image [https://i.imgur.com/yFu9mOD.png]

XXII

Interlude: Cry of the Mountain

The little boy heaved a sack of potatoes on a chair in front of the counter.

‘Here you go, sis!’

Nerya’s gaze peeled away from the knife she was using to dice up carrots. ‘Thanks, Thal. There’s some fruit on the dinner table.’

‘Frostberries?!’

She ruffled his short-cropped hair and smiled. ‘Your favourites.’

The boy was gone before she could blink.

Nerya picked up one of the potatoes after finishing the carrots. Her knife carved across—and stopped. She retracted the blade and held the piece of skin stuck to it to the light. Her gaze narrowed. There was a thin, red film underneath. Frowning, she pulled it closer and sniffed…smells regular. She set the potato aside and picked out another one. Surely enough, this one had the same red film underneath. She tested four in a row. Of the four, two were affected.

‘Thal, where did you pick these?’ she said.

‘The central farm,’ he said with his mouth full.

She hummed. Was this some type of discolouration or fungus? If the latter, they had a serious problem on their hands. Not wanting to take any chances, Nerya decided to call upon the opinion of an expert. She passed the dinner table (quickly inspected the frostberries her little brother was eating) and went into the cellar.

The gust of cold that rushed up the stone stairway after she opened the door was an old scare, and she did not jump. But she did cast a spell on her footwear; frost had clawed its way up the walls and steps like spiderwebs, making the surface slippery, and the tumble into the dark wasn’t one she would bet her life on.

Her slippers clicked as she went down. She picked up one of the oil lanterns they kept near the bottom as well as a matchbox. It took three strikes before the match caught fire and she could lit the wick, but the light came and cast away the dark, revealing the mist pouring from the dozens of Cryospheres hanging from the ceiling.

Despite the thousands of times Nerya had been down here, her body quivered. It didn’t help that she was in nothing but an indoor robe.

Ice cloak, she whispered. Damp mist curled around her and settled on her hide like a blanket.

She raised her lantern. ‘Mother! There’s something I need you to look at.’

Her voice echoed between the rows of kegs stored on wooden cradles before disappearing into the cellar. No response.

Huh. She thought she’d seen her go down here.

Nerya waded deeper into the chamber and called out for her mother again. No response this time either. She frowned. Their cellar was big, but not so big that Mother wouldn’t hear her screaming—

‘Nerya!’

For an instant, she thought that was her mother, but the voice came from behind and was too deep.

‘Varrick?’ she called her brother’s name.

‘Nerya,’ he said in an irritated tone. ‘Gods, I hate this place. What are you doing down here?’

She made her way back to the entrance to find her brother in front of the stairwell.

‘Searching for Mother.’ She pushed the lantern towards him and tilted her head. ‘What about you? You’re all dressed up.’

He was in his full regalia of snow-white boots, trousers, hooded cloak and neck gaiter. His topknot partially blocked the view of the black and white bow strapped to his back.

‘Father asked us to hunt a few elk,’ he said.

But the bow he carried was the one father had gifted him for his eighteenth birthday—that one was solely for special occasions, and there was only one of those coming up.

‘Isn’t it too early?’ Nerya said. ‘The Winter Fest is two weeks away.’

‘That’s what I said, too. Maybe he’ll listen if you tell him.’

She chuckled. Yeah, right.

‘Can you wait?’ she said. ‘I was busy preparing dinner.’

‘I’m taking over!’ Aunt May called from atop the stairs.

Well, that settled that.

‘Let me clothe myself.’

And tell auntie not to use those potatoes!

‘I’ll wait outside,’ Varrick said and turned around.

Nerya followed him, but she paused midway up the stairs and turned her head. The dark, quiet cellar stared back at her.

‘You seeing ghosts?’ Varrick said, already at the top. ‘I thought you were past that phase.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘I’m coming.’

The door to the cellar closed.

image [https://i.imgur.com/z6G5s0x.png]

Up on the mountain, where the winds lashed out with barbed wire instead of taut rope, one foul step was enough. A missed waypoint, a misjudged change of weather—they would all spell your end. Solely the hardiest survived. The weak fueled the soil.

Wide hooves pawed at the snow, leaving footprints deep as veins in their search for the lifeblood of the mountain.

‘Aim carefully,’ Nerya whispered, using her cloak as a mouth cover.

They’d searched hard and long for this single elk—letting it get away was not an option.

‘What do you take me for?’ Varrick whispered back. He pushed himself up from the snow and settled onto one knee. ‘You make sure you don’t screw up.’ Then he drew his bowstring back.

Nerya closed her eyes to stop herself from rolling them (she did that too often around him), and motioned for Varrick to move his arrow closer. She paused to breathe as her hand curled in front of her mouth, forming a tunnel. Exhaling, the fog pushed through the makeshift pipe and shrouded the metal tip.

The mist clung to it.

She nodded. Varrick lined up the shot. The arrow didn’t so much as whistle as it barrelled through the air. Not even when it penetrated just behind the front leg, piercing deep into the elk’s lungs.

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The beast cried out, kicked its back legs, and ran for it.

‘Nice kill,’ she said.

‘Job’s not done.’ Varrick got to his feet.

It wasn’t. But the bright red trail was impossible to miss. Nerya would give the elk a hundred metres tops. Lo-and-behold, they found it collapsed on the other side of a hill.

Its wheezing, laboured breaths poured out as steam. Nerya crouched beside it, placing a hand on its head. Her palm pulsed, and as the seconds passed, the elk’s trembling pupils stilled, their black hue taking on the colour of ice.

‘Rest well,’ she said.

She rose to her full height and reached for the spider-like sculpture hanging from her belt. Her hand pulsed again. The tiny figurine expanded with a snap, and the ice construct grew until it reached her hips and became as long as she was tall.

Without further command, it burrowed underneath the elk and lifted it onto its back. It started in the direction of their village.

Brother and sister eyed the golem’s slow pace.

‘You can go if you want,’ she said.

He nodded. ‘I’ll see if I can hunt anything else.’

He pulled his neck gaiter over his mouth and was off, his cloak shrouding him as he stalked through the frozen hills.

Nerya marched alongside her summon (there was no place to sit) and surveyed the valley. The winds ran free like demons hunting down anything that moved. But their lust for blood found no targets.

‘It’s so barren,’ she said.

The scent of the deceased elk would scare animals away, especially the smaller ones. Even so, it should not have been this quiet. This…desolate. A remembrance of the strange sight this morning came to her.

‘Wait,’ she told her summon.

Nerya crouched and dug through the snow to touch the earth. She closed her eyes and listened. Many minutes passed in contemplation (what was she even listening for?). The earth remained as silent as its surface in all of them, so Nerya gave up. But she froze just as she rose.

There was a shaking…a tremor coming from deep within.

‘She’s crying.’ This time, she rose fully and stepped back despite herself. ‘The earth is crying.’

What in Cryandra’s name was happening?

I have to tell father.

‘Let’s go,’ she said to the golem, already regretting she had told it to stop at all.

Should she hurry ahead? There weren’t many predators that could pose a threat to—

An orchestra of howls preceded the snow-hushed rush of feet.

Nerya whirled around…and saw a dozen shapes eating ground like an arrow, with white pelts that blended in amongst the snow. Among them, moving faster than all yet appearing as if it was running with the least effort, was a hulking shadow too big for anything to disguise it.

Heart exploding in a rush of adrenaline, Nerya ripped the figurine hanging from her belt and threw it in the air.

‘Spirit of Frost, answer my summon!’

The snap of expansion was twice as loud as that of the spider golem. Thick, icy limbs touched the ground in a crouch. The golem, its body sharp and angled, the head featureless and hexagon-like, rose for all of its six-and-a-half feet height, raised its arm,

Then slammed the ground. The floor cratered around them, and the flying, frozen debris kept the closest of the wolves from lunging at them. Instead, the pack rushed past and around as a blur, their snarls whipping Nerya’s skin.

She whirled this and that way, swiping her knife to further keep them at bay. Fuck, she thought. The golem couldn’t defend every angle. And there was one angle it couldn’t face away from.

The packmates parted without so much as a growl from the alpha. Despite its size, the beast’s footfalls were silent. The sole sound was from the mist pouring down the two fangs jutting out from the side of its mouth, which poured even when the beast was dormant.

Frostfang wolves, Nerya thought. They lived near the peaks. So what were they doing so far down?!

It didn’t matter. They were here now, and she was surrounded. And alone—too much time had passed for Varrick to still be nearby.

What do I do? If what she suspected about the earth was true, her village needed this elk, for the sacrifice could maybe appease the spirit of the land. But fighting a Frostfang pack would turn ugly. The regular wolves could injure her summons and the alpha…

The beast stepped around her in a circle, forcing her to rotate with it. Its icy gaze pierced her, yet Nerya found her attention drawn to the many scars littering its hide, amongst which a claw mark with a red tinge in the centre.

No, her gut squirmed. This wasn’t a battle she could win.

‘Lower it,’ she whispered, biting her lips so hard she tasted iron.

The elk flopped on the ground. Losing its cargo freed up the summon, so Nerya stepped on top and welded her feet to its back with a quick spell.

All three of them slowly backed away. As they did, Nerya stared the alpha down. The beast stepped forwards. The pack did so too.

She raised her chin, exhaled, and linked her hands. “I won’t win, but you won’t either,” her stance said.

The Frostfang alpha bared its teeth.

…

And the packmates behind her separated so she could pass. They ran towards the corpse and dragged the beast off under the watchful gaze of their leader.

It was only after she was well out of sight and the uncomfortable feeling of the alpha’s gaze finally disappeared that the tension escaped Nerya’s shoulders.

Turning and running as fast as her summons would allow, she asked:

What the hell is happening to our valley?

image [https://i.imgur.com/z6G5s0x.png]

Nerya was back in the central compound of Winterforge, the Ebonfrost clan elder’s office, where she and her brother were seated on a cushion at a low, wooden table.

A fireplace at the back of the hall cast long shadows underneath the chairs her parents were sitting on. The darkness was shapeless except for two instances. Wooden totems as tall as the ceiling was high stood on either side of the hall. Artic’s tail curved around the base of the left pillar, leading up to the Frost Spirit of the Sky’s resting form at the top. Grisha, the Frost Spirit of the Earth, camped at the bottom of his totem, where his many golems rose from the ground and towered over the land to oversee their domain.

One of the maids carried in a tray of drinks as quiet as she could, not daring to disturb the silence between the family.

Nerya downed her frostberry juice, then sighed to break the ice. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘The blame is not yours,’ Varrick said immediately. His face was sour. ‘We would’ve stood a chance if I hadn’t left.’

‘That is also my—’

‘Now, now, mistakes can happen,’ their mother cut through leisurely. She touched Father’s arm as she spoke. ‘Who would’ve thought a Frostfang alpha would come this far down the mountains?’

Mother’s voluminous hair flowed down her shoulders yet appeared stationary at the same time. Like a flash-frozen waterfall. The beauty in it was timeless, and the arctic-coloured dress she wore with its short sleeves that left her neck and forearms exposed only accentuated it.

Nerya frowned. That attire was too cold even for indoors. She honed her senses, and of course, her mother was casting Ice Cloak, or at least a variant of it. Nerya huffed. If being a “Lady” requires that much wasted mana, I’ll never be one.

She brought her attention back to the present just in time for her father to mention her name.

‘Nerya losing to the alpha is one thing.’ His voice was gruff like a glacier displacing. ‘But what about you, Varrick?’

Her brother’s chin tilted towards the floor. ‘I didn’t manage to find another target of sufficient size.’

‘So you failed,’ Father said.

Varrick opened his mouth but Nerya was quicker.

‘Something is happening on the mountains, Father,’ she said. ‘It’s not his fault the animals have migrated.’

‘I inspected the discolouration of our harvest,’ Mother chimed in. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’

Nerya had shown it to her after she returned home. Mother had been in the cellar after all.

‘And the mark matched the scar on the alpha,’ Nerya added. She didn’t look away from Father to show she wasn’t lying.

‘I believe you, child,’ he said. Yet his stern expression didn’t loosen. ‘But are colours enough to proof correlation these days?’

‘No, but—’

‘There are no buts,’ Father said, then he whirled on Varrick. ‘You have three days. Find us our offering. By yourself.’

‘Yes, Father,’ Varrick said.

Father’s gaze remained on him. ‘Should you fail again, you will turn in your bow. Perhaps one of our other hunters can put it to better use.’

‘Father.’ Varrick lowered his head.

Nerya found her mother’s eyes and silently pleaded for her intervention.

The woman solemnly shook her head.

It was when the building silence over the room was growing oppressive that a servant announced themselves at the entrance. Their message was urgent, for they didn’t leave when Father told them to return later.

‘Chief Arnok, Castle Frostmouth has sent a runner. They ask after our reason for leaving their territory so suddenly.’

‘Turn them away like the last,’ Father said. ‘The Ebonfrosts’s problems are our own. Do not bother me again with such drivel.’

The servant didn’t leave, though. ‘We already did. They refused.’

‘Refused?’ Father said.

‘“The Warden asked and she demands an answer,”’ the servant quoted.

She? Nerya frowned. She stayed in the village, so news of the Duchy never reached her, but she could’ve sworn their ruler was a man.

Father looked equally puzzled, though probably not for the same reason.

‘There’s more, Chieftain,’ the servant said. ‘The guard states she’s visiting Winterforge and expects accommodations for her party.’

‘She’s showing up in person?’ Father said. The slight rise in his tone was unusual, Nerya thought.

‘I’m not certain,’ the servant said. ‘The guard didn’t give a clear answer.’

Father regarded her and Varrick. ‘You’re dismissed.’ He turned back to the servant. ‘Let him in. I’ll hear what he has to say.’

And so Nerya and Varrick quickly left the room to return home. Or so she thought.

‘I’m going out again,’ Varrick said once outside.

Nerya pinched her nose, having already expected this development. ‘Look, I know what Father said. But don’t grow hasty. It’s getting late—’

‘I’ll be careful, Nerya.’

And she could tell from his voice that there would be no convincing him.

She sighed. ‘Okay, but please be back before nightfall.’

‘I will.’

Then he was off.

Nerya watched his silhouette blend with the landscape. She turned to the entrance of their village, where the guard should be. The timing of this visit couldn’t be a coincidence.

I need to prepare, Nerya thought as she returned home. Whatever happened, she would keep her family safe.