by Tara West
He proceeded to limp toward the town of Kicelin, passing Zier who stood spellbound with one hand splayed across his chest.
Cursing under his breath, Markus bit back a sardonic laugh. He had thought to level his chances against the dragon by injuring its limb, but, once again, the monster was at an advantage.
“Do not tell me you go to Kicelin!” screamed Zier. “My daughters live there!” With quick movements, the trader had advanced upon Markus, grabbing hold of his elbow.
“I've no choice, trader!” Markus barked, while jerking his arm out of Zier's grasp. “I need supplies if I am to reach Madhea at the peak. I must beg for her forgiveness. It is the only way.”
Feeling the strained crack in his voice, Markus broke off and lowered his head. His mind and soul were fraught with emotion, and he didn't trust himself to say more. An overwhelming sense of despair hovered over him, threatening to swallow him whole.
Having had such a difficult time traversing the boulders at the base of the mountain, how would he cross the ice? How could he hope to conquer Ice Mountain? Visions of Alec alone in the hut, suffering starvation and sickness, filled his heart with dread as he choked back a lump of bitter bile.
He had to climb the mountain. He must not fail.
Glancing back at the dragon, he was relieved to see that the beast had stopped to nurse her injured wing. Dipping her extended jowls into the crook of it, she licked her injury like a feline cleansing her paw. The beast made an eerie sight. As she buried her face beneath the translucent flap, the crimson glow from her ominous eyes shone through the curtain of icy membranes.
“What supplies do you need?” Zier had dropped his pack and was rummaging through a layer of furs. His face draped in a heavy scowl, he was scattering pots and hunting knives with erratic movements.
Markus had not realized the trader had acquired quite so many goods. “Ice picks and spikes for my shoes,” Markus blurted, while mentally trying to recount what he and his father had used the one time they'd gone climbing. He shivered beneath his buckskin cloak as a cold wind blew from the north. “And a fur would be nice.”
“Here! Take these and go!” said Zier, shoving an armful of supplies at Markus.
At that moment the ground shook and the dragon roared. The beast had slipped again.
“Shield yourself!” Markus yelled while pulling his sack over his head.
Zier ducked behind a large metallic disk. Alec had once told Markus about a great army from below that had passed through their mountain centuries ago. On their way to battle another army, they carried large, circular shields of metal, which they used to protect themselves from arrows. Markus thought such a disk could come in handy when being pelted with falling rocks.
The gravel hit them in a rush and there came the pinging sound of rocks deflecting off Zier's shield. As soon as the rocks stopped falling, Markus began to shove the supplies into his pack. He looked over at Zier, who was hastily repacking his own goods.
“What was that disk you used to cover yourself?”
“Nothing,” Zier mumbled.
“Do not say nothing,” Markus snapped. “It resembled a shield.”
“Only a scrap of metal.” Zier shrugged, his eyes widening as he glanced past Markus.
Markus did not want to look. He knew by Zier's expression that the dragon was advancing again.
“Then let me see it.” Unable to keep the tension from his voice, Markus held out his hand.
Zier's features twisted as if his face was tying itself in a knot. “The shield is mine and not for trade.” Zier pulled the disk to his chest like a child defending a toy.
The fine details on the copper-colored plate did not escape Markus’s notice. It was etched with a strange looking, rotund fish, sprouting a stream of water. Markus knew the beautiful object was a prize to Zier, as it would be to any man, but he had greater need of it. If it could deflect rocks, mayhap it could deflect the dragon's icy breath.
Zier carefully wrapped the shield in a large pelt and draped it over his back. His lip turned down in a pout. Then he raised his chin and shot Markus a challenging glare.
Markus nodded. “Mayhap the village has a shield?”
Zier's entire face dropped. “No!” He scowled, and then swore, before slinging the disk off his back. “Here, take it!” he cried, shoving the shield toward Markus.
“Thank you, Zier.”
Taking the shield in his hands, Markus was surprised by the weight of it. He was grateful at his advantage in size, for he had to hold the object with a heavy grip. “I shall return it to you when I'm finished.”
Zier's face was ashen as he looked past Markus in the direction of the advancing dragon. “No! Stay away from Kicelin. I've heard tales of this curse. You will not bring Madhea's wrath upon our village.”
Markus shook his head. Once he'd won Madhea's forgiveness, all danger would be gone. “But I must repay you when I return.”
A deep, bitter laugh resonated from Zier's heavy chest. Casting woeful eyes upon Markus, he reached up and squeezed his shoulder with a thick, stubby hand. “You shall not return, lad.”
Dropping his hand, the trader turned without another glance, hauling his heavy-laden body across the rocks with amazingly quick movements.
Markus’s heart seemed to plummet with Zier's retreating steps. If it were not for the advance of the beast, he would have no more will to continue, but the ever-looming threat of the dragon pushed him onward and upward.
What new threats lie in wait for him once he scaled the north face of Ice Mountain?
Chapter Six
Markus stood on the precipice of fate. The mighty glacier lie before him; an endless, unforgiving barrier of ice and snow, mixed with hidden pockets of deep crevasses, which could trap and suffocate the hapless wanderer who mistook one for stable ground. Almost as foreboding as Ice Mountain itself, the glacier stretched as far as the horizon and disappeared beyond the mist. An ocean of frozen ice, it divided Ice Mountain from other smaller, lesser peaks. None in his village had ever ventured to the other mountains, for to do that would involve either travelling a great distance across the glacier or scaling and crossing Ice Mountain.
For now, Markus only needed to traverse a small section of the glacier to get back on solid ground. From there he could begin the ascent of the mountain. If he was careful, he could cross over the corner of the glacier and get back to the mountain before the sun set.
Look for animal tracks and walk in them.
That was the one sage piece of advice that Father had offered him the one time he'd taken him to this spot, but Markus could not see any animal tracks now. Perhaps they'd heard the roars of the advancing beast and gone into hiding.
Casting a glance over his shoulder, he caught the prism of blinding colors reflecting the mid-day sun off Lydra’s scales. Again, the monster was too close for his liking.
The only good to come of this was the stinging chill from the snow, which seeped through the hide of his leather boots and numbed almost all the pain of his injured ankle. He was able to walk on it again though awkwardly. But, how was he to scale the mountain with such boots? Why hadn't he thought to ask Zier for a spare pair? No use berating himself for his mistakes now. He was sure to make many more on the ascent.
With a tentative step onto the vast, frozen wasteland, Markus gingerly made his way across the ice, pick in hand in case he fell through a crevasse. Scaling ice was difficult enough without a monster in pursuit, but he felt comforted in the knowledge that the dragon would not possibly be able to sustain her weight on the ice. If the beast continued to pursue him, she would surely fall through and he would be spared her threat.
Markus smiled at the thought of Lydra plummeting into the abyss. He'd seen it happen once to a herd of elk that had chanced upon a lake during the first freeze of winter. A young hunter then, he had been stalking these animals one morn when they caught scent of him and rushed onto the frozen lake. Foolish they were to try to cross. They would have fa
red better facing down his arrow. In an instant, the elk all perished, sucked down through a break in the ice.
Walking gingerly, yet swiftly with numbing feet was proving a difficult task. Markus tried to stay on the higher ridges, avoiding the pits of sunk-in snow. Mayhap traversing the glacier with the thaw of winter was safer. After all, he could clearly see the sinking snow holes, which he knew to be crevasses. His walk became brisker, more confident. The dragon would not be able to maneuver this glacier with her large, clumsy body.
Casting another glance behind him, Markus almost stumbled over his own feet. He gazed in horror at Lydra sitting perched at the cusp of the glacier, blowing a long curtain of ice in front of her. With a deep intake of breath, the beast's chest ballooned before she blew out another stream of ice, frost dripping off her fangs with each hiss of air. She was making the path thicker and impenetrable.
She was building a bridge across the glacier! Looking up from her perch, Lydra leveled Markus with a crimson, sinister glare.
Swallowing a lump of fear, Markus struggled to breathe through his constricting lungs. This was no dumb animal. Nay, Markus was the fool. He had considered himself safe on this glacier, but he had proven himself to be no more intelligent than an elk.
Lydra did not try to traverse the ice bridge on clumsy legs—she used her belly instead. The shimmery scales that coated her distended stomach must have been smooth as well, for she slid seamlessly along the surface. When she reached the end of the bridge, she stopped herself with the tips of her long fangs and stood up before blowing yet another bridge of smooth ice across the glacier.
Turning, Markus picked up speed, knowing that with his weighted, frozen feet, he put himself at greater risk of falling through the ice. But he had no choice. The dragon would be upon him before he crossed to the mountain. With his quickened pace, he narrowly missed several crevasses. The dragon had come so close to him now that he could almost feel its frozen breath at his back.
Up ahead, Markus spotted what would either be his salvation or demise—a ditch in the ice so huge that no ice bridge blown across it could sustain Lydra's weight. Only now he wondered how he would be able to cross it himself.
Recalling the supplies in his sack, Markus thought of a plan. If he tied a rope to his pick, could he swing across? Running to a halt, he nearly fell into the wide fault in the ice. Though he'd seen the gully from a distance, he was not expecting the edge to be so sharp, so sudden.
Peering past his toes, which dangled dangerously at the precipice of the drop, Markus knew this was no gully. The glacier itself seemed to be cracked in two. Backing up, he let out a low whistle at the sight. The crevasse spanned the width of ten men, but it was its depth that made him gasp in awe. It appeared to have no bottom. A thought struck him that if Lydra were to fall into this hole, she would be trapped for a long time, mayhap forever.
Pulling the rope out of his sack, Markus secured it to his pick. Tightly gripping the other end of the rope, he tossed the pick across the crevasse, cursing when it lodged into its target, but failed to hold. A glance over his shoulder made him shudder—the dragon was closing the distance between them.
As quickly as he could, he pulled the dangling pick back up the ledge, swearing as it jammed in a pocket of ice. He jerked it through and swung again, this time aiming for a small rock protruding from the side of the wall. The rock dislodged and the pick tumbled down with it. Pulling it back yet again, Markus fought to calm his shaking limbs, but he was nearly out of time. The dragon was almost upon him—so close he could see the outline of each shimmery scale and read the malice in Lydra’s eyes.
If the pick failed to hold this time, his life would be over. But the pick was too difficult to wield. If only it were an arrow...
Great Goddess!
With only moments to act on his new idea, Markus cut the rope free of the pick, which he threw into his satchel, and pulled his bow and arrow from its quiver. Seizing the rope, he tied it to the center of his arrow, and then tied the opposite end around his waist. Markus aimed at a thick ice slab on the top of the opposite ridge before pulling back the bowstring and releasing...
Always striking true.
His arrow made solid purchase with the ice. The dragon was so close upon him now that the air around him seemed to thicken with a stagnant chill. Looking behind him, Markus realized he was only a few paces away from the tip of the dragon's ice bridge. The beast was on her belly, jowls extended.
Markus’s mouth fell agape at the awesome sight of the giant monster racing toward him. He wanted to flee, jump over the ledge and free himself from the beast's wrath, but his mind was transfixed by the demonic gleam in Lydra's blood-red eyes.
Would she eat me or freeze me?
Just as Lydra was upon him, he almost thought he heard a sinister chuckle resonate from the monster's chest. Only then did Markus find the will to jump. The dragon's icy breath whooshed swiftly behind him, and the sound of ice shards shattering in the air filled his head like sharp bursts of cold explosions.
As Markus’s body slammed into the opposing wall of ice, the mighty dragon roared and then tumbled behind him. He heard a sickening thud as Lydra hit the bottom of the crevasse. Markus’s brain rattled at the tremors caused by the heavy beast and the air around him exploded with a chill that swept through his bones. He covered his head as an onslaught of ice pellets rushed past him.
Once the ice had stopped, Markus breathed a sigh of relief as he peered down into the bottomless pit where the dragon had fallen. He could not see Lydra through the dark gloom, but he heard her cries of anguish. The monster was injured, and if she ever found her way free, she would be sure to seek revenge. Even more reason for Markus to reach the Goddess at the peak of Ice Mountain.
Grabbing hold of the rope, he planted his feet on the wall and began to haul himself out. Then came a thunderous crack! Louder and more ominous than the fury of a hundred winter storms, the sound filled his ears and reverberated through his skull.
Avalanche!
Instinctively, his eyes shot up, just in time to see the weight of nature's frozen fury crashing down upon him. He closed his eyes against the terror, while shards of ice and snow flew in his open mouth and crammed up his nose. Coughing and choking on the burning, bruising weight, Markus desperately clutched his rope, his lifeline, as he tried to press his body against the wall. It was useless.
The onslaught of snow and ice rushed over him, whipping his body against the crevasse wall. Markus felt crushed under the frigid weight; his head and neck ready to explode from the jarring pain. He was as helpless as a mouse being playfully tossed about in the clutches of a wolf.
Just as he thought his entire body would burst from the torrential torment, the rush abruptly ended. Coughing and choking on the melting ice, Markus purged a great deal out through heavy heaves of his burning lungs. Rubbing ice crystals off his stinging eyelids with the backs of his frozen fingers, he finally opened his eyes. Looking up, he was horrified to see that the ice-crusted rope holding him was frayed in several spots. At any moment the rope would snap.
Thwack!
A scream had barely escaped his lungs when he found himself landing on his own two feet. Disoriented and feeling like he weighed a thousand stones, he stumbled backward onto his buttocks.
Why did he feel so heavy? Peering over his shoulder, he recognized the problem. His shield was piled so full of snow that it lay flat, cutting against his satchel, with the frayed ropes holding it in place ready to snap in two. Shrugging off his pack and shield, Markus breathed a sigh of relief as he could move again with ease.
Perhaps his added weight had caused the rope holding him to fray. Looking up, Markus saw that the rope had ripped apart, but he'd only dropped a short distance. For a few moments he sat there, trying to adjust to the shock of what had just happened and make sense of his present situation.
Oddly, he couldn’t remember anything. His mind simply went blank. Rubbing his brow with a shaky hand, the horrifying even
ts of the day began tunneling back. The curse, his mother, the dragon!
With a sharp exhale of breath, he yelped, jumping to his feet, and immediately hissed at the pain that seared through his injured foot. The throbbing had returned. His hands, ribs and chest felt battered and bruised. While favoring his right leg, Markus turned in a full circle, scanning the horizon for the dragon.
Nothing!
The deep, dark ice crevasse and the monster were gone, buried under the weight of the avalanche. Markus exhaled a long, low cry of relief, releasing all of his pent-up fear and tension in one shaky breath. The monster was back where she belonged: imprisoned beneath the ice.
The heavy ice would not thaw until mid-spring at the earliest, leaving Markus to scale the mountain without threat from the dragon.
Hopefully.
But first, he had to find a way out of the gully. He was standing on a shallow pit, one he could easily scale if he had a proper rope. Markus wanted to scream at this new misfortune, but he feared the sound might trigger a fresh wave of brutal snow. He didn’t know if he could survive another.
The distance to the top of the gully was about ten men in length. He could probably climb such a short distance with just his ice picks. But to scale a wall of ice without rope, he'd need to plant more weight on his feet. He was prepared do it if needed, but each step upward would be sheer misery with an injured foot.
With a hand shielding his brow from the rising sun, Markus scanned the horizon. The height of the walls surrounding the gully dipped as it curved and angled down toward the bottom of the glacier where it met the base of Ice Mountain. It was like a giant frozen river; a solid, wavy slide of ice and snow that was smooth, almost like the bridges the dragon had created to glide across. If only he, too, had a slick underbelly to slide down the gully.
Eyeing the shield lying at his feet, an odd thought crossed his mind. Picking up the disk, he shook off the snow and ran his numbing fingers across the surface. It was smoother than any stone broadhead and slicker than the crude sled his father had fashioned out of pine wood. For the first time that day, Markus smiled.