FrostFire

by Zoe Marriott

  He reached for me again. I jumped to the side, avoiding his hands, and stamped, intending to crush his foot. But his foot wasn’t there any more. He pivoted and grabbed me from behind, wrapping his arms around me in a bear hug. His body pressed against my back. It was the same position that had made me panic before.

  “All right?” he asked, too quietly for anyone else to hear.

  I nodded. My heart had sped up, but for the moment I had control.

  “Then show me how you would break this hold.”

  My upper arms were pinned to my sides, but my forearms and hands were free. It took another deep breath for me to gain the courage to squirm around until I could get one hand behind me and—

  Arian let go instantly and leaped back. His eyes had gone wide and his mouth was agape.

  Under cover of the hooting and applause from the other hill guards – Livia was doubled up, choking with laughter, face bright red – I said, “Didn’t think I’d dare, did you?”

  “I’m just thankful you didn’t have a knife,” he said, folding his arms. “The lesson here is supposed to be that you have to avoid getting caught by a stronger fighter. Use your speed. Use your wits. Just make sure they don’t get hold of you. If someone does, aiming for the … uh … sensitive areas is a good strategy. Let’s start again.”

  “Can I interrupt?”

  I turned to see Luca standing on the edge of the sparring ground.

  Arian’s arms dropped to his sides. He nodded at Luca wordlessly and walked away. I watched him go with regret as the rest of the crowd dispersed, still catcalling and laughing. There was a stiffness, a distance, between him and Luca. They still weren’t comfortable with each other. It was my fault, but I couldn’t figure out how to fix it.

  “What do you need me for?” I asked Luca, trying to sound cheerful, normal.

  He grinned mischievously, taking me by surprise. I couldn’t help smiling back, and my own internal tension eased a little.

  “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

  “What kind of a surprise?”

  “It would hardly be surprising if I told you, would it?” he said. “Come and see.”

  He led me back to his tent, and held the flap open for me to enter. “Notice anything … new?”

  I looked around. My little corner was as I had left it that morning: furs and blankets neatly piled up, screen drawn back. Luca’s bed was carefully made as normal. The chairs, the rugs, the tapestries, were all as they had been. The table…

  There was an axe on the table. A wooden axe.

  I stepped closer, fascinated. It was fashioned from some light, nearly grainless wood that had been sanded until it was smooth and shining. It was almost the same shape as my father’s axe, which Luca had taken away from me on the first day I had begun training with a practice sword. The wooden axe’s curved blade and sharp pick had been cushioned with wrappings of cloth. It looked like something you would give to a child. A very big, very violent child.

  “I–is this for me?”

  “You’ve been progressing well in the drills with sword and staff, but I know you love your axe. This way you can practise without risking your – or anyone else’s – safety.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” My hands reached out, but hovered just above the object.

  “You can touch it,” Luca said, stepping past me and picking it up with one hand. He held it out for me to take.

  I nearly dropped it. The thing was at least three times as heavy as Da’s axe, and that was made of oak, with steel blades and reinforced with iron.

  “It’s weighted,” Luca said.

  “Oh? I hadn’t noticed!” I grunted, heaving it back up with both hands this time.

  “We made the stave hollow, and filled it with lead. It will help to develop your fighting muscles and increase your speed – for when you use your real axe,” Luca said. “Don’t you … I mean – do you like it?” I thought there was the faintest trace of disappointment in his voice.

  Happiness broke through the surprise and I turned to look at him, cheeks aching with the width of my smile. “Of course I do. I just – I can’t believe you went to so much trouble! Can I practise now?”

  Luca laughed, relief clear on his face. “I don’t see why not.”

  After that, axe practice was added to the sword and staff drills that I did with the rest of the hill guard. It was the most demanding of all the training I did. At first, five minutes wielding the weighted axe was enough to leave me gasping, arms trembling and weak, back on fire. But I was used to hard work, and with good food and plenty of rest each day I adjusted with nearly unnatural speed. If some of that was the Wolf’s doing, I tried to ignore it.

  My shoulders and upper arms had began to bulge against the fabric of my uniform shirts. The second morning that Luca heard me cursing and muttering as I strove to pull breeches on over legs that had become solid with muscle, he took me back to Atiyah and had her measure me again. Her cursing and muttering as she realized she would need to adjust my special suit of armour put mine to shame.

  “Too slow!” Luca said, his wooden practice sword knocking lightly against my collarbone. He always pulled his blows so as not to hurt me, but still, the impact made me grunt.

  Droplets of sweat flew everywhere as I shook my head. “I can’t get that pass right. I don’t know why. I always hesitate on the upswing. I feel as if I’m going to lose the axe.”

  “You need to have more confidence,” Luca said. He raised his arm, the muscles revealed by his sleeveless tunic bunching as he wiped a thin sheen of moisture off his forehead. His hair was drawn back into a high horse-tail today, to keep it off the nape of his neck. The skin on his shoulders, the bridge of his nose and his cheeks was burning a deeper gold under the midday sun. Summer was coming, and the heat had driven off all the spectators to our sparring, even Livia, who tended to hover around as if I were a baby chick that might be crushed at any moment.

  “The problem is that you’re holding yourself back. You won’t lose control of the axe – you just need to believe that. Start again, slowly this time. Follow the pattern, let your movements flow.”

  I shrugged my shoulders resignedly, then stepped forward to began the drill again.

  Axe diagonally across the torso to counter Luca’s overhand swing. Twist sideways to avoid a body kick. Axe down to deflect a gut thrust. Spin to gain momentum for a neck blow. Turn again when the neck blow is deflected, this time jabbing at the face with the head of the axe. Catch Luca’s practice blade on the pick of the axe. Shift weight to the back foot and heave—

  Luca’s sword went flying.

  “Keep going!” he shouted as I froze, staring at the fallen sword in disbelief. “Finish the pattern.”

  I gulped, swinging my axe in a double-handed crescent cut that, even with the wooden blade, would have the power to break Luca’s neck. I stopped the blow an inch from connecting, and brought the axe back to guard position.

  Luca grinned. One arm snaked around and caught my shoulder, tugging me towards him for a brief hug. I turned sideways to avoid poking him with the axe and ended up mashed awkwardly into his chest, the tip of my nose brushing the soft fair hair at the base of his throat. The smell of honeysuckle and warm skin made my breath stop in my throat.

  “That’s how it’s done,” he said, voice rumbling through me.

  Then he let go. I allowed the head of the axe to drop and stared down at it, pretending a fascination with the cloth-wrapped pick as I muttered, “I need to speed up.”

  “Eventually, but if you can get it right slow, then getting it right fast is just a matter of practice. You know what I’m going to say now, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” I felt the heat in my cheeks fading as we went back to safe, businesslike talk. I brought the axe back up into guard position as Luca bent to get his sword. “Start again from the beginning.”

  “Good girl,” he said. “You’re learning.”

  In addition to the rigorous physical training,
I spent at least an hour every day sitting in the clearing behind Luca’s tent, slipping into the strange trance-like state that Luca thought would allow me to gain control of the Wolf. This soon became my least favourite part of the day.

  “Your body is full of light,” Luca said. “Imagine it pushing out through your pores, drifting in the air around you, filling the sphere. Can you see it? Nod if you can.”

  I nodded. I could feel the light pressing through my skin, silver filaments, fine as hair, piercing the air around me like rays of icy starlight. I shivered. Any moment now—

  Saram. My daughter.

  I had learned not to gasp, not to snap my eyes open and check for colours. I blocked out the inner voice by concentrating on the itch forming at the small of my back, where sweat was starting to dampen my new uniform shirt. On the tiny strand of hair that had worked free of my braid and was tickling my face. I listened for noises in the camp, sorting through the distant voices and putting names to the ones I knew. My awareness of the silver-blue light faded, and the Wolf’s traitorous, lying voice faded with it.

  I peeked under my lashes at Luca and saw that he was staring at me, brows furrowed. I hadn’t noticed when he had stopped talking. I squeezed my eyes shut again.

  “I think that’s enough for now,” he said, after a moment. “Come back.”

  I opened my eyes, feeling guilty as I blinked and yawned, pretending I really was waking from a deep trance. Luca sat in silence as I stretched out my arms and legs, then he asked, “Did you see or hear anything today?”

  I concealed my startled jump with another yawn. “Hear anything? Hear what?”

  “I don’t know. I hoped that some inner part of you would start to make itself known. That you would feel or sense or remember something that would help us to understand your berserk rage.”

  Don’t let him see it. Don’t let him see the lie…

  “All I see is light,” I said, a little stiffly, filling my mind with thoughts of smooth grey river stones to try and keep my face blank. “Just bright, silvery-blue light, like before. I don’t hear anything.”

  Luca stood, offering me his hand. The day was hot, but my skin was icy cold, so I acted as if I had not seen the gesture and hopped to my feet unaided. By the time I was upright, he had dropped his hand, and was giving me that same searching look.

  “If you do remember, or feel anything, no matter how odd or frightening it might seem, you will tell me, won’t you? Even if it seems foolish. It’s important.”

  I hesitated for a second, wanting more than anything to spill out my worries to him. It’s the Wolf I see and hear. It’s the Wolf that’s making itself known. I’m afraid we’re making things worse.

  But I couldn’t do it. Luca honestly believed that this was the way to help me. How was I supposed to confess to him that when I went into myself, the Wolf was all I found? I didn’t even want to admit that to myself. The Wolf was a curse. A demon. A killer. Every bad thing that had ever happened to me and my mother had been the Wolf’s doing. It was not a part of me. It couldn’t be. If it was, then I ought to have burned nine years ago.

  I was learning how to fight, and getting stronger and faster every day. My special armour, which would leave no chink for an enemy to penetrate and spill my blood, was nearly ready. For the first time I felt like I had a place, a good place, that was mine. If the price of keeping that place was faking my way through these sessions with Luca, then it was a price I was willing to pay. So I nodded, refusing to meet his eyes.

  He sighed. “Maybe tomorrow.”

  Seventeen

  Arian stood at the top of the steep, rocky slope, quarterstaff in hand. His eyes were narrowed against the sun, and his shoulders were tense with determination.

  I looked down at my hands, clad in a pair of soft, flexible doe-skin gloves. The backs of the gloves, down to the wrist, have been reinforced with an elongated triangle of fine chainmail, and then covered in more leather. Atiyah had explained that this would allow me to deflect a blow without risking the skin beneath the leather. The knuckles had been reinforced with metal caps, padded on the inside. Leather vambraces, splinted with metal strips, buckled onto my forearms. Over the top of these I had a leather tunic which laced up at the sides and covered me to the elbow. The shoulder parts were made of many thin strips of leather; each had been reinforced with metal and curved, so that when I moved my arm they slid back. At my throat, I wore a wide leather collar, strengthened with small metal studs. My trusty old boots, which had come with me from Uskaand, were the only thing of my own fit to be part of this outfit, and even they had been polished and oiled and fitted with new buckles.

  Atiyah had washed the armour in a substance made of charcoal and oil, which gave it a bluish sheen, and tooled designs of frost and stars, intricate and spiralling, onto the breast-piece and vambraces. “The frost is for you. The stars are for good luck,” she had explained. “The Mother watches over her own.”

  It would have been rude to point out that I was not one of the Mother’s own. I hadn’t taken part in a single one of the gatherings since the evening that Luca asked me to sing. Those strange, cold-looking flames unnerved me. Like Luca’s teachings, they made me feel the Wolf’s presence too keenly.

  The armour was comfortable, surprisingly so, but it was heavy. Six weeks ago I would barely have been able to stand in it and even now I didn’t know if I would be able to move fast enough to dodge Arian’s stave.

  Luca, who was seated cross-legged on top of a large boulder near the middle of the slope, noticed my apprehension. “We need to find out if there are any problems with the leathers, if they restrict or pinch you in a fight. And watching you spar with Arian will help me pinpoint any weaknesses in your technique, too. The object here is to disarm him without getting hurt.”

  “Are we standing around all day, or are we fighting?” Arian called from the top of the slope. “Come on! I promise not to break any bones.”

  “Yours or Frost’s?” Luca called back, laughing. The two of them seemed to be getting back to normal, and I was glad. “Start whenever you want.”

  I took a deep breath, and began walking up the uneven ground towards Arian. I could feel his eyes tracking me: a leopard stalking a deer.

  Suddenly he let out a battle roar and leaped downhill. The staff jabbed at my face. I spun sideways and the staff touched only air. Arian flipped the stave overhand. I ducked. He swept the staff at my legs two-handed. I leaped over the blow, landed on one leg, pivoted and finished up behind him. The ground slid and crunched underfoot, and dust clouded around us.

  “Good!” Luca called. “Always try for the higher ground. But be more aggressive! You can only dodge for so long; get some hits in!”

  Arian had already turned. Again he swiped at my legs with the stave. I jumped into a roundhouse kick, aiming for his head. He dodged back just in time. I landed on my other foot, ducked under the sweep of the staff and then kicked out sideways.

  My boot thudded into Arian’s stomach. He grunted and stumbled, struggling to find his balance as the dry ground slid away underfoot. I threw a punch, clipping him on the jaw. His head snapped back, but his staff came up. The metal cap drove into my stomach.

  I reeled back with a grunt. My heel hit a hollow in the ground. I went down, sliding on my backside, a cascade of earth and small rocks rolling down the hillside ahead of me. Arian hastily got out of the way. I slapped both hands on the ground, rolled and came up plastered in dry earth that stung my eyes and clogged my throat.

  “One each,” Arian said. His eyes were shining – the look I had learned to think of as a kind of hidden smile. He was enjoying this. In a strange way, I was too.

  I coughed up some dust and managed to gasp, “Wrong. Two for me.”

  “That little nudge with your fist doesn’t count. You pulled it.”

  “He’s right. One each,” Luca shouted. “Less talking, more fighting.”

  Arian spun the stave one-handed, shifting his weight back onto his left
leg. I watched warily, guessing he was about to try a jump-kick. I braced to move to the right. Then he charged, swinging his weapon overhand. Caught off guard, I hesitated a second too long to dodge. Instinctively I brought my left arm up to shield my head.

  The staff hit my lightly armoured wrist with a thud.

  The impact resounded through leather and metal into bone. I yelled, and my cry of pain, blurring in my ears, stretched out into a long, piercing howl. My right hand shot up without my leave. My fingers closed around the stave. I felt a pulse of cold.

  Arian’s weapon snapped in two with an echo like a lightning strike. The splintered pieces fell from his fists.

  We both stood motionless. I stared at the broken staff on the ground and shivered. Slowly and fearfully I lifted my eyes to Arian’s face. He was smiling, revealing a deep dimple in his left cheek that I had never noticed before. “Luca’s been teaching you his tricks.”

  “I d–don’t – um – what? You’re not angry?”

  His eyebrows knotted. “Why should I be?”

  “B–because” – I took a quick breath – “I ruined your staff.”

  “I can always get a new one. Are you smashing rocks yet?”

  “No.” My legs were wobbly and my head was thick and stuffy. I couldn’t make sense of his words. “Why would I try to do that?”

  “Because I can,” Luca said, walking up the slope towards us. “If I want to. Which I don’t very often, because it’s silly. What you did to Arian’s staff was all part of the technique I’ve been teaching you, Frost. When you concentrate your body’s energy, focus it and channel it, you can do extraordinary things.” He gave me a brilliant, happy look. I could see the relief in it. “You’ve progressed further than I realized. I was worried … but never mind now. Let me have a look at your arm.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  Arian cut me off. “That was a nasty blow. It needs checking.”