Myth and Storm, page 11
Mara
I miss the wind whipping through my hair. I miss the magic tickling the back of my mind as it draws my maps.
Mara sat across from Tham, sipping the tea that had appeared with their tray of food for the day.
Tham took his time, carefully portioning out their meals, saving the dried meat and cheese for later in the day, choosing bread and fruit for their breakfast. In all the time they’d been locked in their ice chamber, they’d never run out of food. Still, Tham rationed everything, and Mara knew enough about the dark and hunger-filled years of his life before he’d joined the Karron clan to not question his morning ritual.
When he finally began to eat, Mara let her ankle press against his. A flare of joy sparked in her chest as a hint of a smile lifted the corners of Tham’s eyes.
I miss discovering new places. I miss finding magic where none should exist.
She reached across the table, pouring Tham a second cup of tea. He caught her hand, kissing her fingers before letting go.
Such a simple thing. A quick touch. A tiny show of affection.
I miss knowing I’m a part of the Map Makers Guild. I miss helping to build the Guild’s legacy.
I’d trade it all to share breakfast with him every morning.
Mara touched the place on her arm where the sorcerer had marked her with the symbol of the Map Makers the day she’d been accepted into the Guild. She could feel the magic of the compass even through the fabric of her sleeve.
“Mara?” Tham said.
“When we get back to Ilara, I’m going to spend a day sitting by the Arion Sea.” Mara pressed her face into a smile. “Just watch the waves and smell the salt in the air. Will you sit with me?”
“If you want me to.”
“I always want you beside me.” Mara sipped her tea, trying to drown the growing knot in her throat.
“We could go north of the city.” Tham leaned toward her, offering his hand. “There are some beautiful places where no one will see us.”
“But what if―” A shimmer in the wall silenced Mara.
Tham sprang to his feet, looking to the place where their guard had appeared once before.
Mara palmed her fork, hiding it in the folds of her skirt as she stood.
The woman who’d woken Tham stepped out of the ice. She looked from Mara to Tham before smiling. The expression did not reach her sapphire eyes.
“It’s good to see you’ve both recovered so well.” The woman stepped farther into the room. “It takes some people a very long time to regain any sort of strength after the ice has filled them.”
“We’ve been well cared for,” Mara said.
“Of course,” the woman said. “I made sure of it.”
“What about the other two from our journey?” Mara cut around the table to stand beside Tham, keeping the fork hidden in her skirt. “Have they been living here, too?”
“No.” The woman walked toward the window, not looking at Tham or Mara, even as she passed within inches of them.
“Where are they?” Tham asked.
“One is still ill from the ice. He’s not fit to be in a room on his own. And the other”―the woman looked back to them, as though not wanting to miss their expression―“is not currently amenable to any arrangement that would allow him to be moved out of his cell.”
“He’s still in a cell?” Mara asked.
Tham gripped her wrist, keeping the hand that held her poor weapon hidden.
“He’s given me no choice,” the woman said. “The city of Isfol is our sanctuary. It is a place of peace. Having rumors flying on the breeze that an enemy is living within our safe haven? I’d rather have your compatriots’ blood on my hands than risk panic spreading amongst my people.”
“Are you the Regent?” Mara asked.
“My father is the Regent. I am a lowly princess who has yet to seize her rightful throne.” The Princess met Mara’s gaze. “Ilbrea is not the only kingdom that hobbles its women.”
“That’s a pity to hear, Your Highness.” Mara curtsied. “I’m sorry we were never properly introduced when you visited my cell.”
“I didn’t introduce myself to your dogs, whom I so graciously rescued, either,” the Princess said. “I fed them and put them in kennels where they would be properly taken care of.”
“I appreciate the comforts you’ve provided us,” Mara said, “and our dogs. But since I am capable of speech, I would like to know who I am speaking to.”
“Princess Ronya Kian of the Ice Walkers,” Ronya said. “Daughter of Regent Ture Kian. If you had any business being in the white mountains, both of our names would terrify you.”
“I’ve been told many things should terrify me,” Mara said. “They rarely do.”
“There are two sorts of people who lack fear in the face of monsters,” Ronya said. “Heroes and fools.”
“How clever,” Mara said.
Tham tightened his grip on Mara’s wrist as he shifted closer to her, placing his shoulder in front of hers.
Not every battle needs to be fought, a voice that sounded like Allora’s whispered in Mara’s mind.
“I would like to petition for our freedom and the freedom of the others in our party,” Mara said. “I’ll negotiate with you, if you like, or with the Regent, if I must.”
“Negotiate?” Ronya laughed. “What will you negotiate with? The sleds we’ve already taken? Will you offer to let me keep your dogs? You won’t make it back to Ilbrea without them.”
“If you want gold, the Guilds will pay for our safe return,” Tham said.
The Princess studied Tham, starting with his boots and working her way up. She gave a sly smile when she finally reached his face.
Mara tightened her grip on her fork.
“I have no taste for your Guilds’ gold, Ilbrean,” Ronya said. “My duty is to protect my people. And secrecy has long been our most valuable defense.”
“We won’t ask the Guilds for payment, then,” Mara said. “We can go straight to the Lord Map Maker. We lived as his wards, and Lord Karron’s discretion can be trusted.”
“I hope I am never foolish enough to rely on the discretion of someone vouched for by a stranger,” Ronya said.
“Tell us what our freedom will cost,” Tham said.
“I thought I had made that clear.” Ronya fixed her cold gaze on Mara. “I want to get to know you. I want to know all about you and Ilbrea. Such a fascinating country just south of our mountains. So many questions I’d like answered.”
A wave of ice ran up Mara’s back, as though frozen fingers trailed along her spine.
“I would be happy to tell you about Ilbrea,” Mara said, “as soon as we can see Elver and Kegan. I want to make sure they’ll be ready for the journey home.”
Ronya laughed and stepped closer to Mara.
Tham tensed, letting go of Mara’s wrist, reaching an arm in front of her as though preparing to block an attack.
“Silly Tham.” Ronya bent and kissed the back of his hand. “If I’d wanted to hurt Mara, I would have let her watch you slowly die as the ice destroyed your veins. I wish you no harm. In fact, I would like nothing better than to call you a friend. But, despite the kindness that fills my heart, I cannot risk the safety of my people by allowing strangers who have discovered our home to wander back into the outside world.”
“So you’ll keep us trapped?” Mara said. “Will you move us back to my cell, or will we be kept here?”
“That all depends on you.” Ronya let go of Tham’s hand and headed toward the door made of solid ice. “Come along.” She beckoned them over her shoulder. “Leave the cutlery behind. Any hint of you trying to arm yourselves, and I’ll have to let the ice take you.”
She laid her palm on the door but didn’t pass through the solid surface as she had before. The ice shifted under her touch, pushing open as though it were a normal, wooden door.
“Are you coming?” Ronya asked. “Or would you like me to leave you to rest for a few more days?”
“We’re very well rested.” Mara stepped around Tham and laid her fork back on the table.
“Perfect.” Ronya walked out into the corridor.
Mara looked to Tham. He nodded for her to go first.
It was their way. He would be able to see any threats lurking in front of her and protect her from any attack that came from behind.
Mara glanced toward the door before reaching for Tham’s hand. “Please.”
His fingers grazed her palm before he took her hand. A thrill rushed through her chest as the warmth of his skin pressed against hers.
Tham gave her another nod, and together, they walked into the corridor.
Eight guards in pale blue uniforms waited just outside their door. Tham tensed, but none of the men reached for the swords or daggers at their hips.
“They’ll be coming with us,” Ronya said. “We can’t risk you getting lost. Isfol is a labyrinth that has claimed the lives of many poor souls who had too much faith in their own wits.”
“We appreciate your protection,” Mara said.
“You have yet to realize how fortunate you are.” Ronya turned and strode down the corridor.
The hall had been built of the same blue ice as everything else Mara had seen since being captured, but the makers had spent much more time in the construction of the corridor. Arches filled the spaces between the doors, each niche adorned with a relief carved into the wall itself.
Mara tried to take in as many of the images as she could while distracted by all the things she longed to shout at Ronya and the pounding of the guards’ boots thumping along at her heels.
The reliefs seemed to tell a story. Or, if not a complete story, the artist had been given a specific theme for their designs.
A woman cradled a baby in her arms. The child reached away from her mother, as though hoping to tear the stars from the sky.
The mother and child stood on a mountaintop as a storm raged around them. The mother gave her child as an offering to appease whatever god had created the terrible storm.
The mountain swallowed the baby, but the child didn’t die.
The ice at the heart of the mountain changed the child. She grew into woman, a warrior who rode on the back of a wolf.
“Kareen,” Mara whispered.
“What did you say?” Ronya held up a hand to stop their party before turning to look at Mara.
“The legend of Kareen. One of the women who lives in Whitend told me the story. This one looks like her.” Mara stepped closer to the image to get a better look.
A bird circled over the woman’s head. She held a spear, its tip pointed toward the sky.
“Kareen,” Ronya said. “I don’t think I’ve heard the story the mud dwellers invented. It’s not surprising their tales mimic ours. That’s the problem with histories that involve magic―the truth of them drifts so quickly into legend. Then everyone starts to claim your people’s birth as their own origin story.”
“I’d like to hear your version of the legend if―”
“The true version of our history,” Ronya cut across Mara.
“Of course,” Mara said. “I apologize. I would like to learn about the history of your people.”
“So you can lessen your chances of our deciding it might be safe to allow you to run back out into the world?” Ronya grazed her fingers across the image of the woman before continuing down the corridor.
“In hopes of understanding why you’re so afraid.” Mara looked to Tham as they followed.
His jaw tensed.
Mara could see the movement even through the shroud of his beard.
“Do not make the mistake of confusing fear and wisdom,” Ronya said. “The Regent will not look kindly on such foolishness.”
Ronya turned down another corridor. Wide windows lined one side of the hall, offering Mara her first true glimpse of Isfol.
The massive cavern contained an entire city. There was no opening for sunlight to peer through. No hint at all of a path that might lead to the outside world.
Mara shoved aside her disappointment and turned her focus closer to the palace.
A thick wall surrounded the grounds, and just beyond the gates, the city proper began.
The houses were made of the same ice as the palace. Against the beautiful blue of the buildings, the vibrant colors worn by the people of Isfol seemed almost garish. What looked like a row of shops filled the road just beyond the palace gates, but there were no horses pulling wagons of goods. Dogs and sleds seemed to be the mode of transport favored on the roads of ice.
In the distance, just before the buildings blocked Mara’s view, a bridge spanned over a river of deep blue water.
Mara reached for her hip, ready to use her sorcerer-made scroll to create an image of the city. But she had no scroll. No magic tickled the back of her mind.
A pang of grief dug into Mara’s chest.
“Follow the Princess,” one of the guards ordered.
“Sorry,” Mara said.
Tham let go of her hand and wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping her close to his side as they hurried after Ronya.
“I’m not useless,” Mara whispered.
“I’d never think you are,” Tham said. “But I’ve been locked up for weeks, and I need a solid reminder of why now would be a deadly time to try and fight back.”
Mara placed her hand on top of Tham’s, tightening his grip on her.
A sweeping staircase led up from the end of the hall. Men and women who weren’t in any sort of uniform stopped on the steps, lowering their gazes as Ronya passed.
The members of the court had chosen tempered versions of the brazen colors the people outside the window had worn. Delicate greens, soft reds, and pale purples seemed to be the favored hues.
Ronya didn’t acknowledge her people as she climbed the stairs.
As soon as their princess had passed, the people lifted their heads and turned their interest toward Mara and Tham.
I wish I’d braided my hair.
Mara swallowed her laugh at the absurd thought. A well-dressed captive was still nothing more than a primped prisoner.
At the top of the steps, two columns of guards in white uniforms flanked a massive entryway. The ice doors had been pushed aside, offering a view into the chamber beyond.
A man in sapphire-blue robes sat on a throne built of twists and swirls, as though it had been carved by the northern wind.
Icicles hung from the vaulted ceiling, the blue lights dancing within them casting the room in a cold glow that made the whole scene seem more like a dream than a threat.
The eight guards that had accompanied them from their room surrounded Tham and Mara as they approached the throne.
“Papa.” Ronya reached for her father’s hand, offering no reverence but a kiss on his cheek.
“Your Highness.” The Regent gave his daughter a nod.
“These are the guests I’ve been telling you about,” Ronya said.
Anger burned in Mara’s chest.
“Mara Landil and Tham Karron.” Ronya smiled at Mara and Tham. “Both were on a cartographer’s journey when they lost their party to a storm.”
The Regent looked to Mara and Tham. There was kindness in his blue eyes, and the lines creasing his face seemed to fit someone accustomed to smiling.
“Southerners,” the Regent said. “We so rarely see anyone from below the mountains, let alone two Guilded Ilbreans.”
“It is an honor to meet you, Lord Regent.” Mara stepped away from Tham just enough to curtsy. “Your city is beautiful.”
“Indeed it is,” the Regent said. “But it is nothing, nothing compared to the true wonders the mountain holds.”
“Then I wish we’d come to Isfol under different circumstances,” Mara said. “I would have loved to explore the marvels of your home.”
“But you should,” the Regent said.
“I’m afraid our time here―” Mara began.
“Will be entirely monopolized by me.” Ronya gave a bashful laugh as though she were embarrassed for creating an inconvenience. “Mara and I are already becoming such good friends, and I’ve always wanted to learn more about Ilbrea. She’s sworn to tell me every last detail of her homeland and the Guilds. The gods smiled on Isfol when they brought a Guilded map maker to our door.”
15
Kai
Pain throbbed from his feet to his head, each part seeming to choose a different moment to pulse, making it impossible for Kai to decide where he had been injured worst.
The glistening of the waves dug into his eyes. Breathing made the grit in his throat catch fire. His shoulders screamed their protest with each pull on the oars. The blood on his ribs had long since dried, but the pain in his side hadn’t ebbed.
None of it mattered. Not really. Not anymore.
There in the distance. Land. Real, proper land.
The coast of Pamerane.
Vast stretches of sand, then palm trees rising up along the gentle hills to the north. A few islands reached toward them, inviting Kai to let the boat drift to their shores so he could stop rowing. Just ram the boat into the beach and finally rest.
But the islands were too small. Land like that might not have fresh water. If they stopped somewhere without water, they’d never leave. If Kai stopped rowing, he’d never find the strength to start again.
He swallowed the pain in his throat and blinked away the grit in his eyes, fighting to focus on the shoreline.
“Let me take a turn.” Brody winced as he pushed himself to sit upright.
“Rest.” The word crackled in Kai’s throat.
“You’re not the only man on board,” Brody said.
Kai glanced to the four other men in the boat.
Five. Five sailors in the boat he rowed. All of them injured. All of them far past exhaustion.
Six sailors crammed together in the boat rowing a hundred yards to the east.
Eleven men.
They’d left Ilara with sixty.
“I’m fine.” Kai pulled the oars harder.
Don’t think. Don’t think about them.
Waves crashing against the hull. The mast cracking, smashing through the deck. The crew abandoning ship. Rowing for the edge of the storm. All the surviving sailors had gotten into the boats. Even the captain.
