FrostFire (14 page)

They watched me with pitying eyes, and said nothing.

I tried to tell myself that I was imagining things. I knew very well that I was plain, stocky and drab. Why would anyone follow me? Look at me, even? I could not bear to see the fear and worry in Ma’s face, to force her to move on again when nothing had happened. So I kept the fear and worry for myself. And I prayed – not to the god of my people, the god who had forsaken me – but to my father’s memory.

We stayed.

That day – a crisp, winter’s day, frosty and clear, six weeks after we had come to the village – I had been sent out to pick a certain tree moss for one of Ma’s chest poultices. The task was urgent. The miller, who was one of the village elders and the second richest person there after Werrik’s mother, had been taken ill and begun coughing blood. There was a lot of money in it for Ma if she could ease him.

I kept to the outskirts of the wood, with the village in sight, and kept my eyes and ears sharp. But Werrik knew the forest far better than me. By the time I sensed him close by he was already upon me.

I do not want to remember.

I see it in my mind as a series of flashes, jumbled and disconnected, each one limned in darkness. Like fragments of a shattered pot whose edges will never fit together properly again, no matter how skilfully they are glued. Maybe this is the only way I can bear to have the memories in my head.

There is a flash of terror as I see the hungry shine in Werrik’s eyes.

Keep quiet.

There is a flash of blurring trees and sudden pain lancing through my forehead as I try to dodge past him and he catches me and pushes me face down on the ground.

Keep out of trouble.

There is a flash of hands, boy’s hands, thin and soft and bony, but strong as a man’s, closing around my throat. Bruises throbbing on my skin. The shrill ripping noise of my shawl. The stink of sweat.

Don’t fight.

There is a flash that fills my ears with the sound of my own screaming, that crushes me with the weight of Werrik on top of me, that makes my face go numb as he cracks my nose into the dirt. Blood spilling down my face.

And then my father’s voice. There are no words in it this time, only a howl of rage.

Ice, tearing through my body, a flood of power and cold fury.

The Wolf took me.

I was glad. I was glad. I was glad.

Until the Wolf left me again. Left me there crouching over Werrik, my hands soaked in blood that was not mine, my torn dress scattered with white flecks of bone and other things, worse things.

Until I looked down at Werrik. At what was left of Werrik’s face.

And it was too late then. Too late to say I had only wanted to stop him, to defend myself, to get away. Too late to take it back.

“W
hat I want you to think about,” Luca said, as he folded himself into a cross-legged position on the grass in the clearing behind his tent, “is the space around you. Try to think of it as … a bubble. A sphere, just large enough that, if you stretch out your arms, you can touch it with the tips of your fingers.”

I pulled my legs more tightly underneath me and looked around at the clearing. The sky was overcast, and the day was humid. Sweat made me feel sticky and uncomfortable, even though all I had done so far was to walk out here and sit down.

“Are you ignoring me already?” Luca asked. “We haven’t even started yet!”

“No – I’m trying but – I don’t really understand this. How it will help me, I mean.”

Luca’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. I tried not to fidget under his piercing stare. “Your wolf, the ‘curse’ that you have, it stirs when you’re wounded, yes? When you see your own blood.”

I nodded reluctantly.

“Then the obvious course of action is to make you stronger, faster – a better fighter – and so less likely to shed blood in battle.”

I nodded again, more eagerly this time.

“But that, on its own, won’t deal with the real problem. We need to get to the root of what the wolf is, and why it responds that way to your blood. Maybe first – before we start work – it would help if you told me more about the wolf. What do you know about it? How exactly does it work?”

I sat silently for a little while, struggling to find words to explain the beliefs I had lived with all my life. “In–in Uskaand there are two gods,” I began hesitantly. “The first is Askaan. The god of light and justice. He is the one they build temples to, the one they worship, the one they pray to. His domain is the world of humans and their spirits. He decides which children shall be born, and when everyone should die. The Other god is … is not a true god. That’s what the Askaanian priests teach in their temples. They say he is the opposite of Askaan. A being not of divinity, but of darkness. Most towns have a priest of the Other, but they’re there as a sort of … safeguard. To keep the Other out. No churches are built for the god of the Other. People don’t pray to or worship him. They fear him. His name is never spoken. He is the god of wild creatures, of miscarried children, of disease and suffering. Some people call him the ‘Wolf’, because it’s said when he comes to his priests in dreams that’s the form he takes.”

“So you believe your wolf is some aspect of a god? The god of the Other?”

“It sounds ridiculous when you say it like that. I don’t know. A demon of the Other, maybe? I think that’s what the priests said. But they also called it a curse. I wasn’t able to ask any questions.”

“I’ve already told you that I don’t believe in curses. I definitely don’t believe in demons. I’ll tell you what I think. There have always been people who have lost control of themselves in battle. History calls them ‘berserkers’ – and you’ve used that word yourself, in fact. In the
Book of Rodica
, there’s a famous hero called Sedrun. His family was killed before his eyes when he was a child. After that he was adopted into a new family and seemed to be perfectly normal, until a battle when he was in his early teens.

“When he saw one of his adopted kinsmen fall, he went into his first berserk rage. It’s said that his face swelled to twice its normal size and glowed red, and his hair stood out around his head like spikes. He slaughtered the enemy. More than that, he slaughtered everyone in the enemy camp, even the camp followers, and wounded or unarmed men. He killed their animals and set fire to their tents. His own family didn’t dare to go near him until the rage had dissipated. What does that tell you?”

“That he was a monster,” I whispered, appalled.

“No,” Luca said emphatically. “It tells you that Sedrun was so terrified of watching his family die again that his fear transformed him. Took control of him. He destroyed every person who could possibly have been a threat to the ones he loved. Once he had done that, he returned to himself.”

“That doesn’t make it all right,” I protested. “How could he live with himself? He did such terrible things!”

“Sedrun’s family called him a hero. They had been losing, and he saved them. After his display, very few people dared to attack them again. That’s not the point, though. What I’m saying is that his berserker rages were linked to fear, to self-preservation. And I think yours are too. You say that the wolf takes control when it sees your blood. For you, the sight of your own blood is the trigger that causes your fear to become overwhelming. We need to teach you to accept that fear and control it. Once you’ve done that, you will be able to accept and control the wolf.”

“But–but I don’t
want
that. I don’t want to accept the Wolf. It’s horrible, it’s evil. I want to get rid of it.”

“I don’t know if that’s possible,” Luca said gently. “The wolf is a part of you.”

My fingers tore at the rough grass under my legs. “It isn’t. It isn’t a part of me. I’m not like that.”

“Listen, there may be others out there who can do more for you, who can … lift the curse, or whatever you call it. You don’t have to give up hope of that. But, for the moment, I can try to help you control your berserker rage. That’s better than nothing, isn’t it?”

I looked up from my handfuls of uprooted grass. He was offering me more help and understanding than anyone ever had. I had to believe in him. “Of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be ungrateful.”

He pulled a disgusted face. “I don’t want gratitude! I just want you to listen to me and try this. Can you please do that?”

“I can try.”

“All right, then. Now, you might not understand the significance of what I’m talking about this minute,” he said patiently; “but it
is
important. I want you to close your eyes. In your mind, create a sphere – the sphere of space surrounding you. Feel it. It’s yours. Everything inside it belongs to you, every speck of dust, every breath of air.”

A ring of space that enveloped me? Like a shell of light? It would be … bright. A bright, silvery blue, shining like starlight on snow.
Cold.
I shivered. There was a squawk and a flutter – birds fighting overhead. My brain seized on the sound, wanting the distraction. I took another deep breath and forced myself to focus on the soothing rumble of Luca’s voice: “… Breathe in slowly. Now out. Breath in. Out. Feel your breath. Feel your body, the weight and strength of it. Feel the life in your body, the light that lives inside you. Try to see it in your mind.”

The light inside me would be like the light of the sphere. Blue, bright. I could almost feel the chill. The sensation was strangely pleasant in the damp humidity of the day.

“… See the light flowing through your veins, in your fingertips, your face, your lungs, your legs. Breathe in. Breathe out.”

I imagined myself flooded with the steady silvery-blue light. It felt startlingly real. I almost believed that if I were to open my eyes, I would see the icy glow showing through my skin, lighting me from the inside out.

“You have doubts and fear. They give you a sick, clutching feeling in your chest and stomach, don’t they? Those feelings are a shadow inside you, a darkness that muffles the light. Take a deep breath, and suck that shadow, all that darkness, down, deep into the pit of your stomach. Can you see it?”

I nodded. As I breathed in, I could see the long, tangled threads of darkness unravelling from the delicate tracery of veins and bones; I was drawing it away from where it blocked out the silvery light. It gathered in the centre of my body. The negative emotions – anger, fear, sorrow, pain – struggled and fought there, clenching together like a black vaporous fist.

“… Take another deep breath. Now breathe out, long and slow, and imagine that darkness, all those feelings, flowing up out of you, flowing away.”

I felt the choking blackness travel up out of my throat with my breath; I saw it fill the air like smoke and burn away, torn to rags by the air and the light. The light flowed into the space left behind and flared with new brilliance. For a moment I saw the rippling colours of the Mother’s Fire there: green and purple and vivid turquoise and silver. But the flames had no heat. The silvery-blue light and the peacock shades danced together, beckoning, drawing me in. I wanted to let go, to lose myself in the light…

Another shiver travelled through my body, making my fingers and toes twitch.

My daughter…

My eyes flew open and I slapped my hands flat on the wiry grass. I stared down at them. They were brown. The grass was green. My breath did not cloud in the air. I was safe. I had to be safe.

Please, please, let me be safe.

“Are you all right?” I hadn’t heard him move – I never did – but suddenly he was kneeling next to me, one hand coming to rest lightly on my back. “What happened?”

What
had
happened?

It had to have been my imagination again, like last night at the fire. That was the only explanation. I was new at this and I’d become scared and … and that was all.

“I don’t know,” I said, truthfully enough. “I saw the light, like you said. It was … strange.”

Luca rubbed my back: an absent, comforting gesture. Instead of shrugging away from that touch, I found I wanted to lean in it.

“That’s a good sign,” he said. “It means you went deep into yourself. I think you did well, especially for a first time.”

His praise brought heat flooding into my cheeks, banishing the chill brought on by the strange trance. I ducked my head and found myself staring at the warm golden skin of his throat, revealed by his carelessly laced shirt. The muscles of his chest and arm bulged against the fine material of the garment. His touch on my back seemed to radiate warmth. Another shiver went through me, but it was not the cold that shook my body this time.

“Frost?”

I looked straight up into his eyes. Everything I was feeling must have shown on my face. I heard his sharp intake of breath.

His hand curled against the curve of my spine, fingertips grazing the bare skin above the waist of my breeches. I shuddered. He repeated my name, and this time … this time it was different.

His face moved closer to mine. His breath was on my face. Then we were kissing, hot, moist lips clinging together. Unthinkingly, I pressed my body into his. The hand on my back fisted, drawing my shirt tightly across my breasts. I gasped, my own hands clenching on my knees, longing to touch him but not quite brave enough.

He released me so abruptly that I fell back on my heels. “I shouldn’t have done that.” His voice was low, almost harsh. “It isn’t right.”

The words fell on me like a sudden downpour of snow. In an instant I was transformed from a living, breathing girl into something frozen and cold. Shame made me feel physically sick; clammy sweat sprung up all over my body.

Oh, Father, what have I done?

“I’m sorry…” I whispered. My voice came out cracked and hoarse.

“Frost – Frost – I didn’t mean—” He sounded distraught.

I shook my head fiercely. “I know.”

“It’s not your fault. I should have known better.”

“Don’t.” I scrambled to my feet.

He rose too, putting out a hand as if to – what? Restrain me? Comfort me? Before his fingers could make contact, there was a conspicuous throat-clearing from somewhere near by. We both jumped. It was the first time I’d ever seen Luca taken by surprise – which only made me feel worse. We both turned to see Arian standing in the shade of the tent, his eyes fixed firmly on his boot-tips.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, sounding anything but. “Two of the scouts have come back with number-reports for you, Luca. I thought you’d want to speak to them as soon as possible.”

Luca seemed to hesitate. He did not look at me. Then he nodded decisively. “You’re right. Where are they?”

“I sent them to Livia. They took a tumble down a rock face on the way back. Nothing serious, but they both have some bruises and scrapes I thought it best to have seen to.”

“Good thinking. I’ll … go then.” He turned to look at me. I fixed my eyes on the dirt.

“Could you take over for me here for a while?” I heard him ask Arian. “Test Frost’s reflexes, show her some basic blocks?”

There was a pause, then a reluctant, “If you think it would be helpful.”

“It would,” Luca said firmly. “Frost, we’re going to speak as soon as I’ve dealt with this.”

I didn’t respond. After a moment I heard him sigh. He walked away, leaving me and Arian alone in the clearing.

The quiet stretched out. Humiliation made my belly clench. Arian must have seen what had happened. He must have. His promise to Luca to teach me was nothing more than a way to get Luca away from me, I was sure. I waited for the sound of his footsteps leaving.

Arian cleared his throat again. “All right. Take up a defensive position.”

I raised my eyes from the ground. “Wh–what?”

“Do you have cloth for ears? Get ready to defend yourself.”

The look in his glacial eyes was annoyed and impatient, but there was no trace of gloating or – worse – pity. He was serious. Slowly, my limbs stiff and heavy, I arranged myself with feet braced a shoulder-length apart. Arian moved to stand opposite. He looked at me critically and then grunted in what could have been approval or disparagement.

“Block!” His fist shot towards my face.

I jerked back just in time, arms wheeling for balance.

“I said block, not dodge,” he snapped.

“I d–don’t know how.” I held my hands up in protest. My emotions were already in turmoil and I was mortally afraid I was going to cry.

He spun, one leg flying out in a lethal, fluid movement.

I darted away again. “I said, I don’t know how!”

There was no mistaking the contempt on his face now. “I’m not Luca. You can drop your lost, helpless little girl act.”

“What are you talking about?” I edged warily away from him.

He followed. “I haven’t forgotten how you fought in that valley, even if he has. I know how strong and fast you are. I’ve no intention of standing here pretending to teach you what you already know.”