by Dawn Steele
“I’ve never seen the Aurora,” Ghost replied with a straight face, “so you better ask Mr. ‘I Know Everything in Lapland’ here.”
“Whoa, your cactus prickles are beginning to show, Assassin Girl,” Gustav said, “I didn’t say I knew everything in Lapland. I just got here, so give me a couple of months, give or take a few days. But to answer your question, yes. The moon may be obscured by the Aurora. The Roman calendar is a better bet to go by if you want Aein’s exact date.”
“I don’t think Aein’s people knew the Romans,” Snow White said. The wind was too mournful in her ears for comfort.
Every morning when she woke up, more hairs appeared on her pillow. In the mirror, bald spots began to form on her scalp. Snow White was not normally conscious of her appearance, but this opened a whole plethora of anxiety-riddled concerns. She found herself combing her hair in imaginative ways to hide the spots. In the end, she wrapped her head in a scarf the way she had seen the Bambenga do.
Additionally, her nails were becoming splintered. When she bumped into things, she no longer bruised or felt pain. She could ride for long distances without tiring. She ate less, felt hungry and thirsty less. Her vision became sharper, her sense of smell keener. And with all that, an escalating alarm that she was turning more insect than human.
What then of the babe that grew within her womb? What would it resemble? Every time she contemplated it, the dread began to churn in her stomach just above the receptacle that held the unformed child. Or perhaps it was pregnancy nausea, she couldn’t tell which.
She tossed and turned over it several nights, the way one would worry about an incurable disease. In the end, she forced herself to concentrate on the matter at hand.
Mt. Nordstrom was fast approaching.
#
Alone in a glen, Snow White chanced upon a beehive hanging from a low branch.
“Oh!” she exclaimed in delight as the bees streamed out from the hive and alighted on her arms and face. More buzzed around her thinning scalp and covered it like a living wig. They piled on top of one another in slathers so that they were four or five thick.
A yell splintered the air behind her. “Don’t move! Stay there with your feet planted to the ground!”
Snow White turned to see the panic-stricken King bearing down the slope, waving his arms. As he approached, his footsteps slowed.
“Easy,” he said, holding his palms up like a shield, “easy does it.” He took one tentative step, and then another.
“It’s OK,” Snow White said amid the bees crawling on her chin. “They’re friendly. Look.” She held out her bee-covered arms.
With an angry buzz, the bees flew in droves towards the King. He dove into a crouch, covering his head with his hands.
“No, no, no!” cried Snow White in despair. She was damned if this was a repeat of what happened to Wolfsbane.
The bees worried the cowering King. Snow White bolted to him and threw herself onto his balled-up body as the bees swarmed around them. The bees continued to dart and hum, alighting on her, and then flying off again. The King struggled beneath her grasp, but she hissed, “Keep still!” After several minutes of this, the buzzing tapered off as did the wings fanning both their faces.
Snow White was the first to get up.
“Are you stung?” she anxiously asked, watching the last bee flutter away in a hazy trail.
The King shakily crept to his feet. He brushed off grass from his shirt and pants. She had never seen him so rattled before. He was usually so composed. So . . . kingly.
“I’m not sure,” he said, looking down at himself. “I don’t feel stung.”
Snow White examined his neck and exposed arms. For the first time, she noticed how startling his blue eyes were, their pale color a sharp contrast to Aein’s. The Lapp King was as rugged and solidly hewn as Aein was slender and beautiful. The King’s muscles bulged like cords in his thick neck.
“I don’t think you’re stung,” she concluded, feeling a little guilty for finding another man attractive. “You should be OK.”
The King’s eyes narrowed. “How did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Commune with bees.”
“Oh,” Snow White was a little flustered. It showed that she was so out of touch with insect communion. “I’ve always had a thing for bees. Back in my kingdom, we had this honey farm. Honey was always my thing, so I worked on my bee communion.” Her voice faltered as she realized how ridiculous she sounded.
“Kalle,” The King said.
“Huh?”
“That’s my name. Please call me by my name.”
“My name is Snow White, not Princess of Bavaria.”
“Fair deal,” he agreed.
They paused to catch their breaths under the shade of a large flowering tree. Snow White hoped he wouldn’t ask her any more awkward questions. Especially about Aein.
Kalle spoke first. “I should warn you, Snow White, that to reach Mt. Nordstrom, we have to go through the Pass of Doubt. Not many men have the stomach for it.”
Snow White bit back the obvious tart reply about men’s stomachs. “I suppose you’re going to tell me scary stories next.”
“The Pass is the only entrance to Mt. Nordstrom, which is surrounded by a ring of impenetrable hills. For the youth of Lapland, the Pass has become a legendary rite of courage. After besting their comrades in practice, the strongest boys would try to prove themselves by navigating the Pass. Call it the equivalent of a haunted house.”
“What’s in the Pass? Oh wait, not many people live to tell the tale, right?”
Kalle grinned. “You have barbed edges, fair Princess. It’s more like ‘not many people wish to tell the tale’. Whatever happens in the Pass alters them so profoundly that they do not speak of it.”
This was decidedly curious. “And you did not seek to prove yourself?” she said.
“It was too dangerous to send me, the Crown Prince. So my father forbade it.”
“You do not strike me as the kind of person who would listen to what anyone tells you to do, least of all your father.”
One corner of Kalle’s mouth curled. “Strange how you seem to know me better than most people I’ve lived with my entire life.”
“So did you go to the Pass?”
“No. My responsibilities lie heavy on my shoulders, so I listened. For once.”
Snow White wisely did not ask him anything more about his father.
Sitting amid the ruska, the flowers and colors of the land, they talked about strategic things. How the soldiers must convene outside the Pass and not enter.
“Any invading army that exits the Pass will meet the wrath of my boys,” Kalle promised. “Much like Thermopylae, only very few are required to hold it against a swarming tide.”
“But these are aerial beings,” Snow White warned. “They will just fly over the Pass.”
“Luckily we brought archers then.”
“I hope they can shoot high.” Snow White pictured Aein being shot in the melee, and closed her eyes. Thank god he can’t fly, she thought. She hoped he would do whatever he could to prevent an all-out war. That was the trouble with him – he was so brave, and noble, and steadfast, and . . .
With a start, she realized that none of the traits she loved most about Aein included his physical beauty. Her mouth went slightly dry. Oh, he was beautiful, no doubt, but that wasn’t why she loved him.
Had loved him, she convinced herself.
She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she almost failed to register what Kalle was saying.
“Are you betrothed to anyone?” he repeated.
“Betrothed?” What a quaint word. Well, Aein had never asked her to marry him. Or maybe she broke up with him before he could pop the question. Either which way was good.
“Of course not.” She laughed.
Kalle was amused. “I’ve never met a woman who laughed at the idea of betrothal before.”
“You must not meet plent
y of women.”
He looked bashful all of a sudden. His eyes flitted away from her face. “My father had long pressured me to find a wife, but I’ve never found a woman I thought I could share my life with.”
Silence. The cold breeze lifted the smell of pine to her nostrils. He’s going to say something to me, she knew in her bones. Something I’m not ready to hear.
“Would you allow me to court you,” Kalle timidly said, “in the hopes that one day you might be my queen?”
Although she was expecting it, it still slammed into her like a runaway horse. Snow White gave a nervous laugh. “But I scarcely know you. And you me.”
“My parents married on the first day they met. I’ve known you for ten times that duration.” He clutched fistfuls of grass, embarrassed. “I’m sorry to have troubled you. It’s not often that I find such a beautiful, intelligent woman who speaks her mind and has a courage to put my men to shame. If we could unite our two kingdoms, imagine what we can do.”
Understanding dawned for Snow White. “So that’s what this is about,” she accused. “You want my kingdom.”
Kalle seemed taken aback by this sudden turn. “No. It isn’t like that at all. I just think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and – ”
“So this is about my beauty. It’s always about my beauty, isn’t it? The reason I’m hunted like a rabid wolf across a continent, the reason you’re helping me right now.” The bile rose in her throat. She tried to quell it, but its bitter aftertaste nauseated her.
“No – ”
“If I wasn’t beautiful,” she interrupted, marveling that she could speak so fearlessly, “would you still want me as your wife?” She raised her hand to her scalp. Her voice rose by several pitches. “Look at this hair. It’s falling out. By the time we reach your Pass, I’ll be bald. Is this what you want for a wife?”
Kalle stared at her, speechless.
The energy drained out of Snow White as rapidly as she had summoned it. I know someone, she numbly thought, who loved me despite thinking me hideous. An impossible ache wrenched her heart and squeezed it, refusing to let go.
“I’m sorry,” she finally said. “I have no right to take anything out on you, you who have been so kind to me.” She paused. “You don’t want to court me, Kalle. I’m not the woman you think I am.”
She rose abruptly to her feet and walked away before the tears could threaten. Somewhere behind her, a voice called her name, but she shut her ears to it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The army sparkled like a swarm of metallic insects in the afternoon sun. Blue surcoats were reinforced with steel-plated armor. Halberds were raised together with the banners of Lapland. Arrows bristled in quivers. The men and horses were in a state of anticipation. The message that ran across the lines: Be ready. Expect anything.
Snow White and her companions stood at the fringe of a plain. Mt. Nordstrom rose in the near distance, tinged with green, brown and purple. The highest peaks were cloaked in low-lying clouds.
“Behold,” Kalle announced, “the Pass of Doubt.”
Snow White gazed to where he pointed. A narrow gap weaved through the mountain range, bordered by soaring cliffs. Scant trees peppered the rock-strewn ground. Kalle and she had spoken very little since the bee episode, too embarrassed to say anything other than the briefest of pleasantries.
It didn't matter anymore, she told herself. This was where it all would end.
“I wonder if Aein and the Bambenga are there at the foot of the mountain already,” Ghost remarked, echoing their thoughts.
Snow White cleared her throat. “We have to assume they are.”
I hope you’ve managed to do something, Aein, she thought. The wind, even more chilly than the night before, whipped the red and green scarf she wore around her head into a flapping pennant. What was left of her nails was now bitten down to the quick. Trepidation and foreboding filled her bones and thrummed in the rapidly rising pulse at her neck.
“The moon will be full tomorrow according to the Roman calendar, though it’s doubtful that your boyfriend will go by a Roman clock,” Gustav said.
Annoyance stabbed Snow White. “I wish you’d stop calling him my boyfriend.”
Kalle, who was within earshot, turned. His face was granite. Snow White couldn’t recall any moment that she had told him about her true involvement with Aein unless Gustav had played gossip-monger.
As the ball of the sun sunk lower, ten of them entered the Pass as strategized: Kalle, Snow White, Ghost, Gustav, the captain and five of his men. The rest of the army waited outside on the plain.
They were hardly one mile in when the ghosts came.
#
Clearly standing in her horse’s path was Wolfsbane.
Snow White gasped. He wore the very clothes she had last seen him in: the leather jerkin, the cream-colored tunic and the coarse brown pants on top of sturdy boots. He stood in the middle of the rocky pass, staring at her steadily, motionless. She reined her horse, the blood in her veins turning cold.
She looked around. The others were nowhere to be seen. Her horse neighed uneasily and tossed its head, fighting her for the bit.
This is not real, Snow White repeated to herself.
“Snow White.” Wolfsbane’s voice was an echo. His features, once so handsome, were gaunt and lifeless. She curiously noted that they were not hornet-stung like last she’d seen him. “Go no farther. Turn back.”
“You’re not real,” Snow White blurted out.
“Of course I am not. You killed me. I am Wolfsbane’s ghost. Ghosts are meant to haunt those who have done them harm, are they not?”
You’re not real, you’re not real, you’re not real. Instead of soothing her, doubt crept into her litany. The cold wind was sharp in her lungs. The apparition before her wore far more substance than a dream fragment. She felt a tremor beginning at her right elbow, spreading until her whole body shook with more than the cold.
“I’m sorry,” she found herself saying, “I didn’t mean to kill you.”
She really hadn’t. But why was she talking to a vision she didn’t believe in?
Wolfsbane ignored her remark. “The way beyond will lead to nothing but pain and loss. You will lose everything you treasure. Is it worth going forward knowing what you have to bear?”
Snow White faltered. Her bones were like ice within their fleshy casings. He hadn’t harmed her, and yet she was terrified beyond measure, far more than the circumstances portended. It was as if she had ingested a fear-inducing potion. This is not my premonition telling me to run, is it? She wondered if she should get off her horse, or dig into its flanks and bear down viciously on Wolfsbane’s specter.
“Y-you were the one who told me to come to Lapland.” She was saying things that made little sense. Her very dry tongue found it difficult to form coherent sentences.
“But not to this godforsaken mountain. Turn back, Snow White,” Wolfsbane said urgently. “Heed my warning.”
The horseflesh beneath Snow White quivered. This is the Pass of Doubt, she reminded herself. She made to move her horse forward, but the animal, already restless, refused to budge for some strange reason.
“Miriam,” Snow White whispered to her horse, patting her gently on the side of her neck, “it’s all right. It’s not real.” Somewhere in her brain’s recesses lurked something she had heard about animals and ghosts. If her horse could see Wolfsbane, then he had to be a real ghost. But ghosts can’t hurt me, can they?
“You are right, Snow White,” Wolfsbane said. “I am a ghost, and I can see your future more clearly that you can. Please, Snow White, for the sake of everything you once were, turn back!”
His expression was so pleading that her breath caught in her throat. She could feel the raw intensity emanating from his aura. She had a sudden hunch. This is not a ploy wrought by the magic of the land but my own premonition. Something will happen to me at Mt. Nordstrom, something that will shatter me forever.
“Wolfsbane,” she began, but he vanished. In his place was a rock that looked like a toadstool. The tang of bitter almonds lingered. The sloping faces of hills closed in on either side, silent and mocking.
The terror drained like a trapdoor pulled from under her feet. Snow White felt as though she had been running since Rova, so exhausted was she. She strained to see beyond the path but the others were nowhere to be seen.
The rocks whispered: Beware.
Snow White dug her heels into her horse’s flanks. The blood coursed hotly in her head. She did not look back at the eyes she could feel raking the back of her neck. She only slowed down when she saw a solitary figure. Pulling the reins of her horse sharply, she halted.
“Ghost?” Snow White said.
Ghost’s face was solemn. “It’s all right, father,” she said. “I will go into this gladly if it will save us from starving. If the witch desires a blind assistant, then so be it. I only ask one thing.”
Snow White dismounted slowly. She stroked her horse’s withers. “Stay, Miriam.”
Ghost did not seem to be aware of Snow White. “Let me raise the hot coals to my own eyes. That way, I will spare you the burden.” Her palms were splayed, as though holding something.
“Ghost?” Snow White cautioned. “Don’t do anything here. Nothing is real.”
“Don't weep, father. It’s all right.” With great force, Ghost plunged her fingers into her own eyes.
“No!” Snow White flew at Ghost and grabbed her arms. They fell onto the ground, tussling. If Ghost had been fully present, Snow White knew that the younger girl would have incapacitated her with a few well-placed chops. But Ghost was strangely submissive. She rolled away from Snow White. A sob shook her body.
“Oh, Ghost,” Snow White said, distressed.
“None of this is real,” said another familiar voice.
Snow White turned to see Kalle. His features were contorted in great anguish. He stared at something in front of him, something that only he could see. He had dismounted and his stance was that of a man possessed.