Frost Burn

by K T Munson

  Aradel considered her words before responding. “I would, but I would also increase our defenses at The Wall.”

  “Hmm,” she muttered before patting Aradel’s cheek. “Smart girl. Write the letters and send the owls posthaste.”

  Aradel watched as the older woman left. The Queen moved carefully, but she walked on her own. When she rounded the corner, and the attendant moved after her, Aradel stayed until the doors closed. Turning, she made her way across the throne room toward the scribes’ quarters, glancing up at the now-empty ceiling a final time.

  Since the Cold Wars, they had held a tenuous peace with the Fire Nation. They were less refined than her people, but they weren’t much different. They needed things that only the Frost Nation could provide, and her people needed the tools that the Fire Nation manufactured. Perhaps because her own family had been so terrible, she believed they couldn’t be any worse than that. All she had known was other people’s hatred for the Fire Nation, but that meant little to her.

  Queen Vesna’s decision to treat them with kindness might be perceived as weakness. Few shared her indifference toward them. Even Kirill didn’t much care for the Fire Nation, and had said so many times. As she walked through the palace, her attention turned to Kirill. Whatever the Queen had sent him to do had taken him far away, and she hoped he had weathered the quake all right.

  On her way to the scribes’ quarters, she paused at the tower of the messengers. Glancing up at the spiraling staircase, she walked up, forcing herself not to hurry in case anyone was tending to the birds. She did not want to lose face by looking like a rushing child instead of a candidate for Queen.

  She reached the top of the tower and smiled at the sight of so many sleeping owls. They were nocturnal and most preferred to hunt mice and other birds, so at night the tower was nearly empty of them.

  When Aradel was first taken from her family to become a candidate for queen, she would come here often. She went directly now over to a nesting mother. Bending down, she peered into their little nest and saw the family sleeping. One owlet cocked an eye at her, chattered softly, before returning to sleep.

  It was here that she had first met Kirill, still a page for the Knights then. He’d stumbled upon her crying in a corner after one of the girls had pulled on her braids. All the girls’ words had stung then since she was still recovering from what her parents had done. Kirill had told her then that he was becoming a Knight so that all the girls in the world would be safe and never cry again. Whenever she missed him, she always found herself here, remembering all the adventures they had as children. Yet with each passing day, those memories became more and more distant.

  She went to the tower window and surveyed Axion. There was a great split across their road, and the ground had become uneven. Houses were caved in, and trees had been tipped over by their roots. She could see people working hard to move rocks and help the injured in the streets.

  In a flurry of skirts, Aradel hurried back down the tower, throwing protocol aside. The faster she sent those letters, the faster she could join in helping the citizens of Axion.

  Fire: Chapter Eight

  Darha tilted her head to the side and looked curiously at the strange creature. She knew what it was; she was just having a hard time believing it was here. It was an emissary owl…from the Frost Nation. It sat on the scribe room windowsill, watching Darha with wide and almost engaging eyes. It was probably wondering why Darha hadn’t taken the letter off its neck yet.

  Darha regarded the scribe who had fetched her. “Is this…I mean…?” Darha didn’t know what to say. She wanted to ask if it was a joke or a prank, but her people wouldn’t do this for any reason, least of all during a national emergency. The scribe shrugged his shoulders helplessly. Darha looked back at the owl. It tilted its head as Darha had done a moment ago. Darha frowned. “Fetch me the letter, please.”

  “I tried your majesty, but it bit me.”

  “It bit you?” she asked with furrowed brows.

  The teenage boy nodded. “I believe, if history serves, only specially trained owls do that, my Queen. Those owls bite anyone outside of royalty who tries to take the parchment. Some of our message hawks do the same.”

  Darha observed the pretty white owl again. She sighed. “Okay,” she said and stepped toward it. She reached her hand out carefully, expecting to be bitten. The owl calmly held her eyes with his. Darha pinched the corner of the letter, and the strap holding it to its neck instantly came loose. The owl flew off.

  Darha quickly unfolded the parchment and read.

  In Greeting, Queen Darha,

  I write to you on behalf of my Queen Vesna of the Frost Nation. She has been made aware of the natural turmoil that is affecting both of our nations and requests a peaceful meet with you on the Frost Nation’s shores. We request your presence in three days’ time. Since the bridges have washed away, we will expect your arrival by boat on the bank of the former Western Bridge. Please respond accordingly if you are willing.

  Regards,

  Servant of Queen Vesna

  Aradel

  Darha folded up the parchment as panic started to rise up in her chest. This was huge. This was enormous, and she was terrified. She didn’t know what to do. Dealing with the Frost Nation on these matters?

  Hiding her fear, she faced the scribe. “Have one of my men fetch Coor and Thea from the northern disaster area immediately.”

  The scribe bowed low. “As you command.” He turned and left in a hurry.

  Darha slowly paced the scribe room, flicking the letter back and forth between her fingers. Meet the Frost Nation on their shores? Coor wouldn’t be okay with that, but if they needed to meet with Queen Vesna, Thea would insist on a heavy Fire Nation presence. Either way, Darha had a feeling they were going to this meeting.

  Darha made her way quickly to the throne room. Upon her entrance, the regional representatives waiting for her bowed low at the waist. “Ladies. Gentlemen,” Darha said shakily. She wasn’t sure if she should be making a call like this without Coor’s input. He was so much better at being royalty than she was; he always had been. He was wise, and brave, and responsible. Darha was a newborn kitten compared to the lion of a leader that her older brother was. However, the tradition had always been that women in the royal family sat on the throne before men. “I need all of the forgers in every one of your regions to start repair on all the ancient boats in the archive building.”

  Everyone looked around at each other, confused, and Darha nearly panicked. She felt dizzy and short of breath. She stiffly sat down on her throne, lest her legs give way. She tried to comfort herself with the thought that even if Coor refused to allow the meeting with the Frost Nation, the boats she was ordering repaired could still be used for trade, since the bridges were out. She awaited challenges and questions from the regional leaders, but none came. They all just started giving orders and instructions to their entourages and then dispersed to carry them out.

  Five hours passed before Coor and Thea could return, since it was a two-and-a-half-hour ride to and from the disaster area in the north. Night had long fallen, and Darha was alone now, sitting on her throne, slumped slightly to one side of it with exhaustion. She hadn’t slept all night. She just kept tending to the concerns and emergencies of her people. A new death report. Not enough tarps. Flooding beginning on the southeast coast. Another storm brewing. Her largest concern now, however, was that some of their natural springs were turning a strange grayish brown color and the water tasted and smelled odd. Some pools farther north were already undrinkable. Darha had a feeling she already knew what was wrong, but samples of the water were sent to the Derser Rects for analysis.

  Coor and Thea whisked into the throne room covered from head to toe in leather, rainwater dripping off them. “What happened?” Coor called.

  Darha gazed up at him, her eyes red and half-closed with exhaustion, and handed him the letter from the Frost Nation. She didn’t say a word as he opened it and read. His eyes
went wide, then he handed the letter to Thea, who snatched it from him.

  “What the …?” she said, looking at Coor with wide eyes.

  “Have you responded to them?” Coor asked.

  Darha shook her head. “I was waiting for you. But I did order the ancient boats to be repaired.”

  Coor sighed and regarded Thea. “What do you think?”

  With Coor and Thea discussing this, Darha instantly felt a four-ton weight lift off her. They were both smarter and braver than she could ever hope to be. For an instant, she hated being saddled with the title of Queen. Even though she was adopted, Thea was more suited for it than Darha was. Why did Darha have to be Queen now? She could run a peaceful, prosperous land, but this disaster? She didn’t even know where to begin to deal with it.

  Thea sighed. “If they’re reaching out to us like this, they’ve got to be suffering as well. I think we should meet with them and see what they have to say, but not without a very heavy Fire Nation presence.”

  Darha smiled a little. She knew her sister so well.

  Coor nodded once. “I’ll send the letter. Thea, would you please get my sister to bed?”

  Thea nodded. “Absolutely.”

  Thea reached for Darha and helped her stand. Leaning heavily on Thea, Darha let her lead her to the bedroom chambers. Coor would take over the royal duties while she was indisposed. Darha didn’t even recall her head resting on the pillow before she was asleep.

  Three days passed quickly, and before Darha even knew it, they were piling into the boats at the edge of the River Gora and shoving off their shores to the Frost Nation. The boats were little more than decorated rowboats that barely fit fifteen people. The patchwork done to them was good enough, but it had made the boats rickety and ugly looking. It didn’t matter, though. Darha was not really concerned with impressing the frost people.

  It was hot, finally—granted much hotter than usual, but it was wonderful. And here we are, Darha thought bitterly, about to go into the cold. Darha had had it with cold, but this meeting was already underway.

  Her heart was racing. She’d never, ever personally dealt with the Frost Nation. The traders and merchants were the only ones that ever did. She wondered what they were like. She knew they were cold and emotionless. They had passion and compassion for nothing, not even their own people. She wondered if they looked different. Did they have white skin or hair? Or perhaps blue? What kind of clothes did they wear? Darha imagined them covered from face to foot in animal fur to keep themselves warm in their frigid world.

  Darha, Coor and Thea were all dressed in their formal wear. Darha had put on her largest, puffiest red gown, which sparkled subtly in the sunlight. She also wore a large heavy gold cloak, trimmed at the collar and ends in red dyed fur. Not to mention the red fur gloves that went up past her elbows, and thick red fur-trimmed leather boots. Darha left her long, honey blonde hair cascading down her back, hoping it would make her appear friendlier and unthreatening.

  Darha glanced to her right. Thea was next to her at the front of the lead boat. Darha rarely ever saw her in anything but black, but today she was in gold armor with red trim and a red cloak. Her long brown hair was back in its usual tight braid, and she wore a red and gold helmet that resembled flames sweeping back away from her face. She was down on one knee with one arm resting across the top of her raised thigh. Her very light gray eyes were fixed ahead in grim determination. Thea was beautiful. Darha had always thought so. Now, however, in her gold and red armor, her dark hair and fierce eyes, Thea was stunning. Darha noticed the way Coor’s eyes lit up when Thea had walked into the throne room this morning. She wasn’t sure Coor had ever seen Thea in her formal armor. There had never really been occasion for her to wear it.

  Coor’s armor wasn’t much different from what he usually wore, except that instead of gold armor with red trim, he wore gold armor with black trim. The red and gold of his usual armor made him look distinguished, while the gold and black made him look dangerous. The black cloak he wore was bigger and heavier than usual, and so was his personal arsenal. Darha wondered how in the world he had fit that many weapons on his person. But Darha knew better than to underestimate her older brother when it came to his knowledge of warfare.

  The River Gora was so wide it took six hours for the party of fifteen boats to row across it. Fog got heavier along the way, concealing the river from their view. The temperature did drop steadily, but it was still warm enough to be very comfortable for Darha and her Fire Nation soldiers. Where was the cold she expected? The freezing temperatures?

  Through the mist, as they reached the other shore, an enormous structure filled Darha’s vision. Her eyes widened. It looked like a mountain! But no. As they drifted closer, Darha realized it was white; it was a massive wall of ice! It completely filled the horizon so the edges couldn’t even be seen. Darha glanced at Thea in a panic. Were the frost people giants or something? Thea’s eyes were also wide as she slowly stood up, staring at the massive ice structure. Coor stepped up behind Thea with the same expression of awe and disbelief.

  “Coor,” Thea said, her eyes on the structure, “I’m so sorry I made fun of you for bringing so many weapons.”

  Coor nodded. “I’m sorry I teased you for suggesting such a large host come with us.”

  Darha took a deep breath and blew it out slowly as the shore came into view through the mist. Darha could do this. This was what she was good at, the only thing she was good at—diplomatic resolutions and keeping peace. She wasn’t sure the Frost Nation would be so willing to keep peace, but that’s what Thea and Coor and the two hundred and twenty-five soldiers at her back were for.

  Coor and Thea took their places on either side of Darha as shadows on the shore started to become visible. Darha swallowed a couple of times and commanded herself to relax and put on her mask—the mask her mother taught her that made her seem fearless and dispassionate, even if she was trembling inside. It was a placid, expressionless façade a Queen wore when dealing with enemies. Darha had mastered it when she was young, but it was always a game to her then. She wasn’t playing a game any longer.

  Darha expected a grand host of frost people to fill the shores, but only sixteen silhouettes developed in the mist. Darha’s brows dropped in confusion, her mask cracking. As they neared the shore, she saw what had to be Queen Vesna. A very small, squat old woman with gray and silver hair tied up in a neat bun at the crown of her head, sat in an unimpressive chair, surrounded by a bunch of young girls. They seemed cold—in a way that had nothing do with the temperature. All of them did, that is, but one.

  Darha’s attention was drawn to the girl to the far left of the Queen who stood proper and still, watching the boats with a childlike curiosity. She had long, thick silvery blonde hair pulled back in a single braid down the length of her back. She wore a thin, blue sparkling gown that bared her shoulders. Her feet, too, were bare. The man by her side made Darha cringe a little. He had long, golden blonde hair and dark, fierce eyes that made him appear angry. They reminded Darha of how Thea’s eyes had looked this morning. His uniform was very light and like that of the Knights of the Fire Nation, so Darha assumed he was a Knight. The only things out of place were the thick gloves on his hands, which seemed odd among his lighter attire. Darha’s teeth clenched in discomfort; they were completely normal looking, except that they were dressed like it was 90 degrees out, when it was closer to 50.

  As they reached the shore, Thea and Coor hopped out and started to drag it onto the land. The blonde man approached Darha without a word. His eyes were unfriendly. He wouldn’t attack her—he wouldn’t dare with her army at her back! — but still she felt afraid. She felt the tension rise in the men behind her as he stepped up to the boat, stooped down, and held out his hand to her. Oh. He was being polite. Begrudgingly polite, because she could see in his eyes he wanted to be as far away from Darha as he could get.

  Darha reached up to take his hand, but before she could, Thea spun around and gave the Knight
a hard shove backward. “Get away from her!” Coor was instantly next to his wife, his hands grabbing for the hilt of his sword. Darha felt her soldiers’ tension rise, and saw the Frost Knight’s eyes become fiercer, and realized a war was about to start.

  “No!” Darha cried, throwing propriety out the window for a moment. “Stop! Stop! Stand down, Thea! Coor, stop!” She looked behind her at the army. “Stand down!”

  Panic of a war starting amid these massive natural disasters made Darha’s voice sound different, strangled and high-pitched. She could not deal with a war—and Thea was warrior enough to singlehandedly start one on her own.

  Darha brought her hands up to her face in a gesture that looked like impatience so she could press her gloved hands into her eyes to absorb the fearful tears that burned in them. She couldn’t cry, not here, not now. She took a deep breath and composed herself, making sure her tears were at bay, before she turned her attention back to the Frost Knight.

  “My apologies, Sir Knight,” she said and held her hand out to him.

  The Knight regarded them warily, first Thea and then Coor, before stepping toward the boat again. The Knight grasped her hand, but as soon as she touched him, Darha cried out in pain and snatched her hand away. She suddenly heard the metallic ring of weapons behind her and saw magic ignite all around her.

  “Stop!” Darha commanded in a voice she didn’t even recognize. It was firm, less frail and desperate. It echoed over the river behind her and off the ice wall in front of her. No tears came this time; all of her being was focused on preventing war. Shockingly, all movement ceased, even from the Frost Nation. She looked up at Thea and Coor with a confidence and authority she never imposed on them. “He was just cold, and it hurt my skin,” Darha said slowly.