Lord of Snow and Ice

by Heather Massey

  “That’s right.” Gretchen regarded her, slowly wiping her mouth with the back of a hand. “Why? Was there somewhere you needed to be?”

  “No, I…” Clarysa nervously fingered her spoon. “It seems like I nearly died!”

  “I’ll not lie. You had a serious brush with death.” Gretchen took their bowls for a refill.

  Clarysa chewed thoughtfully on a piece of the tough bread. It was mostly tasteless and she didn’t care for it, old family recipe or not. “Any word from Stellan?” she asked.

  Gretchen shook her head. “Don’t expect him back for a week, at least. He hasn’t got the men to spare for messengers.”

  Clarysa nodded her understanding and resumed eating. But her stomach already felt full, so she pushed the bowl away after only a few more bites. She sipped her water. The food had given her energy, and she was bursting with questions. The first flew from her mouth before she could stop it. “I thought Stellan lived alone. Does he… I mean, is he, uh, is he with anyone?”

  Gretchen looked up sharply.

  Clarysa winced. Idiot! You were rubbing shoulders with death and that’s all you can think about?

  Mirth made Gretchen's eyes sparkle. “You mean like a…a companion? A lady friend, perhaps? Is that what you’d like to know?”

  “Yes,” she said softly.

  Gretchen stroked her chin. “Well, no, unless you count…” A thoughtful look passed briefly across her face. “No, he doesn’t.” Her lips broke into a wide smile. “Why? Do you have someone in mind for him?”

  Clarysa looked down, blushing furiously. “Just wondering,” she muttered.

  Gretchen snorted. “Well then, are you finished eating?”

  Clarysa nodded. Gretchen and Ghyslain gathered the dishes.

  As they worked, Clarysa noticed how carefully Gretchen conserved the remaining food. Even her own uneaten soup went back into the pot. Clarysa recalled the vegetable pastry she had so carelessly wasted during the hunt and felt ashamed. Was Stellan that poor? She recalled other clues, such as his patched clothing, lean appearance and voracious appetite. At the time, she had thought nothing of it. Surely a prince could not be so destitute that every scrap of food had to be saved!

  But perhaps so. Here she was, in a castle so drab and dreary and bare. She had to help somehow. Looking down, she tugged off two rings from her fingers and placed them on the table. When Gretchen returned with a rag to wipe the table’s surface, Clarysa gestured for her to take them. “They should be several weeks’ worth of food, I would think.”

  Gretchen looked horrified. “Oh, no, milady, oh no oh no! If the master finds out, he’ll have my head! He’s got a horrible temper, you know!” She pushed them back across the table.

  “Oh, but you must accept them! Especially after all you’ve done. Think of it as my gift to you.”

  Gretchen eyed them wistfully. “I do miss my spices! I know how to cook, and cook well, but it’s been so hard these past years. More and more he sits in his tower playing that infernal…here, Ghyslain!” She scooped up the rings and handed them to her son. “Go with Froll to the village. You know what to get!”

  Ghyslain, his calm composure now flushed with excitement, bowed deeply toward Clarysa before bounding from the room.

  Clarysa stared after him, beaming. Her donation wouldn’t solve all of Stellan’s problems, but at least it was something. Then she turned to Gretchen. “There’s a village nearby?”

  “Gods of fortune, no! It couldn’t possibly survive here.” She gestured toward the doorway. “They’re going to one across the southern border of the kingdom.”

  “Oh.” Clarysa studied her hands, but soon abandoned them in favor of more interesting quarry. “I feel so much better now. I was wondering, if you don’t think me rude, who exactly are you? How long have you worked for Stellan?”

  Gretchen grunted. “Aye, that’s a tale in and of itself. If you have the time,” she said with a wink, “and I know you do, I’ll make us some tea and tell you the account of how my family came to live in this wretched wreck of a castle.”

  Chapter 13

  Two mugs of strong, hot tea lit upon the table. Clarysa wrapped her hands around hers for warmth as Gretchen settled in her seat. The gypsy woman cleared her throat and began.

  “A long time ago, my husband and I decided to return to his father’s home by the sea after many years of wandering among the Hemling Mountains. They’re on the northern edge of Falcon Heights. Ever been there?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “You should go sometime. Beautiful area. Anyway, it felt right to make a visit as I was heavy with Ghyslain at the time. This was about oh, fourteen years ago. Our group included myself, my husband Besnik, his brother Froll and our daughter Patrulha.”

  Clarysa’s eyes widened at this revelation. The Captain of the Guard!

  “The journey started out with smooth riding and only the most beautiful of weather to grace our way. We couldn’t have been happier.” Gretchen’s eyes glossed over at some distant memory. “But my husband, fortune bless him, had a singular idea to take a shortcut, mainly to avoid entering the Wastes. He swore he knew it like the back of his hand.” Gretchen clucked. “Well, that couldn’t have been further from the truth as it turned out. Something must have changed long before we arrived, for the roads were confusing and poorly marked. We became lost. Set adrift without a thought of where to turn. More tea?”

  Clarysa nodded, and Gretchen paused as she filled both their mugs.

  “A vicious snowstorm waylaid us–a real howler. There was something odd about it. The change of weather was as night and day, being sunny and warm one minute, and freezing cold the next. Needless to say, we were ill-prepared. The storm toyed with us, driving us deeper and deeper into its belly.” Gretchen shivered. “It lasted for days. Our food supply dwindled down to crumbs, and you could forget about any kind of a fire. We were wet to the bone, constantly. Thought the reaper was upon us for sure then!”

  “How awful!” said Clarysa. “What did you do?”

  “What else could we do? We traveled on. And of course, that was the perfect time for me to go into labor. The storm and all must have induced it, for the contractions began something fierce!” Gretchen rubbed her middle-aged belly with a wry smile. “It was high time we found shelter, for I knew the baby weren’t holding back none!

  “We went on, blind as bats. As luck would have it–and to this day I thank the gods of fortune for their kindness–we stumbled upon this very castle. Whether it was night or day, I can’t recall, for it always seems dark as pitch in this land.” Gretchen let out a low sigh before continuing.

  “Now imagine Stellan’s surprise at this point. Here he is, a young boy, scared and all alone in this awful place. And you can right believe me when I say it looked a hundred times worse than what you see now.” Gretchen took a sip of tea. “So we ride up to the front gate, and we’re knocking and shouting like a crazed mob. My water had just broken. It seemed an eternity before he finally opened the door, and then only a crack. Besnik practically forced his way in. We entered, soaked and shivering, dripping like drowned rats.”

  Clarysa was spellbound by the tale. She held her breath as Gretchen leaned closer.

  “And what did you think happened next?”

  She shook her head. She couldn’t imagine.

  “Why, I gave birth to Ghyslain right inside the door. I plopped down nice as you please and out he came.”

  “How terrible!” Clarysa gave her a sympathetic look. “What did Stellan do?”

  Gretchen snorted. “Didn’t have much choice to do anything but watch. You should have seen him back then, all skin and bones. Paler than a corpse and dressed in rags. He must have been about fifteen. Never said a word during those first few days, just stared and pointed whenever we asked for anything. Not that he had anything to give other than a roof over our heads.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “The place smelled like death, and with good reason. I’m telling you, no
lie, there were dead bodies all over the place! Rotting, maggot-loving corpses everywhere we turned. All twisted in strange positions.” Gretchen pointed behind her. “One right here, too, face down in the hearth!” She shook her head. “God only knows what the boy did. Something devilish to be sure, for a dark cloud seemed to hang over him, sapping his will and confusing his senses. The horse was having trouble pulling the wagon, if you know what I mean.”

  Clarysa shook her head.

  The old woman tapped her forehead. “Sick in the noggin, he was. Let me tell you, a few days after our arrival, a wild look seized his eyes, one like a crazed beast.”

  “What did it mean?”

  “He had ‘the grip’ for sure. It was something fearful to behold. In all my born days I’ve never seen anything like it. That look, and the awful laugh! The poor dear began eating dirt right off of the floor. We knew we had to help him.”

  Clarysa winced at the unexpected news. This was far worse than what she had anticipated. “What did you do?”

  “My husband and Froll caught him, bound him up tight and left him alone in a room to see if it would leave his mind.” Gretchen’s features darkened. “It took over three and a half moons for it to pass! I fed and bathed him as best I could, like a newborn babe–but one with the occasional bite my way!” She leaned back, her face appearing more relaxed. “In time, it passed. All’s the better!”

  Clarysa couldn’t believe her ears. Stellan seemed so rational and calm. “Still, what a terrible ordeal.”

  Gretchen placed a comforting hand on Clarysa’s. “The important thing now is he’s back with us and sworn off that wicked magick for good, aside from a few medicinal herbs here and there. After all, who knows what the gods extract from a man’s soul every time a mortal defies them?” She sipped her tea, looking thoughtful.

  Clarysa nodded, her stomach fluttering anxiously. Yes, who knows? And there I was asking him to perform simple tricks like a child would. Memories of the conjured rose flooded her mind. What price will he pay for that, I wonder? The thought chilled her bones.

  Clarysa cleared her throat. “How did you survive after that? I mean, with the snow and all.”

  “Well, we shared what little we had with Stellan, stretching our provisions for days and days our first month. Eventually, Besnik was forced to leave to find supplies. He returned just in time, too, for we’d had nothing but water for the two days prior. It was rougher than you’d ever believe.”

  “Where is your husband, if I may ask? Did he go with Stellan and the others?”

  A melancholic expression passed over Gretchen’s face. “He passed on many years ago. Bad heart.”

  Clarysa’s voice grew hoarse. “Oh, I’m so sorry. After all you’ve been through.”

  Gretchen patted her hand briefly. “Don’t be, child. I’ve been blessed. Besides, he lives on through our two beautiful children.” She swallowed more tea. “Now where was I? Oh, yes, how we survived. Months passed before the young prince ever said a word. But one day, as I sat alone nursing Ghyslain by this hearth, Stellan appeared at the doorway. He tried to act all formal and haughty, but I knew there was a needy boy underneath his bluster.

  “So I invited him in and we drank tea–much like we’re doing now. I asked him if there were something on his mind. Let me tell you, his words came tumbling out so fast it was like a dam had burst! Would we please stay and live here and help take care of the castle, he said. He would protect us. Truth be told, I nearly laughed in his face. How was this skinny pole of a boy going to protect us, let alone a flea? Then he told me about his powers, slight as they were. I don’t know if you’re aware, but a sorcerer’s abilities grow stronger once he reaches manhood. Or womanhood, if she’s female.”

  Clarysa shook her head. “The only things I know about the people of the Western Wastes are what I’ve heard through tales.”

  “Well, consider yourself informed. To this day, I wonder if Stellan was disastrously naive, for the boy had nothing, like I said. Then, before I could answer, he asked for our allegiance. ‘You must never leave me,’ he demanded. ‘You will belong to me, and I to you.’” Gretchen sighed. “Serious words from one so young. To stay would mean a whole lifestyle change, and for nomads like us, that idea was hard to swallow. But we owed him much. I found it difficult to turn aside such generosity. With Ghyslain so young, it made sense for us to stay put for a while. So I discussed it with Besnik, and we agreed to remain for a year.” Gretchen smiled grimly. “That year stretched into fourteen more.”

  The fire spit and crackled during the subsequent silence, sending an amber cascade up the chimney. After a few minutes, Clarysa ventured to speak. “So you became like…like his family.”

  Gretchen nodded. “So we did. Besnik and Froll helped Stellan make repairs as best they could. But the castle seemed to have a mind of its own. They would fix one part and another would disintegrate before your very eyes. Nevertheless, Patrulha and I spent our days making the living quarters as comfortable as possible. But we always ended up back in the kitchen!

  “Eventually, Stellan’s guard dropped, and he spent most of his time with us. I’m sure he wouldn’t admit it to you yet, but I remember countless hours he spent tending to our son. Ghyslain adores him. Though he may appear cold and distant, the prince is not arrogant. He cooks and cleans and mends along with the best of us.” Gretchen laughed. “Not exactly the picture that comes to mind when you think of your usual royal, is it?”

  Clarysa smiled. No. Stellan was unlike any man she’d ever met.

  “Now,” Gretchen continued, “even as a teenager, Patrulha was already an imposing figure of a female. Over the next several years, Besnik trained both her and Stellan in the art of swordsmanship and fighting.”

  “And so he made her Captain?”

  “Uh-huh. They’re very close. Same age, in fact. In those days they were downright inseparable. Used to ride off together to heaven knows where. And when Besnik died, Patrulha took it awfully hard. Stellan guided her through a difficult time.”

  “And what of Froll? I remember you mentioning him a few moments ago.”

  “Oh, he’s been wonderful! Took up Besnik’s place without a single complaint. Though I don’t mind saying I feel a wee bit guilty, for I never had feelings for him like I did Besnik. But I think he’s found himself a lovely woman in the village. He’s been our connection to the outside world all these years. I don’t know what we’d’ve done if he hadn’t encouraged Stellan to market his special potions and such. He sells them to the merchants and travelers in the village, along with what little knickknacks and jewelry I can cobble together.”

  “And that’s your only income?”

  “Aye. We’ve searched the castle many times. Everything of value here had already been plundered by thieves long ago.”

  “I see.” So he really is poor. I’ll talk with Father as soon as I return. These people can’t go on like this.

  “So, the years passed. Between Besnik and Froll, they coaxed Stellan out of his shell, and helped him build the modest kingdom he has today. Stellan even managed to recruit a small group of men loyal only to him. You’ll meet them after they return, I’m sure.”

  Clarysa nodded. “I’d like to.”

  Gretchen stood. “But I’ve talked your ear off. Come, I’ll walk you back to your room. I’m sure you’d like a bath and some fresh clothes.”

  Clarysa agreed. On the way, she digested what she had learned. She and Stellan came from such different worlds. Would they be able to find any common ground between them?

  Chapter 14

  Clarysa recovered completely a few days later. Her first intention was to explore the castle. Gretchen didn’t seem to care what she did as long as she didn’t go outside.

  One morning, she encountered a room she had never visited before. She peeked inside, slowly swinging her lantern from left to right. There wasn’t much there–only some rusty armor, a few chests and another doorway, painted green. The door’s surface appeared
smooth and clean, unlike anything else belonging to the drab, gray castle.

  Clarysa bit her lip. Did the room beyond hide the former king’s resting place? She recalled the story of the mysterious coffin Stellan had found. Her curiosity hungered as if a starved beast, and demanded to be satisfied immediately. With one quick look about her, she stepped into the musty chamber.

  Three long strides later she was at the viridian door. It’s probably secured, she thought. But when she took a chance on the iron handle and pushed, the door swung silently open. Well, this is a shock. Now I have to enter!

  Grasping the lantern tightly, she entered. The area before her was extremely dark and dank, like a tomb. She could only see a few inches ahead. Lowering the light, she noticed wooden steps disappearing into a lightless abyss. A slight draft slinked up from the depths, sharing its fetid air. Cautiously, Clarysa tried the first step. It seemed solid enough, so she tried the second, then the third. Downward she went into the unknown.

  The air grew increasingly colder as she descended. Even as she tightened the thick layers of wrapping she wore, exposed skin voided her body heat like a hemorrhage. Soon, she lost track of how far down she had traveled. Clarysa was thinking about retreating when she arrived at another door. She held up her light. This door was completely black, instantly swallowing up the light, reflecting none of it. How odd. Her breaths sounded alarmingly pronounced in the dead air.

  Clarysa ran her other hand along the door’s frigid surface, half expecting to be sucked into a hellish otherworld. She felt indentations. The curious markings were only millimeters in depth, but appeared to cover the entire surface.

  Shaking slightly, both from fear and excitement, she jiggled the door handle. The sharp, pointed knob turned easily and the dark slab of wood moved inward. Rays of deep blues and greens spilled out, slicing through the oppressive dark sea surrounding her. Warily, she crept into the room.

  Clarysa stared about her in slack-jawed amazement. Hundreds of luminescent containers lined dozens of wooden shelves and emitted a collective spectral glow.