by Tara West
“I have to try!” Markus cried.
Ryne shook his head before turning first to his father and then Odu. “If he will not kill her then I will go. I may not be as skilled with a weapon, but I am a far better climber.”
“No. This, Ryne, is not your destiny.” The prophet’s tired gaze fell back to the mists. He ran a hand over the stones. An image wafted up from the pool. It was a picture of Ryne leading a band of ice dwellers down the side of a rocky mountain. “You are the only ice dweller with knowledge of the surface. You must find a way for us to escape when the ice is no longer stable.”
Ryne leveled Markus with eyes narrowed to slits. “When she refuses you, for she will refuse you, have your weapons at the ready.”
MARKUS EMERGED FROM the dragon weed crops with a fresh respect for the Gnull Tusks, but also a new understanding: he would climb to the top and he would not fail. He pulled picks from his satchel and strapped on his longer, ice-climbing spikes. The rope and crampons would be left behind. He didn’t need a harness or anchors. All he needed was faith in his ability.
Markus tilted his head and scanned the length of one mighty tusk, which tapered to almost a point at its peak. He closed his eyes and envisioned himself as a human arrow, shooting to the top with dexterity and speed, just as Ura had told him.
Reaching up, Markus planted his picks above his head, making solid contact with the ice. He grabbed hold of them and followed suit by planting one foot in the ice and then the other. He didn’t think, he just acted, as if on instinct, focusing on the thrust of his body as he propelled himself toward the top.
RYNE COULD HARDLY BELIEVE his eyes. Markus had climbed straight to the top of the tusk, moving quickly and smoothly toward its peak. What had transformed the boy that he could shoot up like an arrow piercing its target? Was it simply that his arm had now healed? Or was it something more?
Ryne realized now that he had misjudged the land dweller. Though he still wanted to pound his fist through Markus’s face for kissing his sister, Ryne knew Ura would not be alive if it had not been for him.
But Markus had the chance to save Ura a second time; one more final act of courage. Was Odu right? Had this boy been sent to them for a reason? Would he deliver their people from the malevolent clutches of the witch? Or would Markus’s courage falter when the Ice People needed him most?
After Markus had moved swiftly back down the tusk, Ryne stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing the boy intently. When Markus turned to him, his lips curved into the slightest of smiles and his cheeks reddened, reminding Ryne that the land dweller was still just a boy at heart.
“I climbed to the top,” Markus said proudly, waving a hand toward the tusk.
“So I see,” Ryne answered. He was careful not to lavish any praise on Markus. Not until he knew whether the boy had the courage to do what was right.
For the briefest moment, their gazes locked. But during that time, the look in Markus’s eyes belied his conflicted emotions. Ryne could read his fear and indecision, but he also saw something more; perhaps a fire deep within. Ryne prayed to the Elements that it was true.
“Well?” Ryne watched as Markus placed his picks into his satchel.
“Well what?” the boy asked as he slung his bag over his shoulders.
Ryne wondered why, after everything he had faced in his life, his hands began to tremble now. Was he afraid the boy hunter would refuse to help them? What would he do then? He had already come too close to losing his sister—he couldn’t lose her to the witch now.
Finally, Ryne cleared his throat as he willed his limbs to stop shaking. “Will you risk the lives of an entire kingdom to save the life of one man?”
Markus turned up his chin and leveled him with a defiant glare. “Not just one man—my brother.”
“And when the witch refuses to forgive you?”
Markus’s shoulders dropped. “I-I don’t know.”
The boy’s indecision pricked Ryne’s ire. “Coward,” he spat.
Markus’s eyes widened. “What?”
Ryne marched up to the boy and jabbed a finger in his chest. “You have the power to take her down. You have the power to end her tyranny, Mighty Hunter, and yet you cower behind indecision.”
Markus jerked back and his wan face colored. “I do not cower!”
Ryne clenched his fists, repressing the urge to strike out. “Then do what is right!”
With that, he turned and marched back through the dragon weed crops and toward the Icy Lung, where the frigid air would be a welcome distraction to his dark thoughts. For, if Markus refused to help him, the weight of saving the Ice People would fall entirely on Ryne’s shoulders.
Chapter Eighteen
Markus woke from a fitful night’s sleep and rubbed his eyes. The previous night had been the longest of his life. Between the sounds of Ura’s muted cries and the wild racing of his own heart, which pounded like a drum in his head, Markus could scarcely keep his eyes closed. Today he was going to leave the Ice People.
Today he was going to leave Ura.
Though loath to go, Markus knew he had to. His brother was counting on him. So many times during the night his troubled thoughts had wandered to Alec. His brother had been to him what his parents had not: a loving mentor and a caring friend. In return, Markus had given him nothing but grief, refusing to heed Alec’s sage advice and abusing the forest creatures while thinking of no one but himself.
He had behaved like a monster. But his heart had now changed. He knew he didn’t have to grow to be like his father. Nay, all he wanted was to be a man like Alec. If only Madhea would give him the chance to prove it.
What if she didn’t give him that chance and refused to heed his pleas? Would he risk his brother’s life and shoot Madhea? Could his arrow fell the Goddess or would he only stoke the flames of her ire? And what if she forgave him but refused to forgive the Ice People? How far would he go to protect Ura?
Markus’s only comfort during the night was that Tar slept with him. The dog had made a miraculous recovery after being wounded in the shoulder and buried under an avalanche. He had crawled back into Markus’s bed by the day’s end, and even resumed his nightly habit of licking his nutsack and chewing his anus.
The mutt had been a welcome distraction. Despite his disgusting habits, Markus was relieved that his friend would live. Tar had come to mean so much to him, yet to think, not long ago, how he had despised all animals. How wrong he had been.
“Wake up, land dweller. It is time for us to go.”
“Ouch!” cried Markus, jerking up after Ryne threw his heavy satchel onto his legs.
Markus looked up to see Ryne was already fully dressed and scowling down at him, so he picked up his bag and threw it at the man’s feet.
Dodging the projectile, Ryne burst into laughter. Tar jumped off the cot and landed in between them. He growled at Ryne and then at Markus, before issuing a warning bark.
Tossing back his furs, Markus jumped to his feet, determined to enact revenge on the man who was always taunting him. Didn’t he have enough weight on his shoulders? Why did Ryne always seek to compound his troubles?
But Markus already knew the answer to his question. Ryne was angry with him because he had refused to kill the witch.
As Markus charged across the small room, closing the distance between them, his feet suddenly slowed and he moved with less purpose. He could hardly blame Ryne for hating him, not when he hated himself. What right had he to save just one man when an entire kingdom depended on him?
Markus stopped within an inch of Ryne and looked at the pained expression in his silver eyes. Markus had barely noticed before, but now that Ryne’s sun-kissed skin and hair had paled to an icy translucence, he looked more like Ura, the sister Markus knew Ryne loved with every breath in his body. How could he hate the man who loved Ura so?
Ryne tilted his chin and looked squarely at Markus, the tendons in his neck bulging beneath his translucent skin.
The
tension that sparked between them was palpable. Markus swallowed. If he threw the first punch, Ryne would fight back, and then what? Markus would be no better than a brute acting on impulse. No better than his father, hurting the people he should have been defending.
“Is this how I am to remember the two of you before you leave me?”
Markus spun around at the sound of Ura’s small voice behind him. She was standing in the doorway, clutching the wall with her hands, looking fragile and vulnerable. She was not fully healed and she’d risen from her bed to find them fighting.
The heat of shame crept into Markus’s chest and inflamed his face.
“I’m sorry, sister.” Ryne stepped forward. “We have disturbed your rest. Please, let me help you back to bed.”
“No.” She waved him away while still holding onto the wall with one hand. “I wish to see you off.”
“But you have not fully healed.” Ryne led her by the arm to Markus’s cot. “How do you feel?”
Ura’s lip trembled as she looked first to Markus and then back at Ryne. “Like the very foundation on which I stand has already given way and I am falling into the abyss.”
Ryne shook his head and clutched her hands within his own. “I will not let that happen.”
Ura’s eyes pooled over with moisture. “You cannot make those promises, Ryne.”
“I can promise that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.” Ryne put Ura’s hands to his lips and kissed them. “A promise I made to our mother the day she died birthing you, and a promise I intend to keep.”
“It is not my safety I worry for, Ryne.” Tears spilled down her face as she spoke. “It is yours.”
“I will be careful, just like last time.”
“You were fortunate last time. Odu said the witch has a swirling mist, too, and that she can see far below the mountain.”
“I know this, Ura, and I promise I will be careful.”
“What about you, Markus?” she asked.
Markus shifted on his feet when Ura turned her attention toward him, especially as Ryne was watching him as well. He felt awkward enough after witnessing their tender exchange.
“You need not worry about me,” Markus said, feeling ashamed. He did not deserve her concern.
“But I do, Markus. Who will console me when you are both gone?”
Markus’s heart broke when Ura looked up with glossy eyes.
“You will have Father,” Ryne said.
Ura shook her head as her shoulders slumped inward. “Father’s depression is darker than mine.”
Ryne’s mouth fell open. “Father’s depression?”
“He suffered when you were gone, Ryne.” Ura wiped her eyes as more tears spilled over. “He hides his pain now, but last time you left, Father was a shadow of the man you knew.”
Markus turned as he heard a rustle outside the front door. Jon emerged from behind the flap. His mouth was drawn into a deep frown, and his eyes were framed with dark circles and heavy lines.
“Well, Bane has been sentenced,” Jon said grimly.
Ura released Ryne’s hands and gripped the edge of the cot. “What was his judgment, Father?”
Jon glanced from Ryne to Ura, and then heaved a sigh. “He has been outed.”
Ura’s trembling hands flew to her mouth.
Whatever ‘outed’ meant, Markus knew it wasn’t good. “Outed?” he asked.
“Forced to surface,” Jon answered, pulling down his cloak and raking his fingers through his hair.
“Will he be allowed to return?” Markus wondered.
Jon shook his head. “No. A team of Guardians has already taken him to the top.”
Though Markus knew Bane deserved to be punished, he couldn’t help but feel badly for him. It wasn’t long ago that Markus had been sentenced for his crimes too; not by a council, but by Madhea, and Markus had learned his lesson. If he was fortunate, he would be allowed to return to his brother and, eventually, mayhap he could return to see the Ice People as well. Bane would not have that chance.
“There is more.” Jon’s voice dropped as he lowered himself onto a stool. “Elof Eryll is dead.”
“Dead?” gasped Ura.
“He suffered a fit of the heart during the night. His wife has fallen ill as well.” Jon averted his gaze and stared down at his fists in his lap. “They do not think she will recover.”
“I feel badly for the Eryll clan now,” Ura said in a breathy whisper.
“Do not feel badly, Ura.” Ryne placed a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “They suffered rightly for their son’s cowardice.”
“You are wrong,” Markus snapped. “Bane’s sins are his alone. His entire family should not suffer for them.”
Markus recalled the sound of his mother’s agonizing screams. She had died because of him. He thought of Alec, who had been a good brother and warned him of his cruelty, but Markus had not listened. They should not have suffered for his mistakes.
Ryne narrowed his eyes at Markus. “Bane’s parents raised a coward.”
“But, what of his brother, Gunther?” Markus asked. “He did not flee the gnull and now his family is gone. Should he be made to suffer as well?”
Ryne blinked hard and looked away. Markus only had a momentary glimpse of Ryne’s face, but it appeared that the fire in his eyes had been doused.
“No,” Ryne groaned as his shoulders fell, “the boy should not be made to suffer.”
In that brief moment, Markus hoped Ryne finally understood how he felt about Alec and why he did not want to sacrifice him to Madhea’s curse.
“Ryne, Markus, we need to prepare for your departure,” Jon said. “We should say our goodbyes now. Ura cannot make the walk to the Dragon’s Teeth and I doubt we will have a chance once we reach the crush of people.”
When Ura buried her face in her hands, Jon walked over to her and knelt by her side. “Daughter, we must be strong, for both of their sakes.”
But even as he said it, Markus could not mistake the gloomy shadows circling Jon’s eyes. Here was a man plagued with grief and worry over his family.
Ura lifted her head and wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. “Yes, Father.”
Jon stood and Ryne followed. They stared at one another for the longest time before Jon placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “For the sacrifice you are about to make and for the sacrifices you have already made for our people, I am proud to call you my son. You are a boy no more, but a brave and noble man.”
Ryne frowned before the hard angles of his face solidified into a mask of stone. Only his eyes belied his emotions: a storm appeared to be raging within those grey depths. “I am my father’s son. I’m sorry it took me this long to see it.”
Jon answered by grabbing his son in a fierce hug.
“Do not worry for me, Father,” Ryne said against the man’s neck.
“As futile as telling the glacier not to thaw,” Jon chuckled before releasing Ryne and quickly wiping the moisture from his eyes.
Ryne swallowed before angling his chin. “I will be safe, I promise.” Then he knelt before his sister. “I have not been a good brother to you,” he said in a hushed whisper, just loud enough for Markus to hear.
“No,” said Ura, shaking her head vehemently, “you have been a great brother. Everything you do, I know is to keep our family safe.”
Ryne reached up and cupped her pale cheek. “I love you.”
She reached her arms around his neck and kissed his forehead. “And I you, brother.”
Markus was hardly aware of the moisture that had spilled over his eyelids until Jon stepped in front of his clouded vision.
“Here, Markus, you will have a greater need of this than us.” Jon placed a small sack, secured with a long cord, in Markus’s hands.
His mouth fell open when he peered into the sack. “Your warming stone? I cannot accept this.”
He tried to give the gift back to Jon, but the man took the cord and hung it around Markus’s neck. The heavy sac
k pressed against his chest.
“You must,” Jon said sternly. “You will not survive the climb without it.”
“But your family’s honor?” asked Markus. Jon and his family had already given him so much. He couldn’t take from them the remnant of their once high status.
Jon shook his head. “We do not depend on a stone for honor, Markus.” He placed a hand across his heart. “Our honor is in here.”
Markus’s gaze shifted to Ryne, who was now standing and watching them intently. “Won’t he have need of the stone as well?”
Ryne shrugged. “It is warm where I am going. Besides, Ven will carry his family’s stone.”
Markus was even more shocked by Ryne’s reaction. He knew Ryne despised him, and rightly so, so why didn’t he seem to mind that Markus was taking their stone?
“Take it, Markus, please,” Ura pleaded.
“But...”
Jon turned to his son, heedless of Markus’s protests. “Ryne, you must show Markus the way to the witch’s lair before you break at the pass. You must also remind Markus how to use the stone.”
Ryne answered with a slight tilt of the head. “Yes, Father.”
Markus looked at the sack hanging around his neck and clasped it within his grasp. It was cold to him now, but he had seen its power. He knew it would prove to be quite useful on the freezing journey toward the top.
“If I should survive, I will return it,” he said.
A slight smile tugged at the corner of Jon’s mouth. “I know you will.”
“Thank you for this, and for everything,” Markus said to Jon as he struggled to keep the emotion out of his voice. “I wish my father had been more like you.”
The sharp edges around Jon’s eyes softened. He reached out to Markus and pulled him into an embrace. “I’m sorry your father was unkind. You and your brother deserved better,” he said into his ear. “I know I’ve told you this before, but you have goodness in you. You do not need to follow the path of your father.”
Markus relished the warmth of Jon’s hug before pulling back and meeting the man’s gaze. “I know this now. Thank you for helping me to believe it.”
