Frost Burn

by K T Munson

  Aradel pushed through the last of the people trying to get to safety. She screamed Queen Vesna’s name again as the stone started to give way above. Still, the woman made no move to leave. Aradel ran, instinctively reaching for her. She was just a few steps away, when the ceiling gave way, and they were buried under stone and ice.

  Fire: Chapter Twenty-Two

  Darha could hardly believe the ash from Tamon’s explosion had reached them this far to the southeast. Three days since, and it was still falling heavily, a constant nuisance throughout the camp. People had to be designated to brush it off tent roofs and tables, lest they collapse under the weight. They were constantly laboring over the duty, taking shifts all day and night to make sure the ash didn’t accumulate too high.

  A dull grayness had settled around them on everything—the sky, the ground, everywhere that it could. This wasn’t normal ash like from a fire. This ash was gritty and heavy. It coated everything, and rubbed like sand between their fingers. Fortunately, the ash fall had thinned considerably from the sheets that had come down in Vlid, but Darha still worried. Snow was simply cold water and could be dealt with because it melted in the heat of the Fire Nation. But this stuff was a snowstorm from a nightmare that never ended, and never melted. They had no means to protect themselves from it.

  Darha stood outside her tent now with a scarf covering her nose and mouth. It used to be a pretty light pink color, but was now as dull and gray as the ash that surrounded her. With dust and dirt covering her face and clothing, she looked up at the pale ball in the sky that used to be their brilliant sun, and silently wondered why their Sun God had abandoned them like this. She even prayed, asking him why. When her prayers were met with silence, she went back inside her tent with a heavy heart.

  Pulling her scarf off her face and letting it hang around her neck like a noose, Darha went around a large wooden table and sat heavily in the temporary throne behind it. Coor had put a system of boat building and forging into place that was working smoothly, which didn’t leave Darha much to do in that regard. Her job was mainly to quell the people who constantly ranted about evacuating to the Frost Nation. Darha was tired of the looks, the snarls, and the shakes of heads. So often she wanted to scream at them that if they wanted to stay so badly, why didn’t they? Or, if they were agreeing to come, why did they have to mutter and complain about it? It made her angry because it made absolutely no sense.

  She sunk heavily into her throne, putting her elbow on the armrest so her hand propped up her head, and closed her eyes. She hadn’t known it was possible to be this tired. She wasn’t sure how she could even function. Because Coor was constantly busy tending to things throughout the camp, Darha was left alone quite often, allowing her way too much time to contemplate things.

  She thought about Thea, and felt a burning ache in her chest every time her sister crossed her mind. Was she okay? Was she going to be okay? She knew Coor was in emotional pain, that was practically manifesting itself into physical pain from her absence, but he continued doing what needed to be done like warriors did. He never quit and never gave up…and never talked about Thea being gone.

  Opening her eyes, Darha stared at the red and gold decorative wall of her tent. His reaction suddenly struck her as odd. Darha felt like Coor needed to talk about her, and how he was missing her, and worried for her.

  Her eyes shifted to the entryway of her tent. “Jamsun,” she called to her guard.

  Moving the flap aside he poked his head in. “Majesty?”

  “Will you please send for my brother?”

  The older guard nodded. “Right away.” With that, he disappeared.

  Darha sighed heavily and continued to stare at the wall of her tent. It was big enough to fit more than ten people in here comfortably. She tried to repress the guilt of taking up that much space. It seemed pointless, but that was the role she played, Queen. And Queens needed protection and solitude to make sure they could still run things and conduct business. She closed her eyes again, and shook her head at the absurdity of it.

  Hearing Coor outside her tent, her eyes shifted to the entryway as he entered. His skin and clothing was dull and gray and filthy from constant ash fall. He had a distinct smudge across his forehead where he had tried to wipe it away. Pulling down the grayish-red scarf from his face, he looked at her with concern. “What’s wrong?”

  Darha sat up a little and took hold of a chair beside her. “Sit down.” Coor did. “How are you holding up?” she asked.

  Coor sighed heavily and sat back. “I’m all right. The boat building is going better than expected. We’ve already got about twelve built, but it’s going to be—”

  “Coor,” Darha interrupted gently. He looked at her, slightly puzzled. Darha shifted her eyes down to his hands on his lap. Leaning over her knees, with her elbows resting on her thighs, she took hold of one and met his eyes. “How are you holding up?”

  Coor appeared confused for a moment, and then a wide range of emotions flashed across his face when he realized what she was asking. Darha could tell he wanted to dismiss the question, but seeing her concern, he softened. “I miss her,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. He pressed his fingers into his eyes to hide the tears.

  Darha didn’t say anything and just held her brother’s hand. She’d never seen him so distraught before. But for once, finally, she could be his rock as he always had been hers.

  He lowered his hand and his red eyes met hers. “It feels like a piece of me is missing.” Darha’s eyes filled with tears at that. “And I want it back,” he concluded, swallowing heavily. “I want my wife back, Darha.”

  Darha nodded. She gazed at the floor as a single tear slid down her cheek. A memory suddenly popped into her head, and she smiled up at him. “Do you remember when mom and dad brought her home that day?”

  Coor huffed a short laugh, which allowed a tear to escape down his cheek that he quickly wiped away. “How could I forget?”

  “She totally kicked Kohe’s ass.”

  Coor threw his head back and laughed. Darha felt a weight lift off her heart with the sound of it. “Yeah, she did.” Coor pinched the corners of his eyes again, trying to absorb the tears. “I remember mom trying to hurry Thea into the bathing room before she could get picked on.”

  Darha nodded. “But she wasn’t quick enough, and we were already coming down the hall from study group.”

  Coor nodded. He lowered his hand and stared at the floor for a moment. Darha could see him lost in the happy memory of when he met the girl who had ended up being his soul mate. “Even at twelve years old I knew,” Coor said, smiling. “I saw her and that fearless fire in her eyes when she punched Kohe hard enough to send him sprawling across the floor, and I knew.”

  Darha nodded. “And Kohe was a mini-giant.”

  “Taller than me!” Coor exclaimed with a grin, and Darha giggled. “You know I saw him years later, before he was killed, and his nose was still flat at the bridge.” Darha threw her head back and laughed. Coor chuckled. “I would have hit him myself for putting his hands near Thea, but she beat me to it.”

  “What did he do again? I don’t remember.”

  “He was a snob, offended by her ragged street appearance, and gave her a shove as we approached. Mom tried yelling at him, but Thea handled it.”

  Darha chuckled. “In the way only Thea can,” she concluded with a smile.

  Coor laughed. “Mom and I looked at each other when Kohe went sprawling. Both of us had our lips pressed together, hardly able contain our laughter before she finally got Thea into the bathing room.”

  Darha listened to him laugh, and let it die down before she squeezed his hand, making him look at her. “Thea will be back,” she said confidently. “I know she will. She is too stubborn, and too in love with you, to let anything stop her from coming back home. You know it’s true, too.”

  Coor smiled at her, “I know.” He squeezed her hand in return and stood up. Cupping Darha’s face in both hands, he pressed
his lips firmly to her forehead. “Thanks,” he said, looking down at her.

  Darha smiled and nodded. “You’re welcome.”

  Coor had just straightened when Jamsun threw back the flap of her tent. “Begging your pardon, your majesties,” he said with wide eyes, “but you need to see this.”

  Darha’s heart leapt up into her throat. What was wrong now? She got to her feet, and Coor took a step back to allow her to round the table first. Lifting the scarves up over their faces again, Darha and Coor stepped out into the world of falling ash. Everything around her was still gray and hazy, and she couldn’t see much out of order. Everything seemed normal and quiet.

  “Darha,” Coor said softly.

  She glanced up at him and saw his eyes were wide. Following his gaze, she found herself looking out at the River Gora nearby. It was fuzzy at first, but soon her eyes were as big as her brother’s. They glanced at each other, and then both were hurrying toward the river’s edge.

  Boats, at least two hundred boats, a whole fleet of long rowboats, appeared on the horizon. It didn’t take long for a crowd to gather behind the siblings. Whispers and murmurs broke out, some sounding confused, others afraid, a few angry. As the boats drew nearer, Darha started trembling with joy, relief, gratitude, and everything in between. It was the Frost Nation. They were in two hundred empty boats, and Darha knew they were here to rescue them.

  Covering her mouth with one hand, Darha shamelessly started bawling her eyes out. Coor drew her close to him and she pressed her face into his chest, sobbing hysterically. She didn’t even care who heard or saw her. Coor wrapped both his arms tightly around her and did his best to shield her as she cried. She couldn’t believe it. Darha vowed to herself to hug Queen Vesna when they got to the southern shore, no matter how much her cold burned. As long as the old Queen could insulate herself from Darha’s heat, she was determined to hug her.

  The Frost Nation was pulling their boats ashore before Darha could calm herself. An incredibly handsome soldier stepped out and approached Darha with some haste. He was a little older, maybe Coor’s age, with gentle, pale green eyes and straight, golden blonde hair that grazed the top of his shoulders and framed his features.

  He had a small playful smile on his lips as he stood in front of her. “We understand you may be in need of some assistance, your majesty.”

  Darha recognized him. It took her a moment, but she quickly recalled him as the soldier who had noticed her crying during the Frost Nation’s supply run weeks ago. Darha managed to laugh through her tears. “Yes. Yes, we do.”

  His smile broadened slightly, and he bowed a little at the waist. “My name is Cas and, per order of Queen Vesna, if you’re willing, we’ve come to retrieve you to our shores, where you will be protected and provided for.” Cas’s eyes scanned the crowd behind Darha, and his smile faded.

  Darha looked back and saw the hostile glares the rescue boats were getting. Darha couldn’t believe it. She absolutely couldn’t believe it. Getting angry, she slowly pulled the scarf off her face and turned to face them, deliberately stepping in front of Cas as if to protect him, and glared at her ungrateful nation. “How dare any of you gaze upon them like this,” she said. “They came to rescue us. Rescue us!” she cried forcefully. “They didn’t have to. They could have left us over here to rot, but they didn’t. They chose to save us!” Darha felt her lip twitch. “But, by all means, if any of you want to stay here,” her voice lowered to a growl, “be my guest.”

  Her people glanced around nervously at each other, some with a little shame, but not many.

  She faced Cas again and the other Frost Nation soldiers. “Thank you for coming to our rescue.”

  Cas smiled again, but it was a little sad this time. “While Queen Vesna is welcoming you to our shores, hostilities are”—he glanced at the crowd behind her— “clearly still strong between our two nations, and you must be segregated, lest war break out.”

  Darha nodded once. “I understand.”

  “With the early spring, Hurra will be empty and available for your use. It is a small, but well-maintained town just across the river from here. There are houses, beds, food, medicine, and heat.”

  Darha nodded again. “It’s more than we could have hoped for. Thank you.”

  Cas smiled warmly at her. “Shall we begin to evacuate you?”

  Darha grinned in return, though nervously. “You realize it’s going to take several trips?”

  Cas nodded. “We were made aware of how many people were going to need to be evacuated. We are prepared.”

  Darha wiped one final tear from her cheek and felt the grit from the ash smear across her face. “Thank you,” she said and then looked up at Coor. “Let’s get our own boats into the water, too, and evacuate.”

  Coor faced the crowd. “Everyone start packing your things.” Everyone started moving and talking at once. “Take only necessities!” He called over the noise. “Women, children, wounded, and elderly first. Provisions are on the other side of the river, so bring only necessities!” As the crowd disbursed, Coor stepped up to Cas. “Thank you,” Coor said, his words heavy with sincerity. “Truly. Thank you.”

  Cas nodded once in reply. Coor and Darha then took off to tend to the preparations for evacuation and rescue.

  Frost: Chapter Twenty-Three

  Tulya watched as the boats departed the Frost Nation heading out on a misguided rescue attempt for the Fire Nation. Glancing up at the light ash that rained down around them, it pained her to think that only the magic users of the Frost Nation could protect themselves from hot embers that burned within it.

  Selfish, self-fulfilling magic users. They cared little for those that weren’t like them, and gave preferential treatment to those who had magic. Tulya looked back to the River Gora as the last of the boats were launched and lost to the fog. She was alone at the lookout, but not far off from those that supported her and Ekil’s cause.

  Tulya gazed down at her hand as frost formed on it. An instant later, it vanished. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, she thought as she closed her hand into a fist. If Ekil ever discovered she was a very weak magic user, he would likely kill her.

  But the two factions needed to work together for now. Many members of the Fire Nation had joined their cause, even fire wielders. They’d finally realized that their Sun God didn’t answer their prayers, and that the Fire Nation’s Queen couldn’t stop this devastation with her magic. To them, those lost and burdened souls, magic was to blame. All their weak minds wanted was something to blame, and all Tulya had to do was provide the focus for that blame. They had joined by the hundreds, desperate for the supplies Tulya and their group had offered. To her thousand members, Ekil had two thousand. Half of which now reported to Tulya. Well, mostly reported.

  As she climbed down from the tree blind, Tulya considered their options. The Frost Nation could choose one of three villages to evacuate the Fire Nation to. The closest was Jipon, but Tulya doubted they would place the Fire Nation near a guardhouse that led under The Wall. That left Hurra and Demil. Hurra was closest, and, for the sake of efficiency, she imagined Queen Vesna would choose that one.

  When she reached the bottom, she found Ekil’s right hand man, Maris, waiting for her. He spat on the ground and smiled menacingly at her. “They all gone?” His hair was wiry and streaked with gray. It matched his pale eyes, which were the same color of the ash that fell around them.

  She pushed her blond curls out of her face and turned toward him, trying not to glare. “Yes.”

  “Good,” he replied.

  He pushed off the tree he had been leaning on and started back toward their camp. Tulya pulled a sheer cloth over her head as she followed behind. She couldn’t risk anyone recognizing her on the way back. Not to mention, it kept the ash out of her hair. She felt almost paranoid about being recognized, because nearly every citizen of the Frost Nation had fled behind The Wall. She couldn’t risk being questioned.

  “Did you come to escort m
e back?” she asked, wondering why exactly Maris had come.

  He made a rude noise before answering. “You were taking too long. People were getting restless.”

  “We are about to cripple the magic users,” Tulya said hotly. “Everyone is just ready to take the next step.”

  “Perhaps,” Maris replied, “or perhaps they are restless because we’ve mingled Fire with Frost.”

  “They won’t have to wait much longer,” Tulya responded as she tried to conceal her excitement. “The Fire Nation’s refugees will likely be brought to the village of Hurra.”

  Maris didn’t reply, and Tulya was thankful for it. She had half expected an argument. Ekil, with his scars and ideas of grandeur, made her nervous. It did not surprise her that the man acting as his second did the same. Unlike Ekil’s, Maris’s scars were not visible, but she could still sense they were there, just below the surface.

  Most didn’t know Tulya’s past, and she preferred it that way. Her father had had a soul as black as pitch, and a fist that hit like a mace. Unlike her parents, who were known to be magic haters and without magic, Tulya had repressed powers. She had repressed them right up until her father killed her mother—and Tulya had killed him in return. She had used the incident as leverage to get herself into a place of power, claiming they both had been murdered by a powerful magic user. No one had suspected she had any magic, and no one ever would. Not unless she wanted them to.

  She wiped the ash away from her face and felt the grit of volcanic dust rub against her forehead. She was thankful that the ash no longer burned with the embers she knew had created it. Enough heat from them could betray her for what she was when her skin fractured.

  Tulya pulled the scarf up further to cover her face as they went through the woods. Trees were overturned, their dead roots hanging as if desperately reaching for the dirt again to live. But they could not survive the way the planet had been ripped apart. Tulya’s heart jumped at the thought. There was something raw and powerful about the way nature bowed to no man. Magic or not.