His Frozen Fingertips Page 9

  “I’m sorry.” Asa cast a sidelong glance at Avery, who nodded at him meaningfully. “But if you do not give us the keys then we will have to take them by force. We do not wish to do so.”

  Mersin squinted at him. He looked at his steely wife, who at that moment was wearing a murderous expression on her pinched face. Her mouth was so far folded in on itself that it became a single line of wrath. He sighed.

  “Fine.” From his pocket he withdrew a large ring of keys, which he handed to Asa. “Do not blame me, I beg of you. I tried to warn you.”

  “Mind repeating it?” Avery said. “I didn’t quite catch it the first time.”

  Mersin Hathor shook his head.

  “What would a canary know of the world outside?” He held his hand out to his wife and they climbed unsteadily back into the wagon. “We are off.”

  “Goodbye, Mr. Hathor,” Asa said.

  “Goodbye, young canary. Be watchful for cats.”

  Asa jumped at the sharp crack of a whip and the cart pony began once more to trot down the path. They stood there, quite still, until even the dust on the road had settled behind the disruptive wheels.

  Asa looked at the keys in his hands. There were an inordinate number of them, but he assumed that the single huge key would be the one to the gate. The rest were merely surplus. He trudged back to his pony and tugged on her bridle to bring her away from the grass back onto the path. He stuck a boot into the stirrup and hoisted himself into the saddle.

  “Should’ve asked them for some food,” he conceded to Avery, who had managed to control his horse for the first time.

  “Yeah,” Avery said. “However, he seemed convinced of our impending demise. Not sure if that would be taking advantage or not.”

  They rode off once more, the snow on either side of the path crisp and clear. Asa’s head felt woolly and odd from lack of sleep and food. As if to answer this thought, his stomach gave a twisty rumble, which made Freda’s ears perk up. To his great irritation, they did not stop for lunch. A stream ran close to the road, ice chunks caught in the stream like lumpy boats. They let their horses take a short drink at noon before setting off at the same brisk walk. Asa sighed, loosening his hold on the reins. Travelling was a lot more boring than he had assumed.

  As the day drew to a close they passed more people, great groups of them, travelling west down the road. They walked barefoot, carrying the essentials for survival. Women held children’s hands, muttering condolences in their ears. All around were the same frightened, gaunt faces that had seen more than anything Asa had ever experienced before. They whispered and muttered as they saw the direction that the two were taking.

  “Are you sure that you wish to go to the east?” a young woman asked them, a sword strapped to her waist in its scabbard. Her dress was a functional brown one, with a leather vest over the top. She had wide, expressive eyes and a flower tucked into her plaited hair.

  “Yes,” Avery replied, halting Neasa so that they could talk. “Yes, we are.”

  “But, sirs,” she said curiously. “The way is long. We have been walking for some time now. It is unsafe for just two of you to go such a way.”

  “We have little choice in the matter.” Asa shrugged. “We must travel where we must travel.”

  “We were told that we would find safety in Jundres.” She smiled contentedly, straightening her back. “That is where we will seek asylum. What is it that you ride for?”

  Asa frowned at her mention of the underground city, but decided that he would not speak. He looked straight into her eyes.

  “We ride for the queen,” he declared. “We ride for the concourse.”

  “The concourse?” she exclaimed. Instantly, a hush fell over the halted group. Whispers of excitement and fear flashed around like quicksilver. The two of them were gazed at reverently, as though they were deities of some unknown amount of power. The girl tossed her flower at Avery, who caught it, blushing.

  “You’re going there?” a child asked. “You’re a hero?”

  “I’m not a hero until it is done,” chuckled Asa. “But yes, that is our goal.”

  The girl rested a hand upon her sword. “My name is Lili Brandon. Would you like to rest with us tonight? We will celebrate now that we are out of danger from the snowfall. I would like to become better acquainted with you.”

  “That sounds brilliant.” Avery was grinning foolishly.

  Asa smiled. “Yes, I am sure that that would be nice.”

  If it had seemed that stopping in early afternoon was too long a rest, Asa realised soon that he was wrong. Once he and Avery had tied their horses to a low-hanging tree, several men had brushed a route through the snow to a small clearing one hundred paces into the treeline. The villagers brought a huge cloth, which they spread across the ground. Two ancient trees were felled, their broad stumps used as tables. A huge fire was lit with the wood—fiery tongues of flame dancing in the brisk wintery breeze.

  The food was bland but sufficient. It reminded Asa of what he had eaten in Salatesh when he was young. A huge stew pot was suspended over the fire, the cooks of the town piling in mountains of root vegetables and salted meat and topping it off with handfuls of melted snow. They stirred the spitting pot until steam whisked around their heads and wetted their brows. Filling, homely smells drifted throughout the clearing. It was late afternoon now. The air was calm and close, humid. It stuck to Asa’s skin and felt as though it would burn him with the cold of it.

  Wooden bowls were passed around, hundreds of them. Everyone joined a line, just waiting for their turn for a splash of stew and, if they were lucky, a lump of bread. Asa and Avery stayed at the back of the queue, out of place with these eastern people. They were friendly, but Asa felt distrustful as wary eyes bore into his spine. Finally, it was their turn. They were each served the same measured bowlful of stew, the bread having disappeared long ago. Asa lifted the bowl to his lips.

  “Smells good.” He nodded to one of the younger cooks, who eyed him in apprehension and nodded back.

  He took a sip. It certainly tasted good. Surrounding the meat and vegetables was a thick, glutinous gravy. Asa licked his lips. What is it? That powder that his mother had added to her own soups and stews. Brown powder, acrid and salty if eaten on its own kept in that little earthenware pot above their stove. The bowl warmed his hands as he sipped it, trying to find that secret ingredient. He remembered being given it when he was sick, mixed into a mug of warm milk. Salt-kidney powder; that’s it! Asa made a mental note to keep that recipe in mind, if in some merciful coincidence he did survive.

  A middle-aged woman dressed in a skirt and bodice of forest green was playing with something in a corner. Asa watched her curiously. She unclasped a leather case and withdrew a beautiful wooden instrument, a fiddle. She took the bow to the strings and played a long, mournful note. There were a few snatches of conversation, but the clearing quieted to a gentle murmur. One word was repeated time and time again, dancing.

  The bowls were discarded to the sides of the huge cloth, left for a group of sullen-faced teenage boys to clear away. The elders of the village congregated in the middle, the dying light of the sun giving their silver heads a warm glow, putting colour back into the grey strands. The fiddler increased her pace, jumping from note to note and string to string with remarkable speed. The clump of elders split down the centre, beginning the first steps of a dance that Asa knew all too well. For people who had no ability to read, dancing was an all too necessary skill. He felt a rush of remembrance. He and Avery had been to many dances such as these.

  A huddle of young women approached them, dressed in pastel coloured pinafores over their functional work dresses. The leader, a girl wearing a light-blue dress, extended her hand and walked up to them.

  “Would you like to dance the next dance with us?” she offered to them both, no hint of nervousness in her tone. “We have no male partners.”

  Avery perked up at this, but Asa shook his head, stamping on his friend’s foot.<
br />
  “I’m sorry,” he declined. “Much as I would love to, we must save our energy. Thank you, though.”

  He watched with growing relief as the small group wandered away, not looking disheartened. He turned to continue his and Avery’s conversation, to find his friend looking exasperated.

  “Oh, get a grip, Asa!” Avery exclaimed. “Some of those girls were lovely.”

  “I’m terribly sorry, but I didn’t notice,” Asa replied.

  A tall girl with chestnut hair approached them. Avery nudged Asa with his elbow. She smiled at them, winding a glossy strand round her fingers. Asa sighed. He could see that she was nervous so he tried to smile back, offering his hand. She put her own in his and he raised it to his lips in a stiff kiss. Having had her offer accepted, the young woman led him out onto the cleared area, where there were many other couples dancing. Asa shot a panicked glance back at Avery, who winked at him.

  The pace of the fiddle seemed to slow as it entered his ears. Asa moved stiltedly, though he knew the steps. The girl was taller than him. Her hair fell across both of their shoulders in its luscious volume, untainted by the dust track which she had walked. Their hands were linked in a strange mockery of intimacy as they stepped forward, drew back, and spun in time with the frantic tune of the fiddler ringing in their ears. Asa stared at the darkening sky blankly, registering the uncomfortable sensation of small, soft hands encased in his own.

  After what seemed to be an eternity of formal twists and paces, the music stopped. Asa’s hands flicked open and he turned to run away from the brunette, not bothering to ask for her name or even another dance. He returned to his best friend in ill grace, half-scowling with anxiety.

  “Asa!” Avery chastised him. “That wasn’t polite. She’s looking so confused now. How hard was it for you to simply say goodbye?”

  “Impossible,” Asa said simply.

  “Every other man on the floor would have given their right hands for a girl as beautiful as that,” Avery snorted.

  “Well, every other man on the floor can have her, and keep their right hands too,” Asa replied. “Why should I dance with her? I know nothing of her, she nothing of me. Why should we be forced together by aesthetics and situation? It’s horrible.”

  “Something wrong with you there, mate.” Avery eyed the dancers. “Hey, do you think I could ask that girl from earlier to dance? Lili? She’s all alone over there.”

  “Sure.” Asa shrugged.

  “You don’t mind?”

  “‘Course I don’t.” In fact, he minded a lot.

  He watched the dancers, muddling through his convoluted thoughts. He watched Avery move across the dance floor, swinging the light girl as if she was a child. They laughed and joked as they span, too close, way too close. Their chests were pressed together as close as lovers. He only just managed to stifle an annoyed yelp as Avery leaned down, whispered in her ear, and kissed Lili on the lips.

  “Alright, time to go.” He crossed the dance floor and grabbed Avery’s arm, wrenching him bodily away from Lili, who looked up admiringly at his friend with her dark eyes. Avery mouthed something at her, and she mouthed it back, but Asa pulled them both out of the clearing with nothing more than a mumbled expression of gratitude to the woman who stood at the entrance.

  Avery was fuming. “Asa, what in Eodem was that about?”

  He ripped his arm away from Asa’s clenched fingers but Asa held fast. They could hear the noises of the people, the music, and the clatter of feet on ground. Outside, the air was colder and emptier. Asa looked in confusion at Avery.

  “Avery, the real question is, what that was about?” he asked in disbelief. “You’re not together romantically, and you never will be. That was foolish. You don’t even love her!”

  “Hmm.” Avery made a small sound in the back of his throat, though he walked away from the party to climb onto his horse. Asa sprung up onto his pony’s back, peering curiously at Avery, whose shoulders were hunched as though he was in some sort of awful discomfort.

  He nudged Freda into walking and beckoned Avery to follow. His friend waved a wistful hand and they together trotted down the road, hearing the cheers of the people for some time after they were unable to see them. Asa buzzed as he sat on his horse, hands shaking from pent up excitement.

  “They know about me now, Avery!” Asa grinned, bouncing up and down in the saddle. “I’m famous!”

  “Great.” Avery twiddled the flower that Lili had given him.

  “They knew you too.” Asa turned to him, anxious that he knew of his importance. “It’s not just about me.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What’s wrong?” Asa asked, surprised and hurt by his friend’s lack of interest. “What’s eating you?”

  “Nothing much.” Avery placed the flower in his saddlebag. Asa caught this and a small smile crept onto his face.

  “Oh,” he said incredulously. “Oh, I see.”

  “See what?” snapped Avery.

  “Mister “I don’t go in for girls” Avery Hardy has a crush? That’s why you kissed her! You plan on finding her when this is over. I see that now! Oh, I was blind not to!”

  “What?” Avery snorted. “No. Of course not. She just had pretty eyes. I got caught up in the moment, that’s all.”

  “Nice eyes, a cute laugh, and thought you were a hero?” Asa counted on his fingers. “Can’t see the attraction, personally.”

  “Ah, shut it.” Avery shook his head. “She’s one in millions. I’ll never see her again.”

  “But you want to?” Asa said suggestively.

  “I might do,” his friend conceded, chuckling. “Did you think she was cute?”

  “As you said, one in millions of others like her.” Asa shrugged. “But her face was tolerable enough, I suppose.”

  “Tolerable?” Avery gaped. “You miserable old git! She was an absolute stunner. And clever, too. She said that she’s always studying, even now on their migration. She likes me, too. Asa, I think that she’s the one.”

  “You got all of that from a kiss?”

  Asa raised an eyebrow, which reduced the blond to a stony silence, occasionally breaking out into a tut or a shake of the head as Asa’s statement repeated itself. Asa ran a hand through his hair, breaking the wild order that it had been in. It stuck up about his head as if it were a dark brown mane. He laughed at the still-irked expression written clearly over Avery’s features. His friend, no doubt about it, was sulking.

  Freda trundled along, occasionally stopping for a snatch of grass or a cheeky leaf from a low-hanging branch. Asa noticed but didn’t have the heart to reprimand her. She was only a pony and was allowed to have something to eat occasionally. Neasa just looked miserable. Her head hung low as she trudged along the road, Avery slumped in the saddle.

  “Sulking, much?” he teased. Avery glared at him. “Oh, come on, Avery.”

  “You shouldn’t tease so much,” he scowled.

  “It was just a joke,” Asa apologised. “I’m sorry that you did not find it amusing.”

  “Well, it wasn’t funny,” his friend scowled.

  “But,” Asa started, then stopped. “Seriously, maybe you’ve got a chance?”

  “Asa, I’ll never see her again.”

  “And why not?”

  “Because she’s travelling to a reclusive underground city and we’re going ever-so-nicely to our certain deaths.” Avery kicked his heels into Neasa’s sides. “Gee up, you. Stop dawdling.”

  Asa sat silent for a minute.

  “Avery?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Who says that we’re going to die?” he asked. “I say that our prospects are good—”

  “Asa, you’re an idiot.”

  “Don’t you dare interrupt me,” Asa chastised him. “Anyway. We’re going to survive and then go back to Jundres to meet the queen. The crowds of people, they will be ten rows deep and all of them chanting our names. We’ll use our influence to change their lives. We’ll tell them that. They’l
l have hope yet, Avery. Then you’ll see them, a pair of large eyes staring into your own. You’ll get off your pony, handing the reins to me, and you’ll walk to her. ‘How are the studies going?’ You’ll say ‘I trust you have been expanding your knowledge.’ And she’ll laugh and tell you, and you’ll arrange a time to meet again and all shall be wonderful.”

  “Ha. Wonderful,” Avery mocked.

  “Hush you. It shall be perfect. Now, onwards to victory and a meal that will fill our poor empty bellies.”

  “No use pining, I suppose,” Avery sighed. “She’ll still be there when I get back.”

  A cloud drifted over the weak sun, blocking out its light. Asa shivered. He pulled his sleeves down over his wrists. A definite chill came over the pair of them, sitting close together on their horses. Asa scowled and Avery swore as, one by one, tiny fragments of ice began to fall once again from the sky. The novelty was lost on them by now. Asa checked his saddlebags were fastened and sped Freda up into as fast a walk as she could comfortably maintain. They were doing this on distance, after all. If they completed this part of the journey then maybe they could sleep earlier. Asa could only hope. He wiped some sleep from his eyes and focused his vision on the road ahead.

  They passed over another icy river, faster and deeper this time, the road narrowing to not much more than a plank of wood. Freda took the few steps with ease, ears pricked forwards. Avery was having more trouble with his horse. She was wanting for some serious exercise, not just their simple walking. The racing blood that ran so clearly within her veins made her antsy, skittish, and unreliable. Asa could tell by his friend’s envious looks at his own pony that Avery was jealous of Asa’s “misfortune” in receiving such a boring mount. Neasa tugged at her reins, dancing on the spot as Avery tried to get her to cross. He kicked her, resulting only in her performing a sort of half-rear and whinnying to Freda, whose plain face displayed only mild concern for her comrade. Avery grimaced and snapped a small switch from a branch. He gave Neasa a light tap upon her shoulder, softer than he could even nudge with his heels.

  Instantly, the horse flinched away from the unwelcome contact. She shied backwards, slipped on some ice, and gave an almighty buck. Avery was sent head over heels into the freezing waters that he had been trying to cross. Asa caught not much more than an expression of almighty surprise. He yelped and dismounted hurriedly, not caring as to where Freda wandered in the intensity of his panic. Asa rushed over to where Avery had fallen in, groping about in the dark river despite the undeniable fact that the current would have carried him off had he been unconscious. He called his friend’s name, voice higher than usual. No response was forthcoming. Asa had been starting to suspect the worst when, all of a sudden, there was a splash and a hand gripped onto the bank of the river. Knuckles whitening, it strained and Avery’s face came into view under the water. Asa plunged his hand deep into the icy depths, feeling a surge of relief as Avery grasped it in his, pulling his torso up and onto the bank where he floundered desperately until his legs were free of the sucking undercurrents.