by Krista Walsh
The Sisters’ words looped through his thoughts as he got dressed, as he rushed through breakfast, as he mounted Swish and cursed his saddle-sore buttocks when they hit the saddle.
“You’re not going to figure it out any faster by overthinking it,” said Venn as they started to ride. Jeff had filled everyone in over breakfast, hoping the rest of the riddle would make more sense to one of his friends. Unfortunately, they remained as confused as he. “Until we get more answers, the clues won’t make sense.”
“Usually the clues don’t make sense until after it’s too late to do anything about it,” Jeff grumbled, thinking of the last time the Sisters had offered “help” over the Raul situation. Too many people had ended up injured or dead, all of which could have been prevented if they had just said, Raul is holed up on the Kinnaeth Mountains, and he’s trying to turn himself into a dragon.
Venn was right, there was no point trying to figure it out without more information, but on the other hand, they were riding too quickly to carry on any kind of conversation, so there was nothing else to occupy his time.
The next three days of the journey passed quietly. The Houses where they spent their nights were all Keeps in small villages, owned by friends and peers of Jayden and Jasmine. If not quite as large or prosperous as the Feldall territory, their hosts knew how to treat their guests well.
Jeff felt his waistline expanding after each five course meal, made worse by having no other exercise than climbing on and off Swish.
But it wasn’t all large meals and comfortable beds. At each House, news reached them of the vortices, a few reported every day in the outlying counties.
“I don’t know what the queen means to do about it,” said one lord, “but she’d better snap to action quickly. Rumour has it she’s losing support in the capital.”
“She’s the queen,” said Venn. “Does support really matter?”
“If history’s taught us anything, it’s that whoever sits on top falls the hardest when the foundation gives out. She’s a good woman, a good leader, but this magic nonsense is making people afraid. Fear leads to stupid decisions.”
The story was the same everywhere they went. Ansella was not in a good position, and the people were starting to panic. Raul’s return had been an easy story to cover up. The damage he caused, although tragic, was limited to the mountain. It was less easy to cover up random portals that ate homesteads and livestock.
“I hope she’s not expecting us to know how to stop it,” Jeff said to Jasmine as they headed up to bed on the third night. “We’re about to become huge disappointments to her, if that’s the case.”
On the fourth day, slate grey clouds blanketed the sky as the group travelled along an empty road, past fields and forest and not much else. It had been hours since they’d passed another human being, and Jeff felt envious, imagining everyone in the whole world warm and comfy in their houses.
“Those don’t look good,” said Venn.
“They look like snow clouds,” said Jeff. “It’s winter.”
Venn shook her head. “You don’t live most of your life sleeping outside and not learn to recognise signs of a storm. Hate to break it to you, but Jayden’s six days could be right. How far are we from the next pit stop, Jay?”
Jayden, who for the last few days had kept his conversation with Venn to the bare necessities, frowned and said, “A good five hours’ ride from here.”
“I suggest we cut that down to three if we want to make it there at all tonight. Otherwise, I hope some of you know how to make a good campsite out of snow.”
Jeff thought of the snowforts he’d made as a kid. Good to hide behind in a snowball fight, but hardly enough to keep the elements off. He crossed his fingers Venn was mistaken.
He should have known better.
An hour after her warning, the snow began to fall. The flakes were small and fell straight down, like a white summer rain.
The clouds darkened, grey as asphalt, and Jeff thought about how much he missed the reflection of the street lights in Montreal. Without it, the sky met the ground grey against white, enveloping them in a bleak monochromatic world. Caught in between, the green fir trees and Swish’s roan coat appeared dull and lifeless.
Under the weight of the falling snow, Jeff found his motivation and interest in the queen’s request sinking into his boots.
Another hour or so later and he was cursing Ansella’s name for making them leave the fires of the Keep. The wind had picked up, and swirling snow flew into Jeff’s eyes. He pulled his toque down as far as it would go and had trouble seeing anything past Swish’s ears. The poor gelding, head bent down, looked just as miserable as Jeff felt. He patted his deerskin-gloved hand against Swish’s flank.
They could only press forward and hope that once they reached the forest, the trees would shield them from the worst of the wind.
“What’s that?” Venn yelled, pointing west across the expanse of white farmland.
Jeff raised his hand and squinted through the snow, but his vision clearly wasn’t as sharp as Venn’s trained eyes.
“What do you see?” asked Jasmine.
“If I knew, I wouldn’t have asked,” Venn replied. “But it looks like people.”
“Poor bastards stuck out here like we are,” said Jeff. “I hope their destination is closer than ours.”
Venn shook her head and reined in, turning Corsa towards the shadows Jeff could now barely make out in the distance. “They’re riding fast. In this weather, there’s only one reason you’d push your horses so hard. Either you really have to use the bathroom, or you’re shit-your-pants scared and are trying to get away from something.”
Jasmine and Jayden exchanged a look and shared an unspoken conversation. After a moment, Jasmine nodded. “We don’t have time for their problems to be ours. We’re not making horrible time and should be at Kariel’s Keep soon. But maybe we should pick up the pace a bit.”
Jayden seconded the motion, and they moved out, pushing through the snow at a clip that had Swish sweating before too long.
Boy’s been standing around a stall for three months. Out of shape bastard could use the exercise.
Jeff thought of his own waistline and put the thought aside.
Leaving Swish to follow his own path after the others, Jeff twisted in the saddle to keep his attention on the rushing figures in the distance, which now seemed a lot sharper than they had a moment ago. Venn was right—they were flying.
His imagination immediately tried to figure out what they might be fleeing from. They were coming down the same road as the Feldall company, which meant they would have passed the same things Jeff had seen. Had they noticed something the Feldall group missed? Had another vortex opened up in front of these people and terrified them as much as it would have Jeff if he hadn’t known they existed?
He felt bad for the riders, that they didn’t know outrunning the holes was futile. One could open in front of them right as they rode into it.
Jeff could now count twelve distinct riders, and soon they were close enough to make out the shaggy horses they rode, and the grey robes that covered them from head to fur-lined boot.
A sensation of dread crept up his spine at the sight of those robes. Nothing good ever came from a company in matching robes.
“Hey guys,” he called out to whoever was close enough to hear him. “Maybe we should hurry up, or get out of their way. I don’t like—”
But the rest of his warning was cut off by a raw scream as an arrow pierced his thigh.
Swish bolted, and Jeff didn’t have any clarity of mind to rein him in. His leg burned as the pain radiated up and down, and he could do nothing but curl in on himself until the first shock passed.
Behind him, he heard Brady yell his name as Venn, Jasmine, and Jayden drew their weapons and faced the direction from which the arrow had flown.
More arrows dotted the sky, grey shafts that flew through the blizzard seemingly out of nowhere.
Before he l
ost his friends completely, Jeff gritted his teeth and tugged on the reins, pulling Swish to a stop. The gelding tossed his head and stamped at the ground, raring to continue. He bucked and reared up, and Jeff made a mad grab for his mane to keep from tumbling to the ground. His uninjured right leg tight against the saddle, he turned Swish around as the robed men fell on his friends.
On heavy workhorses, the robed men crossed the snow with little difficulty, more arrows flying the closer they got. Jasmine returned fire with her own bow, taking down three.
“You two keep going,” Jayden commanded Brady. “Get to Kariel’s Keep.”
Brady barely had time to turn his horse away before the remaining nine men fell on Jayden and Venn. Jeff slowly backed Swish down the road as the arrows landed around him, but other than the one in his leg, none found their mark. He guessed that would change once they stopped firing on the run.
“Let’s go,” Brady said, urging the piebald to a gallop.
Jeff looked over his shoulder, watched Jayden’s sword coming up to parry that of his enemy. But the attacker had the advantage of two hands, and Jeff caught sight of a dagger. He was about to yell out when one of Jasmine’s arrows got the man in the chest. Jayden swung his sword into the chest of a second man, and both bodies crumpled to the ground.
“Jeff!” Brady called.
Jeff’s head spun as he watched the fight, pain making it difficult to think. He knew he should follow Brady, knew that was the fastest way to safety and treating his leg, but he found it impossible to look away. Venn threw herself from Corsa onto the back of one man to tear her knife across his throat. Six robed attackers were still fighting, the snow spattered with blood. In the dancing snowfall, the red on white contrast looked beautiful. Poetic. As if Jeff could lose himself, find answers in the patterns if he stared long enough.
A hand grabbed his shoulder and jerked him around. Brady said nothing as he took the reins from Jeff and guided Swish as well as his own mount.
Jeff groaned as the gelding sped to a trot, each move jolting his thigh against the saddle. He held on as best he could, his vision swimming and fingers going numb, and really hoped Jayden had been overestimating how long it would take to get to the Keep.
The sound of hoofbeats pounded the packed snow of the road, and Jeff caught a blow to his back before he could turn around to see what was coming. He rolled off the saddle into the snow, and Swish bolted again, soon disappearing over the next hill. The shadow of the enemy loomed over him, the tip of a sword pressed to Jeff’s throat. Stuck on his back, he wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, but couldn’t make his eyes cooperate, too focused on the face of the person standing over him. Green eyes in a tanned face, creases in the corners of the eyes. The hood covered the attacker’s hair, and a panel covered her from the nose down, but Jeff could see it was a woman.
“Who are you people?” he asked.
“Death,” she replied.
She pressed the blade harder against Jeff’s throat, and he knew it would have been over in an instant if Brady hadn’t tackled her to the ground.
Jeff scrambled onto his hands and crawled over to help the counsellor as best he could, dragging his injured leg behind him. He stretched out over the woman’s legs to keep her still while Brady sat on her chest and pulled off her hood.
“Recognise her?” Brady asked.
Jeff shook his head. Without the costume, she didn’t look much like death, lying in the snow with her blonde hair splayed out. The way she bucked against the weight on her chest and legs, her fingers uselessly reaching for the sword Brady had pushed out of reach, she didn’t seem much like anything. Definitely not a trained fighter.
“Why are you trying to kill us?” Jeff asked.
The woman spat towards him.
“That wasn’t very nice,” said Brady. “It’s a simple question.”
She prepared to spit again, but Brady held his hand over her mouth.
Jeff’s vision blurred and his leg started to burn. He gave his head a shake, trying to clear the black swirls appearing in front of him. His coat felt too heavy, too hot. He pulled off his toque and peeled off his gloves.
As soon as Jeff’s weight left her legs, the woman began to kick, straining against Brady’s hold. The counsellor shifted to hold her down and looked over his shoulder at Jeff.
“Jeff, what are you doing? You’ll freeze,” he said.
“It’s so hot,” Jeff replied, unzipping his coat. He squeezed his eyes shut in a slow blink against the cutting glare of light around him. “The snow is on fire. Everything is burning.”
Beneath the counsellor, the woman laughed as she watched Jeff. He stared back at her, not liking her reaction, but unable to stop the heat under his skin from making his blood boil. The memory of his dream that morning came back to him, the heat of the fire as Montreal burned.
Am I still dreaming?
He closed his eyes and listened for the Sisters’ laughs on the wind. Nothing came. Nothing but the roar of blood in his ears. Sweat trickled over his brow and dripped into the snow.
How can there still be snow? It’s so hot.
The world around him melted into meaningless shapes, twists of colour, none of which made sense to him but shot blinding pain through his eyes and into his brain. He clutched his head and rolled over into the snow, burying his face in the blessed coolness, but even the ice burned his skin.
He screamed as his back spasmed and arched, and his leg cramped to such an extreme he thought it would break away from his body.
Then there was numbness. Such sweet relief that he relaxed, melting into the snow. Everything was all right now. Enveloped in pure white nothingness, he knew he would be fine.
Chapter Ten
When Jeff opened his eyes again, all he saw were flames. His skin tickled and burned as tongues of fire leapt up to kiss his skin, smoke furling around his limbs in an ashy embrace.
He groaned and tried to wave it away, to roll over and stand up, but a weight pressed down on his chest. He looked down to see what was holding him, and cried out at the sight of a large beaver, its buckteeth vibrating as it chittered at him, an incomprehensible reprimand. It scurried down to his leg and used its tail to slap at Jeff’s thigh, each strike sending pain like a thousand stinging bees through his blood as he screamed again and tried to get away.
“Shh…” a soft voice crooned into his ear. “Lie still and it’ll be over soon.”
“Cassie?” Jeff murmured. He tilted his head back to see her face, and her blue eyes smiled down on him.
“I told you I’d find you,” she said. “Now stop being such a baby and let them help you.”
“Where were you? Where did they send you? I wanted to find you, I swear. I begged them to let us search for you first, but these portals, they’re causing so much damage. We have to stop them.”
“Hush,” said Cassie. She brushed the damp hair off Jeff’s forehead, and her fingers felt so blissfully cool after all that fire. “I know you tried. Jasmine told me. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
The pain in his leg eased, and Jeff looked down to see the beaver was gone, off to the other side of the room where he appeared to be having a conversation with a seal.
“I don’t understand what’s happening,” said Jeff. “Why am I being treated by animals?”
Cassie laughed. For a moment she didn’t sound like herself. Still familiar, but not the same laugh he’d fallen in love with. But when he tilted his head back to see her face, he had no doubt it was her. Still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“I promise you this man is the most skilled healer in Andvell. Jayden would have claimed him for his own if Corban hadn’t been loyal to the Kariel family for over three generations.”
Jeff blinked. “How do you know that?”
Cassie’s brow furrowed, and then smoothed into a smile. She brushed her fingers over Jeff’s forehead, down the bridge of his nose and gently closed his eyelids. “Try to get some sleep now. You’ll feel better w
hen you wake up.”
“I don’t want to,” said Jeff. “You’re back. I want to see you. I’m so sorry I let them take you.”
But the weight of sleep took him again, and in the darkness he wandered by himself, through a forest that was far too tidy to be real. The soft blues of dusk smoothed the scene around him, blending the colours so he felt he was walking through an oil painting.
“Hello?” he called, although he didn’t sense anyone nearby. Even the birds were quiet.
A twig snapped under his foot, and the shock of noise sent his heart racing. He braced himself for something or someone to find him, but the woods remained silent. Peaceful.
“What is this place?” he asked.
He waited to hear the Sisters again, this setting exactly the sort the witches preferred, but there was nothing.
Jeff stopped walking and sank down to rest against a tree. He was exhausted, but for the first time in a long time, he felt like he might get some rest. Nothing wanted to kill him here. He had nothing to worry about because no one could find him.
He closed his eyes and allowed himself to sleep.
And when he woke up again, he felt refreshed. Lazy summer day after running around on the beach refreshed.
It took a while to convince himself to open his eyes, knowing once he did his sense of deep peacefulness would disappear, and whatever trouble he couldn’t remember would come back in a flood of negativity.
“Oh good. You’re awake.”
The voice that spoke wasn’t Cassie’s. It sounded like an old man, gravelly and impatient—like a man who knew he didn’t have much time left and didn’t mean to spend it allowing others to dawdle.
“Come now, you haven’t got all day,” he continued. And then chuckled, “Well, I suppose you do. It’s not like you’ll leave until the storm passes. But even so, I have better uses for this table.”
Jeff eased one eye open, taking in a room that reminded him of the Haunt. A pot spewing strange-smelling smoke bubbled over the fire, and a long table against the wall was covered with bones, tools, and some bizarre-looking plants.