by Tara West
Dianna had never laughed so hard as these last two days with Simeon. He’d told her wild stories about the people of Kyanu and his sisters, endearing himself to her. There was a fondness in his voice when he spoke of them, especially of Jae, his non-magical twin.
When she first met him, she’d thought him incapable of feelings, only interested in luring women into his arms. But then he’d risked his life for his sister, and here he was, following her on a dangerous quest. Mayhap she’d been wrong about him. If only... she cleared her head of such foolish thoughts. She’d not allow herself to fall for any man, for she’d no wish to be spoon-feeding him three-hundred years later, too selfish to let him pass to the Elements.
“What are you thinking?” Simeon asked, toying with the stems of the cotulla flowers he’d picked to ward off the musty smell of Borg’s scalp. She was relieved that after her healing magic, Simeon showed no signs of his earlier head injury from the troll’s poison, though it had burned a fist-sized hole through his skull. Trolls were nasty creatures.
“Many things,” she answered plainly, leaving it at that, for she’d no desire to tell him she was thinking how they could never be together.
He plucked a long petal from the lavender flower, eyeing her from under thick lashes. “Is that why you frown so much?”
She tried not to flinch at his words, but they made her uneasy. She hadn’t realized she was always frowning. Still, it was unkind of him to point it out. She was on a mission to destroy the woman who’d birthed her or watch the world perish. Hadn’t she a reason to frown? “I carry the weight of the world on my shoulders,” she snapped.
When he placed a gentle hand on her arm, she flinched.
He blinked at her with large, golden eyes, looking far too innocent and sincere. “When will you let me share in your burden?”
She looked away. “I can’t.” Why was he being so kind? She liked him better when he was an obnoxious flirt. At least then she could slap him without feeling remorse.
“Why?” He squeezed her arm. “Haven’t I already proven my loyalty to you, that I do not have eyes for another?”
When he scooted so close their knees touched, she jerked her leg away and shook off his grip. The feel of his warm skin on hers was too much. He was too much. Too much longing. Too much heartbreak.
“It’s getting dark.” She stood, turning her back to him while dusting debris off her pants and trying not to think of where it had come from. “I must tell Borg to find a place to camp.” She cupped her hands around her mouth and stomped a foot. “Borg! We need to stop for the night.”
The giant stopped so suddenly, they both lurched forward. Simeon tumbled into Dianna, smashing his face into her buttocks. She landed on her knees with a grunt, then unwrapped his arms from her waist. Thank the Elements for her willpower, because she’d been sorely tempted to turn into his embrace.
“Okay, fwiends,” Borg boomed.
“I know you have feelings for me,” Simeon whispered at her back. “You can’t hide from your heart forever.”
“You are too sure of yourself.” She stiffened, then slowly turned, unclenching her fists. “Just because every other woman falls at your feet doesn’t mean I will.”
“I’m sorry.” He dropped his gaze to his lap, his shoulders falling as if they were burdened by the weight of Zier’s pack. “I thought you—never mind.”
An arrow of regret shot straight to her heart. Damn Simeon for making her care about his feelings.
When Borg dropped them off in a narrow clearing beside a shallow stream, the first thing she noticed was a fire pit, still warm with embers.
Ryne held his hands over it. “It looks as if someone has already camped here.”
She knelt beside an indentation in the ground, then reached for a pile of wet tea leaves. “The villagers of Adolan.”
“How can you tell?”
“The markings on the ground.” There were triangular indentations all over the clearing. “Left by their hunting tents and these.” She held out the leaves.
“Thyme tea is a favorite drink among the villagers,” Zier added as he leaned his pack against a stump. “I’ve sold it to ’em often enough.”
She feared Madhea’s icy winds would soon encompass the whole world. “The cold must have driven them out.”
Zier frowned, thoughtfully rubbing his bearded chin. “I fear Aya-Shay will soon be overburdened.”
She cringed, worried for her people—not just for the displaced, but those who couldn’t escape the cold. What about the sick and infirm? Had the townspeople helped them get to safety? “Will your king turn them all away?” she asked Zier, fearing his response.
“I’m not sure.” He slid onto a thick boulder and pulled out a bladder of his dwarf brew.
She worried the king would not accept the villagers from Adolan, which meant they’d overrun the town of Aloa-Shay and the smaller villages, most likely already full to capacity with the villagers from Kicelin. What would happen when the cold spread to the shoreline villages? Where would everyone go?
She meant to ask Zier, but he looked in no mood to speak, sitting by himself, drinking his brew. She’d no idea how the dwarves could stomach such swill, for it was so strong, it tasted like poison. She knew this because Zier had sold a small jug to her father once, and she had boldly taken a sip when nobody was watching. After coughing so hard she thought she would die, she’d found relief after drinking an entire pitcher of water.
She looked over at Simeon and Ryne, surprised they were working together to rekindle the fire.
“Borg.” She turned to the giant. “Could you please get us some firewood?”
“Okay, but fwiends stay here.”
Dianna heaved a weary groan. “We’re not going anywhere.”
Without another word, the giant stomped into the forest, heedless of the trees he flattened. Dianna wondered why he didn’t just break those up, but she didn’t feel like arguing.
She wanted to run away when Ryne stalked toward her, determination in the firm set of his mouth. “We should reach the edge of the forest by tomorrow evening. Then it will not be long before we reach what is left of Adolan.” He nodded toward the forest where Borg had disappeared. “That giant slog will put us at risk.”
Her heart fell. “I know, but I don’t know how to get rid of him, and he has been helpful.”
“Simeon,” Ryne called. “Use your persuasion.”
He nodded to Ryne as the giant returned to camp, carrying a small pine, roots and all.
Simeon faced Borg. “Go home, Borg. You can’t come with us.” His voice wasn’t firm and powerful like before. Dianna wondered if Simeon was even trying.
“Borg no go.” He dropped the tree, then stomped a foot like a toddler on the verge of a tantrum. “Da says Borg follow.”
“I thought you had the power to persuade,” Ryne snapped.
“I do.” He shrugged. “It just doesn’t seem to work on giants. If you’ll excuse me.” He turned on his heel, marching into the forest without even so much as looking at her.
“What’s wrong with him?” Ryne asked Dianna, his tone mocking, not concerned.
“I don’t know,” she lied, averting her eyes. Could he still be upset by what she’d said? Simeon had many admirers in Kyanu. Why should he be miffed over one rejection? She wanted to go after him, but she had no idea what to say. Besides, she had more pressing matters, namely getting rid of the giant before they cleared the forest and were spotted by humans with spears or even worse, Madhea could see them from Ice Mountain. That is, if she hadn’t already spotted them in her mists.
“But, Borg.” She stood, clasping her hands in a prayer pose. “You have no shoes, no winter coat. You will freeze to death.”
“Da be mad if Borg no follow.” When a tear slipped down his wide snout, her heart fell. She wanted to despise this giant for jeopardizing their journey, but she felt only pity. What kind of control did that king have over Borg, that he’d risk freezing to death rath
er than displeasing him?
“Owie.” Borg fell on his rump with a boom, causing Dianna and Ryne to tumble to the ground.
Ryne swore as he sat up, wiping dirt off his breeches.
She looked at Borg, who was scratching the bottom of his foot. She was surprised to see a wide hole on his sole that looked like the flaming pit of Eris’s volcano.
She struggled to her feet and cautiously walked up to the giant. “Let me see your foot, Borg.” As she got closer, she nearly gagged on the horrifying stench radiating from his heel. “It’s infected.” She waved a hand in front of her face, though it did little good. The wretched smell was as thick as soup. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Borg no want to bother fwiends.”
“But you know I’m a healer.” She plugged her nose. “I healed your finger after the troll spit on you. The troll venom must have got you when you stomped on it. I can’t believe you’ve been walking on that foot all this time.” She pointed to a flat patch of moss behind him. “Lie all the way down, so I can get a good look at it.”
“Dianna, a word,” Ryne grumbled in her ear.
“Hold on.”
He dragged her away from Borg, surprising her. “Hey!” she protested, but he kept pulling until they were standing behind a copse of tall pines.
“Are you mad?” he spat, his normal scowl deepening. “Why would you heal him?”
She blinked. Was he in earnest? “Because he’s in pain, and if I don’t do something, the infection will spread. He could die, Ryne.”
He laughed. “Don’t you see? This is how we get rid of him.”
She stepped back, eyeing him with disgust. “By letting him die?”
He rolled his eyes to the sky. “If that’s what it takes.”
Dianna waited for him to tell her ’twas only a joke. She had always thought the ice dweller a bit harsh, but she was beginning to realize he was more than that—he was downright awful. “Have you no heart?”
He made an exasperated sound. “This beast puts our lives in danger with his presence. He jeopardizes our chance of saving an entire race of people. If having no heart means I’d rather see him die than thousands of my people perish, then yes,” he hissed, “I have no heart. But at least you can’t accuse me of having no sense, which is more than I can say for you.”
She was stunned, for her parents had taught her that the highest virtues were kindness and understanding, and she was feeling neither of those things at the moment.
Zier hobbled up to them. “Borg is getting impatient. Is something the matter?”
“Do you agree, Zier?” she asked, suddenly choked with emotion. “That I should let Borg die?”
“Nay, lass. I cannot agree.” The dwarf turned a disapproving frown on Ryne, his graying bushy brows drawn together. “He means us no harm. He is only following his father’s orders.”
Ryne surrendered. “If you heal him now, he will die in the frigid weather, or Madhea will kill him when she kills us. Either way he will die.”
Zier grabbed her elbow, looking at her with soulful eyes. “Heal him. We still have time to throw him off our trail. He can save us time by carrying us one more day through the forest. Not to mention, you will not find a better protector.”
“She can summon her dragons,” Ryne argued.
Her neck stiffened at the mention of the dragons. “No, I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. I’ve tried to reach out to Lydra, but I can’t sense her. It’s as if she’s disappeared.” She’d tried to call Lydra numerous times since they’d entered Werewood Forest, and her dragon had yet to answer. Were Lydra and Tan’yi’na okay, or had some creature harmed them?
Ryne scratched the back of his head, looking lost in contemplation. “That can’t be good.”
She forced a smile. No sense in worrying the others. “I’m sure it will be fine. Perhaps she and Tan’yi’na are deep in the forest. I doubt there’s anything that could harm them.”
“Then we need Borg,” Zier said. “We don’t want another incident like what happened with the troll. I promise, once we reach the end of the forest, I will come up with a way to lose him.”
Relief swept through her. She didn’t want to let the giant die a slow and cruel death, especially as he’d gotten the injury by protecting them. “All right.” She was relieved when he didn’t break eye contact. “I’m relying on your promise.”
The dwarf placed a hand over his heart. “Lass, when a dwarf gives his word, he keeps it.”
Chapter Ten
Ura felt a momentary pang of guilt for attempting to steal Dame Eryll’s stone. The matronly widow had nearly died from heartbreak after so recently losing most of her family. Still, it was not to be helped. The Ice People had greater need of that stone than Dame Eryll.
Ura was familiar with the layout of the Eryll clan’s cavernous dwelling. Her father had forced her to dine there during the early stage of Bane’s failed courtship. The Eryll cavern was thrice the size of her father’s modest dwelling, though the former chieftain only had three children. Well, one child, now that one had been eaten by a gnull and the other outed for cowardice, presumably eaten as well.
She was fortunate she had not married into the Eryll clan and had a brave, strong husband. All she had to do was ensure his survival by stealing the Eryll’s stone. Markus and Ura had spent the last few days alternating between finishing up the boats and planning their theft. The plan was simple. She would sneak into the Eryll cavern and take their stone while the rest of the Ice People celebrated the Festival of Lost Souls. Markus would stand watch outside, whistling if he suspected someone was coming.
The Festival of Lost Souls was an important day of celebration and remembrance. On this day over three hundred years ago, Madhea had struck down their small mountain town, killing over half the villagers and forcing the survivors to flee beneath the surface. Fortunately for the Ice People, the wanderer Odu had been staying with them the night Madhea attacked. It was he who led them to their new homes and provided the most affluent families with the warming stones, which she now knew to have far greater capabilities than just boiling water. Markus had told her each stone possessed the spirit of the fallen goddesses Kyan and her daughters.
She found it bewildering that the Ice People had used these stones to warm their cooking pots for three hundred years, not realizing goddesses resided inside. Because of that, she didn’t feel guilty in the slightest for stealing the Eryll clan stone. It had a far greater purpose than keeping their toes warm at night.
She rummaged through the kitchen first, opening each drawer, then checking the shelves and finally the oven. She smiled when she saw the innocuous-looking stone lying at the bottom of the greasy oven, its smooth, pale surface covered in grime and food. She clucked her tongue as she wiped the stains off on her vest. The Eryll clan didn’t deserve such a treasure.
“Ura?”
She spun around, quickly pocketing the stone. “Dame Eryll, you frightened me.” Curse the Elements! What was she doing at home?
The older woman, who looked too much like her son Bane, with a gaunt face and a concave chest, eyed her with suspicion. “What are you doing here?”
“J-just come to see why you aren’t at the festival.”
“My son is ill.” She looked at Ura’s hip pocket. “What did you take from my oven?”
She backed up a step, willing her racing heart to slow. “‘Tis nothing.”
Dame Eryll lurched forward, shoved Ura aside, and opening the worn oven door. Flames brewed in her beady gaze. “‘Tis my stone. Thief!” Her scream was so shrill and deafening, Ura feared the ice walls around them would crumble. “Thief! Thief!”
Dame Eryll lurched forward, latching onto Ura’s arm. “Let’s see what the Council has to say about this.”
“Let me go!” she pleaded, struggling to break the woman’s surprisingly firm grip. “We were only borrowing it. Markus needs it to defeat Madhea and save the Ice People.”
>
“I don’t care if that bloody land dweller needed the stone to save the entire world.” Her thin mouth pulled back in a snarl. “It’s my stone, and you’ll not be having it!”
She froze at the sound of heavy footsteps.
Dame Eryll’s snarl morphed into a wicked grin. “Now you’re in trouble.”
Her heart lurched when Markus’s broad shoulders filled the doorway. “Let. Her. Go.” His deep bellow shook the room like the roar of a snowbear.
Dame Eryll gasped, dropping Ura’s arm.
“We will return the stone to its rightful owner as soon as we are able.” Shadows fell over his face. “You are not to say a word, or you will have to contend with me. Do you understand?”
The woman silently nodded, lower lip quivering.
He pulled Ura out of the Eryll dwelling.
“I’m afraid she’ll tell,” Ura cried.
He remained silent as they continued toward the dwelling they shared with her father.
“Markus,” she pleaded, tugging on his arm. “What are we going to do?”
He stared straight ahead, his features as solid as a block of ice. “We’re leaving.”
“Now?” she gasped.
“Now.” He left her at the entry to their dwelling, placing a quick kiss on her cheek. “Pack our things. I’ll go to the festival and alert the others.”
Her mind raced, fear clogging her veins like a river of icy slush. Without thinking, she flung herself into his arms. “What about Madhea?”
“She’s not my concern.” He cupped her cheek in his large, calloused hand. “Your safety is what matters most. Those who are left will have to deal with her. Meet us at the boats.” He kissed her once more, a hard, desperate kiss that nearly stole her breath. And then he was off, racing to the great hall like fanged Krahen were snapping at his heels.
She fell against the wall, paralyzed, for she feared neither of them would make it to the boats, and that kiss would be their last.
