“Who are your enemies? What are you warring about?” Citrine pressed. “It makes my job difficult if there will be endless fighting. I don’t intend to get in the middle of a feud.”
“You are already in the middle of it.” Elbron’s voice went gruff. “The Frost Queen and her minions are the number one enemy, and the Tribe of Minas has some animosity toward the Therian, even though we did come together, before my lifetime, to fight for Stronghold.”
“Ah. The Frost Queen,” Citrine lifted her chin and glared back at Tor Lir.
He felt personally affronted by her glare, but if only she knew what he’d done. Her accusation last night, although unfair, was true. He claimed to have power and yet all he used was his sixth sense about balance and his tongue. When it came to a battle, he was woefully unequipped and powerless. He’d had Hava teach him sword-fighting, but unarmed he was weak.
“What power does the Frost Queen have?” Citrine asked.
Before Elbron could respond, a shadow fell over the snow and a figure stepped out of a clump of pine trees and held up a hand.
17
Balance
Citrine cocked her head at the person who stepped out of the trees and realized it was the same fur-covered figure she’d seen earlier during the battle. It was a girl of perhaps ten years of age—possibly older or younger—but her frame was thin, and a glossy black braid trailed down into her furs. She was an Ezinck—one of the people groups that usually lived in a forest and had a sacred communion with nature. Her face was painted with swirls and black marks, and her eyes were odd, staring at them as she held up her hand.
Elbron cleared his throat and moved toward the girl, a growl escaping from his lips. “What are you doing out here? You’re too young, it’s too dangerous. Go home!”
Citrine shuddered at his direct command, but the girl ignored him. “You should go back,” she whispered, her direct gaze falling on first Citrine and then Tor Lir. “Your presence here can do nothing good. It’s said that outsiders should never interfere with what happens in the mountains, and I believe that is true. You appeared in the sky and war broke out again. You need to go. Leave us in peace.”
Citrine raised an eyebrow and sucked on the inside of her cheek. The words wrapped around her like a veiled threat. How could she let a child frighten her? Memories of Novor Tur-Woodberry’s Paradise danced on the edges of her memories, and she recalled the child—Kai—who made her wish for things that were not possible. A longing stuck in her throat, and out of habit she reached out threads of communication to her beasts.
Tor Lir crossed his arms and came up alongside her. Citrine scowled, stopping short of reaching out a foot to trip him up. It was petty, but she was entirely frustrated with him for a reason she could not pinpoint. Was it his frozen grief? His silent fury? As she spent more time with him, she noticed an attraction, an awakening within. It frightened her.
“Who told you these things?” Tor Lir asked, no expression on his smooth face. “Do you see the future? Do you know what will happen if we leave? A plague has broken out in Stronghold, and we are the only ones who can save the Therian. Let us do that and then we will be on our way.”
The girl’s nostrils flared, and her eyes flashed as she glared at Tor Lir. Her gaze fell to his sword, and she spat in the snow. “My grandmother says outsiders like you are always arrogant and believe they know what is best for the world. You know nothing about us. Leave. While you can.”
“Did your grandmother send you?” Tor Lir asked coolly, his tone mocking.
The child scowled harder and her gaze darted to the pines. “No, but someone had to tell you before you ruin everything!”
Tor Lir opened his mouth, but Citrine slapped his chest lightly. “Be quiet,” she snarled. “Your words are getting us nowhere.” She stepped forward, proud to remember she was much better with beasts and children than Tor Lir. “I am Citrine,” she told the child. “And I do not wish to be here either. Who is your grandmother? May I speak with her?”
Elbron turned and blocked her, his amber eyes boring into her face. “Citrine,” his tone dropped. “You don’t know about her people, nor do you want to.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Citrine returned softly. “There is an air of animosity here and I want to find out. You and Tor Lir back off and let me talk to her.”
Elbron shook his head. “It’s not a good idea.”
“Because of what you know? Or because of what I might find out about the Therian?” Citrine snapped. Her annoyance at the situation and Tor Lir surfaced, forcing her to lash out at everyone. She pushed past Elbron, ignoring the shiver that went through her as she brushed against his burly bulk. She had to stay focused on the mission. Go to Stronghold. Save the Therian. Find the Udi. Save them from the sea creature. Gain a home for her and her beasts. She kept the scowl off her face as she walked up to the child. Her quest was all coming down to saving people, which was ironic considering she only wanted to save herself. Why did chaos follow her? Was it her or was it Tor Lir? Thoughts of white beings with hair like tentacles made her shudder. If the Truth Tellers were appearing, something much deeper and darker was going on. Wasn’t it? Didn’t they only appear when events would lead to the end of the world? Or perhaps her imagination was getting the better of her.
The child shuffled back toward the tree line, and Citrine sensed a vibration coming from her body. Her eyes were large in her face, and although the fur covered her body, Citrine could tell she was unnaturally skinny underneath. Was her tribe starving?
Citrine dropped her voice. “I saw you before during the battle. You watched the archers shoot us out of the sky.”
The child narrowed her eyes, and a hostility flashed in them. Citrine shifted in discomfort. She’d said the wrong thing. “I do not reproach you,” she hastily said. “Only, you are right. You dwell here in the mountains and you know the ways of the people groups who live here. I was asked—against my will—to come here and resolve the crisis the Therian face. But I sense you know more. Will you help me? Will you tell me what you know?”
The child’s gaze roved over Citrine’s face—cold and calculating, like the way Ava examined her prey before pouncing. Finally, bitter words came to her lips. “My grandmother says those who meddle in the affairs of others cause chaos. You will upset the balance in the mountains. You should leave.”
“Balance,” Citrine repeated, stung. A thought drifted to her. Slow and surely. Eyes misting over, she recalled every incident she’d been involved in. Was it possible that Tor Lir’s arrival had inadvertently swayed the balance? All this time had she assumed everything was her fault when it was his? But nay, blame was too easy to pass around, she had to take responsibility for her own actions. “Please. I want to know more. My companions will stay here while I go to your grandmother with you.”
The child frowned and then she pointed. Citrine turned around, looking past Elbron and Tor Lir to where the child indicated. As she did, the vibration she felt near the child ceased. When she spun around, snow flew up in her face. The child had disappeared back into the trees.
Citrine cursed.
Tor Lir snorted. “Tricked you, eh?”
Citrine scowled. “If you say one more word, I will personally relieve you of your tongue.”
Tor Lir quirked a brow but wisely said nothing more.
18
Wait
Elbron pointed at a dip between two hills at the rise of the mountain, covered with ice and snow. Greenery retracted from the areas as though banished by some foe, and a chill wind blew, forcing Citrine to cover her nose with fur.
“Down in the valley, you will gain entrance to her domain,” Elbron said. “I will stay here and wait.”
“Wait?” Citrine sputtered.
Elbron’s amber eyes gleamed as he looked down his nose at her. “I have no desire to confront the Frost Queen with you.”
Citrine coughed and snorted, wiping her eyes with her fur. “But you can shift into the bear. Why are
you afraid?”
“It is not fear. It is sense,” Elbron rejoined, his eyes darkening.
Citrine examined him. Thick scar. Odd eyes. Big arms.
A whistling came through the air, and she turned away, reaching out threads of communication. Grift. Ava. Where are you?
Grift’s response came first. Right above you. Hidden by the clouds. I never go far when you are in need.
Citrine’s heart warmed. How did you know?
I sense it. There is something uncanny in the air. I don’t like it.
Ah. So he felt it too. Is it like a vibration? Because I feel it too.
I know you made a promise, but we should leave as soon as possible.
This again. Citrine’s fingers reached for her knife. Trust me. We will. As soon as I have answers.
The connection faded, replaced by Ava’s dominant vibrance. Hunting boar in the mountain ranges. They present a challenging target but well worth it for the meat. Sweet meats. Ava all but hissed.
Ava. Citrine grinned, and a fierce longing for her beasts swept through her. Iron determination rose. She wanted a home. She needed to be with her beasts in safety where they could hunt and seek together. Enough was enough. I might need you. When you get done hunting, come back this way and do watch out for arrows.
As you wish.
Citrine lifted her chin and glanced at Tor Lir. “Ready?”
Instead of responding, Tor Lir gave his sword a few expert swings before taking the lead.
“She’s a seductress,” Elbron’s warning barreled toward them.
Citrine jerked her chin back at him, but instead of meeting her gaze, he stepped back into the shadows of the trees to hide.
There was nothing much to see, except white upon shades of gray. Their footfalls left deep prints in the snow, but when Citrine looked down, she saw Tor Lir walked above the snow while she sank in. Scowling, she let the silence between them stretch thin and taut like a string that would snap under the tension.
“I slept with her,” Tor Lir admitted. “Seductress or not, I knew it was wrong, and I gave in to temptation.”
Citrine gaped openly at Tor Lir’s blunt display of honesty. Why was he telling her this?
“At first I thought she was one of them. The Therian. She can change into a fox, and I assumed she would lead me to Stronghold. All this time, I’ve been seeking a way to escape. Citrine. . .” His emerald eyes glowed. “You once accused me of running away from something, and you’re right. I am. I’m not sure who I am—”
Citrine held up her hand, uncomfortable with his confessions. “You do know who you are. You are the Nameless One who balances good and evil.” She couldn’t help adding some sarcasm to her last words. “Although there shouldn’t be a balance between good and evil.”
“No.” Tor Lir sped up. “There’s more to who I really am. I recall my mother.”
Citrine lengthened her strides, astonished at the turn of the conversation. Studying Tor Lir’s angular face, she could see nothing but cold hostility in his expression. As usual. With hints of his charm and the uncanny scent of the forest that always drifted around him. Where was the calculating, annoying Tor Lir she’d met at the house of Novor Tur-Woodberry? “I thought a green giantess raised you?” Citrine offered.
Tor Lir gave her a sidelong glance, his long lashes sweeping down to his cheeks. Reaching up, he ran limber fingers through his black hair.
To Citrine, the movement showed off a strange handsomeness, and she felt a bloom of warmth pass through her. A sigh of frustration escaped her lips. Was she drawn to every male? Had it been so long since she’d been held?
“Citrine,” Tor Lir said her name gently, like a lover. “It is not good for me to hold my anger inside, and I must come clean to you, the one person I have known throughout my adventures in the realm of mortals. The Truth Tellers warned me. Something dark is coming, and the path I travel is full of uncertainty. I don’t want to drag you down with me, but I need you.”
Citrine blinked, but no response came to her lips. Instead of speaking, she lifted her face and examined the landscape. They descended into the valley, and the air was luminous. Gray rock rose up on either side, and after a while, an opening came into view. It was like the doors in the halls of the Stronghold, with silver bedrock instead of blue.
As they drew near, a shadow stirred from beneath the archway, and a short male moved in front of the door. He stood about four feet tall, and a thick black beard grew past his waist, almost to his feet. Pale eyes glared at the two, and the male tapped a pickaxe against the ground. A cloud of smoke drifted above his head, and he pulled a pipe from his mouth. It was only then Citrine noticed the faint scent of tobacco that hung briefly in the air, quickly dissipating in the wind.
“Who infringes upon the doorstep of the Frost Queen?” the male demanded.
19
Terms
Tor Lir stared down at the male, noticing he resembled the Singing Men who lived with Novor Tur-Woodberry. Perhaps he was a kind of Fúlishité. Hair covered the male's face, making it impossible to gain a sense of his expressions, although his voice betrayed he was not impressed. Tor Lir squared his shoulders and took a deep breath to calm his tone. Words snaked out into the cold, accusatory and demanding. "The Frost Queen stole something from me—” Citrine poked him in the ribs. "Us. We have come to take it back."
The Fúlishité glared from Tor Lir to Citrine. Turning, he lifted his ax and tapped on the gates. A grating sound made Tor Lir put his hands to his ears. The stone doors were dragged open inward, and the Fúlishité set off into the opening without glancing back.
Tor Lir hesitated, but when Citrine moved toward the gates, he followed, eyeing their surroundings with discomfort.
The cavern walls curved up at odd angles, and a light shone out of them, purple and blue. A silvery aura hung like a light and permeated the halls. It was cold, much colder than Stronghold, and Tor Lir wished he had another cloak inlaid with fur to keep him warm.
Beside him, Citrine slipped and gasped, her hands flailing for support. Tor Lir hesitated and then dropped his arm around her waist to steady her. Instead of elbowing him in the ribs, she drew closer, her hands shaking with cold. His heart lurched, and he wanted to tiptoe his fingers down the map of her body and explain, once again, how sorry he was for dragging her into the disaster. As thoughts crossed his mind, he realized the desperation for forgiveness wasn't aimed toward Citrine at all. It was just that she was the only one alive to hear his supplication. The words he desired to say were meant for Hava, not Citrine.
He recalled their last words as they left the cave and followed Lord Nodin to meet the Xctas. He’d been determined to forget the dark words from the Truth Tellers, and the terrifying aura of his shadow. His conversation with Citrine only added to his frustration, but that morning, among the snowflakes, he felt a purity as he spoke with Hava. She’d made him laugh, lightened the air around him and banished his dark thoughts. When they reached the Xctas, she’d invited him to ride with her. He’d hesitated, then declined, knowing she only wanted to draw closer to him, and he needed to pull away and be alone with his thoughts without hurting her. If only he’d said yes, when she fell, he could have healed her, could have saved her.
But Hava had been slain, and if the arrows were from the Frost Queen, he had to make her pay. The terms had changed; if the Truth Tellers could demand a life, he could also demand a life for a life.
The halls widened. Drawings appeared on the walls, and carved sculptures were perched along the corridor. One of a tiger, another of a bear, and yet another of a lifelike wolf. Tor Lir started when he saw the first one but quickly realized it was only blue ice, adding a hostile air to the cavern. The silent Fúlishité padding on was unnerving, and then Tor Lir began to hear it.
Echoes hurled through the air like a thousand tingling bells that whispered secrets into the walls of ice and pass musical words one to another. After a few moments of listening, Tor Lir realized it was digging, most
likely more Fúlishités chipping away at the ice, and he could see why. It reminded him of the forest of Shimla and the caves of the Iaen where jewels glittered in abundance, pouring out of the walls like water from the sky. A lust for shining diamonds filled his heart with a hint of nostalgia. When he was young, he'd steal jewels from the Rainidrains and gift them to the Jesnidrains, winning over the females with glittering diamonds, ruby jewels, and emeralds that matched his eyes. They liked those the most. The more colorful, the better. But he was young and playful back then, and no one he'd known or cared about had died. Again, he saw Hava's smile, and the fierceness in the way she held her body as she taught him how to use the sword.
A twitch in his arm made him reach for the hilt of the blade, but the halls curved and opened into a majestic cavern. Tor Lir's eyes were instantly drawn upward, and his jaw dropped at the thousand shining icicles that hung like chandeliers from the arched ceiling. A thousand spikes that could fall and skewer them like spears through a wild boar. A hush hung in the air, as though someone was taking a deep breath and continued to inhale forever. Whispers shook the air, and more of the short-bearded males roamed around the room, ignoring them.
The Fúlishité who had led them moved to the side and pointed his pickaxe toward the center of the room where a staircase, carved of stone, led up to a wide dais. On top stood the Frost Queen.
Tor Lir's body went rigid, and he removed his arm from Citrine’s waist. She said nothing, just stared from Tor Lir to the Frost Queen.
The Queen was dressed in a shapeless cascade of white fur, and yet although it did nothing to add to her beauty it certainly did not take away from it. But Tor Lir's heart hardened, and he saw her not for her physical beauty, but for the conniving of her heart. A deep-seated hatred rose, and even though the room was full of short males armed with axes—some with hammers—he pulled the blade free and strode toward the stairs.
Realm of Ice Page 8