Curse of the Ice Dragon

by Tara West

  “Do you know Ryne?” asked a smooth whisper.

  Markus looked up to see the girl standing there, near enough for him to breathe in her crisp scent of cool spices.

  “Leave the boy alone, Ura,” echoed a strong voice from the other end of the room. “He is barely awake.”

  Markus’s eyes widened. As the throbbing of his temple ebbed, his vision returned to normal. The girl stood close by, wringing her delicate hands as her lower lip trembled. One look into her wide, watery eyes and Markus knew she was on the verge of crying. A strange thought crossed his mind: would she cry ice, too?

  A single tear slipped down her cheek, and Markus berated himself for his indifference.

  Her voice shook as she whispered to him, “Have you seen my brother?”

  The girl’s compassion for her sibling struck a tender cord with Markus at the vague recollection of Alec’s soft smile. It was odd how long ago it seemed since he had last held him.

  A large man in a hooded cloak appeared and shooed Ura away. “Go now, girl. Let the boy rest.”

  As she rushed out of the room through a skin draped over the doorway, Markus noticed the strange texture of the walls – they looked like ice. By the Goddess, he had to be dead! Then Markus had the vague recollection of falling from a frozen ledge, but what had he been doing scaling a mountain?

  Madhea’s Curse of the Ice Dragon!

  After bringing on the bloody curse, he had killed his mother and been forced from his beloved brother.

  “Alec!” Markus cried.

  “There is no Alec here, land dweller.”

  Land dweller? Markus looked into the man’s hooded eyes, unable to read any expression beneath the shadow of his pale, fur cloak. Struggling again to sit, Markus managed by placing all of his weight onto his good arm. “Where am I?” he asked.

  “You are safe,” replied the man, gently patting his good arm. “I am Jon. My daughter and I will care for you.”

  Through the dim shadow shading the man’s lips, Markus could make out a smile. Jon was unusually tall, towering over him like a pine, but Markus knew this man was kind. Odd how he could sense it, but he just knew. Just like the girl, Ura, Markus had no reason to fear Jon.

  But why did he feel so safe, so strange? Surely, he had to have passed over to the afterworld? “I am not dead?” he blurted out while struggling to comprehend his surroundings.

  “No, you’re not.” Jon’s laughter was rich and deep, but not overpowering like the bark of his father. “You fell, but the break in your arm will mend. Don’t you remember?”

  Markus shook his head, murmuring “No,” and instantly regretted the movement as a wave of dizziness overcame him. Moaning, he laid his head back against soft padding.

  “Oh, yes,” Jon chuckled, “you bumped your head, too. Don’t worry, your memories will come back to you eventually. You will have ample time to think while your arm mends.” Then his tone turned more somber. “I only hope that this Alec isn’t out there looking for you.”

  “He couldn’t be looking for me,” Markus muttered.

  Closing his eyes, he called to mind the image of his brother before their departure, remembering Alec’s bruised face and frail body. His brother would not have the physical strength to come looking for him.

  It was all for the best. Markus would not want Alec to risk his life on the mountain. He tried to block out the mental picture of Alec sitting alone in their hut, grieving for their dead mother with no one to console him. Markus’s heart was weighted by a thousand stones; his carelessness had brought so much suffering upon his family.

  When he reopened his eyes, Jon was still looming above him. The lines of his mouth turned down as he spoke. “Do not let your thoughts trouble you. You must rest now if you are to recover.”

  Thinking how nice it would be to rest his bruised bones in this soft bed, Markus almost accepted Jon’s offer, but Lydra was still out there, somewhere. As soon as the beast freed herself from the ice, she would hunt for him again. By staying in this place, Markus would endanger not only himself, but Jon and his daughter as well.

  “I cannot stay,” he replied.

  “I’m afraid you have no choice.” Jon nodded toward the arm that Markus cradled against his chest. “Your arm is broken. You cannot climb.”

  “But, I bring grave danger to you and your daughter.” Markus regretted the words even as he spoke them. He did not want to lose his shelter, but his foolishness had already cost him his mother’s life. He would not be responsible for any more deaths, save his own.

  Jon sat down in a chair beside Markus and rested a strong hand on his shoulder. “What danger do you speak of, land dweller?”

  Markus’s gaze shifted to the weight of the stranger’s hand. It was such a simple gesture, so why did the man’s touch feel so foreign to him?

  Markus turned his head away, unable to make eye contact with the man who was touching him so closely. He knew the gentle pressure of Jon’s hand was nothing to be ashamed of, but he couldn’t escape the feeling that it wasn’t manly to accept his affection. Markus had only shared this kind of closeness with Alec, and only when Father was not looking.

  Clearing his throat, Markus kept his stare transfixed on the shimmery wall beside his bed. “Madhea’s ice dragon,” he replied. “When she frees herself from the avalanche, she will come for me. I must reach Madhea before the dragon awakens.”

  Jon laughed through a groan. “You seek the Ice Witch?”

  Turning abruptly, Markus looked at the man’s hooded form. Through the shift in the shadows shrouding Jon’s face, he could make out the glimmer of pale eyes beneath the cloak. Who was this man and why had he called Madhea a witch?

  “Ice Witch?” Markus vehemently shook his head. “No, I seek the Goddess.”

  “Then the witch has you fooled. Madhea is no goddess.”

  Markus’s veins ran cold, for he knew Madhea was to be respected and feared. Jon risked danger by blaspheming her. “Do not speak so. Do you wish her to bring a curse upon your head?”

  Laughing heartily, Jon pulled down the hood of his cloak, revealing the same pale blue skin and transparent hair as Ura. Even more startling were his eyes, which were of the brightest azure, shining like iridescent ice crystals and illuminating the deep lines around his eye sockets.

  “I am an ice dweller,” he spoke through a smile. “Her magic cannot harm me.”

  Unable to contain his amazement, Markus’s jaw slackened as his mind struggled to make sense of the sight before him. As a child, Alec had amused him with stories of the Ice People, but he thought them only fables.

  “Her magic cannot harm you?” Markus barely breathed the words.

  “No, boy,” Jon shrugged, “as long as I dwell within the ice, she cannot turn my home against me.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The witch uses the energy from the ice to draw forth her magical strength. Just as the ice can harvest magic, it can also repel it.”

  Holding open his arms, Jon pointed all around them. “As long as we live within the fortitude of these walls, she cannot harm us.”

  “Ice walls?” Shaking his head, Markus focused more clearly on his surroundings. The walls did look solid and had a most unusual glow. Indeed, they were made of ice! “I must have bumped my head hard on that fall,” he mumbled to himself.

  Jon’s pale brows rose. “Have you never heard of the Ice People?”

  “Aye.” Markus shrugged. “But those stories were only fables.”

  “No, my boy,” said Jon, looking at Markus with a glow in his eyes and mirth in his smile, “you have fallen into Ice Kingdom.”

  THE GIRL WORKED QUIETLY around him, mayhap thinking he had gone back to sleep. But how could he? It was impossible to sleep when he had so many unanswered questions.

  Ice People? He had thought them only a fantasy, but now he found himself dwelling in a kingdom made of ice. Markus had so many questions to ask Jon, but the kind stranger had left, insisting he rest.


  Watching the girl through cracked eyelids, he considered these people who dwelled beneath the ice. So far, they were kind and Ura was exceptionally pretty, even more so than Dianna. Ura wore a belted tunic and breeches made of ivory fur, so she looked as if she was draped in the pure crystals of winter’s first snow. Unlike Dianna, she had an air of femininity in her walk and manners. Odd how he had difficulty recalling the memory of Dianna’s fair face now.

  But there was one image he would never forget, no matter how hard he tried to purge it from his mind; that of his father’s twisted features the moment when Alec’s blade pierced his back.

  How long it would take his arm to mend, Markus knew not, but he would surely go insane if he was left with naught to do but dwell on his father. That man had been a curse. For as long as he could remember, Markus had wished his father dead. Now he felt no remorse for his passing, only hatred.

  Hatred toward his father for the life of abuse he inflicted on Alec and hatred toward himself for waiting almost sixteen years to stand up to the monster. What good had it done him in the end? It was Alec who’d saved both of their lives. His feeble brother had always bested him in intelligence and now he was stronger, too. What use was he to his brother now? It had taken less than a day for the mountain to defeat Markus. How could he reach the Goddess with a broken arm? Who would hunt for Alec while he was away?

  “Your thoughts trouble you.”

  Ura’s soft whisper pulled Markus from his dark reverie. In the next moment, he opened his eyes, only to be lost in her silvery gaze and pale skin. She resembled a beautiful flower in full bloom, preserved beneath a sheen of ice.

  Markus could not help but smile. “How did you know I was awake?”

  Seating herself in the seat beside Markus’s bed, she flashed a sideways grin. “I could see movement beneath your eyelids.”

  He pulled himself up until his back was resting against the soft furs padding the frame of his bed. “Sleep eludes me when I have so many unanswered questions.”

  Toying with her fingers, Ura batted pale lashes. “Yes, and I have one for you.”

  “Ask me anything,” he breathed, but Markus was only vaguely aware of what he said, so spellbound was he by her graceful movements. Never before had he met a girl like Ura.

  “Have you seen Ryne?” Her question ended on a sob. The girl turned her gaze down while fisting her hands in her lap.

  Markus’s chest tightened, feeling Ura’s loss as deeply as his own. He remembered that Ryne was her brother. “I do not know. What does he look like?”

  “He looks like me, only he is a boy.” She paused, rolling her eyes while gnawing on her lower lip. “I mean a man, a young man.”

  Markus wondered why Ryne would venture above the ice if Jon had said they were only safe from Madhea’s wrath within these frozen walls.

  “Where did he go?” he asked.

  Ura’s gaze shot upward. “Above the surface, mayhap to your village,” she replied, the sadness in her eyes casting a shadow over her soft smile.

  “I’m sorry, Ura. I have not seen him.”

  Although his fingers were still sore, laced as they were with cuts and bruises from the climb, Markus reached out and gently squeezed the girl’s hand.

  Ura made no effort to pull away, but rather turned her palm upward and clasped her slender fingers in his. “Are you sure?” she asked, blinking back glossy tears.

  Markus was lost in a vortex of emotions. The haunting sorrow reflected in the pools of her eyes was proof that Ura longed for her brother. Markus understood her pain and knew her love for Ryne was strong. He wished he could climb from his bed and hold Ura to soothe her anguish; not only out of empathy for her sorrow, but because thoughts of holding her close made Markus’s heart pound in erratic need.

  Choking back the surge of emotion that welled inside his chest, Markus tightened his grip on her small hand. “Surely I would remember him if I had.”

  “Yes.” She nodded, before pulling away. Abruptly rising, she turned her back to him.

  After they’d broken contact, Markus’s chest felt suddenly hollow and devoid of love. What influence did Ura have over him that her touch would cause him to go mad with emotion in an instant?

  His gaze traced the lines of his empty palm and he curled his tattered fingers inward until his hand made a fist. He tried to recapture the warmth he’d felt from her touch, but he didn’t feel anything. Had she used some kind of magic?

  Mayhap he’d just bumped his head too hard on that fall and this was all just in his imagination.

  Sitting back down, Ura wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. “Now it is your turn to ask me questions.”

  Shifting in his bed, Markus struggled with what to ask her first. He decided the best route was to start at the beginning.

  “How did I get here? I mean, when I fell, what happened?”

  Blinking once, she tilted her head. “Do you not remember?”

  “I only recall falling and hitting something hard.” The dull throb in his skull was a constant reminder of that.

  Exhaling, she brushed slender fingers across her pale brow. “You fell through a thinning ice shield and landed on a dragon’s tooth.”

  Markus wondered at these strange words. His father had not mentioned them on their climb. “Ice shield, dragon’s tooth? I don’t like the sound of that.”

  Covering her mouth, Ura muffled a short burst of laughter. “I will explain about dragon teeth first. Rising from the floors of our kingdom are giant, jagged columns of ice, or dragon teeth. Those are what we scale to reach the ice ceilings.”

  Her voice turned more somber. “You were fortunate in landing on the tallest tooth in Ice Kingdom—and the widest. It was why you were not impaled on that tip, which is nearly two men in width.”

  “Aye,” Markus nodded, feeling a sickening sensation in his gut at the thought of his lifeless body falling on top of a giant, spiky tooth.

  Her gaze turned heavenward. “The ice shields protect our kingdom from the heat of the sun and the magic of the Ice Witch.” Glancing suddenly downward, Ura’s jaw tensed and she began to twist the hem of her pale gown with her fingers.

  Markus read fear in her movements. “If the shields are thinning, how are you protected from Madhea?” he asked.

  Her head jerked and something akin to fire shone in her pale eyes. “We have climbers assigned to repair the ice.”

  Sensing that Ura was sensitive to any criticism of her home, Markus thought it best to cease his questioning, but if they were not safe from Madhea, he had to know. “So, this ice through which I fell had not been repaired?”

  “Not yet,” she spoke through a thinning smile.

  Clearing his throat, Markus prepared his next question. He would not be daunted; he had to know. “What if the ice is not repaired in time? Can Madhea harm us with her magic?”

  Ura threw up her hands. “Why do you ask so many questions about our ice?” She leveled him with a heated gaze that would melt the thickest glacier.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Markus had pushed Ura too far. He had not meant to upset her, but he did not wish to live in denial. If the ice was not impenetrable, he would be putting all their lives in danger by staying.

  Standing, Ura turned from him, her back rigid and fists clenched. “Some say it is growing unstable,” she said toward the wall in a strong whisper. “That is why Ryne left. The debates have caused much dissension in our kingdom.”

  Markus swallowed. What if Ice Kingdom was not the strong fortress that Jon described? “And, what of your thoughts, Ura?”

  Spinning on her heel, she strode back to his bed, flashing him a warning glare. Gone was sweet Ura. Harsh lines had replaced soft features. She was no longer a girl, but a woman torn.

  “My thoughts are that you must not speak of it again,” she spat. “The hour is late. I must finish Father’s supper, land dweller.”

  Turning away, she marched across the room with rigid steps and lifted the f
lap to leave.

  “My name is Markus, Ura,” he called, refusing to let their talk end with enmity between them. He knew not how it had happened so quickly, but he needed this girl’s friendship. He did not wish to lose it.

  Exhaling a deep groan, Ura turned, brushing a palm across her forehead. “You must get some rest, Markus.” A slight smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “I will bring your broth soon.”

  “WAKE UP, MARKUS.”

  Her breath was a brisk rush of air on his cheek. Markus wanted to stay tucked beneath the warm furs, breathing in the spicy scent of her; feeling the cool aura of her lithe form beside his bed. He knew he could not pretend to be asleep for long, tempting as it was to fake slumber while the icy-haired beauty kept vigil by his side.

  Reluctantly, Markus opened his eyes, blinking slowly as his vision adjusted to the pale light. “I am awake.”

  “I know,” said Ura, flashing a sideways grin. “It is time you ate.”

  She sat down on a narrow chair beside him. Her long, sheer tendrils were pulled back in a knot at the nape of her neck. Markus wished she would let her hair down, so he could better view the pale sheen of her locks.

  Ura held an ivory colored slab on her lap. It was the same size as the wooden tray his mother had used when she needed to carry Alec’s medicines and broth to his bed. Ura picked up a pale-colored bowl off the slab and blew on its rising vapors.

  Markus’s senses were accosted by a strange odor that was pungent, yet sweet, and his gut reacted swiftly; rumbling and pounding against a hollow drum. Despite the odd smell of the broth, Markus knew he must eat. Licking his lips, he pulled himself into a sitting position.

  Wincing at the dull pain that settled in the back of his skull, Markus slowly lifted his good hand to feel the tender spot and was struck by a wave of dizziness. A hard knot, about the size of a robin’s egg, was the source of his misery. Grimacing, he pulled his hand away, realizing he would not be able to rise from his bed with such an injury.