Chapter 1:
She appeared in a glittering column of snow. Her long white skirts floated about her as she came towards him in the indigo night. She was a creature of the vast ice fields.
Beautiful. Sensuous. Alluring.
He stood frozen in place and watched her, his body numb in the icy wind despite the heavy furs he wore. His mind refused to believe what his eyes saw and his body craved. Golden hair, like a close-fitting cap, hugged her head. Sinuous movements of her arms beckoned him near. Ribbons of silvery fabric streamed behind her as she lifted her arms to him.
With a quick turn of his head he scanned the horizon. The ice fields stretched unbroken in the moonglow save for a few treacherous red rocks that pierced the snow and tripped the unwary foot. He rubbed his gloved hands over his cloth covered face.
Reluctantly, he turned east again to the beguiling ice woman. A new fear, fear that he had lost his mind, joined with an older fear that he might not survive this formidable land. He drew a deep, steadying breath and caught a hint of summer flowers along with the scent of ageless ice.
She waited in silence, many yards away, and raised her hands to him again. He obeyed her summons without thought, mesmerized by her, unable to resist.
The thick snow crust crunched beneath his boots. The wind rose in a mournful ululation as it lifted her sheer gown and twisted it against her body. The fabric traced her lush shape, her full, womanly curves.
A man might warm himself in her embrace.
He pictured her lying naked on his furs, arms open in invitation as they were now, welcoming him. The enticing vision tumbled about in his head. He tried to grasp the warm thoughts, but his mind stumbled along with his feet.
A shriek of wind jerked him back to his path and his goal. The woman blurred a moment before his eyes, then became sharp-edged. Touches of her femininity appeared and disappeared in the eddies of her swirling gown. A sweat flushed his skin beneath the layers of his clothing.
For moments he staggered forward, drawing no closer to her. Touching her became imperative, necessary, as necessary as drawing the chill air into his lungs. He imagined her kiss. Her lips would be full and ripe and gleaming with moisture, as if she had just licked them. He imagined that her taste would heat his blood. He craved the warmth of her body, the intoxication of her scent, the comfort of her long white arms.
He stepped into her embrace and clasped…nothing.
He howled at the pain of it, clenched his fists, and fell to his knees. Around him lay nothing but vast empty space. A blast of raw wind cut his cheeks and harrowed his spirit. With little will to go forward, he knelt, his head hanging down, and cursed the gods.
How smooth and slick and beautiful the world had looked when he'd begun his journey. He had lost count of the sunrisings. Three? Four? Seven? His body yearned for sleep. Clumsy with cold and fatigue, he fell to his side. A sudden stab of pain tore at his cheek and burned like fire up his face to his eye. The flames of pain defied and mocked the cold.
A wounded-animal sound echoed in the empty expanse of wasteland. Had the sound come from him? Struggling on limbs that repeatedly refused to obey, he staggered upright, ashamed of his lapse.
There at his feet gleamed a bright red gem. It glittered against the icy white moonglow. As he watched, more gems appeared. They bounced and rolled away, scattering in the snow. With shaking hands he tore off his gloves and reached for one that lay alone, perfectly round and gleaming. The numb tips of his fingers were clumsy as he tried to lift the fine jewel. It burst and became blood, running between his fingers.
His blood.
Another bright red drop fell to the ice, congealed, and was magically transformed into another gleaming gem. He dashed the drop away with an angry sweep of his hand. More appeared, but he understood now and would not be tricked again.
Relentlessly, he trudged along, too tried to take his direction from the moon overhead.
Why was he crossing this merciless field of ice?
For love. For the love of a friend more a sister than any woman of blood family could be. For a bond more precious than that with a lover.
His strength waned, he found himself standing and staring at the moon.
He kept moving through ice fields that no ninja dared to cross. For without his friend, honor was all he had. He had no family, no illustrious ancestors, no wife waiting dutifully for his return.
Finally, he conceded the ice to be the victor, the cold a merciless conquer, impervious to a ninja's will. With regret, he fell to his knees and scrabbled in his furs for the stone he carried close to his heart.
He tried in vain to rise, but his legs no longer obeyed. "What more do you demand?" He asked the heavens, fist clenched. Try as he might, his strength was gone. As was the stone.
And lost was his desire to go on.
He would not fulfill his quest.
Dignity demanded he not collapse cravenly but meet his fate with his face to the heavens. The moon beckoned overhead. He liked to think it was watching over him and would ease his passage from this life to the next.
"I failed," he whispered. His eyes drifted closed. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Lighting streaked across the barren horizion.