by Tara West
Jon broke into a broad grin. “A man’s greatest strength is his heart. Do not be afraid to use it.”
Markus nodded. “I won’t.”
Jon turned to his son and clasped him around the shoulder. “Come, Ryne, let us walk. Markus can catch up.”
After Ryne and Ura had exchanged a final hug, father and son were both out the door, and Markus was left alone with Ura. Had Jon wanted to leave them alone together?
Markus spun around to find that Ura was already standing only a breath away. She reached out and grasped his hand in her own, before slipping something soft and feathery into his palm. “Here.”
Markus looked down at his hand and gasped. “Your hair, Ura?”
“Yes.” She nodded while batting pale lashes.
Markus hardly knew what to say as he stared down at the silky lock. This gift she’d given him was a treasure beyond words. His mouth suddenly felt parched. He had to swallow hard before summoning the courage to speak. “If I should survive...”
“I will wait for you,” she answered.
Markus shook his head. He didn’t deserve Ura and he knew it down to the marrow in his bones. But some part of him, some selfish part, wanted to claim her for his own. “I have nothing to give you.”
“There’s only one thing I want,” Ura said in a breathy whisper, and she leaned up and kissed him.
As Markus pressed his lips against hers, deepening the kiss, he realized that he did have something he could give Ura. He could kill the witch. But did he have the right to trade his brother’s life for hers?
Chapter Nineteen
Markus realized that just about every ice dweller in the kingdom had come to see them off as he followed Ryne, Tar, and Jon through the crush. Ven and the other volunteers were waiting for them on a dais carved out of ice. Ingred, the new Chieftain, was there as well, looking down at her people with her mouth set in a grim line. With her giant nose, she resembled a hawk guarding her nest.
Ven offered Ryne and Markus a hesitant smile as they climbed the steps to the dais. Markus was glad to see Ven’s transformation. He, too, had learned that cruelty served no purpose.
Markus’s gaze swept the columns behind them. There were many, some as tall and wide as Markus, with pointy spikes at the tips. Others were giant prisms reflecting myriad colors of light as the thin curtain of ice above them mirrored the sun’s rays.
So, these were the Dragon’s Teeth and where Ura had first found him. The tallest tooth was as wide as a lyme tree at the base. Markus craned his neck as he struggled to gage the width of the tip, which looked to be no larger than he was.
Markus swallowed hard, realizing just how lucky he’d been to survive the fall into Ice Kingdom. He hoped he wouldn’t repeat the same mistake and lose his grip on the mountain. His sense of dread only made the wait more agonizing. He wished to be off.
Tapping his boot, Markus looked around anxiously. The Chieftain and Jon were engaged in a deep discussion with Ryne and the others. Tar stood beside his master, whimpering as he scanned the crowd. The ice dwellers below were abuzz with chatter.
A hand grabbed his shoulder, making Markus clench his fists and spin around. He breathed a sigh of relief. It was Odu, stooped over an old cane, his spine so crooked and bent that he looked to carry an invisible weight on his back.
His bushy eyebrows pinched together. “You look troubled, boy hunter.”
Markus bit back a sardonic laugh. “You could say that.” How could he not be when he was about to exchange his shelter for an unknown fate? He might never see Ura or Alec again.
The prophet shook his head as he lifted his gaze to the ceiling. “There is something more to this curse.”
“What?”
“The witch cares nothing for animals.” The prophet tapped his cane on the ice, making a loud, splintering crack. “Do you think she spared the livestock and pets when she first set her dragon upon the Ice People’s ancestors? And what do you think she does with that dragon when she has no need for it?”
“I-I don’t know,” Markus stammered.
“She locks the monster up in a chamber of ice, sealed by a veil of magic.”
Markus’s limbs froze over with fear. If Madhea cared nothing for animals, why did she send her dragon for him? Why did she place a curse upon his head that would kill his mother and threaten his brother? His muscles tensed and his throat tightened.
“Then why curse me?” he asked with strained breath.
“That is the question.” Odu waved a bony hand at the side of Markus’s face. “It’s almost as puzzling as why you were born with that mark, for it took great magic to gift you with such skill.”
Instinctively, Markus’s hand flew to the side of his head. His father had told him that Madhea had blessed him with the Hunter’s Mark. Had she meant to curse him instead?
“If it is not over the animals then I have done nothing to anger her. Madhea has no other reason to curse me.”
“So it would seem.” Odu reached into his pocket. “If you survive the encounter with the witch, would you pass this on to my brother? I haven’t written him in more than three hundred years. I think a letter is long overdue.”
Odu handed a rolled-up scroll to Markus, who took it with a trembling hand. He ran his thumb over its soft texture.
“Eel skin.” Odu’s mouth hitched up in a nearly toothless grin. “Parchment is so hard to come by down here.”
The prophet turned from Markus and slowly made his way toward the Chieftain.
Markus stuffed the scroll into his fur-lined pocket and let his hand linger there for a moment. Then he traced the silky texture of the lock of Ura’s hair with the pad of his thumb, hoping the lingering memory of her would ease the trembling in his fingers.
Could Odu be right? Did Madhea care nothing for the woodland creatures? If so, what grudge did she hold against him?
The group broke their tight circle and the Chieftain walked toward the edge of the dais. As she lifted her hands into the air, palms facing outward, a hush fell over the crowd.
“Oh, Heavenly Elements, hear us now,” she called, turning her gaze up to the ceiling. “Please keep our sons safe from harm and veiled to the witch’s eye. Bless them with wisdom, strength and, above all, courage in the face of adversity, so that they might return to their families safe and whole. We ask this in the name of Water, Land, and Sky. Amen.”
Ingred bowed her head and everyone else followed, including Markus. He now respected these ice dwellers who prayed to the Elements and not to Madhea, for he was beginning to realize she truly was no goddess. She was a witch, an evil witch.
Markus wondered at the wisdom of his plan to scale Ice Mountain in the hope of winning Madhea’s forgiveness. He was almost certain she would neither break the curse nor forgive the Ice People. She would kill him. Later, when Ura and her people were forced to surface, she would kill them as well.
Just as the crowd began to raise their heads, Odu pushed forward and stepped beside Ingred. The towering Chieftain gasped and then scowled down at him, but the prophet offered no apology. He only shrugged.
Tapping his staff on the ice, he cleared his throat. “Hear me, oh Heavenly Elements. I ask one more favor. Please give the land dweller the strength to follow his heart.”
Soft murmurs rolled through the crowd as all eyes turned on Markus. When he lifted his chin to meet their expectant stares, Markus realized what he had to do; what his heart had been telling him all along. He must kill the witch, even if he had to sacrifice his and Alec’s lives to do it.
Chapter Twenty
The Ice Witch
IT TOOK THE GROUP THE remainder of the morning to scale the Dragon’s Teeth, mainly because they had to help Ryne haul Tar and their pack of spears. The dog was not happy with his harness and the further he was lifted from the ground, the louder his whimpering. When they finally reached the top of the spike, Ven held his stone up to the ceiling.
Markus watched as the ice above them melted away, and th
en he shielded his eyes as he was pelted with a splash of cool water. Luckily, he had layered his head and face in warm gnull fur. Small holes were cut into the ‘mask’ so that only his eyes, nose and mouth were exposed to the Elements. Zier’s shield covered most of his back. The water splashed off it and onto the ice below him.
Ryne and the others had dressed warmly, too. Markus could barely make out the whites of their eyes as they all wore similar, protective furs over their faces.
Ryne and another hunter were the first to surface, pulling Tar and the spears behind them. The rest of the climbers followed, one by one, through the hole. They latched onto a nearby ice wall, clambering a short distance until they reached a rocky ledge.
Ven was the last to surface. He clutched a pick in each hand and the sack holding his stone dangled around his neck. Once he had latched onto the wall, Ven anchored himself in place and tied in with a rope, before leaning over and removing the sack from his neck. He then dangled his stone above the hole in the ice.
To Markus’s amazement, the sack began to glow a pale blue and the hole sealed itself back up.
“How did he do that?” Markus asked Ryne.
“It is a freezing stone, too,” he answered. “It is how our climbers repair the ice.”
Markus squinted as the light around the stone faded to nothing. Ven draped it back around his neck.
“I thought it was a warming stone,” Markus said as he watched Ven make his way up the wall.
“That is what we call it,” Ryne replied as he patted his whimpering dog’s head. “We have more use for its warming properties.”
Markus looked down at the stone around his neck. How could such an innocuous-looking rock hold such power? Surely it was infused with strong magic. “So it can turn any temperature?”
“Yes, if your will is strong.” Ryne turned and nodded toward several massive columns of ice in the distance. “Once we reach the ice towers together, you will continue your ascent and we will go down.”
It took several more hours for the group to reach the safety of a small snowfield, above which the ice towers loomed. Ryne freed Tar from his harness and the dog bounded through the snow, wagging his tail in excitement.
Markus’s arms and legs were burning from the strain of the climb, so he found an exposed rock to sit on while he rubbed his sore muscles. He dared not moan as Ryne’s task had been much harder. Ryne and another climber had hauled Tar behind them, neither complaining about the dog’s weight.
When Ryne whistled, Tar bounded up to him and sat at his feet. His tail wagged with such voracity that it carved a channel into the snow behind him. Ryne patted the dog on the head and then tied a rope around his neck. He walked toward the rest of the group with Tar at his side.
“We must break here,” he said, “but only for a short time. If we stay too long, we risk being spotted by the witch.” Then he nodded toward the sack around Markus’s neck. “Take off your stone, Markus.”
He did as he was told. Clutching the sack in his gloved hands, he looked up expectantly.
Ryne knelt beside him, close enough that Markus could see the frost covering his lips and nose.
“Pull out the stone and take off your gloves,” Ryne ordered.
Markus’s mouth fell open. He did not wish to expose his fingers to the Elements and risk frostbite when he still had a long climb ahead of him. “But it is cold.”
“Do it,” Ryne snapped.
Markus reluctantly set the stone on his knee and pulled off his gloves. His fingers, already numb from the chill that had seeped through the material, started to burn.
Ryne nodded at the stone. “Hold it in your hands. Close your eyes and ‘will’ the stone to warm you.”
“But I already know how to use it,” Markus argued.
“This is different,” Ryne said. “You will need to use more concentration while climbing.” Ryne held the pale stone in his hands and it turned a bright crimson. Then, he passed it to Markus.
No sooner had Markus taken the stone from Ryne then the warmth subsided. It was once again a cold, pale rock. Though his joints ached from the effort of wrapping his fingers around the stone, Markus clutched it in his hands and closed his eyes. He imagined the warmth returning and within seconds the numbness in his fingers began to subside. Amazingly, the stone not only warmed his hands, but the heat infused his arms and chest as well.
“Ahhhhh,” Markus moaned as he basked in the warmth that enveloped him.
“It is a simple stone, is it not?”
Markus opened his eyes and looked down at the magical rock in his hands. Surprisingly, it was still glowing. “Aye,” he answered.
“If you think hard enough,” Ryne added, “you can will it to turn any temperature.”
Looking up, Ryne nodded toward the ice tower looming beyond the snowfield. “That is the highest tower on the mountain. It will lead to an ice wall.” His eyes darkened as he fixed Markus with an unwavering stare. “Straight up the ice wall is the summit to the witch’s lair.”
Markus nodded with understanding. His mouth had suddenly gone dry and he was unable to say more. He had known this day would come, but, still, a jolt of terror coursed through him, for though his destination remained the same, his purpose had changed. Markus would not ask the witch for forgiveness. He only prayed that her death would release him from the curse and Alec’s life would be spared.
Ryne pulled the stone from Markus’s chest and dropped it into the sack, before draping it around Markus’s neck. “Wear it close to your heart and it will keep you warm while you climb, as long as you will it.” Ryne’s voice then broke and he dropped his gaze to the ground.
Markus struggled to understand the sudden shift in the man’s temperament. Was it sadness he heard in his voice? Did Ura’s brother actually care for him?
“I am going to do it,” Markus said. His heart began to quicken as he voiced his decision, knowing that once he told Ryne, there would be no turning back. “Kill her.”
Ryne’s wide gaze shot to Markus. In that moment, the two shared a look of understanding.
He leaned over and grasped Markus’s shoulder. “Let us not speak of it here.”
Markus licked his parched lips and nodded his understanding. Ura had said Madhea had her own swirling mists, so she could easily be watching them now.
Ryne squeezed Markus’s shoulder once before dropping his arm to his side. He averted his eyes, but not before Markus saw the storms brewing within their depths.
“I am sorry I have been hard on you,” Ryne said.
Markus shook his head. “You were right to judge me harshly, but I am not the same lad who fell into your kingdom months ago.”
When Ryne turned to him, Markus could see his lopsided grin through the small crack in his fur mask. “No, you are not,” he agreed with a touch of humor in his voice, “and if you survive the witch, you will be welcome to drop by again.”
Markus laughed and Ryne soon joined him. Tar showed his approval by wagging his tail as his gaze darted between them.
“I know that would make Ura happy,” Ryne said.
Markus could not contain his smile, knowing that Ryne had finally approved of his love for Ura. “Aye, it would make me happy, too.” As he spoke, warmth flooded his chest and he suspected it had nothing to do with the warming stone.
Then, without warning, Ryne charged at him. Markus stepped back, but it was too late. Tar grunted beside them and then broke into a low whine. Before Markus realized what was happening, Ryne was hugging him.
“May the Elements bless you,” he said into his ear.
Markus hesitated only a moment before returning Ryne’s embrace. “And you as well.”
When Ryne pulled back, there was no mistaking the sheen of moisture in his eyes. “Thank you, Markus.”
Markus feared that he, too, would start crying if he said another word. He nodded his understanding to Ryne, before bending down to pat Tar behind the ears.
“Take care of yourself,
boy,” Markus said in a voice that was tight with emotion. Then he reached into his satchel and pulled out a dried serpent fin. With a yelp, Tar snatched the fin in his jowls, before practically swallowing it whole.
Before Markus could stand, Tar jumped up and knocked him on his backside. Markus gasped as the wind was knocked out of his lungs. Then the mutt was upon him, planting a big, wet kiss on his lips.
“Tar!” scolded Ryne, pulling his dog off Markus.
Standing up, Markus laughed and brushed the snow off his legs. Odd how a few months earlier he would have been disgusted, but Tar’s show of affection only caused Markus’s heart to ache more. He would truly miss that dog.
RYNE AND HIS PARTY made their way across the snowfield as Markus trudged alone toward the base of the ice tower with a heavy heart. Though most days Ryne’s constant belittling had been difficult to bear, Markus was going to miss him. But, mostly, he would miss Tar. He heaved a sigh as he watched the group slip further and further away.
The wind had started to pick up, bringing snow flurries with it, reducing Markus’s visibility even more. He squinted as he watched the figures disappear. He thought he saw Ryne’s silhouette turn and wave before disappearing.
Markus tried to push any disparaging thoughts from his mind. Though he could not see to the top of the tower, which was obscured by fog, he knew he’d have to traverse a great distance to reach Madhea; far more than climbing a simple tusk.
THE CLIMB UP THE ICY tower was nothing like scaling the Gnull Tusks. A blistering, relentless wind pelted Markus’s face with snow and ice, obscuring his vision. A heavy fog shrouded his view of the top, making it hard for him to visualize himself as an arrow shooting himself upward when he had no idea where upward ended.
After scaling the tower for what seemed like hours, Markus’s muscles ached and his throat felt raw. Worst of all, the structure offered no ledges and very few cracks for support. Markus’s only lifelines were the picks and his sheer will to survive, but even that was waning. He would need to rest soon. If he didn’t find a ledge, he would have to tie himself in and pray the rope held.
