by Tara West
But he did not want Alec to suffer his fate.
Looking into his brother's pain-stricken eyes, he swallowed down the lump in his throat. “There is another part to this curse, Alec. A beast will follow—Madhea's ice dragon, Lydra. She will hunt me, and if I kill her you will die next.”
His brother held his feeble frame erect, clenching his fists by his sides. For a moment, he almost looked like a man; a strong man who could defend his brother. “Then I will kill Lydra for you.”
A wave of fresh tears threatened the backs of Markus’s eyes. He knew his brother would not survive a confrontation with a dragon. “You cannot draw back a bow, Alec.”
Exhaling a groan, Alec cursed before coughing uncontrollably into his hand. Markus wanted to go after Alec and carry him to his bed while Mother prepared a potion. But she was gone now and each moment he wasted here brought the threat closer to his brother. It took all of his willpower to turn on his heel and continue back into the forest.
“Wait!” Alec called out between coughs. “Where will you go?”
Markus turned back to see Alec closing the distance between them. Alec’s body trembled and swayed as he tried to hurry, making him look like a willow being whipped about in the breeze.
“I don't know,” Markus sighed, knowing he needed to get away from his brother while wishing he could remain by his side. “Somewhere far, where the dragon cannot hurt you or the villagers.”
Alec threw up his hands. “We must go to the old prophet and see if there's a way we can break the curse.”
Shaking his head, Markus struggled to stay strong when all he wanted to do was fall into his brother's arms. “I am wasting time even as we speak. The monster will be upon us.”
“Markus, look out!” Alec screamed, his eyes wide.
Ducking for cover, Markus instinctively rolled as he felt a heavy weight soar over him. Markus had thought it was the dragon, but his jaw dropped at the sight of his father sprawled out in the dirt. With amazing speed for a huge, drunk monster, Father regained his footing and came after Markus, a glint of metal flashing in his right hand.
Father was going to kill him. By the Goddess, he'd truly gone mad.
Backing up several paces, Markus reached for his blade, never removing his gaze from his father's crazed eyes.
“You ungrateful sack of cow dung!” his father roared. “I will kill you and your weakling brother for bringing shame upon the family!”
Feeling the weight of a wide pine behind his back, Markus knew he had no option but to defend himself. He gripped his blade firmly, readying himself for the attack. “Not if I kill you first!”
“Do you think to stop me?” Rowlen growled through a menacing chuckle. “I have heard the tale of this hunter's curse. If you kill me, your brother will die! The beast will not return to her tomb until you are dead. I must kill you, Markus, or we'll all be slaughtered!”
A war-like cry tore from Father's throat as he lunged, the blade in his hand poised and ready to strike Markus’s heart.
Markus knew he ought to defend himself, shield himself from his father's attack, but his brain and limbs went numb, and he felt as helpless as a lamb before the slaughter. Then an odd thought struck him and he understood why all of those stupid animals stared at him with blank expressions just before he released his arrow.
Marveling at this thought, Markus was barely aware when his father sank face down into the dirt at his feet. Grunting once, Rowlen’s body went limp. The long silver blade of Alec's boning knife protruded from his back.
“Markus? Are you alright?”
Coming to his senses, Markus saw Alec standing in front of him, clutching him by the shoulders. Had the weak, sickly Alec done this to their father?
“H-how did you...?” Markus stuttered.
“It was the only way.” Tears pooled down Alec’s bruised face, but he spoke with little emotion. “You cannot kill, brother.”
Markus simply stared at Alec, in awe of the man he'd become. Markus, The Mighty Hunter, couldn't even defend himself, but his brother had saved him.
Without speaking, Markus embraced Alec. Silently he wept, and though he could’ve easily crushed his brother's bony frame, he felt Alec's strength surge through him. He marveled at the warmth filling his heart as Alec clutched his back tightly. He wondered if he'd ever have a chance to hold his brother again.
A deafening roar from overhead broke the moment.
Lydra!
Markus’s stomach roiled as his legs nearly buckled beneath him.
Alec's battered features sprung to life. “Run, brother,” he commanded, pushing Markus away from him. “I will summon the village hunters. We will find a way to stop this beast.”
“And if you cannot?” Markus wiped the tears from his face with the back of his hand, knowing he probably wouldn't survive to see sunset.
“I never gave up hope on you. I ask that you do the same.” Alec’s jaw hardened, grim determination set in his pale eyes. “I will find a way.”
In that moment, Markus knew Alec would do everything in his power to save him. Alec would be strong for him and he, too, must be strong in return.
Focusing on Alec's pale features, Markus called to memory a vision of his brother’s smiling face before the bruises and cuts. He wanted to hold that picture dear in his heart, the final memory of the one he loved most.
“I love you, Alec,” Markus spoke through a tightened chest.
Suddenly the forest stilled and a shadow swept above them. The temperature rapidly dropped, as if all of the warm air was being sucked into a giant abyss.
Alec gasped, looking upon Markus with a renewed urgency. “And I have always loved you. Be strong, brother, and please do not die! I could not take another breath knowing you were gone from this world. Go, now!”
Turning, Markus propelled his feet forward, running faster than he'd ever run before. Calling to memory all of the mistakes his prey had made when he bore down upon them, he would carry with him those lessons. The Mighty Hunter had now become the hunted, but he wouldn't give up without a fight. He would use every resource of his hunter's intuition to preserve himself without felling the beast. He had to find a way to survive, not for his own sake, but for the sake of his brother.
Chapter Five
Markus ran for his life, dodging the pine needles that rained down while deafened by the thunderous flapping of the beast's giant wings overhead. The roar of the beast as her underbelly scraped the tops of the pine trees rattled Markus’s insides and filled his chest with a dread that shook him to the core.
And the icy chill that followed the beast!
Had he not been running, had his heart not been racing, Markus would have surely frozen to death. His teeth and extremities were already sore from the stiff cold permeating the air.
Still, Markus counted his good fortune—the forest was too dense for the monster to land.
Through the dim shards of light, Markus could make out a clearing up ahead. How long had he been running? He had no idea, but he could tell by the heaviness in his stride and the hollow growl in his stomach, that he was in need of nourishment and rest. Neither of which he would get for a long time. While running for his life, Markus had come to a realization. He now knew the only way to break the curse was to appeal to the Goddess herself and beg her forgiveness. But to reach her, he'd have to scale Ice Mountain.
Traversing a monolith of ice would be difficult enough, but impossible with a dragon in pursuit. He had to shoot Lydra. Markus would not survive the climb to the snow-capped peak if the beast could scoop him up like a hawk picking off a mouse.
The only way to survive would be to bring the monster to his level — fell the beast with a shot to the wing. He had already reasoned that injuring an animal would not bring on the curse, but if it did then perhaps Alec would only suffer a broken arm. Markus shuddered at the thought of hurting his brother, but he was left with no choice. He knew that if he was killed by the dragon, Alec would not survive the next w
inter alone.
Markus could now see the clearing. Pulling his bow and arrow free, he armed himself as he ran. Once the tree line broke, Lydra would be in plain view. Markus knew the beast flew swiftly. Many times during their long chase, he had almost been beaten to the ground by the rushing current from the dragon’s flapping wings. He knew he would only have one shot at such a powerful monster. If he missed, his life would be over.
His heart beating wildly in time with each step, Markus’s vision tunneled and he felt as if he were racing through a nightmare. Rushing out into the clearing, he stumbled and was almost knocked to the ground by the powerful beating of the beast's wings overhead. Turning swiftly, he fell backward on the ground at the sight - his first true glimpse of Lydra.
Great Goddess!
Her body was twice the size of a snow bear, with the wingspan of at least ten men. Icicles hung off her extended jowls and razor-sharp teeth. With a hide the hue of ice, the glinting sunlight reflected off her shimmery scales, creating blinding prisms of color. But it was the beast's eyes that horrified him the most—blood red and glowing, as if the fiery pits of hell burned in their depths.
Fighting back the urge to shield his eyes, Markus drew his bow. Just as Lydra reared back her head and a cloud of icy air rushed from her lungs, Markus released his arrow.
Always striking true.
Lydra howled with a blood-curling intensity that shook the ground. The monster's body dipped, and she struggled to remain airborne with her tattered wing. Watching in awe, Markus scurried back several paces, his mind numb from terror. He knew he should run, but fear and morbid curiosity rooted his body to the ground.
Run you fool! What if she should fall on you!
Markus cursed himself for his slow reaction, for acting the part of the witless animal, watching and waiting for the brutal hunter’s strike. Only this was no ordinary hunter, but a dragon that could devour him in one gulp.
Jumping to his feet, Markus bolted, just as the beast fell to the ground with a thunderous clap. Almost losing his footing from the tremor, Markus turned his head to see the dragon rolling to one side, cradling her injured wing. He knew not where he gathered his courage or strength, but, turning his back on the beast, he ran toward the treacherous base of Ice Mountain where even more danger awaited.
But one question loomed above him, taunting him and frightening him, just like the powerful, frigid threat of the ice dragon — how would he earn Madhea's forgiveness?
MARKUS WAS SEVERAL hundred paces ahead of the dragon now. Just as he had hoped, Lydra had delayed her pursuit to nurse her injured right wing. At this point, Markus had reached the rocky base of Ice Mountain. Looking up at the towering precipice above him, he swore to himself when he realized he'd forgotten to bring his climbing boots and pick.
Not that they would have done much good. His father had rarely been sober enough to teach him how to climb, and his one attempt had ended in failure. But, how could he climb without the proper gear? Looking through his sack, the only useful item he could find was some rope. Straining his neck, Markus tried to see to the top of the mountain, but it was shrouded in cloud. How long would it take him to scale it?
Then a thought struck him. The town of Kicelin was half a day's hike along the base of the mountain. He could get supplies there and continue his journey. But, doing that would lead the dragon directly to the village. Weighing his options, Markus knew he had no choice. If he picked up his pace, he could place sufficient distance between himself and the dragon to be able to leave the village quickly, enough to divert the beast. It was the only way.
KICELIN LAY BELOW THE north face of Ice Mountain. An almost permanent gloom seemed to hover over the village, isolated as it was from the warmth of the sun by the long shadow cast by the great peak. Although the small hamlet was in sight, he knew it would take almost an hour to reach it. Traversing across boulders was tedious business—and treacherous.
The rocks were increasing in size, some the width of a full-grown boar. To make matters worse, many were slick with black ice, which had yet to thaw with the onset of spring. The ice blended so perfectly with the large blocks of granite that Markus had no idea which stone was friend or foe, so he had to tread on all of them with care. Not an easy task with a dragon in pursuit.
Markus had put nearly a thousand paces between himself and Lydra. Casting a furtive glance behind him, he spotted the monster in the distance, her glistening scales a sharp contrast to the rocky boulders at the base of the mountain. The dragon was obviously dependent on her wings for balance and was having a difficult time crossing the terrain.
Crouching forward, Lydra dragged her injured wing, stumbling over it as she walked. She kept her good wing tucked into her body. Every so often she'd stumble, crying out whenever she was forced to use both wings to steady herself.
Each time the dragon roared in pain, she shook the ground beneath Markus, forcing him to dodge avalanches of loose pebbles from above. His satchel had worked quite well as a shield until one errant pebble nicked him on the ear. The force of it nearly knocked him flat on his face, and he had to pause until the dizziness subsided. He marveled at the sharp and severe pain that could be caused by one tiny stone.
Markus wondered at the sagacity of his plan to climb Ice Mountain with the ever-looming threat of an avalanche. If one small piece of granite could cause so much harm, what would he do if he were caught under a powerful rush of ice and snow? But it was too late to back out of his plan now. At least until he thought of another.
The dragon's last stumble, coupled with Markus’s steady headway, had lengthened the distance between them. Amazed at his speed, Markus would have grinned from ear to ear at this accomplishment in the past, but a dark depression had been settling in his heart the farther he traveled from home, and from Alec. He did his best to push away dispiriting thoughts, but his mind constantly wandered to that fateful shot into the rabbit's belly. If he hadn't been so foolish, if he had listened to the old prophet, his mother would be alive and the dragon would not be pursuing him.
Consumed with self-pity, Markus did not notice the large gap between two boulders until it swallowed his foot, and he came down heavily on his leg at the sudden shift. Wincing at the pain that coursed through his ankle, he was grimly reminded to heed the task at hand. Traversing these massive rocks was not easy, especially when he wasn't focusing on his surroundings.
Sitting on the edge of a boulder, Markus wrenched his foot out of the stone's grasp. Another spasm of pain shot through his foot and speared his calf.
Boar's Blood!
He could not afford an injury. Twisting his foot from side to side, he noted how the pain intensified when he bent it to the left. He would simply have to favor the right side and scale rocks with a bent foot. Biting his lower lip, he tried his best to block out the throbbing pain. It would do him no good to wallow in misery now. He was already miserable enough.
“Hey, ho!”
The voice startled him. Instinctively, he looked up while reaching for his boning knife. He swore under his breath. What good would a knife do him now he was cursed?
He breathed a sigh of relief as Zier, the dwarf trader, approached. A mountain of animal skins and other various goods dangled from a large pack atop his broad back. The stocky, red-bearded trader visited Markus’s village frequently during the warmer season, trading pelts and just about anything else for fruits and grains.
Markus wondered how he had failed to notice Zier’s approach earlier, and derided himself for losing focus once again.
“Put away your knife, boy hunter,” the man chuckled. He thumped his chest. “It is only Zier!”
Markus could not help but feel annoyance at Zier’s jubilant expression when his foot throbbed, and he was fatigued and famished. But the trader seemed oblivious to his suffering.
Reminding himself to reign in his temper, Markus fixed his gaze on Zier. “A hand up, please.”
Holding out his hand, Zier's smile lit with amusement.
“Twist your foot, son?”
“Aye,” Markus grumbled, pulling himself up.
Zier did not pull, yet Markus knew his movements were restricted by being laden with so many goods. Zier's body always moved stiffly under so much weight, making him resemble an extension of his furs.
“These rocks can be tricky.” Zier nodded at the dark crack from which Markus had dislodged his foot. “Many do not see the ice until they are flat on their backsides or worse.”
“Aye,” Markus muttered again as he scowled down at the dwarf, afraid to say more lest he berate the trader for his indifference.
Zier fixed him with a quizzical stare. “Why so few words?”
Exhaling, Markus rubbed a shaky hand across his sweat-drenched brow. Until this moment, he had not realized how much his limbs shook, but he felt the tremors in the marrow of his bones. Throwing a glance behind him, he swore, seeing how quickly Lydra was bridging the gap between them. “I must make haste.”
“Why? What brings you so far this side of the mountain, boy?” As Zier spoke, his voice faltered as his gaze trailed to the spot where Markus had been staring. “Great Goddess!” he exclaimed. “What is that creature I see in the distance?”
“A dragon.” Markus sighed.
Zier's eyes widened as he backed up with jerky movements, nearly stumbling on a rock behind him. “Let us move, boy. Methinks it pursues us.”
“Nay, trader, she pursues me.” Markus shook his head, still hardly believing his present fate. “I must be off.”
“What has happened?” Zier’s words rushed forth as if they were carried off by a great current of air. “Why does she pursue you?”
“Madhea's curse of the ice dragon,” Markus groaned, feeling his insides churn as the truth of his plight settled in the pit of his stomach. “I've no time for more words.”