by R. K. Hart
Alys went further, pulling a pair of short boots from her pack with small blades attached to the bottom. Lida watched, fascinated, as Alys hobbled to the ice and stepped out. She slid forward, fast and graceful, then spin back to glide towards them, grinning widely.
‘Show-off,’ muttered Ella, smiling despite herself. She held the reins of both Bright Eyes and Silk. ‘Her tribe lives just to the east,’ she said to Lida. ‘They use the lake all the time. Alys loves skating.’
‘Come,’ called Katrin. ‘We need to be across before nightfall.’ She stepped out onto the ice, leading her stallion, Bear, who snuffled at her shoulder.
Lida’s first step was fraught. Though both Katrin and Dylan had gone before her, she could not stop imagining that the ice would crack under her weight and she would fall into the freezing water beneath. She paused when her foot pressed down on the cold surface, truly afraid; it was Sacred who pulled her forward, whinnying at Midnight as Lorcan took her silently past. Lida let Sacred lead her.
It was easier than trekking up the mountain pass, but still hard work. The spikes on the bottom of Lida’s boots necessitated an odd gait with a twist at the start of each step to free them from the grasp of the ice. Her tiredness didn’t help; after the initial uplift at the beauty of the place, her mood plummeted once more, and her head bowed as she struggled along, carefully following the marks in the ice left behind by Katrin and Dylan.
They didn’t stop for lunch that day. Instead, Katrin handed out the last of their dried food as they walked. Lida imagined all the things she wanted to eat - one of Torig’s pastries, dripping with white sauce, or a bowl of pumpkin soup, thickened with cream - as she forced herself to chew and swallow the handful of fruit and nuts.
Alys tried to lift Lida’s spirits, making jokes and telling her about the Kali’s Court, dwelling on the warmth of the valley and the many hot springs. Lida tried her best, but her answers were often short and disinterested, and eventually Alys gave up, skating far ahead of the rest of the group. Lida stayed near Ella, who was not naturally inclined to small talk, observing to herself that as much as she adored Alys, Ella seemed to understand her better. For hours, they spoke no more than the occasional sentence, each content - or not, in Lida’s case - with her own thoughts.
They reached the shore just after nightfall. The sky was clear, and so bright they didn’t need to light their way; Phobis was waxing large, and Galis was almost full. Alys had reached the far shore hours before, and Lida could see the fire she’d started, and smell something cooking. Katrin and Lorcan were next to step off the ice, then Ella, with Dylan following; Lida had trailed behind. Sacred pulled away, excited by the prospect of whatever oats remained in Katrin’s pack and the lure of a warm fire to stand beside.
Lida gave her free rein and watched as she trotted easily off the ice, pawing her hooves in the snow. The mare had taken an odd arc along the shore; in her tiredness, instead of following Sacred and the scuffs left in the frozen surface by the others, Lida cut straight across.
She didn’t realise her mistake until she heard an immense crack from beneath her feet, and her body plunged down. She barely had time to open her mouth before the ice swallowed her scream.
***
Someone was whimpering.
It was high-pitched and soft, the sound of a baby animal in distress. It was broken by audible shivering and the occasional low moan. There were other sounds, too: the shuffle of feet, the crackle of a fire, agitated whispering; it sounded like a prayer, but it wasn’t in Eilin, so Lida couldn’t catch the words.
‘It’s all right,’ someone soothed. ‘We want her to shiver. It means she’s improving. It’s worse if she doesn’t. Drink this, Lida.’
Lida awakened properly as hot liquid pooled in her mouth and she swallowed by reflex. She could feel the heat track a path down her throat and into her chest.
‘Good. More.’
Obediently, she swallowed again.
‘Alys, is the blanket ready?’
‘Yes, here.’
‘Wrap her in the new one, Dylan.’
Lida was shuffled from one side to the other as something was pulled away from her torso and replaced by a new thing, deliciously hot and smelling faintly of smoke. It wrapped around Lida’s back and chest and stomach, then she was settled back down again, and someone began fussing with her hair.
‘Stop that,’ she slurred, trying to get up. ‘I’m fine.’
‘You are not fine, and do not move,’ Katrin said with steel in her voice. ‘Ella needs to dry your hair. Let her work.’
Lida didn’t dare argue, so she lay still and tried to remember how to open her eyes. Ella’s hands and the towel she used were warm and made Lida’s scalp tingle.
The shivering increased, and soon she could not stop it. She could feel tremors wrack her chest and stomach, but her hands and feet were oddly numb.
‘Lorcan, set up the tents please. We’re not moving tonight.’
‘I can walk,’ Lida said through her heavy tongue.
‘No, you can’t,’ Katrin said bluntly. ‘Stop talking and drink more tea.’
Lida did as she was told. The tea seemed to help with the shivering, warming her from the inside.
‘The scarf is ready,’ Alys said.
‘Good. Wrap it around her head and neck. Vital organs first, remember. A person can survive without their fingers.’
Lida tried to flex hers, suddenly worried, but someone settled something warm over her ears and forehead and covered the top of her head. It didn’t help with her quest to open her eyes, so she decided not to bother, rising up from her consciousness to try to see what was happening.
‘Lida, if you draw again, I will throw you straight back in that lake.’
Lida coughed. ‘I can see where Mikal got his bedside manner,’ she said hoarsely.
Katrin laughed. ‘Jokes. Jokes are good.’ She paused. ‘Lida, in a few minutes the feeling is going to return to your hands and feet, and it’s going to hurt, cila. It’s going to hurt a lot. We have warmed gloves and socks for you, but you need to try to stay still, yah?’
‘I will try.’
‘Beni, cila. Dylan, put these on her, please.’
Lida was shuffled again, and warm things encased her feet, and then her hands. She realised that the thing she was leaning against was Dylan.
‘What happened?’ she said to him.
‘Try not to talk, Lida. You fell through the ice. You have hypothermia.’
‘I don’t know what that is.’
He laughed softly. ‘Southerners. Your body temperature got too low. We must warm you back up. Katrin was worried that your fingers and toes were frostbitten, but she thinks not, now.’
‘How did I get out?’
Dylan cleared his throat. ‘Lorcan.’
‘How?’
He didn’t answer.
‘Dylan.’
‘He went in after you,’ he said eventually.
Lida was spared the need to answer by a fresh cup of tea, which Alys ministered cheerfully.
The feeling returned to her hands and feet, just as Katrin had promised. It hurt like nothing Lida had ever experienced: a pain that was at once a burning and a stabbing and a ferocious tingling. She managed not to scream, but she did cry; she couldn’t tell whether the shaking of her body was from the shivering or the sobbing. Dylan held her tightly until the pain passed; to Lida, it felt like hours. He murmured to her occasionally in Brinnican, stroking her hair gently. At one point, she realised he was singing to her, and she wondered tiredly at the song.
When the pain finally faded, she was spent.
‘Katrin?’
‘Yah, cila?’
‘Can I sleep?’
‘Yes. We will move you into the tent. It will not take long.’
Lida’s body protested as a layer of warmth was taken away and she was lifted and carried and set back down again. She opened her eyes a crack, realising that her head was pillowed on Dylan’s shoulder. He s
tretched himself out, pulling a thick blanket over them, before settling his spare arm lightly over Lida’s stomach. He laughed softly.
‘What’s funny?’ she asked sleepily.
‘Lor’s face when Katrin told me to keep you warm. If looks could kill, I’d be dead a thousand times over.’ He grinned wickedly. ‘Imagine how jealous he’ll be in the morning.’
‘You’re a beast, Dylan,’ Lida mumbled.
‘Mmm,’ he agreed. ‘But you’re entirely safe, Lida. You’re not my type. No offence.’ He paused. ‘Your sister, on the other hand …’
‘No offence, Dylan, but you’re not exactly high on my list, either. I think I’d even prefer Kieran.’
He barked a laugh. ‘No, you wouldn’t. I’ve heard he’s woefully bad.’
Lida flushed.
Dylan pulled back, brushing his mind gently over hers as he studied her face. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘That makes more sense. I did not take you for someone who minded tradition, Lida. We wondered why you ran, that night in the forest.’ He chuckled. ‘I have never seen Lorcan not know what to do. It was very satisfying.’
Lida was silent for a long moment, studying the woven wall of the tent. ‘I don’t know what he wants from me.’
Dylan looked down at her, one eyebrow slightly raised. ‘Of course you do.’
She shifted her head restlessly.
He brushed a still-damp curl from her cheek. ‘It is hard to hide strong emotion. Thoughts are easy. They come, you drape them in language, you remember them, maybe, or lose them, or push them aside as if they have never been. They are yours to make and you do what you like with them. Feeling … feeling comes in the smallest of moments. It comes in movement, in memory, in the breeze on your face or in sunlight on skin. It comes in a voice, a song, in a lock of hair, in the shape of lips. You cannot control it, for it flows through your veins, warm as wine. And it is only with hard-won practice that you can begin to hide it.’ He gave her a slight squeeze. ‘He has never had to practice before.’
‘He barely knows me.’
‘He can see you, soer. Knowing takes a lifetime, and sometimes longer than that.’ He gave a slight shrug. ‘Hearts are complex things. Eilins think they are simple. You like someone well enough, you handfast, you marry, and if you are lucky, you grow into love. In the north we know that hearts hold more. They are not so small that they encompass only one love, or one way of loving. Their journey is not some straight, smooth path, but may wind forward and back again, or take two paths at once. They may love on sight or take years to soften, and they seldom do as they are told, nor take the road that they should travel.’
‘I didn’t think …’ She trailed off.
He laughed. ‘You never think, Lida, but it is fine, because he thinks enough for three. Who else would suit you? Some tame Eilin man, who would expect you to keep house and bear children and prepare his meals while he worked and did as he pleased? Anyone who looks at you can see you are not made for that. You were always going to fall for the north. I think your father knew that, too.’
‘Dylan -’
He smiled. ‘Talk to Lorcan, not me. Listening to the pair of you has been unbearable, though you, at least, have the excuse of being untrained.’
Lida growled under her breath as a wave of exhaustion shook her.
Dylan squeezed her gently. ‘Sleep now. Talk later. Things will seem clearer when the sun comes up.’
She yawned into his chest, unable to keep her eyes open. ‘You almost sound wise.’
He snorted and pulled her closer. ‘What is that Eilin saying? Heed my words, not my actions? I am the worst of hypocrites.’ He sighed. ‘Sleep, ma soer. Sleep, and wait for the sun.’
***
Lida stood in the white place, her eyes on the dreamlines.
She had realised that the strongest and the brightest came from those sleeping closest to her. One was very bright and sharply-defined: Dylan had gone to sleep at last. There were three others close by; one flickered, disappearing and reappearing, and Lida guessed that Katrin was not having a sound sleep that night. She wondered who was still awake.
Further away were hundreds of lines, some close in tiny bunches, some further apart, some entwined together in graceful golden snakes, wrapped so tightly that Lida could not tell which was which. They were close to Kali’s Court now, and Lida was sure the dreams belonged to those that slept there. One dreamline stood out, reaching determinedly towards where Katrin’s flickered; curious, Lida walked with difficulty towards it, feeling as if something was dragging her back. She stretched out her hand.
The dreamscape had the clarity of a memory. She stood in a flurry of snow on the side of a mountain, looking out across a vast, frozen plain. A herd of huge, shaggy oxen moved across it, their coats blending with the white beneath them. The sky was heavy and low and grey with snow cloud.
‘Tu n’devrai pas ete ici,’ came a voice from behind her. Lida tensed as she felt something cold and hard pressed to her neck. ‘Qi e-tu?’
Remembering the bruises she’d gathered during the encounter with Alys’ fae, she decided to be cautious. ‘J’epelle Alida,’ she said, her voice far calmer than she felt. ‘Can I turn around?’
‘Non. Stay where you are.’
She swallowed as the knife pressed deeper into her skin. ‘Is this how you welcome all visitors to Brinnica?’
‘Only the ones in places they should not be.’ The voice was a deep rumble, the words heavily accented.
‘I come with Katrin Kalisdotter,’ Lida snapped. ‘Would you welcome her this way, too?’
The man behind her gave a rough laugh. ‘Ah. Ma joli soer aini. Non. She would never be caught off guard.’
‘Soer aini?’ Lida repeated, struggling for a moment to translate. ‘You’re Aaron Kalisson?’
‘Yah.’ He took the knife from her neck and she let out a shaky breath. ‘I will see you soon, I think.’
Abruptly, Lida found herself back in the white place. She spun, disoriented; it took her a moment to realise what had happened.
He had thrown her from his dream.
***
Lida woke to a soft, filtered light and a muffled rumble of hooves on snow.
She was deliciously, properly warm for the first time in what seemed an age, but Dylan woke to instant alertness, gently settling her aside and sitting up with his back very straight, taking his heat away and reaching for his knife. Lida felt the pull of illae as he drew and reached out.
‘What’s wrong?’ she whispered, when his face fell.
‘We took too long,’ he said glumly, ‘so they came to find us. The aine are here.’
Part Three
Chapter Eighteen: Welcome
Dylan left Lida to change her clothes, and she emerged from the tent a minute later to blink into the savage reflection of dawn light off snow. She joined the northerners, who had positioned themselves in a neat line facing away from the lake in which she almost froze. None of them looked easy; Dylan’s hands were balled into fists and Alys was chewing her lip. Even Katrin held a tenseness about her mouth and in her shoulders. They all looked tired, all looked wan, and Lida slipped into line next to Lorcan, who looked even more exhausted than the rest, blue shadowing his golden skin, his dark eyes heavy. He did not look at Lida. She glanced down at his hands as his long fingers twisted his silver cuff around his wrist. Her stomach fluttered, as if she’d swallowed a bird.
Ten horses galloped to meet them; one did not have a rider. As they neared, Lida took an involuntary step back, worried that they would not stop in time. They pulled up a few paces away in a flurry of fluffy snow, and a tall woman with shining red hair dismounted and ran towards Katrin, taking her hands and kissing them fervently.
‘Katrin, ma cheri. Bienv maison. T’ma manc.’
‘Tati Bethan,’ Katrin said, falling to her knees. ‘J’manc l’maison. Ou est ma mather?’
Lida frowned, realising the redheaded woman was not the Kali. She spoke too quickly for Lida to catch her a
nswer.
‘The Kali isn’t here,’ Dylan murmured to Lida, leaning back behind Lorcan. ‘She is away on a soul walk and is not expected back for some time.’
Disappointment lanced through Lida, and she wondered how long she would have to wait. Katrin, too, looked perturbed; one hand curled into a fist over her stomach as she got back to her feet.
Ella ran forward into the arms of a giant man with golden hair and an impressive red beard. They shared the same eyes and smile, so Lida guessed him to be her father. Katrin gestured them all forward once the remaining riders had dismounted.
‘Illara and Illarus, I present my mother’s sister, Bethan Ka’meresdotter, and my cousin, Bronwyn Bethansdotter.’ Bronwyn was younger than Katrin, and shared her mother’s mane of flame-red hair and full lips. Katrin ran through the rest of the party; Ella’s father was called Cuinn, and Lida swiftly lost track of the rest. They were all related somehow to the Kali, though: an aunt, a nephew, cousins.
‘Aine of the Snow Leopards, I present Alys Almasdotter of Yoss Lake; Dylan Carasson of the Hunting Cats; Lorcan Merchant, Dar-Oidre of the Kellith; and Alida d’Cathan, of Kingstown, Eilan. They are under my protection and my care, and I take responsibility for their safety while their feet rest on the lands of my foremothers.’
After Katrin repeated the words in flowing Brinnican, Bethan stepped forward, her hand over her heart. ‘We welcome you to the lands of the Kali.’
Alys, Dylan, and Lorcan stepped forward and returned her greeting; Lida hastened to copy their deep bows. As she straightened, something cold and sharp pressed under her chin, and she went very still. She had not heard a thing; a tremor went through her hands.
‘So, peti oisu, you are here.’ His voice was deeper than it had been in the dreamscape, and it rumbled with amusement. ‘Is this the welcome you hoped for?’
‘Aaron,’ Lida answered, her voice calm, though her heart beat hard in her chest. ‘Your manners haven’t improved.’
He gave a rough chuckle and took the knife from her throat, stepping in front of her. She swallowed and forced herself to stay still, resisting the urge to step back.
