Visions of the Witch - [Whispers 04]

by Tara West

  Blinking once, she tilted her head. “Do you not remember?”

  “I only recall falling and hitting something hard.” The dull throb in his skull was a constant reminder of that.

  Exhaling, she brushed slender fingers across her pale brow. “You fell through a thinning ice shield and landed on a dragon’s tooth.”

  Markus wondered at these strange words. His father had not mentioned them on their climb. “Ice shield, dragon’s tooth? I don’t like the sound of that.”

  Covering her mouth, Ura muffled a short burst of laughter. “I will explain about dragon teeth first. Rising from the floors of our kingdom are giant, jagged columns of ice, or dragon teeth. Those are what we scale to reach the ice ceilings.”

  Her voice turned more somber. “You were fortunate in landing on the tallest tooth in Ice Kingdom — and the widest. It was why you were not impaled on that tip, which is nearly two men in width.”

  “Aye,” Markus nodded, feeling a sickening sensation in his gut at the thought of his lifeless body falling on top of a giant, spiky tooth.

  Her gaze turned heavenward. “The ice shields protect our kingdom from the heat of the sun and the magic of the Ice Witch.” Glancing suddenly downward, Ura’s jaw tensed and she began to twist the hem of her pale gown with her fingers.

  Markus read fear in her movements. “If the shields are thinning, how are you protected from Madhea?” he asked.

  Her head jerked and something akin to fire shone in her pale eyes. “We have climbers assigned to repair the ice.”

  Sensing that Ura was sensitive to any criticism of her home, Markus thought it best to cease his questioning, but if they were not safe from Madhea, he had to know. “So, this ice through which I fell had not been repaired?”

  “Not yet,” she spoke through a thinning smile.

  Clearing his throat, Markus prepared his next question. He would not be daunted; he had to know. “What if the ice is not repaired in time? Can Madhea harm us with her magic?”

  Ura threw up her hands. “Why do you ask so many questions about our ice?” She leveled him with a heated gaze that would melt the thickest glacier.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Markus had pushed Ura too far. He had not meant to upset her, but he did not wish to live in denial. If the ice was not impenetrable, he would be putting all their lives in danger by staying.

  Standing, Ura turned from him, her back rigid and fists clenched. “Some say it is growing unstable,” she said toward the wall in a strong whisper. “That is why Ryne left. The debates have caused much dissension in our kingdom.”

  Markus swallowed. What if Ice Kingdom was not the strong fortress that Jon described? “And, what of your thoughts, Ura?”

  Spinning on her heel, she strode back to his bed, flashing him a warning glare. Gone was sweet Ura. Harsh lines had replaced soft features. She was no longer a girl, but a woman torn.

  “My thoughts are that you must not speak of it again,” she spat. “The hour is late. I must finish father’s supper, land dweller.”

  Turning away, she marched across the room with rigid steps and lifted the flap to leave.

  “My name is Markus, Ura,” he called, refusing to let their talk end with enmity between them. He knew not how it had happened so quickly, but he needed this girl’s friendship. He did not wish to lose it.

  Exhaling a deep groan, Ura turned, brushing a palm across her forehead. “You must get some rest, Markus.” A slight smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “I will bring your broth soon.”

  *

  “Wake up, Markus.”

  Her breath was a brisk rush of air on his cheek. Markus wanted to stay tucked beneath the warm furs, breathing in the spicy scent of her; feeling the cool aura of her lithe form beside his bed. He knew he could not pretend to be asleep for long, tempting as it was to fake slumber while the icy-haired beauty kept vigil by his side.

  Reluctantly, Markus opened his eyes, blinking slowly as his vision adjusted to the pale light. “I am awake.”

  “I know,” said Ura, flashing a sideways grin. “It is time you ate.”

  She sat down on a narrow chair beside him. Her long, sheer tendrils were pulled back in a knot at the nape of her neck. Markus wished she would let her hair down, so he could better view the pale sheen of her locks.

  Ura held an ivory colored slab on her lap. It was the same size as the wooden tray his mother had used when she needed to carry Alec’s medicines and broth to his bed. Ura picked up a pale-colored bowl off the slab and blew on its rising vapors.

  Markus’ senses were accosted by a strange odor that was pungent, yet sweet, and his gut reacted swiftly; rumbling and pounding against a hollow drum. Despite the strange smell of the broth, Markus knew he must eat. Licking his lips, he pulled himself into a sitting position.

  Wincing at the dull pain that settled in the back of his skull, Markus slowly lifted his good hand to feel the tender spot and was struck by a wave of dizziness. A hard knot, about the size of a robin’s egg, was the source of his misery. Grimacing, he pulled his hand away, realizing he would not be able to rise from his bed with such an injury.

  Ura leaned toward him with the bowl in her hand, scooping up the liquid with an ivory-colored spoon. It was then that Markus was able to peer into the bowl.

  Green slime! His need for food was replaced by the urge to vomit.

  “What is that?”

  “Broth.” She smiled serenely, unaffected by the long trail of snot dangling from the hovering spoon. “You will like it.”

  Markus knew not what possessed him - mayhap it was the softness in her eyes when she smiled or that he was just a bloody fool - but he opened his mouth and let her feed him.

  He gagged the moment a slimy tendril slid down the back of his throat. Like swallowing the entrails of a squashed slug! The taste was even fouler than the feel of it; a sickly sweet blend of rotten eggs and fermented wine.

  “Blah!” he gasped, reaching for the goblet on the slab. He drank until the water was drained, though he could not drink enough to purge the terrible taste from his mouth. “That is horrible!”

  “What?” Ura’s pale eyes darkened as she jutted the bowl just below his chin, nearly sloshing the contents on his chest. “How dare you insult my food!”

  “I’m sorry, but I cannot stomach this slime.” Grasping her slender wrist, Markus eased Ura and the offending broth away.

  “You must eat if you want to get better.” Her pale gaze was steady, unrelenting.

  “If I eat this, I may get worse,” Markus said, and involuntarily belched, nearly choking on the fumes of his bitter breath. “Have you no venison or hare?”

  Her lips turned into a pout, Ura’s gaze fell on the bowl of steaming liquid that she placed on the slab. “I’ve not heard of those plants.”

  “Not plants,” he said, shaking his head, “meat.”

  “Meat?” With one slender brow arched, the girl looked at him with a quizzical expression.

  “Aye.” Markus nodded. “From animals.”

  “Oh!” Her lips formed a perfect ellipse as her eyes flashed with recognition. “We are out. Father and some others have gone to catch lazy-eyed serpents. They will return on the morrow.”

  He shuddered at the image of slurping down slimy, cross-eyed snakes. “Lazy-eyed serpents?”

  Ura nodded, while setting down the slab on a nearby stool. “They are good, soft and sweet.”

  Markus repressed a grimace. How could these Ice People stomach such foul fare - food that did not even require chewing? “Do you have nothing tough and leathery?”

  “Leathery?” Blinking once, Ura tilted her head, her pale lips turned down. “I don’t understand.”

  Groaning, Markus coursed a hand through his hair, clenching a fistful at the roots. How could he make the girl understand what real food should taste like? Then an idea struck him: he had packed some dried meat for his journey. Though not as good as the fresh-salted leg of a roasted boar, surely anything was
better than booger broth.

  “Did my satchel survive the fall?” he asked.

  “You mean the heavy brown bladder you wore on your back?”

  Markus repressed a laugh. It was not a bladder, but made from the fine skin of a large buck he had shot the previous winter.

  “Aye,” he answered, in no mood to teach Ura the difference between bladders and buckskins. “Would you fetch it here?”

  Ura walked to the foot of Markus’ bed and lifted a thick white fur, revealing a large, snow-colored box. Markus could tell by the intricate carvings on the top that it was a chest of some kind, but how odd the color and smooth-looking texture, just like the slab and bowl. Perhaps it was made of a pale rock that only formed beneath Tehra’s surface.

  Ura pulled out his satchel and handed it to him. Markus relished the feel of the bag in his hand. He was relieved to see it had survived the fall. Opening it was trying work with one good arm, but he managed to loosen the strings and find what he needed — meat! His mouth watered as he shook the dried venison from the folded parchment. The bundle fell into his lap and he scooped up a large piece, eagerly biting off the end.

  “Mmm, real food,” he sighed as he chewed. “Here, taste this.” He offered Ura the sawed-off end of his dinner.

  Making a face and wrinkling her nose, she took the venison with the tips of her fingers. Turning the meat in her palm, she examined it with a scowl, as if searching for some unforeseen poison. Finally, she ripped off a small piece, placed it on the tip of her tongue and closed her mouth.

  Markus watched her jaw and slender throat while waiting for her reaction.

  “Ugh! This is horrid,” she said, wiping the offending residue off her tongue.

  Markus wondered if she had even tasted his offering. “Have you gone mad?” he asked, trying not to laugh at her comical face.

  Ura grabbed a goblet of water and took several gulps. “Those spicy sticks will not make you well.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Eat your dragon weed!”

  “Dragon weed?” Markus chuckled. “Is that what you call that snot?”

  Hands on hips, the girl scowled at him. “You are a very ungrateful, insulting man.”

  A rush of heat swept through Markus and settled in his face, causing him to turn his gaze down. She had called him a man. Aye, yet he was anything but. A real man protected those he loved.

  “I am not a man, Ura.”

  “Oh, you look a man to me.”

  The burning in his face intensified. Was she in earnest or was she mocking him? Had she seen through his ruse and known him for a coward? Or had she truly been fooled by his size?

  Markus swallowed back a knot in his throat. “I am only five and ten winters.” He spoke with little conviction. He knew age was not all that mattered. Alec had once told him the mark of a man was in the strength of his heart.

  Markus chanced to gaze at Ura’s pale features. She was eyeing him through slitted eyes, her slender arms folded across her chest.

  “Well then,” Ura replied, flashing a complacent smile, “since I am a year your elder, I say you must eat your dragon weed.” Picking up the bowl, she held it beneath his nose.

  At once, Markus was annoyed. Was this just a game to her? Had she not seen how her words troubled him?

  “If you like it so much, you eat it!”

  What happened next was truly by accident. Markus pushed the bowl away without thought or realization of his own strength.

  Ura screamed as she lost her grip on the bowl and it toppled over the bed, splattering goo all over the shimmery wall and floor.

  “Oh, look what you’ve done!”

  The lump in Markus’ throat fell to his stomach with a thud. How could he have acted this way? “I did not mean to spill it.”

  Ura’s gaze swept across the slop. “You’ve made a mess everywhere!”

  “I’m sorry, Ura.”

  Growling, she bent over the spill and scooped the slime into the bowl with a cupped palm. “It is not easy cleaning dragon weed off of ice.”

  Markus tossed the meat into his satchel and pushed the furs off his legs, heedless of his throbbing skull. “Let me help you.”

  “No! You must rest!” She stood up and pointed a pale finger, silently commanding him to stay in bed. “Eat your meat and leave me to this.”

  But Markus no longer had the stomach for food, so angry was he with his own foolishness. He had made a mess of things with his brutish strength and, even worse, he’d upset Ura.

  Markus wondered if he was to live his life acting on anger without thinking, striking out without a care for others. Was he destined to become like his father?

  Chapter Nine

  Ura sat cross-legged on warm furs while adding shards of ice to the cooking pot. The chamber where she prepared the family meals was small. Thick pelts padded the ice walls around her, offering warmth and comfort. But, tonight she did not feel comforted and the cooking chamber seemed even more cramped than before. Thoughts troubled her, from which she had no means of escape.

  Silently, she leaned over the pot of herbs and added another stick of jagged ice. It melted, but ever so slowly. She focused again on the pale, warming stone beneath the pot, willing it to heat her brew. The stone turned the hue of amber and then all color faded.

  Ura bit her lip, silently swearing. She had lost her focus — again. All thoughts trailed back to that foolish brute from above. When last she checked, he was asleep, and Ura hoped he would not wake until Father returned. Was he boy or man? She only knew that no one had ever affected her this way. No one had ever made her pulse jump with just one touch.

  How could this land dweller, nearly the size of a snow bear, with eyes and hair blacker than the murky depths of Mystic Lake, move her in this way? She was not meant for this man-boy. She was not meant for anyone.

  Ura had seen her destiny and love had no part in the horrible fate that awaited her.

  “Where is your land dweller?”

  Ura’s head spun. How dare Bane sneak up behind her while she was unaware!

  Bane’s thin smile was cocked to one side. Folding his long, lean arms defiantly across his narrow chest, he rested a bony shoulder against the wall. His small, round eyes, sunk in deep sockets, reminded Ura of a serpent’s cold stare. But his hair was what had always unnerved her — pale, like the hair of any ice dweller, with the exception of a thin, rust-colored line, which began at his left temple and ended at his nape.

  Ura had never grown accustomed to the look of him or his aggressive temperament, and she had told him so more than once. So why was he always pestering her?

  “What are you doing here, Bane?” asked Ura, leveling him with a derisive glare as she came to her feet. “You know my father forbade you to call while he is away.”

  “No, he forbade me to be alone with you.” Bane stepped nearer, closing the distance between them, until they were merely a few breaths apart. “And you are not alone, are you?” His beady eyes darkened. “Where is he?”

  Ura stepped back, nearly stumbling on the fur beneath her. “Why do you care?”

  Bane shrugged and a wicked gleam crossed his features. “I wish to see this dark giant for myself.”

  “He is there, resting.” Ura pointed to the narrow doorway, leading to her brother’s room, where she hoped the land dweller still slept. “Now leave him be.”

  Bane glared at the eel-skin covered doorway, his lip rising in a snarl, before turning his sharp gaze back on her. “They say you watch over him like a mother coddling a newborn babe.”

  Heat infused her chest and flamed her cheeks. Why did Bane’s words upset her so? “He is injured. He needs care.”

  “What of my needs, Ura?” Bane hissed, stalking toward her.

  “Go find some other fool, Bane,” she replied, so tired of playing this game with him. “I do not want to marry you.”

  Ura stepped back again. Tossing a glance behind her, she found that she was almost backed up against the wall.

&n
bsp; If it was at all possible, the sharp features on his gaunt face softened. He continued to approach her with his arms splayed wide. “You do not know your own heart.”

  Ura’s back hit the wall as Bane closed the gap between them. Her heart raced, not from lust or love, but anger. How could this arrogant fool presume to know her thoughts?

  “I know my heart does not pine for you! Now get out!”

  Bane stood still. Shaking his head, he blinked hard, looking stunned and confused. Heaving a heavy breath, he ran wiry fingers through his hair. “When Ryne returns with promising news, you will be yourself again.”

  “How do you know what my brother will find? Or if he will return at all?” Ura’s words ended on a sob. Biting down on her fist, she refused to let the tears fall. She would not allow Bane to believe he’d made her cry.

  “Is that why you tend this land dweller? Do you seek to fill the void in your heart left by Ryne?” Bane took a slow step forward.

  Ura nearly retched at the feel of his cool breath on her cheek. “Leave me,” she growled.

  “No man understands you better than I, Ura. I know what you were doing the night you found the land dweller.” He reached out, cupping her shoulder in a tight grip.

  “Let go of me!” she shrieked, pushing his chest.

  It was like sticking her hands through a hollow drum. She knew Bane had less girth than a starved skeleton, but she had no idea of his frailty until that moment. He weightlessly stumbled back, grasping her arm and pulling her with him.

  This time, Ura jerked free with all her might. Her chest heaved with strained breath and her flesh burned with stinging intensity. Never before had she been so angry. Had Bane thought he could behave like a fool without reproach? Did he believe his family’s name gave him the right to take freely what did not belong to him?

  Bane caught himself on a nearby stool, just as he was about to tumble onto the floor. He stood upright, glaring at her with malice reflected in the stony depths of his tiny orbs.

  Bane spoke in a low, venomous hiss. “You will not push me again, girl.”

  “You will not touch her again!” The deep bellow rattled the tiny cave with dizzying force.