Ice Burns Read online

  Chandra reached out to Frostwhite as she moved through the town. He lifted himself to flight so he could show her from above where to head. She refocused on the uneven terrain in front of her after falling to one knee from a jut in the path.

  By the time she reached the inn, the soaked knee from her fall had frozen stiff, and she welcomed the roaring fire within. The flames seemed to warm her on sight.

  “Food or a room?” the keep asked her from behind a dark wooden bar where he appeared to be washing dishes and stewing a large pot of linens simultaneously.

  “Both actually, if the price is reasonable,” Chandra smiled. The furrier had given her a decent amount of coin for a couple of red fox pelts she had gotten outside Matta’s forest. They had been fully matured males, so there was a lot of thick fur. She knew Matta would have frowned on the killing altogether despite the mindful selection. Coin in her pocket didn't stop her from haggling and they came to a fair agreement before Chandra sat down to eat.

  The furniture in the main room looked to be made from odd and end of trees and massive base trunks. Everything was a myriad of dark colors, stained from food and drink spilled across the rough-hewn wood. The bar was smoother than the rest and a more even tone from leaning arms and consumption drink. Some spots were pitted, but even those were smoothed out as though time smoothed it down like a river does a stone.

  Chandra slept in the tiniest room of the inn that also happened to be closest to the central fireplace. The tiny window in the room was barely big enough for Frostwhite but it kept the room from getting uncomfortably hot.

  Morning came with full bellies, courtesy of the inn. Chandra’s was full of porridge and hard sausage, and Frostwhite’s cleaned up the vermin problem outside. She smiled at the thought of asking for a discount on breakfast for her friend cleaning out the stables. She knew he had eaten quite a few from the random glimpses she got as she finished her breakfast. It was a good thing her friend had begun dining after her.

  The furrier’s shop was not yet opened, so Chandra made her way back to the market for more supplies. After haggling for a few small onions and potatoes, she returned to the furrier as the grizzled shopkeeper opened his doors. He grunted in greeting and made his in, walking straight to the room behind his oil-stained work bench. He returned a few moments later and lay the cloak out for her. Chandra picked it up and put it around her shoulders. The weight was not overly significant but heavy enough that she knew she would likely feel the difference at the end of a day’s trek. She raised the hem up and nodded at the beautiful stitching. Chandra looked for the seams that would hold the hidden pockets. After searching for several minutes, she frowned.

  “Were you not able to add pockets?” she asked.

  The furrier had a sparkle in his eyes under his furry brows. He might have been smiling, but she couldn't tell under his bear-pelt of a beard. He reached out to take the cloak and she noticed that even his hands were furry. Chandra had the fleeting image that he was not a man but a partially shaved bear.

  He twisted the fabric in his massive hands and Chandra opened her mouth to protest at the treatment of her new cloak until two openings appeared at equal intervals along the twisted fabric. She clapped her mouth shut and blinked up at the bear-shopkeeper.

  Chandra put her hand at one of the openings and found that it slid deep into the lining of the cloak. The big man relaxed his grip on the fabric, and Chandra found that the pocket was camouflaged into a tiny pleat of the fabric. The second pocket was in a seam of the hide. She smiled at him and took it back when he released his grip. After she hooked it around her neck, she placed the agreed-upon payment in his massive palm. She wanted to hug him for the beautiful creation.

  “Thank you,” she spoke quietly and smiled up at him. The man flashed teeth and disappeared into the room behind him. She was wearing the first thing she had ever purchased through use of her own skills and with the help of her friend’s hunting skills.

  That night, about a half day’s journey from the Winterbourne castle, Chandra slept in a lean-to. It was well-maintained, hinting at regular hunter use. For that and the small, enclosed fire pit, she was grateful. It was better than most inns she had seen despite the lack of food but there was a clean well hidden behind the building, she only had to break the ice cap. She and Frostwhite settled to sleep on the dusty floor boards, happy to not be on the frozen ground.

  Her dream mind thrust Chandra into the black cavern again with rumbling shaking the ground on which she stood, but she felt less alone for some reason.

  You must go on, child.

  She heard Matta’s voice whisper as though a breeze were slipping along the cavern stone.

  You must face the creature.

  Her fear welled up in her throat, hot and gagging her with the acid of it. I can’t. I can’t, she thought.

  Only you can. If you do not, much more will be at stake than your muddled birthright.

  And if I fail? She asked.

  Then it will be only a matter of time before all you know will falter as well.

  That is too much. You expect too much of me! she called out with her mind, agonized and terrified.

  I do not. You expect too little of yourself. It is time you took control before your magic controls you.

  Matta’s whisper voice had become harsh and weak in her mind, the whispers broken and stuttering. The rumbling got louder, and flashes of light sparked deep in the cavern as though a torch were moving toward her in rapid spurts.

  It is time for you to reach out and embrace who you are!

  Matta’s voice was strangled if insistent. Chandra had the urge to cry and run but stood still. She knew inside that it was time to step forward and she did.

  Right into the sputtering flames that swallowed her whole.

  Chandra woke up drenched in sweat. Frostwhite peered down at her from his perch on a wooden wall brace inside the lean-to. She thought his eyes almost looked suspicious and felt the slightest touch of anger at him overcoming the fear that had followed her from the dream.

  “What?” she snapped but immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry, the nightmares are getting worse and more real.”

  Frostwhite gave her no response.

  "As long as we're already awake, might as well move on to Faust," she huffed and pushed her steadily growing hair out of her face. Chandra gathered her things and packed them, tossing grit from a cinder bucket over the fire to make sure the smolders extinguished before leaving the hut.

  “You’ll be moving on, but not to Faust, mage.”

  Chandra’s eyes widened as she saw someone swing at her as soon as her eyes had adjusted to the pre-dawn light. She ducked but was struck on the back and knocked to the ground. She heard the frantic movement of the hawk at the short ceiling of the tiny lean-to as feet moved quickly around her. She turned her head and saw them toss a net over Frostwhite before a boot to the face stopped her from seeing anything.

  32

  “I can’t believe how stupid you are,” Deakon’s voice roused her after the first round of toxic liquid had been absorbed into her system. “You were somehow smart enough to kill Master Dreys and bribe the guards to let you escape, not to mention all that time you pretended to have magic and then got someone to kill all my men. Yet, here you are--captured again. Helpless.”

  Sound hissed out between her bloody, cracked lips and Chandra realized she was laughing. Deakon frowned. She continued to hiss despite pain from straps that criss-crossed over her body and kept her from moving.

  “Stupid, yes,” she croaked. “Helpless...” She shrugged, trying to swallow. “You’re stupid.” She tried to spit some of the blood out, and it gurgled out of her mouth instead, like foam. Deakon looked disgusted and horrified. Chandra figured this beating, like the last, made her look like raw venison. The young man shook himself and irritation resumed its usual place on his face.

  “Come now, childish insults? How about some magic instead of this pathetic attempt?” His nostrils flar
ed at the dare, and Chandra shook her head. “You deserve to die for killing him. Do you even have any idea what you’ve done?”

  Her eyelids drifted down and the pain was still in her but felt strange; it made her want to sleep. Deakon slapped her.

  “He was my father, and he was going to make me his apprentice, not you!” Deakon hissed, his face inches from her ear where she was strapped to the table. She felt his hot breath panting against her cheek and she shook her head at him.

  “He was. He was protecting me from his enemies by keeping it a secret, and look what good it did him! Killed, instead, by some bastard child he had taken in and raised. A dumb girl who didn’t deserve his affection!”

  Chandra shook her head again. “Tried to kill me,” she rasped. “I deserve to die...but tried to kill me.”

  Chandra knew her words were the truth but she couldn't seem to think straight. She had killed and killed; would she kill again? For some reason, the thought caused her to make that odd laughing sound that only ended when darkness fell on her mind.

  “No, no. Mustn’t touch her or make her angry. You don’t want to make the same mistake twice,” a sharp-nosed man said as he caught Deakon’s hand before it could land a blow to Chandra’s face.

  “Morose, you cannot possibly believe they were destroyed by her!” Deakon yelled, his face purple and his breathing fast.

  “Dear boy, can you not accept the truth? Continuing to deny her power will not solve anything and can only hurt you,” Morose told Deakon, shaking his bald head, a small smile lining his thin lips. The way his nose arced out over his face, he looked like a possum: all teeth and pointed features.

  “I’ve told you, I saw what she can do with my own eyes that day I came to your aid, so please stop denying the truth.”

  His pale eyes glittered when he lifted them to look at Chandra.For a moment, she thought they were translucent like those of Frostwhite. A moment later, she found herself staring into the cold depths of his eyes and wondered how she could have thought the black morass translucent.

  Deakon backed away to stand near the wall. He crossed his arms and stared down at her with eyes narrowed and thin nostrils flared. His gaunt face held a mix of disgust and distrustful confusion.

  “Yes, there is a great deal of power here,” Morose whispered, and Chandra started as if he had slapped her. “Tapping her power will be the best idea your master ever gave you, milord.”

  Each word the man spoke was like a blade being dragged over her spine, and she shuddered. A part of her recoiled as though it would hide deep inside her, as far away from this man as it could get. In her mind, she slowly deciphered what he said. Morose had seen her kill those men; he had seen Chandra’s power burn them to ash.

  Another man entered the room and came around the odd, flat chair Chandra was bound to. He smiled and nodded at everyone in the room. Chandra thought he must be some old servant from the way Deakon and abyss-eyes ignored him. He picked up a bowl with water and a cloth and came over to wipe of Chandra’s face as Deakon and the other man moved away and spoke in hushed tones across the room. His eyes were soft brown with a thin layer of dirty-blond hair on his head and the mark of time across his face. His eyes were wide and blank.

  “Please,” she whispered when his brown eyes met hers, and he smiled at her. “Please, you must help me. These men are going to do something terrible.”

  “No, child,” the man told her, his voice warm and friendly. “You are mistaken. These men will not hurt you.”

  “They will,” she told him, her voice strained with the effort of whispering instead of yelling. “They mean to kill me.”

  The old man shook his head at her and dressed a cut on her hand with some kind of dark cream and rough bandage. He whistled absently as he worked, and Chandra could barely keep from screaming in frustration.

  “You don’t understand,” she tried again. “They wish to drain my magic and kill me. They want me to be tortured.”

  “Magic, hmm? What nonsense. If you were magic, you would escape, wouldn’t you?” The old man looked at her and smiled as if he had solved the puzzle and she should be proud of him for doing so. Chandra hung her head.

  “I can’t. My emotions make it go crazy until I can't do anything. After that, it will only work when I am in danger or distress and then I have no control,” she whispered through the band inside her chest. A small sob escaped her as she felt a tiny bit of her slip further away.

  “I see,” he said softly. “Then perhaps you need to figure out why that is?”

  Chandra lifted her swimming green eyes to the old brown ones. He nodded at her for a moment and then walked away. A moment later, pain and darkness found her, arching her back where she lay strapped down before her body dropped with her into unconsciousness.

  *********************

  When she came to, she found that she was alone in the room, and it was dark outside. She thought about another room so long ago when a great white bird had swooped in and changed her life. She looked around and couldn’t see him. She closed her eyes and reached out to...nothing. Chandra feared the worst.

  The chair she was strapped to was rough on her skin; her clothing had been removed. She felt completely vulnerable. Something in her recognized new danger; a primal, feminine fear clenched at her insides. Her apprehension salted the air as perspiration slid across her raised goose-flesh.

  The door opened, and in walked the tiny old man. He nodded at her and put down a tray of food. She wanted to cover herself, but she was also suddenly ravenous. Chandra’s mouth watered at the smell of the soup and fresh bread.

  “Time to eat!” the old man told her with a smile. He moved the tiny table holding the tray closer to her and brought a stool from across the room to sit in front of her.

  “Open up!” he lifted a spoonful of soup to her mouth, and Chandra eyed him with her mouth closed.

  “Come now, you must eat,” he said, waving the spoon around a little and gesturing with his other hand.

  “Where am I, and who are you?” Chandra asked through clenched teeth.

  “I am Niaz,” he told her and returned the spoon to the bowl. He placed one hand on each knobby knee and looked at her. “I’m not to tell you where you are, though. Nope.”

  “You must help me get away, Niaz,” Chandra told him.

  “You are a prisoner,” he told her simply. “That young man said you’re a murderess. Said you’ve killed many men.”

  Chandra lowered her eyes.

  “I didn’t...” she began and stopped.

  Didn’t what? Kill? She had killed. Didn’t do it on purpose? Hadn’t she decided in that room with Master Dreys that she would either kill or be killed? Chandra let out a heavy sigh.

  “He’s right. I have killed men, and I cannot change that.”

  Niaz nodded at her and said nothing.

  “Don’t you want to know why?” Chandra asked him. Niaz shrugged and smiled at her.

  “I’ve no right to judge. Who am I but some old man?” Niaz told her and shrugged again.

  Chandra shook her head and stared at him. “I didn’t want to kill them. I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t control it.”

  “Hmm,” was all Niaz said as he reached again for the spoon and brought some soup to her mouth. Chandra smelled the heavy stew thick with onion and garlic, and her mouth watered. She opened her lips, and Niaz fed her a spoonful.

  “Seems you need control. Gotta figure out where the magic is hiding then?” Niaz told her as he fed her several more spoonfuls of stew. Chandra nodded, not wanting to speak if it meant she had to stop eating. “Never heard of magic that didn’t answer the caller. Can’t imagine power being called without meaning to.”

  Chandra nodded again, swallowing another mouthful of stew.

  “I’m not sure the magic was ever mine,” she told him, voicing the fear that had nagged her from the moment Frostwhite had entered her room, and she found herself able to find power that she had never known. Her mouth went to
speak again and tell him of her friend but something stopped her. In her mind, she again heard Matta warning her against speaking the Ancient one’s name. Part of her brain whispered it wouldn’t matter since her friend was gone, but still she withheld.

  “Gotta be yours. Who else’s it gonna be?” Niaz chuckled as though he had made a very clever joke. Chandra shrugged and ate more soup. “Focus though. Focus is what you need then. Maybe you need a reason?"

  "Oh!" Niaz set the bowl down, slopping some over the side in his rush. "Brought you your friend,” Niaz said, shuffling to the door and bringing in a shining golden cage that held Frostwhite, and Chandra let out a heavy sigh of relief. “No touch, though. Cage won’t let you!”

  “What do you mean?” Chandra’s eyes widened, and she wondered if Niaz wasn’t a bit off.

  “The cage bites.” Niaz chuckled. “Wanted to make sure birdie didn’t get out.”

  Chandra stared at the cage and saw it shimmering a little too brightly.

  A sharp pain tore across her bare thigh, and Chandra screamed. She looked down to see Niaz at her leg with a long, jagged knife, smiling at her.

  33

  “Angry? Sad? Afraid?” Niaz watched her expectantly.

  She was confused but mostly it just hurt. She didn't know what this simple old man was doing now that she had finally found hope that she might not have to die yet.

  "Well? Can't wait all day." Niaz shook his head at her, a bland smile on his old, simple face. He dug the knife in a little deeper, and Chandra clenched her hands, fighting the scream that filled her throat like a terrified bird. At that moment, with the fire beginning to heat her core, she reached out to Frostwhite's cage. The shock that came from it was painful, but she fought to keep her fingers on the bars despite Niaz's protests. She concentrated on the bars, allowing her anger to build and flow through her, wrapping the cage in fiery magic. Her power ate away at whatever was on the cage until it was smoldering. Her eyes gave her a quick split view with Frostwhite, and she saw tiny flames lick across the cage and fade before someone struck her.