by Tara West
The warming stone had proven of little use. When Markus willed it to soothe his aching bones, not only did it suffuse his body with warmth, but it also melted the ice around him, making the wall unstable and slippery. How had he ever believed he could climb to the top of this tower? Even with all of his training, scaling such a monolith was proving too difficult.
Though Markus tried his best to purge any disparaging thoughts from his mind, he knew if he could not find shelter by nightfall, he wouldn’t survive until morning.
Just as Markus reached up to dig another pick into the ice, he felt a slight tingling in his bones. Rationalizing the sensation as a result from fatigue, Markus pulled himself up and raised another pick, but the tingling strengthened. He dug a pick into the ice again, thankful that the tools were tied securely to his wrists. Mayhap he just needed to rest for a moment.
Holding his position, Markus leaned his knees into the wall while resting his fur-lined forehead on the surface. But the tingling sensation increased, so much so that it began to hammer out a buzzing staccato in his ears.
When the shield on his back and the ice wall itself began to vibrate as well, Markus realized the buzzing was coming from another source. His heart leapt into his throat. What was causing such tremors? Was the ice shifting? Was the tower breaking?
Markus lifted his head and cried out. Hundreds, mayhap thousands of tiny winged beasts, no larger than a child’s fist, were diving toward him. Their bodies were a pale grey, but their large eyes were an ominous red. The bright orbs shone menacingly as the creatures bared sharp teeth and attacked the ropes securing him to his picks.
“Go!” Markus screamed.
The beasts buzzed louder, their high-pitched squeals sounding like demonic laughter.
Markus clutched at his picks with all his might, although the menaces had already torn through his ropes. Then his soles slipped. The creatures were gnawing at the leather straps that bound the spikes to his boots! Markus screamed as his feet fell out from under him and he dangled from the icy wall.
As if that wasn’t enough, the demonic monsters began to gnaw the ice around the picks as well. Markus released a pick and waved it at the little beasts, which quickly flew out of his reach. One even bit down on Markus’s hand and he screamed as the flesh tore open. Then he lost his grip on the picks.
Falling through the air, Markus lashed out at the creatures, even as they dove after him. The air rushed from his lungs as he plummeted toward the ground. Unexpectedly, he was jolted upright. The swarming creatures had latched onto his arms and legs, and the face of the mountain passed in a blur as Markus swiftly flew heavenward.
What were these beasts and where were they taking him? Were they Madhea’s mites? Was she waiting for him at the top? If so, what was she planning to do to him?
Chapter Twenty-One
The flying menaces unceremoniously dumped Markus onto a hard floor before buzzing into a dark portal on the opposite wall. A beautiful girl with long, coppery curls swung a metal grate over the opening before securing a lock on the handle. The monsters squealed against the door, but they appeared to be trapped.
Markus struggled to his feet and peeled off his mask as the girl turned toward him. She was a beauty, dressed in a flowing, white dress. It clung to her shapely legs before pooling around her ankles and disappearing beneath the haze of a low mist that blanketed the entire floor.
She gazed intently at him from beneath thick lashes. There was a smile in her tapered amber eyes, which unnerved Markus, for something in her look was familiar. This beauty couldn’t possibly be the evil witch who had cursed his family.
“M-Madhea?” Markus stammered.
“No.” She shook her head and her thick locks glided across her shoulders with the movement. “I am not she.”
“Who are you?” asked Markus, taking a hesitant step forward while warily eyeing his surroundings.
The spacious, cave-like chamber resembled the dining hall in Ice Kingdom. It was brilliantly lit by several pale blue and white crystals suspended from the ceiling. A handful of small alcoves dotted the chamber, from which a deep tunnel led at the furthest end. Just beyond the tunnel entrance sat a throne, lined with plush furs.
Markus’s breath hitched as he recognized the raised, stone-lined pool of water in front of the throne. White mists pooled over the depths and blanketed the luminous chamber. A vortex of spinning vapors rose up to the ceiling.
Markus’s gaze darted back to the girl. He had to be in Madhea’s lair. Who else would have a pool of mist?
“Who are you?” he asked again.
She looked back with wide eyes. “I am Jae, servant to Madhea.”
A servant to the witch!
Markus instinctively reached for the bow slung across his back. “Why did you save me?” he asked, never taking his wary gaze off of the girl.
“Come,” she replied, stretching out a hand to him. “I will show you.”
Markus knew not why, but he had an urge to trust Jae. Something about her smile belied the same kindness that Jon and Ura had shown him, but how could he trust a servant of the witch? Markus eyed the girl’s outstretched hand while stepping a wide circle around her.
Jae’s smile momentarily dropped when he refused her hand, but she shrugged and walked toward the pool of mists. She stood opposite him and peered down into the pool of water, before spinning the vapor with one wave of her hand.
“Swirling mists tell us our past, our present and what could be.” Jae pointed to the figure of a man standing in the center of a small hut. “See there.”
Markus blinked hard and shook his head, hardly believing what he was seeing. The man looked like him, only he didn’t have the Hunter’s Mark on the side of his head. As he studied the man’s profile, he realized that the image in the mists was a younger version of his father.
A fair-haired toddler, who looked too much like Alec, bounded up to his father. Markus nearly fell over when he saw the man scoop the boy up in his arms and kiss him. The child answered with a giggle. As his father continued to kiss the child, his chuckles turned to boisterous laughter.
Could this be true? Was Father once kind to Alec? If so, what had caused his heart to harden?
Alec began to cough and Father held him against his chest until it subsided. A woman appeared. She looked much like Markus’s mother, only not as thin and frail. When she took Alec from his arms, Father turned from her, but not before Markus saw the sheen of tears in his eyes.
“My father?” Markus asked.
“Yes,” Jae nodded.
“But he is...”
“Kind.” Jae flashed a smile that didn’t quite mask the sadness in her eyes.
Markus shook his head as a heavy gloom settled in his heart. This kind man couldn’t have been his father. “This is an illusion.”
“No,” replied Jae as she slowly walked around the pool toward Markus. “He was kind once, until Madhea put a curse upon his heart.”
Markus’s jaw fell open as a jolt of dread shot up his spine. “Why?”
She looked away from Markus, turning her gaze to the swirling mists. “Because he would not stay with her.”
Markus shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
Jae heaved a sigh before fixing Markus with a direct gaze. Her voice cracked as she spoke. “Alec had been born frail and sick. He was dying. Rowlen tried to scale the mountain and plead to Madhea for help.”
Jae’s eyes narrowed as her voice turned sour. “Madhea saw him through her swirling mists and had the pixies bring him to her, not out of pity, but out of lust. She promised him that she would put a spell on his son to ward off death, but only if he spent the night in her arms.”
Markus sucked in a sharp intake of breath. He remembered that Zier once told him his father was the only man who had ever scaled Ice Mountain. The trader had been known to weave an exaggerated tale or two, so Markus had mistakenly asked his father if the rumor was true. It was the only time Rowlen had ever struck him.
Now Markus wondered if he’d touched a nerve that day. Mayhap he had conjured up old memories that his father was trying to forget—the night he’d slept with the witch. Could Jae be telling the truth?
“The next morning,” she continued, “Madhea begged Rowlen to stay, but he refused. Rowlen held her to her promise of one night for his son’s life, but just as the pixies were about to carry him down the mountain, she put a spell on his heart. From thereon he hated his son. As for the babe, he did not die, just as Madhea promised, but she did not put an end to his sickness. If anything, she prolonged it, making his life as miserable as death.”
Markus’s jaw hardened. He clenched the arrow in his hand so tightly that he nearly snapped it in two. Ryne was right, the witch needed to be killed!
“There is more.” Jae cast her gaze down as her voice dropped to barely a whisper. “Madhea conceived a child during her night with Rowlen.”
A child? That would make Markus a brother to the witch’s offspring. How could he bear the thought of having such a sibling? His mouth suddenly went dry. Licking his cracked lips, he willed the tension that coiled around his neck to subside. “What became of the child?”
When Jae lifted her gaze back to Markus, he could not mistake the vortex of emotions that clouded her eyes. “I am her,” she said.
“You?” Markus gasped. “You are my sister?”
“Yes.”
“But you said you were her servant.” Markus wondered what kind of parent would force her child into servitude, but he already knew Madhea was capable of cruelty.
Jae shrugged. “She treats me as such. I did not inherit her magical powers. I am useless.”
“I’m sorry.” Markus took a step forward and reached for his sister’s hand.
Jae clasped his hand in her own and looked into his eyes before flashing a dazzling smile. “Do not be. When I learned that you were my brother, I longed to meet you. I’m so happy you are here.”
Markus couldn’t help but feel pity for her. All of his life he had been ashamed to have a monster for a father. What must Jae’s childhood have been like with an evil witch for a mother? Suddenly, the thought of the girl being his sister wasn’t so bad. Jae was a victim of her parentage, just as he had been. Could this be why she sent the pixies to pull him from the mountain? Had she meant to help her brother defeat the witch?
“Do you know why I have come here?” Markus asked.
“I saw you in the mists, telling the trader that you were going to beg my mother’s forgiveness.” Jae tightened her grip on Markus’s hand. “It will not work. When you were born with the Hunter’s Mark, Madhea had not meant to bless you. She knew that one day you would bring upon the hunter’s curse, and she wanted to punish our father for leaving her.”
Markus’s heart hammered against his chest. Releasing his sister’s hand, he stepped back. Should he tell her that his plan had changed and that he meant to kill Madhea? How would she react? Would she help him to kill her own mother?
“I’m sorry, Jae, but your mother is evil. She needs to be destroyed.”
“No!” Jae’s hand flew to her mouth. “You can’t destroy her. She can conjure deadly thunderbolts.” She lowered her hands, clenching them by her sides. “Appeal to the Elementals. It is the only way to stop her.”
“Who are they?”
“My sisters,” Jae answered, “but born of magic. They are not cruel like my moth...”
“I knew I should have smote you when you were a babe! Useless mortal! Traitorous bitch!”
Markus turned to the source of the shrill voice that echoed off the chamber walls just as a blinding flash of light almost knocked him off his feet. Instinctively, he swung his bow into his grip and nocked an arrow while skidding to his knees behind the raised pool of water. In that moment he saw his sister’s lifeless body on the floor. Smoke rose from a charred hole in her chest. Markus cried out before gagging on the pungent odor of Jae’s burnt flesh.
A cackling, winged woman flew down beside Jae and kicked her head with a bare foot.
Markus leapt up and released his arrow. “You are a monster!” he yelled.
The woman laughed and waved a wrinkled hand, slowing the arrow to a near standstill. She opened her palm and a bright bolt of lightning shot out, turning the arrow to ash.
“Keep your distance, boy hunter,” she warned, holding out her smoking palms.
The glowing, pale robe that flowed around the woman’s bony body did nothing to soften her ugly features. Scraggly, grey hair clung to her scalp and cascaded down her back like dead vines. Her mouth hung in a permanent frown and her emerald eyes were framed by dark, heavy circles.
She had to be Madhea.
The witch had killed her own daughter and Markus’s only sister. He would make her pay. Markus nocked another arrow, but his heart sank as the winged witch circled him. How could he possibly destroy a flying witch who could shoot thunderbolts from her hands?
“You’ve grown pale,” she sneered, while leveling him with a smug expression. “Been dwelling among the Ice People, have you? They cannot hide from me forever and when I find them they shall pay for helping you!”
Anger surged anew through his skull. “I will kill you!”
Markus released another arrow and, just like before, she turned it to ash.
“Who do you think gifted you with the power to kill, you stupid boy?” she shrieked, lifting her palms.
Markus jumped behind the raised pool of mist just as Madhea released a thunderbolt. Rocks tumbled down around him, followed by the rush of frigid water.
“My mists!” the witch cried.
Markus rolled away and his arrows clanked to the floor, just as another thunderbolt shot out. Dodging it, he leapt to his feet and scrambled behind the stone wall of an alcove.
Markus reached into his quiver and found only one arrow left. Pulling back his bowstring, he peered around the wall. From what he could tell, Madhea was bent over the destroyed pool of water, but the swirling mists had scattered, obscuring almost everything in the room. He could no longer see his sister’s body and Madhea’s winged form was just a blur.
But the one thing that did catch his eye was a glowing crystal above Madhea’s shadow. Mites! Markus aimed his arrow and struck at the core of the crystal. Light scattered as the ice shattered.
Madhea let out an agonizing scream. Her wings buzzed noisily as she shook her arms and jumped up from the mists.
Even through the dense fog, Markus could feel the heat of the witch’s angry glare. Gasping, he ducked behind the wall and searched for an exit, but there was no escape. Markus unsheathed the knife from his boot and backed against the wall, just as the witch flew above him. Red, angry welts were forming along her pale arms.
“You shall pay for hurting me, boy hunter! You are a fool, just like your father!”
With all his might, Markus threw his knife, aiming for Madhea’s cold heart, but it dissolved when struck by her magic. The witch let out an ominous hiss before a blinding, white force knocked Markus’s head against the wall. An agonizing scream pierced his ears just before his world darkened.
MARKUS AWOKE WITH A thick fog in his head. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear the faint sound of women crying.
“Jae! She is dead!”
“The mists have been destroyed!”
“What has happened?”
Markus slowly opened his eyes. Though it was difficult to see, the misty haze was beginning to clear. He could vaguely make out two winged women fluttering over Jae’s body.
“Oh, the poor girl,” sobbed one of them.
“Our mother has gone too far this time,” the other said, pointing somewhere near Markus.
Markus struggled to sit up, though his chest ached and his extremities were numb. Finally, he managed to lean his head and shoulders against the icy wall behind him. There, just beyond his feet, lay Madhea. Crusted blood coated the old witch’s temple, and her arms and face were covered in raised, red welts.
The women fluttered down to Madhea and knelt by her side. Markus sucked in a sharp breath. They were beauties and, from what he could tell, almost identical, except that one had pale blonde hair and the other a soft, strawberry shade.
“Is she alive, Kia?” asked the fair-haired one, smoothing her fingers across Madhea’s brow.
“She breathes, Ariette, but barely,” answered the other as she bent over the witch.
“She was struck by her own thunderbolt,” gasped Ariette.
“How?” Kia asked.
“Look there.” Ariette pointed a finger. “The boy wears a stone!”
Markus glanced down at the sack dangling around his neck. There were several rips in the leather pouch, revealing the glowing stone inside. Panic seized his chest as the women fluttered beside him.
“Where did you get this?” Kia’s lips pulled back in a snarl as she waved a hand at the stone. The flapping of her translucent wings reminded him of the frenzied buzz of a hornet’s hive.
Markus sat up on his elbows. His tongue was swollen and heavy inside his parched mouth, and he had to clear his throat to speak. “It was a gift.”
Kia’s eyes narrowed. “Who gifted it to you?”
But Markus refused to answer. Madhea did not need another reason to curse the Ice People.
“The Ice People gave this to you, didn’t they?” Ariette asked. “I knew they were using magic to escape Mother’s eye.”
Markus clenched his fists as every muscle in his body tensed with fear.
Kia exchanged wide-eyed glances with her sister. “How many more do they have?” she asked, her strawberry-colored hair falling over her shoulders.
