Night Vision (15 page)

I followed the ribbon of sound, entranced, summoned by the chant. Rounding curve after curve, I spiraled down inside the castle, totally enchanted. Wherever the song was leading me, I had to go. And deep inside, I felt a quake of fear—was I being snared into a siren song? But no, instinct answered. This was a journey I must take. There was no going back, and whatever lay ahead, I had to face.

I don’t know how long I walked, but I began to be aware of flutterings of spirits riding the wind beside me, following me as I passed. They collected behind me, ghostly formless wisps, in the shape of clouds and fog, of mist and dark shadows in the night. I wasn’t afraid of them—they meant no harm, but for some reason they latched onto me, this train of spirits.

After what seemed like hours, I came to a wall that
blocked the hallway. I paused, not knowing what to do next, but the song continued; the ribbon of chant insisted I go forward. I reached out to the ice that barred my passage, and the moment my fingers touched the surface, it fractured, as the drawbridge had, and fell away, shards exploding to the ground.

I gingerly stepped over the pile of broken ice and continued on, my ghostly caravan following. The passage went only another ten feet and then it opened out into a chamber so large that I couldn’t see the other side. The room was more like a cave, and great crystals thrust out from every direction of the walls and ceiling. The floor was rough and uneven here, and I cautiously skirted the treacherous spots, stopping by a crystal that was as large around as I was and easily fifteen feet long. Thinking it was quartz, I reached out to touch it, but my fingers slid over the icy surface and I realized that everything here was formed of the ice from this realm.

I picked my way through the jumble of icicles until I came to the center of the room, and there, on a dais, was an exquisitely carved box, formed from silver, with a cushion as white as a distant sun sitting inside it. The box was waiting for something, and I wasn’t sure what.

Beside the dais, a block of ice lay waiting, covered with a silver blanket and, beneath that, a fur rug. I stepped forward, knowing what I needed to do, even though I had no clue as to why I was doing it. I slipped out of my clothes, dropping them on the ground beside the dais, until I stood nude, my nipples standing at attention from the chill. I shivered, so cold I couldn’t feel my body, but then, the next moment, the spirits gathered around me and led me to the bed of ice, drawing back the blanket. I slipped beneath it onto the fur rug, and they gently tucked the blanket in around me.

As the song continued to play, I found myself drifting, deeper into trance, and the sound of laughter and clinking glasses echoed around me as I faded in and out of consciousness.

Sometime later, I woke, thinking I was back in my bed, but realized I was still in the ice chamber, still beneath the silver blanket. Worried—I’d never stayed in trance this long or this deep—I started to sit up but the spirits swarmed around me, gently pushing me back. I waited, now aware that this was real, not a dream. This must be part of the initiation.

Then
, a voice inside asked,
are you truly in this realm? Is this the heart of Winter?

Another sound slithered through the chamber, one that didn’t belong in the song. I craned my neck, trying to see what was going on, and sucked in a deep breath. Four Ice Elementals were headed my way. I struggled to sit up, but the spirits were stronger than I and they pushed me back onto the bed of ice. There was nothing I could do, nowhere I could run.

There will be no return from here out. No second chance either way.

The Elementals gathered at my bed, beings of ice, with no features on their chiseled faces. They were smooth, gleaming, beings carved from the very element that they embodied. What long thoughts hid behind their frozen visages? Did they feel? Did they love? Hate? Or did they simply exist on an alien plane? Somehow they seemed far more distant than Ulean, but then—perhaps, to others, she seemed just as aloof and cold.

They held out their hands over me—one at my feet, one at my head, one on each side, and a low vibration began to reverberate through the room. It echoed through the ice, echoed through the air, echoed through my body and set my teeth to chattering. I began to shiver and then to sweat. Afraid now, I tried to sort out what was happening. And then I noticed that the two Elementals on either side of me had their hands directly over my heart.

The heartstone. They’re creating my heartstone.

As soon as the thought raced through my mind, I knew
it was true, and I tried to stay as still as the grave. As still as ice.

Mist rolled from their fingers like fog off dry ice and began to fill the chamber. I focused on the lone icicle I could see hanging above me. Point down, it was directly above my heart, and a sudden fear swept over me. It was huge, and if it broke off and fell, it would pierce my chest. The icicle glistened, shimmering in the mist and fog, and I found myself unable to take my eyes off it.

The Elementals joined hands around me, and a low, deep baritone filled the air, vibrating through the chamber, as they began to chant. Their vocalizations ricocheted off the walls, and the crashing of ice shattered in response. Their voices joined the siren song that had lured me in, and the drumming grew stronger, tattooing itself deep into my mind until all I could hear was the pulse of rhythm, the sharp edge of the voices, the rise of melody. The Elementals’ chanting overlaid the sound, blending and weaving, until the entire world seemed to be made of ice and music and the chill blast of air that rolled in with the fog.

I realized that I was having trouble breathing—my chest felt tight, as if some invisible serpent were coiling around me, squeezing till I could barely think. My heart felt like it was expanding, with nowhere to go. I tried to calm myself, but now real fear took over, and I realized I could not move. The spirits and the mist were keeping me down, and the Elementals’ singing was hitting me directly in my heart chakra. A shift…and another…something was happening to me. I struggled, still unable to speak.

Trying to gulp air, I thrashed, lungs burning as they worked to break free of the constriction. And then, as the world began to waver and I realized I was dying, a light began to glow over my chest, a bright, intense, bluish light that was white hot at its center. It was emanating out of me, rising up in a flowing stream from my chest, and it crystallized as I watched, forming into a fist-sized blue faceted gem.

Breathing forgotten, I stared, mesmerized, as the gem
took on a life of its own. And then I knew. This was my heartstone. Whatever they were doing to me, it was creating the heartstone that would forever be a part of me.

As I relaxed, giving in to the sensation of death, a rush of wind blew through me and I began to spiral out of my body. In front of me was the shadow shape of a great owl. She was white, with black bands on her wings, and her eyes gleamed blue, like the ice of my heartstone. I gasped as she leaned forward and spread her wings. They were huge, and beautiful, and stretched out in a hush of whispers, waving a breeze before them. Every sweep of her feathers commanded the wind.

The owl pressed her head to mine, and I caught my breath as she blended into me, merging, melding, folding her wings around me only to have them disappear as they entered my body.

I am you. You are me. This is what you are becoming.

The owl’s thoughts became my own, as did her hunger and the dark pull to live under the moon rather than the sun. She was a predator, feral and fierce, but she was not evil—no, she was nature incarnate, the cycle of life in action. She let out a loud shriek as an agonizing pain hit me in the chest, stabbing so deep that I reeled back into my body. I opened my mouth and found my voice again as the owl’s shriek became my own, soaring through the chamber as the searing pain sliced me into ribbons.

The icicle on the ceiling shivered and then came crashing down. As the point aimed directly toward me, I screamed
“No!”
and it shattered into a thousand pieces, showering the Elementals and me with tiny shards of ice.

And then, as quickly as the pain had descended, and as long as it had lasted, with a sudden rush, it rolled back through my body like the sea, receding in a wave, and vanished in a single puff of mist. The Elementals stood back as I lay, spent and panting, on the bed. The spirits departed, and I was once again free to move.

As I slowly sat up, I glanced at my chest, expecting to see blood or a wound, but there was no sign of anything
amiss. And then, as I glanced over, the silver box caught my attention. In the center was a glowing sapphire, as brilliant and vivid as any stone I’d ever seen. It pulsed with my breath, it shimmered with my thoughts. And I realized, there, in the silver chest, was the core of my existence.
My heartstone.
And as long as it stood, barring accident or deliberate attack, so would I stand.

My heartstone.
I slowly sat up. Reaching out, I passed my fingers over it. With a glance at the Elementals, I went to touch it, but one of the glacial giants gently grabbed my wrist, stopping me. And then I realized—I must never touch the heartstone again, unless I wanted it to reabsorb into me as Lainule’s had reabsorbed into her. I withdrew my hand and nodded at the Elemental.

They stepped back, standing two to a side by my heartstone. I had the feeling I was supposed to do something now but wasn’t sure what. I hesitated, not sure if I should stand up. What had the ritual done to me? How had it changed me?

As I was debating, a soft sound caught my attention and I turned to see Lainule standing there. She looked different—and then I realized her hair was almost entirely auburn now, with golden highlights peeking through. Faint lines crisscrossed under her eyes. She smiled at me softly, though, and her eyes were luminous and moist, as if she’d been crying.

“Rhiannon—” It hit me that if I’d been going through this, so must have my cousin. “Is she okay?”

“She passed through the transformation. She is alive
and her heartstone lives. Now the heartstones must be hidden, and then the two of you will undergo your coronations. Twice morningtide has come and gone in this realm since you ventured here.”

“I thought our coronations were to take place on the Solstice?” Time in the Fae realms still confused me.

“And so they shall. In this realm, time passes at a different rate, just as it did when you entered my realm seeking my heartstone. Outside, in the Marburry and Eldburry Barrows, barely a moment has passed, and outside the portals, the same. Tomorrow night, you become the Queen of Snow and Ice, Cicely.”

She held out her hand and I took it, rising to my feet, if a little unsteady. I felt odd, different. As I steadied myself on the side of the bed, she handed me the silver gown and I slipped back into it.

“What does it mean, having a heartstone created out of you? I mean, how will it affect me?” There was so much I still didn’t understand or know, and I wondered if I’d ever fully comprehend what was going on.

But Lainule laughed, her voice rich and reverberating off the walls. “Trust. Trust that you can hold this post, wield this power, grow into your position. When I was first Queen, it was terrifying. I was petrified that I couldn’t meet up to the expectations. The Queen of Rivers and Rushes who came before me, she was brilliant and gracious and everyone loved her. I can never be as genial as she was, but we each must mold our rule around the person we are.”

“What was her name? And why…how did you become Queen?” I leaned on her arm as we walked along, still feeling weak and dizzy. Oddly enough, the cold of the cavern no longer fazed me.

Lainule let out a long breath. She ducked her head, then smiled again. “Her name was Iolie, and she was the morning sun. Everyone loved her. She ruled for…I have no idea how long. I came to the throne relatively young. She was old…old past counting. I know the names of the Fae Queens before her, but they are simply words against the
mists of time, now. Iolie was…stretched thin. When a Fae Queen lives for thousands of years, she begins to wane, little by little. Iolie lived so long she grew weary of life. She chose to reclaim her heartstone and return to the Golden Isle. She outlived her immediate heirs, but I was her great-great-great-great-granddaughter. And so I became Queen.”