Winter's Crown

by Alexandra Little

  “Trust me.”

  He did as I had told him, sliding slowly back until he was within one of the circles. I stepped backward towards a circle of my own.

  “Don’t move!” the tallest of the looters shouted at me, but his voice shook.

  Something clattered on the stone, the metallic sound echoing through the great hall. It was Marden’s crowbar, and Marden was gone.

  The looters stared at the crowbar, holding their lanterns over the fallen tool, as if Marden would suddenly reappear. The blackness crept back from their lanterns’ light. The three of them didn’t seem to notice.

  “Marden?” one of them asked.

  “Marden!” a second called, his voice shaking.

  The orange glow of their lanterns seemed to repel the curl of shadow, but only slightly.

  “Where is he?” Aerik asked.

  “Dead.” I knew it with certainty. The shadow—whatever it was—avoided the seals, and didn’t like the light. But it liked Marden far too much.

  The tendrils of darkness swept outward, surrounding the three men and reaching towards us.

  One of the men panicked and ran, back towards where he had come from, his lantern trembling in his hands.

  “Wait!” The tallest of them yelled, but then I blinked and when I looked again, his hammer and lantern had fallen to the ground, the flame flaring in the spilled oil. The remaining man screamed, but it was cut off as an apparition formed in the darkness in front of him. It took the shape of a tall, pale man. His hair was long and gray. He was cloaked in black, and wore a silver crown on his head. He was not solid as a man but translucent; the apparition’s form seemed to fade in and out, as if it did not have the strength to maintain itself. Then the darkness crept forward from the apparition and consumed the stricken looter.

  I heard a half-voiced prayer from Aerik, silenced as the apparition turned its attention towards us.

  The words came to me unbidden, in the language used in the ruins. They sounded foreign and felt strange on my tongue, but I knew what they meant all the same. “You will not come near me and mine.”

  The tendrils retreated from where Aerik and I stood. The last looter did not seem to come under my protection. I heard a scream, cut off suddenly, from the direction of where he had run.

  Though there was no expression on the crowned apparition’s face, I felt its pleasure at the kill, as if I myself had done it. But my words seemed to have an effect; the apparition could step no closer. But another apparition came into view, this one with a clear form.

  Mother was dead, but here she was all the same. She stood still, as if caught in one place and unable to move farther, an odd thing when she had been always hurrying about, always so busy. She was in her coattails and britches, as if she was at the helm of the Daring once more. All that moved was her golden hair, twisting about as if it was caught in a sea’s breeze. I could even smell the salt, and the seaweed, and for a moment I heard the call of gulls and the distant rush of waves on the white sand.

  “I miss you,” I whispered.

  My dead mother smiled, her soft face lighting up just as it had in life.

  I felt wetness on my cheek, and I wiped at it.

  “Eva, what is it?” Aerik asked.

  “Don’t you see her?”

  “I see the man. What is he?”

  No, my dead mother wouldn’t be here. Not in this cave in this frozen place. I hardened myself, though I wanted to break and run to her. “It is a trick,” I said in the same tongue that had halted the apparition. I unhooked my lantern, and flung it at my mother. The lantern passed through her and shattered on the floor, the flame igniting the oil.

  My mother faded away.

  I didn’t wait to see what happened to the crowned man. I grabbed Aerik’s arm, and pulled him along in a sprint to our exit.

  Stone ground above. There was a loud bang that echoed on and on; the ground vibrated and a gust of wind propelled us forward. We slammed against the doors. Something cracked, and Aerik cried out.

  I dared the briefest glance backward. One of the unsealed doors had fallen from its hinges, their length reaching to where Aerik and I had stood moments earlier.

  I slid through the door, pulling Aerik behind me. He cradled his arm against his chest. I took his lantern from him and threw it at the foot of the doors. Flames licked along the bottom of the opening.

  “Run,” I shoved him in front of me, pushing him across the dark cavern towards our ropes.

  “I can’t see!”

  “Trust me.”

  I could see everything in the darkness. If anything, my sight was better without the weak cast of the lanterns to interfere. I could see the wide round sweep of the room, the tall dome of the ceiling, a scattering of carved stones on the floor that had crumbled and fallen from above.

  Aerik stumbled as we reached the ropes.

  “Zarah!” I shouted as I fumbled with Aerik’s harness and the rope. “Zarah!”

  “Eva! What’s going on?” Zarah replied from high above. “Everything’s trembling!”

  I got the harness and the rope tied together. “Lift Aerik up! Now!”

  “Come on boys, pull!” Zarah shouted.

  The rope tightened, and he was off the ground. I grabbed my rope and started to loop it through my own harness.

  “Eva, come on!” Zarah called from above.

  But after a moment’s hesitation I let go of the rope. It flailed as they pulled on it and found it slack. Zarah shouted again, but I barely acknowledged her.

  I wasn’t alone down here, and it wasn’t one of the looters.

  It was too late for my rope. I turned.

  The flames far back at the doors had extinguished themselves. And the apparition was suddenly there. It approached with speed, gliding through the shadows with its own tendrils of darkness reaching out. But as it came close enough that I could see the details of its appearance, it halted. There was another seal on the floor—no, a series of seals, large ones with numerous words and markings that I had overlooked before.

  The apparition stood on the edge.

  It had no clear shape, save that of the outline of some person. For a brief moment the apparition solidified into view. It appeared to be a decrepit old man, with a gaunt face and long thinning hair. He wore the same long robes I had seen in some of the drawings around the ruins. On his head was the tall crown, but this time I could tell that had five narrow prongs.

  “Evalandriel,” the apparition said in a raspy, faint voice. Its thin lips didn’t move but instead his voice was a great echo in my mind. “”Evalandriel fa Carrin.”

  “You know me?” It had been a long time since I had heard my formal Northern name.

  “You’ve come home,” it said it in wonder.

  But its wonder chilled me deeper than the freezing cold of this hell. “This is no home,” I said. “It won’t ever be.” I grabbed my rope, sweeping my leg around it and anchoring its length against my calf with my free foot. They hoisted me up, and the apparition disappeared into the darkness.

  My ascent paused. Above me, Tunir and Iasul appeared and they hoisted Aerik over the edge. There were sounds of a scramble as the whole place trembled, and then I was up and over the edge. My hands struggled for a hold on the stone; Zarah grabbed my tunic and yanked me over.

  “What happened?” Zarah demanded as she untied the rope.

  “Leave everything,” I said as Tunir and Iasul yanked Aerik to his feet. “Run.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  I did not enjoy being told to sit and stay as if I was one of my father’s blindly faithful servants. Evidently he thought of me as one, and I was forced to wait in the hall, held captive by a sober-looking guard in his chainmail and wool uniform blocking the exit. I couldn’t begin to guess what was happening to Aerik beyond the door to my father’s inner sanctum. The door at the end of the hall was too thick for eavesdropping.

  The Fort sat at the highest place in the valley and the Lord Governor’s rooms were a
t the top of that. From here I could see the multitude of cannons on the rings of walls that circled the Fort, town, and mining base. The faint lines of the trade roads stretched into the white nothing of the valley, wagons and soldiers moving along them like ants marching obediently behind one another. The storm had swept through quickly, leaving everything covered in white. There was no glass in the windows. I could only surmise that that was some Lord Governor’s doing, whether my father’s or one of his predecessors. Anyone summoned here had time to stand here and freeze and contemplate.

  But it was more than just frozen. The spray of waves breaking across the prow of a ship was freezing as well, and I loved that. No, this place was also cold. Unfeeling. There wasn’t life here, only order. The soldiers’ hourly calls and routine marches could not compare to the raucous laughter of fishermen pulling in a catch, or the seagulls’ screeches as they fought over the fishermen’s rejects.

  “My lady.”

  I turned from the view, expecting the guard, but it was Crowndan, my father’s aide. If he had been out in the storm, he did not look it. His coat was straight and buttoned, his hair smoothed down, his boots scraped free of as much mud as possible. A sword and dagger hung from his belt.

  “Captain,” I said as he bowed low.

  “You look horrendous.”

  My face felt horrendous. Somewhere in the ruins it had been hit. The entire right side must have been a mottled purple bruise by now. I didn’t even remember hitting it. The icy breeze numbed my skin; it had to be the first time I was grateful for the cold of this place.

  Crowndan reached out to touch but I moved back.

  He let his hand fall. “How is Aerik?”

  “He has a fractured arm and bruised ribs.”

  “And you?”

  “My face and my shoulder, but nothing serious. You haven’t been to my caves, have you?”

  “Your father sent me with a few geologists. They don’t want anybody there. I’m afraid you won’t be able to go back either, Eva.”

  I ignored his use of my name, at least for the moment. In the past few weeks he had started taking liberties, acting as if he had the right to be so familiar with me. I could see Father’s influence behind it. “No sign of the men?”

  “None. I’m afraid they’re dead, or will be soon.”

  I nodded. Just as well, though I mourned them. The fewer who knew about the place and the apparition, the better.

  How could Aerik and the looters and me have seen a spirit? And then only I could see my mother…

  “Are you all right? Aside from the bruises.”

  I nodded.

  “You’ve gone pale.” He reached for me again but he was stopped by the groan of the study door. Aerik emerged, his arm splinted. Behind him were Zarah and Sir Aros, her father and the man in charge of the mining operations. After them came Tunir and Iasul. Zarah had befriended me when I had arrived here. There weren’t many girls of our age and rank. When I had gone off to explore, she had been eager to join. Tunir and Iasul, sons of the Captain of the Guard, had been happy to offer their strength. But now Zarah was pale, and Tunir and Iasul looked cowed.

  “What happened—” I began, but the snap of my father calling my name stopped me.

  “Worry about yourself,” Aerik said kindly, with a hint of pity.

  Zarah said nothing, but mouthed ‘sorry’ as she passed.

  Crowndan saluted Sir Aros, who saluted in return before giving me a perfunctory bow. Mother had tolerated protocol but hated ceremonious formalities like this. It took up too much time.

  “Eva, now.”

  I was taking a deep breath before I even realized I had to steady myself, and I stepped into my father’s innermost domain.

  Lord Baradan, head of House Carrin, knight of several noble orders, close friend of the Emperor, was my father. It was hard to see much of a resemblance between us. His face was square, the angles hard, his brow straight and forehead narrow. My nose was similar to his I suppose, though his had been broken at some point, and my hair did curl like his, but his was dark and cut much shorter. I certainly wasn’t built like him—we were both tall, yes, but his broadness fitted his position of power better than any symbol. Even sitting behind his desk he still seemed to fill the room.

  The symbols were there, though. The gold chain of office draped over his shoulders was his only ornamentation. His personal standard—a bull with twisted horns, rearing back, on a white background with gold trim—hung on the wall behind him. My own clothes had the bull embroidered on the collar, along with my mother’s silver scallop shell. His sword rested next to him against the desk; it was a thick thing, forged in a time when it would have seen a battlefield and bloodshed. From the stories the foot soldiers told over hot meal and a drink, my father still used it often enough.

  His dark eyes met mine as I halted before his desk, his pen paused above the inkwell. I bowed, stiff more from reluctance to humble myself than from my bruises. But my wince was real enough; he seemed satisfied with that and turned his attention to Crowndan.

  “Captain. Sir Aros said that he entrusted the geologists to you.”

  “Yes my lord.” Crowndan cleared his throat as he stepped up next to me. “There seems to have been some sort of quaking inside the mountain. The tremors were felt along part of the trade route.” Out of the corner of my eye I could see Crowndan glance my way. “The geologists have informed me that the particular rock formations in this mountain were deemed too unstable to mine and were at risk of slides and cave-ins. They did not give any reason why this information was not noted in the public records. Lady Eva could not have known—”

  My father finished what he had been writing and set the pen down. “Do not divert blame away from my daughter.”

  I shook my head. “I didn’t cause—”

  “I was not speaking to you.”

  I shut my mouth, biting the tip of my tongue for good measure against saying anything further.

  Crowndan cleared his throat. “My lord, there is no indication that Lady Eva’s actions have caused this. It was simply a matter of time before it happened.”

  “Has anything else been affected by the tremors?”

  “No, my lord.”

  “Is there anything else that needs to be brought to my attention other than my daughter’s misdeeds?”

  “The, ah, sign needs to be repainted. Again.”

  Now I had to stop myself from smiling. It was a formidable undertaking. There was a large wooden sign set at a fork in the road, welcoming newcomers to Winter’s Crown and directing them to the Fort and town, or to the various mines. The name Winter’s Crown, as far as I could tell, had been chosen by someone high up in the Empire. The men and women who worked here considered it too pretty a name for the place, and enjoyed changing it.

  I had contributed a suggestion or two in the past. And a bucket of paint as well. After all, why should they have all the fun?

  “What does it say this time?” my father asked.

  “It says ‘Welcome to White Hell’.”

  That was all? I guess we had used up all of the good names.

  “There was also a crude painting of a…well…”

  Oh. It had to be a good one, to make Crowndan blush so.

  “Fix it, Captain.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Yes, Crowndan, fix it. Sit, stay, and fetch the stick while you’re at it.

  “Any progress on catching the culprits?”

  “The miners seem to be protecting their own.”

  “You haven’t investigated the soldiers?”

  “Not our men, surely.”

  I snorted.

  My father’s eyes met mine. “Enlighten me, Eva, as you seem to know who’s been doing what behind my back.”

  “I don’t know who has painted the sign.” I paused, waited just long enough, and then added: “Sir.”

  “Not this time, is what you mean. Where are your drawings and maps of your ruins?”

  “In my room. On my desk.”
I paused, then added: “Sir.”

  “Get them, Captain.”

  “My lord,” Crowndan saluted before leaving.

  There was silence. I had nothing to say. I certainly wasn’t going to initiate any type of conversation with him. But the silence lengthened, and I grew afraid to say anything at all, uncertain of what my father’s reaction would be.

  Thankfully, he was the one to speak first. “What happened there, Eva? Am I going to get a different story from the one Aerik gave me? Or did you two have time to figure out which story is the one you want to be told?”

  No, unfortunately, there hadn’t been time for that. “There was an incident. Sir.”

  “An incident. Is that what you call it?”

  “It was caused by the men. The looters. It had little to do with me.”

  “Yes, Aerik mentioned them as well. Sir Aros has confirmed that the one called Marden is missing. We should know of the other three by nightfall. I have to contact four families and tell them that their sons are not going to be coming home.”

  “They were going to destroy protected ruins. They attempted to open an unstable door.”

  “Is that what you realized, that opening the door would destabilize the whole place? Is that why you told Aerik that you wanted to leave?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re lying, Eva.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “When Aerik clutches his turtle bones like a lifeline and tells a story about a ghost that only you knew how to avoid, yes, it does.”

  So Aerik had told him. But I couldn’t be mad at my protector.

  “Would you have told me about the man—this crowned figure who seemed to consume the looters?”

  I shrugged, but knowing that Aerik and I were no longer the only ones who knew about the apparition weighed hard in my chest. “Nobody will believe it.”

  “I do. You forget what we in the North think of spirits and respecting the dead.”

  “Following Northern traditions, the spirit should not be disturbed any further.”

  “The ruins aren’t ours. Aren’t human. Do you know what kind of spirit it is?”

  I couldn’t reply to that.

  “Eva, tell me. This isn’t about us, not now.”