by Radclyffe
A man stood on the snow, tall, black-haired, black-bearded, and naked but for a long ermine cloak thrown carelessly over one shoulder. His pearly skin glowed but his eyes were dark, hidden in shadow. He wore a great crown of jagged icicles that blazed blue in the starlight and there were snowflakes in his hair. As Dara took a step, the man glanced carelessly at him and instantly Dara’s feet were trapped in ice and he could move no farther.
“Remi!”
But Remi seemed to be beyond hearing. He continued to walk away across the snowy ground, and as he approached, the tall figure threw back his cloak. With every ounce of his strength, Dara struggled to move but he was frozen to the spot. As he watched and screamed his lover’s name, Remi lifted his face for a kiss, his eyes closing in ecstasy and his hand closing, too, around the figure’s erect cock. The long kiss deepened and Remi was lifted in powerful arms, held tightly against the broad chest. Another brief glance released Dara and he took a few staggering steps before falling to his knees. But Remi was gone. As if a candle had been snuffed out, the two had vanished, leaving no trace but Remi’s footprints, already filling with snow.
*
Days passed in fruitless searching. Each evening the men of the village returned downcast and half-frozen, shaking their heads at the waiting women. On the fifth evening, the village headman gripped Dara’s shoulder. “He’s gone, boy. Nothing more to be done. Get away home, now.”
A fist squeezed Dara’s heart. Home? There was no home without Remi. As he stood, staring blindly at the ground, old Selina beckoned him from the door of her cottage.
He sat near the fire, steaming as he thawed, and she watched him as he blew and sipped at a bowl of broth. He said, “You know what they think, that he’s gone mad and run off. When he…changed, it was the start of his mind going. And they tell me I was dreaming but I wasn’t, Old Mother. I know what I saw.”
She stirred the fire and firelight danced on her face, brown and wrinkled as a walnut. “That day, the day he began to change, the day you went for the log. Tell me what happened. Leave nothing out.”
Listlessly, he told her.
“Is that all of it?” Seeing him shift uncomfortably on the stool, she flapped her hand. “Ach, I’m not interested in that. I know what you two would have got up to in the forest.” Her wise old tortoise eyes narrowed. “Think, Dara, think.”
Frowning with effort, he said, “We saw a hare. Remi fell into a drift. We ate some bread and raisins. He got snow in his eye—”
“What? Snow in his eye?”
“Yes, well, ice. He said it felt like ice. Why?”
“Pass me my shawl, no, not that one, the brown one.” She drew it closely around her shoulders and hunched forward. “Listen to me now. Are you listening? Once, long ago, a troll made a toy to amuse its master. This toy was a mirror, but it was no ordinary mirror. It only reflected what was bad and ugly in the world, and everything it showed was hateful. Now, trolls are angry and quarrelsome creatures and they fought over who should give this marvelous gift to their master. As they fought, the mirror fell and it broke into a million pieces, some as small as grains of sand. These pieces were carried away by the north wind and even now they blow about the world, working their mischief. They enter men’s eyes and work their way to their hearts and freeze them. These men become like the mirror, cold, hateful.”
The broth was finished. Carefully, Dara laid the bowl on the table. The old woman was confused, but then, she was more than ninety. As respectfully as he could, he said, “Old Mother, there are no such things as trolls.”
“Is that what you think? But you have met their master.”
“Their master?”
“Yes. The one who took Remi. The Snow King.”
Dara stared at her.
“It wasn’t snow in Remi’s eye but a piece of the mirror. Remi is handsome, Dara, and the Snow King chooses handsome young men to be his companions. But they must be made cold. When Remi is cold enough, all warmth gone, the Snow King will enter him and fill him with his icy seed. And then…”
“He will be dead…”
“As good as. Lost to you forever.”
Dara got to his feet. “I’ll find him. I’ll find him, old woman, and bring him back. Tell me where I must go.”
“You’ll never find him—”
“Tell me where to go!”
She sighed and sucked her gums and looked into the fire. “North.”
*
Twilight was falling fast as Dara left the track and pushed through a tangle of undergrowth into the forest. He needed to find shelter for the night, and if the snow was as deep under the trees, the cutting wind was less. There would be a hollow trunk somewhere and if he was lucky, it would be dry and full of blown leaves. He staggered a little as a bramble clawed him, because he was famished and weakened by days of hard travel. At first, his pack full to bursting with bread and juicy sausage, his pocket full of rabbit snares, he had made good time, striding strongly mile after mile along snowy roads, but his food was long gone. This far north, there were no longer kindly villagers to press hunks of black bread into his hand, a few withered apples, and for two days he had caught no rabbits. He leaned against a silver birch and unshouldered his pack. I will die, he thought, if I don’t get something to eat. I’ll rest for a while until my legs stop shaking and then I’ll see if I can find a few berries, or a tree mushroom. Memories of his mother’s hot meat pies tormented him, and the thought of Annalena’s sweet nut cakes hurt his growling stomach, but he shook them away and reached again for his pack. As he straightened, he thought he saw a light between the trees. At first he thought it might be a will-o’-the-wisp but the light was steady, not dancing. Hunger forgotten, he wound his way between gnarled oaks, becoming more curious as the light grew stronger. Suddenly, he stopped, staring in bemusement. There, in a wide clearing, it was a bright summer day. There was a cottage and a young man stood at its door. A simple blue garment was tied loosely around his hips, and ears of wheat threaded through the yellow curls that tumbled around his handsome face.
“Welcome,” he said, smiling. His voice was rich and mellow and his greeting seemed to Dara the most wonderful thing he had ever heard.
Dara stumbled forward and was bathed in golden light. Fine grasses and clover were soft under his sore feet. Flowers grew in profusion around the walls of the cottage, peonies, poppies and roses, yellow hollyhocks and white foxgloves, fluttering with butterflies. Sun glinted off a deep pool, dotted with water lilies, and the air was warm and full of the scents of summer. “What is this place?” he murmured, staring in wonderment.
“Why, this is my home. This is where you may rest for a little while. My name is Mehefin, and you are Dara, I think. You must eat and rest, but first take off your wet clothes and let the sun warm your skin.”
As he took the outstretched hand, it seemed to Dara that warmth spread through him, filling his belly, thawing his frozen feet and numb legs. The heat spread to his cock and it rose, swelling under his breeches. He blushed, but the young man passed gentle fingers over his cheek.
“Ah, Dara, I know what you feel. Don’t be ashamed, life is returning to you. You’re young and strong and alive. But if you prefer, I’ll leave you. Undress. Lie in the sunshine. Sleep.”
His clothes in a sodden heap, Dara stretched out on a patch of clover. Heat caressed his back. The sweet scent under his cheek and the thrum of bees lulled him. His confusion and wonderment slipped away and he slept.
*
“Good afternoon. Did you sleep well?”
A soft bed. Softer pillows. A thin coverlet of white wool across his legs. Dara blinked at golden motes of pollen swirling in shafts of sunshine. Tendrils of some tender vine crept through the window and trembled in a gentle breeze. Mehefin was sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Yes, I thank you. But, please…who are you? What is this place? How can it be summer here?”
Instead of answering, he indicated a platter at his side. There was a crisp
loaf of barley bread, a wheel of cheese, and dishes of butter and honeycomb. “Eat slowly, a little at a time.”
Dara needed no second urging. He had never been so hungry in his life, but he remembered his manners and offered the platter to the beautiful young man, who regarded him calmly, and smilingly shook his head. Once his first savage hunger was satisfied, Dara lay back against the pillows. He realized with a shock of surprise that his body was clean, the dirt and grime of his journey washed away before he was put to bed. Again he asked, “Who are you?”
“I am Mehefin.”
“Are you magic? Is this place magic?”
“Magic?” He cut a slice of honeycomb. “Open.” He slid the dripping morsel into Dara’s mouth and thoughtfully licked his fingers, one by one. “Yes, for you I’d be magic, I suppose. But I’m as much a part of this lovely earth as you.” Seeing Dara’s brow crease, he patted his knee. “Let’s say for now I am magic. And you’ve seen other magic, I think.”
Remi. A wave of guilty horror washed through Dara. Lying here in idleness, filling his belly, while his beloved Remi— “I must go. I must leave now. I thank you but I must go now.”
“Wait. Shh, now, wait.”
In his panic, he had thrown off the coverlet and was bare under Mehefin’s gaze. Unaccountably, despite his frantic anxiety, he stiffened slightly.
Mehefin raised serene blue eyes from his cock. “You’ve done well to come this far. But your love and your passion for Remi will be as nothing when set against the Snow King. Midwinter, and he in his kingdom? He’s at his most powerful, Dara.”
“How did you know? How do you know all this? Who are you?”
Mehefin raised his arms in a salute to the sun. “I am the summer, he is the winter. We are the same, but opposites. I’ve known you and Remi since you were born, for you were born at my time, July children. I’ve watched you grow, Dara. I know all that has happened. I know all that will happen if you don’t have my help.”
“You’ll help me?”
“As far as I can. I can’t draw too near his icy kingdom, for this is his time, not mine. But just as chill winds blow sometimes in June, so January days can feel a little sunshine. You may take a little summer into mid-winter. Take something of me into the frozen kingdom to help thaw your Remi’s heart.”
“Something of you?”
“Yes. My seed.”
A great wash of color rose in Dara’s cheeks.
“Given and willingly taken. Yours and mine, mingled. Carried inside you, this would be a powerful charm against the cold. Will you let me help you in this way?”
Do with you what I’ve only done with Remi? It would be a betrayal of our love and he would surely despise me for it. But then, without it, there will be no Remi. He took a deep breath. “Yes.” He lay back against the pillows. “Please. Yes.”
“I am weakest at mid-winter, but some little magics remain.” Mehefin reached to his hair and pulled out an ear of wheat. “When you find Remi, bring him out of the palace, out onto the lake. Hold this and call for me and I’ll hear.” With a deft movement, Mehefin unfastened his garment. Tall, his body as supple and strong as a new shoot surging from the earth, he looked down at Dara, his eyes darkening and his cock rising as Dara swallowed hard and bravely opened his legs. “It needn’t be a torment for you. Take me and enjoy me.” He lay alongside Dara and gathered him in his arms, and strength flowed from him along with each deep kiss. Dara gave a little moan of delight, and desire for Mehefin brought his cock up, hard and eager. Dipping his finger into the dish of honeycomb, Mehefin touched it between Dara’s legs, where it became sweet oil that opened him and softened the guarding ring of muscle. “Now, sweetheart.” He kissed Dara’s brow in blessing and entered him in one smooth, swift glide. The bliss of it made Dara cry out in astonished joy and he clutched Mehefin tightly and buried his face against his throat.
Steadily Mehefin thrust, sending pleasure to every part of Dara’s body, and soon Dara felt his climax grow. He groaned and stiffened but when the climax racked him, there was no gush of seed. As if he had been brought back to the start again, the pleasure grew and Mehefin murmured and held him until he cried out a second time. But still, there was no seed. He raised his face for Mehefin’s glorious kiss, wondering if he would die from the pleasure of his cock, but just as his climax took him for the third time, he felt the scalding burst of seed, thick and abundant inside him, and his own seed flooded his belly. The last thing he heard before he sank into an immensity of blue was Mehefin’s urgent whispering. “Bring him to me. I will wait.”
*
Dara found himself standing at the edge of a lake, a vast expanse of rippled ice that stretched as far as the eye could see. In the center of the lake, the water had fountained far into the sky and frozen to form the walls and towers and pinnacles of a palace of ice that glittered gorgeously under a pale sky. A knifing wind skittered fine drifts of snow along the surface of the lake, but Dara was warm. His clothes were dry and even his broken boots were mended. He sent a thought of passionate thanks to kindly Mehefin and he seemed to feel a faint answering glow deep in his belly. Little magics, but enough. Enough to bring him here. Enough to give him the strength he needed to bring Remi out of the cold. He set his shoulders and took a first step onto the ice.
The palace loomed above him, colorless, but the ice flickering blue and lilac and gray as clouds scudded across the sun. He passed under a portcullis hung with icicles like spears and shuddered at the thought of one dropping to slice through him. A courtyard opened, ringed with several arched doorways. All was empty, all was silent. Nothing moved in that desolation of ice except his breath, rising like smoke in the frigid air. He walked through the tallest of the archways, through chamber after chamber, each larger than the last. Ahead of him, light streamed through a window carved into the shape of a snowflake and fell on a low dais. Silent and unmoving on his throne of granite and iron, the Snow King watched Dara approach. Pale as marble, his lips bloodless, a coronet of woven ice on his dark hair, Remi stood naked at the side of the throne.
“Remi! Oh, Remi!” Dara’s heart gave a great leap of joy and he made to run forward, but a lazy lift of the Snow King’s finger manacled his ankles in ice. “Oh, Remi.”
A glacier grinding on rock, the Snow King’s voice echoed in the chamber. “Why, what have we here? An unexpected visitor.”
Dara’s legs shook and his mouth was dry with fear but he gathered all his courage. “Please. I have come for Remi.”
The Snow King sniffed the air. “I can smell it on you, his seed festering in you, the stench of the summer fool. You come here, stinking of him, and ask for…Remi? Is that his name? Summer, summer…time of rot and steaming decay, plague and pestilence breeding in sewers. Rats and flies and maggots. Look around you. Here it is cold, pure and white and clean. Cold preserves, keeps all things young and unchanging. But you want to take him back to summer.”
Dumbfounded by the malice in his voice, Dara could only stand, trembling, and will Remi to look at him. “I love him.”
“You love him.” The Snow King stroked his beard and Dara caught a glimpse of sharp teeth between the full lips. “Were you loving him when you lay with Mehefin and took his rancid seed into you? Let us say that you do. But does he love you? Shall we see? Touch him. Put your hands on him.”
A glance released Dara’s feet and he stumbled forward, up the broad steps that led to the dais. Remi turned his gaze on him and looked him up and down.
“Remi, beloved.” Dara touched the curve of his shoulder and the skin was cold, like a dead thing. There was no flicker of response on Remi’s beautiful face.
“How disappointing for you. Perhaps you’re not touching him as he likes. Like this.” The Snow King reached out and laid his hand flat on Remi’s belly, and the moan of pleasure that Remi gave then made the hairs stand up at the back of Dara’s neck.
“Dear one, we have a guest. Time enough to play later. Oh, come, come,” he drawled, seeing Dara’s st
ricken expression, “no need for such sniveling.” He leaned back and spread his legs. The black hair at his groin was spangled with frost above his magnificent cock and Dara felt a stab of terror at the thought of it piercing Remi, leaving him torn and bleeding. “All is not lost. Let’s play a game, a wager. He is cold but not yet cold enough for me to enjoy. A chance remains for you to win him back. A small chance, I grant you, but a chance, because I keep my promises, unlike Mehefin.” The Snow King’s hateful mocking grin faded and the cruelty of his nature was revealed in his stare. “You love him, he loves you. So you say. It should be easy, then, for him to say your name. Just say your name. If he does, you may take him. If he does not…you will remain here, and when he is utterly cold, you will hold him for me as I enter him. Winter seed. Yes. His seed will be…exquisite.”
Dara turned in anguish to Remi and took hold of his hand. “You remember me, beloved? Yes, yes you do.”
As if he was speaking from a great distance, Remi said. “I remember…someone pawing at me. There was sweat dripping on my back, and I was dirty, all sticky with seed. Someone was mewling and whining in my ear, always wanting to touch me. I could never rest.”
“Remi, no, it wasn’t like that! We loved, Remi, because we love each other—Remi, please, please look at me. Remi, say my name!”
But Remi gave a little frown and turned a blank face to the Snow King.
Mehefin had lied. There was no strength in him to fight the power of the cold. He was carrying the seed of the summer in his belly but it was no charm, it would work no magic. It was nothing but proof of his foolishness and Mehefin’s treacherous lust. A howl broke from his throat and he threw his arms around Remi and held him with all his strength. He began to cry, hot tears running down his cheeks and falling onto Remi’s indifferent back.
“You lose the wager,” said the Snow King. “Release him.”
“Please, I beg you, just—”
