Rifts in the Ice: A Lion King Story

Chapter Eight

Simba burst forth from the fallen snow mound, coughing and yacking his throat clear. His head spun every which way and his whole body ached. Taking a moment to catch his breath and collect himself, the cub looked up in the direction he fell. The looming canyon climbed like a frozen tidal wave, chilling Simba's veins constricted. Its surface gap yawned weak cones of light, and the poor cub realized there was no way he was scaling out of here.

Lying down, Simba rubbed his bruised joints. The canyon's jagged path snaked deeper into the earth, a maw of darkness swallowing all courage. The wind bellowed haunted echoes around every sharp corner, and a deep, sweaty panic struck Simba anxious. What was he supposed to do now? Traverse this foreboding maze? What if no exit lay in wait? Or worse, what if a predator used this gully as a home? Simba could be walking straight into a trap, straight to his death, and though he remained pleasantly perplexed over surviving his earlier fall, he wasn't about to tempt fate twice.

Water dripped to the icy floor. Traces of loose snow clumped itself on ledges, and Simba made out his reflection in the walls. The image was cracked, rifts coursing thin currents through the ice, and if Simba were to toss but a pebble against this mirror's base, the whole thing would fall apart. Just like how Simba felt he might break down at any moment.

The wind picked up again, carrying with it a strange, new resonance that startled the young cub. Reading the sound as an approaching threat, Simba quickly padded in the opposite direction, treading the path curving upward. No matter where it led, Simba figured it was better than whatever was approaching. The menacing sounds grew louder.

Simba willed his tender body forward, slicing his legs faster through the air. He cut icy corners, and leapt over blockades of snow, but no matter how fast he ran, the sound continued to gain. A rough collection of hisses, growls, and clawing, the echo's source would soon be upon the poor cub, and Simba knew he was in no condition to fight.

Spotting a crevasse in the ice to his left, Simba dove into its shelter, squeezing himself hidden. The sound reached its loudest point, quivering the earth, and Simba blinked as its emitter came into view.

The creature was bulky and armored in shells. It scurried about on six legs and clicked a large pair of pincers at its front. Dozens of beady eyes gleamed above its miniscule mouth, and an imposing stinger flicked about on a long, curving tail. Simba swallowed. This creature was essentially a giant scorpion, and if it was anything like its smaller cousins back home in the Pridelands, Simba assumed it to be aggressive.

The monster of an insect stopped beside the crevasse, its tiny hairs flickering. It's tail gently swished about, and the pale creature clipped its pincers every now and then.

I know you're here, crawled a voice, no doubt belonging to this beast. Its pitch was thin, sickly, and almost desperate for something.

Let me see you…

Simba didn't move.

Let me approach you…

The cub held his breath.

Let me…. The insect abruptly turned and rammed a pincer into Simba's crevasse, crashing down shards of ice. Let me rip you!

Simba screamed and jolted back. His eyes darted about, looking for any chance to get by this thing. But the scorpion rammed its vicious claw back into the opening, crashing off more layers of ice. With each blow, it would soon widen the gap large enough to grab the helpless cub.

Simba inched his way to the gasping sides, primed himself for a sprint after the next claw jab receded. But before he could dash, the scorpion's stinger lurched forward, jabbing its venomous barb into the ground.

Stay where you are, the voice came again. You're mine!

Simba backed away, hot tears flooding his eyes. One more claw stab, and the vile monster would reach him. This was really it. But then, in a furry of brown fur and limbs, a new creature landed on the scorpion's back, surprising both the cub and the oversized bug. With a swift stroke, it took hold of the scorpion's stinger and jabbed the sharp projectile straight into the monster's head. A large gush of liquid spewed out. Sticky and green, it plastered the icy walls with a disgusting reek. The scorpion discharged a horrible scream, its pain rippling out in droves. Then, it sunk down, twitching its every limb until not a single body part stirred at all. Simba took a long, hard look at his savior, the last thing he expected to see.

"Yavick…" he whispered. The Yeti offered the cub a hand.

"I think you and I need to have a heart – to – heart." His expression was serious, more solemn than any of his previous emotions. But Simba sat still, unsure of what to do. New noises surfaced from within the canyon.

"I warn you," Yavick continued, still holding out his hand, "there are fouler things than this in the deep places of this land."

With the shock of everything happening so quick, Simba gave into the Yeti's reasoning. He placed his paw in Yavick's grip, confident it was the only sensible thing left to do.

The pair shot up towards the sky, colliding with a cloud that sent Simba reeling into a new cave. While Yavick landed gracefully, the poor cub sprawled onto the floor, his whole world spinning. Once this latest dizzy spell phased out, the cub sat on his hind legs and rubbed his head.

"I hate your way of traveling, you know that?"

Yavick huffed. "It could've been avoided if you'd have given yourself up to me sooner."

Simba looked around. "Where are we now?" He backed up. "And, and why did you save me?"

Yavick placed his hands behind his back. "You still have a debt to pay."

The cub stomped his forearms. "I'm not about to hurt the snow leopards, and I'm not stealing your stupid crystal! No way!"

Yavick stepped forward. "You and I made a deal! You'd have died in that desert had I not intervened! This is the second time I've saved your life!"

Simba barred his teeth. "If I knew you were going to hold something like this over my head, I would've told you to leave me there to die!"

An awkward silence passed between the two animals, both staring one another down. Yavick stood still, frowning at the cub. Simba's chest, meanwhile, heaved with anger, his claws extended.

"Judging by the sound of your breathing, and the way your mouth's twitching," Yavick said, "I can confidently say you're lying."

Simba touched his lips. Yavick was right. The weight of defeat sunk the prince's shoulders, reduced his frustration. He sat back down and cried. "Why? Why do you want me to hurt the snow leopards? They've been so nice to me."

Yavick raised some fingers. "Two," he said. "Two have been nice to you. You've yet to meet the whole gaggle."

"But why do you hate them so much? They've done nothing to you!"

Yavick raised an eyebrow. "Nothing?" He snickered and stepped toward a tunnel leading deeper into the cave. "Before you can shape the future, you must first possess the past. There's something I must show you, Simba. Something I should've shown you much sooner" Yavick motioned for the cub to follow. "Please don't make me ask twice."

Simba wiped his eyes dry and followed.

The two came to a room bathed in blue light. Along the walls, several makeshift images, cave drawings, emitted warm glows. Their aura's were soothing.

"Whoa," the cub muttered, losing himself to awe. "What is this place?"

He recognized several chalky landmarks as fields and forests, canyons and mountains. Several clusters of animal drawings pranced and prowled about, one giant map of the living land. They reminded Simba of star constellations or those glowing northern lights Karina showed him days ago.

"This is where I keep my kind's story, preserving our history. One of my more important tasks."

"How come?" Simba asked.

"There are those who believe if you lose your narrative, you lose your identify. But I keep such records so that I might retain my purpose. Here, I am preserved in a way." Yavick picked up a piece of chalk and traced some finer details on a later scene. After refining his etchings, the new drawing displayed the same, soothing glow as the others. Simba recognized the image as a lion cub, flanked by two snow leopards. One of them his size.

"That's me," the cub said.

"Quiet observant," Yavick replied. There was no sarcasm in his voice. He faced the young prince, motioning him forward. He then drew his palm over a select set of drawings.

"But tell me, young one. What do you see here?"

Simba scoffed, his patience running low.

"Take your time," Yavick reassured. "Let the story speak to you."

Simba rolled his eyes but examined the etchings. The animal clusters were organized into their respective groups, a congregation of herded species. From their distinctive features, the cub made out the males from the females, adults from the children. They played, they hunted, they all lived in a natural harmony. But as Simba trailed his eyes along the story's progression, things took a turn. One group of animals, the bipedal ones, no doubt the Yetis, grew in number. And as they grew, the expressions on the other animals (the goats, the birds, the bears, and the snow leopards) changed. They became distant, hostile even. But the Yeti continued to grow, continued to spread.

Very soon, the cave drawings depicted the Yeti fighting with everyone and everything. The battles were bloody, the casualties many, and soon the snow leopards were depicted talking, almost pleading, to a single bear, large and scarred.

"Radimir…" Simba whispered, losing some breath.

The bear then presided over a large pit, flames engulfing its bowls. Around the perimeter bloomed clots of smoke, and within the pit's center, a large gathering of Yeti stood, wreathed in the fire. Their mouths hung open, screaming and cursing, as their flesh peeled away from their charred bones.

Simba gasped. These Yeti were all female. Then, he leaked fresh tears as he realized they weren't just grown-up girls. They were also mothers, cradling infants. Their babies likewise cried for a relief that never came.

Yavick kneeled beside Simba and placed a paw on the cub's back. "If you knew your days as an endling, the last of your species, were beginning, how would you spend them?"

Simba didn't speak.

"Would you seek revenge on those who eclipsed your bright future? Turning tomorrow's prospects to ash? Or would you hasten your own demise? Relieve your suffering?"

Before the cub could even swallow, Yavick directed his gaze towards a new drawing. In it, a stampede of sorrowful Yeti, the leftover males, sprinted towards a cliff. Upon reaching the edge's tip, every single one threw themselves off, falling to their deaths. Simba grimaced and turned away.

"My fellow endlings chose the latter."

"No…" Simba whispered. "No, I don't believe it."

The cub then looked at the following drawing. A single Yeti was drawn kneeling amongst the bones, utterly alone. The images then depicted said survivor breaking the skeletons in pieces, cutting his palms bloody. Holding up his wounded fists, now enveloped in a green aura, the Yeti howled across the land, voicing his thirst for vengeance. And on his limbs manifested several small, silver bells, all bound together and ringing.

"You?" Simba asked.

Yavick nodded.

"But…this was so long ago. During Karina's ancestors' lifetimes. Does that mean you're-"

The Yeti shook his head. "I'm not immortal, no. One day, I shall pass as the last endling of my species, but until then, I have much work to do."

Simba blinked. "But Radimir was around then…how old are you guys?"

"We're both ancient, several hundred years old, going on a thousand." Yavick rose. "It's not natural for either of us to have lived this long. But we both have our magic, and its served us well."

"Then, if you're an endling, what are those white Yeti who're always with you?"

"Reanimated corpses." Yavick motioned his hands in various gestures before ringing a bell. A mound of white grew upon the floor and out climbed a fully grown, white Yeti. It growled at Simba, jolting the cub back. Empty, black sockets took the place of its eyes, but it remained stationary. "Husks without a soul, churning pure hatred. They remember the trespasses inflicted on them."

Yavick rang his bell again, and the Yeti broke apart into ice flurries. Simba looked to his side. He felt utterly ripped, completely indecisive.

"I don't want to hurt the snow leopards," the cub said. "If you always wanted me to harm them, why did you leave me with Nia and Karina when I first arrived?"

Yavick walked to a barren cave wall. He slammed his fist on its bulk, and the stone barrier began to move. Sliding clear to the side, an exit took shape, greeting Simba with the outside wilderness. The sun was starting to set behind the mountains. Wind spurts flaked snow off the trees, and several squirrels darted hither and tither along a path.

"It was necessary to establish trust between you, the leopards, and Radimir." Yavick stood by the exit. "Otherwise, stealing that crystal would've been nearly impossible; Radimir never would've given you those warm berries nor would he have allowed you to approach his cave."

Simba sighed. That made sense.

"When I first made my demands, I had hoped offering you the knowledge of your father's true fate would be enough motivation, but not all roads lead to compliance, and I can see you still need more convincing." Yavick pointed at the wilderness. "Therefore, I will allow you to return to your adopted family. They're on their way to a vstrecha, are they not?" Before Simba could answer, Yavick raised a hand. "Don't answer that. I'm fully aware it's the correct destination."

The cub made a face. Was it really this simple? Yavick was really just going let him go?

"Stick to this path and you will find your snow leopard comrades. My Yeti will not interfere."

"Why are you doing this?"

Yavick clucked his tongue. "After all I've shown you today, you're still asking such a question?"

"No, no, I mean, why let me go back to them?"

Yavick formed a new pyramid with his hands. "It is my belief you will come to see the snow leopards in the same light as me." He walked close and brushed Simba's tuft. "Consider this my one and only warning: they're not the peaceful sorts you think they are. Once they have revealed their true intentions, return to me with Radimir's crystal. And I will uphold my end of the deal concerning your father."

With a slight push, Yavick sent Simba walking. The cub padded a few steps along the path before hearing Yavick calling out his name. Turning, Simba's blood constricted cold again as he watched the ancient creature reform his venomous smile from their previous encounters.

"Remember, young one," Yavick said as the stone wall closed before him. "I will not ask again."

The menacing Yeti disappeared behind the stone, and Simba remained still for a hard moment. Sighing, he finally found the strength to lift his feet and follow the path. The evening sky dipped itself in a purple hue, and the crescent moon was coming out of its sunny slumber, smiling down upon the cub. Simba watched it as he walked, pretending it was one of his father's comforting expressions.

"Dad," Simba whispered, sniffling. "What would you do?" He padded his way up a hill, spotting a group of elk running through distant fields. A snow leopard chased after them. "What should I do?"