Realm of Ice

by Angela J. Ford

  Dread filled her, and a hush of voices overcame her. Holding onto the fur, Citrine tumbled and her feet met solid stone. With a cry she fled until a hand grabbed hers. Therian. Not beast. Although it was hard to make that distinction anymore. The person dragged her into a narrow passageway just as a beast hurled itself at them. A squeak left her lips, and then a hush came over her as she entered a light-filled room.

  The entrance was just wide enough for a person to squeeze through, but too narrow for a beast. Torch light flicked across the room, and a handful of people stood or sat, some holding their heads, others caring for various wounds. The last of the Therian. Citrine glanced at the person who had led her there. A stranger. Her eyes scanned the room, and she took a deep breath, keeping the panic down. They were all strangers, those she'd seen when she first entered Stronghold, people she had not yet had the chance to meet.

  The male who had led her there raised his hands as though quieting everyone down, although they were already silent. Citrine froze where she stood beside him, taking in the somber faces of old and young alike.

  "I am Colden; many of you know me as one of the Lords of the Therian, but the time for titles is over. You saw what happened out there. Despite our differences, we know it was not because of our enemies nor because of what Lord Nodin did. Nay, that was an act of nature, of the mountain coming down around our ears. We always knew there was a possibility this could happen, and now that it has, we have to decide what to do. We are safe, for now, but lack food and water. We will not last long down here, for our exit is trapped not only by rock but also by our own who have turned into wild beasts. I would ask that we not give in to panic and devastation yet. We must act together if we are to get through this together. First, I would ask that we section off into groups to talk through a plan of action and discuss together in a cohesive voice. We need volunteers to look for exits, we need weapons to fight the beasts that were once our own, and more than anything, we need food and water to sustain us."

  "What about Nodin and Elbron? Are they dead?" someone asked.

  Colden shrugged his broad shoulders. "We don't know. When the passageway collapsed it was difficult to see in the dark. If they survived, they will join us here. They know the way. For now, all we can do is wait for more survivors to come until we have volunteers who will seek them out."

  Citrine noticed a few of the Therian looking at her. Their faces were dark, unfriendly, and suddenly she wanted to leave. A feeling of being trapped came over her, and her stomach hurt.

  "What about her?" someone asked. "Nodin brought her here to help us!"

  Colden turned toward Citrine. His face was large, flat, and a beard covered his jaw. He wore a gray fur loosely around his shoulders, and his chest was bare. He folded his meaty hands. "What do they call you?"

  Citrine frowned. "My name is Citrine."

  "Citrine. Brought here by Lord Nodin. Do you have the power to help us?"

  That was the question she'd asked herself all along. But her bag of herbs was gone along with her precious book of spells. Citrine patted herself through her furs and felt the pieces of the Clyear of Revelation. She wondered, briefly, if it would come back together if she pulled it out, and give her a vision of how to help the Therian. And help herself escape. She could not die trapped in a cave full of strangers. She'd be damned if she let that happen. Even with the help of her beasts, there was no way they could move the stones to set her free. A vacant expression came over her face, and she recalled the hall of the Frost Queen and the constant sound of digging. She closed her eyes, closed her mind, and listened.

  There. Far in the deep. Beyond the frustrated whispers of the wild beasts and the moans of the dying, she heard something else. It was faint, but it rang out against the stone, like something hard striking something just as hard, again and again. Digging. Could the mountain folk be digging toward them? Was it possible?

  "Can you help? Or are you mute?" Colden's irritated voice demanded.

  Citrine snapped back to the present and opened her eyes. Her lips curled up, and she raised her chin. "Give me some time. I might have a way to help us escape."

  33

  Storm

  The beast roared and the mountain trembled in response. An appropriate response, Tor Lir thought as he crossed his arms. Ice surrounded him, fissuring as the quake continued. Tor Lir waited for the dizzying sensation of fear to push all logic out of his mind. It never came. Nothing but smoldering discomfort perched on his shoulders. He eyed the Frost Queen, who stared, intoxicated, at the creature, basking in its beastly fury. He understood that lust for power, the pull of chaos, the destruction of her enemies. The beast was awake, the mountainside ripe for destruction. He was part of this.

  "You can speak plainly now," he told her, his voice as cold as the frost that covered the ledge they stood on. "Why did you wake this beast? What is your plan?"

  The Frost Queen turned lidded eyes on him. "They made me suffer," she whispered, her fingers clenched into fists. "Now it's their turn to suffer for their misdeeds."

  Tor Lir pointed to the massive bear. "You are aware this beast will take down the mountain, and if Citrine is buried with the Therian, how can she tame it?”

  A hollow sensation passed through him, an emotion he could not name.

  "She is resourceful. She will find a way," the Frost Queen declared. "But you are right, the Kodiak will bring down the mountain; we must return below."

  "Kodiak?" Tor glanced at her as he backed away.

  The bear reared up on its hind legs, bellowing in confusion and anger. The air turned stale, and a sharp wind blew Tor Lir's hair flat on his head. He shielded his eyes with his hand as snow whipped up. The bear bounded off in the direction of Stronghold.

  "Kodiak. It's the name of that creature, an unusually large beast that rules the mountains. He will destroy everything in his wake until she stops him, but we called him forth using Orenda. When the pool of power is drained, he will die."

  Tor Lir's brow furrowed. "A pool of power?"

  "Aye." The Frost Queen beckoned to him. "When I looked into the Clyear of Revelation, I saw what caused the Therian to turn wild. Orenda seeped into their water supply, likely encouraged by the Therian they call Lord Nodin. They began to turn wild, one after the other, and nothing can bring them back. It will cease when the line of Therian are destroyed or the pool of Orenda is empty."

  "I don't understand, how can power empty or run out?"

  The Frost Queen laughed. "It is how power goes. Surely you know? Power is given to a few and for some once they use up all of their power, it fades and never returns. Others have an endless supply. Orenda is meant to be infused or taken in. Once it is within you, it is yours to keep. Forever. As far as I know. If it is outside of you, and not awakened, it will fade into the ether, the In-Between as some call it. You have used the power of Orenda to awaken Kodiak; it is within you. In the same way, Citrine will use the knowledge the Clyear grants her to awaken the power of Orenda within her. It will give her the strength she needs to tame Kodiak."

  "What if she did not look into it?" Tor Lir demanded. "You base your plan on mindless assumptions."

  The Frost Queen shrugged. “Come." She moved farther into the passage. "We should hurry before this ledge collapses. There's a reason I changed my mind about killing you. If Citrine does not tame the beast, you will have to."

  Tor Lir stared, and a sudden fury rose so strong he thought he’d choke on it. He wanted to reach out with his bare hands and rip something, anything, apart, but he did not understand the emotion. Why was he stirred to violence when he usually used his words to resolve situations? What was it about the Cascade Mountains and the Therian that brought out the darker side of him?

  "Then you have sent her to her death," he stated.

  The Frost Queen shrugged. "I tried to kill you; I do not see why it matters."

  His jaw clenched. "Because you are soulless," he growled.

  A flush came over her white face. "I
am doing something about the things that happened to me. Most people sit and wait for something to happen to them in their lives, but I refuse to be that way. I take matters into my own hands, I take action and, yes, those actions have consequences. I am aware, but I have accepted my fate. Now come and stop asking questions."

  A lump stuck in his throat, and he thought of what he’d seen in the Clyear. His shadow offered to help, to reveal a slice of power that could assist him. Was he willing to dig into a dark knowledge, something that might be evil in exchange for salvation? But who was he saving and why? Would stopping the beast be enough? His heart pounded, and he tasted blood in his throat as he considered. When he looked down, he saw a green shimmer around his hands.

  Another roar smote the air, shattering icicles. Cracks splintered up the ledge, and the once-firm ground beneath Tor Lir’s feet trembled. Regardless of the danger, he moved closer to the ledge, ignoring the Frost Queen’s shouts.

  White fury surrounded him. Screams and cries echoed in the wind as it whipped up, hurling snow across the peaks. There was the mineral smell of blood in the air. Snow fringed his eyelids, and a deep abiding cold made his teeth chatter. He glanced back to look at the Frost Queen, but the ferocity of the storm hid her from view.

  He took another step toward the void, sucking in air so cold it felt like it would freeze his lungs. Was he mad? Had he lost his mind? But there was nothing left to lose and so he took another step until he teetered on the edge of the ledge.

  A chunk fell away, lost in the moaning wind. Stones rolled down all around him, crashing and banging against ice and rock. Roars and howls filled the air and then a flash of lightning, bright, intense, cut through the storm. Or was it fire? For the faint smell of roasting meat came and faded in the wind.

  Tor Lir crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. In his mind he pictured his shadow, a green flame, white tentacles, and words. Words he did not want to hear gusted around him.

  Ever since he'd left Sanga Sang, he'd made mistake after mistake. He'd resorted to violence and selfishness, let his friends down to die in an attack, awoken a beast who would destroy the mountain folk. He did not know why, but he wanted to save them; he wanted to stop the madness. And so, he took one final step. His foot touched nothing but air as he stepped off the ledge and dropped into the storm.

  34

  Power

  Citrine sat stiffly against the solid wall, blocking out the voices around her. Occasionally a wild beast would hurl itself at the narrow opening and shake the room. Soft murmurs rang out as worries were vocalized, but Citrine ignored them. She was lost in her own thoughts. When she closed her eyes, she saw a white mist, a ball of Silver-White Light. It bloomed, sending out fingers of energy like flower petals. If Citrine reached out, she could have it to herself, have it as her own. When she breathed in, the light floated nearer until the haze glowed about her. She stared at it and remembered. Words spoken in the land of Novor Tur-Woodberry came floating back.

  A future will come when the mortals must flee and run to the caves and canyons to hide from the domain of the immortals. For those without death will rise, and the Creators will have free will to enact their reign of chaos. . . The release of uncanny power will be the ultimate downfall of the mortals.

  When it ceased speaking, the light invaded her. It rushed forward in a halo of glory, smashed into her chest, descended into her throat, and sent a tingling sensation from the tips of her toes to the bottom of her belly and the pads of her fingers. A heady elation filled her, almost like the euphoric sensation of pleasure. She took another breath, and it centered in her core, twirled around her, and squeezed.

  Suddenly, she saw in color. Golden light wafted from her fingertips while an eerie glow centered on her. It was like she was a spirit looking down on a vacant body. She closed her hands and opened them again, watching the light dance on her palms. The realization thudded through her, and she sat up straight as the vision faded. Eyes closed, she listened, and for the first time understood the wild whispers. They pressed around her in a frenzy of angst, but she held firm and reached out her mind to leash them.

  One by one, she found the threads of communication and touched them with her mind.

  The memory of a slap almost made her grab her cheeks. Mother always said she should listen, but never control the beasts. But these were wild, too far gone, and if she did not exert control, they would break the sacred vow she held her beasts to and harm the mortals. It did not matter if they had brought this upon themselves; more than anything she needed to get out of there.

  Her thoughts flickered back to Elbron and Nodin, and with a pang she wondered if they were still alive. And what about Zilpha? Conflicting emotions rose. What happened to her? Had she fled only to be buried under rubble? Nodin had hoodwinked Zilpha, and because no one spoke up to stop her, the mistakes and mistrust had led to her demise. Citrine chewed on her lower lip and then pushed the thought away. She would not take on Zilpha's plight; she had enough to worry about. Once she got out of this mess and found Tor Lir, they could grieve properly for the people they'd lost in the cursed Cascade Mountains.

  Threads of communication wrapped around Citrine like vines, and she knitted them together, creating one point to communicate with the creatures. As their frantic whispers cascaded, she pushed white light through the thread, basking in the ambience of her newfound power. It flowed toward the beasts with the single command Citrine ordered:

  Hush your cries. I am here. Mother of all beasts. I will protect you, but you have broken the oath, the vow. You shall not harm another. Around us the walls and stones fall, but your cries make it worse. If you want me a find a way for you to live, hush, listen.

  The moans faded but came back just as strong. It was as though she tried to tame a wild horse that bucked and wheeled, champing at the bit, struggling to regain its freedom. Citrine’s mind flashed back to the tower in Sanga Sang where she had tried and failed to control Chimera, Nodin’s cousin, Elbron’s sister. She recalled the death of the creature and how it made her feel, the strange sorrow that billowed around her. She reached out with the white light and tried again. This time she could not call her beasts and flee. She had to face whatever was down there, in the dark and cold, trapped among the rocks.

  Hush, oath-breakers. Listen to me. I am Citrine the Enchantress. I protect the beasts who follow me, but you must cease this wildness. You must swear to follow me.

  We will not swear, a wild voice came back, slamming against her thoughts with such force Citrine almost physically flew backward. A flare of anger scratched her throat, and she opened her eyes.

  The dark eyes of the Therian stared back, and when she looked down at her hands, she saw a golden glow. She stared. Something odd was at work. What was it? Whatever it was, being near the Therian had awoken something uncanny with her, but they would all die if she did not come up with a plan. The beasts were stubborn, but when she searched her feelings, the fear wasn’t as strong as she expected.

  She squared her shoulders and faced the Therian.

  “Do you have a plan?” Colden asked.

  Citrine pointed to the door. “We are going out there.”

  Colden crossed his arms. “Why?”

  Citrine lifted her chin. “Because you are the Therian. This is your home, Stronghold, a home you’ve long fought for in the past. Once again, you are being attacked and yet you hide when you have the power to shift into beasts and drive back the wild ones that dwell in your midst. You drove them to the dungeons here, refusing to let them run free. Surely you have the power to hold them back while we seek escape. We don’t know if the avalanche will continue, we don’t know if the rocks will crash down upon us and trap us here, so we have to move while we have the time. I just need to find the route.”

  “She’s right,” a voice near the entrance said.

  The Therian collectively turned, and Citrine took a sharp breath in. Nodin stood before them. A purple bruise covered the side of his face, and
blood dripped off one arm. His amber eyes had gone a shade darker.

  A shiver went up Citrine’s spine, and she scowled. “Where is Elbron?”

  Nodin glared at her. “Crushed.”

  Citrine folded her arms. “How did you escape?”

  His gaze went darker still. “A bull is hard to slay.”

  “As is a bear,” Citrine rejoined.

  A sudden image of Elbron’s bear form being skewered by a bull made her feel sick. Had Nodin killed his cousin? Had he gone too far?

  She glanced around the room. Tension hummed thick, ready to explode. When she looked back at Nodin, his pupils had dilated and slowly, he transformed back into a bull.

  “Stop him,” Colden shouted. “He’s turning wild!”

  35

  Alone

  Cold enveloped Tor Lir in its deathly embrace. When he opened his eyes a whirlwind of ice and snow swept past his face in a ceaseless blizzard. When he closed his eyes, there was nothing but blackness as dark as the evening tides. Breath fled from his body, and his limbs went numb. The blanket of whiteness was like a cocoon of safety, nested away from the woes of the Therian, the treachery of the Frost Queen and the cries of the mountain folk whose very existence was being wiped out by the perilous beast: Kodiak.