by K. M. Shea
“I know, I know. We can’t go dragging Rakel into the enemy camp. It’s a good thing I brought a spyglass.” Phile patted a saddlebag.
“You own a spyglass?” Rakel asked, unable to recall seeing the Robber Maiden with such a costly tool before.
“No—I borrowed it from the Royal Library.”
Rakel scowled. “From the library? That means it is a national treasure. You cannot borrow national treasures to use for scouting missions.”
“Why not? It’s a spyglass. It was made to be used. If you’re not gonna use it, why bother having it?” Phile asked.
Rakel drew up her shoulders—fully intending to growl at the Robber Maiden—when Snorri offhandedly offered, “There’s the camp.”
The trees partially cleared, giving Rakel and her companions a branch-covered view of the Chosen camp. It was a sprawling ocean of tents and plumes of smoke set on packed snow. It glittered with weapons, armor, and leather horse tack, and buzzed with activities and noises. It was much larger than she expected.
However, it was also clear that Farrin had carefully selected the location. Snorri’s “hills” were more similar to cliffs, and to avoid the possibility of an avalanche—or of Rakel dropping an avalanche on them—the camp was set a fair distance away from them so the snow couldn’t wipe it out, but it was still close enough to allow the cliffs to guard their backs. (After all, no enemy—magical or mundane—could drop from sheer cliffs and survive.)
Snorri mumbled.
Phile slid off her horse. “Yes, you are right. We should set up our base here.”
Snorri unhitched the sleigh ponies and led them away.
“You understood him?” Rakel asked.
“Of course not. I have no idea what he said; it just seemed to be the most likely subject for him to bring up.”
Rakel chuckled and helped the Robber Maiden remove saddlebags from her horse.
The following day, Phile held the nationally treasured spyglass to her eye and squinted. “Yep, I’m certain that big black tent they’re pitching must be for Tenebris.”
Rakel, crouched behind a drift and stirred snow with a fingertip. “It could be for Farrin.”
Phile adjusted the spyglass. “Nah, he doesn’t give a King’s toe about that sort of thing. His quarters are always simplistic—tidy but empty.”
“How can you know this for certain? You’ve only been in his quarters once, in Glowma.”
“Riiight. Just once,” Phile said.
“You’ve gotten that close in your scouting trips?” Rakel’s voice hitched with shock.
“Snorri did it too!” Phile removed her eye from the spyglass long enough to point an accusing finger at her fellow scout.
“I have magic,” Snorri said. He ghosted forward through the undergrowth that sheltered him, as if it grew around him. He raised the spyglass to his eye—drawing a squawk from Phile when she realized he had swiped it from her.
Rakel tried to restore order to her wild, snow-white hair, weaving it into a braid as she watched the scouts. “I assume you two will leave me here tonight and try to venture into the camp then?”
Phile eased her way through the undergrowth so she could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Snorri and reach for the spyglass—which he held out of her reach. “What tipped you off?”
“The presence of a black tent is hardly solid evidence that Farrin is indeed expecting Tenebris Malus to arrive soon.”
“It’s a big black tent. Snorri, you have to share. I’m the one who smuggled the spyglass out here.”
Snorri ignored her and popped out of the undergrowth so he was standing on the edge of the hill’s cliff-like drop off.
Rakel yanked on her hair—tightening the braid—and tied it off. “Perhaps it is unwise to stand so close to the edge of the cliff.”
“We’re too far away. They won’t see us,” Phile said—though she still lurked in the underbrush.
“I was not thinking of the Chosen, but the snow. It’s a heavy fall this year, and I can see evidence of avalanches and landslides carving down the cliff-side. There’s piles of snow and rock at the base.”
“Good call. You should listen to her, Snorri, and give me back the spyglass.”
Snorri collapsed the spyglass and turned around—presumably to answer Phile—when the snow crunched oddly under his feet.
“Snorri!” Rakel shouted.
The snow and rock beneath his feet gave out beneath him and careened down the cliff, spattering snow and cracking rock. Snorri, unable to regain his balance fast enough to move, fell with it.
He hit the side of the cliff with a painful crack and scrabbled one-handedly for a handhold. Rock, dirt, and snow kept scraping away, and Snorri almost tumbled from reach.
Phile dove out of the underbrush and threw herself to her belly, grabbing Snorri’s groping hand. Her face twisted in a grimace, and she sweat with exertion. Snorri wedged his feet into the crag, but the snow and ground crackled ominously beneath Phile.
Rakel didn’t hesitate. She reached out with her magic and solidified the snow—stabilizing Phile’s position—then built a small ice platform beneath Snorri.
“Drop him,” Rakel said.
Snorri let go, exhaling deeply when the ice beneath him held.
Rakel built ice stairs for him to climb, and Phile rolled away from the edge.
“It’s been fun, but I guess that is our cue to leave, eh? Oskar did say not to use your magic or they would sense you.” Phile ran for the saddlebags and began throwing their few supplies into them, then buckled them haphazardly to her horse.
“There was no other choice.” Rakel extended her hand to Snorri to help him clear the last step.
Instead of grasping her hand, he set the spyglass in it. Rakel gaped at it. “You didn’t drop it?”
Snorri shook his head and dusted snow and grit from his clothes. “It is a national treasure.”
That must be why he didn’t grab the cliff securely. He wouldn’t let it go. Rakel both admired his actions and wanted to shake him. “Your life is more important than an object, Snorri.”
“Phile and you, Princess, caught me,” Snorri said. He bowed to Rakel then hurried to the ponies, throwing their harnesses on them as Phile dragged the lightweight sleigh out from its shelter among scraggily bushes.
Rakel peered over the side of the cliff and shattered the ice platform and stairs, making broken ice fall like raindrops.
Phile helped Snorri tack the second pony. “Let’s go, Snow Queen. We’ve got to blaze a trail before that beau of yours figures out where we are.”
“Even Farrin Graydim will require time to climb this hill. The cliffs will prevent him from using his magic to come straight up,” Snorri said.
“Normally I would take a moment to mark this momentous occasion—you spoke two full sentences, Snorri, well done! However, as we are in what Handsome Halvor would call a necessary retreat, I will save the celebration for later. Let’s go, go, go! Wipe the camp clean, Little Wolf!”
“But my magic—”
“They already know you’re here after saving us. Go!”
Phile threw herself on her horse—which pranced and shied when Rakel dragged drifts down from the crest of the hill and buried all evidence of their camp under a knee-high blanket of snow.
She slipped into the carriage, and Snorri cracked the reins, making the ponies set off at a brisk trot.
“Not bad at all. We might not have solid evidence of Tenebris’s impending arrival, but at least we’ll escape with our hides intact. With luck, we won’t even have to tell Handsome Halvor and Oggle-worthy Oskar why we packed up camp so quickly and came back home.”
The horse and ponies huffed as they glided across the snow crust.
“You will, however, have to tell them you brought a priceless national treasure on a scouting trip,” Rakel said.
Phile ducked a branch. “Thank you for ruining the mood, Little Wolf. What’s so special about that spyglass anyway?”
“Hist
ory,” Snorri said.
“History? I suppose I can respect that.”
Rakel eyed her. “That is surprisingly decent of you.”
Phile grinned. “Of course. One day, we’ll be a part of history too, Little Wolf.”
Rakel shook her head. “I find it unlikely any will care that Verglas—an isolated snow country—kept its independence against the Chosen.”
“You never know, Little Wolf,” Phile said with a sly grin. “Worlds can be changed by the smallest things.”
The trees cleared, and they were forced to stop talking as Phile and Snorri urged their equines to go faster.
Farrin Graydim looked up from the report he was reading in his tent. …Rakel? There, he felt it again. The minty, cool caress of her unmistakable magic. He arose from his desk and left his tent, following the beckoning of her magic, until he was at the edge of camp and staring at the harsh, unforgiving gray and white of the snow-covered cliff-like hills that guarded his regiment’s flank.
He tapped his speed magic and ran across the open field, stopping at the base of the hill. There was freshly fallen snow and rock, but the pull of Rakel’s magic came from higher up.
He contemplated her presence and the possibilities it presented. Based on the hurried flavor to it, I don’t believe they are attacking. He considered trekking around to the sloping side of the hill. Unnecessary, he decided when he felt her magic fade as she fled. She is retreating.
“Sir?” Bunny—out on patrol—popped out of a bush in her red fox body. “You must have felt her as well. Your orders?”
Farrin stood on a knife’s edge of indecision. He should have her tracked and captured if possible. But Tenebris was days away from arriving, and Farrin knew without a shadow of a doubt that when he came, what little peace and joy Rakel possessed would be snatched from her.
“Investigate the hill,” Farrin said. “They are already gone—her magic faded too quickly for them to be here, still—but see if you can uncover who was with Her Highness and what they were after.”
“You don’t want me to track them?”
Farrin hesitated. “No.”
“Yessir!” Bunny, untroubled by the lameness of his orders, bounded away, her red tail flashing against the white snow.
Farrin started the walk back to camp. It took a great deal of effort to suffocate his nagging desire to chase after Rakel, just so he could see her again.
Tenebris will soon arrive, Farrin grimly reminded himself. I must remain focused. Still, for the greater part of the day, snow-white hair and glacier-blue eyes lingered in his thoughts.
The End
Arrivals
This short is actually the first scene of Snow Queen: Sacrifice, but instead of being told from Farrin’s point-of-view, it is told from Tenebris Malus’s. Tenebris was an interesting character to write because of his cruelty and the inner workings of his mind, but readers don’t get a chance to see the way he thinks because Farrin is blind to much of it, and Rakel—who probably has the best handle of his character—sees him rarely and speaks with him even less. I hope this scene—and the revealing of Tenebris’s price—interest you and provide a new scope to see the Chosen through.
Tenebris Malus squinted when he and his retinue emerged from the forest and rode into the snow-covered field that edged around the Fighting First’s camp. The regiment was lined up in orderly rows, the officers arranged pretty-like.
As usual, the Runt has impeccable control over his troops. It was one of the many reasons why Farrin Graydim was so valuable. Out of all of Tenebris’s colonels, Farrin was undoubtedly the only one who could have made the rank in a real army, and he was the only one who could have successfully spearheaded the Chosen’s sweep north.
But he didn’t. I’ll have to see why that was…
Farrin shouted something, and the Fighting First rippled as the soldiers saluted.
Tenebris chuckled. “He is a showy one.” In no time at all, Tenebris and his men reached the edge of the Fighting First’s forces. Tenebris’s head rang with pain as he dismounted from his horse and tried to settle his helm in a more comfortable position.
“Tenebris!” Sunnira—one of Tenebris’s earliest friends—broke ranks and ran up to him, throwing her arms around him.
With ease of practice, he laughed and kept his body relaxed, even though Sunnira’s slight weight made him close to toppling over. He had to be especially careful with her. Sunnira was a healer—some of the most dangerous magic users for Tenebris to encounter. It was one of the reasons why he had sent Sunnira—the best healer in the army—north with the Runt. “You look well, Sunnira. I hope you have been taking care of my army.”
“Of course,” she said.
Tenebris patted her hands and passed off the reins of his horse to a soldier. He stretched his neck and strolled towards Farrin Graydim.
Farrin held his salute. “Sir.”
“At ease, Farrin,” Tenebris said. He slapped Farrin on the shoulder and smiled genuinely. Working with Farrin was as close to relaxing as Tenebris could come. He’s the only colonel who is too stupidly loyal to stab me in the back.
“Thank you, sir.” Farrin motioned for his regiment to drop the salute. They complied.
Yes, the perfect soldier he is. “Still as well organized as ever—and a sight for sore eyes. Kavon lets his mercenary troops run wild like savages.” Tenebris nodded—making the pain in his head increase twofold. “I cannot fault him. Those without magic are little more than animals—though it is good to see you have broken yours into submission.”
Farrin straightened his shoulders. “It is our honor to have you with us.”
“I’m sure.” Tenebris shielded his eyes from the brilliant sun. “It has been too long since I’ve ridden with you and the Fighting First. I look forward to speaking with you—and Sunnira.” Knowing it was expected of him, Tenebris smiled at her.
Sunnira cocked her head. “What took you so long to come?”
Tenebris held genuine affection for Sunnira, but as one of his earliest friends, she had a pesky habit of asking questions others wouldn’t dare utter. I should have trained that habit out of her when I first met her. The Runt is almost as taken with me, and he never makes irritating inquires.
“Varmints started stirring in the south just when I thought it was time to come north.” He made a show of sighing. “I stayed to help Grimick stamp them out, but they’re worse than sewer rats.”
“Varmints?” Farrin asked.
“Some farmers and commoners playing rebel. Though they should be easy to crush, they’ve burned two outposts and reclaimed several villages—all in the name of their beloved Snow Queen.” Tenebris frowned. “We razed a few villages, but they still prowl around in the hills. In the end, I decided it would be quicker to kill their ‘hero’ than to keep hunting them down individually.”
“I see,” Farrin said. “Shall I take you to your quarters, sir?”
“Yes, thanks, Runt.” Tenebris walked shoulder-to-shoulder with Farrin—Sunnira still held his arm, and three of Farrin’s magic user officers fell in line behind them.
“Released,” Farrin shouted.
The foot soldiers and the rest of the magic users broke out of formation, like a bunch of ants searching for food.
Watching the swirl of activity, Tenebris kept his voice relaxed and unbothered. “I must say, Runt, I am upset. It isn’t like you to leave an enemy alive.”
“I regret that I have disappointed you.”
Yes, he’s the perfect guard dog—doesn’t get angry, doesn’t make excuses, just accepts his failure. Maybe I should try and get more Sarthe-trained gladiators after Verglas has fallen. If I can get more men like him, it would be worth the hassle. Tenebris slapped Farrin’s shoulder again. “Don’t take it to heart. You haven’t ever failed me before. You were bound to do so eventually—though I must admit, I didn’t think your lesson of humility would come from a thin-skinned, worthless princess.”
“With all due respect, sir,
no one who has met Princess Rakel would call her thin-skinned or useless,” Farrin said.
Interesting… “We’ll see. In the meantime, I’ve changed my mind about the Verglas citizens.”
Farrin’s posture didn’t shift, but Tenebris noticed the slightest lift of his brows. “Oh?”
“Yes,” Tenebris said. “We’ll have to cull most of them.”
“Cull?” a boyish voice asked. Tenebris glanced back at the three officers trailing them. A young man—barely more than a boy, swallowed hard. “I-I beg your pardon, sir.”
He fears me? Good. Loyalty to the Runt and fear of me will keep him in line. Inspiring loyalty was another one of Farrin’s uses. His officers were so loyal he had them eating out of his palm, so Tenebris was careful to assign him all the bleeding-heart types who—unlike stupidly-loyal Farrin—might question Tenebris’s actions. In turn, the officers were stupidly-loyal to Farrin. If I weren’t certain of his loyalty, it could be dangerous, but Farrin would never betray me.
“No harm, boy,” Tenebris said. “I meant we’ll have to kill ’em. They’re too stubborn and too prone to hope. They’ll make lousy slaves unless we limit their numbers.”
Farrin stopped outside a large black tent. “Do you really think it is necessary to found our country with such slaughter?”
“Necessary? No. But it will make it easier.” Tenebris swatted his free hand through the air. “And with the way this war has carried on, we need all the help we can get. I planned for us to hold the entire country by now. As my officers were unable to achieve that, we’ll have to cut corners where we can.”
Farrin stared at him—an unusual gesture. Normally Farrin accepted orders without so much as blinking. Tenebris knew Farrin didn’t much care for slaughter, so this would be a punishment for the colonel. He arched an eyebrow and gave Farrin a toothy smile. “Next time, don’t fail me.”
“Farrin did his best,” Sunnira said. “The problem is Princess Rakel. She was much stronger than any of us could have predicted.”
Ahh yes, the princess. Tenebris shrugged. “That’s an easy fix. Once she’s killed, the resistance will run out of traction.”
