The Ice King’s Consort (The Ice King Chronicles #1)

Chapter Three

“No,”

I explained for the third or fourth time that morning.

“These are not panpipes.

I’m not sure what they are, but please…look at the drawing I gave you again.

That will show you what I mean. Don’t you have any musicians here who could show you or find me one?”

“Why are you berating the servants, Consort Pavel? Haven’t you caused enough trouble so far?”

“Lord Juul,”

I replied, turning to bow to him.

I wasn’t sure if I should bow or not—since my betrothal to King Tarrak, technically I thought I might outrank him, but he certainly hadn’t corrected me thus far this morning, and he didn’t seem in any hurry to do it now.

He had arrived as my breakfast was leaving.

Not that he came to pick it up himself—I think he would have died first.

But he walked in behind the servant who came to take it early that morning, long before first light.

I had been trying for the past half hour to explain to them that I needed a panpipe to take with me.

“Why aren’t you dressed? I sent you clothing for the journey.”

He had indeed.

The room they put me in the night before was magnificent, but I had been almost too exhausted and drained after all the excitement of the day to really appreciate it.

I allowed the servants to undress me when I was ready for bed and help me climb up into the softest, warmest bed I’d ever lain in.

They put out the candles and the room became dark and quiet. Despite the strangeness of finding myself in such an insane situation, I was so worn out by it all that I soon fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

The next morning the servants awoke me when they came in to bring my breakfast and stir up the fire.

They brought with them some fine velvet and fur-lined trousers and a matching shirt to help keep out the cold.

They gave me supple, leather boots, again lined with the softest fur, and then brought out a beautiful ermine coat, hat, and a pair of gloves, splendid enough for a tsar himself to wear.

It was only as I started to get out of bed to let them dress me that I realized I didn’t have my pipes. Lord Juul had insisted I come with him with only the clothing on my back, but how could I prove myself to Tarrak without them?

I had flown into a slight panic and had the servants running all over the palace looking for a suitable substitute to the old ones I’d left at home.

They had brought me one instrument after another, including all manner of flutes and even a lyre for some reason, but no panpipe.

“I know you sent me clothing and I thank you.

The furs are beautiful and will keep me warm—but I have to find panpipes to play for the king against his enemies.”

Juul reached into his coat and pulled out my own set of pipes from an inside pocket.

I recognized them right away.

“Are these what you’ve been scouring the palace for?”

I gasped and reached for them, clutching them to me like a long-lost old friend.

They gave a soft little peep as I touched them.

“B-but how? How did you get these?”

“I heard you blathering about them to the king last evening and sent a soldier after them.

He arrived with them an hour or so ago.”

“He did? Did he…did the soldier say anything about my family?”

“No, why would he? He didn’t hurt them, if that’s what you’re asking.

He simply told your father what he wanted from him, and the mortal handed them over.

I confess I don’t see what all the fuss was about.”

“Did he…did my father ask about me?”

“I have no idea.

He sold you to me without a single question or any attempt at bargaining.

If you meant so little to him, then why does it matter what he said or did?”

I shrugged and cradled my pipe to me, He definitely had a point.

As I held the pipes, I could have sworn they grew noticeably warmer against my chest.

“It-it doesn’t matter, I guess.”

Perhaps these old pipes didn’t look like much to a dazzling, radiant personage such as Lord Juul, but they meant home to me.

Or at least the memory of home.

And somehow memories of a thing are always much better than the reality of it.

My father was a drunk who had been abusive at times, and life had been hard in that little hovel of a house where my mother passed away, but memories were like a piece of Rossiysky cheese, with the holes in it to let the bad times slip through and only the solid pieces remain. My brother was there in my memories too, and my mother’s warm hugs and my grandmother’s smile and even a few faint memories of sitting as a small child in my father’s lap, while he taught me how to tie my shoes. I didn’t want to let go of those.

“Thank you, Lord Juul,”

I told him, and I think we were both embarrassed to find tears standing in my eyes.

“Thank you for getting them for me.”

“Yes, yes, whatever.

Don’t mention it.

And I mean that.”

He gave me a dubious look.

“Can you actually make music with those things?”

“Yes, of course,”

I said, smiling happily and brushing the tears from my eyes.

I put the pipes to my lips and softly, gently blew, coaxing and teasing a tune to come out for me.

I closed my eyes and played an old song my grandmother had taught me, an ancient melody that was melodious and sweet and beautiful.

The music of my panpipe was as high and tremulous as a bird’s song. The notes I enticed out of it flew around the room over our heads and even the servants stopped their bustling about to listen. I noticed a guard at the door peeked around the corner, smiling at the lilting notes as if he couldn’t help himself.

When I was finished, I saw Juul staring at me, his eyes wide.

He shook himself as the notes ended.

As the servants began to move around the room again, he sighed impatiently.

“Perhaps it wasn’t a complete waste, after all.

The king might enjoy it.

But stop all this now and finish getting dressed.

You’ll keep Tarrak waiting.”

I rushed to take his advice, and when I was finally ready, I stopped to stare at myself in the mirror and gasped in surprise for the second time that morning.

The bath from the night before had scrubbed all the grime and smoke of the blacksmith’s shop from my skin and hair, and even my eyes looked brighter under all this candlelight in the room, shining as they peeped out from under my rich, ermine hat.

I looked like a young tsarevitch from a fairy tale in my luxurious furs, and I hardly recognized myself.

Juul came to stand behind me and nodded his approval.

“You’ll do.

Now follow me to the courtyard.

The king’s men have assembled, and they’re waiting for you to arrive.”

The idea of that made me move quickly, and I practically ran down the long hallway toward where I thought the front door was.

Juul pulled on my arm and turned me around at one of the passageways, rolling his eyes at me.

“That way,”

he said, and I ran down yet another endless corridor.

At the end of it were two guards holding open the heavy doors.

I rushed through and skidded to a stop on the top step.

There before me in the courtyard were the king’s Ice Soldiers.

They looked like something from a winter’s dream, at least a hundred of them, all dressed in white leather and fur, a dazzling company of silver-haired men, mounted on the backs of white stags, whose antlers were adorned with greenery and jewels.

Snow white hounds yipped and dashed around their hooves, eager to be off, disregarding the soldier’s commands to settle down.

And sitting astride the biggest stag of all was the king himself, dressed all in white with a jeweled sword strapped to his side and a golden crown on his head.

“Do you know how to ride?”

King Tarrak asked me as I approached him, and I shook my head.

“Not on one of those.”

“Then you’ll ride with one of my soldiers,”

he said, and waved his hand toward the rear of the column he headed.

I glanced back at the line of men, all coldly staring back at me.

Asking anything from one of them was a daunting prospect.

I took a step toward them though, when Juul spoke up beside me.

“He can ride with me.”

Lord Juul had already swung up into his white saddle, but he made room for me to sit in front of him on the huge reindeer, pulling me up as easily as if I’d been a sack of flour.

The stag turned its head and shook its horns at me.

The little bells and diamonds adorning them tinkled in the wind.

I shivered in response, and the animal rolled his red eyes and snorted through his nose.

Juul laughed.

“Keep your hands and feet away from his mouth, and you’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

I asked nervously.

“Of course.

He doesn’t like the taste of mortals.”

He was no doubt having fun at my expense.

Not feeling reassured in the least, I nevertheless leaned back into his warmth.

The king rode up alongside us, glancing over at me.

“Should I find him his own stag, Juul? I didn’t mean for you to be bothered.”

“He’d only fall off, sire.

He’s fine here and much less trouble.”

The king nodded and pulled his reins to resume his place at the head of the long column of soldiers.

And as I’d done the last time I’d ridden with Juul, I tucked the furs of my warm, rich new coat around my legs and settled back to try and enjoy the ride.

Juul clucked his tongue to his mount, and we began to move off out of the courtyard and through the wide gates, at a much faster clip than I would have thought.

The trail was much the same as before, cold and forbidding as it disappeared into the forest ahead of us.

As we rode, I could hear the dogs running through the trees beside us, occasionally treeing a white squirrel or chasing after the white hares that came again to stand by the road and watch us pass.

We were near the head of the column of soldiers, of course, so I had a good view of the still-dark trail ahead of us.

The trees, laden with snow, grew so closely overhead it almost seemed as if we were traveling through a tunnel, if not for the occasional clearing that allowed the light to splash on the ground and make wide puddles of sunlight for us to wade through. The stags’ sharp hooves made the ice and snow fly up in front of us and then surround us, so we looked like a small blizzard whirling through the silent forest.

I think Juul might have been content to travel the whole way in silence, but after an hour or so, when I couldn’t stand it any longer, I broke into a nervous chatter.

“Whose castle did you say we’re going to save?”

I asked him.

He seemed surprised I’d asked or maybe he was surprised to hear from me at all, preferring to think of me as just extra baggage he was carrying.

He answered me though, his chest rumbling against my back as he spoke.

His warm breath gusted gently against my face.

“I told you, the estate of one of the king’s noblemen is under siege.

Lord Turog.

He sent his captain of the guard to ask for help, managing to get him out of the castle before Adan’s army arrived to block the roads.”

“If they’re surrounding his castle, we may have to fight our way in.”

“Yes, your astute grasp of the obvious never fails to astound me.

They’ll be blocking the trails into the estate, but it won’t take too long to route them.

Adan’s army is ill-trained and weak.”

“Apparently strong enough to lay siege to this Lord Turog’s castle though.

Didn’t somebody say there would be ogres? I’ve never actually seen one.

In fact, I thought they weren’t real.”

“They’re real enough.

When we get closer, I’ll put you down by the side of the trail and come back for you when the fighting’s done.

Don’t wander off and get lost and stay out of sight.

Can you do that?”

“Yes, but…what will you be doing?”

“Fighting, of course.

Now be quiet.

The estate is just over this next rise.

They’re not far ahead of us I should think.”

We began riding up a slight hill, with mounds of snow drifting in ditches and against trees on either side of the trail, when a loud blast from a horn made Tarrak haul back on his reins and hold up his hand to stop the soldiers behind him.

From in front of us, bursting from the trees on either side of the road, a large group of hideous looking creatures were swooping down off the hill to engage us, raucous voices shouting, and the tallest of the creatures at the front of the group was rampaging straight for King Tarrak.

The creature looked almost human, in that quick, terror-stricken, first glimpse I got of him, except for his skin, which was a dark shade of gray with a greenish cast.

He was extremely tall—maybe two and a half meters, but almost cadaver thin, with long arms like an ape’s.

He wore a dark, ragged uniform with rusted chain mail over his chest and carried an enormous battle axe, raised high over his head.

He wore no helmet but had a strange reddish crest of hair that stood up in a wide strip along his scalp, and he was bald on either side of that. His eyes were glowing a demonic red, and he looked ferocious and wild.

Juul shoved me off his lap and onto the frozen ground.

“Run to the woods,”

he cried as the ogre stopped suddenly in front of us and hurled his axe straight at Juul’s head.

I hadn’t fallen on my feet and was still sitting on my ass, frozen in horror, as Juul jerked the stag’s reins sharply to the left and bent over his saddle to barely miss being decapitated by the battle axe.

He pulled his own sword and swung wide to lop off the ogre’s head.

Ahead of us, the king was fighting valiantly too, and had just dispatched his own ogre, slicing off its head with his sword.

As he straightened, though, an arrow caught him in the neck, and he grabbed the shaft and fell forward over the stag’s neck.

I scrambled to my feet and ran to catch the king as he sagged off his mount, but in the next instant, Lord Juul and some of his other men pushed me roughly aside and reached him first, catching the king in their arms and lowering him to the snow.

The ground beneath us was torn up now, with the bloody snow and the mud all trampled together under our feet.

They tended Tarrak’s wound with a great deal of shouting and hand wringing, some of them even scooping up snow and pressing it around the protruding shaft.

I could hear the soft cries of pain Tarrak was making, and they made my stomach clench in sympathy, but there was no way I could get to him through the press of the crowd around him.

I watched as Tarrak suddenly reached up and wrenched the arrow from the wound before anyone could stop him.

Gouts of blood poured from it, but as the soldiers tried in vain to hold him down, he shook them off with a roar and broke away with incredible strength and a furious cry, struggling back to his feet. Tarrak’s sword was still in his hand, as he leaped to his feet and surged toward the nearest ogre with a loud shout, his gaze never leaving the ogre’s face, and his own a mask of rage. With one mighty swing, he slashed off the thing’s head, and I watched it roll across the snow, leaving a bloody trail behind.

Tarrak’s soldiers surged in front of him, racing to protect their king and defend him with their swords, though a few others gathered in front of him and forced him back with their sheer numbers, concerned about his safety.

More ogres were pouring out of the forest and more soldiers came riding from the rear of our column, wielding their huge swords, swinging them over their heads and shouting savage cries.

Lord Juul and the others with Tarrak were baring their teeth and snarling as they bore him away to the rear of our column and away from the pitched battle taking place in front of us.

I ran back toward them, but there were too many around Tarrak for me to be able to see him well.

I caught an occasional glimpse of his face through the crowd, his eyes open, his skin flushed with strong emotion, and blood spilling down his shirt from his wound.

Juul was there beside him, the impossible man still shouting orders.

But the king was losing too much blood, and though I wanted desperately to get to him to try and heal him, a violent battle was raging between the two sides now.

The Ice Soldiers had surrounded the ogres and were cutting off their avenue of escape back into the woods.

I had no weapon so, mindful of what Juul had ordered me to do, I tried to withdraw to hide in the trees until the battle was over.

But I was immediately confronted by two of the large, ugly creatures, who didn’t attack but kept inching forward, forcing me backward away from Tarrak’s Ice Soldiers and toward the forest they’d come from, dodging my attempts to strike at them or kick out at them. I was being herded, and I looked around wildly for a weapon or for a way to escape.

I stumbled backward, and then I heard a loud cry ring out from behind me.

I turned to look, distracting my attention for only a second, but it was enough to give the ogres the chance they’d been looking for.

One of them leaped on top of me and took me to the ground.

I felt a sharp, almost debilitating pain in the back of my head as I landed on something hard in the snow. His fetid stench was overcoming me, and his inhumanly strong hands wrapped around my neck, choking me. I tried desperately to roll away from him before I fainted, because darkness was creeping around the edges of my consciousness. Not to mention the fact that I had landed hard on my back with the huge creature on top, and he’d knocked the breath clean out of me. The ogre raised his long, sharp talon over my throat, poised to rip it open, and I closed my eyes, shocked and frightened that I was about to die, when I heard Lord Juul’s voice crying out, “No!”

In an instant Juul was beside me, yanking the ogre’s huge body off me with his incredible strength and hauling me up by my coat front.

Before I could draw a breath to tell him I was all right, he tossed me to one of the other soldiers with him like I was a sack of grain.

The soldier caught me, carried me back to the others, and set me back on my feet next to a huge stag.

I wobbled and leaned against the creature.

“Stay there!”

the soldier shouted in my face and then turned and ran back into the fight.

The stag turned its shaggy head to look at me and then gave a deep-throated grunt, ending with a sharp barking sound.

Normally, it would have terrified me, but I was too far gone to care.

I put up a shaking hand to the back of my head, and it came away bloody.

I sat down hard on the snow beside the stag and slumped slowly backward. I was suddenly so tired…my last thought was that this would be as good a place as any to take a little nap.