The Frost Queen moved to the center of the ledge, where a circle had been drawn in the ice. What looked like the sharp edge of a sword poked out of it. If Tor Lir did not know any better, he would have assumed the Frost Queen planned on stabbing him in the circle and offering his blood as a sacrifice to the Creator.
Extending a finger, the Frost Queen rested it on the pointed tip. “Few are worthy to come here and see the edge of the world,” she whispered with reverence. “The mountains are dangerous and full of the unknown. Although many beasts have been captured and tamed, there are still some who remain in slumber, hidden from the world. In the days of war, the Heroes of Old captured the flying, fire-breathing beasts, dranagins, who lived under the mountains in the east. But no one asked about what dwells under the mountains in the west, and no one thought to wake it up. Except for me.”
She smiled—a wild, satisfying smile—and her throat moved as she swallowed. Her fur fell off one shoulder, leaving a glimmer of white skin glittering in the sunlight.
Tor Lir felt something hard within him. She was cold. Relentless. Beautiful even. But desperate. She had lost everything and was bent on revenge. She had everything to gain and nothing to lose now. Her reckless actions and her mind were bent on one thing: the destruction of the Therian. He supposed they deserved it from her point of view, for their terrible actions. Another side of him wanted to understand more, and yet a wariness held him back. He was tired of the mortals and their problems, tired of figuring out their mysteries and trying to save them. Whether they deserved it or not. Hadn’t they fought the Great War against the immortals? Hadn’t they won? Why wasn’t it enough? Why all the scrabbling and warring between clans and people groups?
Sometimes he wondered if he were the source of the chaos. But this, this was not him. It was the mortals. Try as he might to appease them and lay their worries to rest, another problem, another mystery appeared, demanding attention as soon as he solved the last.
Emotion faded, and he gave the Frost Queen a blank stare. “What will you wake up?”
“You travel with an Enchantress,” the Frost Queen skirted the question. “She tames monsters. I saw when I looked into the Clyear and it all became clear. You’re one of her monsters, aren’t you? And if I awake another, will she tame it?”
Tor Lir thought of Morag the water beast, Grift the golden griffin, Ava the dragon with blue feathers, and Zaul, the oversized lizard. “Her monsters are her concern.”
The Frost Queen laughed. “I thought as much. Give me your hand.”
Woodenly he walked to her side and reached out a hand to touch the blade. Instead of cutting him it was solid, gentle. She pressed his hand against it, and he felt a hum; something vibrated within him.
“There is a tribe of Ezincks that dwell here,” the Frost Queen remarked. “They call themselves the Tribe of Minas, and they are fierce warriors. In the past they had a deal with the Therian, a sacrifice, often an unwed female, in exchange for protection. Their number was dying out, as were the Therian, but after the war both parties grew in number. The Therian, however, did not stay faithful. They committed crimes against the mountain folk time and time again. They cannot be forgiven, so the Tribe of Minas came to me. I promised to help them, and now it is time.”
“What is that vibration? That sound?” Tor Lir stood across from her, both hands on the ice now. He could see his reflection and hers in it, two individuals with a common purpose but different approaches.
“You feel it, don’t you.” The Frost Queen seemed pleased. “After I heard about my children, I came here and felt it for the first time. I didn’t know what it was then, so I went to the Tribe of Minas for answers. The natives called it Orenda. The power that clings to the mountain folk. It is potent here. It grows and swells within you. Some say when you are aligned in your thinking it can create miracles. Some say it’s the power the Rulers of the West used when they fought the last battle to take over Castle Range. It often manifests as white light, as the stories say. It comes from here, and if you can capture it and hold it within, it might be a useful power to have during your later adventures.”
“Orenda,” Tor Lir repeated. He glanced over at the Frost Queen, a slow smile curving his lips. “Later adventures? So, you will not kill me after this?”
She laughed. “If you help me, I will not kill you. I no longer feel the desire to be responsible for your death. Citrine will come for you. I know she will. Now focus. Close your eyes and concentrate on the vibration.”
Tor Lir allowed the warmth to envelope him. “Is this what you saw when you looked into the Clyear of Revelation?”
The Frost Queen kept her eyes on the surface as it rippled and trembled. Her eyes were lost in its blue light and her nose twitched. “You and Citrine both have access to Orenda. Now focus and stop fishing for information. You think I don’t know your game, but I would not be queen if I did not see right through you.”
Despite himself, Tor Lir smiled and gave in to the sensation. The blade moved, pointing downward and a faint roar sounded. It increased, a thunder like a storm hurling over the edge of the cliffs to devastate the land. Tor Lir’s hands trembled, and the blade of ice shook, rattling the ledge they stood on until Tor Lir wondered if it would break apart under his feet. The trembling escalated. The Frost Queen threw back her head and took a shuddering breath. Somewhere, Tor Lir heard a roar of pain as though a blade had been slammed into a creature, goading it awake. He lifted his head as white stone and gray rock exploded across the Cascade Mountains.
29
Volcano
Slivers of ice flew, and the mountain gave way with a deathly shudder. A terrible roar surrounded Tor Lir, like a storm at sea, but something much larger than that. The gray mountain peaks trembled, and snow erupted off of them like a white volcano. Stones rattled loose and boulders heaved down the mountainside, collecting snow, smashing against trees, becoming rounder and larger until they looked like massive snowballs rolling down the mountainside. White spray filled the air, and the roaring intensified.
As the whirlwind of snow rose, Tor Lir faced the Frost Queen, and he felt, once again, she’d betrayed him. But this time he would not resort to violence. He kept his tone even. “Is this what you expected? Is this what our joint power created?”
Her ruby lips curled, and she brushed back her snow-white hair. She pointed back to the vortex of white. “Don’t look away now, the show has just begun.”
A pinkish flush covered her cheeks, and Tor Lir studied her, recognizing the warring emotions within. Part of it was anticipation, but the other part was fear. She had tempted fate, made her move, and the way events would play out was now out of her control. It had to be why she’d sent Citrine back to Stronghold with the Clyear of Revelation. They each had their part to play, like a game of cards, each taking their turn. An uneasy feeling snaked through Tor Lir and he backed away, holding onto the wall to keep his balance as the storm increased.
A flash of light came out of the storm, and then a booming crackle of what sounded like thunder. The white mist cleared, and the mountain erupted. Chunks of rock and dirt hurled through the air, and Tor Lir could have sworn he saw a paw. Pink-padded with curved, black claws.
He took a step closer to the edge and squinted. The roar came again, like the cry of a beast awakened from its slumber. This time a long snout with a black nose appeared along with white-gray hair, blending in with the snow. A hairy leg as thick around the trunk of an elder tree slammed down on a chunk of broken rock, sending a flurry of snow and rock rolling down what was left of the jagged mountainside.
Horror and wonder filled Tor Lir, and something deep within his belly pulsed. As if his eyes were opened to the knowledge, he understood why Citrine collected her monsters, her beasts. There was something breathtaking about the colossal size of this new beast, something raw and wild that tugged at him and made him want to see what great feats it could do. Letting go of the wall, Tor Lir walked to the edge of the ledge. Icy-cold wind rat
tled through his clothing, and the stone under his feet shook. But he ignored it. Craning his neck, he struggled to see the monster that he’d helped the Frost Queen awaken.
A pink tongue swiped the air, tasting the snow and then threw back its head and growled. The deep, heavy sound shook the mountains, and when the creature put its head down, Tor Lir saw a bear.
At least, it looked similar to a bear, covered in thick white fur. It had feet the size of age-old trees and a massive head that seemed as big as a hill. Its jaws were wide, revealing curved fangs that glinted in the light as it roared. Eyes, red and crazed with rage, scanned the sky as the bear sat back on its hunches. Suddenly, the problem with the Therian paled in comparison to the gigantic beast.
Tor Lir stared, taking in its appearance, and its curved claws. If the mountain folk were lucky, they would be far away by now, because fighting a beast like this was impossible. It would destroy everything in its path.
Turning around, Tor Lir studied the Frost Queen. She, too, had left the safety of the arched tunnel and stood out on the ledge, hands clasped at her breasts, staring at the monster they’d awoken. Wind whipped her hair back, and he saw her white teeth set in a mad grin and her eyes, wide and wet.
“You want Citrine to tame this monster,” he almost whispered. It was not a question, just an acknowledgement of her desire.
The Frost Queen licked her lips, her eyes never leaving the beast. “Yes. But only after it destroys the Therian.”
30
Run
Averl tumbled down the mountainside, gaining speed as the storm raged above her. Something slammed into her back, knocking the air out of her. A whimper escaped her lips, and a wetness slid down her cheeks. Snow. Tears. Perhaps even blood. Her feet kicked, struggling for purchase. If she kept sliding, she’d end up buried under the mounting snow. And then a hand gripped her elbow, yanking her against a warm body. Averl almost sobbed with relief. Wiping snow out of her face, she turned to face one of the Ezincks. Agrella. “Averl,” she shouted over the thunder, her mouth set in a hard line. “Run. Get out of here.”
Teeth clattering, Averl nodded her understanding. “The outsiders have come. As we feared, they awoke a sleeping giant. We will all die if we stay here.” Agrella shook her head, eyes dark with fury, grief, and determination. “Head west, toward the Green Stone. Its light will keep you going. Don’t stop until you reach Oceantic.”
Averl opened her mouth, but the wind blew snow into it. She gagged and coughed. “What about grandmother? What about everyone else?”
Agrella gripped both of Averl’s shoulders in her hands. Hard. “Listen to me. You cannot go back. You cannot stop. The monster is faster than all of us. I will do what I can, and we will join you. Find the Rulers of the West. You will be safe there. Understand?”
Averl nodded. Her vision blurred and swam, but she fought against the wind and placed a hand on her heart. Agrella pushed her away and ran, just as the mountain shook again.
A growl split the air, so loud Averl cowered, hands over her ears. Her heart quaked in her chest, and her feet stumbled. But she couldn’t fall. If she didn’t stay upright, she’d be buried under the snow. Rocks would press down upon her, sending her to an early death. Something brown stuck out of a snowbank, and Averl reached for it, relieved to find a tree branch to give her leverage against the thick snow. Her limbs trembled with exhaustion, but she focused, setting one foot in front of the other, leaning on the branch when the ground convulsed.
Another volley of snow threw her off her feet, and she tumbled headlong to a cliff. She saw the sharp crags of the rocks and a waterfall, thundering down to an icy death. Snow poured past her and hurled over the cliff. A scream ripped from her throat, and she thrashed wildly as the snow pushed her toward the edge. Her arms and legs struggled, attempting to stop the onslaught of the snow and push her back. The branch she carried snapped, and her fingers tore free, bloody, perhaps broken.
A blood-curling yell came from her lips as Averl was swept over the edge. The scream made her feel better, and she kept her eyes wide, turning her head back for one last view of the monster. The giant bear stood up on its hind legs and roared, a bellow in her direction, filled with the scent of rotting flesh. Averl whirled her arms one last time, pedaling against snow and air. Her stomach flipped, and a horrible sensation filled her. Death. She was airborne out over the cliffs, and when she fell into the freezing river, the ice, snow and rock would crush her.
Tears filled her eyes, although there was nothing she could do. Her thoughts flew back to grandmother, the stick painting runes on her brown skin, the warmth of the fire, and the warning. The strangers who came and destroyed her world. A buzzing sensation began in her belly, and something clamped around her waist.
Averl’s scream died and her head fell back, gazing at a ball of gold which blocked out the swirling white storm. A sigh escaped her lips as she stared at the creature that carried her. It had the face of an eagle, the body of a lion, and broad wings which beat hard and fast with a desperate intensity. They soared about the falling rocks, the churning wind, and the blizzard of snow. Relief surged through Averl. What was this beast? Why had it saved her? Were there more? Would her people be saved after all? If so, they could survive and go on. A sob of gratitude poured out of her lips.
31
Pressure
Pressure squeezed Citrine. She opened her eyes. One of her legs was trapped against something soft and furry. Wet liquid pooled around her, and she took a breath. Dusty air filled her nostrils, and a niggling began in her throat. She coughed, the sound loud in the blackness. Stones jarred and shifted around her, and she heard low moans. Desperation clawed at her. Faintly, in her subconscious she heard voices. They whispered and wept, some in pain and others in fear.
She strained to listen to the beasts, but their words were unintelligible. Her thoughts flickered to her beasts on the outside. Would they know what happened? She pushed her thoughts toward them, seeking to make communication with first Grift, then Ava. Zaul would be too far away, and Morag was supposed to be in the deep waters of Oceantic, keeping an eye on the Udi until Citrine was free to return to them. A fuzzy sound met her ears. Frustrated, she pushed against the rocks that held her prisoner. Stones rolled around her and moved, sending a cloud of dust her way but giving her better air flow. She pushed again, opening and closing her eyes as she swayed and stood to her feet. Blackness met her eyes. She fumbled and searched for a light, but as she reached into her bag, her fingers brushed against the shape of a wing. The Clyear of Revelation.
Almost holding her breath, Citrine slowly pulled it free and felt it in the darkness. There was one wing, and her fingers touched the slope of its back to the lines of its legs, one of which ended in a sharp point. Gone. Broken. She chewed her lower lip and moved her fingers faster, finding the other wing gone. When she brought her hand up to where the head had been, there was nothing but broken shards, shattered by her fall. An ache began in her middle. Was she wounded? She desperately wanted light, to examine the broken Clyear—what the cousins had fought over—although now she wouldn't be able to use it.
Citrine took a deep breath. She could do this without the Clyear of Revelation. After all, it had been her wits that helped her defeat the Master of the Forest. Standing tall, she ignored the discomfort in her bones, threw back her head, opened her hands, and listened. Her mind weaved through the babbling voices and forced its way through the stones where she was buried so far underground. Her head thumped, and then she caught the threads of communication, a voice she could understand.
Grift.
Mistress. Where are you? Are you alive? We must get out.
Grift. It's okay, she lied, disliking the panic she heard in Grift’s thoughts. I am in the Therian's Stronghold, near the dungeons. The mountain shook and collapsed. I have to find my way out; can you tell me what is going on out there?
A beast erupted out of a mountain.
A beast? Citrine almost laughed. What kind of
beast? Surely no beast can be powerful enough to cause such an avalanche.
Grift snorted. It is like a white bear, bigger than the temple in Sanga Sang, with huge claws and thick jaws. It is frightened, angry, confused, and destroying everything in its path. I found a child whom I am taking to safety. I will return for other survivors.
Grift. Numbness swept over her. Be careful. Some might mistake your intentions and take you for an enemy. You should go away while you can. I will figure out a solution to this madness.
Mistress. What of Tor Lir?
Citrine sighed. He can take care of himself. The Frost Queen has a purpose for him.
As you wish.
The connection to Grift faded away, although Citrine found she could still connect to it if she wished. She took comfort in that. Keeping her eyes closed, she searched for Ava.
A scream dove through her thoughts and shattered her concentration. Citrine opened her eyes. Pale lights flickered in the distance. Her heart thumped a warning in her chest. It could not be torch light. She assumed it was a beast, but whether it was Therian or one of the wild beasts, she was unsure. It could see her in the dark, and shortly after she heard a sniffing sound.
Rocks moved around her, and then a torch lit up the gloom. Citrine glanced around and saw she wasn't the only one to escape the crush of rock and stone. Most of the warriors who had been with Lord Nodin were near the collapse, and piles of rubble blocked the way back. Citrine glared at the blockage, as though it would fade under the hostility in her gaze.
Forgetting Ava, she dashed to the stones and began to move them, searching for Elbron underneath the crush of rubble. She worked quickly, unsure whether she was burying him farther or releasing others who were trapped.
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