((Okay this is my first Dresden File fanfic. I have a mad love for the series and Jim Butcher rules! As usual I don't own anything Dresden related except my Original character etc etc.))
Have you ever been Cold? Not cold but Cold. Think about Greenland cold, or the North Pole cold, and multiply that cold by about ten thousand and then you might have an idea of an idea of what I am speaking of. Imagine a cold that seem to touch at your very soul and then you might have an idea of an idea of what I am speaking of. Definitely not a winter wonderland, maybe its mean older cousin that just got released from prison. No, I reckon you haven't ever felt anything like that. Lucky you. Believe me its not a good feeling, but few feelings in Queen Mab's wintery realm are. I shook my head in a vain attempt to clear my eyelashes of the accumulated snow flecks that had gathered there as the blizzard continued. Something definitely had old Mab's panties up in a bunch if this storm was anything to judge from. Needless to say that sucked ass for me, freezing to death would not help my mission and was not in any way fun either.
Do you think the Winter Queen knows of our coming?
The voice which sounded in my head spoke perfect English with just the faintest hint of a lilting accent as if she was about to burst into song at any moment. Pleasant as her voice was I gave an involuntary shudder as I always did upon the intrusion into my mind. Necessary as it was, 'hearing voices' was never a good thing. Especially when they were asking such scary questions. Nay, another voice mentally answered before I could. This one was low, rumbling, and definitely masculine; carrying with it an edge of superiority. The voice of a Fae was unmistakable. Queen Winter has never been overly subtle, least of all here in the heart of her domain. Knew she of our quest in her torture chambers now we would be.
I would thank thee both to shut the fuck up, I mentally snapped in my worst Old English imitation. The two voices fell silent but I could feel their dislike for me over the mental link that we all share. Hey, tough turkey. I was not usually so cross but I was colder than I had ever been in my life, I was scared shitless of what would happen if happen if something went wrong, and most importantly I didn't like people talking in my head. Too many episodes of Psycho Circus, but there it was.
We continued our walk in silence for a few minutes, walk being an understatement of course. You didn't walk through knee high snow, you forced your way through it. Slow work that was exhausting beyond believe but there was no alternative that wouldn't draw us attention and by extension a painful death or worst.
Hurry up Man! The male voice said impatiently, You're falling behind.
I promptly replied by telling him to go somewhere and do something which caused him to growl in anger. I smirked in satisfaction and rubbed my gloved hands together trying to get back some feeling into them without success. How long had it been since we had entered Faerie? No more than a hour, two at max. But time in the Nevernever was not tantamount to time back home. All those old fairy tales like rip van wrinkle and sleeping beauty were based on that truth. A few hours here could be days back on earth. Which means there was a good chance I was going to miss Kayla's audition, I winced as I briefly imagined what choice words she would have for me if that happened.
The snow, said the female voice uneasily. Tis stopping.
She was right, the snow was easing up. I could actually see for more than a few feet now. That could be a very good sign, but it could also mean something deeply sinister. I told myself that I believe the first but the deep sense of unease upon me informed me of my true feelings. I wasn't fooling nobody, odds are that something very detrimental to my health was about to happen. God, the world sucks. I sighed and loosened Victor in its scabbard, making it easier to draw.
The snow had stopped completely now revealing the barren wasteland that was Winter's part of Faerie in all its barren glory. To the West and East there was nothing except miles and miles of undisturbed snow. To the North, the direction we were currently heading, there was a rock field. We were close enough that I could see that some of the boulders were thrice my size and all frosted over with ice. A wind began blowing that sounded too much like groans of despair for my liking. I shivered, this time with more than cold. Men this place was creepy.
"We're being hunted." The male voice said out loud.
I turned and looked at him, seeing him for the first time since before we entered Winter Faerie. Even though he was a Centaur, Proudfoot could only be described as lordly. Yes, he was an actual Centaur. From the waist he was smoothly grafted onto the body of crimson red horse. The hair which fell down to his lower back was lighter than that of his horse body but was still a fiery red, as were his brows and his great bushy beard. His face was handsome if a bit haughty, with a long straight nose and a low forehead. His eyes were emerald green and were currently darting from side to side seeking something.
"Can you tell what it is?" I asked a bit hoarsely, animosity forgotten in the face of this current threat. Before he could speak the question became academic when the snow directly before me exploded upwards and a dark blur hurtled for me as swift and irresistible as a bolt of lighting.
Even as fast as I leapt back my attacker was faster. I suppose I could make excuses about the cold clouding my senses and the snow impeding my movements. But it really didn't matter. The fact of the matter was that I didn't avoid the blow and the beast, whatever it was, crashed into my chest with about a thousand tons of force and I flew backwards for a good five feet before slamming down, hitting my head hard upon a rock. I grunted as stars exploded before my vision while agony raced through my skull. The whole goddamn snow field was bare of anything when we were walking through but of course I would end up hitting my head on a rock! I looked down cross-eyed and still a little daze. What I saw caused me to stiffen. Something was standing on my stomach. It roughly resembled a black bobcat except for subtle differences, the head was shaped vaguely different, the fur was courser, the paws just a bit wider. But most noticeably it looked like it was on steroids, its fur stretched tightly over corded and powerful muscles. If there was ever a Hercules of cats, then it would be this one standing on my chest. Its cat eyes gleamed in the watery sunlight and it wore a Cheshire grin. It was a Malk. Not one of the most powerful of the Unseelie Fae but undeniably deadly, especially in situations like these.
"Intruders," it said. Its voice was soft and mewling with just the hint of a hiss upon the s, exactly what you would expect a cat's voice to sound like if it could talk. "Your lives are forfeit for this trespass. Die!"
Yikes, a bad guy without a fetish for gloating and long drawn out speeches. What is the world coming to? The Malk pushed off my chest, its razor sharp claws shredding my heavy fur coat and the thick leather jacket beneath it to rake deep furrows lengthwise along my abdomen causing me to scream, and lunged for my throat. I thrust out a hand to intercept its cruel fangs, knowing that it would hurt like a bitch, but there was little else I could do until I had had a chance to focus my powers. However, I needed not have bothered for just then a feathered arrow slammed into the Malk's side and it tumbled off me with a yowling cry of pure undiluted pain. I took the chance to scramble to my feet and give my savior a grateful nod which I instantly regretted as it caused my already throbbing head to protest even more. The woman who had just kept my hide whole was a few inches taller than my six one, and was the epitome of feminine perfection. Pale skin that seem to give off a ruddy glow, curly locks of gold set in a attractive page cut, a banging body with breast any porn star would kill for, and deep soulful gray eyes the same hue of storm clouds. She was currently utilizing a longbow to devastating effect, shooting and reloading so fast that her hands blurred. It was only during times like this that you could tell that Allana was definitely not human.
I had no more time to admire her because out of the corner of my eye I could see two blurs heading straight towards me. Time to play rough. I closed my eyes and drew the long sleek katana from its cloth of gold scabbard and held it overhead admiring the way the watery sunlight caught upon the perfectly made blade. Pure power suffused my body, flowing up from my hand where it contacted the hilt. It was better than any drug, better than any sugar rush, it was a shot of pure adrenaline that made you want to jump up and run and fly all at the same time. As always a host of unbidden images flooded through my mind like a tsunami. Memories of the final moments of the sword's millions of victims. Only years of practice kept me from falling to the ground and writhing around under the torrent of death, destruction, and blood so intense that I could almost feel the bloody end of every unfortunate soul. The whole event only took about three second, and when I opened my eyes again the world was different. Not so much changed as revealed. It was as if though a film had been removed from my senses. Everything was clearer. Smells were sharper. I could almost count the hairs on the backs of the two Malks that were streaking towards me, their fangs and claws gleaming cruelly. I was no longer afraid, the playing field was as level as it was ever going to be. It was time to start hacking and dicing. I ran to meet the duo with a great yell and I had barely raised my sword when they were upon me. My katana leapt forward, still gleaming in the half light of the above sun. It was amazing how during a life and death struggle the mind could find time for the most unimportant and useless of details. For instances how beautiful one's sword truly was. Almost two feet long and curved slightly. A writhing dragon was engraved upon the ancient bamboo hilt, and another one towards the edge of the blade. Perfect for thrusting and even better for cutting, deadly in the hands of a good swordsman as its very violent history could testify to. The blade had seen and assisted in the rise and fall of nations for almost a thousand years, and in that time it had spilled the blood of thrice that number of people. It was Masamune's Lost Creation, Dijimono Masamune, the Blood Eater. It was my most prized position, Victor. And it was about to have its fill again.
The blade met the first Malk who had leapt towards me in midair and sheared through its torso. The two parts of its body fell to the ground with a wet thud and I allowed myself a feral smile. Score one for me. I pulled back and lunged forward towards the second cat but with a hiss it dodged under my sword and slammed into my right leg, throwing me off balance. I staggered back and before I could counteract fangs sank deeply into my calf. White hot pain seared up my leg and I screamed out for the umpteenth time. With an angry yell I swiped down at the Fae who managed to leap out of the way a split second before I could behead him. I pursued lunging and swiping. It was not enough that I was cold. Now I was cold, had a nasty headache, and was bleeding from multiple wounds to booth. Someone had to pay for this, and that damn Malk was as good a target as any. A shifting of the air to the right warned me of incoming doom. I managed to turn my body to the side in time to avoid getting my face ripped clean off by another pouncing Malk; the breeze of its passing rustled my hair as it missed me by inches. That had been way too close for comfort, I thought as I drew back from the duo of Malks. They didn't give me a chance to recover, with yowls of what could only be anger they both rushed me simultaneously.
The smaller of the duo reached me slightly ahead of its kin and lunged for my face once more, it seemed to be a favorite tactic. I caught it in midair upon the tip of my blade and tossed it aside before turning to face the other…..to find that the other was dead. A feathered shaft sticking out from its skull and steam rising from the wound as the iron arrow head steadily burned away at the Fae flesh. Just like that, the fight was over. I looked around just to make sure and saw only broken and dismembered bodies, many times the corpses were feathered with multiple arrows. The snow all around was a crimson slushy.
"Iron." Proudfoot rumbled as he clopped towards me, eyeing my unsheathed blade with a mixture of loathing and fear. "Not even Winter Fae deserve so gruesome a death."
"Stow it." I said. I took a deep breath as I sheathed blade. Weariness struck me like a truck as I shut off my supermode. My knees buckled and I collapsed with a grunt, blackness swimming at the edge of my vision. I couldn't allow myself to lose consciousness, I wouldn't put it pass my companions to leave me here if I did.
"What are you doing Man?" Proudfoot demanded. "Tis no time for resting. If yon Malks were indeed pledge to Frost Queen's service then their deaths she would have felt."
"Meaning that our cover is effectively blown," Allana said before muttering something under our breath. 'We've got to continue moving. Now."
"Give me a sec." I said holding out one hand in a stopping gesture. My voice was rough with tiredness. I could draw upon the sword at any time. It effectively granted me greatly enhanced speed, strength, agility, durability, etc. But yup, you guessed it there was a price. It was a bit comparable to energy drinks and the resulting sugar crash, but on a nuclear scale. Pushing your body way pass its capabilities tended to leave you a wee bit on the tired side. It was a hypothesis that I never planned to test that if I drew upon the sword for too long I would finally meet the old man with the scythe. Luckily no fight I got in seem to last more than a few minutes. From a long ways off there was a rumbling sound somewhat akin to an avalanche or a landslide, whatever it was I didn't think that it was good news. I struggled to my feet my breaths coming in little gasp.
"We've got to go now." Proudfoot urged before turning and cantering off. Allana looked at me hard for a long second before turning and following suit, running with long graceful strides that reminded me of a hind. I took a deep breath and followed them as best as I could. Which essentially mean I staggered all over the place and tried to keep my body going on a forward course. As I continued my shuffling trot I couldn't help but reflect on the events that had led to me being here in one of the most godforsaken places in existence. Now that was a story.