His Frozen Fingertips Read online

  “What’re you doing?” the man next to Asa asked, sounding insulted. Thin-plucked eyebrows furrowed as he stared Asa down.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t use the cutlery provided,” Asa said, trying to sound polite.

  “And why not?” The man’s tone was raised so that the whole room could hear them.

  “I never learned.” Asa’s voice was proudly steady, though he shrank backwards at the loud words.

  “You don’t have the right to eat in the queen’s kitchens if you cannot use a simple foonif,” the man growled.

  “I was invited here,” Asa protested, looking around for Avery, who happened to be deep in conversation with an old lady about weaving. No, he couldn’t make Avery fight all of his battles for him. Besides, this may not even be a battle. “It is my right to eat here, same as the rest of you.”

  “Coming here from up north, are you? Such ideas from a mere northerner!”

  “Are you quite finished?” Asa asked. “I’ve had just about enough of this.”

  “No, I’m not finished . . . You looking for a fight?”

  “No, I’m not.” Asa cracked his knuckles. “But if it comes to it then I am more than willing.”

  “You hold up your fists?” The older man spat on the table, leaving a glistening pool of saliva. “Fists’re for the lame and the weak. You either of those, boy?”

  “Yes,” Asa said, after a pause. “Yes I am. Are you yet finished?”

  “He may not be, but you certainly are.” A dark shadow blocked the torchlight from Asa’s eyes. He squinted up, seeing the haughty countenance of Clement Kean staring beadily at him. “Asa, Avery, you are to set off as soon as you are able.”

  They set off together out to the stables as rapidly as they could. Asa was in an odd state of mood, sensitive to the smallest of noises. Each creak and crack of the ancient palace sent a shudder of anticipation down his spine, a shot of pure adrenaline straight to his heart. Kean was more silent than usual, striding ahead so that only his coattails were visible as he rounded the sharp corners.

  They passed the door through which they had exited the city of Jundres, but Kean shook his head and pulled them on. He opened one door, and another, then a third. Lastly, he fitted a large key into a wrought iron gate that divided the corridor. Through this there were stairs winding upwards into inky blackness. They were old, made from warped wood and hand-made nails of dubious quality. Avery kicked the dried body of what seemed to be a rat out from under his feet. Asa stepped gingerly over the husk and, looking upwards, began to follow Kean who had started the climb.

  Climbing many stairs is a difficult endeavour at the best of times. When coupled with unusual shoes, and such darkness, Asa found it impossible. His old shoes were bulkier and these thin-soled counterparts gripped the wood much more tightly, forcing his body weight to act in odd ways. The walls were closely hugging him on either side, growing narrower the higher they climbed. Kean slipped between the close walls, as slender and graceful as an elf. Asa and Avery, however, struggled along ten steps behind, the palace not designed for their stockier bodies. After a few breaths of climbing, they reached a gap. The passage was brighter here; they could see cold light outside of the thin opening. Kean stepped through.

  “I’m not going to fit,” Avery said, eyeing the gap resignedly.

  “Avery, you know that you must. There is no other way.”

  “You go first.” Avery stood to the side on the stairs, letting Asa through.

  Asa squeezed past his friend and reached the crevasse. It was as wide as his forearm was long. “Wish me luck.”

  Avery moved closer to him. They could smell the fresh air, feel it on their faces. It was thinner, colder than the Jundres air. Asa let it energise him.

  “Here I go.” He turned to the side and shuffled through the opening. Staggering out into the open space beyond it, a wave of freezing air cut into his body.

  “Wait for me,” Avery said, trying to fit himself through the gap. “No, not going to happen. This is hopeless.”

  “Time to lay off the pies, Avery.”

  “Hush.” His friend rolled his eyes.

  After some grunting and pushing, Avery sucked in his stomach and chest and squeezed sideways through the opening, extending his arm so Avery could pull him through.

  “You nearly tore my arm out of its socket,” Avery huffed, holding his shoulder.

  “It was either lose an arm or remain stuck there for days until you dropped a few pounds,” Asa said, laughing at his friend.

  The snow outside the opening was freezing and bit at Asa’s skin as he scooped up a handful. Unlike ice, it packed into the shape of his hand, giving Asa an idea. Instead of shoving it down Avery’s tunic, he made a clod of the white substance and threw it at his face.

  “Asa!” Avery exclaimed, covered in melting powder. “You’re a real stinker, that’s what you are.”

  Asa laughed and ducked as a similarly made missile was thrown at him. Within a few throws they were covered in ice crystals. Asa thought that the cold suited his friend. The burning ice turned his cheeks, nose, and the tips of his round ears a delicate shade of pink. He knew, though, that he looked the same. They both stood for a moment, laughing at their appearances.

  “Where in Eodem have you two been?”

  Kean was glaring at them from the pathway beyond the rock face that covered Jundres. Asa hid a grin as he realised that they had been scrapping on the ground like a couple of six year olds.

  “Here,” Avery said sanguinely.

  “I can see that, thank you.” The thin man’s eyebrows knitted. “What I wanted to know was why you were not over there, where I was?” He pointed along the path to what seemed to be a small, snow-covered village.

  “And here it begins,” Asa said, surprising even himself with the prophetic sound of his words. They walked down the cleared path in the snow into the midst of the buildings. It was only once he saw the horses that Asa gave a small gasp. They were stables.

  The buildings were decorated in white and gold, stall doors half open in the morning light. Asa inhaled the fresh-scented air, needing, thirsting for it. He heard the clack of hooves on stone, the sharp whinny of a well-bred horse. Stable hands shot about in their white and gold uniforms, looking harried by the stresses of a strict schedule that was painted on a sign in the middle of the yard. He could not help but think them lucky. They lived in the air and land whilst those below in Jundres dwelt in that tragic destitution.

  “Excuse me?” Asa asked a passing servant, a young woman with her hair scraped back into two impossibly tight and neat buns.

  “Yes?” she replied, sparing him not even the briefest of glances. “What is so important that you wish to take some valuable moments out of my already over-shared time?”

  “I am from Queen Ria,” Kean declared. “He deserves your time. He is the one.”

  Asa blushed and would have said something, but modesty stayed his tongue. She spared him a longer look this time, grey eyes catching on their maroon uniforms. Her jaw slackened a degree and she fell back a step.

  “Yes.” It was a statement this time, a fact. “Yes, yes of course. Follow me and I will show you to the horses.”

  Asa and Avery fell into step behind her as she scurried across the golden horse yard to a small side gate. She pulled it open and held it for them, urging them through and shutting the door behind Kean. The paddocks and stables were wooden here, not gold. The horses were calmer and the air held a sense of peace along with the heady scent of the grass and snow. They passed several full paddocks of grazing horses in the frost, from blanketed racing steeds to hardy plough horses. Several foals shared one pasture with their anxious mothers.

  At last she paused at a small block of stables on the outskirts of the outer edge of Jundres. It was tucked into the land with six medium-sized stalls and a small meadow. Three horses were out on the snow-covered grass, coats brushed until they glistened where the watery sun fell upon them. Three stalls, howeve
r, were occupied.

  The first they came to held a slender, red-coated horse. She had large, dark-lashed eyes and a striking blaze down the middle of her dished face. She wore a maroon blanket embroidered with the letters NRB.

  “This is Neasa,” the stable hand crooned, stroking the chestnut. “One of the best in our stables. She’s fast, intelligent too. Not a single rider has fallen from her.”

  “What does her blanket say?” Asa inquired, coughing into his sleeve.

  “Neasa of Royal Belonging.” The servant smiled. “Most of the best horses have that affix. It is a seal of our queen’s approval and shows that they are of only the best bloodlines.”

  She gave the horse a wistful pat, running her hands along her glossy neck. Neasa’s ears perked and she moved closer to the stable hand’s touch. The young woman caressed the white blaze with careful fingers. She gave Neasa a final stroke and turned away, that sad smile lingering on her lips.

  “She’s mine.” Avery raised a hand, as they passed an empty stable. “Neasa, I mean.”

  Asa glared at him. “This isn’t a contest. I’m sure mine will be just as splendid.”

  They came to one of the middle stalls, which was occupied by a beautiful black horse, in everything but coat the image of Neasa. She swished her tail and peered interestedly out at the newcomers. Her eyes were remarkably pale for a horse, a washed-out grey.

  “This would have been your mount. Her name is Elizaveta,” their guide said, looking piercingly at Asa. “But she went over on a rabbit hole last week and is currently on stable rest. A great mount, as brilliant as her sister.” She gestured towards Neasa’s stall.

  “Pity,” Asa sighed.

  They approached another stable and its occupant leaned over the door and whinnied. Asa maintained his smile but his heart dropped. They weren’t the most handsome of steeds.

  “This is Freda.” The stable hand shrugged. “She’s—good.”

  “Is that it?” Asa joked, shaking his head.

  “She is quite good. She’s shy and not much of a looker, but she’ll do for riding.”

  The skewbald nickered to her new rider, backing away from the door into the depths of her stall. There was a clatter as she kicked her food bowl. Asa noticed that her irises were different colours. One was a warm brown and the other sparkling blue. She swayed her head out of the door, glancing out onto the meadow. She was most average looking for a pony, almost ugly. Yet there was something about her, something in that dancing blue eye. Freda had fire within her. She looked as though there was more to her than one would see.

  “Yes,” Asa said reflectively, turning a gradual smile to the stable hand. “Thank you. She will do perfectly.”

  A bell was rung within the golden yard and over the next few moments, five more stable hands appeared, each clad in the white-gilded uniforms. Two of them took the horses from their stalls and two retreated to another building. The final one, a man of Kean’s stature with jet-black hair, examined Asa and Avery.

  “Are they—” he began, but the woman cut him off.

  “Yes.”

  “Should I?”

  “You know what to do,” she said, rather waspishly.

  He left, wiping his brow and giving the two of them a curious glance as he did. Asa looked at his boots, scuffing a hole in the snow. It was odd, how people avoided them now. Had they been marked for death?

  Kean turned to them, something moving in his grey eyes. He smiled, for the first proper time, at Asa and nodded at Avery.

  “It is time,” he said.

  Asa inclined his head. “Thank you. For everything.”

  The taller man frowned at him. “But I have done nothing.”

  Avery looked at Asa in astonishment. “Asa, he has literally been less than useless.”

  “We have got this far.” Asa addressed the two of them at once. “We could not have done it without him. Useless or not, he has helped.”

  “Well then, thank you,” Kean said sincerely. He stopped, looking like he was struggling to speak. “I hope that you make it.”

  Asa smiled and shook his head. He watched the stable hands saddling up his and Avery’s horses. The steeds were decked in maroon uniforms, since they too were going on the mission. Their tack was clean, metal sparkling like the snow on the ground. Avery pushed Asa forward, he only then realised that they had been called over. Body numb, he managed to walk to his pony. The stable hands holding her made some semblance of conversation, but Asa did not respond. His eyes were fixed on a spot in the middle distance, ears filled with an intermittent buzzing.

  “Asa.”

  He flinched and looked up, startled out of his reverie.

  “Avery,” he replied, giving his friend what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “You startled me.”

  “Better that than you wandering off when it matters.” Avery went to stick his hands in his pockets, realised the limitations of his garments and frowned. “Useless. You’d think that they would include pockets.”

  “You’d think, wouldn’t you?” Asa rolled his eyes as Avery made a stupid face. “Sober up!”

  “Why should I?” Avery asked, yawning and stretching in the morning air.

  “We’re about to die.” Try as he might, he could not stop the tension from creeping into his voice.

  “All the more reason to mess around,” Avery said cavalierly.

  “Your mouth is moving but all that is coming out is nonsense.” Asa took hold of Freda’s reins as they were handed to him. “Looks like we’re heading off.”

  He took her over to the mounting block and hopped onto her broad back. She looked back in surprise, as if the sensation of being ridden was new to her. Asa clucked her forwards and she wandered away from the block, allowing Avery to bring his horse to it. He vaulted onto the delicate mount, causing her to snort and skitter towards Asa and Freda.

  “Careful there.” It was the stable hand from earlier, eyes curiously red-rimmed. She caught Neasa’s bridle and slowed the horse to a halt. “Easy, girl.”

  Avery looked at her. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she sniffed. “Just saying goodbye.”

  They stood there for a moment, and then Avery nodded to Asa.

  “Shall we be off?”

  “Let’s go.” A surge of adrenaline rushed through him. Asa pulled out the basic map, and then looked at the sky. “Just follow the rising sun.”

  Asa kicked Freda into a fast trot, merging into a canter. He glanced back over his shoulder. Avery was hot on his heels as they disappeared into the woods that bordered Jundres. A tall, thin figure watched them vanish into the undergrowth, standing like a thin statue long after they were out of sight. The tolling of a loud bell carried with them until they were well sheltered by the trees. Jundres now knew it, as would every other town in the country. The heroes were chosen.

  As the sky grew lighter, snow started to fall again. It was finer than last time, melting when it came in contact with their warm skin. They slowed the pace to a brisk walk to save the horses’ energy, exchanging few words in their sleepy morning states. Their cheeks and noses began to grow pinker, flushing in the chilly air.

  Asa enjoyed watching his breath coil into the air, billowing from his mouth like smoke from a dragon’s. He tried to blow a ring, or some sort of pattern, but only succeeded in making a large cloud and some strangled wheezes. Avery cast a sidelong glance at him and he coughed, trying to look nonchalant.

  The sun rose high into the sky as they rode towards noon. Asa’s stomach grumbled and he looked artfully towards Avery as his friend’s did the same.

  “Look, Asa,” Avery probed, as the midday sun beat overhead. “I’ve got a proposal.”

  “Sure,” Asa agreed, sitting back in the saddle. “What is it, Avery?”

  “We don’t have that much food,” the blond said, patting his saddlebags. “We’ve got your bags and mine, and that’s it.”

  Asa checked his saddlebags. “There’s only the two of us.”
/>   “I think we should miss luncheon today,” Avery said.

  Asa blinked. “Fine.”

  “Are you sure?” his friend asked. “Will it hurt your heart?”

  “In honesty, Avery,” he said and laughed, “my heart has not bothered me since the last you saw. I’ll be fine merely skipping a meal.”

  “Okay.” Avery nodded. “Well, just tell me if it’s getting bad. We lose nothing by taking precautions, but we lose you if we’re careless.”

  “Fusspot, slow down.” Asa grinned. “I’m going nowhere as of yet.”

  Avery laughed, bitterly this time. “Last time you said that you left the village in the middle of the night, disappeared for two years, and only let me know you weren’t dead by a rather belated letter from your new home in central nowhere.”

  “Central nowhere?” Asa came to his home’s defence. “No, mate, Salatesh was in the middle of nowhere. Brandenbury is four days away from the capital city. It is on the brink of being a rather central somewhere.”

  “Salatesh may not be somewhere,” Avery said icily, “but it is our home. I thought you’d remember that, Asa. I thought that the time you spent there meant something to you.”

  “Why must we always fight over this?” Asa shook his head. “Avery. You know how much the time there meant to me.”

  “Do I?”

  “You know how hard it was for me to leave. You know that I was alone. And you know, well . . .” He looked down at his cold hands.

  Avery stared at him, slight confusion written over his features. “I know what?”

  “That I miss home,” Asa admitted, spurring his horse into a faster trot. The trees blurred as he bent over the black mane, rising and falling with her. He heard the hooves of Avery’s steed behind him, speeding along the dirt track. There was no response. He wasn’t sure if his friend had even heard what he had said. “Avery?”