Frost (14 page)

They had been warned of her coming, she was sure, but their faces reflected fear. She studied them by the dim firelight, again wondering why these primitive people could perceive Ashur's true form when more civilized men saw only a horse, though a large and wild one. What power had they retained that other men had lost?

The chittering grew until Ali held up a hand for silence. Then, in the language of the leaves, she spoke. To Frost's surprise, the words were clear in her mind as well. The little priestess calmed their fears, admonished her people to treat the Death-Goddess with respect and reverence, commanded them to make her welcome.

But their suspicions were not allayed. Eyes flickered distrustfully from the unicorn to her. Somewhere, a child began to cry; a trembling mother tried desperately to hush it.

Forgive them, I beg you, Goddess. But they are afraid of you and your monster. How can I calm them when even the gods fear your touch?

“I understand,” she answered. “Perhaps there is another place we can wait without distressing your people?"

Ali thought.
I will take you to the High Place where Dasur swims and dances in the moonlight, where he makes music in the leaves. There, we may rest and talk, and in the morning you will have your man
.

Frost nodded. With Ashur in close tow she followed Ali away from the village, stopping once before a mud-thatched hut. Ali disappeared inside, then emerged with a rope at her waist.

It is both tool and weapon
, Ali explained.
We seldom go deep into the forest without one
.

A well-trod path pointed toward a shadowed mountain peak just visible against the star-sprinkled sky. Surely, that was the High Place Ali referred to. She watched it until the trees blocked her view.

Not far from the camp they passed what appeared to be a well: a low wall of piled rocks ringing a dark pit. Without slowing, she glanced over the rim. The scant moonlight reflected with a dull gleam on the water. Strange, she thought, to dig wells where clear streams were so plentiful and sweet.

A little further along, a second well stood beside the path. Ali ignored it as she had the first, but this time Frost paused to peer over the edge. The trees had thickened, and no moonlight showed the bottom. Snatching a pebble, she dropped it down the well. No splash, but a brittle snapping.

Whatever was down there, it wasn't water.

Beyond the second was a third. Here, the trees were thinner and a little light spilled into the well betraying the same dull gleam as the first. She leaned over and dropped another pebble.
Pop, crack, silence
.

She sucked her lip and played with the mystery. What else could a well hold but water? She dared not ask Ali for fear of displaying her ignorance. After all, how much was a goddess supposed to know?

All the while, Ali continued, unnoticing, never looking back. The little girl never looked away from the direction of the peak. Soon the path began to climb, becoming steep and rocky. Loose stones slipped beneath her boots; safe footing was an elusive thing in the dark.

“Ali, I'll go no farther,” she announced, breaking the silence for the first time since leaving the village. “The ground is too treacherous for Ashur, and I'll not be separated from him."

It is only a little higher to a place where the earth is flat and secure. We can rest there in Dasur's sacred place. Please, Goddess, urge your demon-creature just a little farther.

Frost hesitated. Where could there be level ground at this height? The stony trail grew more hazardous with every step. Soon, it would be too narrow, and Ashur would be unable to follow.

Please, Goddess.

There was pleading in the small voice. Ali's round eyes looked into her own. “A little farther, then,” she agreed reluctantly.

Indeed, the path did not go much farther. It ended abruptly at the base of a sheer rock wall. Frost muttered under her breath and cursed, fearing a trap.

Ali had disappeared.

Her sword slid quietly from its sheath, while she craned her neck, peering back down the trail. If it was an ambush, someone had planned poorly. The ledge was too narrow for more than one attacker at a time to come at her, and they would have to get past Ashur as well. That made her shiver; a large number of men might press the unicorn over the side. She looked down. Not an abyss, but the steep fall would be as deadly.

Goddess, why do you not follow?

She spun. Ali stood beside her again. When the little priestess spied the blade in the woman-warrior's hand, her jaw dropped and she turned wide eyes on Frost.

Is it my time, Goddess? Am I now chosen?

The innocent fear in those words made her smile as she sheathed her weapon and drew a deep breath. Then, on impulse she rumpled Ali's long hair. “No, little one,” she laughed. “It's not your time yet; you deserve a long life. But show me where you went."

A wide crack split the rock face, concealed in shadows, a tunnel wide and high enough even for Ashur. Ali led the way and the unicorn went after, his peculiar eyes casting pools of dim light on the cavern floor. Frost tangled her hand in his mane, for he could see the way where she could not.

His eyes are the most frightening things about him,
confided Ali,
for they are not eyes at all. If I were tall enough to touch them, I believe their fire would burn me.

The cave made a sudden turn, then they emerged into paradise. Sweet fragrances of fruit blossoms filled the air. Gentle, constant winds teased her hair, played in the folds of her cloak. Nearby, she heard the bubbling song of a spring. Tiny, white-headed flowers bloomed abundantly in the thick carpet of grass, and unhampered by obscuring trees, the light of a full moon lent everything a frosty, opalescent glow.

An unbroken ring of towering walls, jagged as an old man's teeth, loomed over the garden with protective menace, shutting out the world beyond.

This is the High Place; it is sacred to Dasur
, Ali intoned with ritual solemnity.
He is here now, dancing on the leaves, making music in the branches. You can feel his breath on your skin, hear him laughing in the water
.

The little priestess opened her arms, threw back her head.
Dasur, Father of the People, we greet you
.

At the center of the grove lay a pool of water whose surface sparkled and rippled as the wind blew upon it. Removing her scant clothing, Ali paused on its bank, then waded into the cool depths and immersed herself, disappearing completely from view. Frost had begun to fear some mishap when she finally broke the surface again.

A strange gleam shone in her eyes.

Sensuously, shamelessly the little girl began to rub her body. Waist-deep in the pool, she moved like a woman in the arms of her lover. Those small hands caressed tender, childish breasts with a lustful hunger and longing that brought a flush of heat to Frost's cheeks. Ali's bony little hips made gyrating motions that churned the water, and she tossed her head from side to side, emitting low moans of pleasure from moist, glistening lips.

This is Dasur's place
. Ali's voice was a rich melody in her mind.
Come, Goddess, and cleanse yourself. Dasur finds you pleasing
.

The wind whirled around Frost, plucked at her clothes, tugged her hair. Sudden, stiff gusts blew against her back, urging her closer to the water's edge. Without knowing why, her heart beat faster. She sucked an uneasy breath.

Dasur invites you, Goddess
. The voice purred inside her head. Small hands beckoned innocently, entreating. Something called her to the water.

Tremulously, her fingers touched the fastenings of her cloak; weapons fell to the ground, boots, then tunic and breeches. It was foolishness. And yet, the pool called her.

She moved forward, and the water licked her toes. It rippled over her thighs, around her waist, between her breasts. The pool engulfed her, swallowed her. As she sank into its shadowed, bottomless depths a warm wetness invaded her being, streamed into her soul, filling her with sensations. At first, she resisted them, but the clasping, gently insistent waters dissolved her will until she fought no more. Sensation rose, swelled, too intense for bearing, yet she could not cry out or do anything to prevent the beautiful, bizarre fantasies that swam in her mind. Something touched her thoughts ... and she reached with her own to embrace it.

When it was over, she opened her eyes and brushed away the droplets that clung to her lashes. She quivered all over, and it was several moments before she trusted herself to move. At last, she waded carefully ashore.

Ali sat hugging her knees to her chest, smiling.
It was so beautiful
, she sighed.
Dasur, the Breath of Life together that way with a Goddess of Death
.

Frost said nothing. A fog of confused impressions settled upon her. Unsure of what had transpired, she bit her lip and sank to the grass. It felt different—smooth as richest velvet on her bare skin. And the moon seemed brighter than she remembered. Smells were sharper. The wind moaned loud in her ears.

Was that Dasur's voice? She felt between her thighs and wondered, feared. Sleep came after awhile, laden with queer dreams.

The sky was still dark when she woke, but the moon perched on the west rim of the cratered walls. Close by, Ali sat cross-legged, watching her, and the little girl smiled as she yawned and sat up, surprisingly refreshed.

You are so lovely
, said Ali.
I no longer fear you. Even your demon-creature has an air of tranquillity about him
.

Across the grove the unicorn munched fruit blossoms and jasmine-scented leaves, a figure of pastoral serenity. The fire-eyes were subdued, telling his contentment as he wandered lazily among the trees.

Ali jumped up and scampered to another tree, seeming more a child than ever before. Her laughter tinkled in the garden stillness as she ran, and when she returned to the pool's edge she carried two plump red fruits. She offered one to Frost.

The woman-warrior looked strangely at it. She had never seen its like, but Ali bit deeply into hers and swallowed, so she did the same. The soft pulp had a sweet, nectarous flavor, and she ate slowly, savoring every bite. When nothing remained except a large pit, Ali held out her hand for it and pushed both pits into holes dug with her fingers, then covered them with dirt. Going to the pool, she cupped water in her hands and poured it on the mounds.

They will grow and bear more fruit for Dasur
.

That name brought a chill as she remembered her experience in the pool. She drew her feet under her, hugging her knees, and looked thoughtfully at the rippling, moonbright surface. For a thousand days she would wonder what truly occurred in that water, and the memory, the fantasies and the sensations would haunt her for a thousand restless nights.

In the first rays of morning, Frost and Ali put on their clothes and said goodbye to Dasur's garden. Frost gave it a final look before stepping into the cave that led back to the mountain pass and down into the valley. Her time in the grove had been restful—very likely, the last peace she would know for a long while.

The journey through the cavern was made in silence broken only by Ashur's hooves on the hard stone. As she walked, she laid hands on her weapons, Demonfang on the left hip and her sword on her right. Bitter reminders of her unfinished task. As they emerged once more into the sunlight, she gazed down into the waiting valley.

A thick, early morning mist hung in the low places. The lush woodland sparkled with fresh dew. Gone were the ominous and frightening shadows of the night before.

And yet, there was still something, an aura of foreboding that sunlight could not chase away.

My people will have the man you seek when we arrive
, said Ali walking ahead of her.
We do not know why you want him or what exactly it is that you require of him, but if you will permit, Dasur's law decrees a ritual punishment for trespassers. We would not cheat you, Goddess
. She added,
It will effectively hasten him to your realm of the dead
.

Frost shivered that such a request could be couched in so tender a voice. The laughing child who scampered through the moonlit garden was suddenly gone. On this side of the cave Ali was once more a priestess of her people: dignified and cold and very unchild-like.

An ugly world, she decided, where children moved in the dark limbo between gods and men. She drew a heavy, deep breath.

“The man has taken something I must have back,” she answered carefully. “When I have it again, he is yours."

By daylight the trail proved easier going. They descended quickly and headed for the village.

Not far along she spied one of the strange wells that had so piqued her curiosity in the night. It stood washed in a circle of sunshine at the path's edge, and though she thought at first to pass it by and speed on to the village and young Telric, the memory and mystery of it was too great. A few quick strides brought her peering over the stone rim.

A cold hand clutched her heart. Not a well—a pit. Skulls with empty eye-sockets glared up at her. Bones gleamed. Human bones, she realized, chewed and gnawed clean. An animal would have cracked them to get the marrow, but these were not. What then?

It dawned on her with a sickening clarity.

Flesh-eaters.

Frost gritted her teeth, struggling to hide her sudden revulsion. Bile rose in her throat, threatened to choke her. She gripped the stone wall so hard that a piece of rock came loose and tumbled with a loud clatter into the pit, splintering a brittle jawbone.

Trespassers
, came the voice in her head.
They violated the sanctity of Dasur's mountains and were punished for it. So shall your man be
.
 

She spun, glaring at the little priestess, nearly striking her, then thought better of it and chewed her lip, letting that pain smother her real emotions. Wordlessly, she turned from the pit and made for the village, careful to avoid the others and their terrible contents that lay along the way.