by Tara West
Ura’s heart leapt into her throat as an image of Markus encapsulated in ice flashed through her mind. She pulled back from Tar and rose on shaky legs. “Let us not talk of death now.”
Jon cleared his throat and, splaying his arms wide, he spoke to the crowd. “Ura is right. My son lives.” He stepped up to Ryne and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Tonight we feast and celebrate his return.”
Several cheers erupted from the crowd. A few of the Ice People hesitantly approached Ura’s family and offered their congratulations, while keeping wary eyes on Tar. The dog sat on his rear haunches and wagged his massive tail as his gaze darted from one person to the next.
After most of the community had dispersed, Ryne leaned toward Ura and whispered into her ear, “I’m famished. Land dwellers eat nothing but tough, stringy meat.”
“Well, you are in luck,” she replied. “Father has just skinned some lazy-eyed serpents.”
Ura wasn’t entirely sure, but she thought she heard Markus groan behind her.
WHILE MARKUS HAD HOPED they would dine in the solitude of Jon’s quiet home, to his dismay the large chamber where they had found Ryne was also a dining hall of sorts. The round hall was not as well-lit as Ura’s home, but it received a soft, pleasing illumination from above. Markus could not be sure, but it seemed that the ice crystals glowed just like the spikes in the prophet’s chamber. The walls were draped in various furs while others were stacked in piles against them.
A warmth seeped into Markus’s bones that was unlike anything he’d experienced so far in Ice Kingdom. It reminded him of nights at home beside the hearth fire, minus one drunken, raging father.
As more and more ice dwellers filed into the chamber and spread out furs in the center of the floor, Markus’s senses were accosted by a strange odor, which wafted from the far side of the cavern. He knew the smell to be lazy-eyed serpents being roasted, and although his stomach ached for nourishment, he did not relish the notion of swallowing slimy fish.
To make matters worse, Markus soon discovered that wherever he chose to stand turned out to be someone else’s sitting space and he was told more than once to move out of the way by a less-than-hospitable ice dweller. After much shuffling about, Markus was finally relegated to sit in a darkened corner near Ryne’s mongrel, as if he couldn’t be brought any lower this day.
The dog whimpered as he drooled over the fur beneath him, all the while keeping his sharp gaze on Ryne, who, alongside his father, seemed to be engaged in a heated debate with several older Ice People.
Markus groaned as he saw Ura approach with two steaming bowls of food. If it were at all possible, the dog beside him salivated even more.
“Here.” Ura handed Markus a bowl of what resembled gooey serpent stew. “This time you will like it,” she said, wagging a finger while glowering above him. “And, if you don’t, you will eat it anyway.”
Markus eyed the bowl suspiciously, his throat tightening at the sight of the slimy mush. Loathe though he was to touch the offending dish, Markus knew that Ura’s offering was made with the best intentions, so he raised the bowl to his lips and sipped some of the broth. Accidentally swallowing a long serpent tendril, Markus nearly choked on the ooze as it slid down his throat, but for Ura’s sake he drank it.
He tentatively looked up at her while plastering a smile across his face. “Mmm,” he said with forced enthusiasm.
Ura scowled, looking rather unconvinced at his false display. “You land dwellers have no taste.” She sat cross-legged beside him and took a hearty swallow of her stew.
We do have taste. That is the problem.
But Markus refused to voice his opinion aloud. Ura and Jon had taken him in and cared for him, and judging by the glares he received from the others, Markus knew he was lucky to have two friends in Ice Kingdom.
Tar drooled even more while he watched them with eager eyes. If Markus was not so hungry, he would have gladly given his food to the mutt. He warily eyed the stew again, deciding that his best option would be to plug his nose and swallow the whole bowl in several gulps.
Whimpering, Tar inched closer.
Markus’s ire rose. He had never been overly fond of dogs and this beggar was no exception.
“What is this? Have you begun eating without me?” Ryne hovered above Markus and Ura, his brow marred in a heavy frown.
Ura smiled at her brother. “Your dog has been drooling all over the fur. Have you been starving him?”
“No.” Ryne chuckled. “I have been collecting serpent fins.” He pulled a handful of the scorched things out of his pocket and threw one to Tar. The dog leapt up and snapped up the fin in one greedy gulp. Licking his jowls clean, he let out a satisfactory bark while eagerly eyeing his master.
Ryne threw a few more fins into the air and Tar jumped up, catching each one with ease. The nearest ice dwellers stopped eating long enough to point and gasp as man and dog continued their tricks.
Markus watched with envy as Tar seemed to enjoy his meal. From the looks of the fins, they reminded him of dried meats. “Might I try a fin?” he asked.
Ryne frowned. “These scraps?”
“Aye, might I try one?” Markus struggled to keep the pleading whine out of his voice lest he, too, sounded like a begging mongrel.
Scowling, Ryne tossed him one.
Markus moaned with pleasure as he bit into the tough, crunchy meat. He chewed with haste and swallowed before holding out his hand for another.
“Oh, Markus,” Ura cried, “that is disgusting.”
Ryne shook his head. He dumped several fins into Markus’s outstretched hand before tossing another one to the dog. “You land dwellers have no taste for good food.”
Ura sighed. “That’s what I’ve been telling him.”
“And, you!” Ryne turned a mirthful gaze on the whimpering dog. “You shameless beggar. The least you could do is work harder for your scraps. Watch this,” he said, winking at Ura. “Fetch!” he called out to Tar.
Ryne stepped back a few paces and then threw the fin a great distance, causing several ice dwellers to screech and swear as Tar leapt over their heads, scrambling for the bait.
“Amazing!” said Ura, leaning on her knees and clapping her hands. “Markus, did you see that?”
He shrugged. “I have seen many a dog do tricks.”
Ryne looked at Markus with eyes narrowed to slits. “What have you against dogs?”
From what Markus had seen of mutts, they were only good for retrieving waterfowl, but he preferred the taste of venison or boar anyway. His father either shot or scared away the few foolish dogs that had invaded their homestead as they only sought to steal food.
“Other than the plague-infested vermin they carry on their backs? The drool and the smell?” Markus did not try to conceal the disdain in his voice.
Ryne snickered as he leaned over and patted Tar on the head. “What about loyalty, bravery, and companionship?”
Markus had to repress a laugh as he looked at the dog who was too busy gnawing on a serpent fin to even acknowledge his master’s affection.
“My brother is all those things,” Markus said, “so I’ve never had need for a dog.”
“Oh?” Ryne folded his arms across his chest and leveled Markus with a smug expression. “Was your brother there to save you when you fell through the ice?”
“No, but neither was a dog.”
Ryne shook his head. “If you would have had a dog...”
“...he would have been killed by the dragon for his foolish temerity,” Markus interjected.
“Tar saved my life,” Ryne said, with an edge of finality.
Ura gasped, “You were almost killed?”
“Oh, several times,” said Ryne, shrugging; his face a mask of indifference as if near-death experiences were all just natural occurrences. “As your land dweller can tell you, scaling ice and snow is no easy task. There was this one time when my rope broke and I fell into a crevasse nearly four men high. I was standing on a ledge and
beneath me, where my picks had fallen, was a dark chasm. I thought I was done for.”
Ura’s pale eyes grew even wider. “How did you escape?”
“Tar found me.” Ryne nodded toward the dog eagerly awaiting his next fin. “It took him almost an entire day. His paws were raw and bleeding. I knew he had to dig out much ice and snow to reach me.”
“I love Tar,” Ura breathed, wiping a bead of moisture from her eye. She leaned over and pulled a fin out of Markus’s grip before tossing the meat to the dog.
“Don’t feed him all of my food,” Markus grumbled. Then he moaned even more when he noticed Bane approaching, followed by a handful of other serpent-eyed young men.
When Bane reached them, he spread his arms out wide. “How convenient these land dwellers are,” he said, loudly enough to silence the other ice dwellers sitting nearby. “They retrieve and eat our garbage, just like the fanged Kraehn.”
As Markus growled under his breath, he was startled by Tar snarling. His gaze shot to the dog, glaring at Bane with feral intensity. Well, at least he and the mutt shared a common interest, other than serpent fins.
Bane ignored the dog as he flashed a forced smile. “We are all relieved at your safe return. Your sister was most distraught in your absence.” His lecherous gaze shot to Ura. “I’ve done all I can to comfort her.”
Ryne angled his chin while squaring his shoulders. “My sister needs no comforting from the likes of you.”
Bane’s mask of insincerity fell. “Tell your dumb beast to stop growling at me,” he hissed, reminding Markus of a slithery serpent.
Ryne regarded Bane for a long moment before breaking into a wide grin. “He’s no dumb beast. He was trained to protect his family from unwelcome intruders.”
Bane sneered back and then glanced at the dog. “His fur will make a nice rug.”
“Touch my dog, Bane,” said Ryne, his voice rising several octaves, “and you will find yourself skinned instead.”
Many ice dwellers gawked at the pair as they exchanged malevolent glares.
“Guard him well,” Bane snickered, “’ere he might end up as gnull bait.”
With a roar, Ryne leaped up and snatched Bane by the collar of his hooded cloak.
Markus struggled to his feet and stood at Ryne’s back, should he need assistance.
Bane cried out and shielded his face with his hands while his friends backed up several paces.
Jon stormed over, waving his hands wildly while shooing away Bane’s companions. “Let him go, Ryne.”
Ryne released Bane with a shove.
Bane stumbled backward, nearly falling on his backside before scurrying away, but Markus did not miss the look of hatred in his eyes before he turned his back.
Jon grabbed Ryne by the shoulder and spoke in a low growl, just loud enough for Markus to hear. “Bane is not worth it. You need no more enemies when you present your case to the Council.”
Ryne heaved a groan before sitting beside Ura. “I have never counted on the Eryll clan. I do not expect their support now.”
Markus and Jon sat down, across from the two siblings, so they formed a tight circle upon the fur. Tar sat beside Ryne whose narrowed gaze was lost among the crowd of Ice People.
Markus wondered if the mutt was still watching Bane. For a moment, he almost respected the dog’s loyalty to his master, but then he surmised that he had probably only seen Bane as a threat to his food source.
Ura leaned into Ryne and grasped him by the hand. “What have you seen above the ice, brother?”
Ryne’s somber expression traveled from his sister to his father. “The ice melts at an alarming rate.”
Jon cleared his throat. “You have seen this?”
Ryne nodded. “The river leading from our glacier swells. Villages, which were once a safe distance from the water’s edge, have been washed away and dams are breaking. I followed its path down to the ocean. The tides are rising.”
Ura’s mouth fell open. “What will happen to us?”
“I do not know how many more winters our kingdom will hold,” Ryne said, “but we will need to surface before the foundation crumbles.”
Ura’s hands flew to her mouth. “The witch will destroy us all!”
Ryne pounded the fur with his fist. “Not if I destroy her first!”
Ura gasped, “Ryne, no! Do not say such dark things. She will kill you!” Her words ended on a shrill sob.
Jon’s gaze shot to the ice dwellers, many of whom now stared at Ura while whispering to one another.
Markus repressed an urge to lash out at them. He was growing tired of their nosey gawking.
“Ura, be calm,” Jon whispered.
She jumped to her feet. “Do not tell me to be calm!”
Ryne rose too, reaching for his sister’s hand. “Ura,” he said in a strained voice.
She shook off his grip as tears streamed down her face. Then she turned and ran.
Markus struggled to stand with his one good arm and watched helplessly as Ura disappeared into the dark corridor beyond the hall. Although he did not know his way around the icy fortress, he knew he should go after her.
Jon stood and planted his hand on Markus’s back. “Leave her be. She will be back.”
Markus turned to Jon, seeing only sadness in the older man’s eyes. “Where does she go?”
From behind them Ryne answered, “A place where she can escape the weight of her sorrow.”
If Ice Kingdom was truly melting, Markus guessed the weight of Ura’s sorrows must have been great. He realized his own problems were insignificant in comparison to the plight of the Ice People.
Soon they would have nowhere to live, and what would Madhea do to them then? What would Madhea do to Ura?
Chapter Twelve
Ryne followed his father to the Council’s chamber. He glanced down at Tar, trotting beside him, and then at the land dweller, who trailed in their wake, clumsily treading the ice like a newborn learning his first steps. Every so often, Ryne and his father had to stop to give the brooding giant time to catch up.
Why had Father allowed Ura to take in this stranger?
From what Ryne had heard during his brief stay in Kicelin, the boy hunter had brought this dragon’s curse on his head by abusing animals. Ryne thought the punishment fit the crime, not that the Ice Witch needed a reason to curse anyone. For his father’s sake, Ryne had decided to tolerate his presence, but if the boy threatened any member of his family, Tar included, Ryne would not hesitate to strike him down.
Every muscle in Ryne’s body tensed as they crossed the frozen dock and neared the boat that would take them across Crystal Lake to the Council’s chamber. The lake sat at the heart of Ice Kingdom’s darkest cavern, the ceiling of which was so steep and black that no one had ever dared to climb it. The cavern was illuminated by a few hanging ice crystals, which clung to the outer walls, and by the oarsman’s lamp at the prow of the boat.
After removing their spikes, Ryne and his father stepped into the boat and sat together on the furthest bench. Without hesitation, Tar jumped in and settled on a fur-lined bench in the center.
Ryne looked at the land dweller with raised brows and an expectant glare. The boy’s sun-kissed skin suddenly took on the hue of ice as he shuffled from one foot to the next, his gaze darting from the boat to the smooth body of water they would need to cross to reach the Council.
“Are you coming, Markus?” Jon asked.
Ryne laughed under his breath. The look in the boy hunter’s eyes resembled that of a trapped animal.
The land dweller shook his head. “I doubt that boat would hold my weight.”
“Nonsense, Markus.” Jon chuckled and then pointed to the opposite bench. “This boat is sturdy.”
It was true, the boy was large, but Ryne had seen up to six council members squeeze into the boat. Its bow was made of two hollowed-out tusks of a gnull and wrapped in its thick hide. Since it took a dozen hunters to take down the menacing beast, which was more than thri
ce the size of a giant snowbear, Ryne knew the boat was sturdy enough to hold the weight of the land dweller.
After a little more coaxing from Jon, Markus sat on the bench opposite them, his hands clenched by his sides and his body so stiff that he looked like a stone statue. He nearly jumped out of his seat when the oarsman pushed off and began paddling across the glassy surface.
While Ryne suspected the water’s smooth, dark depths could appear frightening to an outsider, he had seen much bigger bodies of water. In truth, Crystal Lake was the size of a large pond, but its inky reaches knew no limits. None of his people had ever dared to swim more than a few feet below the surface, and then only for a moment as the frigid temperature was enough to kill a man within a few heartbeats. Many of the village fishermen had tried to gauge the water’s extent, but their lines failed to reach the bottom.
Ryne watched with amusement as Markus’s hands shook by his sides.
“How is it that a lake exists here when all around us is ice?” the boy asked.
“There is a thermal pocket beneath us, just warm enough to melt this pool of ice,” Jon explained. As they crossed the center of the lake, he waved to a small pinpoint of light, deep below the surface. “See the light there?”
Markus swallowed. “Could this be why your ice is melting?”
“No,” Ryne replied. “The thaw is not coming from within, but from outside.”
Markus nodded before his gaze became transfixed on the water. “I’ve seen bigger lakes, but none so dark or cold.” He shuddered and then rubbed his arms. “It is the calm that is most unsettling.”
Ryne knew from his travels that many land dwellers were unsettled by the calm. “There’s a village named Aloa-Shay, where the land meets the sea. They have a saying that goes ‘only fools set sail in tranquil waters.’”
Jon hitched a brow. “Why is this?”
“The calm usually precedes the wrath of Eris.”
“Eris? Who is she?” Jon asked.
“The Sea Witch,” replied Ryne, not bothering to mask the disdain in his voice.
Jon’s face twisted, making him look as if he had just swallowed raw serpent entrails. “Another cursed witch?”
