by K T Munson
Frost Burn
By: K.T. Munson & Nichelle Rae
ISBN 978-0-988336-6-3
Copyright © K.T. Munson & Nichelle Rae 2015
The right of K.T. Munson and Nichelle Rae to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the writer. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
Cover art by Michal Krasnodebski.
Map art by White Noise Graphics.
Edited by Tanya Egan Gibson.
Other books by K.T. Munson
North & South
Zendar: A Tale of Blood and Sand
1001 Islands
Unfathomable Chance
The Sixth Gate out 2017
Other books by Nichelle Rae
The White Warrior Series:
Vol. 1: Only Glow
Vol. 2: The Blaze Ignites
Vol. 3: Steady Burn
Vol 4: Doused
Lights Fall out 2017
Frost: Chapter One
Aradel lurked across the edge of the lake with her weapon held tightly in her fist. Her quarries stalked her closely, but she was careful to stay well hidden behind the snowdrifts. She couldn’t see them, but she knew they were there. The wind had been bad these last few weeks and provided perfect cover. Her bare feet made no sound on the snow keeping her movements secret.
The soft glow of the cloud-hidden sun made the ground shine even brighter. Without the snow, she imagined this place would look like a dead wasteland. The snow is what gave it life. The only time it appeared more beautiful was under the glow of the moon.
Glancing hastily over the top of a snowdrift, she saw nothing. Scanning the trees, she wondered if it was worth the risk. She finally slipped around the edge of the bank, her pale blue gown and simple short cape not restricting her movement as she took cover with her back against a neighboring tree. She peered around the side, but still saw no one watching her. Her dark blue eyes narrowed as she looked for any movement in the pale snow. Then something shifted.
Focusing on it, she lifted her arm, her weapon primed and ready. She saw the top of his hat, and crept carefully across the short clearing toward the lake. The rest would not be far from him, and if she struck him, they would likely flee. Aradel’s anticipation grew as she rounded the snowdrift.
“Ah-ha!” Her inner child called out.
Her excitement turned into confusion when all she saw was a lonely hat without its owner.
“Now!” someone called.
She shrieked as snowballs pelted her from all directions. Hearty laughter filled the forest as she covered her head. Focusing on that deep laughter, she threw her snowball wildly in that direction. Kirill’s laughter was quickly cut off and Aradel glanced up.
Snow fell off Kirill’s face as he blinked in surprise.
She pointed at him. “Ha!”
“Get her!” he yelled, and the children stampeded toward her.
She yelped and skipped out of their reach, lifting her skirts as she went. Kirill laughed as the children hurried after her. She heard their feet crunching in the hard snow, but their little legs couldn’t keep up with her. Reaching the end of the lake, she turned to face them, and lifted her arms, letting her powers flow through her.
A wave of snow lifted, and the children screeched, falling over themselves in surprise. Aradel let the snow swirl until an army of snow creatures formed. The children watched, with their little mouths dropping open in wonder. Miniature polar bears, no bigger than her palm, suddenly marched forward. The children tripped over themselves to get up, all yelling at the same time.
“My army will defeat you!” she cried.
Kirill stepped onto the lake. “Your snow is no match for my ice!” he called back, and ice bubbles formed around all her little creatures.
Lifting her arms, the polar bears took to the sky, leaving their ice globes behind. The children gasped. The bears then began to dance, leaving little trails of snow behind them that rained down on the children. The children, awed at her creations, watched them overhead.
Finally, they cried one by one, “Aradel wins!”
“There, you see,” Aradel called. Her face hurt from how much she was smiling. “They have named their victor.”
“You were their favorite anyway,” Kirill called back, his voice attempting to mock a hurt ego. “I could never have won.”
She let her bears go and they dropped on top of the children, who howled with excitement. They rolled around in the snow left behind as she made her way around the ice bubbles. When she reached them, they jumped to their feet and pulled at her clothes, begging for more tricks. She laughed, patting them as she made her way to Kirill. He had his arms crossed and his nose in the air.
“It was very clever with the hat,” she conceded. “You very nearly won this time.”
“Next time you won’t be so lucky!” he declared, still sounding aloof.
“Children, it is very nearly time to go back,” Aradel announced. Hearing their groans of dissatisfaction, she added, “But before we do, I believe Kirill needs a hug!”
His expression of annoyance quickly turned to horror as he put an arm out, “Now wait a minute.”
They all abandoned her and streaked right toward him. He took a startled step back just before fourteen little bodies toppled him over. Snow fluffed up around them and Aradel had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. If she laughed, Kirill would never let her hear the end of it.
He slowly disentangled himself from them, though they fought him fiercely. Aradel waited until he was nearly out before she called out, “Time to go!”
With sounds of protest, they slowly got off him and joined her. Kirill stood and dusted the snow off his clothes, shooting her a look that made it clear he didn’t appreciate her little trick. She kept the smile from her lips until she turned away from him, and began leading the children back toward the palace.
When they reached the edge of the lake, Aradel gazed down the road. It was made of stone for ease of travel, but a continual layer of ice under it held it level and in place. Seeing something disconcerting, she put her arms out and stopped the children. A few of them peered around her skirts.
“What is it, Lady Aradel?” one girl asked.
“Kirill?” she called, having completely forgotten their fun.
“Yes, Lady Aradel?” he mocked with a snide grin. “Who are they?” she asked, trying to tuck the children completely behind her.
He followed her gaze and his grin vanished. “Outlanders,” he said, as the people drew closer. “Take the children back.”
She ignored him, wondering why so many of them were coming this way. Kirill stepped onto the road, drawing their attention. They appeared to be beaten and battered, exhausted to their very bones.
Aradel’s eyebrows rose in surprise. She turned toward the children. “Come along,” she said, hurrying them in a row down the road toward the palace. Thank the stars they weren’t far from the castle.
“What is your business here?” she heard Kirill ask, his commander-of-the-guard voice kicking in.
Aradel peered over her shoulder at them. Kirill was blocking the strangers’ way. Her eyes scanned their faces, and she gasped in shock and horror as her gaze fell on one. She pushed past Kirill toward the crowd which parted for her. The people likely recognized her necklace, which marked her as a member of t
he elite, those few chosen as possible successors to Queen Vesna.
She stopped before an old woman. When the woman lifted her head, Aradel could barely manage to keep herself from gasping again. Her entire cheek was covered in fractured skin, looking like ice after someone stomped on and cracked it.
Aradel touched the woman’s face letting her powers fill the wound. The fractured skin mended, but it was likely that she would have that faded blue mark of healing for the rest of her life. Once it got into the skin, nothing could make it vanish.
“What happened?” Aradel whispered, and the old woman’s eyes filled with tears.
“The spring,” she said, her voice heavy with emotion. “The spring came early.”
Aradel contemplated Kirill’s expression, who had come forward, and he appeared to be as shocked as she was. She glanced behind at the children huddled together for comfort. The spring meant everyone had to go back behind The Wall, the magnificent, magical ice structure at the northern border of the Frost Nation. The Wall kept the warmth of the spring and summer out of their land and kept the frost people safe from danger of the heat. Beyond The Wall were the farmlands and it was harvest season. Something was wrong if the Outlanders would abandon their fields so early.
Aradel turned back to the old woman. “Where is Lord Drykus?”
“Dead,” a man to her right said. “The heat was too great.”
“He died so we could come to tell the Queen,” another woman called out.
“An honorable man,” a young man added.
Aradel wrapped her fingers around the old woman’s hand and turned to the crowd. “The Queen must be told,” she declared.
Fire: Chapter Two
Darha stood on a small grassy hill overlooking the white crests of the rushing river. They were miles past the edge of the banks where the water usually halted. She had long before pulled up the hood of her gray wool cloak, but it wasn’t just because of the cold wind blowing; it was to hide her trembling. Her people couldn’t see how distraught she was. If they knew, they would panic. Lucky for Queen Darha, her older brother Coor and sister-in-law Thea were holding it together as they executed their specific duties.
Coor was on the river’s edge with the Derser Rects, the planetary religious sect of the Fire Nation, as they took samples of the ground, water, and even the air along the flooded river. Coor was overseeing them with calm diligence, which greatly comforted her. Darha glanced over to her left and saw Thea, who was overseeing the evacuations of the southern regions. Thea was already gazing her with deep concern. Darha couldn’t hide anything from Thea. She was too perceptive, and knew Darha too well. They’d grown up together, after all. Seeing Thea, in her fitted black leather armor, with her red cloak flying in the wind, and the brown craggy rocks of the landscape rising behind her, Darha felt a little calmer. Coor and Thea were pictures of strength, strength the Queen did not have right now. Not in the face of this.
Darha’s red gown and heavy cloak blew to the side, and the cold wind hit her legs in such a way that she instantly felt them go stiff. Her skin got so painfully hard that she clenched her teeth, but hid it as best she could. She would not let her people see her suffering.
Composing herself, Darha rotated her wrist to try to work the stiffness out of it, but she knew the attempt was futile. Being outdoors during a storm was a huge risk these days, since the storms were getting colder, and one was brewing now. Cold weather was dangerous, and possibly even fatal, to the people of the Fire Nation.
Observing the line of evacuees making their way out of the southern regions, she noticed the cold was making everyone a little stiff. Some were having trouble walking, and a few small children were being carried. Darha desperately wanted to use her fire to warm her skin, but if her people couldn’t warm the stiffness out of their skin, she wasn’t about to warm the stiffness out of her own. Most of them were not magic users.
Darha only had herself to blame for suffering in this cool weather anyway. Coor and Thea had tried to talk her out of coming for fear of her safety, and Darha had nearly let them, but she had wanted to see this for herself.
Now, she wished she’d stayed home.
An enormously loud hiss filled the valley. The Queen’s head snapped to the right where the sound originated. A new pillar of steam rose up just a half a mile away. Rising floodwater of the River Gora had been cooling a few long-standing lava pools along the south and west coasts of the Fire Nation. Now, houses along the river were being flooded as well.
Darha looked back at the river and saw Coor coming up the hill toward her. With every step he took, she felt a little more strength. His armor was gold and red, colors that marked him as a General, and his cloak was black. His well-trimmed, honey blonde beard and moustache nearly concealed his frown and stiff upper lip, but Coor’s emotions tended to travel up into his hazel eyes anyway. He was worried.
Darha gazed up at her brother desperately. “Do they know anything yet?”
Coor shook his head and rested his hand on her shoulder. “No, not yet.”
“Do they have a clue?” she begged.
He rested his other hand on her shoulder as if to hold her together. “All we can do right now is get these people to safety, then head back to the palace and wait for the results.”
Panic rose in her chest. She glanced away from Coor to hide it, but her brother knew her better than that. “Darha, you have to calm down. You can’t let your people see you like this.”
“I know. I know,” she said, and then met his eyes again. “But I’m scared.”
Coor nodded. “I know you are.”
Darha shook her head. “How do you fight this?”
Coor sighed helplessly.
“How do you stop nature that’s bent on killing your entire nation? How do you fight a storm, Coor?” she cried, giving into the panic for a moment.
“Hey, hey,” Coor said, gripping her shoulders more firmly and lowering himself to her eye level. “We will figure it out.”
“Coor! Darha!” Both turned in the direction of Thea’s voice. She made her way up the grassy hill until she was in front of them. “The team that went to the East is returning.”
All three of them headed down the hill to meet the approaching mounted scouts that were coming up along the edge of the river. Darha was in no shape to deal with this. If they were coming back this soon, the news was almost certainly going to be devastating.
The front man of the six-man team dismounted his horse and gave a bow to the Queen. “What of the Eastern Bridge?” Thea asked.
The look in his eyes told Darha all she needed to know. He shook his head sadly. “It’s gone.”
“Damn,” Thea said softly, bowing her head.
Two bridges crossed the River Gora leading to the hostile Frost Nation to the south. The two nations had had bad blood between them for hundreds of years, but they needed the trade the Frost Nation offered—oil and wood to keep lamps and hearths lit, and livestock fences mended. In return, the Fire Nation provided them with the metal tools they needed for their livelihood. One of those bridges was now lost.
Darha’s heart was racing because the scouts that had been sent to check on the Western Bridge hadn’t returned yet. If that bridge was gone as well, both nations would slowly suffocate. That is, if they didn’t flood first.
Thea faced Darha, and her heart clenched at seeing the sadness in Thea’s usually strong, confidant eyes. “Your majesty, why don’t you head back to the palace? There’s nothing more you can do here, and it’s getting stormy.”
Darha couldn’t deny she wanted to go home, but as all royalty had to consider, how would it be perceived if she left before the other scout team even returned? Would it be frowned upon by the public? Would they panic? Or would they accept the excuse that it was for or own safety?
“Coor, go with her,” Thea said, taking the public opinion into consideration, too. If the prince left as well, the public would more readily understand that there was no need for the
royal family to stay. “I’ll wait for the western team and continue to oversee the evacuations.”
Coor gave an appreciative nod and then leaned in and kissed his wife’s lips. “Be safe.”
Thea nodded and touched Darha’s shoulder as Coor guided her toward the royal carriage. Darha followed with no complaint. She wanted to go home. She felt bad about wanting to go home, but she did.
She climbed into the carriage and leaned heavily against the interior wall, letting herself get lost in her own thoughts and fears. The fact that nature itself was on the offensive had had her losing sleep for months.
It started with the increase in volcanic eruptions on the north coast and the islands. Storm had increased as well. The Fire Nation usually only saw two to three hurricanes a year; this year they’d seen seven. The palace and the capital, Vlid, weren’t as affected since they were located farther inland, but the people on the north, east, and west coastlines, which were mainly made up of farming families, had been devastated more than once this year. Food production was at its lowest since Darha’s great-grandmother had reigned. Now, the River Gora had swelled inland four miles. Nature was in an unprecedented uproar, and it felt like her nation was unraveling at the seams.
Why did this have to happen during her reign? She could handle men, and the rebel antics of the magic haters just fine, but nature? How did you stop nature from killing you?
Frost: Chapter Three
As they walked along the main thoroughfare through town, Kirill watched Aradel closely. She was speaking with the elder woman whose face she had mended, and had also drawn a young girl to her side. The young girl’s hand had a little crack on it that Aradel had done her best to heal. . Yet it shouldn’t have been warm enough to crack skin, not for a few more months. If Aradel was worried about this, she hid it well—a talent she had had since she was a child.