Chapter Six
The Marauders
Most people dreamed of falling. Not Julia. She dreamed of drowning.
The way she saw it, drowning was a thousand times more terrifying than falling. The majority of the time, falling from great heights meant instant death, maybe even a painless one. Drowning often meant being fully alert and fighting for your life as it slowly and painfully escaped you.
She was agonizingly aware of water, water, everywhere; water so cold it stung her body. The pressure grew as she sank deeper from the surface of the lake, gazing hopelessly at the section of the ice that had shattered just moments ago.
Her arms and legs flailed in a mad struggle to propel herself back toward the surface, to safety, but her efforts only seemed to quicken her descent. She tried to scream and watched in dismay as bubbles floated in the opposite direction toward the sunlight. Water rushed into her ears, mouth, and nostrils, forcing its way deep into her lungs.
Drowning was slow torture, promising death but never really fulfilling it. Her lungs were bursting from icy water and lack of oxygen. She could feel her consciousness fading, but it never really disappeared, not completely. It lingered just enough for her to experience the agony and terror of dying.
As she sank farther into the lake’s depths, still thrashing, a shape came into view.
Damon’s eyes were wide with the same panic that coursed through her. He, too, struggled against the water’s pressure, bubbles escaping from his lips. Their eyes met, and his grew even wider. He reached for her, his fingers stopping just inches away from her face…
Then, an explosion of light sent them spinning away from each other.
Julia awoke, gasping desperately for air. Then, it occurred to her that she didn’t need to gasp for air because she could breathe just fine. There was no water in her mouth, ears, or her lungs. She lay on her side on a hard, flat surface. A floor, she realized.
“Hey, Red!” Someone was gently shaking her shoulders. “Wake up. You’re okay. I’m right here with you.”
She blinked. In the light filtering in through a crack in the wall, she could just make out who it was. Damon’s handsome features were tight with worry. Julia blinked again, only half-consciously taking in the details around her. They were in the small room the barmaid, Angela, had offered them. It was somewhat musty, but they’d spent the night just fine here, at least until her dream woke them up.
The memory of the past couple of days trickled back to her. They were still on Frost Mountain, a magical prison, a death trap. But she was safe. She was alive. She wasn’t a bloated corpse at the bottom of a lake.
“You’re okay, Red,” Damon told her. His hand reached up to cup her cheek. “It was just a dream.”
She nodded wordlessly. His face hovered just inches away from hers, those beautiful green eyes of his locked on her. If she moved a little closer…
Not now , she chided herself.
Definitely bad timing. Besides, she doubted the thought had even crossed his mind. If she tried to kiss him, she doubted she’d survive the awkwardness that followed.
She pulled herself into a sitting position, refusing to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”
“You didn’t,” he replied. He sat back, and Julia couldn’t help feeling a twinge of disappointment. “I’ve been watching you sleep since sunrise.”
He’d been watching her? Her cheeks burned. “Oh.”
Damon got up then. “Get some more rest if you can. We’ll be leaving Dragon’s Den this morning. I’ll go into the town and gather whatever supplies we might need for the rest of our journey.”
“I can come with you.” She started to climb to her feet, but he stopped her with a stern look.
“Get some more rest,” he said again, more firmly this time.
Julia sat down again.
“I’ll be back soon,” Damon said. He stared down at her, and for a moment, she thought he was about to say something. Then he turned and left the room.
Julia didn’t go back to sleep. After the dream she’d just awakened from, sleeping was the last thing on her mind. It wasn’t the first time she’d dreamed of drowning, but it had been some time since it happened—weeks. No doubt, being around Damon after all these years must have brought the memory rushing back.
She walked over to the small window and peeked out. The town had already come alive from what she could see. Townsfolk had begun going about their businesses. Julia bit her lip. It felt a little strange being here around all these people after she’d spent several weeks traveling alone across this mountain. She’d known people were living on Frost Mountain, but a whole town?
And based on what Damon had told her, there could be hundreds of thousands of places like this. She’d thought she was simply lost, marooned on a mountain far from home. But the reality was that this place was her new home. She might as well kiss her job and her vacation goodbye. Her life was here now, with all these other people who were trapped on this mountain. With Damon.
In this foreign land, ice whispers roam
My once-wounded heart is now in Frost’s bitter home.
The words appeared in her mind just then, and she let out a groan of dismay as she realized she had no pen or paper to write them down with, no phone, either. Here on Frost Mountain, all she had was her mind, assuming she didn’t lose it in the cold.
“Just great,” she said with a sigh.
She certainly couldn’t remain here waiting for Damon to return without going stir-crazy. Without further thought, she left the room, stepping back into the tavern. Julia did a clean sweep of her surroundings. There were fewer customers in here than last night. Less than half a dozen men sat at different tables, silently sipping from mugs.
Figures , she thought.
The bars in Laudville had the most customers in the afternoons and evenings, too.
“You’re up early.”
The barmaid from last night, Angela, smirked at her from behind the counter.
“Are you going to keep standing over there, or what?”
Julia walked over to her and took a seat. Angela poured a drink into a nearby mug. Whatever kind of drink it was, Julia had no idea. She stared into the mug but made no move to take a sip.
“It’s just water,” the barmaid said, rolling her eyes. “I’m not giving you any of our ale on an empty stomach.” She grinned. “I never did get to introduce myself last night. I’m Angela Whiteclaw.”
“Julia Reel.” Julia glanced around the tavern once more.
“Don’t worry, your friend should be back soon,” Angela said as if reading her mind. She frowned at a man who had just walked in. “Speaking of friends returning…”
She wasn’t the only one gazing at him. Everyone else in the bar was staring, their drinks practically forgotten. The man was quite tall, his fur jacket doing little to conceal his massive build. A silver pendant on his chest gleamed. Julia’s gaze dropped to the floor. Standing by the man’s large feet was a silver wolf.
“There you are,” Angela said. “I thought you said you’d be here yesterday?”
The man shrugged, coming to take a seat next to Julia. “I got caught up. Sit, Laia.”
The wolf sat.
He turned to Julia, who realized she was still staring. “I remember you. You and Damon came in last night.”
“This is Julia Reel,” Angela said. “Julia, Rowan Flameheart. He’s my best friend, although sometimes I want to kick him into the snow.”
Julia’s gaze flicked from his face, and she realized she wasn’t the only one still staring. “Why’s everyone looking at you like that?”
Rowan’s expression darkened for a second, but the next moment he was smiling. “They don’t exactly like me.”
A memory from last night flashed through her consciousness. “Are you… are you a Collector?”
He blinked at her, and then he and Angela burst into laughter.
“What? No, of course not.” His grin broadened. “I’m one of the town guards. But I’m a dragon shifter. These aren’t welcoming times for dragon shifters in Dragon’s Den.”
“Isn’t this town literally named after your kind? I figure dragons should be top dogs around here or something.”
“Not since dragons set this town on fire,” Angela replied, picking up a rag and wiping the counter. “That was a long time ago, but there’s been a recent dragon attack. And people think Rowan’s got something to do with it.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Rowan said, “I’m the last dragon in Dragon’s Den.” He lowered his voice. “Except for Damon, of course, and he doesn’t count. Speaking of, where is he?”
“He went to get supplies. We’ll be leaving soon,” she replied quickly, still dismayed at his words. “It must be hard, having everyone think you’re guilty and knowing you’re not.”
He gave another shrug. “I thought some of these people were my friends. Then the attacks started, and they turned on me. Sometimes, the people you expect to hurt you are the ones who don’t. It’s usually the ones you least expect that end up hurting you.”
“Me, for starters.” Angela dropped her rag and punched him hard in the shoulder. Both friends laughed again.
A thought prodded the back of her mind. “What’s the deal with the Collectors, anyway? I heard they work for some guy named Grim Jim, but…” she said, her voice trailing off.
Angela’s jaw tightened. She and Rowan exchanged a look.
“The Collectors are marauders,” Angela said, her voice so low that Julia had to lean in closely to listen. “They do work for Grim Jim, and they… they find treasures for him, no matter the cost. Over the past few decades, they’ve plundered villages, separated families, and even killed just so they could get what they wanted: precious metals, rocks, rare creatures. Anything that could be valuable… it goes straight to the Ice Melter.”
“That’s horrible,” Julia said, suddenly considering asking for some of that ale. She wasn’t sure she could stomach more of what Angela was telling her. Whoever these Collectors were, they didn’t sound much different from terrorists. “Why do they work for him?”
It was Angela’s turn to shrug. “I don’t know, really. Some believe it’s the way they earn their keep—their services in exchange for food, clothing, survival. Others say Grim Jim forces the Collectors to do his bidding. Why they do what they do is still unclear. But I can tell you one thing: If you ever find yourself within range of a Collector, you’d better run. Run, and don’t look back.”