Winter Reign: Rise of the Winter Queen

by N. M. Howell

  “You surely must, my love. But perhaps you’re forgetting something.”

  “Forgetting?”

  “You have a cousin: Ciraa, though I suspect that’s not her real name. More still, you’ve a sister.”

  “By the grace of the Almighty, I do.”

  I turn from Eduard to look to Delara, who has stayed some twenty yards ahead of us, scorning our company, since the day we left. She is there, halted, staring at something from the top of the hill we’re climbing. I want to call out to her, but in three weeks she has only opened her mouth to eat and to tell me to leave her be. I enlarge my stride to take the hill faster. I reach the top and look out in horror.

  It is not a hill we have climbed, but one of the small rises of earth at the foot of mountains. We have reached what was once the place of the Doomed Mountains yet there is nothing here but death and destruction. The mountains are utterly gone, a vast crater in the earth as far as the eyes can see, as if some great force had dug a grave for every living thing past, present, and future. It is most awful to see the land so mutilated, so scarred. I grew up hearing tales of these great mountains, their lowest peak forty thousand feet high and their highest so high they pierced the heavens, yet there is naught in front of me but a great yawning gash in the earth, so wide and deep that the bottom cannot be seen: an unimaginable pitch black depth within the land.

  I turn away, unable to bear it. I am about to fall into Eduard’s arms when I see them. The Thraenns. Maimed and dashed and dismembered beyond belief. Were it not for that famed fair skin I might not even know these were remains of humans. It is the grisliest destruction I have ever seen, more terrible than any and all of my nightmares combined. I feel the sick rising from my stomach and I drop to my knees to let it out. I can hear Delara doing the same behind me. I turn to her, place my hands on her shoulders. It is the first time since we left Moerdra Castle that she has allowed me to touch her. I take advantage of the moment, wrap my arms around her, and I don’t know which of us is strengthening the other. Eduard walks to the precipice and stares down into the black.

  “Almighty, save us. I knew not that such destruction was possible. The land here is simply… gone. How did she amass such power, enough to leave a bottomless pit in her wake? I cannot even see the other side. It is as we feared: she has taken the stones. All of them.”

  “Did she use them on the mountains?” I ask.

  “No. She had to destroy the mountains to get to the stones. And it would have taken a great deal of power, perhaps more than she’s ever summoned before. She will be weak. Likely weaker than she’s been since the last age of the world. If we could find her now, before her strength returns, we could end this.

  “Reach her?” I ask, trying to keep at bay the tears that will not stop, “Where would we even look?”

  “I do not know, Nevena, but if she regains her strength before we find her and if she figures out how to use the stones, the world will fall to her reign and there won’t be a force in heaven or earth that can stop her. With a breath she’ll erase the three of us from history.”

  “But you faced her before, right? How did you defeat…”

  Suddenly I hear the sound of labored breath, soft coughs from a cluster of trees near the crater’s edge. I’m so surprised and my nerves are so shattered from the sight of the horror that my first instinct is to cast a spell into the thicket. One of the trees comes flying out of the earth. I hear a scream - a small scream, hardly more than a whimper. I rise and rush to the cluster to search the brush, and sure enough it is a child. The boy can’t have passed more than six winters, but his clothes are mostly torn off and he is so dirty his fair skin is almost hidden. I search him over to see where he is hurt and I find no wound. Not a single scrape. Yet the boy looks ill; he is trembling in dirt as if something were eating him inside. Eduard and Delara come up behind me.

  “How badly is he hurt?” Eduard asks.

  “I- I- I’m not sure. There isn’t a mark on him and yet he seems as if he’s dying. I’ve looked over his body, but whatever this is, it is inside of him.”

  Eduard kneels beside us and holds his hand over the boy’s chest. At once, the boy’s heart and all the vessels leading out from it are visible through the skin, glowing a dark beautiful blue. Eduard jerks his hand back immediately.

  “Heavensoars,” he says, looking at the boy as if he were deceased already. “This boy has touched the Empress.”

  Dazed, I look back at the small child and my heart breaks. The dirt may hide his skin, but not his beauty. I cannot believe that this innocent, fragile child has been condemned by the mere touch of evil.

  “We cannot leave him here,” I say.

  “I should never dream of it,” says Eduard. “We must take him to shelter, but do not let him touch your skin. You would surely die.”

  Chapter 6

  Some hours later we are still skirting the edge of the crater and I am floating the boy alongside me. We have not come across many bodies this far out, but we can still smell the putrescence as we go.

  “We would do well to mind our tongues.”

  I stumble. It is the first time Delara has spoken in weeks.

  “What do you mean, my sister?” I ask, hoping to be forgiven and accepted at last.

  “You do me the gravest dishonor by presuming. I am neither sister nor friend to you. Would the times were more peaceful, I should have you in the dungeons of Moerdra Castle. A sorceress parading as a servant girl and with enough temerity to lay hooks in the beloved of a lady of a great house. Do not mistake my traveling with you, Nevena of Throdan, servant girl, or you may not even notice when I come for you.”

  Delara has pierced me through and through not only with her words, but also that dark, precise gaze which almost sings of malevolence. I can see her fingers twirling, something she often does before casting a spell. I risk a word more yet.

  “What do you mean, Lady Delara?”

  “I mean we mustn’t alert the whole of the kingdoms to what we intend to do and who we’re looking for. If it were known the stones of the Almighty were free, the lanes would run with fear and greed. We’ve enough people hunting us, I decline to add more to the list. I need no further impediments to my return to the Warming Caves. I must see my family again.”

  I have spent three weeks swimming through self-pity, but I have bemoaned Delara’s predicament much more. When the battle at Moerdra Castle was over and won, the three of us decided to leave the castle before the others returned from the Warming Caves. And so we left them without even saying good-bye. Delara left her mother, father, and little sister. I left the servants, Sister, and Ciraa, who I’m having a difficult time remembering is my cousin.

  “That is most wise,” says Eduard. “Imagine the obstacles should people discover that we bring with us the Winter Queen, on our way to Throdan. I believe most of them would seek just to touch you, be in your presence. They have waited for you, oftentimes with naught but an unwavering faith.”

  “Perhaps everyone would not be so pleased. Back in Moerdra Castle, when Craetyne was dying, she called me something. A false idol.”

  “Do not heed the words of a dying witch,” Eduard says. “She refers to something older than she knows.”

  “Another story of the past? I cannot suffer more history just now. Perhaps later. Right now the present calls us.”

  For the last hour we have watched a small village approaching on the horizon. At last we are upon it and as we pass through the small, wooden gate the people begin to stare. I do not know if they are staring at me or the dying child I have beside me. We walk slower, hands slightly curled and palms forward, ready to cast a spell at any moment. It is only now that I realize these things are not people, or at least not entirely. They have the build of humans, but they are more muscular and brown-skinned. Their faces are strange; it seems as if they have the heads of eagles, but the feathers are also brown so that one doesn’t notice at first. Though they stare, dumbfounded, I can see and feel th
at this is a majestic race. One of them approaches.

  “Welcome to Heurnaest,” it says, bowing a slow, deep bow of great deference. “I am Rhon. If you’ll bring the boy this way, we will try to help him, your Grace.”

  “She is no Queen,” Delara hisses beside me.

  The people instantly turn to her and their gazes become glares. I move closer to Delara, afraid they might attack her out of consideration for me, but she shuns me.

  “And who might you be?” Rhon says, turning back around.

  “I am Lady Delara of House Eaynfall, eldest daughter of the Lord Jacob and Lady Katrina, and heir to Moerdra Castle in the land of Dao.”

  I do not know if I have ever seen her so proud, so strong, so unassailable. She has drawn herself up and faced Rhon squarely. She has always been adventurous and bold, but I never knew she had such courage. Rhon watches her carefully and I see his hands move ever so slightly by his side. Only they’re not hands as I have: stretching out from the palm are digit-like lines of flesh that could function as fingers, but those lines end in talons that must be at least six inches long. I wait, hands at the ready.

  “Sir, this boy needs help,” Eduard says, his voice surprising us all. “He has touched the skin of a great evil.”

  Rhon looks to Eduard and then back to Delara. He bows to her.

  “Come,” he says. He leads us away.

  The village is rather large. It seems primitive at a first glance, but I see glimpses of complex machinery about the place and strange noises and clinking from all around. As we walk I watch the people and I see what I saw when we first walked in: fear. I do not wonder why, for I myself would be greatly afeared if I had lived so close to such a mighty display as the destruction of mountains. This people, terrified though they may be, seem to have some knowledge and expectance of me. Or at least who I’m supposed to be. One look at my white hair and fair skin, and they stop in their tracks. And, without fail, once the shock has worn off, they bow. Rhon leads us into a red hut and directs me to place the boy on a raised bed of straw. No sooner have I laid him down than another of this people enters. Behind him I see what looks like the entire village gathering at the door. The newcomer turns to them.

  “Fly, you fools! The Winter Queen has not come for your ogling! Should she wish anything of you, you’ll know! Away!”

  And with that he gives a most fierce screech, as melodious as it is high-pitched and terrifying. The doorway clears. He turns to me and bows.

  “My Queen. You are long awaited. I am Floron.”

  “You are most kind,” I say, curtseying to him, which seems to scare him a bit. “I would be remiss if I did not tell you that you are also in the presence of a lady from the land of Dao.”

  “My lady,” he says, bowing to Delara.

  She glares at me, but I turn. We must see to the boy now. Floron walks to his bedside.

  “What has befallen him?” he asks.

  “He has touched the Empress,” Eduard responds. “There is nothing to be done for his life, but perhaps you might supply a balm or concoction to ease his pain.”

  “Almighty, bless us! It is a horror beyond words to see a child die. This breaks my heart. I should be most happy to ease him.”

  Floron moves to a table in the corner and searches until he returns with a small pink vile. With my magic I open the boy’s mouth and Floron pours the entire vile in. Some moments pass, but finally the boy begins to settle. It is a sad thing to watch, knowing we have only eased his passing.

  “I thank you for this service,” I say.

  “This honor is mine, my Queen.”

  “Your Grace,” says Rhon. “If you’ll sit with me, I would like the pleasure of introducing this place and its people. Perhaps it will provide a distraction for us all.”

  Eduard and I take seats before Rhon. Floron stands to his left, near the boy. Delara stands somewhere behind us, undoubtedly glowering at the back of my head. I almost refuse Eduard’s touch, knowing Delara will see it, but I cannot pull away from that perfect touch as his skin grazes mine and he takes my hand. I look at him, look into those beautiful, changing eyes, and I could not deny him anything, just as he wouldn’t deny me. This is love. I want Delara’s forgiveness - I need it like I need air - but Eduard is also here. The circumstances do not favor both at once.

  “We must certainly seem a strange people to you, my Queen, but I assure you we are not so very different from the race of men. We are called Aiglon, named for the mighty birds that once guarded the plains of this land of Dolknock, ages before the mountains and the war. The Aiglon were great birds with a wingspan of nearly half a mile and beaks that could break even the strongest steel. And though they were peaceful creatures, they waged war like none other when roused to action. And so it was when the Almighty called them to war. Away and far and wide they flew, the terror of opposing armies everywhere. Indeed, they were much to thank for the side of good in that fight. And then came the final night of battle.”

  As Rhon continues the story, I am suddenly taken by one of my feelings. It has been quite some time since the last one, but I will never forget the sensation, like a great warm breath flowing down my chest. And then the fire just outside the door goes out and all that is left is frost creeping over the charred logs. Since it is outside, I don’t think anyone has noticed. I compose myself and return my attention to the story, but I am absolutely certain that there is another sorcerer or sorceress in Heurnaest.

  “And so the Aiglon wrought destruction over the enemy, swooping down to lift and smash the supply carts and even the largest giants and dragons. But a truly evil man, Lord Nethlamas, was given a terrible power and with it he killed all but one of the Aiglon.

  “The last Aiglon was Dregathaleon, swiftest of wing and keenest of mind. When the war was done, Dregathaleon could not renew his race since there was no female left. In place of his own true race, Dregathaleon sacrificed himself and asked the Queen to give his blood to a man and woman worthy and willing to ensure the blood of that mighty winged race did not perish from the lands. And so we were born of Dregathaleon, Philip, and Ariel. We must seem a strange race to you, but we are ever loyal to our Queen, who placed us as guard to the mountains once the Almighty raised them from the plains.

  “This, of course, was before the first High King ordered the razing of the twenty kingdoms, including the Winterlands and our Queen.”

  “You mean to say your allegiance was to the last Queen of the people of the Winterlands?” I ask, shocked. “This is why you bow to me?”

  “Most assuredly, my Queen,” says Floron. “Many things have been lost to time and the razing of the Winterlands was in the last age of the world, but we have ever been friends of that fallen kingdom.”

  “But how could the High King order those people killed?” I ask.

  “You must understand, Your Grace, that those were different times, brutal times,” Rhon continues. “A hundred years of bitter war in the sky and the earth. King Aavon was born into a life of fighting and death. When he ordered that great destruction, the kingdoms he erased were evil and worthy to be laid low. All except your homeland. The people of the Winterlands, including the Queen, were tricked by a spy sent from one of the warriors who rebelled in Heaven. No one knows the traitor’s name or origin, or which of the warriors sent him, but his heart was black indeed to have dealt so cruelly with so kind a people.”

  “Yes, I have shown her images from the past,” says Eduard. “I have given her a glimpse of the life of her people. It was difficult, but I found the strength to access the Orwirl.”

  “The Orwirl?” I echo, confused.

  “Yes,” he continues. “The Orwirl is a pool that lies between the souls of Heaven and the minds of the living in our lands. When a person possessed of magic dies, their memories become part of the Orwirl and can be accessed by any living person of magical ability who has the power and training. It was the last Queen’s memory that I drew from.”

  I rise to leave. Once outside, I w
alk until I reach trees and then I catch myself against one. I look behind me to make sure Eduard is smart enough to have understood my meaning. He is. However, I do see Rhon approaching.

  “Is there anything I can do for you, Your Grace?”

  “Yes. Do not keep secrets from me. I have spent my entire life convincing myself that I was satisfied with my lot. I have had many, many happy days, but I never thought I would be free or that I would know what to do with myself out in the world. But now that I am free, what I want more than anything is to discover exactly who and what I am. Please, help me.”

  “I can tell you what I know, my Queen, and that is little. I can tell you that we stay in this place only because it was once the home of the birds we descend from and because the Queen decreed it would be ours until the fading of the lands. Heurnaest is traditionally pronounced “Her Nest” because the Queen loved us so much. I can tell you that I’ve never seen anything so utterly terrifying as the destruction of those mountains. It was as if a wall of energy, of tremendous magic hit the mountains all at once and blew them away. Rock and crag and bodies exploded in the air. The air choked us with dust. We fled far to escape it. The mountains were knocked into the air as high and far as we could see. It was days before we could even see well enough to return. We were able to clear this village, but I know you’ve seen the destruction for yourself.

  “What I can’t tell you is how you’ve come to be here. I look at you and nothing is clearer than that you are of the people of the Winterlands. You are the Winter Queen, or at least you’re meant to be. But until you came through our gates, we believed your people totally extinct. There have been whispers that some survived, but there are always whispers of things. I think our hearts were truly lifted to see your line restored in you.”

  “I thank you for that. How is it that your gates are open in a time such as this?”

  “My Queen, we are a strong people. Not as large as our predecessors, but we still have their keen instincts and flight. But we are no match for anything that can destroy mountains. What would a barred gate accomplish?”