The Icemark Chronicles: The Cry of the Icemark (33 page)

The storm raged for two days, screeching like a “sackful of boiled monkeys,” as Oskan put it. But at last the wind slowly dropped, until its final moan drifted away over the ice and silence returned. Grinelda Blood-tooth opened the flap in the hide tent and crawled out. Downwind of the storm, snow had gathered around the wall of ice blocks in a long-tailed drift that stretched off into the darkness, but on the windward side the wall was smoothed and polished as though a giant hand had rubbed it to a sheen.

The others scrambled out, too, and stood stretching and breathing in as much as they dared of the bitterly freezing but wonderfully fresh air. Two days spent in the cramped company of twelve huge and hairy werewolves was not the most fragrant of experiences, and the pristine beauty of the frozen world was in striking contrast to being inside the tent. After a few minutes of enjoying the freedom of space, the Wolffolk started to prepare food and soon they were all eating the inevitable meal of meat.

After that it was a matter of minutes before the tents and other equipment were stashed away, and they set off once again on their trek to the Kingdom of the Snow Leopards. Thirrin and Oskan took their usual places in one of the sleighs, and they sped over the ice as the world got steadily colder and colder.

The Wolffolk seemed determined to make up as much of the lost time as they could, and they ran on for hours as the stars wheeled slowly in the black crystal sky. Then, as Thirrin and Oskan watched the stately theater of the night, a sudden burst of color draped itself in a long wavering streamer from horizon to horizon. They both gasped aloud, and the werewolves slowed and stopped before throwing back their heads and howling.

“What is it?” Thirrin called to them. “What are those strange lights?”

“The Veils of the Blessed Moon, My Lady,” Grinelda answered as a cascading curtain of red-and-yellow flame shimmered and flickered over the sky. “They’re omens of great good fortune.”

The visual immensity of the display of fire was in awesome contrast to its total silence. In Thirrin’s opinion, a manifestation of such brilliance and beauty should have crackled and roared like the biggest bonfire, and yet every cascading waterfall
of color, every billowing banner of light, was as strangely soundless as an empty hall.

“I think I remember Maggiore talking about this in one of my geography lessons.”

“You did listen sometimes, then?” Oskan whispered, as though not to disturb the display and frighten it away.

“It had a strange name … the aurora borealis, I think … Yes, that’s it! The aurora borealis.”

“So what is it? What causes it?”

“I can’t rightly remember,” Thirrin answered. “It’s to do with the sun’s light on the upper atmosphere, or something like that.”

“That’s the trouble with science. It has to
explain
beauty. It can’t just let it be.”

“It doesn’t stop it from being beautiful.”

“No, but it takes away the mystery. It takes away the magic. I prefer the Wolffolk’s name for it: the Veils of the Blessed Moon.”

“But you asked me what it was. You wanted to know.”

“Well, next time don’t tell me. Knowing exactly what things are doesn’t improve my life in any way.”

“You know you don’t mean that. You’re just reacting against the Empire and its scientists. You’ve already said that science can be used for good.”

“Well, yes, I suppose so,” Oskan agreed grudgingly. “But leave some magic in the world. Leave us some mystery to enjoy.”

The werewolves now began to pull the sleighs again, and they traveled on under the colossal and silent majesty of the northern lights until, on the horizon, a dim uplifting of the land beneath its frozen skin of ice began to appear. Gradually over the next hour or so, the hills resolved themselves into
mountains that climbed in awful majesty, white and glistering against the black of the perpetual night. The aurora borealis bathed their white crags in a deep blush of blue and crimson, and a shooting star blazed over the highest peak.

“The Kingdom of the Snow Leopards,” called Grinelda, and the sleighs shot forward at even greater speed as they headed toward the mountains.

T
he Wolffolk had stopped and were staring at something in the distance. Both Thirrin and Oskan stood up in the sleigh and tried to make out exactly what was approaching. At first they could see nothing, and when they called to Grinelda she waved them to silence without taking her eyes off the horizon.

Then, after a few minutes, all the werewolves stepped out of the traces and formed a tight protective ring around their human charges. Oskan gasped and seized Thirrin’s hand. “There!” he said, pointing. “A leopard, an enormous leopard!”

She followed his pointing finger, screwed her eyes against the distance, and at last saw it. It was closer than she thought. Its mainly white, black-spotted coat camouflaged it perfectly against the background of snow, ice, and shadow. And Oskan hadn’t exaggerated, it
was
enormous: about the size of a warhorse at the shoulder, and its massive head was lit by eyes of vivid amber.

As it walked unhurriedly over the snow toward them, Thirrin noticed that its paws were huge and soft-looking, and despite its obvious weight they carried the animal over the
loosest snow without once sinking through. But it was its mouth that held her attention: As the leopard approached, it raised its head and drew back its lips in an action that was so like Primplepuss that Thirrin knew it was scenting them. The movement revealed a row of teeth that made her shiver. They seemed whiter than the surrounding snow, the smallest of them were longer than her fingers, and the fangs looked as lethal as ivory cavalry sabers.

Thirrin squeezed Oskan’s hand once for comfort, then she released it and raised her head proudly as she donned her full queenly persona.

The creature stopped about ten feet away from the nearest werewolf and sat down. After a moment of gazing at them, it licked a paw and yawned enormously, displaying its impressive teeth, and then to the amazement of the human members of the party, it spoke.

“Who are you that trespass on the lands of Tharaman, the Thar of the Snow Leopards?”

Even though both Thirrin and Oskan had been told that the leopards could talk, they had expected them to sound like the werewolves, uttering the gruntings and growlings of an animal in a way that somehow resembled speech. But this creature sounded completely human, even refined, and a little bored.

“You know well that we are Wolffolk of the Ukpik tribe,” the leader of the white werewolves replied. “And we bring with us Queen Thirrin Freer Strong-in-the-Arm Lindenshield, Wildcat of the North and Monarch of the Land of the Icemark. With her is her adviser Oskan the Warlock. They are humans who seek audience with Tharaman-Thar of the Snow Leopards.”

The creature immediately stopped licking its paw and
looked up. “Humans! Here? Let me see these beings of legend.”

Thirrin immediately jumped down from the sleigh and advanced toward the leopard, while Oskan scrambled behind her and tried not to look afraid.

The giant cat stared at them for a long moment, then said, “Are these puny things human beings? Well, how disappointing. I really can’t believe that these small objects were blessed with the same tongue as the Leopard People. Tell them to go back where they came from.”

Thirrin was so furious she forgot to be afraid and, drawing her sword, she advanced on the leopard. “Small or not, Master Pussycat, I will not go back, unless, of course, I take your head as a trophy for my wall!”

The creature laid back its ears in amazement. “They do speak our language, and with clear diction, too!”

By this time Thirrin was standing squarely beneath the leopard’s chin, and she placed her sword against its broad throat. “I’d say you speak
our
language, pussycat, and quite well for an animal. But if you wish words and not blood to come gushing out of your mouth, I suggest you show a lot more respect!”

The giant leopard looked down at her and, nonchalantly raising a paw, it flexed a set of long and glittering claws. “I’d say the human being is a little underarmed and undersized to threaten me effectively. Still, I must admit it’s brave — almost a pity to kill it.”

“Oh yes, you could kill me,” said Thirrin in a voice that hissed with rage. “But I can assure you, you’d die of your wounds before you could gloat!” And with sudden lightning speed, her sword flickered and both sets of the Snow Leopard’s whiskers and the tip of his beard lay in the snow.

The giant cat let out a roar that almost flattened Thirrin, and reared up on its haunches so that it towered into the sky like a vast monolith of living ice. Both its forepaws were now glittering with enormous claws, and its open jaw was like a cave festooned with white and jagged stalactites. She waited for the beast to strike but instead it stepped back and looked at its whiskers. “Oh dear. What will the others say?” The leopard glanced at Thirrin. “Do I look too ridiculous?” Then it did something that almost made her drop her sword. The cat laughed, and the sound was so human and joyous she almost joined in.

The massive tension that had built up evaporated, and Oskan breathed a sigh of relief. Somehow, despite Thirrin and her temper, they’d survived their first meeting with a Snow Leopard.

“Madam, my name is Taradan, second in command of the armies of Tharaman-Thar of the Snow Leopards. We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. My fault entirely for underestimating the spirit of human beings. May we begin again?”

“We may,” Thirrin agreed.

“I am forever grateful, My Lady. Then, first, as the herald of the Thar of the Leopard People, might I ask why you have come to our lands?”

“I seek an audience with Tharaman-Thar, where my business will be stated clearly for all to hear.”

“I see … then you’re not the vanguard of an invading army?”

Thirrin laughed shortly. “No. I’ve come to offer friendship and alliance with the Leopard People. Any more than that I will not say until I am in the presence of the Thar.”

“Very well. I’ve asked the questions that tradition decrees, and since you’re obviously not part of an invading army, I’ll escort you to the royal palace of Lord Tharaman, One Hundredth Thar of the Leopard People,” he said. Walking a
little way off into the snows, he then raised his head and let out a series of short coughing barks that echoed over the sky.

After a few moments, Thirrin thought she heard a distant reply, followed by two others from different directions. When all had fallen silent again, the Snow Leopard turned to them and said, “Climb back into your sleigh, Thirrin-Thar, and have your Wolffolk follow me. We still have a long journey ahead of us.”

The werewolves picked up the traces of the sleighs again, and Thirrin and Oskan settled back under the furs. Soon they were hurtling over the snows, following the giant leopard as he ran ahead with the grace and beauty of muscled water.

A few hours later they approached the lower slopes of the mountains that stood at the Hub of the World. The high peaks and slopes were uniformly covered in snow, and under the light of the stars and a three-quarter moon, they gleamed and shimmered like chiseled light.

“It’s beautiful,” Oskan stated matter-of-factly, as though announcing the day of the week. “Beautiful and terrible. Rather like our friend the leopard.”

“Yes,” Thirrin agreed. “He could almost be made from the same material as the mountain.”

Oskan looked ahead to where Taradan galloped over the snows. “Yes, it’s hard to believe warm blood courses through that beautiful body. I’d expect quicksilver or maybe
ichor,
the blood of the gods.”

“Do you think we’re going to die, Oskan?” Thirrin suddenly asked in completely calm tones.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Perhaps. But Taradan seems friendly enough … for now.”

“True, but I have a feeling that it’s all surface, and if you scratched below the outer layer, you’d find an incredible savagery.”

“I’m sure you would; they’re wild animals, after all. Just because they sound like Maggiore Totus doesn’t mean they have his attitude toward life. If in the end they decide they don’t like us, you can be certain we’ll just be another snack for whichever leopard gets to us first.”

“Yes, I suppose so. Still, we had to try, didn’t we?”

“We had to try,” Oskan agreed.

A short time later Thirrin and Oskan sensed they were at last nearing the end of their journey, a wide valley opened up before them, and their pace began to slow. The cliffs that bordered each side of the valley loomed slowly closer as the road narrowed. The scattered boulders gathered around the towering walls as though their stony faces were frozen waterfalls and the rocks were the glacial spray that had flown up in some unimaginable past. It was then that Thirrin noticed figures sitting or lying on top of the rocks. Snow Leopards! Each one was at least as big as a warhorse, but their coats blended so perfectly with the background that she’d only noticed them as their sleighs passed directly beneath them.