No.
Was I truly going to be beaten by Sarafine? I’d spent all my life trying to best her, and I was going to give in now?
Sarafine was a snake, and always had been. Selfish and ready to stab anybody in the back when they turned, so long as somebody else offered a better price.
I was better than her. Better than that.
Maybe she had the blessing of Nalcai behind her. I wasn’t going to lie here and give in because of that.
I dug my fingers into the snow, though I couldn’t feel the cold any longer, and hoisted myself onto my hands and knees. Eyes closed, I clawed into that swirling dark in my chest, the writhing power. My magic, the intangible thing linking me to every breathing, pulsing, waiting piece of the earth. The earth was dead here, but there were pieces I could reach if I stretched.
My arms trembled. My chest felt ready to collapse. No incantations this time, not when my throat was in ribbons, but I threw my intent into the shaky fragment of power I scavenged. Every ounce of steel and iron in me screamed.
All at once, the storm died. The howling wind vanished. The snow and ice settled. The forest was silent, the silence of absolute nothingness, a kind of silence that could be felt in every vein and bone, that felt ready to crush the world. A silence of waiting.
No, not waiting. Gathering.
One second. Two. Three.
Something erupted. The world seared such a bright white I dropped again, ducking my face into the snow and protecting my head with both arms. There was no sound, and yet something resonant and piercing made my ears ring.
Maybe I was dead. Maybe it had been the killing blow.
Haltingly, it faded, and I pried open my eyes, lashes frosted together. The towering gray trees were sideways. The air returned to me, the biting cold of winter but nothing more, and I gulped it down, the one movement I could do. My entire body was frozen solid, but after what might have been minutes, maybe an hour, I dragged myself forward by one arm, every muscle screaming and aching.
I moved toward the little pool of shadow in the snow near the base of a tree. Inching my way, wincing and cursing and panting, I reached Katherine, sprawled in the snow. Her dress and cloak were torn at the edges and dusted in white, making them a glittering, dreamlike silver. Her skin was as pale as the snow, stiff and ice-cold. Her dark eyes were vacant and staring. Blood splattered around her, freezing in jeweled droplets halfway down her dress. Three icicles pierced her, two in her stomach and one in her chest. Crimson veins stained their glassy surfaces.
I didn’t know if this had been my magic or her own. My throat closed as I dragged myself to my feet and staggered to where I’d left my horse, spooked into the distance and in need of reassurance.
Katherine had been a puppet. She shouldn’t have died for it, but Sarafine wouldn’t have allowed her to live anyway. I wanted to leave it at that and not have guilt twist into my chest.
Mother wanted me dead, as Katherine was dead now. One would-be assassin had been felled, and I was still standing, if shakily. Even if Sarafine would try again. Even if it had been at a price. Katherine had said she didn’t want me to die, and I hadn’t. I had won, and that was all I could think about. I had won.
I didn’t look at the body as I continued through the forest, but I whispered a prayer to the Lady for her soul.
Heart or no, I was a witch. A weapon. Cruel perfection. Whether I decided on something to run to, or I followed the skies, I would never cease to be what Mother had created of me.
Ten
Everything was numb. I couldn’t feel the cold anymore; there was only the nothingness, the empty stiffness in my fingers, my feet, my joints. I kept walking. One foot in front of the other. I had my bag and checked it again and again—always there, still full. If I found any form of shelter, I could start a fire, eat, rest. Chase the ice from my veins and recover. If I had to continue on foot, I could survive; my horse had vanished into the winter wood.
I didn’t know how long it would take Mother and Sarafine to realize Katherine was not returning, or who they would send next, but I knew more would come for me. If Katherine had found me, they would as well. I wasn’t certain I could survive another encounter, not as I was now.
I was unharmed except for twin scrapes on my palms and a few nicks from the more vicious ice shards, but the cold and wet was a danger on its own, and Sarafine’s storm had left a fresh blanket of snow and ice through the forest, plus stirred what had been there. Paths and footprints were gone. Snowdrifts were rearranged. I had no idea where I was, if I was travelling in the same direction. There was nothing around me but the endless frozen forest. Sarafine may as well have given me a death sentence. I couldn’t last more than a few days here.
A shallow but mostly dry hollow served me for the night, and I poured the last dredges of my exhausted magic into keeping a fire roaring. I barely restrained myself from devouring all the food I had with me. With the dark reaching fingers everywhere and the wolves howling far in the distance, I set my weak protections, wrapped myself in my frosted cloak, and slept.
Dawn found me a fraction more composed. At least feeling had been restored to my body and enough strength had come to let me think of a plan. I would keep travelling in the same direction, ration my supplies and use what I could from the forest, and eventually I would come across a village, a farmland, or a clear road. If needed, and if I could find the supplies, I could cast a seeking spell to be sure I was on the right track, but I knew the forest would break somewhere. I left the ashes of my fire in the mouth of the hollow and moved on, using my fingernails to claw marks in the trees so I couldn’t circle back on my path.
Sometime in the early afternoon, I stumbled across the bloody carcass of my horse, tack on, though torn and tugged out of place. Something had feasted on him, no doubt happy to have such a good meal in the middle of this barren wood. I said a quick prayer and renewed my pace, hoping it didn’t mean I was crossing over the way I’d come.
As the sun sank toward dusk, the shadows growing long and ominous, I searched for another shelter but found little. Nothing that would protect me from the threats lurking in the night, or from the elements that worsened with the dark. I had passed two too-small hollows and was debating retracing my steps for one of them when the tang of magic brushed against my throat and I stopped.
Not now. Not again, it was too soon.
It was weaker than before, and as I touched my fingertips to the charm around my wrist I felt it pulsing with power, caution. Not a witch, but a danger. I cast a glance around me.
Trees. Snow. Ice. Shadow. Nothing different.
The wind rippled. Something shifted in a far-off shadow.
My stomach sank to the ground.
I could hold my own against murderous witches, but wild predators might be the death of me.
How long had this one been stalking me? And how many packmates did it have helping it?
I watched the scrawny wolf as it watched me, but I listened more. Listened for a huff of breath or rustle of fur, the creak of a paw on ice-crusted snow. Nothing moved.
One. Two. Three. Four. Four other wolves in the shadows, by my estimate, ready to run me down and have another excellent meal. A harsh winter had beaten the fear of humans from them, and a lone, weak traveler was easy prey.
No weapons to fend them off with. My magic was recovering, but shaky, and my supplies to work with were sparse at best. Not to mention my time. I moved, every step pointed and certain, and continued my search as if they weren’t there at all. One sudden movement, one turn too quick, and they’d strike. All I could do was make sure they stayed behind, intent on stalking and planning, while I planned myself.
The protection charm was a small one, not enough to keep them away entirely, though it might make them hesitate to attack. That was better than nothing. If I dodged them long enough, I could work up some kind of spell to send them running, but it would be temporary at best. If they were desperate enough, hungry enough, they’d revisit,
and I couldn’t guarantee that I’d be out of the forest by then.
The possibilities ran through my mind, but all I could think about was the blinding white that had erupted between Katherine and I. The sheer, desperate force of willpower. I had no name for the magic—I’d never used it, not like that. I didn’t have my full magic, so I shouldn’t have been able to do more than what I was trained in. Not without giving my heart to Nalcai. But places that failed to worship the Lady or speak of her stories—places that knew nothing of Nalcai—had witches. Did they simply give their hearts to Nalcai by any other name?
Or was there more to it?
There seemed no time like the present to find out.
I stopped walking. The first shy oranges of sunset crept along the horizon, between the sleeping trees. I waited. And listened.
They came cautiously. Whispered steps across the ground, like ghosts. They didn’t come closer than three or four yards, shifting and watching, uneasy but unwilling to leave a possible meal. I spun in a circle, studying each. All were thin, fur frosted with the remnants of Sarafine’s ice storm. Bones jutted from their shoulders and hips, but dried blood crusted black around their lips, around teeth that shone like daggers in the sunset. Five pairs of jeweled eyes locked on me.
One stalked closer by a few steps. The metallic taste of the protection charm heightened, and the wolf growled in response.
My bones ached with the cold, but I sought that kernel of fire, something in my magic that would react to the danger. It whispered weakly but didn’t come. Maybe frozen solid like the rest of me.
A crack sounded behind me. One of the others had dared to creep closer. I spun to face it. I was surrounded: they could attack me from anywhere.
Lady, please. A tired, heavy shred of power dragged itself in me but faded before I could spin it into anything. Fear tightened my chest and shoved it down further.
No. I had faced trial after trial. Won again and again. A few mangy scraps of fur and bone would not end me. The anger at my own weakness set the magic kindling again, sluggish and aching, but I pushed at it. More. More.
I hadn’t had a chance to use it when the wolf nearest to me stepped back, ears flattening to its skull. Its eyes passed me, and if my spine was not frozen stiff, it would have chilled and straightened. A deep growl, too loud for the sickly wolves. It trembled through the air, the ground, and stopped my heart in the second before I turned around.
It was a bear. Hulking and towering, snow brushed across its rich brown coat and head lowered. I fixed my joints to keep myself from running and stared at the rock-solid muscle rippling and the gaping jaws open in an obvious warning. To me or the wolves I couldn’t tell, but I’d be caught in the middle either way.
I had an instant to wonder what in the Lady’s name a bear was doing out in the dead of winter, and then my logical mind gave way to pure terror. Despite the one wolf’s fear, the others stood their ground, snarling. The bear lunged forward once. I stumbled backward on instinct and landed in the snow, the impact jolting the shock from me. There was a flurry of movement as two of the wolves retreated, bolting far and fast. I didn’t think; I did the same, heaving myself to my feet and running.
I cursed my decision as soon as I heard the first paw fall behind me; two wolves, taking the opportunity to chase down their prey. It would take them no more than a few bounds to reach me.
The first swiped its teeth at my dress. I heard the skirt tear and thanked the Lady and her gods it had gotten a mouthful of fabric. Then my feet caught in the torn layers, and my hands hit the ice hard enough to bruise. Both wolves were on me, teeth stripping my arms as I raised them to shield my throat and face. I swallowed a scream.
A yowl pierced the air, but my vision was blocked by snow and dazed stars. I swung at the wolves, beating my hands against noses. Teeth tore into my left hand, pulling a yelped curse from my throat. Snapping jaws and snarls overwhelmed me. Claws caught in my hair. Every inch of my body screamed, my heart thundered in my veins. The air was too cold, too sharp.
Magic. That fire I’d stirred, vanished with the wind now, but I had to find it again. I couldn’t feel the pulse of the sleeping earth, the power offering itself to me. Panic closed my throat and froze my fingers.
The rumbling in the ground told me the bear had caught up, and the last wisps of hope I clung to swept away. Tears pricked at my eyes.
No.
I rolled over, balling my uninjured hand into a fist and driving it into the nearest wolf’s nose. It snarled and snapped, but I was already dragging myself to my knees. Burying my hands in the snow to the ground frozen solid beneath. The dead grass and undergrowth. The sun was fading, the night turning the world into looming, writhing shadows.
Something snatched at my ankle. I bit on the inside of my cheek and dug my fingers into the earth, searching for the pulse of magic below.
“Sleeping earth, awake and feast,
Drive away these mighty beasts!”
I choked out the spell, spitting blood to the ground with every word, and ducked my head against the light that flared. Bright enough to chase away the night as it fell, roaring and crackling like fire, so loud it drowned out the yelps and growls and pounding footsteps. The taste of magic changed to the taste of ash.
“What the hell?”
I yanked my head to the sound of another voice, but I didn’t have time to blink past the magic storm to see who was there when a hand closed around my arm and hauled me to my feet. Then we were stumbling through the storm, blind, gasping for breath. I clung to the hand that found mine, tripping every step but still going. One foot in front of the other.
The storm faded, but it left behind a dark so pressing I couldn’t see any easier. I ran through it, like running through an abyss, branches snatching at my cloak and dress and hair, freezing blood dripping, and the heat of that hand the one signal I was alive. By the time my eyes adjusted I was lost, with no idea how far we’d come or in what direction. I could make out a towering form in front of me, and blinked until it became a man, long hair flying as we ran and blood spreading over one shoulder.
“Wolf!” Somebody to my other side shouted—another male voice, the same as before. I twisted to look but saw a dark cloak bolting out of the way. “Rayick, wolf!”
Rayick, if that was the man who had helped me, dropped my hand and whirled in the fluid, practiced motion of a fighter, drawing a knife from his belt. I staggered to a stop, leaning against a tree, gulping lung-fulls of icy air, and watched as a slip of shadow darted from the trees toward Rayick, snarling. Starlight caught on singed fur red with fresh blood, and eyes shot with bloodlust. It snapped, but that was all the time it had. Rayick drove the knife into its throat as it lunged, and then there was a simple whine as it stumbled to the ground.
Rayick withdrew, flicking blood from the blade, and the world stilled. My pounding heart was all I could hear as the two men looked to one another, and then to me, and my gaze bounced between them.
Rayick might have been thirty, though in the dark it was hard to pinpoint. He was no stranger to a fight; the ease with which he moved and his broad, muscled build, I could easily see him as a guard or knight, if not for his worn and dirty clothes. His square jaw was dotted with dark stubble, his hair falling past his shoulders, halfway tied out of his face. He watched me not as if he was watching a threat, but as if waiting for me to bolt from fear. Cautious but gentle.
His companion was young, shorter and slighter in build, pale, thin planes and rumpled dark hair beneath his askew cloak, but eyes wide and startled. He shifted half a step when I looked to him and spoke first, murmuring, “Witch.”
There was no intent to attack on his face, just raw shock and fear, so I let it lie. I slid to sit down on the ground again, every wound shrieking for my attention and legs too unsteady . I inspected my hand, starlight flashing on wet blood dripping from my wrist and into the snow. I couldn’t see anything else, but it stung and burned.
“A hurt witch,” Rayick gru
mbled, stepping closer. I watched him as he crouched in front of me and held out a hand. “May I?”
I had a hundred decisions to make in that second, and I was painfully aware of all of them. How much to ask. How much to trust them. What part to play for them. The witch—use them, make them fear what I could do if they didn’t obey—or the girl—a damsel in distress, grateful to her saviors?
I chose the latter and extended my hand toward his. He took it, avoiding the bite, and tilted it to get a better view. “That’s not pretty,” he commented. “But we can take care of it. We’ll wrap it for now, and can clean and bandage it properly at home, if you’d like.”
“She’s a witch,” the other said again.
“That’s enough, Tam. She’s also alone, and almost got killed.” To me, he said more gently, “My name is Rayick. The prejudiced idiot is Tamsin. We have shelter, if you’d like to come with us. Or if you have somewhere we can take you…” He trailed off, waiting, and I caught my breath.
Shelter. I needed shelter, badly. And supplies. I was in no shape to defend myself against two men—possibly Tamsin; he had about as much muscle on him as a dry twig—but I wouldn’t survive wandering by myself. It was past dark, far below freezing. I could use what they would offer me and steal what they didn’t before I went on my way. I nodded and took Rayick’s offered hand.
“What are you doing out here alone?” he asked as he ripped a strip of cloth from his pack and wound it around my hand. I stood still, trembling as the cold seeped fully into me, and searched for an answer.
“Looking for something,” I settled on. He nodded. I caught the look Tamsin gave me, pure distrust, but ignored it.
“Well, you won’t find it out in the dark. Come on.” I followed him, keeping quiet at his side while Tamsin remained on my other, just far enough away. “Do you have a name, or should we stick with ‘witch’?” he asked after a short stretch of silence. “Because it’s not very flattering.”
The Ruin of Snow Page 8
