by Jim C. Hines
The curtain was beginning to smoke as well, orange embers spreading over the edges. The darkling moved toward it, thinning to cover the entire curtain. The glow died with a hiss.
Bellum snatched the headband from Veleris. A growl reverberated in her chest. “You came into our home to beg for our help, and instead your friend attacks us?”
Talia swatted out an ember on her sleeve. The fire had been more flash than substance. The lantern burned merrily, blackened but otherwise undamaged, though Gerta’s stunt appeared to have consumed most of its fuel. She glanced at Danielle. “Fix this, would you? I’m going after Gerta.”
Danielle stared. “You expect me to-”
“Thanks!” Talia ducked out of the room and slammed the door.
Outside, the dragon was on his feet, straining to get into the room to see what had happened. A knocker yanked futilely at the chain, trying to calm him down.
“What happened in there?” the knocker demanded. “Don’t you people know magic is prohibited?”
Talia jumped past the dragon and scanned the tunnel. She spotted a faint light retreating to her left, heading deeper into the mine.
The tunnel was worn smooth, and she gained ground before Gerta ducked around a corner. Talia should have swiped the giant’s lantern, bulky as it was. Gerta’s magical light was enough to see the outlines of the tunnel, but if she extinguished that light or if Talia fell behind, she would be left in total darkness.
“Leave me alone!” Gerta shouted.
Talia ran faster. She heard raucous singing from one corridor that smelled of tobacco. The scent of fresh fish wafted from another. She passed through a small room, barely dodging around a wooden winch set into the floor beside a square pit. Something snarled at her as she passed, but she didn’t stop long enough to determine if it was animal or fairy.
The tunnel opened into a larger cavern, with stairs curving down along the side. Gerta was already halfway to the floor. The air was warmer here, more humid. Talia stopped to gauge the distance, then grabbed the railing and jumped.
Gerta spun, fingers flared as she shouted a spell.
Talia’s feet hit the rock and shot from beneath her. The ground was slick with ice. She twisted the best she could to cushion the fall, but the impact jarred the air from her chest. She lay stunned, trying to force her body to breathe.
“I’m sorry,” yelled Gerta as she ran. “Please don’t make me hurt you again.”
Talia rolled onto her side, grimacing at the pain in her elbow. Her palms were scraped bloody, and a lump the size of a marble had already begun to swell where her elbow had struck the rock. She flexed the arm to make sure the bone wasn’t broken.
“Are you all right?” A group of goblins had been working in here, shoring up the broken beams of another tunnel.
One of the goblins spat. “Magic. Is your friend trying to expose us?”
Had Snow been here, she would have made an indecent quip about exposing herself. Talia swallowed, pushing the thought aside. Gerta’s light was already fading down another tunnel, going deeper into the earth. Talia carefully stepped out of the frost-edged area which had been frozen by Gerta’s magic. “Where does that passage lead?”
“To one of the older areas of the mine. It flooded years ago. Great fishing, but it can be a dangerous place if you’re not careful. Even for your witch friend.”
“Sorceress,” Talia muttered, limping after Gerta. This was another square-cut passage, with log beams supporting the planked walls and ceiling. Dust and mold obscured old carvings in the wood. Warnings, or simply the accumulated scrawls of old miners and fairies?
Thankfully, Gerta had slowed as well. Snow had never trained as hard physically as she did mentally. It looked as though that was another thing she and Gerta shared.
“We’ll find another way,” Talia shouted. “I’m not going to let either one of you die.”
“Please don’t lie to me, Talia.” Gerta’s voice echoed strangely, and the sound of her footsteps had changed. Moments later, Talia discovered why.
The tunnel emerged at the top of an enormous cave, easily as large as the palace courtyard back home. The air smelled of steam and sulfur, and a lake filled the lower portion of the cave. A wooden walkway was built into the side of the rock, descending back and forth toward a stone bridge on the far side where the lake narrowed, connecting to another cavern through a ragged gap in the wall. The lake’s surface was perfectly still, like black glass.
Talia tugged off her boots. Not even Snow White was strong enough to freeze the entire lake. This was a higher drop than the last, but the water should break her fall. Assuming it was deep enough.
Gerta was halfway to the bridge. Talia gripped the railing in both hands and took deep breaths, filling her lungs. Her elbow was throbbing, and hip and thigh complained as well. As Gerta’s light bobbed lower, Talia climbed onto the rail and leaped.
She hit toes-first, keeping her knees bent and arms spread to absorb the impact as she plunged into the water, but she needn’t have worried. She couldn’t see how deep the lake was, but her feet never touched bottom.
It was hotter than she expected, uncomfortably so, and tasted of salt. She kicked to the surface and wiped her face, slicking back her hair. Gerta had hesitated on the stairs. “You can’t keep running,” Talia shouted.
Talia wasn’t the strongest swimmer, but Queen Beatrice had insisted she learn. She kicked toward the bridge, swimming on one side to favor her injured arm and leg. Gerta was close, but Talia should reach the bridge first. Gerta could try to flee back up the tunnels, but it would mean running uphill. Even from here, Talia could see that she was sweating and out of breath.
If she was truly a part of Snow, she wouldn’t give up easily. Talia watched Gerta the best she could, ready to duck beneath the water at the first hint of spellcasting.
Something splattered against the back of her head, hard enough to knock her face into the water. Talia stopped, kicking to keep herself afloat while she touched her head with one hand. Whatever it was, it had the consistency of hot syrup. It had sprayed the lake around her as well, judging from the rings spreading through the water. “I don’t know what kind of spell that was, but it’s disgusting!”
Gerta hurried toward the bridge. “Talia, get down!”
Talia dove, trusting the terror in Gerta’s shout. Moments later, the water over her head exploded in orange flames.
Talia kicked deeper to escape the searing heat. The surface was already boiling from the fire. She swam as far as she could, waiting until the fire stopped and her lungs forced her to the surface. Steam rose from the water, and each breath hurt her throat and chest. She took one more quick gulp of air, then ducked beneath the water again.
This time, she managed to make it to the bridge. She pulled herself past one of the stone support pillars, keeping her eyes and nose above the surface and doing the best she could to control her breathing.
Another burst of flame illuminated the dragon on the far shore. This one was far larger than either of the “tame” dragons she had seen higher up. The dragon slipped into the water with hardly a ripple. The faint glow from its mouth vanished with a hissing sound.
“Where’s a knight when you need one?” Historically, knights had never done well against dragons, no matter what the bards said. But at least Talia could have gotten away while the dragon was busy baking the knight in his armor. She grabbed the pillar and lunged higher, reaching for the edge of the bridge.
“Look out!”
Talia twisted to see the dragon swimming closer, head raised from the water, orange glow clearly visible. With a curse, she dropped beneath the water and pulled herself between the pillars. She yanked her knife from her sleeve. When the flames died, she surfaced and flung the knife at the dragon’s mouth. It bounced off the scaly snout.
“Brilliant,” snapped Gerta as she reached the bridge. “Are you trying to make the dragon angry? Maybe next we can go find a griffon so you can pull its tail.”
“Shut up, unless you want it to go after you.” Talia bobbed beneath the surface, dodging another gout of flame. The pillars supporting the bridge were built too close together for the dragon to follow. The water was clear enough to see the dragon swimming from side to side, moving as easily as a fish. The small legs kicked in a way that reminded her of a dog, but the dragon also used its wings and tail for speed. There was no way she could outswim this creature.
She pulled herself through to the far side of the bridge, then swore. In the second cavern, she could see another orange glow moving through the water toward her, no doubt attracted by the commotion.
The first dragon’s head snaked between the pillars. Talia twisted, and sharp teeth caught her sleeve. She braced herself as the dragon yanked back, slamming her against the stone hard enough to make her vision flash. The collar of her shirt cut off her breath like a garrote, and then the sleeve ripped away.
“If I help you, you have to let me go,” Gerta said.
“If you help me, you’ll get yourself killed.” Her face and neck stung as if singed by the desert sun. She used the beams to pull herself toward the far shore. The dragons kept pace with ease. “I’ll lead them away from you. Wait until they follow, then get out of here.”
Slow footsteps stopped directly over Talia’s head. “Promise me.”
Talia reversed direction, dodging another lunge. She ducked beneath the water to avoid a rush of flame. When she surfaced, steam hid the dragons from view. She squinted, trying to protect her eyes from the heat. “Fine, I promise.”
She pulled herself to one side as both dragons snapped at the sound of her voice.
“You’re lying.”
“Of course I’m lying!” The second dragon slipped its head between the columns. Talia punched it on the eyelid, bloodying her knuckles. She needed a plan, but the dragons wouldn’t ease up long enough for her to think. All she could do was react. “You know what the demon has done. I can’t-”
She swore and ducked again. When she surfaced, she spied another fire approaching from the shore, and her chest tightened. If the fire was any indication, this dragon was bigger than any Talia had seen so far, and it was approaching quickly. “Get out of here, Gerta.”
“Shut up.” Gerta’s voice was resonant.
The first dragon raised its head, spouting a halfhearted tower of fire that quickly sputtered out. The one on shore answered in kind.
Talia bobbed in the water. Sweat stung her eyes. She was certain her rapid breathing would soon pull the dragons’ attention back to her, but she couldn’t control it any more than she could stop the drumbeat of her heart.
The dragon on the shore breathed again. As if this were a signal, the other two dove away, disappearing into the water.
“Get up here.”
Talia didn’t question. She braced her back against one pillar and her feet against the next, pushing herself higher. Her muscles screamed, but she kept climbing until she reached the bridge itself. Gerta grabbed her wrist, helping her over the railing.
Talia’s legs gave out. She clung to the rail, trying to stand. Her limbs felt like warm dough.“The third dragon-”
Gerta extended a hand toward the shore and closed her fist. The flame vanished. “The other two were both male. They weren’t hungry enough to take on a mother dragon.”
“A mother? All I saw was the fire.” Talia collapsed onto her back, staring at the stalactites overhead.
Gerta rolled her eyes. “The males’ flame is narrower and hotter. You really need to read more, Talia.” She spread her fingers, gesturing at Talia’s body. Water crackled as Talia’s clothes and hair froze to the bridge.
“What are you doing?” Talia grimaced as the ice reached her arm where the dragon had torn her sleeve. She flexed, testing Gerta’s magic. Her hand peeled away from the stone. She might lose some skin, but she should be able to wrench herself free. “I suppose freezing to death is less painful than dragon fire, and the ice will help the swelling on my elbow, but-”
“Shut up.” Gerta knelt beside Talia. One hand reached out, fingertips tracing Talia’s cheekbones, then moving down the side of her neck. “I couldn’t let you die. I should have, but I couldn’t.”
“I’ll be just as dead from the cold.”
Gerta rapped Talia’s nose. “Why would she do this to me? I understand splitting off her soul, protecting a part of herself so I could be used to stop the demon. But why make me love you?”
“Maybe to stop you from running away once you realized what we had to do?”
Gerta wrinkled her nose. “You smell like dragon spit.”
“Dragon spit?” Talia sniffed. There was a rather foul smell, now that Gerta pointed it out. A combination of mucus and fetid meat.
“It’s one of the ways they hunt,” said Gerta. “By spraying spit over the water. The ripples bring fish to the surface to investigate, and then whoosh.” She pantomimed breathing fire.
If Gerta hadn’t told her to duck… Talia stopped struggling. “Thank you.”
Gerta turned away, searching the water. “Snow was jealous of you, you know.”
Talia stared. “I don’t understand.”
“When you returned from Arathea with your friend Faziya. She watched the two of you, saw how happy you were together.”
Talia’s breathing and heartbeat had gradually slowed as her body realized she was safe, at least for the moment. Now both increased again. “Why? Snow had-”
“Companionship, yes. Not love. When Faziya returned to Arathea and you retreated to your room to pout, that’s when Snow prepared her love potion, one which would allow her to love you the way Faziya did.”
“I wasn’t pouting.”
Gerta rolled her eyes.
Talia relaxed, concentrating on the feel of the frozen spikes of her hair that jabbed her scalp. “So why didn’t she?”
“You know why.” Gerta sounded distant. “She’s always enjoyed the company of men, but have you ever known her to fall in love?”
“Only once. Before she came to Lorindar.”
“Roland,” Gerta agreed. The hunter Snow’s mother had sent into the woods to find her, to cut out Snow’s heart and return it to the queen. Instead, he had fallen in love with Snow, and they had lived together for a time… until the queen found them. Snow had never shared the details of that encounter, only that her mother had tortured Roland to death while Snow lay helpless to stop her. “She was scared, Talia. Scared to lose you the way she lost him. Scared to feel that pain again.”
“I’m not that easy to lose.”
“So I’ve noticed.” Gerta placed her hand over Talia’s, weaving their fingers together. “Look at me, Talia. What do you see?”
Talia looked up. The light Gerta had conjured still glowed faintly from her right hand. Her red hair hung in tangled waves, thicker than Snow’s, but falling in the same way. Dirt smeared her pale skin. Her brown eyes never left Talia. Eyes that held much of the same sadness as her sister’s, though Snow rarely allowed anyone to see it. “I don’t understand.”
“You look at me, and you see her. Like I’m nothing but illusion, and eventually the spell will break and Snow will emerge, safe and whole once more.” She traced her fingertips over Talia’s arm. “She created me from the memories of a sister who never existed. Am I just a repository of her dreams? Am I a weapon to use against her? I don’t know anymore, Talia. But the way I feel when I think about you, when I hear your voice… when I touch you… that’s real.”
“You’d be better off asking Father Isaac those questions,” Talia said. “Even our two-headed friend knows more about magic than-”
“I don’t care about magic. I want to know what- who you see when you look at me.” Tears dripped onto Talia’s chest. “I want you to see me.”
Had Snow ever cried in front of her? Talia instinctively tried to reach for Gerta’s face, but the ice held her fast. “I do see her. The way you lecture me. The excitement and fear in your eyes when yo
u do magic, your forehead wrinkled in concentration, your teeth nibbling your lip.”
Gerta looked away, but not quickly enough to hide her pain at Talia’s words. “It’s intoxicating, rewriting the laws of the universe.”
“Not for you,” said Talia. “You don’t love it the way she does.”
“It frightens me,” Gerta admitted. “If I was created by magic, I can be destroyed the same way. I keep wondering when the universe will realize I was never supposed to exist and take steps to correct that mistake.”
“You’re not her,” Talia said softly. “Snow would have joked about the universe being full of mistakes, like manticores.”
“You have to admit, they’re bizarre-looking creatures,” Gerta said with the hint of a smile.
“I always envied her ability to joke in the midst of danger. Anger, fear, she never let them control her.”
“Snow wouldn’t have run away.” Gerta stared into the darkness.
“She wouldn’t have told me how she felt about me, either.” Talia shivered. The cold felt like it was penetrating to her bones. “Courage comes in different shapes.”
“Maybe I’m just not as smart as her.”
“Go easy on yourself. You’re only two weeks old.”
That earned a laugh, so similar to Snow’s, only somehow… lighter. More free. Gerta pulled away. “Do I look like an infant?”
“No,” Talia said softly.
Gerta reached out again, this time touching her fingertips to Talia’s lips. Her fingers carried the taste of saltwater. She brushed Talia’s chin, sliding down to the hollow in her throat.
Talia’s hand clenched reflexively into a fist, breaking free of the ice.
Gerta jerked back. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t-”
“I know.” Talia’s voice shook. “I don’t like being helpless.”
Gerta folded her hands in her lap. “And I don’t like being told my only purpose is to die.”
Talia closed her eyes, tempted to lie, but Gerta would never believe her. “I can’t leave Snow like this. Even if it means-”
