And now as she stood in this alien landscape and called out to the east wind, exhausted in body and mind, she just hoped that whoever answered had a sleigh she could ride in as they continued their journey. That is, if he would help her continue her journey.
The air swirled around her. It rose to a frenzy that tore her hair out of its braid and whipped it around her face. Vongóð ur dropped his head and flattened his ears but didn’t shy. Rollo looked up, sighed, and staggered to his feet to stand protectively by his mistress’s side. The lass clung to the horse’s mane, closing her eyes against little icy particles of dirt or snow that blew into her face.
When the wind calmed, she opened her eyes, and the east wind was sitting on his throne.
The east wind didn’t look human, because it wasn’t human. It was a great swirling concoction of leaves and twigs and mist and smoke and rain and dust that at last collected into the shape of a wolf, sitting upright on the stone seat of the throne.
“Why are you here”—its voice howled and whispered and whistled in her ears, and a tendril of wind snaked out to tap up and down her body from head to toe and back again—“human maid?”
“You’re real,” she breathed, and could say nothing else for a heartbeat. When she found her voice again, she said, “I’m looking for the castle east of the sun and west of the moon.”
A great shudder racked the east wind. It flew to bits, and then gathered itself into wolf-shape once more. “Why would you want to go there?”
“I lived in the palace of ice with the prince who was an isbjørn. Because of me, he is being forced to marry a troll, and I wish to help him.”
“Mortal creatures are so strange,” the wind mused. “Here is another one looking for a human male she barely knows.”
“Did you help Tova?”
“I suppose that was her name. I carried her to the plain where dwells the west wind.”
This news made the lass’s shoulders sag. “So you do not know the way to the troll’s palace?”
“I have never blown so far, nor have I ever wanted to. The magic of trolls is an evil even the winds cannot defend against. You would do wise to emulate my neighbors: build a hut and abide where fate has taken you.”
“I can’t,” the lass said, shaking her head with vehemence. “I must find the palace. I must free the prince. I must.”
“Then all the help I can offer you is to carry you to the west wind.”
“Thank you.”
A huff of air blasted her hair straight back. “Will you still thank me later?” The form on the stone throne shivered. “No matter. We shall blow to the home of my brother.”
The lass sent Vongóður home at last. Rollo melted into the twisted trees and returned with feathers around his muzzle a few minutes later.
“You have some fine birds in your forest,” he complimented the east wind.
“I did,” the east wind replied.
“Sorry,” the lass said, hunching her shoulders in embarrassment. She gave Rollo a hard look.
“We can’t all live on bread and love,” he said.
“‘Love’? What do you know about love?”
“It’s at the heart of every story,” Rollo said with authority. “If humans could avoid falling in love, you would never get yourselves into any trouble.”
The lass closed her eyes for a long minute. Was she in love with the prince? Maybe. She had loved the isbjørn, in a way. And in a different way she loved her brother Hans Peter and wanted to help him. So it was for love that she was doing all this. But would she be happier if she just went home?
Could she live with herself if she did?
She opened her eyes. “Can we leave now?”
Being carried on the back of the east wind was a very strange experience. The writhing mass of twigs and leaves and wind and feathers and ice swooped down from its throne and lifted her high off the ground. She had not yet shouldered her pack, but when she looked back she saw that it and Rollo had been gathered up as well. Her wolf alternately howled in fear and growled to show how brave he was as they ascended. Up in the air the east wind gathered itself, a wolf the size of a ship running over the treetops.
The lass hovered, suspended, atop the wolf wind of the East. She stretched out her arms and leaned back, feeling it cradle her. It was like riding on the back of the isbjørn, only better. Now she truly was flying, free of the ground. She laughed.
The east wind surged forward, and the laugh was ripped from her throat. Beneath them trees whipped the sky and crops lay down. They passed over mountains and hills, whistled down fjords and over the sea. At one point the wind rose until it was swallowed up in clouds, churning and driving them like egg whites swirled with a wooden spoon. More ocean lay beneath them when the clouds dissipated, then beaches and forests and fields of wheat.
And then nothing.
Dirt. Sand. Cracked, dry ground on which the only growing things were scrubby little bushes that looked half-dead. The earth was red and the rocks were raw and jagged.
And then they were smooth.
As fantastical as the forest of the east wind had been, the west wind’s palace of living rock was stunning. Red and purple and gold stone had been twisted and shaped like clay. Great arches passed overhead, pillars, caves, hollows as smooth as a worn wooden bowl, filled with purple shadow that looked like water as the sun set. There were mounds of rocks like pillows, like mushrooms and beehives.
The east wind slowed here, and the lass was able to gape at the formations of stone as they passed over and around them. Soon they came to an open space like a great shallow bowl. Dozens of little whirls of sand and grit spun merrily about in the bottom of the hollow.
The wolf wind set the lass down and shrank until he was only slightly larger than an isbjørn. The stone bowl was blazingly hot, like being inside an oven. The lass shucked off her parka and boots and still sweat poured down her face, plastering her disarrayed hair to her neck. Rollo was panting, and he danced in place to avoid burning his paws.
The little funnels of grit danced together and became one giant spinning pillar of wind and sand. A dry, rasping voice issued from it.
“My brother East, what have you brought me?”
“A human who is looking for the palace east of the sun and west of the moon,” the east wind replied. “Have you ever blown that far?”
“Never!” The spinning column wavered and then steadied. “I have no dealings with the trolls.”
“I thought not,” the east wind said. “But she is determined to go. Can you help her? You have blown farther than I ever have.”
The west wind swayed back and forth in its hollow. “Why should I take this human anywhere? I do not meddle in the affairs of trolls. Perhaps the troll queen will hear of what I have done, and take her revenge upon me.” The column of wind shuddered.
The lass looked from one gathering of wind to the other. “The troll queen?”
“Her daughter is the princess who turns humans into northern bears, to toy with them before she marries them,” the west wind said. “But the queen is far more terrible: older and uglier, and wicked to her stone bones. No entity in this world dares to cross the queen of the trolls.”
The lass raised her eyebrows. “I do.”
“That is because you are nothing more than a foolish human child,” the west wind retorted.
“And you are nothing more than a rude little breeze, blowing sand in my eyes and quivering,” the lass snapped back. She had not come this far just to be turned away by a wind. “The princess, and the queen, must be stopped.”
“Then find someone else to help you, if you want to kill yourself,” the west wind said.
“Coward,” the lass said, without heat. She shook her head in a pitying way. “You won’t even blow me to the north wind’s home. I feel certain that such a strong wind as he would know the way, even if you don’t. And I have no doubt that he would take me all the way to the palace east of the sun and west of the moon.”
/> A little gust came from the west wind, as though it had snorted at her ploy.
“Well, that’s all right then,” the lass went on, hands on hips. “I’ve come this far without your help. I’ve been helped by three kind old human women, with little more than the clothes on their backs and more to lose to the troll queen than you. I’ve been helped by this good east wind, your brother.
“Your brother wind was convinced that you would help me. He said that you had blown far and wide, and would surely know the way. But he was wrong.” She put out a hand and stroked the back of the east wind, as though comforting it. “What a shame.” She shook her head. “Dear east wind,” she said in a fond tone. “You have been so kind, and blown so far to help me, I couldn’t ask you to help me go any farther. But could you at least direct me toward the domain of the north wind? Rollo and I shall walk there.” At her feet, Rollo groaned.
With a hiss and a scrape, the west wind shot up into a towering shaft of swirling sand. Then it collapsed, raging out to encompass the east wind, the lass, and Rollo, along with the stony desert around them. The wind howled through the rocks, picking up more grit and sand and scraping the surface of the rock formations with it. The force knocked the lass off her feet, and she huddled next to Rollo, burying her face in his fur to protect her eyes. She smiled into his flank, where no one else could see it.
“If you wish to take your chances with the north wind I’ll not stop you,” the west wind said. “But not even I know where he resides. The North is the greatest of us all.”
“Oh.” The lass had felt certain that the west wind would help her. But if it didn’t know the way. . . .
“But the south wind knows where our brother dwells,” the west wind continued. “They are forever chasing each other over and around the world. It may even be that the south wind has blown to the trolls’ palace. But if not, then South knows how to reach North.”
“Thank you.”
“We shall see if you still thank me in a week or a month or even a day,” the west wind grumped, echoing the east wind’s sentiments.
Chapter 26
Riding the east wind had been exhilarating, but riding the west wind was taxing. Trapped in a spinning column of sand, the lass felt as though she were falling, then being lifted up, only to plummet again. She wondered if the west wind were doing it out of spite, and fought the urge to be sick.
An eternity later, the west wind dropped her. She didn’t fall far, landing on all fours on a stone floor. When she recovered from the shock, she sat up and looked around.
She was in the ruins of a great palace. The rich stone carvings were crumbling, and vines had wormed their way between the cracks in the paving stones and up the sides of the square pillars. Animal faces and strange, squat human figures leered at her from between leaves the size of dinner plates.
A swirl of black earth, green pollen, and warm dew skirled through the ruins and languidly took the shape of an enormous bird of prey.
“What is that?” Its tone was ripe with disgust. “What is it doing here, Brother West?”
“This foolish human is looking for the palace east of the sun and west of the moon,” the west wind replied. His collection of grit and heat wafted across the broken floor tiles, exhausted.
The green-and-black bird shot in and around the pillars of the ruins in agitation, making a singing, whistling noise. “Never have I dared to blow there!”
Once again, the lass’s patience snapped. “I know, I know! Because you are afraid of the trolls! But I am not, and maybe that makes me a fool, but I don’t care. If you can’t blow me to the palace, at least blow me to the home of the north wind, and perhaps he will be able to help me.”
“It’s a temperamental little thing, isn’t it?” The south wind soared over and stroked the lass’s face with a moist, feathery breeze. “Humans are so odd.”
The lass flapped her hands in front of her face, trying to slap away the south wind in irritation. “Will you help me, or not?”
“I don’t see why I should.”
“Because somebody, somewhere, has to fight the trolls,” the lass said with vehemence.
“I don’t think there’s any need to be so hysterical about it,” the south wind said. “In fact, I think that you’re overreacting. It’s common among humans. The last human I carried was prone to breaking out in sobs and praying aloud for the safety of her lover.”
“Tova?” The lass had forgotten to ask the west wind if he had carried Tova.
“I didn’t ask,” the south wind sniffed. “I picked her up on my way to visit my brother north. She was sitting on a grassy plain, sobbing and tearing her hair.”
“I left the last human I carried sitting on a grassy plain, sobbing,” the west wind panted. “Did she taste of strawberries and snow?”
“Indeed she did!”
“You abandoned Tova in the middle of nowhere?” The lass kicked out at the west wind but failed to do any damage to it.
“She couldn’t go any farther,” it snapped. “She was not as hardy as you. She feared that she would perish.”
“I took her to our brother North,” the south wind sighed. “Though I do not know what happened to her after that.”
“If you didn’t mind taking her, then you won’t mind taking me,” the lass reasoned.
“Our brother may not approve of me dropping so many humans in his home,” the south wind said.
“I really don’t care,” the lass replied. “I think it’s despicable that the four winds—the great and powerful four winds—are all such cowards! The trolls are causing great evil, and you will do nothing to stop it!”
“But how can the evil of mortal creatures affect the wind?” The south wind’s tone was arch.
“If the trolls can’t harm you, why are you afraid of them?” the lass countered. Then something about the south wind’s words snagged her attention. “Mortal? I thought that the trolls were immortal?”
“The years tramp more slowly for them than for humans, and I have yet to hear of age killing a troll, but there are other things that can destroy them,” the west wind said. The south wind was swirling through the broken pillars again, apparently mulling over the lass’s words.
“Like what?”
“Powerful magic. Weapons of enchanted steel. Dragons.”
“Oh.” The lass had none of those things.
“Rest and eat,” the south wind said, winding through the ruins to make the lass’s skirts flap. “Tomorrow I shall carry you to my brother.”
“Thank you.”
Though stronger than the west, the south wind was far more pleasant. Warm, moist air scented with exotic flowers bore her up as dawn gilded the ruins of the ancient temple. Feeling as though she rode on a bed of soft moss, the lass closed her eyes as the south wind’s bird shape sped over mountains and valleys, crossed oceans, and wove between treetops.
Rollo was tucked up as he had been on their other wind journeys, but this time he would occasionally raise his head and lap at the moist air with his tongue. When she did open her eyes, the lass delighted in watching the play of dewdrops on her hands, seeing them bead up and then run up her arms as the south wind sped forward. Finally even that grew tiresome, though, and she closed her eyes and slept. The south wind bore her on and on, beyond a day and a night, until it was little more than a stiff, wet breeze that could barely hold its shape. With a last puff of effort, she was set down on the crest of a snowdrift as hard as stone.
“Brother,” the south wind called weakly.
The roar of the north wind blasted the snowdrift into a million sharp, cold diamonds, and the lass fell down and down, into a crevice of blue ice and white snow. Rollo landed heavily atop her, knocking the breath from both their bodies.
The north wind howled down the crevice, smashing the lass against a jagged wall of ice. She struck her head, and all went dark.
Chapter 27
When she woke, the lass found herself in a snow cave sitting propped up by a
chunk of ice. A pool of water as gray as steel reflected dim light onto the roof of the cave, and a walrus was lying beside the pool only a few paces away. It was big, and brown, and had long yellow tusks.
“If you scare away my fish, I’ll eat you and the wolf,” the walrus said. Then it heaved its ungainly body into the pool without causing a splash. The lass assumed that it swam out of the cave, because it didn’t resurface.
“Nasty temper,” Rollo said from his position at her side. “Nothing but threats and insults since the wind brought us here.”
“Which wind?”
“North. South was too weak.”
“Will the north wind help us, do you think?”
“It won’t talk to me,” Rollo huffed. “But at least it brought us in here and gave us our things.”
The lass realized that she was covered in the white parka, and various other items of clothing had been spread over her. She wasn’t sure if Rollo or the north wind was responsible, but she was grateful all the same. It was very, very cold.
Riding the south wind had dampened her clothes, and now they had frozen stiff. She stood up and quickly undressed, then yanked on the first things she could get her hands on. In the end, she had a nightgown on over an outer shift, but she didn’t care. There were layers of skirts and vests over that, and then the white parka. Besides, there was no one here to see her but Rollo and the walrus, and the walrus still had not returned.
The north wind arrived before the walrus did. A great whirl of icy particles whipped into the cave and tore at the lass’s clothes and hair. Before she could protest, it lifted her off her feet and carried her out of the cave, with Rollo and her pack as well. The wind dropped her just outside, near the water, and then pulled back.
Looking around, the lass felt her jaw fall open. She was not on solid ground. She was on a large sheet of ice and hard-packed snow, floating in a sea of other sheets of ice, mountains of ice, pillars of ice. That hadn’t been a little pond inside the snow cave earlier; it had been the sea coming through a hole in the floor.