Chill

Chapter 11

"The Frost Witch, the Frost Witch, run!" the girl screamed and ran across the floor, vaulted over a wooden settle and dived among some cushions at the back of the room. Other youngsters scattered with equally loud shouts of alarm as the terrifying figure lurched stiffly towards them, claws outstretched to seize an unwilling victim.

"Argh!" it said, and paused, turning this way and that. A whimper from a concealed spot fixed its attention and it lumbered on. "Got you!" came the inevitable cry of triumph. The victim shrieked and laughed.

"Maena, it's not funny," Forsa said. "Besides those kids should be at their lessons."

"Aw," said one grumpily and Maena opened her eyes and took off the white kerchief that was her snowy shroud.

With the deterioration in both the weather and relations with Lower Maeven the school had been closed for the foreseeable future. Thus the teenagers of Upper Maeven, those whose families had chosen to stay, found themselves with time on their hands to do other things. The younger members of the dwindling community still needed some sort of schooling however and the Wayfarer Inn had space enough in its detached outbuildings to accommodate the six under thirteens remaining in Upper Maeven. Having volunteered to monitor and watch over lessons set by Proctor Sumisoe, Maena and Forsa found themselves temporarily thrown together the afternoon of the bridal hunt while they waited for the hunters to return.

Maena's weather witch reputation was a source of fun for the excited youngsters, undaunted by the freezing weather, and as lessons were so boring she thought it would be better to play than learn. Forsa thought otherwise and brought the wayward youngsters to heel. Maena shrugged in sympathy and sat on a cushion near the fire to flick through a book.

"Don't you think this is all a bit ridiculous?" Forsa said, slamming her own book down and glaring at the youngsters, as if daring them to be unruly. They cowered in their seats.

"What's ridiculous, us keeping an eye on the kids?" Maena responded, pausing from her reading and making a cross-eyed expression at a little girl who was looking to her for reassurance. The toddler giggled and Forsa frowned.

"No, this bridal hunt business. Sending grown men out into the freezing cold to kill a defenceless animal and bring parts of it back as some kind of trophy. Yes, we could do with the meat, but does the whole thing have to be turned into some game of do or dare?"

"Well, if you put it like that," and Maena's silvery grey eyes twinkled. She flicked her chestnut hair unconsciously as the gesture was becoming a habit with her now. "It's what men do, though, isn't it?" she continued. "Proving themselves, testing themselves, seeking admiring glances from their lady loves." There was a giggle at this expression from one of the youngsters.

Forsa gave Maena a sharp look. She had not forgotten the whisper cube incident where her quest to find where lay the true affections of Paalar Musconie had fallen flat.

"True love shouldn't need foolhardy gestures," she said sourly.

"Sounds like you've been reading Lilac Love Romances," Maena sniggered. The Lilac Love brand was aimed at older readers and featured more sedate wooing and winning, unlike the Rosy Love product which was racier and replete with dangerous and daring male characters willing to risk all to ravish or carry off their chosen sweetheart.

"Just saying," and Forsa shook her head before falling silent. Maena realised that was probably the longest conversation she had ever had with the moody Bandilor girl. She was not friends with her and knew little of her background. The family was well off, hence the expensive pyramid toy, but there was no obvious social circle she naturally fell into as most of the settlers were poor but hard working sheep farmers with only a couple of generations of rearing animals behind them. Maena's obvious wealth might have created a connection but there was a defensiveness about Forsa Bandilor, as if she had been told something regarding the Madrullians that suggested she should avoid them if possible or merely tolerate them when thrown together in day to day life.

Maena mentally shrugged her shoulders. She was not here to make friends, merely to be a companion and helpmeet for her beloved grandfather as he worked out whatever project took up so much of his time. She wished she could help but he refused to divulge the inner workings of his plans much to her frustration. Thankfully the bronze eyes and athletic form of Tam Sorrell were a welcome distraction for her. He was definitely a Rosy Love hero, just as she determined to be a Rosy Love heroine. No dishwater Lilac Romance stuff for her.

The clock on the wall pinged. It was cell driven and so independent of any power cuts at present. The various cells used in Upper Maeven could be renewed from the mansion generators and several time pieces had already undergone the essential charging for it was too easy in the isolation and silence of the chill to lose track of time. She glanced up at the glowing numbers and they told her it had been three hours since Fallow and the others had departed. She sighed and strained to listen for any sound other than the thrumming of the wind pressing down on the roof above.

Little Patina Miesal caught her eye and made a face as she chewed her pencil. Maena laughed and returned the compliment. She was about to strike up a Frost Witch pose with stiff claws and bulging eyed stare when the door burst open. It was Sumira.

"They're back," she cried but the look on her face told of worry rather than the expected exulted pride at a successful hunt. After all, Fallow was supposed to be bringing back the horns of an elk as a bridal trophy.

Everyone evacuated the temporary classroom and assembled in the drinking hall, now the centre of any community activity in Upper Maeven. The place was warm and brightly lit and currently crowded with young and old.

At one end, near the screened outer door a group of men huddled, dripping with melting frost as they disentangled themselves from their protective clothing, which was no sooner discarded than gathered and put away by the womenfolk. Maena noted Tam was in the hall, dressed for service with his apron strapped around his waist and several empty mugs dangling off finger and thumb. Like everyone else he had paused to watch the returned hunters. Maena sidled closer to him as a bright eyed Eastel detached himself from the huddle of men and strode over. He went straight to the table at which Teric was seated, exploding with words of excitement as soon as he sat down.

"You should have seen him!" he began. "The biggest bull elk in the universe," and he gestured with outstretched hands. Those near who heard laughed at this extravagant description.

"Did you get him?" Teric asked the inevitable question.

"Naw. Thought they were fearless, but this one ran like a baby deer up into the glacial heights." He sat at the table and removed thick boots. Then he took a swig from Teric's juice mug and slammed it down like he had seen his uncle do with an empty mug of Vivid after a particularly invigorating draught. After a belch he looked around at his friends feeling like a king among his courtiers. This was his moment and he was savouring it to the full. Tam watched him with good-natured pride and not a little envy. He took up the recently emptied mug and went for a refill. Eastel nodded gratefully.

"One for you too," he said. "On me." Never before had he felt so grown up for all his sixteen years of existence and he was determined to enjoy the moment. Teric leaned forward with Allak Dimsoe next to him mirroring the gesture.

"Tell us what happened?" Teric asked eagerly, showing no signs of annoyance the lad had downed his own drink. More beverages were on their way.

Others among the hunters were settling into various corners and tables also, seeking rest and warmth from their surroundings, and just as Eastel was about to launch into his version of the adventure a disturbance broke out elsewhere in the hall.

"Get off me woman! It's not my business," a gruff voice was heard among the general hum of conversation and the sight of Dorstal Pamistoe shrugging off Sumira caught everyone's eye.

"Where is he!" came the sharp cry in response, cutting through the thick smoky atmosphere. "Where's my husband? Why hasn't he come back with you?" Conversations in various parts of the room died away as the realisation set in the hunters were indeed one man short. Their leader in the bridal hunt had not returned with them. Lick Sorrell came forward and addressed the Pamistoe brothers where they sat together while Sumira stood angrily and worriedly before them.

"What happened to Fallow?" he said with quiet concern. All was silent now, all eyes focused and all ears turned on the stocky brothers as they sullenly shifted their gaze from the worried young woman to the innkeep.

"Still up there," Dorstal replied offhandedly and made to swallow some drink but Lick snatched it from him. The man stood quickly at the affront. "What, am I barred now?" he snarled. Although he was half a head shorter than the innkeep, like all the Pamistoes he was sturdily built and feared no man in a fight, excepting perhaps the man now missing. Malten intervened.

"Lick, we couldn't stop him," he explained, raising his voice so all could hear. "His blood was up. As young Eastel said, the elk was an extraordinary beast, and Fallow wanted to take it for his bride." Sumira could be heard sobbing in the background. "Something spooked the creature, not us I'm sure for it could have crushed us all," he continued the story. "It climbed up treacherous ice rivers with a speed impossible to imagine and Fallow could not resist such a challenge. We tried to dissuade him but he would go on alone. The light was good up there, but colder than the coldest winter imaginable. Deep space cold with air like solid ice," and he shook his head sadly.

"You abandoned him!" Sumira cut in and tried to throw herself at Malten. Karanie Fornoe, who was a lithe, athletic girl, grabbed the bride by the waist and hauled her back, shushing the smaller woman all the while like a mother would a petulant child.

"He'll be back," Dorstal sneered. "Made of granite that one," and he held his empty mug out meaningfully. Tam made to take it off him for a refill, paused to glance at his father who nodded, and then performed his serving duties accordingly.

"Daddy!" one of the little girls scampered forward then and hugged Malten by the legs. He was not her father and there was an outbreak of laughter as he picked her up and passed her to a true relation. The incident broke the tense atmosphere and everyone began to speak at once.

"We'll give the man the grace of one hour," Lick Sorrell declared loudly, "and then we'll go get him, with or without elk horns!" and there were cheers of approbation at this announcement.

It was the longest hour in Sumira's young life as she sat in one of the softest chairs by the fire with other females hovering near to keep a sympathetic eye on her. She clutched and rent a kerchief with nervous impatience while Karanie continued her soothing gestures, stroking and arranging her hair and cooing softly in her ear. Maena's monitor duties were effectively over and she installed herself at a table without really thinking where she was sitting to observe the theatre that was the drinking hall, chewing absently on some spiced dry mutton all the while.

The strange performance of Karanie put her in reflective mood. The whisper cube had said something about the girl, something very much to the prejudice of Merry Dimsoe's aspirations, and the natural insightfulness of Maena's offworld upbringing perhaps gave something of a clue to Karanie's true feelings. Was this an act of a guilty conscience? Was Parthan Fallow the secret lover of the young woman? She could understand the attraction. In fact they seemed to Maena's discriminating eye to be a more suitable couple than Sumira and Parthan as Karanie was tall and strong and in some respects fearless.

Maena remembered numerous incidents in and around Maeven where the Fornoe girl showed bravery and foresight in handling livestock, rescuing lambs on cliff ledges and confronting foolhardy drunks in the yards where she used to work before the chill closed everything down. The Fornoe family were a strong-bodied bunch who lived in an extended cottage half way down the slope. One or two of the male members had signed up for Lumos work in the mining districts but no one begrudged them this as work was work. They were not agents but employees. Maena could easily believe Parthan Fallow might be tempted by the physical attractions of Karanie Fornoe. Only, there was something noble and pure-hearted about the man that seemed to undermine that thought. Would he truly betray his lady love? Only the blackest villains of Rosy Love Romances would behave thus. Although Fallow looked the part with his dark features, bushy eyebrows shadowing a smouldering glance, and his vehement resolve, the idea did not sit comfortably with Maena.

The big hall clock pinged loudly and the space erupted with activity. The hour was up and Fallow had made no appearance. Men gathered their protective garments together; women gave advice to spouses, sons and uncles. It was late afternoon and the light was fading fast. Great torches were produced, heat seeking goggles distributed and weapons, lots of weapons just in case.

It had to be said, Dorstal Pamistoe was one of the first to gear up and present himself at the screen ready to plunge into the freezing twilight world of the High Peaks. His nephew however was turned back. "This is man's work," he said harshly, "and you are just a boy." Eastel turned away deflated, all the enthusiasm and self-esteem drained from him by the harsh words of his uncle, an uncle who loved him enough to want him kept safe. He could not see it that way of course.

Lick Sorrell, no hunter or mountaineer, kept to his inn. He would not be a part of this manhunt on dangerous ground but felt no compunction about staying behind, being philosophical in the matter, for he would be more a hindrance than a help. He repeated the drink barrel performance in spite of there being more men to serve now. Expense was no consideration in a case like this.

"All speed to your feet, and sharpness to your eye," he blessed the men in a toast. "Bring everyone home safely. Your families need you." With that the great hall door was opened, howling wind blanketed the whimpering of those left behind, and the men disappeared into the gloom.

Again there was a feeling as of impending tragedy hanging over the community. Damsin Sorrell attempted some songs to lighten the mood but her voice quavered and died in the heavy oppressive atmosphere.

"It's going to be a long evening ladies and gentlemen," Lick then announced from the raised end of the hall where his wife had shuffled off moments before. "I suggest most of you go home and get some rest and we'll keep watch and ward here so that any news will be instantly received." He was feeling the tension of the day which had started with such excitement due to the bridal hunt and was now ending with a manhunt. Sumira was invited to stay of course and an evening meal was partaken with funereal solemnity by those who remained.

Maena invited some girl friends to await events at the Madrullian mansion but there were no takers. Forsa Bandilor stated baldly that the whisper cube gave her the creeps and she did not want to hear any bad news from its posh and emotionless voice. Thus after the all but silent meal Maena said her goodnights to Sumira and departed alone to the Madrullian mansion where in the solitary warmth and softness of her bedroom she flopped down on her bed. Listening to the rising and falling winds she lay very still, staring at the ceiling and twirling a lock of her chestnut hair in thought. Her mind was full of the events of the day and she recalled Forsa's tart comment about the whisper cube. She glanced at the softly glowing device as it sat expectantly on a shelf, humming to itself occasionally. Quickly she sat up, cleared her mind as best she could and concentrated on the strange device.

"Fallow," she said in the silence and swallowed nervously, not sure what the response might be to her obvious prompt. The cube seemed to make a hiccup noise and then hummed to itself again as if considering an answer. Sometimes if a suggestion was put to it clearly enough the device would pick up on that rather than randomly make observations on people and things nearest to it. Her mind was full of the fate of Fallow and she hoped the whisper cube could find the man in its strange telepathic way and thereby impart a clue as to his condition. Of course if he was dead she knew Kyoobee would find nothing.

"This is a secret," the cube hissed suddenly and Maena tensed up, clutching her nightgown in bunched fists.

"Yes?" she gulped and held her breath.

"Karanie Fornoe does not love Parthan Fallow, she loves him not."

Stupid! Maena thought to herself, compressing her lips with a mixture of frustration and relief. The i***t machine was delving into her speculative thoughts of earlier regarding Karanie.

"And yet..." the cube then added tentatively, a part of its mischievous programming no doubt, as the manufacturers intended. "And yet your mother cares, she cares indeed. Not loving, just caring."

Maena blew out her cheeks in anger.

"If you mention my mother again, caring or not caring, loving or not loving, I'll rip your cells out for good!" she declared, throwing a pillow on top of the glowing device and rolling over on her bed to sob away her loneliness and confusion.

During all the bridal hunt drama Tam had not noticed that Maena Madrullian had been in the drinking hall. His attention was drawn to the tension among the men, Eastel's moment of glory that was quickly tarnished and the excitement of a manhunt to rescue the individual least likely to need rescuing. Tam had complete faith in Parthan Fallow to not only survive the harsh climate but to return successfully with the horns of the beast his intended victim, even if it took him all night to track, kill and dismember it.

His demeanour as he wiped empty tables once most had left was one of sullen submission to the will of his family, a temporary acquiescence in the mundane world of the Sorrell Wayfarer Inn. In spite of what had happened, the thrill of the wedding battle as he called it, and the potential for adventure on the High Peaks among fearsome wild beasts, he still held onto the dream of flying away from Troy to see the greater universe. He knew there was more to see in the galaxy than a hundred lifetimes could account for. Wild worlds abounded, great open spaces waiting to be mapped and explored. Mountains and rivers no human eye had ever gazed upon. Strange cosmic phenomena and untapped riches left by those mysterious beings the Imortas. All of it would be his if he could simply get off world and find a Gate to take him wherever he so wished to go.

Thus he too lay on his bed alone once his friends had departed, staring with glazed vision at a featureless wooden ceiling that creaked to the sound of heavy gusts of wind. His cell driven glowlight was off and he lay in the darkness. The instanet was shut to him of course for no cables had any power in them except for essential news feeds. The Madrullian mansion kept up most of the feeds and the professor liaised with several remaining Proctors, the only educated class in Maeven, in monitoring any possible significant news items, action by Ithak or the Crystal Lumos. Maena had explained to him how that worked and how if needed, power could be transferred from infodump protocols to cooking facilities as required. It seemed a comical juxtaposition the way the girl had said it but that was her way and they had laughed about it at the time.

He recalled too how the professor had been tight-lipped over what the Lumos were planning since the stand off with Upper Maeven. The rumour was the power cuts had nothing to do with the weather and that Lower Maeven was being seeded with dissent to isolate those higher up on the mountain. Food was scarcer than ever and wood difficult to come by. Surrounded by all this animosity the chill seemed like a protective blanket rather than an oppressive foe.

Tam idly pondered what Sara and Evie were doing right now. The one was nursing the other no doubt. He shut off the image and it brought the thin passionate face of Maena Madrullian to the fore. The girl of mystery, skimmer boots and offworld knowledge. What had she seen with those strange silvery eyes of hers? Star clouds and nebulous mists and strange worlds he might never get the chance to visit. Perhaps he was destined to live out his harsh short life on this backward world, perhaps he might never see the spring or summer again. The chill was showing no sign of lifting as some predicted it would once weather patterns adjusted themselves. He sighed and shifted uncomfortably on his bed.

In spite of his jealousy at the Madrullian girl's experiences a trickle of sympathy seeped into his consciousness. He remembered how she looked when she hugged the Plighting Oak in a blizzard dressed only in frilly pink underwear. She was hot, she said. He smiled, then a sadness drew his lips into a downward curve. The place was killing her, driving her mad with its poisonous metallic atmosphere. It was in the water, the air she breathed and in the very sub atomic particles irradiating through the crust of a world. Meta-minerals were not suitable fare for a teenage girl from the Old Worlds. Why had the professor dragged his vulnerable granddaughter here, dragged himself to a spot so close to such a family tragedy? It did not make any sense.

In spite of the wind the evening was silent. With the drinking hall all but emptied and men off on the mountainside looking for Fallow, the Wayfarer Inn had an air of abandonment about it. Closed for business. Tam's eyelids became increasingly heavy and he drifted off to sleep while replaying in his mind the search for Evie, the closest he had come to what the men out there were experiencing.

He did not know what woke him, nor how long he had been out. Tam shook his head in the dark, disoriented a moment, before turning on a small globe to check the time. It was after midnight. He found he was unusually thirsty and got up. As soon as he reached the balcony he heard voices and stayed his foot to listen. It was Malten Pamistoe and one other he did not recognise from where he was, talking to his father in the dimly lit drinking hall. They had returned!

Tam was about to race down the stairs when the words of Malten halted his action.

"Snow madness or not, this is real enough," he said in emphatic tones.

The shadowy figures leaned together as the man held out something in a gloved hand. He was still in his protective gear as if he had walked straight in off the frozen slopes right up to where Lick Sorrell had awaited him by the fire.

"The scanner picked it up before our instruments went haywire and left us blind," Malten said, turning the object over and over so Lick could examine it.

"Dropped by a girl before the chill surely, a hair clasp," Lick suggested. Tam could see even at a distance the telltale glint of gold and flashes of ruby red stones from the tiny object, glimmering in the firelight.

"You're a man of education," Malten countered the doubt in Lick's voice. "Even you must see this is offworld stuff. No damsel of Maeven, or Troy Totalis even, wore such a thing, not even the Madrullian girl." The mention of Maena made Tam hold his breath and listen more intensely. What had they found high up in the mountain valleys? Some offworld jewel.

"Old fashioned certainly, antique even. I'll pass it to the professor to look at tomorrow," Lick said. "Hopefully by then Fallow will have stopped raving about frost demons and ice maidens too. Sumira looked heartbroken at the state of the man but he was alive, fiercely alive and it's a miracle. Can't thank you and your brother enough for finding him."

"Aye," Malten responded with a nod. "Dorstal's an argumentative cuss at the best of times but his heart's good, believe me. Yet there'll be no end of chaffing when the story of this strange half-naked girl wandering about barefoot in the snow gets out. Blue eyes, winsome figure and silver-blonde hair. A fantasy freshly minted from the Frozen Peak storytellers I reckon. We've lively times ahead now the danger's over, till the next crisis."

The men chuckled softly among themselves and made to go their separate ways. Tam realised his father would spot him skulking on the stairs so he made himself scarce. He waited in his room till all was quiet again and then ventured out for that much needed drink before settling with some relief back in bed.

His entire body felt as if glowing with electric fire.

Parthan Fallow was found, he was safe. Suffering from snow madness as the man had said, but alive. Made of granite. Invincible. Willing to take on a bull elk alone in sub zero temperatures. The man was a legend.

Yet there it was, a story straight from the mythical fantasies of the north. An Ice Maiden. Beautiful, alluring, impossible. The Spirit of the Chill. And the Frozen Peaks hero, in his brave endeavours, had managed to see her. Tam drifted off to sleep again, attempting in imaginings to mould his life on that of such an adventurer as Parthan Fallow, yet his dreams of High Peak adventure amid sparkling snow drifts were inevitably hijacked by a slim girl dressed only in frost wreaths, her pale naked limbs glistening with ice crystals as she danced and swayed and stalked around him, hunting him down. And when she turned her gaze upon him it was not the blue of ice that pierced his soul but the silver gaze of Maena Madrullian, the Ice Maiden.

To be continued...