Chapter 4

Alador

The blinding ice and snow wasn’t the only problem Alador and the children faced. It was the fact that after hours of walking they’d yet to find a place suitable to shelter in.

Built as he was to handle the cold, even he felt the sharp sting of it burn against whatever flesh was exposed. He’d long since shifted out of his centaur form into that of a human male.

When he’d come upon the children as a centaur they’d looked upon him with fear, scuttling out of his reach as best they could. No doubt terrified out of their wits by the unfamiliarity of him.

Alador knew only a little of what’d happened to him, and clearly the children knew no more than him. He’d fought like the devil when the Under Goblin had magically snatched him from the safety of his herd.

Even a creature as powerful as the Under Goblin was no physical match for the prowess of a fully-grown centaur male, but where Alador bested the goblin in strength, he was no match against magic.

The only magic inherent to his kind was the ability to shift from centaur to man and back again.

There’d been no warning, no words of taunting, no boasting whatsoever. The Under Goblin had merely sneered at Alador as he’d wiped at the blood on his lips and thrust him inside this maze of ice and snow.

Not that Alador had expected a full explanation, but something might have been nice. Now they walked blind through a storm that seemed hell bent on their destruction with no reason or knowledge of why.

The Ice Queen was in a fury, of that he was certain.

For miles he’d walked, sure he was alone in this nightmare, only to discover the children a few hours later.

They were all tired, all aching from the journey that seemed to lead nowhere. Even breathing was becoming more and more difficult in these conditions. His chest ached, no doubt due to the struggle with the Goblin, but keeping on his feet for so long wasn’t helping.

The howling winds were shrieks of wrath as they shook the ice and snow from off frozen pine branches. Teeth chattering, he looked down at the children, their footsteps had turned slow and plodding. Their already pale skin was now a ghostly shade of white.

Only a few hours in, but already he sensed death’s kiss lingering upon their doorstep. If they didn’t find shelter soon, they wouldn’t last another day.

Only problem was everywhere they turned was nothing but towering, skeletal trees, and valleys of white. There were no caves, no dips or grooves in the ground to build a temporary lean to from. There was just nothing.

He looked down up the children once again, his insides aching with the futility of their situation.

There was a little girl, Gerda, and a boy, Kai. They spoke with accents from the Northern parts of Kingdom—melodious, but with a slight lisp to it.

Why were they here?

What had they done to the Goblin? Not that Alador believed the children had out and out done anything, but surely the goblin had to have had a reason for choosing those two over say, children from the Eastern lands.

Why them?

And for that matter, why him?

Trembling, Alador fought the natural inclination of his body to freeze up, and gathered the children tighter to him, tossing the long edges of his cloak over them, covering them completely.

In his valley it rarely blizzarded, he was eternally grateful that today of all days he’d reached for his cloak.

Without it, he’d have had no buffer for the children.

Though his herd lived in close proximity to the Ice Queen she’d never taken her rage out of them. They too lived in a world of ice, but it teemed with life. With animals, and plants, and a constant harvest of winter grains. Here there were dead trees and nothing but white upon white.

But he was also developing a niggling suspicion that this wasn’t an eternal land, rather that somehow they were trapped in a loop of time that kept them permanently rooted in a certain circumference of time. He wasn’t sure of the dimensions, but he did know that the rock they were walking toward now bore the same slash marks he’d carved into it a few hours back when they’d passed it.

His heart sank. This place was enchanted, a trap, they’d not been meant to escape.

Pragmatic to the core, as all centaurs were, he refused to give into false hope or even offer those assurances to the children. Wherever they were, and for whatever reason the Under Goblin had thrust them there, they’d never stood a chance of getting out.

Clenching his back molars, he knew the next logical step to take was to stop walking in endless circles, and build some form of shelter. No doubt Haxion would try to figure out a way to get to him. Their sibling bond was such that she already knew the peril he faced.

Shelter, and water. That’s what they needed most. With those two things they could at least buy her a few days to try and figure a way out for them.

Since there didn’t seem to be any natural buffer zones against the wind and snow, Alador decided to do the next best thing and dig a snow cave out of the ice itself. It would still be cold, but without the wind bearing down on them, it would feel a little warmer at least.

And if the children were comfortable enough with him now, he could transform back to centaur and throw off more heat in that form. It wouldn’t be nearly as nice as a warm bed, but it would be a million times better than what they had now.

He was about to yank the cloak off his shoulders and wrap it tightly around the children while he went in search of timber to build a fire with, when the shrill cry of a bird pierced the deafening chaos of winter’s storm.

That was the first sign of true life he’d heard in this place. Earlier he’d sworn there’d been the voice of a woman speaking to them, but the voice had faded away, convincing him what he thought he’d heard had been nothing more than the howling of wind echoing through this strange, cursed land.

The falcon, covered in thick, white plumage landed on the gnarled tip of a branch, blinking golden, beady eyes down at them.

Alador frowned; he’d seen that bird before. Speckled with black spots along its hind and tail, but it was its beak that’d trigger the memory in him. Its beak was the rich blue of an ice vein.

“To me, Baatha.”

The woman’s voice was shocking to hear even as the tonal quality of it was a velvety caress to his ears.

The children tucked beneath his cloak shifted, peeked out as he too turned to look at her.

The Ice Queen.

The woman of myth, legend, and undeniable beauty.

Seemingly carved from out of the very ice she called home. Her skin was a glasswork image of feminine curves and graceful lines. Slashing cheekbones, a softly rounded jaw, and a delicate nose. Piercing arctic-blue eyes raked him, making his own flesh tremble.

Her hair was a cascade of shimmering strands of silvery-white that flowed halfway down her legs in supple waves. Around her head she wore a crown of ice and buzzing through that crown were the languid, fat little bodies of snow bees.

Dressed in a gown of purest white interspersed with strands of glittering gems dangling like winking ice-crystals in the sun. On her shoulders were silver epaulettes that seemed spun from liquid mercury and should have looked strangely out of place on the ethereal beauty but instead they only heightened her exotic appeal.

With an ear-splitting cry, Baatha flew to her, landing heavily on one of them.

But the Queen did not even flinch. Her gaze hadn’t once strayed from his.

Her bare feet left no tracks as she walked—practically glided—toward them, stopping only once a few feet separated them.

Alador’s heart sped. Struck temporarily dumb by her overwhelming presence. His people had often told stories of the woman in the ice, the shadowy, mysterious figure few among his kind had ever chanced to meet.

She held up her hand, and the winds that’d howled so furiously with ice and sleet quieted instantly. The sudden lack of noise and rage of snow was almost overwhelming after hours of being trapped within it.

A fleeting look of relief washed across her brows, to see her show emotion, and that one of all of them, made Alador feel like a mute.

He couldn’t seem to make his tongue work. To ask her why she’d come. Why she’d looked relieved. Or even could they now go home.

All he could do was look upon her in awed silence.

“You’re pretty,” Gerda’s voice was a stunned whisper that sounded more like a scream as the trees around them echoed with the sound of it.

Not even a smile played along the Queen’s lips as she finally released him from that hypnotic gaze to glance down at the girl poking her head out of his cloak.

“Where are you from, child?” her words were velvet laced in steel.

Alador knew the Queen had an aversion to humans. Though he did not know why.

Gerda hugged his waist tight, her tiny fingers dug into his hipbone as she smashed her face tight to his leg. Alador looked down at the crown of her pale blond head.

The children had hardly spoken to him, and beautiful as the Queen was, there was a manner about her that was intimidating even to him.

“I believe them to be from the northernmost plains of Kingdom,” he said when it was obvious Gerda would not speak.

Those hypnotic eyes of hers returned back to his face and he trembled. Not only from the power that rippled all around her, but also the sheer magnitude of that stare. Like she saw straight through him.

There was so little anyone knew of the Queen. Who she was? How she’d come to be? It was all a mystery to his people. One he’d never given much thought to, until now.

Tipping her head to the side, she peeked behind him, and then narrowed her eyes. “You are in human form, why?”

“They feared my other form.”

“Oh,” she said, and her voice suddenly sounded so small. She hugged her arms to herself, and inhaled deeply before giving him a brief nod.

Without even needing to ask, Alador understood that this form made the Queen nervous. He noticed it in the way her fingers twitched, curling and uncurling before tapping out a little rhythm on her bicep.

“Why are you here?” he finally asked the one question on the minds of all of them.

Alador had half expected her not to answer him, but was surprised when she did.

“I suppose I am here to tend to you three.” Even she sounded surprised by that admission.

He frowned. “Do you know what the Under Goblin did?”

The way she’d phrased that sentence led him to believe it’d not come as a shock at all to her to find them trapped within her lands.

As she nodded fat flakes of snow drifted down around them. But without the biting wind behind it, it was actually kind of pretty. Turning the place into a wintery wonderland.

The trees that’d earlier been so dead were now coming to life, turning from skeletal, lifeless things into huge conifers full of waxy green needles and fat mahogany pinecones. Red and white berries began to appear upon the branches, as though by magic.

And then he realized it was magic. It was her magic. The world that’d been so void of life now burst with it the moment she’d stepped forth.

Snowbirds, squirrels, and even deer suddenly appeared, looking upon them all with quizzical little eyes. Creatures that’d not been there before were now everywhere.

The Queen who lived her life secluded from the world in a palace made of ice, that’d always seemed so foreboding and lifeless, had brought life with her.

How?

Stories spoke of a woman kept away from the world, a woman who hated any and all, a woman who’d let a human suffer and die rather than render aid.

She glanced up at the gray, murky colored sky. “We have less than an hour of sunlight left, you will need shelter.”

Those dazzling blue eyes turned back on him, and Alador could hardly explain the sensation that overtook him whenever she did. Like he stood on the needlepoint precipice of a towering cliff with nothing below him but miles of sky.

He swallowed.

Pursing her rosebud shaped lips tight, she turned, lifted both her arms high and without uttering a word, began to build them a palace that looked as though it’d been chiseled out of smooth glass.

Even though the sun had begun to set and its rays were weak, the palace gleamed like a polished diamond. The place was massive, its parapets soaring high into the clouds. Twin towers on other end of it pointed up like proud sentinels. An enormous gate beckoned them, the knowledge that safety rested behind those cold walls was an enticement that had his exhausted body feeling suddenly energized and rejuvenated. Even the children, who’d seemed on the verge of collapse, were hopping from foot to foot.

The queen turned, glanced down at the children and said, “To your rooms, go.”

And in an instant, they’d vanished.

Frowning, Alador growled, stretching out his arms to futilely reach for the children, but they were long gone.

“What have you done with them?” he snapped as he spun toward her.

That was the Queen he’d expected from the beginning, a heartless, cold, unfeeling—

“They trembled most violently. I sent them to warm themselves by the fire and gave them some food too.” Her words were soft, but matter of fact.

Her generosity punched him in the gut. Made him squirm, and uncomfortable, because once more he found himself surprised by her.

Could it be that the stories were all wrong? Or was this merely some game, or ploy? Was she trying to bring down his defenses? Was she in on this game with the Under Goblin?

And if so, why?

She blinked, and once again she transformed in front of him. Going from shy, almost timid, to queenly and calculating.

“Shift,” she said it without preamble, without even asking, it was a demand that made the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on edge.

Centaur society was built on a matriarchal culture, the men subservient to the women in nearly all ways. It was ingrained in him to want to obey her, and yet she was not his chieftain, nor his queen.

His fingers clenched.

Those hawkish eyes of hers latched onto the movement immediately.

“I have angered you,” she said it softly.

Not truly a question, and yet thoughtful. As though she couldn’t understand why she’d upset him as she had.

She discombobulated him. One second he was sure he knew the true make of her character, and the next she was doing or saying something to make him think he knew nothing of the real woman at all.

“Yes,” he admitted.

A puzzled little frown marred her brows, and again she moved her head in the manner of her bird Baatha. Her mannerisms were uniquely her own and Alador could only guess that it was her long years isolated from the rest of the world that’d made her so.

Haxion had always told him he cared too much about others, too much for creatures who meant nothing to them, were nothing to them. And maybe that was true, but he was who he was and would always remain so.

“Then I am sorry. I fear I do not remember how to interact civilly with others. My skills are quite rusted.”

Again her soft, sweet words threw him and he frowned at a complete loss for how he should feel.

He thought he should be angry, but she reminded him so much of an innocent, naïve child that it was impossible to be angry at her even though he was still sure she’d had something to do with their current predicament.

“Where are the children, Ice Queen?” he asked softly.

“In their respective towers, but tended to by an ice maiden. They should want for nothing.”

“They are only children.” His tone was even measured and sure. “And now separated, they’re probably worried and scared out of their wits. Couldn’t they at least come together for a while, to settle themselves in?”

A pretty little frown marred her thin brows. “I did not think of that.” Shaking her head, she pursed her lips. “I should have thought of that.” Sighing, she snapped her fingers. “Thank you, male, they are together for their evening meal.”

A breath of wind brushed along her temples, causing the curls around her face to flutter like feathers. His heart banged violently in his chest again.

Goddess she was lovely.

Lovely and strange and quite possibly the mastermind behind all of this...kind or no, he needed to keep his wits about him.

Clenching his jaw, he looked over toward the palace, at the twin towers standing tall and foreboding off in the distance. Could he really trust her? Were the children truly okay?

“What game do you play, Ice Queen?”

When he turned to look back at her, he was shocked to discover that she stood mere inches from him now, so close that he took an involuntary step back even as he inhaled her sweet scent deep into his lungs.

The air was ripe with the heady fragrance of pine and frost and sugared berries. He shook his head, telling himself not to let her get under his skin this way. It was likely some strange enchantment of hers, or something else dark and devious...

But one thought brought him up short.

Weren’t the Ice Queen and the Under Goblin mortal enemies? All the stories said so.

And yet...all the stories also said she was a monster with the form of an angel.

Again she did that strange bird-like movement with her head and neck, blinking large, gorgeous eyes up at him as she too tried to make sense of him.

And once again he felt his skin flush from head to toe, felt himself standing on that cliff’s edge of darkness that dropped down into eternity if he so much as blinked.

Grunting, he shook his head. Sure now that he was being ensorcelled somehow. But no matter how much he thought it, he couldn’t shake the fact that his heart and pulse and body felt completely off kilter anytime she looked at him as she did now.

“I do wish you’d transform yourself, male.”

There wasn’t a bite to her words, they simply were.

“What are you?” He found himself asking the question before he could censor his thoughts. “What are you doing to me?”

Goddess, she needed to turn those luminous eyes off of him. She needed to not look at him as she was. His insides were rioting, but why? What was happening to him?

Pragmatic to the core, as all centaurs were, he couldn’t understand these strange and novel feelings now surging through him like a hot tidal wave. Slamming into him powerfully, and making him feel as though he couldn’t take a proper breath.

She took a step closer to him, and again, he found himself dancing back. But not sure why. He was drawn to her against his will, knowing deep down that what was happening to him should never happen to a centaur, but he couldn’t seem to resist her spell.

And that thought made him angry, gave him the fire to ask, “What does it matter to you if I shift or not? And what role in this twisted game do you play, Ice Queen?”