FrostFire

by Zoe Marriott

  Fourteen

  “What I want you to think about,” Luca said, as he folded himself into a cross-legged position on the grass in the clearing behind his tent, “is the space around you. Try to think of it as … a bubble. A sphere, just large enough that, if you stretch out your arms, you can touch it with the tips of your fingers.”

  I pulled my legs more tightly underneath me and looked around at the clearing. The sky was overcast, and the day was humid. Sweat made me feel sticky and uncomfortable, even though all I had done so far was to walk out here and sit down.

  “Are you ignoring me already?” Luca asked. “We haven’t even started yet!”

  “No – I’m trying but – I don’t really understand this. How it will help me, I mean.”

  Luca’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. I tried not to fidget under his piercing stare. “Your wolf, the ‘curse’ that you have, it stirs when you’re wounded, yes? When you see your own blood.”

  I nodded reluctantly.

  “Then the obvious course of action is to make you stronger, faster – a better fighter – and so less likely to shed blood in battle.”

  I nodded again, more eagerly this time.

  “But that, on its own, won’t deal with the real problem. We need to get to the root of what the wolf is, and why it responds that way to your blood. Maybe first – before we start work – it would help if you told me more about the wolf. What do you know about it? How exactly does it work?”

  I sat silently for a little while, struggling to find words to explain the beliefs I had lived with all my life. “In–in Uskaand there are two gods,” I began hesitantly. “The first is Askaan. The god of light and justice. He is the one they build temples to, the one they worship, the one they pray to. His domain is the world of humans and their spirits. He decides which children shall be born, and when everyone should die. The Other god is … is not a true god. That’s what the Askaanian priests teach in their temples. They say he is the opposite of Askaan. A being not of divinity, but of darkness. Most towns have a priest of the Other, but they’re there as a sort of … safeguard. To keep the Other out. No churches are built for the god of the Other. People don’t pray to or worship him. They fear him. His name is never spoken. He is the god of wild creatures, of miscarried children, of disease and suffering. Some people call him the ‘Wolf’, because it’s said when he comes to his priests in dreams that’s the form he takes.”

  “So you believe your wolf is some aspect of a god? The god of the Other?”

  “It sounds ridiculous when you say it like that. I don’t know. A demon of the Other, maybe? I think that’s what the priests said. But they also called it a curse. I wasn’t able to ask any questions.”

  “I’ve already told you that I don’t believe in curses. I definitely don’t believe in demons. I’ll tell you what I think. There have always been people who have lost control of themselves in battle. History calls them ‘berserkers’ – and you’ve used that word yourself, in fact. In the Book of Rodica, there’s a famous hero called Sedrun. His family was killed before his eyes when he was a child. After that he was adopted into a new family and seemed to be perfectly normal, until a battle when he was in his early teens.

  “When he saw one of his adopted kinsmen fall, he went into his first berserk rage. It’s said that his face swelled to twice its normal size and glowed red, and his hair stood out around his head like spikes. He slaughtered the enemy. More than that, he slaughtered everyone in the enemy camp, even the camp followers, and wounded or unarmed men. He killed their animals and set fire to their tents. His own family didn’t dare to go near him until the rage had dissipated. What does that tell you?”

  “That he was a monster,” I whispered, appalled.

  “No,” Luca said emphatically. “It tells you that Sedrun was so terrified of watching his family die again that his fear transformed him. Took control of him. He destroyed every person who could possibly have been a threat to the ones he loved. Once he had done that, he returned to himself.”

  “That doesn’t make it all right,” I protested. “How could he live with himself? He did such terrible things!”

  “Sedrun’s family called him a hero. They had been losing, and he saved them. After his display, very few people dared to attack them again. That’s not the point, though. What I’m saying is that his berserker rages were linked to fear, to self-preservation. And I think yours are too. You say that the wolf takes control when it sees your blood. For you, the sight of your own blood is the trigger that causes your fear to become overwhelming. We need to teach you to accept that fear and control it. Once you’ve done that, you will be able to accept and control the wolf.”

  “But–but I don’t want that. I don’t want to accept the Wolf. It’s horrible, it’s evil. I want to get rid of it.”

  “I don’t know if that’s possible,” Luca said gently. “The wolf is a part of you.”

  My fingers tore at the rough grass under my legs. “It isn’t. It isn’t a part of me. I’m not like that.”

  “Listen, there may be others out there who can do more for you, who can … lift the curse, or whatever you call it. You don’t have to give up hope of that. But, for the moment, I can try to help you control your berserker rage. That’s better than nothing, isn’t it?”

  I looked up from my handfuls of uprooted grass. He was offering me more help and understanding than anyone ever had. I had to believe in him. “Of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be ungrateful.”

  He pulled a disgusted face. “I don’t want gratitude! I just want you to listen to me and try this. Can you please do that?”

  “I can try.”

  “All right, then. Now, you might not understand the significance of what I’m talking about this minute,” he said patiently; “but it is important. I want you to close your eyes. In your mind, create a sphere – the sphere of space surrounding you. Feel it. It’s yours. Everything inside it belongs to you, every speck of dust, every breath of air.”

  A ring of space that enveloped me? Like a shell of light? It would be … bright. A bright, silvery blue, shining like starlight on snow. Cold. I shivered. There was a squawk and a flutter – birds fighting overhead. My brain seized on the sound, wanting the distraction. I took another deep breath and forced myself to focus on the soothing rumble of Luca’s voice: “… Breathe in slowly. Now out. Breath in. Out. Feel your breath. Feel your body, the weight and strength of it. Feel the life in your body, the light that lives inside you. Try to see it in your mind.”

  The light inside me would be like the light of the sphere. Blue, bright. I could almost feel the chill. The sensation was strangely pleasant in the damp humidity of the day.

  “… See the light flowing through your veins, in your fingertips, your face, your lungs, your legs. Breathe in. Breathe out.”

  I imagined myself flooded with the steady silvery-blue light. It felt startlingly real. I almost believed that if I were to open my eyes, I would see the icy glow showing through my skin, lighting me from the inside out.

  “You have doubts and fear. They give you a sick, clutching feeling in your chest and stomach, don’t they? Those feelings are a shadow inside you, a darkness that muffles the light. Take a deep breath, and suck that shadow, all that darkness, down, deep into the pit of your stomach. Can you see it?”

  I nodded. As I breathed in, I could see the long, tangled threads of darkness unravelling from the delicate tracery of veins and bones; I was drawing it away from where it blocked out the silvery light. It gathered in the centre of my body. The negative emotions – anger, fear, sorrow, pain – struggled and fought there, clenching together like a black vaporous fist.

  “… Take another deep breath. Now breathe out, long and slow, and imagine that darkness, all those feelings, flowing up out of you, flowing away.”

  I felt the choking blackness travel up out of my throat with my breath; I saw it fill the air like smoke and burn away, torn to rags by the air and the light. The l
ight flowed into the space left behind and flared with new brilliance. For a moment I saw the rippling colours of the Mother’s Fire there: green and purple and vivid turquoise and silver. But the flames had no heat. The silvery-blue light and the peacock shades danced together, beckoning, drawing me in. I wanted to let go, to lose myself in the light…

  Another shiver travelled through my body, making my fingers and toes twitch.

  My daughter…

  My eyes flew open and I slapped my hands flat on the wiry grass. I stared down at them. They were brown. The grass was green. My breath did not cloud in the air. I was safe. I had to be safe.

  Please, please, let me be safe.

  “Are you all right?” I hadn’t heard him move – I never did – but suddenly he was kneeling next to me, one hand coming to rest lightly on my back. “What happened?”

  What had happened?

  It had to have been my imagination again, like last night at the fire. That was the only explanation. I was new at this and I’d become scared and … and that was all.

  “I don’t know,” I said, truthfully enough. “I saw the light, like you said. It was … strange.”

  Luca rubbed my back: an absent, comforting gesture. Instead of shrugging away from that touch, I found I wanted to lean in it.

  “That’s a good sign,” he said. “It means you went deep into yourself. I think you did well, especially for a first time.”

  His praise brought heat flooding into my cheeks, banishing the chill brought on by the strange trance. I ducked my head and found myself staring at the warm golden skin of his throat, revealed by his carelessly laced shirt. The muscles of his chest and arm bulged against the fine material of the garment. His touch on my back seemed to radiate warmth. Another shiver went through me, but it was not the cold that shook my body this time.

  “Frost?”

  I looked straight up into his eyes. Everything I was feeling must have shown on my face. I heard his sharp intake of breath.

  His hand curled against the curve of my spine, fingertips grazing the bare skin above the waist of my breeches. I shuddered. He repeated my name, and this time … this time it was different.

  His face moved closer to mine. His breath was on my face. Then we were kissing, hot, moist lips clinging together. Unthinkingly, I pressed my body into his. The hand on my back fisted, drawing my shirt tightly across my breasts. I gasped, my own hands clenching on my knees, longing to touch him but not quite brave enough.

  He released me so abruptly that I fell back on my heels. “I shouldn’t have done that.” His voice was low, almost harsh. “It isn’t right.”

  The words fell on me like a sudden downpour of snow. In an instant I was transformed from a living, breathing girl into something frozen and cold. Shame made me feel physically sick; clammy sweat sprung up all over my body.

  Oh, Father, what have I done?

  “I’m sorry…” I whispered. My voice came out cracked and hoarse.

  “Frost – Frost – I didn’t mean—” He sounded distraught.

  I shook my head fiercely. “I know.”

  “It’s not your fault. I should have known better.”

  “Don’t.” I scrambled to my feet.

  He rose too, putting out a hand as if to – what? Restrain me? Comfort me? Before his fingers could make contact, there was a conspicuous throat-clearing from somewhere near by. We both jumped. It was the first time I’d ever seen Luca taken by surprise – which only made me feel worse. We both turned to see Arian standing in the shade of the tent, his eyes fixed firmly on his boot-tips.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” he said, sounding anything but. “Two of the scouts have come back with number-reports for you, Luca. I thought you’d want to speak to them as soon as possible.”

  Luca seemed to hesitate. He did not look at me. Then he nodded decisively. “You’re right. Where are they?”

  “I sent them to Livia. They took a tumble down a rock face on the way back. Nothing serious, but they both have some bruises and scrapes I thought it best to have seen to.”

  “Good thinking. I’ll … go then.” He turned to look at me. I fixed my eyes on the dirt.

  “Could you take over for me here for a while?” I heard him ask Arian. “Test Frost’s reflexes, show her some basic blocks?”

  There was a pause, then a reluctant, “If you think it would be helpful.”

  “It would,” Luca said firmly. “Frost, we’re going to speak as soon as I’ve dealt with this.”

  I didn’t respond. After a moment I heard him sigh. He walked away, leaving me and Arian alone in the clearing.

  The quiet stretched out. Humiliation made my belly clench. Arian must have seen what had happened. He must have. His promise to Luca to teach me was nothing more than a way to get Luca away from me, I was sure. I waited for the sound of his footsteps leaving.

  Arian cleared his throat again. “All right. Take up a defensive position.”

  I raised my eyes from the ground. “Wh–what?”

  “Do you have cloth for ears? Get ready to defend yourself.”

  The look in his glacial eyes was annoyed and impatient, but there was no trace of gloating or – worse – pity. He was serious. Slowly, my limbs stiff and heavy, I arranged myself with feet braced a shoulder-length apart. Arian moved to stand opposite. He looked at me critically and then grunted in what could have been approval or disparagement.

  “Block!” His fist shot towards my face.

  I jerked back just in time, arms wheeling for balance.

  “I said block, not dodge,” he snapped.

  “I d–don’t know how.” I held my hands up in protest. My emotions were already in turmoil and I was mortally afraid I was going to cry.

  He spun, one leg flying out in a lethal, fluid movement.

  I darted away again. “I said, I don’t know how!”

  There was no mistaking the contempt on his face now. “I’m not Luca. You can drop your lost, helpless little girl act.”

  “What are you talking about?” I edged warily away from him.

  He followed. “I haven’t forgotten how you fought in that valley, even if he has. I know how strong and fast you are. I’ve no intention of standing here pretending to teach you what you already know.”

  Luca had not told Arian the truth about me and the Wolf then. I didn’t know whether to be grateful for his discretion or worried that he’d kept my curse a secret from the man who he called his brother. Maybe he was already regretting asking me to come here.

  If wasn’t before, I bet he is now. I had made both of us ridiculous, practically throwing myself at his feet when he had only meant to be a friend to me. Oh Father, when did I get so stupid?

  Arian lunged at me again and my thoughts scattered in alarm. I turned to run.

  He grabbed me from behind, wrapping both his tree-trunk arms around my midriff and pinning my hands to my sides. His breath panted against the side of my face. I tried to shrug him off, but his grip on my forearms only tightened.

  Stay quiet. Don’t fight. Stay out of trouble.

  “Break my hold,” he growled in my ear. “Go on. Show me what you can really do.”

  A worm of panic squirmed through me. “This is stupid. Just let me g–go.”

  “Your play-acting doesn’t impress me. If you want me to let go, make me.”

  I stamped on his foot and heard his pained wheeze as I ground my full weight down on his toes. But his grip didn’t loosen.

  “You’ll need to do better than that.”

  I snapped my head back. He shifted just in time to avoid a broken nose.

  “That’s more like it,” I heard him say distantly. There was a hint of warmth, maybe even satisfaction, in his voice now, and that sent my fear surging to a new peak. He was enjoying this. His grip tightened; his lower body was pressing into mine. For an instant I felt as if were on the ground, a heavy body crushing me. I tasted stale sweat on my tongue.

  Don’t fight.

  No, no,
not again, not again.

  My last thread of control snapped. I thrashed and kicked, throwing my weight forward, head whipping from side to side. I thought I felt him shifting a little, bracing himself against my struggles. I thought I heard him speak. But I was too far gone to take note.

  Stay quiet. Don’t fight. Stay out of trouble.

  I screamed.

  Arian’s grip loosened at the exact moment that Luca and Livia walked around the corner of Luca’s tent. I fell to my knees and scrambled away from Arian, images from my past flashing before my eyes and mixing dizzily with the present.

  The blood.

  Livia’s flushed, furious face, her voice raised, the words running together with anger.

  The blood in my mouth. In my hair, on my dress. Flecks of bone, of wet, grey matter. All over me. I could taste it. Father, Father, please help me.

  Luca leaned over me, reaching out, and I cringed away from him. His face went white, eyes turning into dark holes of rage. He stalked across the clearing to where Livia faced Arian, drew his fist back and knocked Arian down with one blow.

  My hands. My hands were covered in blood. I scrubbed them down the front of my dress, but the dress was sodden too. It wouldn’t come off. Too late. Too late to take it back.

  I didn’t mean to.

  “Frost?” That was Livia’s voice, quiet now, and gentle. I looked up, blinking away the vision of red, to see her crouched before me. “You’re all right. It’s all right. No one’s going to hurt you.”

  “I don’t know what happened,” I heard Arian say, low and shaken. “I just … I don’t know…”

  Arian was sat on the ground. Luca towered over him, hands fisted. Arian’s hands were open, held out in front of him, and he was staring at them as if they didn’t belong to him.

  As if they were covered in blood.

  He looked up at me. He seemed as shocked as I felt.

  “Just ignore him,” Livia said, helping me up. “Luca will deal with him. You come with me. You’ll feel much better after a cup of tea.”

  Behind me, I heard Arian’s whisper, “I didn’t mean to.”