Fantasy of Frost (The Tainted Accords Book 1) (8 page)

The pattern is the same for the next fourteen days. Wake, climb, eat, climb and sleep. Where I used to liken myself to the Kaur tree, I now see more of myself in the Oscala. The air grows darker. The orange glow from my world is gone, I have no way of knowing which way I would turn to go to Glacium or Osolis. Rocks surround us on all sides, I only know up and down. The air has gotten steadily colder. A few mornings ago my breath had formed into a cloud in front of my face. I always looked forward to the physical exercise of the day to exhaust me, but now I also depended on it to keep me warm. This provided a new obstacle to sleeping, though it was already restless due to my constant nightmares. I knew I was keeping the other delegates awake.

I also had a chance to study the delegates. The only anger remaining in me now after two weeks or more on Oscala, was the slow burn of revenge. I had begun obsessing over which delegate shot the arrow. I had spent hours studying each of them. Blaine would have been the obvious choice, but this was what made me disregard him. The real killer would surely not be
acting
like a killer, though there did not seem to be any suspicion or talk as to a killer being in their midst. It had been dark and the arrow head had been gone, likely they had not spotted the Bruma wood of the arrow.

Blaine’s main supporter, Sole, was my next choice. But on closer inspection, I decided he lacked the necessary backbone. He couldn’t stand up to Blaine’s continual insults and orders, let alone find the guts to kill someone.

I walk between Malir and Rhone at the front of the line and accept a water skin from Adnan.

There were three groups. One I liked, who followed Malir. One led by Blaine, and another group who seem to change their minds constantly between Malir and Blaine. I wondered if this had always been so, or if it was because of Kedrick’s death. Being Prince, he would have been the assumed leader.

None of the delegates carried weapons apart from one knife each. This was a condition of the treaty though, which I remembered from my lessons. However, each man also carried a large pack on their backs. It would not be hard to conceal weapons in this and then leave the murder weapon on Osolis.

I should have asked Kedrick more about the delegates during his stay. I didn’t know their roles on Glacium, and could not guess at what motives they might have. Did Blaine want to war with Osolis? Assassinating me would definitely help to start one. I run my hand over crumbling rock, and duck underneath an overhang.

Kedrick’s death could very well start a war. With his death and my capture, we would already be tittering on the brink of a war.
The thought of having to redo all the hard peace work of the previous royals over the last one hundred years is a sobering thought. Briefly, I remember Kedrick’s and my own passion on this subject before shaking the thought away.

I walk across a rope bridge, which sways side to side dangerously, making my stomach lurch. I keep my eyes straight ahead.

War or not, I would not be returning to Osolis until the Bruma who killed Kedrick was destroyed. I owed him this much, and so much more for his sacrifice.

I have taken to sifting through my memories of Kedrick to distract me from the monotony of our journey. Today I’m trying to remember his face. I imagine his half smile and his vibrant blue eyes and put him in my favourite place. We are in the meadow and it’s the middle of the day. The grass is still long and making its quiet rustle. We don’t have to hide. A lump rises in my throat.

“Malir, may I ask you something?” My voice crackles from disuse. The heads closest to me jerk at the sound, obviously curious as to what I want to know. I have not spoken more than a couple of sentences the whole journey.

Malir nods his head, not taking his eyes off the rope hanging between this shelf and the next. He tugs it firmly to check it is still strong enough to hold our weight.

“What happened to Kedrick’s body?” I have no idea what happened after I blacked out. This had not bothered me to start with, but I found myself more and more bothered by what had happened afterwards. I wanted to know all of the facts. Maybe I could glean something from their recount to help me narrow down my list of delegates.

“We moved him into the forest and covered him with branches,” Malir says, turning from the rope to look at me. His voice is direct as always, but perhaps a little regretful.

I nod my thanks to him. He didn’t need to answer my question. I still had not answered any of their questions about Kedrick at all.

If Kedrick’s body was on the way to Aquin’s, maybe Olandon or Aquin would come across it and give him a decent burial. I shove thoughts of animals eating him and of his body decaying in the woods from my mind and focus on swinging one arm in front of the other along the rope to cross between the shelves.

My breath clouds in front of my face the whole night. I’m the coldest I have ever been in my life, my thin robes are not meant for this temperature. I shiver and wish for another blanket. The men’s snores and breathing go on as usual, comfortable as ever.

It is a long night.

Adnan approaches me the next morning as I sit rolling up the blanket which did nothing at all for me last night. He holds out a pack to me. Confused and a bit curious, I take it from him. Seeing my darker skin next to his white skin reminds me of how Kedrick’s hand and mine used to look when next to each other. Forcing this aside, I look inside the pack and find clothing.

“It was Kedrick’s bag,” he says. “They will be big on you, but they’ll be warmer than what you have on.” He gives a small smile and returns to the other men.

I’m so exhausted, I almost cry in gratitude. I unpack Kedrick’s clothes and pull them on under my robes, rolling the legs and sleeves of the garments several times over. I pull the edge of his tunic to my face, disappointed when his smoky scent is not on it. The boots are too large for me to wear, but I cannot bring myself to leave them behind, so I put them back into the pack with my robe and the arrow end. My sleeping gear is stuffed on top. Rhone has been carrying my blankets until now. I stand up, shouldering the pack.

Another day passes and I’m grateful for the clothing as my nose and ears begin to ache with the cold. The temperature drops even further towards the end of the day and I find the rocks are becoming slippery and treacherous. My sandals don’t provide enough grip on the surface. Rhone catches me for the fourth time, and Malir shakes his head at my shoes. I glare at him under my veil. They should have thought about boots when they took me hostage. My mood worsens over the remainder of the day. By the time we reach the next cave I decide I have never looked forward to bed more.

I’m sitting on my sleeping gear when the young orange-haired delegate called Sanjay walks over to my spot. He pulls a knife from his boot and I tense. He notices this and chuckles.

“There are a lot of cleaner ways to get rid of you out here.”

I stare at him. Did he really just say that? He gestures at my shoes. “I have come to have a look at those sandals of yours. They aren’t any help in the ice and you’ll be taking a flying lesson if we do not change them.”

Despite my uncertainty at his odd comment, I shove my shoes into his hands, saying, “I had thought to wrap some material from my Solati clothing around them and perhaps tie them to my legs.”

He taps his chin. “That may work, but the spare material from your trousers will work better still. And maybe we can use some of the boot that you have in your bag also.” He calls Adnan over who takes both shoes eagerly, discussing ideas with Sanjay, who nods occasionally.

I hesitate, brooding over his intent to ruin Kedrick’s belongings. I pick at a loose thread on the borrowed trousers I wear.

“Sanjay,” I begin. He turns to me with raised brows, surprised I know his name perhaps.

“These are not my belongings and I do not wish to tear them up without permission,” I say.

“But they were Kedrick’s clothes. How is he going to give you permission?”

I swallow hard and do not answer. Adnan elbows him in the ribs.

“Tatuma, it is a sad truth, but a truth nonetheless. Kedrick doesn’t need these clothes where he is.”

I gasp at his callousness. “You are very….straight forward,” I say.

He rubs his head. “Yes. It was hard for me on Osolis. Though my wife will rejoice at my new restraint.”

My eyebrows raise. If this is him showing restraint, I’m glad I did not know him before. I pass him Kedrick’s boots with a heavy heart.

I watch him work, surprised at how deft he is with his hands. After a while I tell him so.

“My wife would agree with you,” he says, sniggering a little. He cuts this off at a growl from Malir.

Sanjay turns to me. “I work with Adnan on Glacium. Adnan thinks up the ideas, but lacks the masculinity to actually make them.” Rhone snorts over his food. We all turn to look at Adnan who is eating across the cave. He looks up, suspicious at our sudden attention.

Sanjay continues, “It’s exciting to work with something again. Even if it is Kedrick’s smelly boots.” I giggle against my will. His sense of humour is terrible.

“That is the first I’ve heard you laugh on this holiday.”

The giggle sounds again. “A holiday! You’re jesting.”

“Yes, well, maybe a forced holiday for you.” He chuckles as he holds up the boots in front of him. He has somehow combined my sandals and Kendrick’s boots and he did not need the extra material from my Kedrick’s clothing either.

“I don’t know how you made this with only your hands and that knife, but I thank you,” I say, nodding at him.

“No problem.” He scratches his ear as his face turns red. I grin at his awkwardness. He is similar to Aquin in this way.

I wake up to Adnan shaking my shoulder. My hands fumble to make sure my veil is on and I sit upright. I didn’t have any nightmares last night. Seeing everyone is nearly ready, I throw my belongings in my pack. Rhone passes me some food and I munch on it as we leave the cave. It is getting windy now and I tuck my veil beneath the high neckline of Kedrick’s tunic.

I look around with awe, taking in the layer of white sticking to the shelves. Adnan tells me it is frost. We begin our climb once more and I quickly ascertain my new makeshift boots are far superior to my sandals in this slippery terrain. I listen, smiling on occasion as Sanjay teases Adnan about this or the other. Adnan puts up with his comments with suffering patience, never rising to his baiting. They are obviously close.

Soon after our lunch, the line comes to a stop and a cheer goes up from the front of our group. I nudge Sanjay aside and get my closest ever look at Glacium. It is so bright, I squint my eyes a little. It almost looks like there is a ring of light around it because the glare is so strong. I stare until my eyes water, but I cannot see beyond the blinding light at this distance.

My heart lifts at the sight of something other than the Oscala, which is odd considering I’m a prisoner. The sameness of the shelves had been starting to make me see things. One day I thought I had seen a Tellio, and had looked back to find it was a crack in the rock. Another day I had seen a flash of red, blinked my eyes and been met by the same dark sky I had been looking at for weeks.

Blaine brushes past me, forcing me off balance. I stumble, but regain my footing and look up seeing the line has started moving again.

“Watch out, Solati,” he hisses. I glare at his back. Sole shuffles past me, not meeting my eyes. Three men behind him pass me, ignoring me completely, which I don’t mind. The two men at the back, Roman, and another whose name I do not recall, gesture for me to walk in front of them. They have been sitting with Malir lately.

Though Glacium has been sighted, the weaving pathway through the shelves triples the distance. We continue our careful journey over the icy islands, crawling over unstable bridges and, my least favourite, jumping between the shelves. We slow as we near a large vertical rock face.

Foot holds have been cut into the rock face and a large rope spans the length of the wall, coiling in a pool at the bottom. Malir goes first, leaning back into the rope and propping his feet onto the rock. He walks his feet up the wall using the foot holds.

Men slowly trickle up. I stand by the coil of the rope, well out of the way of the five hostile men who are still at the bottom with me. I do not feel entirely safe now most of my allies are at the top of the cliff. Dropping my pack, I pick up the end of the rope lying in the coiled heap and loop it a couple of times around my left wrist while keeping a covert eye on the group of men. I will use the rope as a weapon if I have to.

Sole starts up the cliff face. Two of the men who ignore me, fill their skins with water from the melting frost which drips off the rock face. I debate whether I should drop the rope and fill up my own skin, when a scream of absolute terror sounds from above me.

I whip my head up to see Sole is falling backwards, his grip on the rope lost. My mind traces the path he will take, realising he will overshoot the ledge we stand on. As it has in the past, my body is reacting before I can process what is happening. Rope in hand, I launch myself off of Oscala’s ledge into nothingness. For a moment I just float.

My mind catches up with my body as I crash into Sole, wrapping my legs around his waist.  Flying fists smack me in the face.

“Hold tight to me, Sole,” I scream, desperate to reach him through his terror. Sole’s arms tighten around me, forcing my breath out.

I have a stricken instance where I remember the rope is coiled around my left wrist. I grip the rope above it with my other hand a moment before the rope jerks to its end.

There is a loud snap.

Agony rips up my arm. I scream, fighting to stay conscious through the pain. Remember Sole is here, don’t faint. I try to shift my arm, but it has lost its power. The only thing holding us up is my right arm and the coils gripping my arm. Bile rises at the back of my throat.

I swallow hard and look side to side.

We won’t be able to swing to another shelf. I know I won’t be able to pull us up. I tilt my still swimming head back. The rest of the group is not visible past a rock jutting outwards from the underside of the rocky surface. We dangle in space, neither of us talking. My legs start to shake with the effort of holding onto Sole.

I nearly lose my stomach when the rope jerks suddenly, but I realise in the next moment that we are moving upwards. The other delegates are pulling us up. I hold in screams from the pulling on my wrist, but am unable to stop a groan escaping. I try and pull upwards with my right side, to take some weight off the left arm, but I’m not strong enough with the weight of Sole’s heavy frame combined with mine. Black dots fill my vision every time the rope is heaved.

We move up past the jutting rock. I hear a cheer as the delegates see us. Chin to my chest, my only focus is on not losing consciousness before we reach the top. I open my eyes and see Sole has his head back and is watching me with a look of complete terror.

We have only ten more metres.” His voice shakes. I don’t know if he is trying to encourage me or if he is pleading with me to hang on.

“What is a metre?” I gasp.

“A metre is what you call a stride or pace,” he says.

“Why are we talking about this?” I mutter, mainly to myself.

He laughs a bit hysterically. “I don’t know.” He laughs some more. His hysteria sets off my own and I giggle a little, which sets him off again. We both laugh with our heads thrown back.

We are still this way as we are pulled over the edge by a group of frantic delegates.

“Watch…her shoulder…and wrist.” Sole gasps between aftershocks of laughter.

Ignoring our lunacy, they pull me onto my back and Sole is hauled over my head. Rhone picks me up and moves me away from the ledge. My laughter dries as I look at my left wrist. I begin to feel my shoulder also, now that the pulling on my wrist has stopped. My wrist looks and feels exactly like a hand would if you attempted to pull it from the rest of the arm. The black spots begin again now that Sole’s hysterical laughter is not distracting me.

Rhone moves to grab my arm and I shake my head, taking a deep breath through my nose.

I slowly uncoil the rope, doubling over a little in pain as blood circulates down to my wrist. A small whimper escapes me. The arm appears burnt from the elbow down where the rope has rubbed off the skin. My wrist lies at a weird angle to the rest of my arm. My shoulder is not where it should be. Nausea bubbles in my stomach at the sight. My right arm seems alright, apart from a similar raw, burnt look on my palm from the rope being pulled through too quickly.