The Elf

by Max Dune

  By dusk, I start searching for shelter. It won’t be long before temperatures drop to unbearable levels. Luckily, I find a cave-like opening nestled between some granite boulders. The space inside is about the size of my old tent. I form several snow blocks, crawl inside, and stack them at the entrance, creating a makeshift door, leaving an opening at the top for ventilation. Then I build a friction fire with the sticks and leaves I collected. The heat feels wonderful on my numb fingers. Once they’re warm, I scoop up some snow and hold it close the fire. It quickly melts in my hands, affording me a much-needed drink. The water satisfies my thirst but also intensifies the hunger gnawing at my insides.

  I lean back against the damp wall and groan. What am I going to do about food? Hunting simply isn’t possible. I’ve yet to see any game since embarking on my journey. Unless I count the wolves, which I don’t. I let out a despondent sigh. I’m so...freaking...hungry. Enough that I begin to actually start wondering what wolf meat tastes like. In the next belly-grumbling second, I consider returning to the lake to find out. I snort, shaking my head. No. I can’t do that. I’d lose a day’s travel, and what guarantee do I have that the alpha’s body will still be there anyway? After all, I’m not the only hungry creature out here.

  While reasoning with myself, I feel something soft brushing against my shoulder blade. I turn around and touch the wall. It’s covered with lichen. The patch is large, and it’s food. “Food!” I recall learning about its nutritional value in my survival class. The leafy, gray fungi is supposed to be antiseptic and analgesic. I rip off a piece and eat it greedily. The bitter, acidic taste almost makes me gag, but I swallow it anyway and shove more in my mouth. Taste is inconsequential; energy isn’t.

  I don’t stop until I’ve cleaned the entire wall. Then I lie down and truly consider my current plight. I am alone in the middle of a frozen wasteland, without supplies or food. Whatever small hope I had for being rescued has been thrown out the window. Oleg won’t risk his men’s lives for me. He’s a pragmatist. The threat of Frost still looms over the elves. As for Santa, he cannot leave the village until Christmas is over. There are far too many responsibilities he must tend to, and Christmas comes but once a year, his one annual shot to get it right. Too many children count on him. Even if he wants to come search for me, he can’t put his life or his duties at risk now. And certainly not for a impulsive idiot like me, I think morosely.

  Thoughts of Santa conjure up thoughts of sleighs and reindeer. I picture Blitzen’s last moments again, the way he looked at me with such trust, fully expecting me to save him. My eyes fill with tears. If I die out here, perhaps I’ll get what I deserve.

  * * *

  I awake the next morning to overwhelming waves of nausea. My body temperature also feels higher than normal, I’m quick to note. Instantly, I suspect the lichen, but I haven’t enough medical knowledge to know for sure. It might just be a cold. I force myself to get up, build another fire, and melt more snow. Water is the only treatment I have available at the moment. I drink a couple of liters, hoping to flush out the responsible toxins and bacteria from my system. Then I’m on my way.

  The skies are gray today. A snowstorm seems inevitable. One hour into the trek, my fears are confirmed as big, soft flakes begin swirling around me. Just what I need. More tedious snow to trudge through. A bitterly cold wind also blasts against my back, knocking me off balance time and time and again. My increasing nausea doesn’t help matters. I fight for control, but my body wins the battle. My stomach contracts violently, and I crouch down to expel my guts. The vomit looks like clam chowder. I survey the mess with watery eyes, my throat burning from my stomach acids, then heave again.

  After a few minutes, my stomach begins to settle. Whatever harmful agents were inside me are gone, so I continue on my journey. By midafternoon, however, my fatigue forces me to stop. Might as well take advantage of my break and try to hunt, so I hide amidst thick shrubs and wait for any unsuspecting animals to walk by. And what is my patience rewarded with? Nada. Surprise, surprise. I don’t know how long I sit there before sleep takes over. It comes unsuspectingly and envelopes my senses.

  Sometime later, a peculiar sound jerks me back to consciousness. I open my eyes to find a mountain goat, staring at me with curiosity. Immediately, it lets out a loud “Baa!” that makes me jump out of my skin. I scramble deeper into the shrub and raise my crossbow, worried about the long horns spiraling out of its white head. Much to my dismay, the safety is stuck—or, more likely, frozen.

  I grab a loose arrow and point it at the animal. “Get away or I’ll kill you!” I threaten.

  The goat is unimpressed. It simply goes back to munching on leaves, stripping them off the branches with its long, pink tongue. Once it’s good and ready, it turns to me, bleats one last time, then strolls away waggling its tail at me.

  Before my dinner disappears from sight, I shake and punch the crossbow, hoping it’ll somehow dislodge the firing mechanism. It doesn’t budge though. I suspect only a fire will melt the ice embedded within it. Out of all the times for the stupid thing to misfire! I throw it to the ground and shout every curse I know.

  After I’ve had enough, I force myself to get up and amble on, trying to ignore the fact that I’m temporarily weaponless—and that much more vulnerable. What am I going to do now? How am I going to defend myself against Frost? Chuck an arrow at him?

  All these questions bounce around in my head as I trek through the swirling storm of screaming silver. The landscape keeps changing, sloping ever upward, draining me even more. The looming mountains draw closer. They’re so majestic and expansive. From this angle they look like the back of a giant dragon who lay down to sleep centuries ago and never woke up again. Awesome as they are, however, I am uneasy about the thought of scaling them. Unless I find food, such a climb will be impossible.

  Hours drag by. I continue getting worse. Fatigued. Dehydrated. Exhausted. The numbness spreads from my feet to the rest of my body thanks to lack of sunlight and food. My blood begins to cool, and my skin turns icy. As if that isn’t enough, nausea twists my stomach in knots again.

  Sinking to my knees, I start retching. I look down at the clear liquid my stomach has released. Oh, that’s not a good sign. It means I’m running on empty now. I lean against a nearby boulder, panting hard. The trees seem to violently whirl around, and I struggle to exhale. Finally, my knees buckle, and I plunge to the ground.

  Somehow the fall doesn’t stop. I keep falling—down, down, down, and down some more. As I plummet, I see others falling past me, surrounded by halos of green, glowing lights. I reach for my mother and father among them. For just a moment of bliss, I grab their hands, but they are pulled past me. More fall around me. Pluto. Chance. Zeb. I flail in the darkness but can’t keep them from falling.

  Am I dead? Have I just disintegrated? Is this hell?

  At this point, I have no idea.

  More figures sink around me. My heart leaps to my throat when I see an all-too-familiar face. Lily gazes at me. Her mouth is moving, but I can’t determine what she’s saying. I am deaf to her words, helpless to help her as she, too, falls past me, into the blackness. Finally, I’m there again, on the ice, struggling to hold on to Blitzen as he disappears into the black water forever.

  Sometime later, a moment stretched into an eternity, I open my eyes. I’m lying on the ground, my cheek cold against the snow. I’m still alive somehow, even though the others aren’t. I force myself to stand. I must keep going. I have a mission. I know how important it is, and I have to continue. But I can’t. I just...can’t.

  God knows I want to keep going, but my body has hit the end of the line. I lean up against the boulder and groan softly. So much pain courses through my body. It’s everywhere—inside me, all over the outside of me, everywhere. This is as far as I can go.

  It’s only when I hear the low growls that my attention shifts.

  They’ve found me.

  I can just make out the large masses of fur through t
he blurry haze that remains of my vision. Their thin lips are pulled back in snarls. In the wolves’ eyes, I see the satisfaction—no, the avengement and elated furor. They plan to enjoy this. At this point, my death seems inevitable. What chance do I stand against six of them?

  Even so, I take an arrow in each hand and brace myself.

  I will not go quietly.

  The new alpha steps up and howls at me, loudly enough to make my bones shudder. The howl carries past my trembling body and echoes around the clearing. The creature then lurches forward, into a sprint, with his pack in tow. It won’t be long now.

  “I’m sorry, Lily,” I whisper. “I failed.”

  A few more seconds, and it’ll be over. But just as I aim to slice the beasts with my arrows, thick walls of ice rise from the ground and form a perfectly round dome around me. The wolves crash into the enclosure, then snarl, scratch, and bite it uselessly. All I can do is stare at them through the crystal-clear barrier, dumbfounded. What just happened here?

  “Ahem...”

  I tilt my head up and see, standing at the top of a nearby boulder, none other than my quarry himself, Jack Frost, smiling devilishly at me. My mouth opens in bewilderment. After giving me a playful wave, he does a twisting front flip off the boulder and lands directly in front of me in a crouched position.

  Whoa. That was kind of cool. Not gonna lie.

  As if reading my thoughts, he nods smugly, only reigniting my hatred for him. Jack doesn’t appear to be wounded. He moves without any difficulties or signs of pain.

  “Wow. You’re a fast healer,” I say drily.

  Jack stands and speaks in a taunting tone. “No, those guards are just lousy shots.”

  I rub my eyes and focus on him. Jack is a little different than what I envisioned. He’s taller than me, over six feet. He is dressed in a silver, blue-trimmed tunic and dark blue trousers. His body seems more toned than muscular. He also looks younger than I imagined, around 30, albeit with a shock of white hair above his piercing blue eyes. I’ve always expected his gaze to be more sinister, his expression more of a scowl, but he offers neither. If anything, he seems bemused—maybe even a little entertained by my plight.

  “You were never hit?” I ask.

  He snorts. “’Course not.”

  “So it was all an act?” I ask, embarrassed about our stupidity, mine in particular. That’s what we get for assuming.

  He simply nods.

  “What about the blood?” I ask, half-expecting him to say he used corn syrup, like in the movies. But Frost is full of surprises today.

  “Polar bear,” he informs me.

  I raise my brows. “Hmm. Well, I guess I’ll be joining him soon.”

  Frost turns around and walks over to where the wolves are milling about. He raises a hand, and the icy wall begins to crack and shatter, exciting the beasts all over again. “Is that what you want, Lucian?” he offers impassively. “To die? If so, I can let them in.”

  At this point, I’m growing tired of his games. If he plans to kill me, I’d rather he just cut to the chase. So I muster all the venom I can and pour it into my next words. “I want you to die, you bastard...as slowly and painful as possible.” My voice is so cold and hateful that I hardly recognize it myself.

  My words seem to press a button, because Frost drops his hand. He walks over and crouches down to my level. “Why?” he asks.

  I explode in a sudden outburst of rage. “Because you took everything away from me—my family, my friends...and now my Lily is dying, too, all because of you!” Overcome with all my suppressed emotions, all that sadness, despair, frustration, and anger, I feel warm tears spilling down my cheeks.

  Frost appears to be moved, and he remains silent for several minutes until I calm down. When he speaks again, his voice is unnervingly gentle. “Is that why you came after me?”

  “Yes.” I close my eyes. “I wanted to save her, to get the cure.”

  He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. “Look at me, Lucian,” Frost says.

  Reluctantly, I obey.

  “You have all been lied to. There is no virus.”

  I blink twice. “No. No, you’re lying.”

  “I’m not,” he says in a firm voice. “I’ve been trying to warn you all. The real enemy is in your village.”

  This must be a trick, I decide, shaking my head. After all, it’s what Frost is best at. “Right”, I scoff. “Says the guy who just bombed my village.”

  “I had my reasons.”

  I wait for him to elaborate, but he remains ominously silent. “Unless you give me something more substantial, I’m sticking to my belief that you’re a lying, murderous snake.”

  “I can’t,” he says. “My situation is...complicated. As is yours.”

  I shrug. “Then why are we still talking? Just kill me and be done with it.”

  Frost stares at me for a long time, as if contemplating whether or not he should do it. Then, in one quick move, he snatches my arrows and stands. Really? He’s going to dispose of me with my own weapons? Talk about adding insult to injury.

  I brace myself for it, but instead of attacking me, he breaks the arrows in half and starts a fire with them, right in the center of the ice dome. Mindful of the smoke, he also creates an opening above us. A quick hand gesture is all it takes; his command over the ice is extraordinary.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  He unstraps something from his back. “Saving you from hypothermia.”

  “Aren’t you in the business of killing elves?” I say flatly.

  He gives me an annoyed look before pulling out an animal skin, white and fluffy, from inside his tunic. He lays it on the ground near the fire and gestures toward it.

  Begrudgingly, I crawl over and wrap the pelt tightly around me. My body warms slowly, and I start to regain sensation in my extremities.

  He raises a brow. “Hungry?”

  I shrug.

  From one of his pockets, Frost pulls out a canteen and a clear package filled with strips of dried meat. He places them beside me. “Eat and rest. Once you’re feeling better, I’ll fly you back home.”

  I frown. “Why would you do that?”

  “All in due time, Lucian.”

  I’ve had enough of his riddles, so I focus on the food instead. I bring the canteen to my dry, cracked lips. The drink is hot and sweet and cinnamonny. I like it, but it’s the decadent meat I enjoy most. Its flavor is bold and tangy, almost like barbecue. I devour it like someone might steal it at any moment, releasing involuntary moans of pleasure as I chew. Frost doesn’t say anything during my feeding frenzy; he just watches me with that amused expression on his face. Whatever. Like I care about proper dining etiquette right now.

  “Mmm. So good,” I say through a mouthful.

  A faint smirk plays around his lips. “Glad you like it.”

  “What is it?” I ask, curious.

  “Polar bear.”

  My jaw freezes mid-bite. “Wh-What?” I search his face for signs of jesting but see no humor there.

  Suddenly he throws his head back and lets loose with a real gut-busting, almost-doubling-over laugh. So far he isn’t anything at all like what I expected. I’m not sure if that makes me hate him more or less.

  “Is it really bear?” I demand, glaring at him.

  Regaining his composure, he wipes his eyes. “Well, where do you think that blanket came from?”

  My gaze drops to the fluffy fur wrapped around me, and realization sinks in. I lift my eyes to Frost’s face again.

  He gives a nonchalant shrug. “Waste not, want not,” is his only explanation.

  After that, I stop talking to him. I really don’t know what to make of the guy—or, more specifically, of his mental state. I mean, how long has Frost been out here, alone in the frozen wilderness, with only his dark thoughts and evil plotting to keep him company? Something tells me I don’t want to find out. In spite of my worries, however, I soon drift off to sleep.

  I awake hou
rs later to the sound of a quiet conversation between Frost and a soft-spoken female. Ever so slowly, I take a peek. She’s outside of our dome, which prevents me from seeing the newcomer too clearly, and they speak through a hole in the ice wall.

  “I’m still unconvinced about this. Why, exactly, are you going to let him go back?” she asks in an accent with a faint Asian edge to it.

  Frost pauses a moment, then answers, “Because he needs to find out for himself. It’s the only way. You know that.”

  Vague as always.

  She continues to worry. “And if he tells them you’re still alive?”

  “Lucian won’t say anything.”

  Her sigh is barely audible. “For everyone’s sake, I hope not.” With that, she walks off, her footsteps sloshing along. And I’m left wondering who this mysterious girl is...and what part she is playing in Frost’s nefarious machinations.

  Chapter Eight

  The midmorning sunlight warms my face, stirring me from sleep. A bright, clear sky glimmers against the translucent ice that still surrounds me. Frost stands near the fire, roasting a large piece of meat on a spit. He glances over at me and smirks slightly. “Care for a little breakfast?”

  “That depends. It’s not a bear omelet, is it?”

  “No, no,” he says with fervent head shake. “This is...another delicacy.”

  I don’t trust him in the least, but as they say, beggars can’t be choosers. Doing my best to pretend it’s beef, I eat the greasy chunk and try to maintain a neutral expression on my face. I notice that Frost doesn’t take any for himself. He must have eaten before I woke up. I mean, it can’t have anything to with the meat’s potentially disgusting origins, right?

  “Are you feeling better?” he asks after I finish gulping the bite down.

  “Yes.” I take a drink from my canteen. “Thank you,” I add quietly. Even though I still think he’s lying, I don’t want to anger him. He might kill me on the spot. Better to placate him till I’m back home. Then I’ll work with the guards to somehow capture Frost and get the cure from him. By any means necessary...