Beasts of the Frozen Sun

by Jill Criswell

  “I’m not looking for anyone.”

  “That doesn’t mean he’s not looking for you.”

  After Quinlan left, I went to the stables. My horse was dead and Rhys’s was gods-knew-where with the blind mystic, so I sought Garreth’s stallion, Wraith, pressing my face against his neck, running my hands over his smoke-gray coat. He peered at me with the curious dark mirrors of his eyes.

  I caught sight of my own reflection in them, loathing what I saw, envying Wraith’s ignorance. Though part of him must have sensed Garreth’s absence, Wraith didn’t know he was gone. He didn’t know the world had changed and would never be the same again.

  On the nights when I could escape notice, I crept from my cottage and passed the hours with Reyker. We walked through the forest, sat in the glow grove, or lounged beside the brook. I stole food from the great hall’s kitchens, and we dined on salted fish and oaten bread. We flailed and fumbled our way through conversations, speaking with our gestures as much as our mouths, collecting crumbs of each other’s languages.

  Each time I visited, I entered his soul.

  I experienced his boyhood: training at combat, playing with other children, hunting with his father. I witnessed the man he’d become: honing his battle skills, laughing and drinking ale with comrades, hunting alone in snow-covered mountains that spewed liquid fire. I learned the terrain of Iseneld, his homeland, as we swam in cold rivers and climbed black-rock cliffs beneath skies streaked with green and violet light. I learned Reyker as well, immersed in his past. For every warm, light-filled experience I drew out of him, I unearthed another made of cold darkness: bloody battles, betrayals, loss.

  Never had I spent so much time in someone’s soul. Reliving his history drained us both. I might have given up if it hadn’t been so important, if the fate of my people didn’t rest on healing Reyker’s soul. He might have refused, had he not wanted his redemption as much as I did. Over and over, he consented, and I failed. The light in him, the hope I found, wasn’t strong enough to defeat his darkness.

  I’d learned nothing more of the Savage—who he was, why he’d murdered Reyker’s father. Why he’d marked me. There were things Reyker kept hidden, memories he wouldn’t let me touch.

  “How do you do it?” I asked. “No one’s ever been able to control what I find inside their soul or speak to me while I’m there. Why can you?”

  He shrugged. “Nai enki.”

  We were headed to the northern bluffs, one of the only places along the coasts near Stony Harbor where no sentries had been stationed because they were impossibly tall for an enemy to climb. It was a long walk, but I wanted to show Reyker my favorite place. “I’m the only one who’s read your soul?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Can you sense me inside you? What does it feel like?”

  Cupping his hands, he captured a sparkfly floating nearby. “Oppne.” He jerked his chin at my hands. I obliged, and he slipped the insect onto my waiting palms. The sparkfly’s legs tickled my skin. Blue light seeped between my clasped fingers.

  “You.” Reyker tapped his chest then spread his fingers around his heart, like rays of a small sun. I smiled shyly. It was odd, the intimacy we shared. I’d stumbled through his soul, inhabited his skin, yet we were still near strangers.

  I opened my hands, setting the sparkfly free.

  When we arrived at the bluffs, I told him about the time I’d spent here, alone and with my family. I told him how often I’d looked to the west and wondered what was out there. “Iseneld,” I said, pointing at the horizon.

  His eyes followed my finger, clouded with longing. “Home.”

  “You miss it.” It wasn’t a question. In his memories, I’d felt his love for his homeland. As much as I wanted to explore the world, I couldn’t imagine being stranded a thousand leagues from Glasnith. “You’ll see it again.”

  Reyker said nothing. He turned away.

  That was when I heard the noise: a murmur, barely audible. The scar behind my ear grew cold and my head began to ache. I closed my eyes, listening.

  I find you, he said. You are mine, little warrior. Come to me.

  Dread pooled in my veins, spreading through my limbs. In the darkness behind my eyelids, greenish-gold eyes glowed. Staring into me. My legs moved at the Savage’s command, drawing me forward. I struggled to pull free from the waking nightmare, but I was trapped.

  The scar of flame on my wrist tingled with warmth.

  “No,” I told the Savage.

  As quickly as his influence had overtaken me, I clawed my way through, cast it off, and my body was my own again. My eyes flew open. Before me, there was nothing but ocean, infinite and gray. I was poised on the rim of the bluffs. A gust of wind set me off balance, and I tipped forward.

  Gray. It was everywhere. It was all that was left of the world.

  Something jerked me back. Reyker’s arms gripped me, pulling me from the edge.

  He crushed me against him, just for a moment. Beneath my cheek, his heart pounded. Then he pushed me away, still holding my arms, talking fast in Iseneldish.

  My fear was gone, leaving only anger—Reyker knew who the Savage was, and he was hiding it from me. While he struggled to ask me what happened, I slipped my hand into his tunic, pressing my palm to his chest. I barged into his soul, finding it unguarded, and plucked a forbidden memory from beneath the river of black flames.

  I sit in a small, dark room. The floor is hard beneath me. Sunk into one wall is a heavily barred door.

  “Lay down, Reyker.” A woman with ivory skin and golden hair sits beside me. Her eyes are a deep, unyielding blue. “You’ve not slept in days.”

  My voice is young, fragile. “I can’t. He finds me there.”

  Outside the walls are sounds of war—clashing steel, men shouting, heavy feet racing about. Tears slide down the woman’s cheeks. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you.”

  “I’m no child.” I squeeze the sword at my hip. “I’m a warrior. I’ll defend you, Mother.”

  “I forget you’re nearly a man.” She smiles through her tears, and then she begins to sing, her voice sweet and clear and lulling.

  My eyelids flutter. I’m so tired. She leads my head down to rest upon her lap, singing a cradlesong about lambs huddling together for warmth in winter. Before drifting off, I hear her whisper, “You’ll be a good man, my son. I know you’ll make me proud.”

  The memory dissolved. I floated on the black river, cupped within the canyon walls, my mind crowded with confusion—this was not what I’d gone looking for. Why was Reyker hiding memories of his mother?

  How could you? Reyker’s thoughts spooled around me, dripping scorn. This is my life you trespass in; my scars you rip open so carelessly!

  “I never meant—”

  We’re done with this, Lira. Your gods were wrong. I cannot be redeemed.

  He shoved me from his soul and I returned to myself with a gasp. Reyker still gripped me, panting with fury.

  I should’ve let it go, but I couldn’t. “Did she die? Your mother?”

  Reyker stiffened. “Yes.”

  There was a world of pain in that one gruff word.

  The mystic had shown me how Reyker lost his father. And Reyker had shown me a memory of his older brother, Aldrik, riding away to join a patrol in the service of their jarl. Reyker had stood on the tallest hill in the village every day for weeks, watching the horizon, waiting for Aldrik’s return. But his brother never made it home.

  These losses had damaged him, but the loss of his mother went deeper. I’d felt it inside his soul as he watched the memory of her. It had gutted him.

  I knew how it hurt to lose a mother.

  “I’m sorry.” I rested my forehead lightly against his chest. He leaned forward in response.

  It started as comfort, but then his breath quickened. So did mine. I could put my arm
s around him. I could reach up, touch his face. His lips. He’d let me, if I wanted to. Did I want to?

  The night grew silent. We teetered on the crest of a wave.

  Enemy. Killer. Beast.

  We broke apart, pulling away at the same moment, avoiding each other’s eyes. The crash of sea against rock, the drone of insects, the shiver of wind returned. The only silence was between us.

  “Let’s head back,” I said hoarsely. He grunted in agreement.

  If the night’s events had ended there, it would have been plenty, but the gods weren’t done with us yet.

  We’d not gone far when a scuffling sound made us both go still.

  A silhouette emerged beneath a thatch of trees a stone’s throw from where we stood. The thing that stood there was as tall as a horse, as wide as an ox, but it was neither. Its sleek blue-black coat blended perfectly with the night. I couldn’t see it clearly, I could only make out hooves and talons, messy shards of bone jutting from the sides of its head like antlers. Glowing orange eyes that were almost human.

  I stared at the forest demon. It stared back.

  There were many tales of what they were, where they’d come from. They had dwelled here long before my village existed, protectors of the forest, killing those who harmed the land or its people.

  Reyker snatched my sword from its sheath, moving between me and the monster. Its orange eyes shifted to watch him, black lips stretching into a grimace over carnivore-sharp teeth. All it saw was a Westlander, one of the men who’d used the forest to conceal themselves when they came to unleash their destruction.

  “No.” I stepped forward.

  “Lira!” Reyker put an arm out, barring my path. The demon hissed.

  Every child in Stony Harbor was taught the ancient tongue of Lord Llewlin and the first men of Glasnith. I was rusty, but I remembered well enough. “Stop in the name of Veronis,” I commanded in the old language. I pulled the medallion from my bodice, holding it up so the demon could see. If Veronis had been the god of all creatures, perhaps the forest demon remembered his master as the Brine Beast had. “I am a scion of Glasnith, a Daughter of Aillira. This man is under my protection.”

  The demon stamped its hoof.

  “I’m a guardian of this land, as you are.” I shoved past Reyker. “He’s not like the others. He’s done no wrong. If you mean him harm, you must go through me.”

  There was an uncanny sentience in the demon’s watchful gaze. Tense moments passed before it widened its jaws and loosed a bloodcurdling bleat. I never saw it move, but between one heartbeat and the next, the demon was gone.

  Only then did I realize how badly my legs were shaking.

  Reyker stared at the space where the demon had been. “What …?” He looked at me, dumbfounded. “What …?”

  “I believe the words you’re looking for are thank you.” I braced myself against a tree until I felt steady enough to walk.

  “Duma soolka,” he grumbled. Stupid girl.

  But his eyes held a hint of respect.

  Ishleen’s blade caught mine, and my sword sailed out of my hands. Again.

  “Where’s your head?” she asked. “I’ve never beaten you at swords before.”

  We’d been practicing our swordplay in a sheltered cove off the harbor. Since the invasion, Ishleen had taken a renewed interest in learning to defend herself. Garreth used to instruct us, but today we fumbled through on our own.

  I’d lost my sword at least ten times. “I’m tired is all. Didn’t sleep well.”

  There were many things I trusted Ishleen with, but Reyker’s life wasn’t one of them. She’d been attacked by a Westlander. She’d never understand.

  “You’re hiding something,” Ishleen said. “Traipsing about with that up-to-no-good glint in your eye, like some bonny lad just blew you a kiss. Is it Quinlan? Have you abandoned pledging yourself to Aillira’s Temple and decided to marry him at last?”

  “No.” I didn’t want to speak of Quinlan. I missed him, and the ache of our parting was still too fresh.

  She pursed her lips, thinking. “Then perhaps you have a secret suitor?”

  “Of course not. And I don’t have a glint.”

  “Do so. You may as well tell me. I’ll find you out, one way or another.”

  Ishleen’s sword flew at me. I blocked her strike, thrusting it aside. “Think what you like,” I said. “There’s nothing to tell.”

  At least, not for much longer. Reyker’s patience had already been waning, and when I stole the memory of his mother, it had run dry. He’d decided to leave Stony Harbor, with or without my help. The blind mystic had told me to lead Reyker to the light and send him back to his Ice Gods. I’d done what I could to redeem him. Hopefully it was enough.

  The time had come to set my wolf free.

  Before I sent Reyker away, I needed to get him a map of Glasnith, as I’d promised.

  It was easy enough to get past Torin’s attendants and into his library while the chieftain was off meeting with his councilors, to rummage through his desk until I found a stack of maps, setting aside a suitable one that shouldn’t be missed right away. I secured the roll of parchment beneath the folds in my skirts and was about to leave when I heard Torin and Madoc enter the manor and head for the library door.

  There wasn’t time to sneak out a window, and there was nowhere to hide except under the desk. It would be far worse to be caught hiding than to stand in plain sight, as if I’d done nothing wrong. I steeled myself and waited. As they came closer, I listened to their heated conversation.

  “Threaten the mercenaries,” Torin was saying. “Tell them we’ll withhold their cut of herbs, grain, and lumber. They’ll get nothing if they allow an envoy from the Frozen Sun into their village.”

  “I’m handling the barbarians,” Madoc said. “I’ve already sent missives to the chieftains of the Bog Men and the Ravenous.”

  “If they’re considering this, it means they’re considering an alliance. If the mercenary clans ally with the Westlanders, they’ll try to take control of Glasnith. It will be civil war. We cannot let such a thing happen.”

  I stifled a gasp. The library door swung open.

  When they saw me, the two men fell silent. “You should be more careful about leaving your doors unlocked, brother,” Madoc said. “You never know what sort of vermin might slip inside.”

  “What’s the meaning of this, Lira?” Torin asked.

  I scowled at Madoc, clearing my throat. “I was hoping to speak with you, Lord Torin.”

  Torin paused. “Leave us, Madoc. We’ll finish this discussion later.” He shut the door behind his brother and waved a hand at me.

  “I’ve made my decision,” I said. “I wish to pledge myself to Aillira’s Temple.”

  It was an excuse. It also happened to be the truth.

  Trying to help Reyker heal the wounds in his soul had been exhausting and frustrating, but it was also the first time my life had ever felt truly meaningful. I had a gift that could help people. I was weak, untrained, but I could learn. I could get stronger. When I’d visited the temple as a child, I’d been awed by the libraries filled with books both new and ancient, the lecture halls where priestesses taught lessons on history and literature. Now I could feel the knowledge contained in the temple walls almost within my grasp.

  “This is what the gods made me for,” I said. “It’s my chance to have a life that matters.”

  Torin remained silent. I played the one card I had that might make him listen.

  “This is the best way to honor Mother’s sacrifice.” I toyed with my medallion. At the temple, maybe I could find out more about the followers of the Forbidden Scriptures and the things my mother had believed. “Please, Father. Let me go.”

  Torin studied me for several tense moments. When he slowly nodded his head, my heart lightened, my spirits lifted.
“No,” he said.

  “No?”

  “You were born to serve this clan. The temple doesn’t need you. And nothing you do will ever justify your mother’s death.” He brushed past me and sat at his desk, considering the matter closed.

  I stood there awkwardly. I’d hoped, but had I truly believed he’d say yes after everything that had happened since the Culling? With nothing left to lose, I spit out the question that had haunted me for years. “Do you wish it was me who’d died instead of Mother?”

  Torin stared out the window. “Sometimes.”

  The word hit me like a punch. Had he said yes, I could’ve told myself he was being cruel, but this answer sounded more like a confession.

  I stopped in the doorway. With my back to him, I said, “So do I.”

  I arrived at the hovel earlier than usual that night and found it empty. Making my way to the brook, I saw Reyker through the trees, rinsing off in waist-deep water. Tendrils of hair clung to his face and neck. Water trickled down his shoulders and chest.

  I made a small, involuntary sound.

  Reyker grabbed his spear, searching the woods. When he spotted me staring, he stared back. Finally, I found my voice. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  He put the spear down. I turned my back as he climbed out of the brook and pulled on his trousers. “Hope you’re hungry,” I said, holding up my satchel.

  Knowing this would be his last full meal for some time, I’d raided the great hall’s kitchens. I forced as much food on Reyker as he could eat while we pored over the map I’d stolen from Torin’s library. Reyker traced the path he would take—through the Tangled Forest, between the Silverspire Mountains, across the Green Desert, down to Stalwart Bay on the eastern coast.

  “It’s the biggest village in Glasnith. From Stalwart you can seek passage on a ship to the Auk Isles.” My finger traveled east over the sea, to the archipelago. “Their language is similar to Glasnithian. You can hide out there until you find a ship heading west. But I’m still not sure what to do about all this.” I gestured to Reyker’s hair, his face, his body.