Chapter 1:
Skye
FREEZING, as any Skye would tell you, was a natural part of Skye life. Whether it was freezing the skin on the tip of their noses or the meat from the beast they just hunted, freezing was the most natural thing in the world to them. The residents who took solace and protection under the Skye family could each tell you that they weren't sure whether it was the snow, the ice, or the wind that was colder. Frost dragons, many of the residents would say in explanation. Their humble homes were established on the northern coast of Bear Island and on the outskirts of the Frozen Shore. Unlike the other inhabitants of the Northern Shore, and apart from the Mormonts on the south and east of Bear Island, the Skye livers had a fine balance of savage and order. They were brutal people with quick tempers and great strength, but they had a social order.
There was the leader, the two "hands," the seven Fangs, and all the other tribesmen. In this particular case, the leader of House Skye was a female. A young woman, at that. Having just met her nineteenth name day, the woman had been leading the House Skye for eight years. Her parents were slaughtered at age ten, and her aunt Amelya had led the tribe for a year as her niece slowly got used to the position and its duties. Now, Desaerne Skye was the unquestioned leader of the clan.
Desaerne was known to her people as a leader who took charge with a strong and steady hand. She made quick decisions for the greater good, and she seldom let her temper flare. More often than not, Des would cut the throat of a person who insulted her without looking away from her meal. In an argument, her voice never raised above speaking level. Her face held the same deadpan, blank stare at had driven her parents mad. She perpetually looked like something was pestering her, giving the accurate impression that she wanted to be not bothered. The orders that left Des' mouth were followed through with to the letter. Nobody dared question her authority, not since she took the spot. The people of House Skye simply knew her as the Boss.
With the Boss came her two most trusted advisers: the Dagger and the Blade. The Dagger always stood to Des' left, just as the Blade stood to her right. Both were as feared and respected as she.
The Dagger was a girl with the build of a twig. She was a scrawny thing, found in the North by Desaerne the year after her parents' death. She looked as if she had just reached her fifth name day. She was feral, feeding on small, raw animals. Desaerne took her in, the child six years her youth, and raised her to the proper young lady she was today. That is, when she was not tearing out the throats of her victims. She did not have a name, and, if she did, the Dagger did not remember it. Amelya and Des decided to name her Elisa. The Dagger was skinny, but she was agile and fit. She preferred to use, as her name would suggest, daggers, but she could use any small, sharp object as a weapon. One of the rumours was that she had murdered a man at age eight with a small rock. She would make no comment on it but to smile. She was very deadly even though her appearance spoke otherwise. She talked all the time, usually about craziness that drove everyone mad. Her girly giggle made her seem all the more bonkers, especially considering she stood four and a half feet tall with her hair in pigtails. Elisa could usually be found draped in black skins with white furs, her countless weapons hidden within its folds. Her fondness for all things pale might have to do with the fact her porcelain skin was as white as the furs, her hair as black as the skins, and her eyes as red as the blood she was so fond of bathing in. She didn't like deviating from those three spectra.
The Blade was a different story. He didn't talk much to anyone aside from his two companions, but when he did, one had better listen up. The man towered over his two female companions, just shy of six and a half feet tall. Nobody knew for sure how old the Blade was, but he looked to be around his thirtieth name day. His real name was known to only the Dagger and the Boss: Preston. Even so, he was solid muscle with very little room for extra body fat. His eyes, unlike his red eyed counterpart, were a shining blue. He was often said to be soulless, as his eyes held no warmth in their pools. But he was always impeccably dressed in dark grey clothing that fit him perfectly. A dark grey fur cloak rested heavily on his shoulders, streaked through with silver and white. His hat matched it perfectly, covering his short black hair that he always cut short with one of the blades hidden on his person. There was a large axe that hung on his belt, and he looked like a man who could chop down trees in one swing. There was a perpetual stubble on his chin. He was the enforcer of the two "hands" of the Boss. While the Dagger specialised in quick or brutal deaths without a second thought, the Blade was known for his torturing skills. He was the one that settled disputes, usually with both parties dead.
These were the two people most trusted by the Boss. They carried out what she wanted done, though they were also very independent and did what they wanted. They enforced her rules upon the seven Fangs, who in turn enforced them upon their dozen tribesmen.
The Boss herself was feared by her people, though they all held a great respect for her. Before her family, the people in that area lived as pure savages. Some were cannibals. Most were uncivil. But, through the generations, the people who now compose House Skye became some of the most ruthless killers. The Boss was the most elite of them all. She had spent the past eight years running the clan, and having started independently at age eleven, she had needed to grow up much sooner than any of the other children. Her ability to lead was lost to none. Des only stood around five feet and seven inches tall, but she stood lean and fit. Her eyes were an almost glowing green with blue flecks, as was the usual for the Skye family. Her hair was a stark black, straight as nails. Des had was consistently wearing a long, pure black fur coat. Her nose and cheeks were brushed with freckles. Her smile was seen, but it was not always a good thing. For instance, at this moment, she was smiling, and it was not a good thing at all.
"Aww, Dessy! What's wrong, Boss?" Elisa asked Desaerne with a pout on her lips. Elisa rolled over from her back to her stomach, laying on the floor in Des' office. The Boss sat at her desk with her hands clasped on the large desk, a smile on her lips as she read the letter that had just been delivered to her. She was sat at her desk in her usual black garb, her cloak draped over the back of the high chair. Elisa had donned a cute, little, white dress that only the children of summer would choose. The season had turned when Desaerne reached her ninth name day. Until that point, she knew nothing but that harsh living of winter. But the last decade had been the bliss of summer. The Blade often called Elisa his "sweet, summer child." The girl was merely thirteen, and she acted very childishly, but every Skye member knew just how psychotic the little girl was. The Blade was sat in a chair just off to the right of her desk. He was cleaning his fingernails with a knife.
"I have received a letter," Des said softly. Her voice was as quiet as it always was.
"Yeah, no shit," Elisa replied with a giggle, continuing to roll every which way.
"Watch your language," Des snapped at the young girl who quickly smiled apologetically at her Boss. "I have received a letter," she continued, "from our friends at the Ransyter Fortress. They are in need of more pelts and northern meat."
"Northern meat," the Blade spat in humour. "They don't hear us asking for 'Summer meat' or 'eastern meat' or any of that nonsense. Warm-climate bitches." His chuckle was light but deep in pitch.
"Now, now, grandfather. No need to get all defensive. Now, we're going on a hunt. Not only to get resources for ourselves but for our allies," Des said. She looked at the two, eyes slightly narrowed, daring them to question her. Elisa sat up and slowly raised a hand. "Yes?"
"Why exactly are we allies with the Ransyter family?" the Dagger asked innocently. A smirk crossed the Boss's lips before she looked at her left hand girl.
"That is for me to know and for you to speculate on," she said. Standing up, the other two rose as well, pulling their cloaks on properly. "Gather the Fangs," she ordered as they walked out of her office. She went straight down the hall as the Dagger and the Blade both turned in their respective directions.
The woman walked with absolute power in her step, her coat sweeping the floor. The only colour the woman wore were the flawed emeralds of her eyes. The expression on her face was pure business. Somewhere in the distance, she heard a horn blown. There was a ghost of a smile on her lips at the beautiful noise as her footsteps led her to her room. Her room was no bigger and no smaller than the other rooms in the fortress. She had given herself no extra privileges, though the people treated her differently from time to time. Her family bow was polished and hung on the wall above her bed. It was a beautiful, black oak bow with the tightest, silver string. When she plucked the string, it hummed a perfect pitch. Slipping her black quiver over her shoulder, Des pulled her hood over her head and took her confident strides out to the courtyard. There were people running everywhere.
"Dagger, you stay here today," she said pointing to the girl. The look of disappointment formed a pout over her lips, but Elisa knew better than to argue. "Blade, on my right, of course. Fangs, in line." Her soft voice spoke loudly, but it kept the cold, quiet edge. The seven people she had in charge of her townsfolk had very specific reasons for being in charge. However, there were only five of them there.
Danson Mayhew was her first and most loyal Fang. She had appointed him to the spot the day she became Lady Skye. He was a tall, thin man who specialised in swordsmanship. He taught them to the Skye dwellers who chose to stay with him.
Rory and Gina Lawly were number two and three. Rory was a lumberman. He could create anything from wood, wood that he took from a tree that he chopped down himself. Arrows, bows, canoes, houses, all of these things he could make. Gina was a farmer, a gatherer. Their fresh produce came from her and her dwellers. Those who chose to be with the Skye's Lawlys were living on the north side of Bear Island.
Hana Creek, a distant, bastard cousin of Desaerne's, as her number four. She specialised in herbs and healing. She and her villagers split their time between Bear Island and the Frozen Shore.
Timote Creek, Hana's brother, was a fisherman. He could catch any water creature that he set his heart on, and even if he didn't, he would lose limbs trying. His wooden foot spoke that truth.
Benji Drafish was the stonemason of the clan. He and his could forge anything from metal. That was where they got their weapons and their traps.
Andre Drafish was the final Fang, the newest one. He was still figuring out exactly how to run his villagers, but he was in charge of security. His group was the largest and most widely spread of the seven. They patrolled the boarders and secured each of the villages individually.
Each of the Fangs were in charge of, minimally, a dozen people. The people could choose which Fang to move onto, depending on the specialty. Many of the people were drafted into Andre's group, though, because they were in need of protection. Not only that, but it was in their nature to want to fight, to want the thrill of a kill. After all, all of them were killers, came from killer blood. But they respected her orders and her law.
"Mayhew, Creek, and Drafish. Mount up," she said and nodded to the four. Her own village, full of people, were a good mix of all of the categories, but they were hunters. Hunting was what House Skye was best at. The people in charge of taking care of the horses led out the six stallions. Desaerne's, of course, was all black. The six mounted up, Des pointing out three of the villagers to mount up with a cart. They took off into the woods at full speed, a full smile breaking her lips.
The celebration that night was long and loud. Word had been sent to the Lawly couple. They had pulled their villagers and quickly crossed the portion of the Bay that rested between the two shores. They always celebrated after a hunt. It was always plentiful, and, even if it wasn't a good hunt, it was a hunt nonetheless. Desaerne sat at the head of her table eating and drinking her mead, watching the events around her unfold. Elisa was off in the crowd with a large group surrounding her, laughing and telling tales as they all drank and had fun. She was merely thirteen, but she deserved a drink, and she held her alcohol well. Blade was sat to the right of Des, her table filled with silent men, and a few women, who would occasionally talk in a low voice. At that moment, there was a soft discussion about proper hunting technique going on at the table. Blade said nothing as the chatter went on, as neither did his Boss.
"Welcome," she spoke softly as she stood up. It took a moment, but all the noise in the main hall died down as they all turned to look at her. "Welcome to the first celebration of the month," she said and raised her glass. They all cheered and toasted, taking a drink. When the noise stopped, the continued. "We will be meeting back here in two week's time for the next hunt. The Blade and the Dagger will both be joining me. In our place, Danson Matthew, Gina Lawly, and Andre Drafish will be ensuring the safety of the Fortress in the Skye. Joining us on the hunt will be Rory Lawly, the Creek cousins, and Benji Drafish. They will choose three from their villages to join us. The Hands will choose three from the three sectors whose leaders will remain here. I will be choosing three from the main sector. Should any of you have questions, you are to direct them to the Dagger." She pointed to the girl who cheered and took a drink. They all, in turn, toasted and drank. After the noise stopped again, Des, with a small smile, finished up. "The celebration will last through the three days. Then the fourteen moon count will begin. Do not be late. That is all." They cheered and the music started up again, she sitting down to continue her meal.
"You did not approve of my choices?" She asked without looking up. The Blade was staring at her. "You saw how uneasy Andre felt. It would be best for him to stay and watch the keep." The Blade did not look away. "I know what you want, Blade, but I will not allow him on the next hunt with us." His head tilted slightly, and she sighed, looking up to meet his gaze, "I have a feeling about this one."
"Perhaps you should talk about it," he spoke. His voice was deep, soft with the hard edge of a blade. It was a voice that was rarely heard to others, but spoken often to the Boss and the Dagger.
"If you would like to discuss it further, you can come talk with me later," she said simply, returning to her meal.
A fight broke out on the other side of the room, causing her to look up at the causation. It was just a drunken rumble, so she let it continue. Blade looked away and finished off his drink, glancing at the fight in amusement. As the fight escalated, so did the noise. A deep breath was inhaled by her before she stood up, flicking her wrist. The noise stopped as a man let out a scream. Impaled into his arm was a fork, the tines embedded to the base.
"That is enough," she said, her voice echoing. They all broke apart. It took a few minutes, but the party started up again. Only when the laughter and music started did she sit back down. "Shut it," she whispered to the Blade who had smirked at her. Her own smile was barely concealed as she looked at the man and back at her patrons.
"Will you discuss it now?" the Blade asked his lovely Boss. He had an arm curled over her waist, and he pulled her closer in the cold. She reached down to pull their blanket to over her shoulders, just under her chin, which was to his chest. Cuddling against him with her head on his chest, the Boss lay on her side with a hand on his chest.
"Discuss what?" She asked with her voice muffled as she placed a gentle kiss on his chest. She looked up at the man with half closed eyes. It had been nearly four years that they had shared the same bed.
"You know what, Des," he replied, looking at her. She didn't say anything, just gave him a fake look of confusion, and he growled, snapping, "what the feeling about this next hunt is." He loved the girl, this was a fact well known to all, but he could not stand how stubborn she was. Perhaps the Skye motto should be Stubborn as Rocks. Suits the lot much better, he thought to himself.
"I feel like something bad might happen... I'm not sure if it will happen when we are on the hunt or to one left behind," she said softly. A deep inhale pressed her breasts against his side, but her exhale was as weary as her eyes turned. "Remember last time I ignored the feeling?" she whispered in the dark. The Blade stayed silent, running his fingers through her hair. "Do you remember?" she asked again after a moment of silence.
"Yes, I do. But it won't happen again, Des. You can't blame yourself for what happe-" The Blade was cut off as she shot up to sit and look at him, disbelief on her face.
"How can you say that?! Frenklin was murdered! He was supposed to be safe! He trusted me with his life, and I got him killed!" She spat in anger. He sat up slowly, a sigh escaping him. They had had this discussion many times over.
"Desaerne, Frenklin knew the dangers of the hunt, and he also knew the rules. Rules that he broke. He was supposed to stay with the group, but he wandered and got murdered by wildlings," the Blade said, grabbing her shoulders to look her in the eye.
"He was under my watch, Blade!" She insisted, her voice breaking.
"He broke the rules of your watch," he replied.
"He was one of my men!"
"He picked a fight with the wrong guy-"
"Preston! I can not let another one of my people die again!" She snapped, finally breaking down. Her tears ran freely, and her sobs echoed in the room. The Blade's heart ached, throbbed for the girl. When she was leading, she was a strong woman. When they talked in bed, she was a fragile girl. And he loved her all the more for it. Pulling her tightly against him, he held her head to his chest as she sobbed, her nails digging into his back in agony. She had lost seven people since her last name day, and, considering it was a small community, that made all the difference. Everybody knew everybody in her House. It had been a great loss to everyone; the last seven deaths and every death before. After a while of comforting her, holding her, and stroking her hair, she calmed down. Her body shook now and then with a stray sob, but she was silent otherwise, tears still streaming.
"Desaerne Skye, if there is anyone on this side of the world that anyone should trust with their life, it is you," Preston whispered to her. "You are one of the most trusted women in the Frozen Shore area. You will be fine. Everyone in your House will be fine. You will lead us just as well as you have these last years, and I will make sure you stay that way. Got it? Good," he said without her reply. It made her chuckle, and a smile broke across his face. "See? You're going to be fine. So long as you have an oaf on your arm to protect you, you'll be fine."
She looked up at him with watery eyes, and he smiled at her, wiping the tears from her face. She smiled, not the broad smile that she had when she laughed. It was not the smile that she gave in politeness to a compliment or an elder. It was not the smile she gave when she heard something that made her pleased. It was the smile that she had only for him, the kind that spoke pure love, the kind that said she felt only completely secure with him. She smiled and raised a hand cup his gaunt cheek, running her thumb over his cheek bone. She focused her green glass eyes into his blue stare. While others saw ice, she saw peace. "I love you, my darling Blade," she whispered.
"And I love you, you crazy fucking bitch," he whispered back with a smirk. She burst into laughter and slapped him. He grabbed her arm with a chuckle and kissed her deeply, the two tangling back into a laughing mess.
"You've been with that boy again, haven't you," Amelya Skye reprimanded her niece. Desaerne laughed as she cooked the meal, nodding. "I wish you would just settle down with a nice man and pop out a few little ones. Maybe a nice Warde or a good Ransyter. Hell, even a Carvell at this point."
"Auntie," Des warned in a joking manner. Her aunt had raised her since before her parent's death. Amelya looked exactly like Desaerne, had the love for torture like the Blade, but had the humour and social skills of Elisa. Her graying hair was pulled up into a bun, her own emerald eyes shining with knowledge. She was much older than the Blade, but she acted like a child. The woman stood just taller than Elisa, who was like her own daughter. "You like the Blade, and you know it," she said.
"Of course I like him. He's quiet, he's buff, and he's obviously killer in bed if you're still with him," Amelya said, wiggling her eyebrows at her young niece.
"Auntie!" Des gasped with a laugh. "Auntie Amelya, you know you adore my Blade. Don't pretend that you can't stand him. And he's not a boy," she added.
"Enough of that boy," Amelya said, waving her hand dismissively. "What is this that our dear Blade tells me about your odd feeling of the hunt?"
"That little, fucking bi-" Des muttered to herself before cutting herself off. "Auntie, it is of no worry. I promise. It is but a feeling. Everything will be okay. You do not need to worry yourself over my silly little feelings."
The look on the older woman's face said it all. "You're shit at lying," Amelya said simply. She spoke over her niece's sigh, "Now, we will discuss this further once you have..." the woman trailed off, though she couldn't figure out why. She gripped her head. The aunt's silence drove the Boss to look up at her. "Once you have..." Amelya tried again.
"Auntie?" Desaerne asked as she stepped toward the woman.
"Have finished..." Amelya gasped as her vision swam. Why were there two Desaerne's?
"Preston! Elisa!" Des screamed, quickly maneuvering around objects to reach her aunt. The door burst open as Amelya was gasped for breath, the Dagger and the Blade bursting through.
"Finished... Dinner..." Amelya trailed off. Her vision flashed to black as she collapsed to the ground.
"Amelya!" came the shout, but her mind was already closing out the world.