The Heart of Winter

Six

A shout ripped through the air. They were gathering at the crest of the hill. Even from this distance, their silhouettes were terrifying. The rune's power had faded and there was no time to cast another one, or to allow the pain of bruised elbows and scraped knees to slow me down. With the fire no longer lighting the way, I hurtled into the fog. They were coming down the hill after me.

My lungs burned, and the dead people were gaining on me. Their shouts were getting closer. I risked another glance backward. A hand reached out to me from the gloom. I cried out, then made an appeal to Lady Eir again. On second thought, perhaps someone fierce would be of more use. My mind stalled. Lady Hreiðunn—what was she for again? Making a home, or something like that. Who else was there? Lady Sólveig. Good weather and harvests. Why hadn't I paid more attention to Mama?

Just as I leapt forward it came to me—Lady Gunnhildr, the goddess of war. I landed, not hard, as I'd expected, but in water. The depth took me by surprise and I lost my balance, stumbling and sinking until my head was below water. I struggled to the surface and coughed up muddy water. Although the fog obscured the outer edges, I was waist deep in what appeared to be a river.

The spectres were now arrayed upon the banks, no longer baying or yelling. They merely watched me in silence. I tried to remember what I knew about the afterlife, but since Father was indifferent to religion unless he was railing against it, and Mama had suppressed most of the beliefs she'd grown up with, I'd never been able to get clear answers. Could spirits cross running water? I couldn't think straight anymore. I was soaked right through and shivering, and my skin was slick with mud.

Not daring to face away from them until I'd put some distance between us, I let the current carry me backward. Father had often warned me of how deceptive rivers could be, for even a shallow-looking one could become quite deep near the middle. This river was slow moving and murky, and with no moon, only those alien stars above, I was effectively navigating blindfolded.

The thought that more phantoms could be waiting on the other side of the river made me stall for a moment, and I was so sore and bruised it hurt to move. My shoulder still burned where the creature had touched me. Trying to keep my eyes open became a struggle. If not for the eerie crowd on the bank, I would have dragged myself back there and slept. But no, I had to keep going.

"Mama," I called softly into the twilight. "Father. Wait for me."

The water never reached higher than my neck, but it was thick with mud and for the sake of my sanity, I tried not to imagine what other horrors it might contain. Just when I began to fear I might be wading in circles and never really going anywhere, the water gradually became more and more shallow.

Through wisps of fog, I glimpsed a snowy bank. It appeared empty. I let out a shuddering breath. With one final lurch I made it to the other side and tumbled to the ground.

Brushing aside the thin layer of fine, powdery snow revealed a patch of grass. It was grey and withered. I plucked at it and the grass came away easily. Despite having been concealed beneath snow, the grass was bone-dry. Stunned, I spread the dead stalks on my palm and examined them. They weren't like any plants I'd ever seen. Each blade of grass was ridged and edged with curious little spikes. The snow here wasn't normal either. After all I'd been through, I ought to have been suffering from frostbite by now, yet I was mostly fine apart from being cold from my drenching in the river. I pulled up some more clumps of grass and placed them on a damp handkerchief. After knotting the ends I put the little package inside my oilskin pouch beside Parny's book. Instead of slipping the pouch back in my pocket, I stretched the cord as far as it would go and hung it around my neck, where it lay against my crane pendant.

My soaked, muddy clothing weighed me down, but I dragged myself up and stumbled forward on the snow-covered land. Far in the distance, a path became visible, but the end was hidden by mist. I had no choice but to move forward, for nothing else existed in that place, only that creeping fog, and the interminable wind which threatened to throw me off course any second. I prayed I wouldn't run into anything else. Although I walked upon solid ground, I was adrift in a sea of hopelessness. I just kept moving on, in that endless, featureless void, until I no longer cared about anything but finding rest and shelter.

I couldn't be certain when the landscape began to change. At first, I refused to believe it. I had to blink and rub my eyes several times to convince myself the lone tree rising out of the mist wasn't a figment of my fevered imagination. Through sheer force of will I managed to reach it, for I needed to touch it to prove to myself it was real. If it was real then it meant I, too, existed. I, too, was real, a living, breathing creature of flesh and blood.

A distant memory came to me then, an echo of words that someone had once said to me: Your spirit is lost. You cannot find your way home. It must have been a long time ago. Maybe she had been a friend. My brow furrowed. I couldn't remember if I'd ever had any friends. There was something else, an elusive fragment I felt certain was important, but just when I thought it within my grasp, it drifted away and merged with the fog.

His will that keeps you here. Confused, I looked around me. I knew I was alone. I was the only person in the world. I heard the phrase repeated a few more times, and came to understand the sounds originated from inside my mind. Giggling, I pictured the words bouncing around inside my head, smashing into each other, splitting apart, then colliding again.

And I saw a pale throat, and a pendant glinting in the moonlight, and I heard a voice crying out in pain.

And I remembered everything.

When at last I reached the road, it was almost a relief to find the Winter King waiting at the end of it.