, Otec dumped his gear by one of the chairs and began the arduous task of putting it on. “Take whatever you need,” he told Matka. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
She dropped the rag in the water with a splash. “I’m coming with you.”
“Matka—”
“It’s my fault!” She braced herself against the table. “If I hadn’t trusted Tyleze, if I would have warned your family, the village could have fled in the night. Or maybe someone could have gone for help. Something . . .”
Otec studied this woman, took in her betrayal—consciously done or not—and was surprised he had only compassion for her. Would she feel the same if she knew he had killed her brother? For the briefest moment, he considered telling her. But what good would it do? Jore was dead. Otec’s father was dead. Nothing could change that. Telling Matka would only increase her pain.
Otec determined then that it was a burden he would bear alone. He reached out, taking her hand. “If I would have stayed, maybe I could have helped them get away. Or I could have died in the attack.” He shook his head, desperately wanting her to understand what he couldn’t say. “We have to let this go.”
“I’m coming with you,” she said firmly. “If I slow you down, you can leave me behind.”
Otec studied her haunted expression and realized she would never forgive herself if she didn’t do this. “All right. Finish washing your wounds—Mother always said that was important to preventing blood poisoning.” He stumbled back from the table that was still sticky and smelled like apples.
He paused before the door to tie on his snowshoes. “Take what you need and try to find us some more food. I’ll be back for you.”
Matka nodded wordlessly.
Otec stepped out into a full-on blizzard and made his way to the Bends’ house—it was one of the few that still seemed perfectly intact. He opened the door to find the floor covered with a mixture of Argon and Shyle clanmen sleeping in neat rows and columns. “Up!” he called to them. “Go through all the houses and find winter gear and food. We’re leaving at daybreak.” The men hauled themselves to their feet.
Pushing pale blond hair out of his face, Destin shot Otec a disapproving look. But with nothing to argue about, he gathered up his things and went with the others.
Seneth watched Otec from his place beside the fire. Judging by his bloodshot eyes, Seneth hadn’t slept yet. Otec made his way toward him, when someone shouted his name.
“Dobber?” Otec said.
The other man enveloped Otec in a hug. “You’re alive, Dobber! How?” He’d thought all the men in the Shyle at the time of the Raiders’ attack were dead.
Dobber pushed back, tears pooling in his eyes. “My father and I tried to fight them off. When I woke up, my house was burning and it was over. All I could do was hide.”
“What about your family?”
Dobber shook his head. “My father is dead. The rest were taken.”
Otec squeezed his shoulders. “We’ll get them back.”
After a moment, Dobber nodded wordlessly.
“Go into my family’s meat shed,” Otec said. “See if you can find any food the Raiders left behind.”
Dobber turned to go.
Seneth motioned Otec over to the fire and said, “Dozens of your women escaped into the forests. Most fled to the summer homes higher up the mountains. There’s no way of knowing for sure how many until the storm breaks.”
Otec sank into a chair. Already he was feeling too hot in his winter gear. “And the Raiders?”
Seneth leaned forward. “The story I’ve pieced together is that they fled with their captives as soon as we defeated the Idarans in the pass, though I’m not sure how they knew.”
Otec studied the storm through the bubbled glass of a small window. “We’ll catch up
to them.”
Seneth tossed a log onto the embers, then prodded it with a stick to get it to start up again, but the wood was wet and stubborn. “Otec, our orders were to stop the threat to our northern borders. After that, we were to return and support the cities still under attack.”
Otec blinked at Seneth, not believing what he was hearing. “You want us to abandon our women and children to them?”
Seneth blew out through his nose. “They started up yesterday just after daybreak. They took all the horses and wagons, so they were probably moving pretty fast. The storm came from the south, so if they beat it over the summit, they’re probably safely on the other side. And if they didn’t . . .”
“They’re trapped in this storm,” Otec finished for him.
“And right now, the snow’s too deep for the horses to break through. Your only option to go after them is snowshoes.” Seneth’s eyes were full of compassion. “What’s on the other side of the pass, Otec?”
Otec watched the steam sizzling out of the log that refused to burn. He’d traveled Shyle Pass with the sheep before, but never beyond. “The sheer cliffs of Darbenmore . . . the only ones who can navigate those cliffs are Darbens.” The Darbens had built their village into recessions in the cliffs. They were a solitary lot, living off the sea and a few crops they grew on the mountainsides.
“And apparently very, very desperate Raiders,” Seneth said darkly. He poked the stubborn log again.
Otec closed his eyes and spoke low. “Seneth, I don’t know if the Shyle will follow me without your support.”
Seneth tossed away the poker, which clattered loudly on the floor. “I can’t risk my family’s safety any more than you can. If the clan lands fall, so will they.”
Otec stared at the smoking piece of wood. “Destin already told me he’d do a better job of leading.”
Seneth grunted. “Had it been up to him, we would have spent the night freezing in the middle of the canyon and you would be another day behind your women and children.”
Otec watched the log finally catch fire. “Go, Seneth. Your place is defending your family. As is mine.”
Seneth lifted haunted eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Otec rose to his feet, sweat building up under his clothing. “I have a hundred clanmen, more than enough on my own. Know that the Shyle will always be in your debt. A debt we will repay if ever you need us.”
He turned around before the other man could see the emotions in his face, then stepped outside and helped his men find gear and food. When they had finished, the sun was cresting the mountaintops.
Otec looked his men over. They wore mismatched gear and bedrolls packed with supplies. But their faces were determined. Dobber nodded to him.
Otec nodded back and then headed toward the front of the Shyle men. They watched him warily. But no one argued or tried to usurp him.
Someone touched his arm and he turned to find Ivar and the twins behind him. “We’re going with you.”
Otec shot a look back at Seneth, who merely waved him on. “They insisted,” he called, smiling. “I think they’re more your men than mine now.”
Otec nodded. Though they were just boys, he was grateful to at least have some allies.
He didn’t have to fetch Matka. She was already waiting for him in front of the clan house doors, her swords gleaming silver at her back. Grumbles turned to shouts of outrage.
Destin started past Otec, but he grabbed the man’s arm. “She was their slave,” he said firmly. “She did not know of their plans. And she saved me from them so that I might warn everyone.”
Destin glared at him. “She was the one writing that book—doesn’t sound like a slave to me.”
Otec studied the men behind him, saw their hatred, and knew that they did not believe him. “Show them your back,” he said.
Matka’s gaze shot to him, anger and humiliation flashing in turns across her face. But she dropped her swords and bedroll. Then her coat. Then she turned and lifted her shirt, exposing the cuts and bruises across her skin.
“By the Balance,” Ivar said.
Shivering, Matka shoved her shirt down and turned to face the men, her clothes already laced with snow. “They killed my mother and my sister. If I can, I will spare you my fate.”
“Wasn’t one of them your brother?” Destin said, but the heat was gone from his voice.
“He was the one who did that to me,” she answered.
“You could have fought your way free,” he pointed out. “It’s not like you were never alone.”
“They would have killed my other sister if I’d rebelled—she’s still in Idara.” That wasn’t exactly true, but Otec knew she couldn’t tell the clanmen she was hoping the Raiders had changed their minds.
Destin hesitated before stepping forward, picking up her coat off the ground, and handing it to her. “You could have told us at any time, and we would have helped you.”
“I believe that now.” Matka looked at Otec as she said this. She pushed her arms into the coat and fixed the toggles at the front.
Otec handed her the bedroll and swords. “Are you sure you’re up for this? Yesterday you were nearly dead.”
She glanced up as the owl passed overhead. “You don’t need to worry. They’re not done with me yet.”
She strode away. He watched her, shivering as he remembered his curse and the fairy’s promise.
They crossed the summit just before nightfall and descended rapidly. Just before full dark, Otec found what he’d been looking for—a cave. It was occupied. But even a bear didn’t stand much chance against a hundred clanmen.
In the cave, which seemed to be made of columns of receding rock, they roasted bear meat over a roaring fire. No one spoke much. Otec lay down next to Ivar and the twins, who immediately fell asleep.
The ground was full of rocks. Otec could normally sleep anywhere, but he couldn’t stop worrying about his family. He even wondered what had happened to his dog, Freckles, and then decided he’d rather not know. He didn’t miss Thistle, though. If the Raiders stole her, they were at the losing end of the bargain.
He finally gave up and went to the cave mouth. Matka was there, the light from the small fire she’d lit highlighting the planes of her face as she chewed on her nails. Otec sat beside her.
“On summer nights,” she whispered, “the nights are shadow upon shadow. But in the winter, the snow changes everything, reflecting the silver moonlight. Instead of shades of evergreen and slate, the hue is the blue-gray of smoke. I wish I had my charcoals.”
Otec watched her hands twitch and knew the itch to create something was just under her skin. “The fairy—how long has it been following you?”
“Do not say it out loud!” she whispered harshly.
He scooted closer. “She already knows you can see her.”
Matka drew in a ragged breath. “How do you—”
“She spoke to me.”
“What?” Matka gasped. Her head whipped around, but her face was cast in shadow so Otec couldn’t see her expression. “But men never see them!”
Jerking his head toward the sleeping clanmen, he shushed her. She nodded and leaned toward her small fire, motioning for him to come closer. “They don’t like smoke.”
“Why?”
She looked away, fiddling with a torn fingernail. “She’s been following me since I was a child, but she never spoke to me before the night she warned me that Immortals were near.”
Otec sat back. “So that’s how you knew the Raiders were there.” She nodded. “And the fires—the luminash?”
Matka tore off a piece of her fingernail and spit it into the fire before starting on another one. “I asked her for help—I knew I’d never get you free otherwise.”
“But I thought you said they were tricksy and cruel?”
In a jerky motion, Matka bit off another piece of nail, this time drawing blood. She didn’t seem to notice. “I made them a deal.”
Otec leaned forward, taking her arm i
n his hand. “What? What is it?”
She wiped the blood onto her furs, then sat on her hands. “It doesn’t matter. It’s done now, and it won’t come to pass anyway. I’ll make sure of that.”
His brow furrowed. “What won’t come to pass?”
She shook him off and rose to her feet. “It doesn’t matter.” She lifted up the edge of her blankets and climbed inside.
He watched her turn her back to him. “Matka, could they help us save my family?”
She glanced back at him, the light from the fire casting dark hollows under her eyes. “I have nothing left to bargain with. They’ve taken everything I have.” She rolled back over, tugging the furs over her head.
“What about me?” Otec asked softly. “What can I offer them?”
“There’s nothing more they want from you,” came the muffled response from under the blankets.
“Do you swear it?”
“I do,” she answered.
He believed her. He wanted to go to her, to hold her as he had that night at the clan house. But judging by the stiff set of her shoulders, she wouldn’t let him.
At first light, the company of Shyle clanmen continued down the pass. With the sun came warmth, which softened the snow into slush that quickly turned to mud. Without fresh snow to cover the tracks, evidence of their families and their captors became more abundant. Otec froze at the sight of a half-buried piece of wood. He wouldn’t have noticed it at all, except for the familiar blond color of fresh wood.
He crouched down and pulled the carving from the sticky mud. Then he took a bit of snow from the shade under a bush and scrubbed the white crystals across the ruined surface.
It was a beaver—the beaver he’d carved for Holla. Split exactly down the middle, the edges too cleanly cut to have been made by anything but a blade. Otec’s eyes darted around, looking for any signs of blood.
“Something happened here. Something bad,” he murmured to Matka as she knelt beside him. He took a deep breath and thought he could smell fish and smoke on the breeze. He rose, his knees cracking, to face his clanmen. “If the Raiders manage to escape across the sea, they’ll be beyond our reach. Come on.”