The Ice Storm
Chapter Fifteen
The wood splintered under his heels as Wolf launched himself into the room. Surprise entries were an effective display of bravado that Wolf had used on many occasions, and he allowed himself a moment to enjoy the looks of shocked surprise that everyone in the room now wore. But only for a moment. As the guards blinked and started to react as the trained killers they were, Wolf leapt the few feet to his side that brought him within reach of the most obvious target in the room.
The old queen writhed in his grip, with an undignified squawk of fear. Wolf let his strong grip relax on the back of her neck just a little. "Hello Auburn. I am Wolf" he whispered in her ear. "Your men, you will tell them to stand down. Now" he added, watching the guards closely. They seemed at a loss. Some still had their lances trained on Scarlett. Others were looking at Vermillion for some signal, but the boy had gone as pale as a sheet. As Wolf watched, Scarlett managed to extricate herself from his grip on her arm, backing up now to stand in front of her crying maids.
Standing alone now in the middle of the room, Vermillion seemed to come back to his senses, too quickly for Wolf's liking, but he knew then just how deep the hatred ran in that room for wolfs and their kin.
"Release my mother" the boy said, his voice shrill.
"I will not"
"I command it!"
"You who refuse to treat with the wolfs cannot hope to command them". This was Scarlett now. In the corner of his eye Wolf saw her draw herself together again. It was admirable, he thought, but ultimately useless. They were hopelessly outnumbered. Escape was the only option now, with a hostage preferable. His hostage kicked feebly at his shins. The old woman stank of fear sweat, but underneath it all the rage and revulsion pulsed. Wolf wondered if she would vomit from the disgrace she felt at having one of them touch her. He shook her, just a touch, to let her know who was in charge.
"Stand the guards down, Auburn, or I will break your neck, and not with my hands either" he said, loud enough that the whole room heard it. Vermillion turned to them with the barest of nods. One by one, swords slipped back into sheaths, knives into holsters, but the hate could not be put aside so easily. Outside in the corridor, Wolf could hear more and more of them assembling, whispering, planning their moves. He had a scant few minutes, he knew, before sheer force would tempt them to make a move. He wondered idly if Auburn would even care if she died. But he couldn't give her the time to come to that decision herself.
To Scarlett he said in a low tone "Take what little you need. We are leaving". She almost opened her mouth to protest, but turned to whisper to her maids. They scattered fearfully into the far room, her bedchamber.
"We are at a temporary impasse, it seems" Vermillion said coarsely, trying to muster his bravado but failing miserably. Wolf smiled sweetly, letting his canines flash for a second before he turned to speak to Auburn again.
"You chose poorly for this whelp's fathering, old fox. Too much human blood will erase all manner of useful traits from your line, you know".
"I would wipe your ilk from my very bones if I could!" the aged queen hissed.
"Ah yes, but you never will, you know. It's in you, and all who come down from that line will carry it. Drive them out if you will, select from your newborn those which seem pleasing to you and discard those who don't, but you will never, never cast out the wolf from your great grandmother's bed".
"What, what is this the wolf says?" broke in Vermillion. Sweat broke out on his forehead. Behind the prince, Wolf could see the faces of the guards, each of them trying to make sense of his words.
"Lies! Don't listen to it. They will say anything, you know that" Auburn grated. Wolf tighted his grip on her throat, but he only smiled in response. Let them believe what they would. Ultimately, it made little difference to him though it might prove to make all the difference to some.
"Here's what will be happening, boy" Wolf said into the charged silence. "Scarlett and I will be leaving the city tonight. Auburn is going to give us the guided tour, aren't you?" he said, rattling the old woman's bones. "You will ensure us safe passage, and I will return your old fox to you unharmed. Will you treat with me now?"
Across the room, Wolf watched the prince run the deal through his mind. He tested the grip he had on Auburn, feeling her weight. This was the most dangerous part. Which way would the boy go? Wolf had chosen his words carefully, and spoken them in a precise way that he guessed would appeal to whatever trace of wolf the boy had in him. As the decision clicked into place, Wolf allowed himself a moment's relief and a trace of smugness into his face. The boy had capitulated like a lower class wolf to an alpha, and he hadn't even been aware of it.
The barest of assents, but it was there. "Very well, wolf. But let me warn you now. Not a hair on her head will be harmed, or I will hunt you down and kill you myself" he grated, becoming emboldened by his own speech. Wolf let him puff himself up a little, unconcerned. Behind him, Scarlett now came to his side. She had a small satchel slung over one shoulder. Her face was white with anger and regret, and a new thing, a cold calculation that would have turned even Wolf's bones to water had she directed it at him. But her treacherous brother averted his gaze from it, as did most of the guards.
"Let's go" she said softly, taking charge once more, even in her exiling.
"The Queen comes forth!" barked one of the guards. "Stand down your weapons!". A narrow corridor opened up and Scarlett lead the way forward, Wolf carrying the scowling old woman in front of him, his belt knife at her throat. Wolf could scarcely keep from baring his teeth as the atmosphere of hatred and fear swept over them as the left the castle. He had never felt such hostility, not even from the townsfolk who had burned his parents. As they mounted mangy horses quickly saddled by frightened ostlers, he wondered dimly if he was not inviting a greater calamity upon his people.
As they clattered through the dark streets, followed on all sides by the Red Guards at a discreet distance, he let a series of low, long howls spread throughout the city.
"My people, awake! The Queen is overthrown, flee now for your very lives! The Queen has flown!"
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Virginia felt awkward and clumsy, and it embarassed her. She had a wolf as a mate, did she not? She should have been making a better account of herself. She felt sure that any half-wolf woman would have put up more of a fight, or at the very least made a more dignified approach to being hustled along through the snowy forest pathways. As if in response to her thoughts, her feet slipped sideways again, slumping her into a thicket of stunted bushes. Wet snow slid down her back.
A strong arm reached to grip her shoulder. "This will not do" Yacobe murmured. Virginia was too exhausted to do more than make an attempt to throw his hand off as he helped her to stand. In the frozen forest, she stared at the tall ghost wolf.
"You can't expect me to keep up. I'm too heavy" she said, cradling her protruding belly. "Do you want my child to die?".
His eyes widened in sudden fear, she thought, though his voice betrayed none. "You are right, Virginia. I have...little experience in matters such as cub bearing, but in truth I had not expected you to be so hampered as you have been". Virginia didn't know whether to be insulted or not by this.
"Well, welcome to a woman's life stupid man-wolf..." she began tiredly. Spots swam before her eyes.
"What I meant was that when I first saw you a month ago, I would not have guessed you to be this advanced, with the pregnancy. When I left to fetch you here, I was sure you would be able to travel safely. If not for your scenting, I would not have recognised you in the castle kitchen".
"This has not been a typical pregnancy" Virginia replied, wondering not for the first time if perhaps her apparently trouble free carrying of Caelum was the unusual one in this world.
"No, it would not be. And it has been remiss of me to not take this into account". Virginia thought on what he meant. How much did he know? Was he just guessing, bluffing? Or did he in fact know something of what it was that was growing ever quicker, day by day, inside her? She knew he wouldn't answer, so she refused to ask.
"So, what will you do?" Virginia she asked instead, though it irked her to remind herself of his control over her. Despite his early warning, she had indeed attempted an escape. It had been both frightening and humiliating just how easily he had recaptured her. Both her arms sported bruises from his merciless grip, although she had been unharmed otherwise. As from the beginning, he was typically polite and softly spoken, even if he never seemed to hear her pleas, threats or curses.
The shadows were growing longer as the day ended. Soon, they would have to seek shelter for the night. Yacobe had been incredibly efficient in digging out a new snow cave every night, for which Virginia was grateful not only for the relative comfort, but also for keeping out of the moons rays. She had not discussed with her captor the unusual reaction she'd been having from the moon, and once again she wondered if he knew anything about it. He had been there when it first happened, but did he guess that it still continued? Thankfully he had given her an enormous thick cloak which not only protected her from the intense cold, but from the moon itself in those few times it broke through the cloud cover.
"I need to rest" she said bluntly, meeting his cool blue gaze. Yacobe merely nodded, as though she was the one in charge of their little mission. Within a few minutes he had all but disappeared into the newly formed snow cave, only his feet and tail tip visible. Whilst she waited, Virginia took some time in studying the landscape. It was all depressingly the same. There were no obvious landmarks, no mountains or settlements that might have given an indication of where they were. With no paths or roads of any kind, she might well have been in the middle of literal nowhere.
Virginia slouched at the base of a tree, easing the ache in her back and legs a little. She wondered vaguely what Yacobe would do if she simply sat down and refused to move another inch. Probably carry her, slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Baby or no baby, it would be an uncomfortable ride. She fell to thinking about Wolf. Far away to the west he probably was right now. Her trail would be months old before he returned to take it up, most likely. Wendell would have sent out hunting parties for her, she reasoned, but surely they would have closed in on them by now. Yacobe was an excellent woodsman, walking well behind his captive to ensure not a twig or thread showed to lead others up their trail. She shivered with cold and underlying desperation.
"Are you cold, Virginia?" It was Yacobe, brushing down his clothes with quick movements.
"I'm tired. And sad, and frightened and angry. And yes, it's making me cold" Virginia retorted, pushing past him to enter the scraped out cave in which a small fire was already kindled. Later, when Yacobe had returned with two scrawny rabbits and was busy spitting them over the coals, he watched her under his lashes like she was a thing he'd not ever seen before. "What?" Virginia exploded, tired of the scrutiny.
"Sad and angry I can understand. Tired is only natural. But you don't need to be fearful, Virginia" he said finally.
"No? You're dragging me to my death at the hands of some half-crazed ice witch, and god's know what she'll do to my child, and I shouldn't be scared of that?"
"Death comes to us all, Virginia" he began, with something like puzzlement and wry amusement on his face. Virginia wanted to scratch his eyes out suddenly, so calm and yet so threatening he was. "But you assume too much, a fault common amongst your people. It has never been my intention to hand you over to my Queen".
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Wendell cleared his throat uneasily in the gloom. His mood of adventure and sudden heroism had failed dismally. He wondered why he'd come here, to all places. Here where his families ancient enemy still held sway over the shadows and the muck. Boots squelched behind him. Tony was muttering under his breath.
"Can't believe I've ended up in here again" he was saying. Wendell though he'd caught the older man humming an odd sounding tune as they'd tramped through the swamp. Wendell himself had heard no music other than the furious beating of his own heart.
The falling down cottage was just as Virginia had described it. Wendell had had no trouble at all finding it in amid the dreary trees and frozen over bogs. After all, it's exact location had been marked with a large red X on a map in his study that had hung there since his father's day. Under the X was a boldly written admonishment, "Don't Go Here". Wendell tried to picture if the swamp witch had a similar map posted anywhere in her grimy residence. It probably had a red target on it, with an arrow pointing to it's centre. "Aim Here". Well, she had struck close to the heart of many of Castle White's inhabitants, his own the most recent and the worst. His parents had died at her bequest. And yet even when he had learned of the truth, still he had been afraid to come here to exact the revenge he so sorely wanted.
I'm a coward. No wonder Scarlett has gone. It was only inevitable that she would see through the facade and discover the wretched boy that I am underneath.
"Are we going stand here freezin' our butts off all day?" Tony grumbled. "If this goddam witch knows where Virginia is, then lets go down there and ask her. Real friendly like" he continued, looking anything but. Watching his friends' face crumple at the mere mention of his daughter's name gave Wendell a sudden spurt of confidence.
"I hope I can be as good a father to my children, Tony, as you have been to Virginia" he said softly. A random image of Scarlett bending over a sleeping infant wafted through his mind. In his thoughts, she turned to smile at him, a radiant thing that miraculously banished all doubts from his mind. Come and meet our daughter, my love.
The rotted door gave way under their combined pushing. Wendell noted that someone had wedged the thing shut with splinters of old wood and stone, and he suspected Wolf had done it. He recalled hearing Wolf and Virginia discussing whether or not to destroy the place and it's inhabitant. Virginia had been most insistent to the contrary. Wendell wondered if she'd had some insight into the forthcoming events, or perhaps there was some other reason. She had never fully disclosed what had been said between her and the witch. Hera. That was one thing Wendell had learned. The crone's name was Hera.
The steps down to the basement were slimy, and so was the cold handrail when he went to grip it awkwardly. At the bottom he was suprised when he was able to step into the room with barely a hesitation. But then Tony was blundering down right on his heels, so he'd had little choice. Along the length of the floor in the centre of the room was the tomb itself. Green marsh light illuminated the room. Soft dripping and gurgling were the only noises. All around the edges of the room, tucked in corners and propped up by stone pillars were mirrors. Wendell was faintly amazed at how many there were. The ones Christine had procured from her predecessor were obviously only a small part of the entire collection. Or maybe they were the only ones that still worked.
"Prince Wendell". The voice was a woman's. Old, cunning, fearsome tones reverberated through the room.
"It's King Wendell to you" Tony answered shortly. Wendell turned to see him standing over the open tomb, looking in with an obvious disgust on his face. Wendell wanted to pull him away. Couldn't the man see how dangerous she still was? Tony sidled to one side, giving Wendell full view of what lay in the stone coffin. It was a corpse exactly as Virginia had described it. A dead thing with eyes and mind alive within it. Wendell shuddered in revulsion. How she must hate me now. All her hatred for my family, look where it has gotten her. His sense of justice flared within him strongly. He stepped boldly up to the coffin.
"Oh yes, dearest Hera, it is King Wendell White. You have in your keeping something I want. And let me assure you, there will be no poison apples to bargain with, not this time"
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The ice hurt her now. Crushing even the toughest, most hardiest creature ever devised in the world. The silver fish, frozen as if leaping a waterfall, had all but disintergrated under the onslaught. Only a few scales glittering in the darkness remained. But she did not worry over much about the water spirit that it had housed. It was far older than she, and far more adaptable.
The sharpness had almost pierced her outer skin now. Right under her breast, she could feel that which had now passed out of her sight. It made her laugh with irony, to think that even here, buried and half-asleep under the ice in the remotest reaches of the world, still the arrows flew, true and strong.
In her dreams, the sky was soft and warm. Far away, encased in his own prison, her lover waited. In her dreams, he spoke in the ancient language of fire...come, rise up and fly once more!
'Oh my love', she thought, tasting bitter ice on her tongue, 'if only I could'.