His Frozen Fingertips

by Charlotte Bowyer

  “I guess this is the end of my adventure, then,” he whispered, the words evaporating from parched lips. Blood was spreading through the blond hair, staining it dark.

  Asa shook his head, screwing his face up. “No, it can’t be. You can’t die, Avery, that’s not how it happens.”

  Avery cringed as he tried to move himself, reaching an arm out to Asa. His fingers, usually so warm, were like ice on Asa’s cold arm. Asa covered the frigid fingers with his own and blew on them, as his friend had done for him so many times before.

  “Hurts.” Avery breathed, closing his eyes. “I didn’t think it would hurt, Asa. I thought dying was supposed to be painless.”

  A weak hand moved to touch the wound on his head but Asa caught it in his own. He wouldn’t let Avery know how bad it was, it would only go to upset him. Asa pulled the blond to him in a close embrace, feeling the wasting muscle shudder beneath his thin fingers. He rubbed smooth, calm circles into his back, letting the tears flow now he wasn’t being watched.

  “I love you,” he croaked, the beach around him blurring. “I love you so much.”

  “What?” Avery stirred, breaths rattling in his chest. “What did you say?”

  “I love you!” Asa sobbed, pulling him closer. “You were right, it was possible. You’re my best friend and I love you.”

  Avery managed to pull away from the brunette until they were eye to eye, nose to nose. Asa could see how pale and translucent his friend’s face was, drained and hollow.

  “You mean that?” he murmured.

  “Yes.”

  Asa could see his friend beginning to cry.

  “But you don’t believe in that sort of love.” Avery tried to blink tears away from his eyes but they were too heavy. Asa wiped them away with his thumb.

  “I believe in you,” he whispered. Asa pressed cracked lips to Avery’s forehead. He tasted of salt, of dusty snow, of the road they’d travelled. Avery smiled, relaxing into Asa’s arms.

  Asa thought for a moment, mind clinging desperately to any possibility of hope. He couldn’t cure a head wound, he couldn’t just bandage his friend. Something cracked inside him. He couldn’t do it. Why was he so useless? Trembling fingers moved to unfasten Avery’s cloak, catching on something. Asa inspected the item. It was the pendant given to them in the palace, all of those weeks ago.

  “That’s it!” he exclaimed, flicking the worn cord over Avery’s head. “Avery, I can get you home.”

  “What?” his friend mumbled groggily, hazel eyes struggling to focus on Asa.

  “You had the pendant all along, you idiot,” Asa laughed, hysterical. “I can send you back.”

  Avery looked at him for a long, steady moment before speaking. “No, you can’t, Asa.”

  “What do you mean?” Asa asked. “I have it here.”

  “It doesn’t work.” He grimaced in pain as Asa jolted his body.

  “What?”

  “The little girl told me, you know, when we were with him. You were being kept away from me and she just took it and asked what it was. I told them that we’d been given it to get us home and she said that it was just stone. It’s just stone, Asa. That sort of magic doesn’t exist, not out here. Queen Ria, she lied to us.”

  Asa numbly dropped the pendant to the sandy ground. He resumed the soothing back rub with eyes glazed. Avery began to sob, shivering with feverish cold, unaffected by Asa’s whispered condolences and dropping tears.

  “It’s okay, Avery,” Asa murmured, panicked mind telling him the opposite. “It’s okay. You’ll be fine. We just have to get you back home.”

  Avery gave a small lurch and lay more still in his arms. Asa looked hurriedly down, fearing the worst, but saw the continued rise and fall of his friend’s chest.

  “It doesn’t hurt so much anymore,” Avery commented, with a small chuckle. “Funny, eh?”

  “Hilarious,” Asa choked, a mixture of a sob and a laugh escaping together. “Oh God, I can’t do this alone. I can’t!”

  “You won’t have to.” Avery gripped Asa’s hand with his own. “I’ll never let you go. You know that.”

  “Don’t leave me here alone.” Asa moved as close to Avery as he could. He could feel how cold the other’s fingers were, cooling with an alarming rapidness. Avery’s face was turning grey. Asa leant forwards, the sick tang of blood on his tongue. He had the sudden, unexplainable urge to pull his friend to his chest, to warm him up, he reasoned.

  Avery’s blond eyelashes were caked in blood. His breathing was fast and light, all in the throat. As Asa embraced him, he gave a small sigh. His lips were chapped and raw, and the sound of his tongue wetting them was like sandpaper against stone. Asa leant closer to his face, trying desperately to feel the gentle breath against his cheek. It only took a slight turn of his head for their lips to brush together, causing Asa to recoil. It was a wistful, fleeting sort of kiss, bittersweet in its finality.

  “I’ll always be with you, Asa,” Avery tried to speak reassuringly, but his voice sounded strained and hoarse.

  “No!” Asa shouted, dropping Avery’s hand like it had scalded him. A new wave of tears pushed past his eyelashes. “You’re going to leave me. It’s all my fault, this always happens. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

  “Asa.” His breaths hitched. “You’ve got to do it. You’ve got to.”

  “But how?” Asa asked him desperately. “I—I can’t.”

  Avery shook his head mutely, sinking backwards. His mouth opened and closed like he was trying to speak, but couldn’t. An expression of fear and desperation coming over his dust-covered features. Asa pulled him close to him, feeling struggling breaths against his ear.

  “You can.” Avery reached up, batting Asa’s hand away and touching the gash on his head, bringing his fingers close to his eyes to see the red on them.

  His eyes rolled backwards and he fell limp, dropping his body weight fully upon Asa who held him with a desperate hurt deep in his chest. Avery smiled and gave a small twitch, and the light rise and fall of his chest stopped.

  “No!” Asa pushed his friend’s body onto the sand in front of him. “No! Avery, come on! Wake up, you idiot. Wake up!”

  He slapped Avery’s pale face, but no angry flush rose to meet him. He looked into the cold hazel eyes, and they were just that. Hazel. A light-brown colour. No sparks of caramel or green met his frantic gaze. They were gone. And so was Avery. Asa closed his best friend’s eyes, fingers lingering on the still-damp cheeks. His tears had outlived him.

  “You can,” he murmured to himself. “You can and you must, Asa Hounslow.”

  He stood, legs weak under his slight body, managing to walk in small stuttering steps to his sword and pick it up, the weight enormous in his thin arms. He turned. Erebus was watching him, a small smile playing around the twisted features. Black soulless eyes gazed dispassionately into his own brown.

  “You’re dying, Asa,” he said, voice as natural as the waves. It was an indescribable sound. It was the cawing of a gull, the wind in the grasses, the scrunch of sand underfoot.

  “I know,” Asa replied, vision swimming. He wanted to lie down next to Avery, to clasp him close and join him in peace. He wanted to be at home, in bed, with Avery bringing him a mug of tea and a plate of charcoaled toast. He didn’t want to die. But he stayed standing. He had to do this.

  “You’re not going to kill me,” the ethereal stated, standing neutrally in front of him. “You won’t.”

  “And why not?” Asa asked, sword swaying in his hands. “Why should I not? You going to kill me first, is that it?”

  “Oh, I won’t kill you, Asa.” He smiled. “Time will do that service for me. No, you won’t kill me because your greatest fear is not death. You fear death as one would fear sleep. It’s inevitable for you. Your greatest fear is . . . loneliness,” he snorted.

  Asa shook his head. “You’re making a big mistake not fighting me.”

  “You wouldn’t want to die alone and forgotten on some deserted beach,�
� Erebus crooned, moving closer to him. “Killing you now would be a mercy compared to the pain that would cause you.”

  “I guess we’re in a paradox here,” he growled, barely coherent, head spinning sickeningly. “I wish to kill you, yet your death would cause me pain?”

  “Quite right,” Erebus agreed companionably. “I must say, I am surprised that the two of you got this far. You couldn’t have done it without Avery.”

  “I know,” Asa said. He clutched at his chest, where he could have sworn his heart had been just moments before.

  “So, Asa. Will it be abandonment and cold or will it be sufferance and peace?” he asked him, smiling an indulgent smirk.

  “Simple choice.” Asa glared, steadying his footing on the shifting sand.

  “As I thought.” Erebus smirked.

  “Quite,” he replied, giving a terse smile whilst tightening his sweaty grip on the cotton wrapped iron. He waited for a moment, and then he lunged.

  Erebus shrieked in anger as Asa made for him, his form growing sharper, truly inhuman. Asa heaved the metal up at him, swinging it as hard as he knew how. The beast was terrible in his anger. Erebus slashed and grabbed at Asa, who didn’t feel the pain. He knew that blood was trickling down his back but did not stop his relentless assault on Erebus. He could do this. There was nothing that Erebus could do to make him scared now, nothing. Erebus was vulnerable.

  Asa moved his sword through the air, hitting the creature on the nape of the neck. The blade sank into the ancient flesh like a knife into butter. The ethereal gave an inhuman screech as the force of the blow pushed him to his knees. There was a sickening crack, and its head dropped to the scarlet-stained sand. Asa stared at it for a moment.

  “Mercy me, I did it. How in Eodem—?” Blood was dripping into his eyes, obscuring his vision. Asa wiped it off with a quivering hand, numb to the gouges carved like crevasses in the pale skin of his back.

  He coughed, not bothering to cover his mouth. Raw droplets of red fell to the ground. Asa spat the revolting substance out, feeling his parched throat burn with the effort. Well, at least it was a form of warmth. The ground seemed to roll beneath him, and Asa struggled to keep his balance, wobbling on legs that should not have been able to support his weight. His feet were light now, too light to feel, but the act of taking a step proved too much. He crashed to the sand.

  “Avery?” he asked, without thinking, holding a hand out. “Avery? No. He’s gone now.”

  Asa sat up, vision fading in and out of focus. Instinctively he did not even try to stand up, electing to shuffle forwards on his hands and knees to where his best friend lay. Had he been reduced to this? The biting wind hit his wounded skin, allowing himself now to whimper at the harsh sensation. It took an age for him to reach Avery’s side. He looked at the grey, still face.

  “Avery,” he whispered, collapsing on the cold sand next to him. “I did it.”

  He turned on his side to look at his friend, a hand reaching out to clasp his as they had done so many times before to get to sleep. Avery’s fingers were not warm and safe now. Death had taken safety from those warm hands.

  The beach around him was beginning to blur around the edges, the sounds of the gulls and waves growing louder, and yet more faded. Asa was tired. He stroked Avery’s face with a numb hand, smiling. His body was feeling so warm; the pain was not a problem anymore.

  “They said we couldn’t, but we did.” His words slurred together and he closed his eyes, feeling for the first time in forever watery sunlight warm his features. He rolled over onto his back, managing to close Avery’s fingers in on his. He laughed in his own bitter triumph as he registered the pain in his lungs and in his back. Somehow the world felt like it was swinging beneath him, sending him off into a deeper sleep. He knew that the pain would be gone in time. He relaxed into the sand.

  Asa’s mind began ticking over faded memories from his past, like it was telling him his own story. He saw himself, a thin child with overlarge brown eyes and thick lashes. His parents were with him, piling more and more food upon his plate—wild rice and thick sauces with meats in them. He noticed, for the first time, them giving up their portions to the ravenous child, unconscious of their sacrifice. Avery came into the picture, a chubby, dirty child who bounded along behind him like some overgrown puppy. He saw his parents grow older, worn and thin, but so proud of him, so loving. He saw his own happiness, gap-toothed smiles and long limbs giving way to a sober face and lean muscle. He saw himself wake up for the first time alone in the house. He saw himself walk away from his past, leaving in the same way that his parents had done. He saw himself finally completing his adventure. Now he knew how his story would end.

  The magical pendant that he had torn from around Avery’s neck started to glow. Asa recognised the brightness of light from beneath closed eyelids. One hand reached out to stifle the source of it but it shone through. He grasped it hard in his hand.

  The world seemed to bulge around him, everything too big, too bright. The intense colours and shapes made him smile despite himself. But how? His eyes were closed.

  He exhaled, and then knew no more.

  TWELVE

  ASA COULDN’T SWIM. HE had never been able to. When he was younger, his dreams had been haunted by lakes over ten men deep, waves which crashed down on his head. He had never been one to partake in the swimming games that his friends had, splashing around in the freezing salt waters of Salatesh Lake. But he was swimming now. Or, to be precise, floating. Weightless. The water that surrounded his body was warm and all consuming. He wondered if that was what it was like to drown. But he did not feel the need to take a breath.

  Nothing happened. His mind was curiously foggy, he could remember everything, or so he assumed; but could not quite put his finger on what he could not recollect. His thoughts were slow and languid, like he was suspended in a time that ran slower to the one he knew. But something twitched in Asa’s mind; it was as if he wasn’t supposed to be here. Though his body wanted to float in this infinite calmness, his mind realised that he was sinking.

  He tried to strike out, to swim for the surface. His movements were clumsy but graceful. As he pushed his legs in a subdued kicking motion, he had the all-encompassing need to take a breath. He opened his mouth and inhaled as hard as he possibly could, panicking when nothing passed his lips. Asa’s thoughts flashed tauntingly in front of his eyes. This was his last chance. If he was going to escape then he had to reach the surface. The waters were dark around him. He couldn’t even see his hands, though he waved them in front of his face. At once a thought occurred to him. How could he possibly see with his eyes shut? With a tremendous effort, Asa pulled his eyes open, and he was wrenched from the warm comfort of the water with a painful ripping sensation.

  He gasped aloud in shock, cold pain shooting through every one of his limbs, from his chest right down to his fingers. The sense of directionless drifting was gone in a flash, and he was lying on a cold stone floor with his cheek pressed into the tiles. All around him, filling the echoing room, were the sounds of people scattering, shrieking as they ran from him. His chest burned, nothing to do with the deep cuts across his back.

  “Let me through,” a low, commanding voice of a woman ordered. “As your queen I tell you, let me through.”

  Asa saw a pair of fitted leather boots over breeches, like those of an army officer’s, and the hem of an expensive skirt. He couldn’t move, and when he opened his mouth only a groan came through. “Asa Hounslow,” the woman said, bending down to look at his face. With strong hands, she moved him onto his back so that he was facing the high ceiling of the Throne Room in Brandenbury. Asa was silent, mouth open half in pain and half in shock. “Can it truly be you?”

  He twitched his head mutely in a weak combination of a shrug and a nod, eyes unable to focus on even the decorated ceiling. The woman, who he now recognised as the queen, removed her dark glasses, revealing eyes that were just as black as any other ethereal’s.

  “Ke
an,” she barked, turning away so that Asa could not see her.

  “Yes, my lady?”

  “I need a healer.” Her hand felt under Asa’s chin for a pulse. “And quickly!”

  Her voice was urgent. Asa could not quite figure out why. He heard footsteps running from the room, the slam of a door. Time drifted as he stared at the gilding above him, eyes open but barely recognising what he was seeing. The door opened again and he could feel a woman’s hands on him, softer than the queen’s. His mouth was pulled open and some herbal concoction was poured down his throat, another vial of liquid held under his nose, startling him with the vile smell of it.

  He recoiled from the scent, pulling back from the healer’s warm hands. The room was shifted into clearer focus, a terrible taste in his mouth. Asa shot up and started to retch, vomiting up the medicine. Once the violent coughing had subsided, he looked up to the faces of three people, two whom he recognised. The memories of what had happened flickered inside of his head and Asa’s shoulders fell with the terrible pain of it. The healer put a small bottle to his lips and he swallowed the substance reflexively. It tasted of mint and of willow oil.

  “That should help with the pain,” she told him, wiping saliva away from his chin. Asa would have been embarrassed, but could not find it in him to care. He stared into the queen’s black eyes, remembering the others of her kind whom he had met.

  “Where is your companion, Asa?” she asked him, eyebrows furrowing. “Why are you alone?”

  “Avery,” he mumbled, slurring his words. “He’s gone.”

  “Gone.” She retained an impassive mask. “I am sorry, Asa.”

  “No, you’re not.” His desiccated lips cracked as he spoke. “You want to know if I did it.”

  “Yes,” she ordered. “You may rest once you have told me.”

  Asa licked his lips with his dry tongue. “They’re dead, or as close as they can be.”