Heart of Ice (The Snow Queen Book 1)

by K. M. Shea

  A smile—the first smile Rakel ever saw him wear—spread across the captain’s face. “I prayed for this day, Princess.”

  “Thank you. I hope I am not too late.”

  “Never, Princess,” Oskar said, shaking his head in mock disapproval.

  “Knut, get Aleifr and the Fyran elders,” Captain Halvor said.

  “The captain has been planning this for days,” Oskar said, winking at Rakel as he escorted her inside. “Is the library a suitable place to meet, Halvor?”

  “Yes. Snorri, go to my quarters and retrieve my map—”

  “I already have many maps—of the continent and Verglas,” Rakel said.

  Oskar sighed wistfully. “Yes, I envy your collection.”

  “The first step will be to build a war council. Our supplies and numbers are limited. After we are organized, we need to concentrate on freeing additional troops,” Captain Halvor said. (He was not about to be distracted now that his hopes were coming together.)

  “They didn’t slaughter our soldiers?” Rakel asked.

  Captain Halvor shook his head. “They killed many, but they took great pains to capture troops.”

  “They probably want fighting slaves,” Oskar said grimly.

  Captain Halvor bowed his head in acknowledgement.

  “Very well. Where is the nearest place in which our soldiers are being kept?” Rakel asked as they entered her library.

  “There is a garrison not far from the foot of the mountain. Here.” He pointed to a map she brought to him and then paged through others, searching for a different one.

  Oskar, meanwhile, strolled past the shelves. “Did you enjoy all the books, Princess?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even though it seems like most of your collection is nonfiction?”

  “There are a few collections of fairy tales, but in truth I enjoy informational books the most. I employed many of the methods outlined in the architecture books when building this castle, and I was grateful for the knowledge the history books imparted.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Here. Namsen, another village, is between Vefsna and the enemy garrison. You will probably wish to clear it first, but I doubt you’ll encounter much opposition. The real difficulty will be the garrison. My soldiers and I can—”

  “No,” Rakel said.

  Captain Halvor blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Neither you nor your men will accompany me while I fight. Once I push the garrison out, you are free to reclaim the Verglas soldiers, but I will not allow anyone to stand with me while I fight.”

  Captain Halvor scowled.

  “It’s not wise to fight alone, Princess,” Oskar said, his voice gentle.

  Rakel knew his words were wise…but the garrison was so close to the mountain that if she studied her geography, she could possibly manipulate a partial avalanche. The last thing she wanted was for Oskar and Captain Halvor, who had treated her with something akin to kindness, to see what she was capable of.

  If they do, they’ll know how unnatural I am.

  “I am aware my demand is risky.”

  Captain Halvor snorted.

  “However, it is the only way I will face the garrison.”

  Oskar and Captain Halvor exchanged glances. The captain flattened his lips in displeasure, but Oskar clasped a hand on Halvor’s shoulder. “She is the princess,” he said.

  “After taking out the garrison and reclaiming Verglas soldiers, where do we go?”

  “Our end goal should be Ostfold—the capital. It’s been occupied for several weeks, and it has a large number of Verglas soldiers,” Captain Halvor said, pointing to the dot that marked the map.

  “And my brother,” Rakel said.

  “Yes.” The amount of care and studied nonchalance the good captain could put on one word was incredible.

  “I agree we must free Ostfold as swiftly as possible, but shouldn’t we open up other pockets first?” Oskar asked.

  “Yes,” the captain repeated—this time with relief. “There are several settlements and fortifications we should take out first. Depleting them will make it harder for the enemy to regroup and try to recapture Ostfold, if they are so inclined.”

  “I see,” Rakel said.

  Knut stomped into the room; another soldier—a younger man with a ruddy complexion and easy smile—followed in his wake. “I’ve brung Aleifr, and the elders have been notified. What next, Captain?”

  Captain Halvor smiled—miraculously—a second time. “We go to war.”

  CHAPTER 5

  THE ROBBER MAIDEN

  “You are certain all the Verglas soldiers are in those four lean-tos?” Rakel asked. She had defeated Namsen with ease an hour or two ago.

  Snorri—her guide to the Chosen’s garrison—spoke, his words quiet and indiscernible.

  Rakel hesitated. “Could you repeat that?”

  Snorri spoke again, his words still mumbled. Normally Rakel would take this as a sign of fear of her, but the man rarely spoke at a regular volume.

  “Speak up, Snorri. A badger gargling a mouthful of bees would sound clearer than you,” Oskar said.

  Rakel eyed the pair, but when Snorri spoke, this time she could understand him. “The guards are changing, so no one of Verglas is working. When they aren’t working, they are kept in the lean-tos.”

  “Thank you. You two should return to help the efforts at Namsen,” she said.

  “Are you so anxious to ditch me, Princess?”

  “Oskar.”

  “As you wish. Come, mumbler. Let me hold your sleeve, or I will lose track of you. Why can’t you make noise and leave tracks like a normal man?” Oskar sighed as Snorri led him away.

  Rakel watched—she wanted to be certain they left—until they had disappeared from sight for several long minutes. She flicked her fingers, and snow rose off the ground and covered her dark blue cap and her green dress, coating her in white and making her much harder to discern among the snowdrifts.

  Sufficiently camouflaged, Rakel—giving the garrison a wide berth—crept around to the other side, putting her much closer to the lean-tos that housed the captured Verglas soldiers.

  She glanced up at the mountain, feeling for the deepest pockets of snow. She dared not touch the top of Ensom Peak—it was the tallest mountain of the range and housed the most snow—but a third of the way up the mountain, there was a promising pocket of snow that, with a little prompting, would serve as a small, controlled avalanche.

  She mentally traced its path and double-checked her predictions as she started calling up her magic. Using the avalanche would make for any easy win, but it would be difficult. She couldn’t let the snow get away from her, or it might flood a village, and she had to be careful to sweep Chosen soldiers away—not to bury and suffocate them.

  “It can’t be more difficult than building an ice-castle,” she murmured. She set her shoulders and took a deep breath.

  Now.

  Rakel’s magic leaped to life with the ferocity of a windstorm. It swirled in her veins and twined around her fingertips.

  Under her direction, ice wrapped around the lean-tos, strengthening them and sealing them from snow but leaving gaps at the top for air. The earth rumbled, and a wave of white snow rushed down the mountainside.

  Some of the invader guards and sentries gaped at the storm of white gushing at them like water. The noise summoned additional soldiers from the barracks. A few tried to run; others began to climb the walls of their temporary buildings, but all of them yelled when the snow hit them. They yelped in confusion as the snow buoyed up, pushing them to the top instead of burying them. Rakel watched with satisfaction as most of the garrison was swept away in the river of snow, which carried them out past the foothills and dumped them a fair distance away.

  Rakel boxed in the weapons and supply storehouses with walls of ice—no sense wasting weapons that could arm Verglas soldiers—and fought the rushing snow to keep the buildings standing, even the ones that several
enterprising Chosen soldiers had taken refuge on.

  As the snow settled and the avalanche subsided, Rakel sauntered towards the encampment, hardening the snow under her, so she would not plunge into the drifts that were now well over her head.

  A young man—probably in his late teens—stood on the building closest to her. His copper-colored hair stood up like a patch of weeds, and he waved his arms and stared at Rakel with great concentration.

  A storm cloud formed above Rakel, and rain began to pelt her face.

  Rakel stared at the magic user and wondered if he was that stupid or if he was just inexperienced. Judging by his baby face, she suspected it was the latter, but she almost felt bad for him when she fed his storm and made it bigger and bigger.

  When it spanned a mile, Rakel brushed raindrops from her face and flicked her magic, pulling the temperature of the storm down, turning it into a stinging snow.

  The young magic user gawked at her in dismay, his regret clear when his lips formed the vowels of “Oops.”

  Rakel smiled and funneled the snowstorm over the few remaining Chosen soldiers.

  “Bluff!” one of them shouted.

  “Sorry,” Rakel’s opponent said.

  Rakel shook her head and flicked ice off her. She splayed her fingers, and a wave of snow tossed Bluff from the roof. She made a slide of ice and sent the young magic user down it. He jolted and spun around as it carried him far away from the garrison, off to join the rest of his compatriots.

  She saw the slide throw him into the air one last time, then he disappeared from view. She barely had enough time to raise an ice shield when she noticed the first arrow.

  Five arrows stuck the wall, quivering and digging almost all the way through. Rakel hissed when she inspected the barbed heads. If she was serious, so were they. Deadly serious.

  Rakel dismissed the storm—it took more concentration to keep it running than it was worth—and flung snow into the soldiers’ faces. She was about to start cornering them with spikes of ice when a loud yodel echoed down the mountain.

  “WOOOHOOO!”

  A young lady who appeared to be a little older than Rakel—perhaps in her late twenties—zoomed down the thick layer of snow on a tiny, red sled. As she whooped, the sled launched her precariously into the air, making her dark brown hair levitate. She kept her seat, and the sled landed, taking her surging past Rakel and towards the soldiers.

  “I’d move if I were you,” she called as her sled hurtled her straight up to one of the buried buildings. The soldier standing on it gawked at her, missing his chance to flee. When the sled smacked into the roof, the woman flew into the air and crashed into him.

  “That was a thrill,” the woman said, peeling herself off the stunned soldier. “A fast ride and a soft landing—how perfect! It was even better than riding a water serpent. Thank you, soldier, for your worthy sacrifice,” she said, bowing to the mostly unconscious soldier. She brushed off her pants and smiled when she caught Rakel’s eye. “You, there, beautiful lady. You must be the fabled Princess Rakel?”

  Beautiful? That is such a poor lie it must be a joke. Rakel warily eyed the woman’s unusual wardrobe—she had never seen any of the village women wear pants—and collected a chunk of her magic. “I am.”

  “I, Your Highness, am Phile Silver-Step—the Robber Maiden. I am here to offer you my services.”

  Noticing one of the soldiers had recovered and was nocking an arrow in his bow, Rakel threw a boulder-sized snowball at him, flattening him. “If you mean to rescue me, allow me to assure you it is not necessary.”

  “Of course not,” Phile said, sounding scandalized. “You are a strong, independent woman—or I wouldn’t offer you my services. I choose not to reward sniveling girls who make no attempt to rescue themselves—you don’t want to reinforce such behavior, you know.” She made big gestures and held an oddly shaped dagger in her right hand, which she stabbed when she wanted to make a point.

  “No, I don’t,” Rakel said, snapping her wrist.

  A Chosen soldier shouted in dismay when the arrow he was trying to load froze to his crossbow.

  “Don’t worry. I will teach you about it later—you’re sure to come across many sniveling girls in your campaign for Verglas. I imagine they’ll snivel extra when they see how pretty you are. King’s earwax—your parents must have been a gorgeous couple. But, enough! For now, I will reassure you that I am an ally!” Phile spun around and parried a blow from the soldier she had previously knocked over. Her dagger glinted in the sunlight as she leaned into him.

  Rakel couldn’t watch the fight; too many of the soldiers had recovered from the avalanche and the shock of meeting the Robber Maiden. She concentrated on subduing them and pulling them into the deep snow where they floundered.

  A soldier yelped like a puppy. Rakel saw Phile’s opponent drop, his hands covering his eyes.

  “Behold, the powers of Foedus—fear its ugliness,” Phile crowed, holding her dagger up as she launched herself from the roof and landed on her sled, which took her careening off to the next roof. “Try to corral them together, Your Highness—then we can take them captive,” Phile shouted.

  “I doubt they will be inclined to do so after you just shouted the plan for all to hear,” Rakel said.

  “Regardless of whether they know our plan, do you honestly think they can counter your powers?”

  “I see your point,” Rakel said. She drained the avalanche snow away until the snow crust was just a little deeper than it had been before she had arrived, and the doors of the buildings could be opened and closed.

  The Chosen soldiers abandoned their rooftop posts and ran towards Rakel with sabers and pikes raised.

  Rakel, in response, melted the snow, then froze it again so it formed ice thick and slick enough to skate on. The soldiers slipped and fell.

  “Very precise work,” the self-proclaimed Robber Maiden said as she darted past them. She bailed out of her sled to avoid crashing into a building and leaped onto the nearest soldier.

  In five minutes, the girls had the soldiers rounded up. Rakel encircled them with walls of ice twice the height of the tallest soldier and too thick for any of them to break through.

  “What a pleasurable fight. Our opponent was not savory, but you are highly skilled with your magic. It is a joy to behold,” Phile said, drawing closer.

  When inspected from head to toe, Rakel could see that Phile was a concoction of loud colors and foreign notions. She was not from Verglas, for her skin was a warm shade of olive. Her dark-colored hair was pulled back into a wild ponytail and covered with a brilliant, red kerchief. She wore white linen pants tucked into brown boots, and a thick, red coat the same shade of red as her kerchief. As Rakel watched, she slipped on a pair of white, leather, fleece-lined mittens.

  “Thank you,” Rakel said, tilting her head to study her from another angle. It was possible this was a trap, and Phile was sent to attack her. “Are you a magic user?”

  “ ’Tis a shame, but no. I was most disappointed as a child when I realized it was so. I am as I said—a Robber Maiden. My mother is the venerable Leonia, the famed leader of the biggest gang of thieves in Baris—the Dishonorable Knaves,” Phile said, twirling the tips of her hair. “I am also the bearer of Foedus—the world’s ugliest dagger,” she added, holding the weapon out for inspection.

  Foedus was indeed ugly. It was shaped to resemble a bizarre, misshapen insect, with the cross-guard serving as the head, and the blade—which was unusually straight on one side and curved on the other—jutting out from the bug’s head like a massive horn. If the shape wasn’t bad enough, the bug had gaudy green jewels for eyes, and the grip was wrapped in repulsive reddish-orange leather.

  Rakel twirled her fingers, chipping away at the ice enclosing the Verglas soldiers in the lean-tos as she studied the unusual girl. Nothing about Phile made her wary, but she found it hard to believe the skilled fighter just happened to find her. “And why should I trust you?”

  Phile f
olded her arms and twirled her oddly shaped dagger in spite of her thick mittens. “I thought you might ask that, so I gathered a token when I visited Ostfold. You see, I came to Verglas because of you.”

  Rakel blinked. “Pardon?”

  “Well, that’s not the whole truth. I never much cared for countries invading other countries, so I came to bother the Chosen troops a bit, but then I intercepted a communication from one officer to another. They were requesting additional troops to come north because they suspected they would soon be facing you—the famed Princess of Isolation and the Monarch of Winter, Princess Rakel,” she said as she started digging through her coat.

  “I was isolated because of my magic. I hardly think that would make you want to meet me.”

  “It did, actually.”

  “You don’t fear me?”

  “Why would I? Back in Baris, Six-toed Ori can hit the center of a target, blindfolded. My mother can jump from three stories and land without breaking a bone or slowing down. How is that any different from manipulating snow?”

  Rakel was about to open her mouth to tell her exactly how different it was when Phile slipped something shiny out of her jacket.

  “Here you go. Here is my token of loyalty,” she said, handing the object over.

  Rakel stared at the mirror shard, which was as big as her thumb and dagger sharp. “What is this?”

  “I don’t know, but whatever it is, it’s important. The leader of the Chosen forces—Tenebris—and three of his underlings each have one…or had one. I swiped this one from the illusionist, Kavon,” Phile said.

  “It’s magic based,” Rakel said, holding the shard in her hand and feeling the slippery, oily presence of another power. The surface was too warped to study, and the shard was too small to use for anything magic related, but Rakel could feel the pulse of a foreign magic.

  “Yes,” Phile acknowledged. “But it seems to be more of sentimental value than useful. I followed Kavon around for two days to confirm he never used it for anything. In any case, I thought it might help you learn why the Chosen are attacking Verglas.”