by K. M. Shea
Rakel yipped like a dog. “A gift? Is that what they think in Baris? As beautiful as that thought is, the rest of the continent is under the opinion that magic is a curse. The more powerful a person is, the more twisted their soul. It is not a good thing that I am what I am. It is a very cruel life.”
“You cannot believe that prattle,” Phile scowled. “You said yourself that you like your powers. And who says magic users are evil? You’re not.”
“You have no idea what kind of being I am,” Rakel said. “I have a heart of ice.”
“No you don’t. You’re the girl who’s kind enough to save a village because a couple of kids and noble enough to free her brother when she should be the queen.”
“I AM NOT NOBLE!” Rakel shouted. What grip she had left on her control slipped, and giant spikes of ice shot out of the ground. She shattered them, steeling herself for the familiar looks of fright.
“No, you’re afraid,” Phile said. She shook her head and walked back towards the camp. “And until you accept that you are nothing to be feared, you won’t win this war.”
Rakel was sitting alone in her simple, nearly empty room. She was perched on a stool positioned close to the fire in the fireplace, not because she wanted the warmth, but because the light it shed was comforting.
Her half-argument with Phile drifted through her mind. She is wrong. Magic is not a gift—she only says so because she isn’t cursed with it.
There was a heavy knock at the door.
Rakel stood. “Yes?”
“Princess,” Oskar said, peeking inside with his usual, generous smile. “If we could have a moment of your time.”
“We?” she asked.
Oskar stepped aside, unmasking Captain Halvor’s shorter, wiry frame.
“Come in.” She waited until they were inside and the door was shut, then seated herself on the stool again. “Please, sit.”
Captain Halvor leaned against a wall, but Oskar took the invitation and eased himself onto an unstable chair placed near Rakel’s stool. “We have come to speak to you, Princess, so Captain Halvor can live up to his word.”
Rakel blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said I would tell you what I know of magic.” The captain rubbed his chin, scratching his stubble.
“Ah, yes. You mentioned the Chosen could track me through my magic,” Rakel said, recalling his words from their flight.
Captain Halvor nodded. His elbows were pinned to his sides, and his shoulders were unnaturally stiff. “It’s possible. Many magic users can sense when someone else is wielding power in their vicinity.”
Rakel frowned. “I don’t recall having ever detected such a thing, even when I was taking care of the Chosen weather-magic user. I know he was using magic because I could see it, and I could sense the tweak in the weather patterns as I do something similar with my magic.”
“It’s not unsurprising,” Captain Halvor said, picking his words carefully, “given your power.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Captain Halvor rubbed the back of his neck, and Oskar smoothly stepped in. “What Halvor is trying to say is that it’s not a surprise you can’t feel the magic of others. Someone like that weather user has a pond of magic compared to your lake. With that much power at your disposal, it’s unlikely you would even pick up the feeling of weaker magic users. Correct?”
Captain Halvor nodded. “The more innocuous magics are nearly impossible to notice—things like animal taming or cloaking oneself. Big, flashy types of magic that more directly affect the natural world—like yours—are shining beacons when they’re being used.”
“In other words, I would do well to avoid using my magic near the Chosen unless I am launching an attack.” Rakel knitted her fingers together as she pondered the concept.
“Yes,” Captain Halvor said.
“I see. Is there anything else I should know?”
“I apologize, Princess; I know very little. I only happened to hear of such things as magic tracking and the usage requirement through pieces of information my scouts learned,” Captain Halvor said.
“Usage requirement?” Rakel asked.
“Yes, the limit put upon your magic, or the price you pay for it,” Captain Halvor said.
“Price?” she asked, feeling ill-informed when both Oskar and Captain Halvor stared at her.
“Princess,” Oskar started. “Have you never paid for using your magic, or found a limit?”
“No,” Rakel said.
Oskar leaned back in his chair. “Incredible,” he murmured. He glanced at Captain Halvor. “Shall I try explaining this one, as well?”
Captain Halvor nodded sagely.
“My understanding is not as clear as Halvor’s—I know only what he’s told me—but all magic users have either a limit or a price they pay for using their magic. Magics that have limits mean there is a limitation to their use. Some can use only a certain amount of their magic every day; or perhaps they are limited to working their magic on things they can touch, or only one thing at a time. The majority of magic users have limitations. However, there are some magic users who have to “pay,” so to speak, for using magic. They might use vast amounts of energy when using their abilities and feel depleted afterwards. Or perhaps their magic can be activated only with the shedding of their blood. Does any of this resonate?”
Rakel forced herself to sit up straight when all she wanted to do was hunch over. What kind of a monster am I that I have neither a limit nor a price? Aloud, she said, “No, I have never encountered such a thing.”
Captain Halvor pushed off the wall. “It is possible that you have not used enough magic to hit your limit or to be required to pay for its usage.”
“If that is so, you must be cautious in the future, Princess. According to the scouts, you will encounter it,” Oskar promised as he rose from his chair.
Neither Oskar nor Captain Halvor appeared to be frightened that she hadn’t encountered a price or limit on her magic. Instead, the set of Captain Halvor’s shoulders and the lines crinkling around Oskar’s green eyes spoke of worry…for her.
A smile threatened to bud on her lips. If I have received any gift, it is not magic, but Phile’s friendship, and these two men. Rakel tucked the thought away, saving it for a less critical time. “I understand,” she said. “I will be watchful when I build the snowstorm tonight.”
“Ah, yes. I nearly forgot about that. We’ll get ready to head out with you,” Oskar said.
“It’s not necessary,” Rakel said.
Captain Halvor shook his head. “It is only right. Excuse us, Princess. I will have the reindeer sleighs prepared.”
“I’ll go get extra furs. If you build a blizzard, I imagine it’s going to get cold. We’ll be ready shortly, Princess,” Oskar called over his shoulder as he and Captain Halvor made for the door.
“It’s not…I don’t need…” she broke off in a sigh when they left without listening to her. “Yes. A real gift,” she reminded herself. She frowned in irritation until she remembered their worry, and a smile finally won the war. “Enough. I must focus on the present. Tomorrow, we fight.”
CHAPTER 10
TO BATTLE
Rakel watched the fox with the fascination of a child. While everyone else in her unusual army was silent and motionless, watching the pass for signs of the Chosen army, she gawked at the small animal—the first one she had ever seen outside of a book.
The fox seemed to notice her stare, and it made a show of digging a hole in the snow and thrusting its nose in it.
“Is that normal behavior for a Verglas fox?” Phile asked.
Rakel shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”
The fox barked—a strange combination of a scream and a hoarse yodel. “That is an awful noise,” Phile said.
Captain Halvor rustled a branch, and Rakel cringed in guilt. She gave the fox one last curious glance, and turned to peer down the pass.
The previous night, Rakel had coated the
land in a layer of snow that almost reached her knees and used impressive drifting to wash out most of the roads and paths. The one area she kept open was the path they guarded—which wove between two steep hills to create a small pass. Captain Halvor had chosen this location as the place they would make their stand.
They had slipped into position hours ago, and while Rakel tried to tweak the air temperature so it was a little warmer, many were cold and uncomfortable from the inactivity.
“Maybe they’ve changed their plans,” she said as the fox barked again.
“Doubtful,” Phile snorted.
“Colonel Graydim likely realized we were in his office. He—”
“There,” Captain Halvor said, pointing to the entrance of the pass.
Armor glittered in the sunlight as the Chosen army marched forward.
“Are you ready, Princess?” Oskar asked.
Rakel uneasily glanced at the snowdrifts and ice coverings she’d made to hide the Verglas soldiers. She was loath to use her magic in the presence of so many, but she didn’t have a choice. The army Farrin was bringing was beyond her abilities to subdue unless she used a substantial amount of her magic—an idea she liked even less.
“Princess?” Captain Halvor asked.
Rakel nodded. She leveled her chin and strode out of the shadow of the pass and into the sun.
Behind her, the fox screamed as Rakel reached for her magic. She glanced at the hills and yanked the snow down their steep sides, spreading it out in front of the pass like a blanket—it would be much harder for Chosen soldiers to attack in a foot of snow.
The leaders of the army yelled and reorganized their ranks—moving their mounted soldiers to the front to break the path. Overhead, the sky grew cloudy.
“They’ve brought the weather mage with them,” Phile announced.
Rakel was studying the sky, trying to decide what would be the best way to use the already stirred weather magic, so she saw the first arrow. “Archers!” She threw her hands up, and columns of ice burst out of the ground and bloomed like trees, shielding the Verglas army.
“They’re expecting our ambush,” Oskar said.
“Archers, take those horses down!” Captain Halvor shouted.
“Little Wolf, the weather mage!”
“Where?”
“Straight out.”
“I see him.” Rakel left the safety of the ice shelter, deflecting an arrow with an ice shield of her own as she stalked towards the weather mage.
She saw him suck his head into his shoulders, trying to hide behind the struggling horses. When he saw that she was prowling in his direction, he yelled. “Farrin!”
Rakel blasted ice at him in hopes of cutting him off, but, as if he had been summoned, Colonel Graydim dropped in front of Rakel’s path, his two-handed greatsword unsheathed.
“I told you, you should have left Verglas.” His handsome features were subdued with regret.
“And I told you I wouldn’t,” Rakel said. Knowing she would have to defeat him fast—or he would be able to keep her occupied for the fight—she created a circle of treacherous ice around her.
“Attack!” Captain Halvor shouted, leading the Verglas troops out of the pass.
Farrin shook his head and pointed to his boots. “Ice cleats,” he said, taking a few steps on the ice slick with no trouble.
Rakel flung an arm out in front of her, throwing a human sized chunk of ice at him. Farrin swung his sword at the incoming attack, meeting it head on.
There were a couple of things Rakel expected to happen. She thought in all likeliness his sword would snap—she had made the ice thick and dangerously cold—and predicted that the ice would smash him to the ground.
Instead, when the flat of Farrin’s sword met the ice, a shrieking noise pierced the air. Farrin carried through with his swing, and the chunk of ice reflected off the sword. It hurtled towards the Verglas troops and hit three soldiers, tossing them to the ground like ragdolls.
Rakel whipped her hand in front of her, dropping a heavy snowdrift over his head. Farrin skidded backwards with his speed magic so he wasn’t under it, and he swung his sword at the falling snow. The shrieking noise tore through the air, and the snow followed the swing of the sword and hit a line of Verglas soldiers in the chest.
As panic clawed at her chest, Rakel formed dagger-sized shards of ice. She spread them wide so they surrounded Farrin on all sides. She clenched her hands into fists, and the daggers pelted towards him.
Farrin was a blur as he parried the shards. Some he broke, and a handful hit him—tearing his uniform—but the majority ricocheted off his sword and flew into the Verglas forces.
Soldiers shouted in pain as Rakel’s ice daggers pierced their armor.
“Do you understand now, Your Highness?” Farrin lowered his sword but kept his stance and expression guarded.
“You have two strains of magic,” Rakel said, her lips numb. “Speed and…”
“Magic deflection,” Farrin confirmed. “Anything you throw at me, I can avert.”
Her ears rang as she stared in horror.
“Surrender, Your Highness. You cannot hope to defeat me,” Farrin said. He took a step towards her but was forced to twist and raise his sword in a block.
Foedus, Phile’s ugly dagger, skipped over the edge of the sword, slicing his cheek. Phile took his moment of distraction and pounced, attacking his open back with a shortsword. Farrin must have heard her, for he spun faster than Rakel could blink and parried her thrust. “Stop letting him intimidate you, Little Wolf. You’re better than this!” Phile shouted.
Farrin knocked the shortsword out of Phile’s hands, but it left him wide open with his sword fully extended, so Phile tried to kick him in the stomach. He caught her foot and flipped her feet over her head.
“Farrin Graydim, is it? More like dim-witted,” Phile said when she righted herself.
Farrin raised an eyebrow. “You insult those you fight?”
“Don’t look so offended. It worked on your cavalry leader.” She must have recovered Foedus, for she threw it again and, like the last time, it skipped over Farrin’s sword, this time slicing a lock of his hair off. “Tsk, you should have been paying attention. Now your hair is uneven—which is a real tragedy, because you are a looker.”
Farrin thrust his sword at her, but Phile somersaulted and avoided it. “Oohh, that made you mad,” she cackled.
“Princess.” Oskar placed a hand on her shoulder.
Rakel flinched. “I’m sorry—”
“It’s not your fault,” Oskar smiled warmly. “But we can’t give up. Keep him occupied and distracted—and stop any other mages if you can.”
Just past them, Phile continued to fight Farrin and crowed, “Careful Farrin Dim-wit! If you let Foedus hit you, it might transfer some of its ugliness to you.”
“Can you do this, Princess?” Oskar asked.
Rakel weakly nodded. She was lying. She couldn’t fight him, not long, anyway. Farrin could kill her at any moment he chose.
“Good girl.” Oskar pulled back just in time to avoid Farrin when he tapped his magic and left Phile in his dust.
Farrin thrust his sword between Rakel and Oskar and swung it at the attendant, aiming for his side.
“Behold, the awesome power of ugliness!” Phile flung Foedus again as the wind howled and rain fell in torrents.
Farrin dodged the dagger, giving Oskar time to escape. “Such a violent youngster. Thank you, Phile!” Oskar winked at the Robber Maiden and slipped back into the thick of the battle.
“My pleasure. Good luck, Little Wolf!” Phile said. She rolled, grabbed Foedus, and popped to her feet. She flung herself at a cavalry soldier, knocking him off his horse and claiming the animal for herself.
Farrin watched Phile flee with narrowed eyes and the slightest hint of a scowl tugging at his lips. His expression cleared when he took a step towards Rakel. She flung her hands up, and ice shot out of the ground under his feet. It moved so slowly, it did litt
le besides upset his balance, and Farrin hopped off the six-foot pedestal of ice with ease. Rakel then broke it at the base and tipped it in his direction.
Farrin caught it with his sword and threw it backwards, but it hit no one. He sprinted to Rakel with his speed magic, and Rakel flung up an ice wall, protecting herself. She looked up when rain pelted her face and frowned. “I need to take care of—”
Her ice wall cracked and then shattered, cleaved by Farrin’s sword. She grimaced and leaped backwards. Farrin leveled his sword at her and opened his mouth to speak—when a cage of ice swallowed him up. It neither touched nor attacked him, so he couldn’t reflect it back. Rakel had made the ice bars of the cage thicker than her wall, so when he struck it with his sword, it did not immediately shatter.
“Superior thinking,” Phile shouted as she rode past on her stolen horse. “You can beat him yet!”
Soldiers yelled, drawing Rakel’s gaze. A small girl, built like a fawn—who couldn’t have been much older than fourteen—hammered her fists into the center support column of the ice shelter that protected Verglas troops from Chosen archers. The column collapsed, and the ice roof groaned and threatened to cave in. Rakel extended a hand, and another tree-like column shot out of the ground, cradling the roof.
Rakel felt a draft at her back and heard the tinkling of ice shattering. She whirled around, throwing a massive spike of ice up as a knee-jerk reaction. Farrin battered it away, and it skid straight for a squad of Verglas archers.
“No!” Rakel shouted, raising a wall of ice to protect them. She yelped when Farrin kicked her in the side, tossing her to the ground.
She glared up at the rainy sky and angrily fed the rainstorm her magic, turning it into a blizzard. Lightning sizzled in the unusual weather conditions, and Rakel scrambled to her feet, barely avoiding Farrin’s stab at her thigh.
She fed the ice shelter more power—popping another column out of the ground—and threw a cloud of loose, dry snow at Farrin. He can’t do much damage with that.
His sword sliced straight through the cloud, and it fell before reaching him. Rakel threw up another cage around Farrin, but this time he was prepared for it and shattered a hole for himself when it reached his knees.