by Tara West
“Yes, and some say she is even more vengeful than Madhea.” Ryne remembered the spirit of the beautiful young woman he had seen from a distance. She had been cursed by Eris for her father’s sins. Though she walked and talked and, by all appearances breathed as a mortal, she was nothing but wisps of air. Eris had stolen the girl’s flesh and bones when she was only a babe.
Though Ryne did not know what sort of dark magic could rob a person of her body, yet allow her spirit to wander the land, he guessed that Eris’s magic must be powerful. She was one witch that he had no desire to cross. When it came to Madhea, on the other hand, he’d gladly sacrifice his flesh and bones just to bring about her demise.
“We are here,” Jon announced, which gave Ryne a reprieve from his dark thoughts, as the boat reached the dock.
Father and son helped Markus to his feet, and they all disembarked, followed by Tar.
Jon turned to Ryne. “After our meeting, we will retire to our dwelling. I wish to know all about your travels. In the meantime, please try to keep your composure with the Council.”
Ryne felt a prick of annoyance at his father’s warning. How could he be expected to keep his composure? Somehow, he suspected that the Council would deny his claims even if the ice beneath their soles turned to water.
When Jon placed a steady hand on Ryne’s shoulder and leveled him with an expectant gaze, Ryne grunted his understanding. Yes, he would try, but he would make no promises when dealing with fools.
ENTERING THE BRIGHT, icy chamber, Ryne saw three men and two women, each stoic and silent, seated in a semi-circle of elevated, fur-lined thrones. They were flanked on either side by four beefy Guardians, peacekeepers of the kingdom, but more importantly, enforcers of the Council’s edicts. Each Guardian wore thick pale tunics and wooly leggings. Strapped to their rust-colored belts were the largest knives Ryne had ever seen.
Elof Eryll, the Council Chieftain, sat in the center on the widest chair which was padded with the most furs to cushion his heavy weight.
Jon, Tar and Markus lingered in the shadows near the entrance. Ryne stood before the Council, although he was blocked by a glowing pit that held a bright warming stone and a table laden with many kinds of spiced foods. Ryne knew that running the kingdom was no easy task, but the Council did not suffer from lack of nourishment and comfort.
From the annoyed look in Chieftain Eryll’s squinty eyes, he had been waiting none too patiently. Most likely, he was eager to stuff his bloated face with food, thought Ryne.
“And so he has returned.” The Chieftain splayed his arms wide; a look of mock enthusiasm in his features. “Welcome home, son of the house of Nordlund.”
“Thank you.” Ryne made a slight bow though it pained his pride to do so. These fools deserved no respect from him.
The Chieftain waved his hand. “Jon, bring your land dweller forward. I’d like a look at him.”
His jaw fell open as Markus stepped forth. “My son did not lie. You are as big as a gnull!”
The land dweller’s face flushed as he dropped his gaze to the floor. The Council members broke into laughter. The Chieftain’s cousin, Ingred Johan, who had an angular face and a sharp nose resembling a bird’s beak, squealed so shrilly that Ryne fought to shield his ears from the grating noise. Hearing Tar whimper behind him, he felt sorry for his dog, whose keen sense of hearing was so much better than his own.
The Chieftain jumped in his seat as his gaze narrowed on Tar. “Holy Elements! What is that beast?”
The other members gasped and Ingred shrieked again.
“His name is Tar,” Ryne replied through clenched teeth. “He is no beast. He is my friend.”
The Chieftain sat back against his throne, his hands visibly shaking at his sides. “He looks like some kind of vicious slog.”
Ryne heaved a sigh. “I assure you, he is not vicious. Many land dwellers keep these animals as companions. They serve and protect their families.”
“Is that so?” The Chieftain asked, scowling at Tar. “How do I know he means no harm to our people?”
Ryne dropped his gaze to his dog, who was too busy licking the fur around his anus to pay anyone much notice. He turned back to Chieftain Eryll, who had been watching the dog with a look akin to horror.
How was he ever going to convince these idiots that their foundations were melting? How would he impress upon them the gravity of their situation when the Chieftain was so easily distracted by a butt-licking dog?
Ryne’s shoulders fell as he rubbed his fingers across his temple. His head throbbed and he knew it was not from the glacier kingdom’s frigid air. It was the kind of headache that was brought on by stress. He bore too much responsibility at only two and twenty.
When would these old fools listen?
“Tar saved my life. He would never harm our people. You have my word.”
The Chieftain’s eyebrows dipped beneath his silver hairline as he harrumphed.
Ryne realized he would need to be extra careful and not give the Council any reason to kill his companion. He would not put it past the Chieftain and his vicious nature to want to cause his family pain.
“Jon!” The Chieftain’s face contorted into one massive frown as he wagged a finger. “We heard you’ve already brought this land dweller to the prophet before introducing him to us.”
“Odu summoned us,” Jon explained.
“A summons you didn’t have to answer,” Chieftain Eryll replied with an air of indignity, “for only the Council has the power to issue one.”
“I am aware of the Council Code, Elof.”
Ryne did not miss his father’s defiance in calling the Chieftain by his given name, even though his face and tone remained impassive. It bothered Ryne that his father appeared so calm at a time like this.
The Chieftain turned away from Jon’s steady gaze, his face flushing, and placed his malevolent glare upon the land dweller. “What is your purpose here, boy?”
Markus’s clenched fists shook as he spoke, “My purpose?”
The Chieftain made a grand show of turning in his chair and looking over each shoulder. “Is there an echo in these walls?”
Again, the other members broke into noxious laughter.
The land dweller tilted his chin. “I am just trying to heal, so I can climb to Madhea.”
Chieftain Eryll shook his head. “Yes, I’ve heard about your fool plan to scale Ice Mountain and rid yourself of the witch’s dragon.”
Markus colored. “That is my plan.”
The Chieftain broke into a wide grin. “Sounds like a lovely trip. Be sure to send her our greetings when you get there.”
The piercing laughter from the members was almost unbearable. Tar whimpered and lay down while covering his ears with his paws. Though Ryne had no affinity for the land dweller, the Council’s taunts pricked his ire. He had an overwhelming urge to rip off a sharp ice crystal and hurl it at the Chieftain.
After the laughter had died down, Chieftain Eryll leveled Markus with a sinister glare as his thin lips curled back in a feral snarl. “While you are here with us, boy, know this: we, here in Ice Kingdom follow a strict code, and those who disobey this code are dealt with by the Council.” The Chieftain nodded toward the Guardians. “One act of violence against any of our people, and you shall be met with strict and severe justice. Do I make myself clear?”
Markus’s eyes widened and his face paled, making him look more like a frightened child than a hulking giant. “Aye,” he said in a weak voice.
“I suppose that is a yes?” The Chieftain arched back, never taking his heated gaze from Markus. “Nod if you understand me.”
The land dweller swallowed and did as he was told.
Ryne didn’t know whether to feel pity for the boy or disgust.
“Good. Now go hurry up and heal.” Chieftain Eryll shooed Markus away with an indifferent wave of his hand. “You don’t want to keep your beautiful witch waiting.”
Much to Ryne’s dismay, the squeals of laughter re
sumed. One member reached over and patted the Chieftain on his back as the arrogant slog puffed out his meaty chest with a triumphant, smug smile on his face.
As Markus stepped back into the shadows, Ryne could hear his father murmuring to him. While he couldn’t hear what was being said, he knew his father would try to soothe the land dweller. When Ryne was younger, how he had relished his father’s gentle hand whenever he came to him with cuts and bruises. Now he saw his father’s coddling as nothing more than a reckless indulgence. He would have to speak with Jon before he turned the land dweller into a weakling.
“So, Ryne,” the Chieftain said with a sneer, “tell us of your adventures above the ice.”
Adventures?
Ryne clenched his fists by his side, trying his best to quell the flames of rage that kindled within. “I did not surface merely for an adventure.”
“Ah.” The Chieftain heaved an exaggerated sigh and slumped his soft body against the padded throne. “So more of your doomsday prophecies? Very well, then speak, for we have not gone to supper and I, for one, am famished.” He patted his huge gut.
In that moment, Ryne knew his warnings would fall on deaf ears. “I do not know if what I have to say will do any good,” he spat, “for it seems you’ve already made up your minds. But I must warn you all that the ice melts. Soon, our kingdom will be no more.”
The Chieftain chuckled. “Ice always melts come spring. History has taught us it is the way of the seasons above the surface.”
“Yes, but not like this.” Ryne struggled to keep the anger out of his voice. “Entire villages along the river have been washed away.”
The members gasped and whispered amongst themselves. Ryne was pleased by their startled reactions. Surely they couldn’t refute his evidence.
But, even then, the Chieftain’s booming voice silenced them all. “Do not be fooled by the boy’s tales. He seeks glory for himself and to reclaim his family’s status.”
“That is a lie!” Ryne roared.
Jon grasped him by the shoulder. “Reign in your temper, son.”
Ryne shook off his father’s hand. He would not reign in his feelings. He was tired of begging the Council to understand, just as he was tired of the way his father bowed down to them.
“If it is status you seek,” the Chieftain continued, “my son has already provided a way—an alliance with the house of Eryll.” He heaved another sigh while rolling his eyes. “Though I cannot understand why he wishes to wed your sister when so many other esteemed families have offered their daughters.”
“Esteemed families?” Ryne growled. “What good will esteem do you when you are dead?”
The Chieftain broke into a fit of laughter, and the other members chuckled alongside him.
“You are all fools!” Ryne stomped his foot, causing the ice beneath the padded floor to crackle. “My family seeks an alliance with none of you!”
“Very well, then.” The Chieftain shook his head while waving Ryne away with a flick of the wrist. “The Council has heard enough of your doomsday prophecies, son of Nordlund.”
As Ryne glared at the man who would sentence an entire kingdom to their deaths, rage like he had never known infused his skull. He wanted nothing more than to climb over the offering table and smash his fist through the Chieftain’s fat face.
To make matters worse, Jon had done little to refute the Chieftain’s accusations. But why? Why didn’t his father stand up for him when he knew his son wasn’t seeking glory?
Ryne turned to his father with an accusatory glare.
Meeting his gaze for a moment, Jon stepped forward. “My son speaks the truth.”
The Chieftain laughed. “Then you are as big a fool as he is.”
“If you do not believe him,” Jon suggested, “send a party to the surface.”
Chieftain Eryll’s squinty eyes widened. “And sacrifice them all to the Ice Witch? Now I see where your son inherits his madness. I will not send any more ice dwellers to perish—a lesson you should have learned from your brothers and uncles.”
Ryne had heard enough. He turned on his heel and marched out of the chamber before he did something they would all regret.
MARKUS TRIED HIS BEST to keep up with Jon and Ryne. He was getting better at walking across the ice, but it had been a long day and his legs were tiring from the strain of pulling each foot free with every step. They walked up a steep, dark tunnel, lit by the occasional glowing ice crystal.
Markus had no idea where he was or how to get back to Jon’s dwelling. He only hoped he wouldn’t lose his way. Jon was several paces ahead of him, and Ryne and his dog were even further along. Ura’s brother had been in a foul mood ever since leaving the Council chamber. If it were at all possible, Ryne’s cold silence had made the boat ride across the lake even gloomier.
“Ryne, slow down,” Jon called as he stopped to wait for Markus. “The boy cannot walk as fast as us.”
Markus cringed, wishing Jon hadn’t pointed out his incompetence. He didn’t want to give Ryne more fuel for his anger, so, despite the burning pain in his legs, he tried to move faster.
Ryne turned and marched back to them with enviable ease. Markus could not mistake the hatred bubbling beneath the surface of his eyes - the same look of disdain that Father had given Alec on numerous occasions.
“I am tired and wish to retire to my bed.” Ryne nodded toward Markus. “Or does this sulking giant now sleep beneath my furs?”
Jon held out a hand. “Son, I ask that you reign in your temper.”
“He has lived above the surface. I’m sure he has seen the thaw.” Ryne pointed an accusatory finger at Markus. “You could have defended me, land dweller.”
Tar whimpered beside Ryne, looking from his master to Jon and Markus. Clearly, the dog was not looking forward to a confrontation.
Neither was Markus.
He swallowed as he worked to steady his trembling limbs. He did not want Ryne to drive him away now because he needed time to heal before he scaled Ice Mountain.
Markus shook his head. “I have seen none of what you speak.”
Ryne stormed over and jabbed him in the chest. “Spring has come early this year or have you been too busy slaughtering defenseless animals to notice?”
Markus froze. Instinct told him to push back, but somewhere in the back of his mind he couldn’t escape the nagging feeling of guilt; that he was a monster, just like his father.
“Ryne!”
Markus flinched as Jon stepped between them, glaring at his son. For some reason, Markus expected him to punch Ryne or, at the very least, push him to the ground. So, he was surprised when Jon gently pushed his son until he stepped away.
Ryne turned to his father, his features twisted in a look of pain. “You backed down to that Eryll slog when I needed you most!”
“Ryne.” Jon heaved a sigh. “Swaying the Council takes time.”
“We do not have time!” Ryne held out both hands and pointed to the icy walls around them. “Will none of you listen?”
He turned back to Markus and spoke in an accusatory tone. “Have you not traveled down the Danae to the neighboring villages and seen how the river swells?”
Markus shrugged. “I have only ever traveled to Kicelin.”
“Then you are of no use to me, to any of us!” Ryne spat. “I sleep in my own bed tonight and you may make a bed on the floor.” He turned and marched back up the tunnel, with the dog following behind him.
JON KNELT DOWN BESIDE Markus with a look of concern in his pale eyes. “Are you sure you will be comfortable?”
Looking away, Markus had wanted to say that the attention Jon lavished upon him was far more uncomfortable than a hard floor, but he kept quiet. After all, he was indebted to Jon and Ura for saving him and nursing his injuries. “I have slept on harder surfaces than this many a time on the hunt.”
Markus was lying on a makeshift cot of raised furs on the floor of the chamber at the front of the dwelling where he had first seen Ura arguing w
ith Bane. To his left were two door flaps; one led to Ryne’s chamber and the other to what Jon had jokingly referred to as “the brewing room,” but it was more like a cramped hole with a wooden bucket in the center. The family actually used the room to relieve themselves.
To Markus’s right were two more door flaps. Markus assumed they led to the chambers of Ura and Jon. Facing him was yet another door, the exit to the dwelling, which was covered with a heavy drape resembling the slick coat of a fish.
Jon sat beside Markus and placed the warming stone next to him. “Here, this will keep you warm tonight. All you need to do is close your eyes and will it to warm you.”
“Will it?” asked Markus, puzzled as to how he could make an object do his bidding.
“Imagine the stone is warming your bed,” Jon said, picking it up and closing his eyes. Within a few seconds, the stone turned a glowing pink. Jon opened his eyes and handed it to Markus.
Markus was amazed as warmth radiated all around him.
“Now ask it to keep you warm tonight,” Jon said.
Markus stared down at the glowing rock in his hand. “Do I ask it out loud?”
Jon shrugged. “You may say it to yourself.”
Markus closed his eyes and murmured to himself, asking the stone to keep him warm. To Markus’s surprise, it pulsated in his hand. Smiling, Markus slipped the warm stone beneath the furs.
“Do you sleep here, too?” Markus wondered, feeling slightly awkward that Jon was sitting beside him. The narrow cot of furs looked only big enough to sleep one person.
Jon shook his head. “No, I only wait for Ura. I will retire to my chamber when she returns. Do you mind waiting up with me?”
“Nay,” Markus answered. For sure, he would not sleep until he knew Ura had returned safely.
Jon rubbed the deep lines etched into his narrow forehead. Markus thought how Jon seemed to care for his children; how he showed them love and patience even when they did not always seem to consider his feelings. If Markus had run off as Ura had done, or spoken as Ryne had, he knew his own father wouldn’t have been so understanding.