Chapter 9|Cold
Shanis stared into the flames of the campfire, watching as the wood was consumed, reduced to ashes. She was stiff and suffering. Days of paddling had taken their toll. Her back ached, her hands were blistered, and her legs were stiff from lack of use. Gingerly she touched the bruises on her face, sustained when the canoe had capsized the previous day. The river had finally proven too much for the sturdy little craft. A jagged rock had smashed a hole in its bottom, sending its four occupants into the angry current. She thought her body had found every rock in the river on her way downstream.
They had finally come to a stretch of shallows where they were able to recover most of their belongings and make their way to shore. Thankfully, no one had been seriously injured, and they had spent the night and the next day sleeping in a thicket of pine near the river.
She had killed a man. How should she feel? Strangely, she didn’t feel anything. Shouldn’t she be upset? Feel guilty? Then again, didn’t he deserve to die for what he tried to do to her? For what he tried to do to Khalyndryn? She looked across the campfire to where the girl lay.
Khalyndryn was wrapped in a blanket, staring blankly at the fire while Oskar hovered over her like a grandmother. He was making a fool of himself, Shanis mused. Khalyndryn’s condition had not improved. Still in a stupor, she had been no help during the trip down the river. In fact, she had not even tried to save herself when they capsized. Shanis had been forced to drag the girl from the river to save her from drowning.
Hierm sat down beside her. He stared at the fire for a time without speaking. Finally he looked at Shanis. “How are you doing?” he asked tentatively.
Shanis shrugged. “All right, I guess.” She didn’t know what to say, but she appreciated Hierm’s concern. “How should I be doing?”
“Shanis, you shouldn’t feel bad,” Hierm consoled. “I mean, well, I don’t know how you should feel. But you did the right thing.” He fell silent again.
“I think what bothers me is that I don’t feel anything. Shouldn’t I feel something? Am I some kind of monster?” She felt Hierm’s hand gently touch her shoulder.
“I’m no expert, but it seems to me that a monster wouldn’t care enough to ask the question.” He didn’t say anything else.
“Thanks,” Shanis said dryly, “you’ve been a big help.” He had made his point, though. From the corner of her eye, she saw him grin ruefully. “No, really,” she reached up and grasped his hand in both of hers. Her voice softened. “You’re a good friend. Better than I deserve.” They sat that way for a long time, listening to the crackle of the flames.
Oskar appeared from the direction of the river. As the bulky youth dropped down next to them, Hierm yanked his hand out of Shanis’ grasp and hopped to his feet. Shanis looked up at him, failing to stifle a giggle. Men! Or boys, rather. Hierm looked embarrassed. He strode away quickly, and found a seat on the opposite side of the fire. He evidently found something interesting to study in the dirt, because he didn’t look up. Oskar’s gaze flitted from one to the other.
“Did I miss something?” The moon-faced boy frowned at Shanis and shook his head. “Never mind.” He looked up at the branches over their head, his eyes taking on a faraway cast, and he smiled.
“Can you believe it? We’re on an adventure. We rode a river and crashed and nearly died. Now we’re in a mysterious forest far from home. It’s all so…. I don’t know.” His gaze snapped back to Shanis, his eyes clear. “Did you see the Sai-kur?”
“Did I see what?” Shanis sat upright, suddenly nervous. What was a… whatever that word was?
“A Sai-kur. Some people call them Seekers. I saw one of them watching us from the forest just before we hit the rapids.”
“So he could be nearby?” Alarm rang in Hierm’s voice.
“I suppose,” Oskar said. “He was on the other side of the river though, and quite a ways back. Why? Do you think we should try and find him?”
“No,” Hierm said with a tone of finality. He did not elaborate.
“What’s wrong?” Shanis asked. “Are these… Seekers dangerous? If so, we should move on quickly.”
“Probably not,” Hierm said, shaking his head. “My mother always told me not to trust them, but she never gave a reason.” He shrugged. “Not that we would ever see one in Galsbur.”
“I was wondering something,” Oskar said, redirecting the conversation. “Where do you want to go?”
The question gave Shanis pause. She had not thought about anything other than getting away as quickly as possible.
“I don’t really know,” she mused. “I definitely want to get as far away from Galsbur as possible. How about that country with women soldiers? Hallind, isn’t it?” She had no idea how far away Hallind might be. “What about the two of you?”
Oskar shrugged. “I don’t care where we go,” he said with a bounce in his voice. “I want to see everything. I suppose Hallind is as good a place as any to get started. I’ll get my maps.” He sprang to his feet with surprising agility and strode purposefully to where their belongings lay. He returned with a bulky package wrapped in oilcloth. Unwrapping the bundle, he produced a sheaf of papers bound with string.
“These are all the things I’ve copied down from Lord Hiram’s books. Maps, stories, sketches...” He studiously bent to the pile and began furiously shuffling papers. “Where is it? Ha!” He flourished a folded sheet. Smoothing a place on the ground, he spread the paper in front of them. “This is a map of most of the known world,” he announced with pride.
Shanis frowned at the mass of lines, dots, and squiggles. She shook her head, and squinted, leaning closer to the paper, as if proximity were the key to understanding. “You’ll have to tell me what this all means. I can’t make sense of it.” She turned to Hierm. “Want to have a look?” The blonde youth thrust his palms toward the map, as if to keep it at bay. Oskar laughed. Shanis knew that Oskar could not comprehend Hierm’s lack of interest in all things scholarly.
Oskar pressed the tip of a thick finger into the center of the map. “This is home,” he stated firmly.
Shanis felt an aching in her chest at the thought of home. Was her father home yet? If so, had he heard about what happened? What did he think of her now? She forced down the memories, and returned her attention to Oskar.
“Here,” his finger traced a wavy line down the page, “is the Vulltu. I’d guess we’ve come about this far.” He pointed to a spot not far below Galsbur on the map. Shanis winced. “Don’t worry,” he assured her, “It’s farther than it looks.” He waited for her to nod, then proceeded. “Hallind is over here.” He pointed to an oblong shape on the far edge of the map. “We should move south to get out of Galdora as quickly as possible. Then, we’ll cut east across land. Hallind is an island nation, so we’ll have to book passage on a ship once we get to the coast!”
Hierm perked up. “A ship? You mean a big, wooden boat out in deep water? Not a chance. The canoe was one thing, but not a ship. I don’t like water so deep that I can’t see the bottom.”
“Come on Van Derin,” Oskar chided, “where’s your spirit of adventure? We’re going to see the world!” He swept his arms apart. “Think of all the things we’re going to see.” His round face shone in the semi-darkness.
“He’s right,” Shanis said, finding herself caught up in Oskar’s infectious enthusiasm. “Imagine the places we’ll see. We can go anywhere.” Something tickled the back of her neck. Absentmindedly she scratched at it and came away with the biggest bug she’d ever seen. With a shout, she furiously shook her hand. The insect fell into the fire, where it burned with a satisfying crackle. “Anywhere without bugs,” she added with a shiver. Someone giggled. She spun about, ready to confront the culprit but was stopped short.
Khalyndryn was sitting up. Her eyes were bright, and her laughter was carefree. “I thought you weren’t afraid of anything. I was sure of it.” The blonde girl stood and walked to the fireside where she sat down alongside Oskar.
The husky lad scooted aside to make room in front of his map. With a hint of self-satisfaction in his voice, he began going over the particulars with Khalyndryn.
Shanis cleared her throat. “I’m not afraid of bugs,” she said to no one in particular. “I just don’t like them.” She turned to Hierm, daring him to say anything. Her friend smirked, but held his silence. Wanting to change the subject, she sat down alongside Khalyndryn. “What are all these other places on the map?”
Oskar’s face split into a broad grin. He launched into a lengthy description of their part of the world. He shared his knowledge with such enthusiasm that even Hierm seemed to take interest.
The continent on which they lived was bisected by The Walls of Stone, a mountain range that ran from north to south in almost a straight line. Little was known of the lands to the west of the mountains. That side of the continent was sketched out in a rough semi-circle, with the words “The Lands West” written in the center. To the east of the mountains lay the lands that were more familiar.
To the extreme north was the kingdom of Halvala. Immediately to the south of Halvala lay Kyrin, and south of Kyrin lay Galdora. Both nations were landlocked, bordered by the mountains to the west, and the coastal nations of Cardith and Diyonus to the east. Galdora was bounded on the south by Lothan. Lothan, according to Oskar, was a “geographic nightmare of a nation,” comprised of hilly country in the west and swamps in the east.
The river Jorran ran south from central Kyrin through Galdora, and into Lothan, where it forked. The western branch cut through the hills of Lothan before emptying into the Great South Sea. The Minor Jorran, the eastern branch, fed the swampy lands that divided Lothan and Diyonus. Lying at the center of the fork lay Karkwall, the capital city of Lothan.
“Galdora is shaped funny” Khalyndryn exclaimed. Shanis frowned. “Look,” the fair haired girl pointed to Galdora. “It’s a rectangle. Why?” She turned an inquisitive eye toward Oskar, who beamed like a proud father.
“You’re right. Galdora isn’t like other countries. Other borders were determined over time, either by war or by the lay of the land. Galdora was formed by a committee.” Oskar bathed them in an expectant smile, and waited.
“All right, I’ll bite. What do you mean, formed by a committee?” Shanis rolled her eyes.
Oskar ignored her sarcasm. “For years, Kyrin and Lothan were at war with one another. Most of the time, they fought over the fertile land where the border between their countries lay. Although they would fight for any reason, sometimes no reason at all.”
“Sounds like someone I know,” Hierm kidded, elbowing Shanis. Shanis punched him hard on the shoulder.
“Finally, the Kings of Cardith and Halvala, and the Council of Diyonus, had enough. They decided to create a country that would serve as a buffer between Kyrin and Lothan. They left each country a bit of the farmland. The rest of it became Galdora.” Oskar traced the outline of their homeland.
“What about the people who lived there?” Khalyndryn asked. “Did anybody ask them if they wanted to be part of this new country?”
“They were just happy to finally have peace. A nation’s flag doesn’t mean much when your stomach is empty and you’ve seen nothing but death all your life.”
“I hate soldiers. All they do is hurt people.” Khalyndryn pulled her knees up to her chin, wrapped her arms tightly around her legs, and rocked in silent contemplation.
“Is that why Kyrinians hate Galdorans so much?’ Hierm queried.
Oskar nodded. “For years, the combined armies had to protect Galdora from invasion. Meanwhile, they put a Cardithian on the throne, and married him off to a Halvalan girl. They put a Diyonusan in charge of raising an army. In time, Galdora became strong enough to stand on its own.”
Something didn’t make sense to Shanis. “But why don’t we ever hear about war with Lothan? Shouldn’t they hate us just as much?”
“They’re too busy hating each other. Lothan has two distinct groups of people: the Malgog and the Monaghan. The Malgog live in the highlands. The Monaghan live in the swamps and wetlands. They’ve always feuded. Fighting with Kyrin kept them distracted, but once that wasn’t an option, they went back to fighting each other. There’s been civil war there ever since.
“Kyrin is a different story. It’s a landlocked country, like Galdora, and that’s always made relations with other nations touchy. Kyrinians hate Lothans because of their historical enmity, hate Galdorans because we took their land, and they hate the other nations for giving us their land.”
“What can they really do about it?” Hierm asked. They’re only one country against five.
“Four,” Oskar corrected. “Lothan isn’t going to fight anyone in its present state. But don’t underestimate Kyrin. Every boy grows up training to be a soldier. They are always ready for war.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Some even say that they’ve had dealings beyond the mountains.”
Suddenly, Shanis’ skin prickled and a shiver ran down her spine. “Did you feel that?” she whispered.
“What?” Hierm regarded her with a frown.
“I heard…no… I felt something.” She could not explain what it was, but it was very real. She was certain of it.
“What do you mean, felt something?” Hierm rose to his feet and looked around.
“Something is out there.” Shanis scanned the clearing, eyes straining to see beyond the perimeter of the firelight. The feeling was stronger now. Gooseflesh covered her arms. She cautiously climbed to her feet and drew her sword, which slid free of its scabbard with a metallic hiss.
“What is it?” Khalyndryn’s voice quavered. She clambered to her feet, and edged closer to the fire. “Where do you see it? I don’t see anything.”
Oskar and Hierm moved to either side of Khalyndryn. Firelight danced along the edge of Hierm’s blade. Oskar wielded a chunk of firewood, holding it aloft like a club.
Shanis senses screamed. Her body quaked and her breath was coming in gasps. What was wrong with her?
“Don’t be afraid.” The pleading tone of Khalyndryn’s voice belied her words of reassurance. “I’m sure it’s all right.”
“I’m not afraid. I’m cold.” Shanis had to clench her jaws to keep her teeth from chattering. She felt like she was back in the icy river. Had she taken ill?
“How can you be cold? The fire’s plenty warm enough.” Oskar kept his eyes on the dark forest around them.
“I don’t know, I just…”
The attack came from two sides at once. Large gray shapes hurtled out of the darkness with dizzying speed. Their bodies were vaguely human in form. Long, gangly arms hung from thick, powerful shoulders. Their barrel-like torsos ended in short, heavily muscled legs. They had feet and hands, but their fingers and toes ended in wicked looking claws. Their heads were roughly cat-like, shaped like that of a mountain lion. Their eyes, however, were startlingly human. Sleek, gray fur covered their entire bodies. Shanis took all of this in during the moment that it took for one of the creatures to cross the space between them and hurl itself at her.
Shanis ducked beneath the leaping creature, thrusting upward with her sword. A high pitched snarl pierced her ears, and something cold and wet splashed over her face. The sudden weight on her sword dragged her over backward as the monster flew past her. The snarl ascended to an ethereal scream as the creature fell into the fire. Shanis face and hair were singed by the cloud of sparks swirling about her. She yanked her sword free, scarcely avoiding the claws that flailed madly in the beast’s death throes.
Before she could turn around, something slammed into her side. Her sword flew from her grip, and she tumbled to the ground, falling heavily onto her face. She felt an oppressive weight on her back. Black claws shredded the loam on either side of her head. The creature hissed, its breath icy on the back of her neck. As suddenly as the creature had pounced on her, it was gone.
Spitting out a mouthful of dirt, Shanis forced herself up to her knees and looked around fo
r her assailant. What she saw made her gasp.
Oskar had forsaken his club and sat astride the beast’s chest, gripping its wrists, and struggling vainly to pin it to the ground. The monster’s rear legs kicked wildly, rending the back of Oskar’s cloak. It fought to break free, contorting like a snake pinned under a stick. Veins bulged in Oskar’s neck with the effort of holding it back.
Shanis quickly found her sword, and turned back to the fight. The beast had pushed Oskar back off of its chest, closer to the deadly talons that tipped its feet. Its powerful legs were flexed, poised to rip into the boy’s back. Shanis shouted in fear and anger and sprinted to her friend’s aid, all the while fearing she would be too late.
With unexpected suddenness, Hierm leapt from the shadows behind Oskar. His fair skin and hair gave him a wraithlike appearance in the dim light. With all the precision of a lumberjack, he struck with his sword across the back of the monster’s upraised legs, hamstringing the beast. It threw its head back and screamed.
Shanis quickly closed the gap, reversed her sword, and struck downward with all her might, plunging her blade through the beast’s throat and burying the point of the weapon in the soft soil below. The creature’s thrashing slowed until it finally went limp as its life drained away.
Oskar rolled off the beast, and crawled a few paces before crumbling to the ground in a heap. Shanis hurried to his side. The boy’s breath came in sobbing gasps. Gingerly, she drew back the tattered remains of his cloak. To her relief, he had somehow avoided injury. The beast’s claws had cut his clothing, but had not penetrated his skin.
Hierm appeared at her side. “Is he all right?” Hierm asked.
“I think so.” Shanis laid a gentle hand on Oskar’s shoulder. “Oskar?”
With a groan, Oskar rolled over onto his back. “Am I dead?” He spread his arms out, and lay gazing up at the canopy of branches that enveloped them. “I definitely feel dead.”
Shanis felt a surge of affection for her this big, clumsy boy who had risked his life to save her. Grasping his shoulders, she hauled him up into a sitting position, and clenched him in a crushing embrace. “You’re not dead, you big oaf. You should be, but you’re not.” She felt Oskar’s arms tentatively encircle her. “You have got to be the biggest fool in the world.”
“Van Derin,” Oskar groaned, “next time I decide to save her life, remind me of the thanks I got for it.” Shanis drew away from her friend and punched him in the shoulder, eliciting a satisfying grunt.
Khalyndryn appeared at Hierm’s side. “Are you hurt?” she whispered.
“I don’t think he’s injured at all,” Shanis replied. “He’s just…” She suddenly realized that Khalyndryn was not asking about Oskar. The blonde girl was running her fingers through Hierm’s hair, cooing softly to him like a mother bird.
“I’m fine,” Hierm pushed her away, not gently. “You should be worried about Oskar.”
Khalyndryn’s face puckered. Her lower lip thrust forth. “I was concerned about you, that’s all. Shanis was already seeing to Oskar.”
“Khalyndryn, you’d better pull that lip in before a bird lands on it,” Shanis jibed. With a loud sob, Khalyndryn whirled and ran away.
“Now you’ve done it,” Hierm reproved. His grin contradicted the words. “I’ll go and see to her.” He turned and paced off into the darkness.
Shanis turned her attention to the creature she had slain. A chill ran down her spine as she knelt down alongside it. She reached out tentatively to touch its silvery gray fur. With an audible hiss she drew her hand back. The creature was ice cold!
“What is it?” Oskar’s head appeared over her shoulder. “Is it still alive?”
“It’s cold,” Shanis replied, rubbing her hand. “I’ve never felt anything like it. Just being close to it gives me the chills. And the smell… it’s like winter air. So icy it almost hurts.
Oskar squatted down next to her. He reached out a tentative hand to touch the beast. He tapped it, instantly drawing back as if it were a hot stove. A frown creased his brow. He again touched the creature, prodding it. He turned back to Shanis.
“Why do you say it’s cold? The body is still warm.”
“Not funny, Oskar. The thing nearly gave me frostbite.” She hopped to her feet and moved closer to the fire, leaning precariously close to the flames as if its meager warmth could seep into her frozen bones. “What is that thing, anyway?”
“I don’t know,” Oskar replied. “But I’m not fooling. It’s warm. You can feel it yourself if you don’t believe me.”
Shanis turned back toward Oskar. His deep brown eyes stared directly into her own. His broad face was a firm mask of sincerity. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” He nodded. Baffled, Shanis returned to her friend’s side. She gingerly extended her hand toward the lifeless corpse. Again an icy cold gripped her and she yanked her hand back.
“You didn’t even touch it.”
“Look,” she thrust her hand in front of Oskar’s face. She drew back the sleeve of her tunic to reveal a forearm covered in chill bumps. “It’s freezing. It’s so cold I can’t even put my hand to it. I don’t know what you’re…” Her voice trailed off as she looked down to see Oskar stroking the fur of the cat-like monster.
“I believe you,” he said. “But I’m telling you, it isn’t cold.” He did not say it, but the thought was evident in his eyes. Creatures of ice… The possibility, however remote, was unthinkable. Did he truly think the creatures were warm-blooded, or did he only want them to be?
The sound of approaching footsteps drew her away from frightening thoughts. Hierm appeared with Khalyndryn in tow. He nodded to the blonde girl, who looked down at the ground for a moment before speaking.
“I’m sorry,” she began. “Oskar, is there anything I can do for you?” The stout boy shook his head. “I’m glad none of you are hurt. I’ve had a difficult few days…” Her delicate fists scrubbed at the tears that spilled down her cheeks.
Something inside Shanis ached for this pitiful girl. She stood and wrapped her in a tight embrace.
Khalyndryn lay her head on Shanis’ shoulder. “I wish I were strong like you,” she sobbed.
“It’s going to be all right,” Shanis whispered. “You are much stronger than you know.” Shanis was surprised to realize that she really meant it. Her heart held a tender spot for this spoiled, silly girl, who had endured so much in such a short time. They clung to one another for a moment longer. Shanis gave the blonde girl a firm pat on the back, and drew back a step, clasping her shoulders. “Can you see to the tent and our supplies? Make certain everything is all right?”
Khalyndryn nodded, and slipped away quietly.
Hierm and Oskar were inspecting the corpses of the slain beasts. Shanis joined them.
“Do you think we should stay here tonight?” Hierm’s eyes searched the waves of inky blackness that strained against the flickering light of the campfire. “There could be more of them.”
“I think we should stay,” Shanis replied after a moment’s thought. “If there are more of them, I’d sooner be here by the fire than out there.” She pointed into the darkness of the forest. The boys nodded their agreement. “We’ll build up the fire and take turns keeping watch.”
“What about these?” Oskar nodded at the dead animals. Alive in his eyes was a duel between his evident fear and unquenchable curiosity.
“Let’s drag them away from the camp. Perhaps their friends will think twice about coming after us.” Shanis hoped she sounded more positive than she felt. Whatever their attackers were, they didn’t look like beings who thought about much beyond killing.
Shanis took the first watch. She added fuel to the fire, and sat down cross-legged with her back to the cheery blaze. The light ruined her night vision, she knew, but she needed its warmth. The chilled feeling had not left her body. She shuddered at the memory of cold breath on her neck. A shuffling sound caught her attention, and she leapt to her feet, hand on the hilt of
her sword.
“May I sit with you for a while?” Khalyndryn asked. Without waiting for an answer, the girl sat down near the fire. Shanis stared blankly for a moment, then joined her by the fire. Khalyndryn smiled at her, a thin, tight grin. “I’m not brave yet,” she whispered, “but I want to be.” She reached out her hand to Shanis, who clasped it tightly in hers. Silently, the girls turned to face the darkness of the night together.