Winter Reign: Rise of the Winter Queen

by N. M. Howell

  The woman sits next to me and hugs me. My mother. This is strange and confusing. My whole life, twenty-eight winters, I’ve spent with little or no expectation of ever seeing my blood. I had grown accustomed to the thought of it, yet here I am, my mother’s arms about me, her tears falling on my neck and I want to scream. I want to rip her heart and throat from her body. I have lived my life the best I could; I have hurt and loved and risen and lost by myself. I have not needed her. What claims has she to me if she gave me up? Nearly thirty years have passed and never once did she come for me. She must be a strange mother indeed to forsake a child and yet blubber over it like this. I rise, somewhat dizzy, but I refuse to stay with her another moment.

  “Count yourself lucky, woman,” I say, glaring down at her. “For if I had my magic now it would surely change your fate.”

  To my surprise she does not seem hurt, as if she were expecting it all along. No matter. I turn and make for the door, but a group of men blocks the path. I reach for my sword, but it is gone. I turn. Thea has it. When she sees me eyeing it, she rises and walks to the other side of the small room. I move to her.

  “Give me my blade and let us depart. We have no time for this.”

  “These people can help us, Nevena. You have not even heard what they have to say.”

  “Look at them!” I yell. “Dirty, meager, and living in the ground like rats! What good are they and how could they possible aid me?”

  “Nevena, please,” Thea begs. “Just listen.”

  “The blade, girl, now! These people are not worthy of me!”

  “Perhaps it is you who is not worthy,” says the woman. “You forget, or perhaps you never knew, that your power is fueled by the lifeblood of the Braelynn, your people. I can see now that a great gift has been squandered on you.”

  I turn and approach her. She remains still, stoic, powerful in her simplicity.

  “You are no mother of mine,” I say.

  “Sit, daughter. You could slay everyone in this room without much effort, but you would lose a great store of knowledge. And there are nearly forty thousand of us in these tunnels. Without your magic you would never escape.”

  “You would talk to me like that?” I ask. “Your Queen?”

  “You are no Queen, child. Not yet. In this land you do not assume the throne simply by being born of royal blood. It must be earned. So, you see, I am the Winter Queen.”

  I sit, furious, embarrassed, and more hurt than I would ever admit aloud. Thea comes to sit beside me, though she leaves the sword at the wall. The woman stands before us.

  “I am Corinnalwyn, daughter of Armellwyn and Addilwyn, wife of Rhealwyn, mother of the Princess Maerolwyn, and reigning Winter Queen of the Braelynn people of the Winterlands. I was born here beneath the earth and forty-seven winters have I passed in this place. Young Thea has already told me what you and the world above know. I will tell you the truth.

  “Many ages ago, three stars fell to the earth and landed in the Winterlands. A party of scouts discovered that it was not stars, but Warriors. Three Warriors who had been cast out of Heaven. The king and Queen of the land offered them friendship. Though the Warriors chose to provide their own shelter, the Queen sent them food and drink every day and came herself several times to speak with them and offer aid. It was in that manner that she first saw Laoren, the one you know as the Empress. At that time Laoren’s heart was sick and broken. The Queen befriended her and the other Warriors as best she could, but they soon left to make their destiny in the sky. Yet the Queen never forgot them; she and the king vowed that should the Warriors ever return to earth, the Winterlands would swear them faith and allegiance.

  “During the War of Four Heavens, Traega—one of the rebel Warriors who fell to our land—sent an emissary. Lord Nethlamas. The Winter Queen had no magic in those days, but the women of our race have always been impossibly wise. She knew Nethlamas for what he was: a coward and a snake. She did not trust his word or foul promises, but she remembered the vow of her ancestors and swore allegiance to Traega. It was a hard decision, for the Braelynn had worshipped the Almighty for some time. But Traega herself came to meet the Queen and it was that day, as the Queen sat with the Warrior and learned her character and intentions, that our race turned from the Almighty for all time.

  “Some time during that dark life of the earth a Braelynn spy made her way into the Almighty’s good graces. She was clever and formidable. She feigned allegiance to him and begged mercy for her people. He would not grant her wish for leniency, but he did spare her and put her to work. Though she never told what horrid tasks he compelled her to do, she did learn much in her time there and she brought that knowledge back to us all. The Almighty had locked up a great power before the earth was born: his brother, whose name the Almighty erased from all memory. After he had no more use of his brother, the Almighty killed him. Worse still, he planned to kill all the Warriors of Heaven, for he feared they were all threats. One thing you must understand of him: under no circumstances will he share power. It is the thought he hates most in the world.

  “On the last night of the great war, the great King Aavon was locked in battle with a commander. The commander had been but a common man from Winterlands before the war, but had proven himself courageous and brilliant in battle. The Almighty reached down that night and gave King Aavon soufflumière. What the Almighty did not know was that when he touched King Aavon, the king still had a hand on the commander. So the commander also received magic. His name was Veorlwyn.

  “Before the great Razing of the kingdoms, Veorlwyn went home after the defeat. He showed the Queen what power he had found. As he had proven himself in that war and was then using his power to protect the kingdom, the Queen married him and he became king. They had a child and Veorlwyn gave his magic, every last drop, to the child. He used his remaining power to cast a spell ensuring the child’s power by linking it to its people. Little did he know that linking spells can only pass through mothers, thus the winter magic can only go through females born of the royal line. But the happiness would be short-lived.

  “It had been thirteen months since the end of war. Aavon had been crowned High King. In Heaven, the Almighty had finally realized that the spy had betrayed him. He knew nothing of her except that she had white hair. In those days there were more than one white-haired people in the land and he couldn’t risk his secrets escaping. So he came down in the night and spoke to Aavon in his dreams. When the High King woke, he ordered the twenty kingdoms where white-haired people lived to be destroyed. Were it not for a Braelynn who worked in the king’s court our people would never have gotten out in time. Our Queen lead thousands underground, but many thousands more died in the streets. Everyone was dead or hiding. Everything built by Braelynn hands was torn down and turned to dust. The Winter Queen was branded a false idol and the people of this land became a byword.

  “For a time our Queen remained strong, but as cold as the winter magic is, it draws its power from the sun. So here under ground, without that light, she became weaker and weaker. She could not even rely on the strength of her people, for they, too, were languishing in these tunnels. And so it went: generation after generation of our people grew thinner, their hair less bright and their ability less with each passing year. We dared not surface, for an edict of the highest order marks this people for death should we ever surface. Thea tells me your legend is spreading far and fast. It is only a matter of time before the current High King comes for you.

  “It was not until twenty-eight years ago that we mustered the courage to come above ground. I cannot tell you how the sun hurt my eyes and skin those first days. But within hours of being above ground we began to revive. Our hair brightened, our bones grew strong, and we had never felt fresher or more alive. And for the first time in my life I discovered my magic. Being born underground it would never grow great, but to have it at all was a joy. And I became pregnant with you. Sometime later, you were born, the first Braelynn born under the sun in this age of
the world. The people celebrated you and we named you for the last Queen to rule above ground.

  “But, of course, the High King found out. He sent an army here. We saw them coming. Some of us made it back into the tunnels, but most did not. Your father and I knew you must remain in the sun and so we made the greatest sacrifice. I used my magic to make myself invisible and then I found a small child who had hid herself away in her father’s caravan. I asked her if she would mind taking care of you until you were old enough to be a friend to her. The sweet child said yes. I knew from watching her father that he was a good man. He saw you, but could not slaughter a babe. Your hair was not yet white and he did not know you came from us. I used my magic to hide Jasslwyn’s hair and skin, then we sent her to watch over you.

  “You have an obligation to your people. Revenge and hatred and anger are not your birthrights. If you want to call yourself a Queen then you must act like one. Save us. Go to Gardenwall and speak with the High King. Obtain his pardon for us. Then find the tablet and bring us to the sun again.”

  It should come as no surprise that I sat there for some while, trying to comprehend the gravity of the wealth of information I had just been given. But already she is pulling me to my feet.

  “I wish you could stay and sit with me, daughter, but the longer you are in this land the weaker you will become. When the High King’s army attacked us after your birth, the king asked his royal sorcerer to place a spell on all this land, that the longer we remain here the weaker we are. You must leave this place while you still can. I have told Thea everything else you will need. I give you a kiss and my love.”

  She kissed both my cheeks and disappeared. The men follow her out.

  “What tablet?”

  “The one from your vision,” Thea says. “While you slept you repeated everything you saw. Your mother and her scholars interpreted them for us. The tablet carries a spell written by Queen Maerolwyn before she brought her people underground. It can restore your land to its former glory. But first, our escape. Draw on me.”

  “What?”

  “Draw your strength from me. Soon you will not have the power to do even that. You must do it now, Nevena.”

  “How?”

  “Take my hand and feed.”

  I take her hand and at first nothing happens. Then I begin to feel warm, then cold and the pain in my side and wrist ease some.

  “Now, Nevena.”

  I transport us, but my magic fails in the middle of the spell. We are in the earth, suffocating, surrounded on all sides by dark, packed soil. I try to move and for some moments I go nowhere, but I keep kicking, keep pulling until finally I’m moving. But there seems no end ahead and I am running out of breath. I am beginning to fade. I cannot breathe. My heart is racing, pounding in my chest. And then my hand breaks through. I claw and scratch until my arms are free and just before I lose consciousness my face feels the cool night air. I turn, looking for Thea. She is halfway out of the ground. She is breathing hard, but she smiles.

  After we’ve dug ourselves out, we struggle back to camp. It is has been now a full day and night since we left. When we reach camp again we go straight to the tent of Thea’s family. Katrina is there. She looks horrified to see us.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked in a frightened whisper.

  She pulls us inside and blows out the lantern.

  “You must leave now!”

  “Mother, what has happened?” Thea asks.

  “A raven came this morning bearing news from Golrend. The Aiglon have returned to that city and brought word of Nevena’s command. General Yunger has commanded her immediate expulsion from the army and her arrest. She is to be tried before the courts.”

  “On what charges?” I ask.

  “Endangerment of the army, the burning of Night’s Deep, killing an unarmed prisoner, and the deaths of the two Aiglon. Floron died from his wounds.”

  I bow my head.

  “This entire camp is prepared to hunt you, Nevena,” Katrina continues. “You must use your magic to escape.”

  “I have no magic. Not yet. And I am too weak to fight.”

  “Then follow me.”

  She leads from the back of the tent and through a quiet part of the camp. We hurry after her and finally reach the eastern border of the camp.

  “I pray you find the means to endure, Winer Queen,” Katrina says, hugging me. “And you, my girl,” she says, turning to Thea, “You must help her. I shall be always with you until we can hold each other again.”

  Mother and daughter embrace and then we disappear into the night.

  “Leave me in peace!”

  Horace throws himself back and forth across the room, hands on his head and screaming at the top of his voice. Something is wrong inside him, his head feels as if it is splitting in two. He smashes his head into the wall, desperate to stop the clawing, the whispering.

  “You cannot win! You cannot subvert me!”

  He is rolling on the floor, shifting from form to form without reason or pattern. Random spells break forth from him and destroy the room around him. It is Eduard. Eduard is still alive inside of him, fighting savagely and desperately to escape and regain control. The entire cottage shakes with the force of leaking magic and the two brothers battle for life and death. The body falls backward and lies still. Delara comes rushing up the stairs. She bends over the body. She has never liked this prince, even less so for parading in the body of him who she loved, but she understands he is part of her mistress’s plan. She shakes him.

  “Horace. Horace.”

  The eyes open and look up. She sees it instantly, but is not quick enough. Eduard cast a spell and she is blown up into the ceiling. She falls down, but catches herself in midair, cautious of the child.

  “Go back, Eduard. You have no place here.”

  “I am neither husband nor friend to you, traitor,” he says. “Let me go.”

  “Not on your life.”

  A fight ensues. Eduard is powerful, but his cohabitation with Horace has confused his instincts and his magic. Every other spell comes out a black star. He is very nearly hewn down several times by Delara’s black blade. He inundates the room and Delara is drowning, upside down in the swirling water. She disintegrates the back wall and the flood rushes out. She brings the floor to life and it sucks Eduard down to his waist. Still he casts at her, conjuring a flurry of bats. Yet with a wave of her hand she burns them out of the air and pins Eduard’s hands to the floor with foot long stakes. As Eduard screams, Laoren suddenly appears in the room.

  “Is the child harmed?” she asks. “What happened?”

  “I heard a commotion and when I arrived Eduard had awakened. I’ve subdued him.”

  Laoren turns to Eduard. She bends down and grins at his pain.

  “My, aren’t you tenacious,” she says. “But you fight a fight that has been over for millennia. Your cause is lost, Grandestor. I must warn you not to do this, for much as I value Horace I shall gladly kill you both if you attempt this again.”

  She rests a hand over his eyes. He begins to scream, louder and louder until it is so harrowing that even Delara turns away. And then his head falls and he is silent.

  “That will weaken him enough to allow Horace to regain control. I will have the Helkar carry him. You stay close to me, Delara. Our forces have arrived and it is time to begin. We have many miles to the Coast of Xalyen and then many leagues across the Sightless Sea.”

  And within the hour the party has left. Half of Laoren’s force from all over Targaross have gathered her to follow her across the sea, where they will combine with her vast armies there and launch their assault.

  Chapter 13

  It takes three days to reach the coast, but their ships are ready and waiting. Laoren and Delara board the largest ship, Horace, too, now that he’s in control of the body once more. It is a sight that is hard describe, as terrible as it is awesome. Fifty thousand ships set sail, each carrying one hundred men, women, and beasts. Five m
illion soldiers. The largest fleet to ever set sail on the earth.

  It is not long before they meet opposition. A fleet of thousands of good ships, carrying strong men, but not nearly enough. Laoren barely bothers to notice. She calls Delara to her side.

  “I let it fall to you,” she says. “Do we send them to their graves by magic or by cannon?”

  “We should conserve ourselves,” Delara says. “It will be a journey of some months across this sea and I expect we shall be forced to fight even as we reach the shore.”

  “So be it,” Laoren says, sending up a light from her palm to signal for the attack. “Isn’t this a sight? We’re so hated even the pirates oppose us.”

  The opposing fleet draws near, their various flags and banners waving boldly in the evening sky. Twilight breaks upon the heavens as the two armies cut the waves in haste for battle. The armies are so close now that Laoren’s men can hear the fearless and avaricious shouts of the pirates. Finally the ships are within range. The pirates launch the first ball and it crashes through the brow of an opposing vessel, killing a dozen men in its path. That first shot is quickly followed by a hundred more as the pirates, masters of the sea and battle upon it, rush their ships without a care for their own lives. Laoren’s men fight back, but they are taken by surprise. They have underestimated the pirates, who have built battering rams into the front of their ships, so that even as they break the lines of formation of Laoren’s fleet, they can still sink a ship by ramming it.

  The pirates cause tremendous destruction: thousands of pirate ships ramming and firing and crashing against the innumerable enemy. Pirates, for all their lawlessness and greed, live by an ancient code of sea-faring men that makes them braver and more honorable than even some law-abiding citizens. Even if they had not honor, they could well imagine a world ruled by a tyrant like Laoren, a world in which they were denied their freedom on the Sightless Sea, so named for its sheer size; one could sail for three months on that perfect body and see neither land nor bird. The pirates had had their council and chosen what they were certain would be death, rather than living by any rule but their own. And so it went that though they greatly upset Laoren’s fleet and brought her incredible losses, they were utterly wiped out.