FrostFire

by Zoe Marriott

  “Do you know anything about the edible plants and fungi of this country?” he asked, still looking at the roof.

  I pulled a face. “It can’t be that different from Uskaand. Or I could try to catch a fish.”

  Arian sighed, then rolled onto his side and cautiously pushed himself up into a sitting position. He made no sound, but his clenched jaw and the film of sweat that sprang up on his face made it obvious how much effort the movement had cost him.

  “Idiot. You’d poison both of us in your efforts to distract me. We’re not staying here, so put it out of your mind.”

  “Do you have any idea how terrible you look? You won’t make it a mile in this state – and it might be fifty back to the old campsite. Why can’t you just be sensible?”

  “I’m fine. I’ve survived a lot worse than this little bump.”

  “I know,” I said grimly.

  Instead of growling at me as I’d half expected, he gave me a wry smile. “Yes. So try and be sensible yourself for once. We need to find the others. We don’t have any hunting gear, or any food, and neither of us can forage well enough to keep us going for many days. I’m not going to get any better lying here until I starve to death. The first step is for me to try and figure out where we are. Then we can decide what to do next. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” I said grudgingly.

  “Good. Now let’s get moving. The sooner we get out of this cave the better.”

  “Bossy, bossy,” I muttered, crawling out from under the overhang onto the open sand.

  “Says the woman who was pinning me to the ground last night,” Arian called after me.

  The sun was coming up into a long bank of thin, hazy clouds, and I was grateful for its warmth on my aching flesh. My stiff, damp breeches and boots would soon dry out properly. I laced my shirt and rolled up the sleeves, then knelt creakingly down to drink from the river. I heard shuffling noises and a couple of swear words as Arian dragged himself out of the cave behind me. Then there was a splashing as he followed my example, drinking and then splashing his face with handfuls of the icy water.

  “How’s your head?” he asked. “I never did look at it.”

  “A bit sore,” I admitted.

  “Your hair is full of blood. You ought to try and wash some of it out. It’ll attract insects.”

  “Eugh.” Suddenly unravelling my damp, knotted hair seemed like much less of a bother.

  After a few minutes of vigorous and painful scrubbing, I wrung out the thick rope of hair and bent my head forward for Arian to examine my scalp. His blunt fingers probed carefully. A memory of Luca brushing my hair drifted through my mind, filling me with such confused emotions that I could barely separate pleasure from worry and embarrassment.

  You are all right, aren’t you, Luca? Father, please let him be all right…

  “There are some nasty deep scratches,” Arian said, breaking into my thoughts. “You need these cleaned out as soon as possible. Livia will probably want to stitch one or two of them. Can you rebraid your hair over the top? Then the flies won’t to be able to get in.”

  I shuddered. “Yes. I can definitely do that.”

  When I’d achieved a braid that pulled my wet hair over the worst of the scratches, I retrieved my axe, gave the blades – washed clean of blood by the river – a quick rub with the loose tail of my shirt and then put on my still clammy armoured jerkin and the axe-harness, which had only warped a little. The weight of the weapon made my back ache, but there was no chance I was leaving it behind. Lastly I buckled my vambraces and put on the gloves, which, though still damp, were wearable. My leather choker was almost completely dry, but it had shrunk and cracked and the metal studs were popping out. I reluctantly discarded it. Meanwhile, Arian was fastening his shirt and carefully pulling on his own jerkin. I resisted the urge to help. He wouldn’t appreciate it.

  I approached the bank that curved around the little inlet, took two handfuls of the thick, coarse vegetation that grew over the edges, dug the tip of my boot in for traction, and heaved myself up onto the top. I tested the solidity of the ground with a few stamps, then leaned down and held my hands out to Arian.

  He followed my path, grabbing my hands for the final pull that got him up over the edge. He was breathing heavily when he straightened up, and as he let go he made as if to touch his head, but checked the movement. Once again, I suppressed the urge to scold. I’d already seen that it made no difference. Instead I turned away to study the landscape that now lay before us. The bank sloped up for about a hundred yards before being hidden in the trees, and behind them I could see the shapes of the mountains. They didn’t look as far away as I’d expected.

  “Any thoughts on where we might be?” I asked.

  “We’ve been lucky. I’m sure this is still the Mesgao. I recognize that ridge, and I’d say we’re only a day’s hard tramp from the campsite. We might even meet the others on the way.”

  “Then I suppose we should get going,” I said.

  I chose to walk on Arian’s left and slightly behind him; I kept a careful eye on his gait so that if he staggered or fell I could at least try to catch him. The bank was not steep compared to most of the trails in the mountains, but by the time we reached the trees Arian’s breathing was uneven.

  “I just need to hit my stride,” he said, without looking at me, as we moved into the shade of the forest. “Stop fussing.”

  I rolled my eyes and pushed ahead of him, tramping down the undergrowth and holding back branches as unobtrusively as possible. He gave me a couple of annoyed looks, but didn’t ask me to stop, and that added to my worry. It was a steady uphill climb through the trees. Within an hour or so the rising sun had made the air humid and sticky and Arian’s face had taken on that worrying ashen look again.

  I wanted to urge him to stop and rest, but I was sure if I suggested it he would shrug it off and walk faster just to prove he could. I began to listen for the sounds of a brook or stream. Drinking was a reason to stop that he wouldn’t be able to ignore.

  By my reckoning it was nearly another hour before I picked up the sound of water ahead. Arian’s progress had slowed more and more – he had begun to walk with his hands slightly extended in front of him, as if he expected to fall. The tiny brook bubbled up swiftly out of a rocky fissure in the side of the hill, and as soon as we reached it Arian sat down on one of the sun-warmed rocks near by. That more than anything told me how exhausted he must be.

  “Stubborn, prideful fool,” I muttered under my breath as I stripped off my gloves and hung them from my belt.

  I examined the fissure, reassured by the coloured lichen and moss growing on the rocks. This was a sign that the water was good. I picked a large, waxy leaf off one of the bushes that were thriving around the brook and rolled it up into a tight cone shape, then let some of the water flow into it. Once I had filled the leaf I sniffed the water, dipped my finger in and tasted it. No strong metallic taste or residue on my tongue. Good.

  I carried the water back to Arian. “Try to drink.”

  “Not an invalid,” he said shortly. But he took the leaf and drained it in two gulps.

  “More?”

  He nodded. I refilled the leaf cone and brought it back. Again he gulped the water down. After a moment he laid back, putting his forearm over his eyes. I sat on the ground and leaned on the rock, pillowing my cheek on folded arms. Arian’s wheezy breaths seemed to even out, and I thought there was a hint of healthier colour in his face now.

  “I can feel you watching. Again.”

  “It’s not often I get the chance to look at such a rare pig head,” I said, trying to keep the anxiety out of my voice. “I’m making the best of it.”

  “It’s a good thing you’ve got those eyes,” he muttered a little sleepily. “Otherwise your mouth would scare all your lovers away.”

  I snorted. “It’s a good thing you’ve got a skull like a rock, or your soft brain would have been beaten to a pulp by now.”

  “It’s a good t
hing you’re here,” he said softly. “Or…”

  “Or?” I said, after a minute had gone by.

  A tiny snuffle answered me. He had fallen asleep.

  I leaned my forehead on my arms, closing my eyes, and let myself drift for a few minutes. Then one of Ma’s sayings drifted into my mind. If someone had a head injury and kept falling asleep, it could be a bad sign. I lifted my head and squinted at Arian’s face. He looked peaceful enough, but how were you supposed to tell a natural sleep from something more sinister?

  I stood up, leaning my hip against the edge of the rock as I gently pressed his shoulder. “Arian. Wake up.”

  Reassuringly, his eyes blinked open at once. He focused on me without difficulty. “Did I…? Sorry.” He sat up carefully, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “If you’re really tired then you should sleep, but we need to find somewhere with better cover,” I said, feeling guilty.

  Arian opened his mouth as if to deny that he was the slightest bit tired, but apparently something in my eye warned him against it. He shrugged. “I suppose I’m not as young as I used to be.”

  “Oh no, old greybeard. It must be a struggle to keep up with us youngsters, as ancient as you are.”

  “I’m twenty,” he said, with dignity. “When I was your age I’d have shaken that blow off like a bee sting.”

  “Of course you would,” I agreed calmly. “And you could sprout wings to drop rocks on your enemies’ heads as well. You knocked me out handily the day we met, and it took me two days to recover. And … I’ve an advantage you don’t.”

  “Advantage…?”

  I sat down on the rock next to him when his voice trailed off. “The Wolf.”

  “You called it that last night. Is that how you think of your battle rage?”

  I nodded silently. I didn’t intend to confide the full story of my curse to him, not here and not now. The truce between us still felt fragile, and only Luca could have accepted my mad ravings about gods and demons with barely the blink of an eye.

  Arian was right when he said that Luca acted as if he were immortal.

  I had a sudden vision of Luca falling, hurt, blood seeping onto his uniform. My chest seemed to contract. I had to gasp quietly for breath as panic tried to overwhelm me.

  Arian frowned at me. “What’s the matter?”

  I tried to laugh. The sound was feeble, and more telltale than a sob. “No, nothing. I was – I was thinking about Luca and about what you said before – that he … he has no fear. He needs us there, to remind him that he’s human. And we’re here instead. I can’t – what if—” My voice cut off.

  Arian said softly, “I’ve been trying to keep him safe for years. Sometimes it feels as if I’m working against him, because the confidence he has, the faith … after everything he’s been through, it’s almost frightening.”

  “He’s not like us, is he?” I said, staring down at my rough, scarred hands. “It’s as if people – normal people – are made of silver. Shiny to start with, but tarnished by time, by ill-treatment. Luca … Luca is gold. Nothing in the world could ever make him shine less brightly.”

  “You understand him,” Arian said, sighing. “That’s good.”

  Was it? Was it really good for me to know just how wide a gap lay between Luca and me, how mismatched we were? Could any love survive that great a disparity, even the love of a person like Luca? Because I wasn’t normal. I wasn’t silver. I had never been bright and shiny and clean.

  I was base metal.

  What if Luca wore himself out trying to turn me into gold?

  Arian shifted closer to me on the rock, as if offering reassurance. “Frost … don’t worry so much all the time. You’ll wear yourself out.”

  I laughed again, a better laugh this time. Grateful for the distraction, I turned to look at him. “You’re the last one in the world who should be giving that advice!”

  He was closer than I had realized. I could see the tiny brownish-grey flecks in his eyes, and the dark green ring around the iris, and for the first time I realized that they were beautiful. Arian was beautiful. Perhaps in his own way as beautiful as Luca.

  In the next moment his big, rough, fingers cupped my face. He brought our lips together, taking possession of my mouth. Shock – and something else, something guilty and excited that made me squirm – thrilled through me. I put a hand up blindly, and my palm found his heart. I could feel its fast, erratic rhythm. He was shaking.

  I pushed at him. He resisted, fingers tightening on my face. Instantly fear overwhelmed shock. I smacked both my hands against his chest, bracing myself to struggle in earnest.

  He released me.

  I stared up at him. He was breathing hard, but his expression was indecipherable. I couldn’t tell if he was angry, embarrassed or disappointed. I couldn’t tell if I was angry, embarrassed or disappointed.

  Disappointed?

  Before either of us could say anything, a strange voice called out: “Well, well – it looks like we’re interrupting something!”

  Twenty-four

  I jerked away from Arian and scrambled to my feet on the rock. Da’s axe seemed to leap into my hand with a will of its own. I turned to face the speaker.

  It was a man. A Sedorne. He stood on the hill above the brook, one hand casually propped on his sword hilt. He was about thirty, I thought, and tall, with a slim, well-muscled frame. He seemed familiar. Something about the shape of his face? Or his confident, graceful posture? It made me want to relax, as if he were a friend.

  Until I met his eyes. They were a striking, clear, greyish blue, emphasized by the severe way his pale hair was braided back from his face. Something dark – no, more than just dark, gleeful – lurked behind those eyes. I had seen that look before. In Ulem’s eyes. In Werrick’s. This was no friend of mine. A long, cold shudder worked down my back.

  As I watched, more Sedorne soldiers began to appear through the trees, ranging themselves beside the first. Four, five, six… I counted twelve, thirteen including the speaker. A stealthy rustle in the vegetation behind me told me there were others too. We were already surrounded. Surrounded while I had been letting Arian kiss me. Why had he done that? Why on earth had I let him, even for a second?

  Father, forgive me for being so stupid.

  These men had to be rebels. They were all pale-skinned and mostly light-haired; although they were cleaner, better armoured and better armed than the ones I had seen before. There were two crossbows aimed at us. Or rather, I realized, aimed at Arian, who still sat motionless on the rock behind me.

  The man with the wicked eyes laughed. It was a bubbling, infectious sound, one that would have made me want to laugh too, if I hadn’t been rigid with fear.

  “Finally found yourself a lady-love, Arian?” he said. “I never thought I’d see the day. Not when you’ve been following Luca around like a lost puppy for so long. Why don’t you introduce me to her? Or better yet, why don’t you tell me where dear Luca is?”

  They know each other. I flicked a quick glance at Arian. His face was utterly blank, eyes as glacial as the first time I had seen him. Slowly he eased himself to his feet and stood beside me, breathing raggedly.

  “You’re not fit to speak his name,” he said acidly.

  “More fit than a dirty half-breed bastard,” the Sedorne man said, still smiling. “But it doesn’t matter. I’ve been hunting my little brother up and down this mountain for months, and today I am going to find him. Catching you is an unexpected bonus which I fully intend to enjoy. And won’t that break his heart?”

  A cold sweat sprang out over my body. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Arian’s hands curl slowly into fists.

  Little brother.

  Ion Constantin turned his bright gaze on me again. “I’ve no grudge against you, however. You can make it easier on yourself by telling me where you’re going. I’ll find out anyway, you know, but the less annoyed I am when I do, the less you’ll suffer.”

  His tone made it clear that
I was going to suffer anyway. Not because he really wanted or needed information, but because he would enjoy it.

  I looked helplessly at the crossbowmen. We were so grossly outnumbered. Arian was barely able to walk, let alone fight. He didn’t even have a knife. All that stood between him and death was me.

  I could feel my breath speeding up; my heart starting to jump. Fear heightened my senses to an almost painful pitch.

  We’re going to die. There’s nothing I can do.

  Father, what now? How am I supposed to save him?

  Ion was still staring at me, awaiting an answer. Finally, he shrugged and turned his attention back to Arian. “A little slow in the brain, is she? That would explain why she was cosied up with you, I suppose. If she understands Rua, you should tell her to put her axe down now, before I take it from her.”

  A howl rang through the woods.

  Ion was still speaking, saying more poisonous things to Arian. I could barely make out his voice. The Wolf’s cry grew louder, louder, vibrating through my bones. But I was the only one who could hear it.

  Icy cold was seeping into my veins. I blinked, and the clearing was painted in shades of black and silver.

  I haven’t seen blood. This shouldn’t be happening.

  Ion’s face was eager and triumphant now; his voice was raised. The rebels were moving forward, closing in around us.

  Struggling against the rising cold, I managed to catch Arian’s eye.

  “Run.” The word broke and twisted, turning into a deep, rumbling growl.

  Arian stared at me for a second, then threw himself down off the rock, out of my way. I felt a surge of relief that he had understood – and in that instant lost my grip on my body.

  The ice flowed up and surrounded the part of me that was Frost, the part that Luca had called my soul, trapping hopes and thoughts and heart deep inside, where they could only watch without reaching the surface.

  The Wolf awoke.

  Sound flooded the Wolf’s ears and its lips curled back into a sharp grin as it spun the axe in its hands, surveying the group of enemies that approached it. This body knew how to use the axe properly now. This body was stronger and faster than it had ever been.