by Tara West
He watched as Jon dumped the entrails into the pit, making the water bubble and boil as if it had sprung to life. Markus jerked back, almost dropping the candle, so stunned was he by the violent fervor.
“What bubbles in that pit?” he called to Jon over the loud squeals rumbling from the water.
The man turned, clutching the bucket in both hands and walked back to Markus. The faint glow of the candle flames only served to illuminate the deep lines around his drawn mouth. “The Kraehn are feeding,” Jon said.
Markus fought to quell the knot of dread rising in his throat. “What are Kraehn?” he asked, trailing Jon back to the filleting table.
“Fanged fish with razor-sharp scales,” the man answered over his shoulder. “You never want to fall into a Kraehn hole.”
A chill snaked up Markus’s spine as he tried not to think about slipping across the ice and falling into one. The little monsters made Lydra seem tame.
“How do I know which holes have Kraehn?”
“They usually lurk in dark caverns,” Jon replied, as he set his bucket down on the table and scooped some serpent meat into it. “The water around them will also be red or black.”
“Why red or black?” Markus tried his best to stifle the note of fear that slipped into his voice. He understood that the red color was probably blood from the Kraehn’s prey.
Ura appeared beside them. Gone was the hint of amusement in her somber eyes. “Red like the color of the blood from the animals that fall into Kraehn holes; black like the color of Kraehn blood when they have no other animals to eat.”
Curiosity piqued Markus’s interest that the ice dwellers lived in caverns that housed such monsters. Surely, there had to be a way to rid themselves of this plague? “These Kraehn, why don’t the ice people just kill them?”
Ura shrugged, acting as if living among violent, fanged fish wasn’t anything unusual. “They eat our waste. This is why our kingdom is clean of filth. Besides, killing a Kraehn isn’t easy.”
“And don’t be fool enough to try and catch one,” Jon warned. “Take heed from the Ice People you meet who are missing hands and digits.”
Markus had to work hard to shut his gaping jaw. The ways of these people were becoming stranger and stranger. To live inside the ice, and eat snotty dragon weed and ugly serpents was odd enough, but to coexist with man-eating fish was another. Humans were supposed to be at the top of the food chain, but he somehow feared that these fish had eaten more than just fingers and toes. Judging by the frenzied pace at which they ate, he reckoned an entire person could be devoured in the blink of an eye.
Markus shuddered and then looked up as two men cloaked in white furs approached him with resolute determination set in the hard angles of their pale faces. They had come here for him, of that he was sure.
“Land dweller,” they said in unison as they stood before Markus, looking him over with scowls.
“Aye,” he answered tersely.
“Odu wishes to speak with you,” said one of the men. “You must follow us.”
Jon laid a firm hand on Markus’s forearm. “We will accompany you,” he said. A slight smile parted his lips while he looked at Markus with luminescent eyes. “Do not fear.”
Markus swallowed, pretending not to notice the fine trembling in his arms and legs, or the gnawing pain that settled in the pit of his stomach. “I am not afraid.”
THE OLD PROPHET SAT cross-legged on a snowbear rug at the end of a luminous chamber. His white beard draped over one knee and gathered in a pile at his feet. As he gummed a bone pipe with an intricate pattern carved into the sides, a strange odor of pungent spices radiated off the prophet’s fur robes.
Markus was less stunned by the oddity of the man sitting before him than by the low humming that reverberated around the chamber. Though the hum was by no means intense, its perpetual rattle unnerved Markus, thrumming deep inside the very marrow of his bones. He glanced around for the source, but saw nothing amiss, although the fur-lined walls also seemed to shake, as if the very ice around him was alive.
In the center of the chamber was a raised pool of water, from which emerged a misty vortex that gathered in a wide funnel, rising toward the ceiling.
Markus’s gaze followed the swirling mist, and he gasped when he saw the razor-sharp iridescent ice crystals that jetted down from the ceiling, some measuring more than an arm’s length. However, neither the prophet nor the Ice People who sat on furs against the chamber walls showed any alarm that these odd, glowing daggers were hovering above them.
The Ice People’s only cause for concern seemed to be Markus, for they looked at him with narrowed eyes and mouths set in hard lines.
“Greetings, land dweller,” said the prophet, beckoning Markus inside with a wave of his hand. He patted the fur beside him. “Come sit. Pay no heed to their stares. Ice People have not seen one of your kind in this lifetime, although it was not too long ago that we were all of the same race.”
After Jon gently nudged his back, Markus took a hesitant step inside the chamber. As his weary gaze scanned the crowd of pale gawkers, he finally settled beside the prophet.
The old man flashed an almost toothless grin, and Markus was instantly reminded of Dafuar. He did not know if he should be comforted or alarmed by their similarities.
“They tell me your name is Markus,” the prophet said.
Markus nodded. “Aye.”
Then he continued to stare at the prophet. If it hadn’t been for the translucent hair and skin, he could have been Dafuar’s twin. The old man was so wrinkled that his age was beyond comprehension.
“Do not think to count the lines,” the prophet spoke with a touch of humor in his voice. “You will be here all night.”
“I’m sorry.” Markus swallowed. “You just look so familiar.”
The prophet hitched a bushy brow. “Do I?”
“Aye, you resemble another prophet I know.”
A slow smile cracked the lines of the old man’s weathered face. “How fares my brother?”
“Y-your brother?” Markus stammered.
“You speak of Dafuar, do you not?”
“Aye. He is your brother?”
The prophet shrugged a bony shoulder. “He is.”
Markus’s jaw fell open as he struggled to comprehend what the prophet had told him. “But Ura told me the Ice People have lived beneath the glacier for three hundred years.”
Odu nodded. “We have.”
Markus gasped. “But that must mean you’re...”
“...very old,” Odu interjected.
Markus gawked at the prophet for a long moment. What kind of magic had kept the two prophets alive for so long? Were they even men or were they witches? If so, how could he trust them?
“Great prophet,” Jon called from the darkened doorway, “Madhea’s dragon pursues Markus.”
Odu’s pale orbs narrowed at Markus. “Is this true?”
“Aye... I don’t know.” Markus shifted in his seat as he felt the weight of Odu’s heavy stare upon him. “Last I saw the beast, she was buried beneath an avalanche.”
“She will awaken with the thaw. It is not every day that the witch unleashes her dragon. What have you done to cause her ire?”
Heat infused Markus’s chest and inflamed his face. He hung his head and spoke in a low whisper, “I k-killed animals.”
“Killed them?” Odu asked. “You mean for food?”
“Aye.”
Markus chanced lifting his gaze. Despite the heavy lines marring the old man’s features, he could not mistake the disapproval in the prophet’s eyes.
“You do not speak the whole truth.” Odu leaned closer to Markus, speaking in a whisper that sounded more like a serpent’s hiss. “Tell me now, boy.”
Markus hung his head and spoke toward the white fur beneath his boots. “I hurt them.”
“You abused them?!” The boom of the prophet’s surprising tenor echoed throughout the frozen chamber, causing the icicles above them to hum i
n response.
The Ice People surrounding Markus gasped before an unsettling hush fell about the chamber.
Markus swallowed a lump in his throat as a cold rush of fear snaked up his spine. He had never considered killing woodland creatures to be abuse before. He’d thought of it as sport. But, as his hooded gaze briefly swept across several scowling faces, he was keenly aware of their disapproval.
What would the Ice People do to him? Would he be an outcast and branded a monster? Would they look upon him as he looked upon his father? Would Ura feel disdain toward him, too?
“I was distraught.” His voice cracked as he forced out the words. “I knew not what I was doing.”
“Very well.” Odu waved Markus away with a flick of the wrist. “You may leave me now.”
Though he was by far the largest person in the room, Markus felt much smaller than the hare he had disemboweled shortly before his mother’s death. He rose slowly to stand on shaky feet, keenly aware of disapproving glares and whispers. More than once, he heard the words “giant” and “monster” muttered amongst them, leaving no doubt in his mind he did not belong in Ice Kingdom.
Just as Markus turned to go, Jon rushed forward. “Please, great prophet,” he pleaded, “what should the boy do about the dragon?”
Odu held up his arms and two boys helped him to his feet. With stooped shoulders and legs that shook with every step, Odu walked toward the pool of swirling mists. He waved one hand through it, causing the cyclone to spin faster.
The prophet lowered his head, his gaze lost somewhere beneath the depths of the water. “He should seek out his heart.” Odu’s mumbled words lacked strength or conviction.
“His heart?” Jon shook his head before asking, “How will that stop the dragon?”
Odu lifted his head and leveled Markus with a stony expression. “Let the dragon be. Your land dweller has greater monsters to vanquish.”
“MARKUS!” URA STRUGGLED to keep pace with him as he marched briskly down the icy slope. Luckily, he had to stop a few times to keep from falling, or else she was certain she would have never caught up with his long strides.
Just as he paused to catch himself from slipping on his backside, Ura reached out and grasped his elbow. “Wait! I wish to speak with you.”
“Why?” Markus spoke in a low growl, not even turning to meet her stare. “Why, when you know now that I am a monster?”
Ura heaved a deep sigh. While he was big and clumsy, she knew he was no beast. “I do not think you a monster, Markus.”
Markus kept his back to her and jerked his arm out of her grasp. “I saw the look in everyone’s eyes - in your eyes.”
Before he could flee again, Ura stepped in front of him. Though he kept his gaze averted, she could make out a shadow that cast a heavy gloom over his already darkened eyes.
“Are you sorry?” she asked.
He shrugged. “For what?”
“For abusing them.”
Ura’s breath caught as Markus slowly lifted his gaze to meet her own, revealing the pain reflected in the depths of his brooding eyes.
“I don’t know that I can feel anything anymore.”
She swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat. “Surely you have feelings. Surely you feel for something or someone. What about your brother?”
“I love him, aye.” Markus nodded. “But not in the way he deserves. I am not a good brother. I am a monster.”
Instinctively, Ura reached up and cupped Markus’s cheek. For some inexplicable reason, she longed to feel his flesh beneath her own, but she was restricted by her heavy, eel-skin glove. “Monsters are heartless. You have a heart, Markus.” She took a chance and placed her other hand on his chest. “I can feel it beating.”
For a moment, Ura thought she saw a softness in his eyes before he screwed them shut. When he reopened them, his dark pupils seemed even more brooding than before.
“I am made of blood and bones, to be sure,” he replied, with a cutting finality to his voice, “but the blood that pumps through my heart is cold.”
Ura reached down and took his large hand in her own. He was not a monster; she refused to believe it.
He groaned as he shook off her grasp.
Ura fought to clutch at her chest and let him see what his denial had done to her. Her heart pained her, as if pierced by an arrow, and yet, despite his present treatment of her, she knew he had goodness in him. She guessed that someone had caused him to build this wall around himself.
“Who has done this to you? Who has hardened your heart?” she asked.
Markus tensed, his body looking as though it was encapsulated in ice. A look of pain crossed his features and he took a step back. “Ura, let us not speak of it.”
“Markus,” she pleaded, taking a hesitant step toward him, “please let me help you.”
“Ura! You must come!”
She spun around at the sharp voice of her father and gasped when she saw the wild excitement in his wide eyes. “What is it?”
Jon raced away from her, while calling behind him, “Ryne has returned!”
Chapter Eleven
Ura’s brother was surrounded by Ice People in the gathering hall. Though Ryne still wore his hooded parka, he was always easy to spot, being tall like their father, who had already found his way over to his son.
Ura’s heart swelled as she watched her father draw Ryne into a fierce hug. Leaving Markus to wait alone in the dark recesses of the large hall, she pushed her way through the throng to get to her brother.
“Ryne!”
Ura’s father stepped aside, and Ura threw herself into her brother’s arms while weeping tears of joy.
Ryne held her close, and for a long while all was right in Ura’s world — the ice was not melting, brooding land dwellers were not falling from the sky, and ice dragons did not exist. All that mattered was that her brother was alive.
Though Ura cried out when Ryne pulled away from their embrace, her reaction turned to an astonished gasp when she saw how much her brother’s face had changed. His skin no longer held its pale sheen and he looked as if he’d been rolling around in grime. Ura was even more astonished when she reached up and pulled down his hood. While his smooth strands of hair looked to be caked in dirt, she felt no grime when she ran her fingers through them.
“What has happened to you?”
He smiled, revealing ivory-colored teeth, the only part of his body that seemed to be immune to the change. “I’ve been touched by the sun. Do you like it?” he asked, ruffling his hair.
Ura jerked away and squinted at her brother. “Touched by the sun? How high did you climb?”
Ryne burst into a fit of laughter, and Ura didn’t know whether to be pleased to see her brother was well or annoyed that she was somehow the brunt of his joke.
A loud grunt sounded behind Ryne. Ura jumped, before peering over her brother’s shoulder to see a strange beast standing alone at the edge of the hall. The beast looked large enough to bring down a full-grown man. Ura thought its massive head must have come up to her waist. Most of its body was covered in pale, grey fur, except for the dark patches surrounding its silvery eyes. It wagged a bushy tail while dancing around on all four paws.
“Ryne,” Ura asked in astonishment, “what is that creature?”
Her brother turned and whistled. The Ice People gasped and moved aside as the beast jumped up and skidded toward them, ramming into Ryne’s legs before it came to a halt.
“Easy, boy,” he chuckled, before turning to Ura. “Do not be afraid. His name is Tar. Land dwellers call him a dog.”
Ura arched a brow. “Tar, the dog?”
Ryne nodded.
Ura warily eyed the creature named Tar. His pink tongue lolled to one side of his extended jowls while his tail was set in continuous motion. He shifted from one paw to the next, which Ura suspected was not from fear or anger, but from excitement. The most remarkable thing about the animal was the way he looked at Ryne with something akin to idolatry. Ur
a had long admired her older brother as well, and she had a feeling that she was going to like Tar very much.
“You may touch him,” Ryne said. “He likes to be scratched.”
Ura watched her brother scratch the dog behind the ears and marveled at his response. Such a simple gesture caused Tar to close his eyes and lean into her brother with a look of total contentment on his furry face.
When Ryne pulled back, Tar made a high-pitched whimper and looked at him with wide, pleading eyes. Her brother motioned for Ura to scratch the dog.
She knelt down before Tar, and tentatively reached out a hand to touch a spot behind his left ear. The animal responded by pressing his ear against her hand. Ura gasped at the feel of his warm fur.
“He’s so soft!” she cried.
As she continued to scratch Tar, he let out a low moan that sounded like a predatory growl. Ura was amazed, but not alarmed. Though most of the animals she had known in Ice Kingdom were wild and vicious, if Ryne put faith in the dog then so would she.
Jon remained by their sides, but the rest of the Ice People continued to creep away. Mothers gnawed on their lower lips while clutching babes to their chests and fathers hid their children behind them.
Ura noticed a dark figure step out of the shadows and move closer.
“Markus, come feel his fur,” she called.
Ryne’s brow furrowed as he gazed at Markus. “A land dweller? Why have you come here?”
Markus shrugged. “I just dropped in for a visit.”
To Ura’s relief, the Ice People broke into laughter.
“He fell through the ice and nearly broke his neck,” Jon answered in a somber tone.
Ryne’s eyes widened. “Are you the one who brought on the dragon’s curse?”
Markus raised his chin. “Aye.”
“They speak of you in Kicelin,” Ryne said. “They think you are dead.”
Markus nodded. “That may come to pass soon enough.”
Gasps from the crowd were followed by agitated murmurs.