Interlude – Lord Roar Lisika, Warden of the West, House of the Snow Leopard
Interlude
LORD ROAR LISIKA, WARDEN OF THE WEST, HOUSE OF THE SNOW LEOPARD
Many turns had passed since the Warden of the West had visited the site where his parents and brother died.
It was rare that frost giants ventured out of their mountain peaks, but on that foul day, they had.
With their appearance, a great family of Winter’s Realm was broken. Nearly wiped off the face of the realm.
Roar could not recall the time after his family died well. The fever from the blight destroyed his mind for days and his body for far longer, but it was said that while their castle in Guldtown was in an uproar, a maid fled with the Princess Isolde in her arms.
When young Roar awoke, his eyes took in a changed world. His family dead. A title now upon his head. And the baby faerie he’d been commanded to wed, gone to the stars only knew where.
And though not a hint of his family’s blood remained upon the snow of this cursed place, Roar felt their presence.
He had each time he came here and that worried him.
Had their souls been denied entry into the afterworld?
Had the Fates cut the threads of his father, mother, and brother, and fed it to the serpent that wound through the stars, preventing them from knowing a moment of peace, even in death?
Likely because of Roar’s new leg hindering him in deep snow, the king commanded Roar to stay behind and not help search the area. A mercy, he supposed, though with the sensation of spirits all around and no distractions to occupy his mind, it did not feel like one.
To stave off the aches that came with flying, Roar shifted in his saddle only for his muscles to tighten and send a jolt of pain through his leg. Somehow that same agony extended all the way into the metal that was now a part of him. The phantom ache made Roar’s jaw tightened.
Every morning when he awoke, he swore vengeance against Isolde Falk—he could no longer think of her as Neve, the stray he’d picked up and tried to love, if only because it was what his parents had once wanted. No, now he saw only a duplicitous female. A Falk.
Isolde, however, wasn’t the only fae Roar wanted revenge on. Vale would pay too, though Roar would not bring that up around his new ally, the king.
Roar snorted at the notion. An ally! After all the king had put him and his family through, Roar would never stoop so low.
He would marry the king’s daughter, but he’d only requested to do so because that sort of request would be expected of someone who wished for an alliance with the Crown of Winter.
A pardon, a place on the king’s council, and the hand of his daughter—all very normal appeals when one had such valuable information.
His Majesty hadn’t seemed at all surprised by Roar’s petition. Which was just as Roar had planned.
But a true ally, the king was not. Roar only needed to wait, to be patient. Soon enough, vengeance on those who had wronged his family would be his. Then he’d claim what he deserved.
“Nothing in the woods.” The king’s voice hit Roar’s ear. He twisted to find the monarch and his golden-cloaked Clawsguards emerging from the trees.
“No?” Roar asked dryly.
Had the Ice Scepter been here for two decades, he, or the loyal fae he’d sent to search this area, would have found it and brought it to the warden already.
“Not a bleeding thing.” Magnus swung a leg over the gryphon, and the beast, better trained than most of its kind, shifted its wings to oblige. “I wish to go to the closest town. It’s the same one where Vale withdrew coin. There we can make inquiries.”
Finally. Roar had suggested this course of action two days ago, but King Magnus denied him. The White Bear wished to focus on the Ice Scepter, and let others find Isolde for him, which didn’t surprise Roar, but frustrated him when the warden had other goals in mind.
“An excellent idea, Majesty.” Roar gripped the reins tighter. “Shall we fly?”
Roar stood in the middle of the street, assessing the village of Eygin.
He’d never visited the place, though this village was, technically, under his protection.
The mountains surrounding the village crawled with dangerous creatures and this particular stop on the map was simply too remote to bother with.
That a place so small supported a coinary was shocking.
Almost as shocking as the fact that Isolde and Vale had made it so far south with so many humans. Roar’s property.
Or they had been.
His fists clenched, anger rolling through him again.
He did not know what Isolde and Vale had done with the humans—most likely they were dead in the snow somewhere in the west—a feast for the wild creatures and ogres.
Roar didn’t care. But if they were dead, then he hoped their deaths weighed on Isolde’s shoulders.
He hoped that the weakness of the humans had slowed her, harmed her.
He wished three times that pain for Vale.
But he wanted neither of them to die. Not yet.
Not without his presence. Not without them knowing that he’d helped the king find a Hallow of the realm, one that could stifle the ever-worsening weather.
Once that was done and Winter’s Realm was to rights once more, he wanted them to watch Roar take the throne for himself.
Then they can die. Magnus too. Roar stared at the coinary facade where the king was now interrogating leprechauns.
He doubted the king would find anything more than he already knew about in the coinary. Rather, he’d have to speak with the locals who frequented places where one laid their head at night. Vale and Isolde would have had to stay the night in this dunghole.
Above, a white hawk shrieked. Roar had seen the bird circling the village and the surrounding mountain side for an hour, no doubt looking for mice or something else to eat. Roar took the bird’s call as a sign to do something. A sign to act from one predator to another.
“Tell His Majesty I’ll return soon,” Roar threw the command to the Clawsguard who was waiting outside the coinary with him.
He walked toward the Frozen Toes Tavern, the best tavern in the town and with an attached inn, or so he’d been told. It wasn’t much to his eye, but as Roar opened the door, he found two dozen fae staring at him. Whispers ran through the crowd as he approached the bar.
“Mi lord? What can I get you?” The dryad barkeep stood at attention, his skin bark-like and arms looked rather like stiff branches but were ready to serve all the same.
Roar leaned over the countertop, seemingly at ease in this place. Though his face was now scarred, he remained handsome and charming, and he intended to use each quality and anything else he might need to gather information.
“Your best ale, is it local?”
“We grow everything in greenhouses outside of town. The water is fed straight from the mountains.”
“Perfect. Your favorite local ale then.”
The barkeep poured the ale, frothing at the top, and set it before Roar.
A gold bear slid across the barter, and the tender’s eyes widened.
“It’s only a copper, mi lord.”
“I’m looking to purchase more than ale.”
The barkeep pocketed the coin. “What else do you need?”
“Information.”
“‘Bout?”
“Word has it that a prince and princess came through here recently. Did they stay here?”
“They did.”
“Were you working?”
“I wasn’t. My brother was. They stayed in three rooms.”
Yes, Sir Caelo had been with Vale that night, and one human—the same one Prince Gervais had brought to court. Isolde’s friend, he later learned. Roar remembered the slave’s face. The dark upturned eyes, the raven-wing hair, and the small stature.
But three rooms would not fit the humans they’d liberated.
“How many were in their party?”
“Four.”
So they’d put the humans somewhere while they stayed at the inn. Kept them in the woods?
“And they came from what direction?”
“West. From the deep mountains.”
Roar took a drink of ale. It was rather good. He lifted his horn, which pleased the dryad.
“What’s to the west of here?”
While this was his territory, Roar was not as familiar with the few villages dotting the mountain ranges.
“Nothin’ much.” The dryad shrugged. “Mountains all the way to the other kingdoms.”
It was impossible, given the distance they needed to travel and the days that Vale and Isolde had been gone, that they’d seen the humans to another kingdom. What else could they have done with the slaves? Kept the humans in the mountains?
Or perhaps the humans had remained in the woods while the fae ventured into town and the humans were still actually traveling with them?
“Which direction did they go when they left?” Roar asked.
“They took the high road to Vitvik, or so says my son. He was huntin’ goats on the mountainside and saw them leave.”
Roar sat up. Vitvik was a small city, and he still found it difficult to believe that all the fae in a city would allow humans to live alongside them. He was not the only one with harsh feelings toward the weaker species.
“Are there towns or villages along the way to Vitvik?”
The barkeep appeared deep in thought as he polished a horn. “There was once, but no longer. Too many wild orc tribes in this part of the kingdom.”
Once. Were Vale and Isolde taking the humans to a ghost town? Would he find both his slaves and his enemies in one place?
“Can you show me which road they took? And provide a map showing any of the smaller ones?” Just in case, it was best to have all the information on hand.
“‘Course, mi lord. I’ll send the server to get one right now.” The barkeep looked as though he wished to say more but did not.
Roar slid another gold across the table. “Tell me.”
“The path to Vitvik is perilous. Often much colder than the surrounding area—locals think the passages trap the wind, but there are also creatures in the mountains. Monsters. You’ll take care if you go that way?”
Roar’s ears perked up. It was said that until a fae worthy of ruling Winter’s Realm held the Ice Scepter, the magic of the kingdom would continue to fall into disarray. Cold came with that. Maybe the Ice Scepter had not traveled so far from the site of his parents’ deaths after all?
“Mi lord? I’d be upset if I sent you that way, and you found harm.”
“My party will take care,” Roar assured him. “Thank you for your service.” He stood, not bothering to finish the ale, and left the tavern.
He rejoined his travel party to learn that the king had found nothing of importance at the coinary. That failing frustrated Magnus and left him at a loss until Roar divulged what he’d learned. His idea about the Scepter, too, just to sweeten the deal.
The king grasped at the idea, flailing for some lead, and they took to the skies.
They followed the small road the barkeep pointed out as it unraveled through narrow mountain passages. They searched for signs of passing through, burnt wood from a fire being one sign. They hoped, with the beating of their gryphons’ wings, that finally, they’d have a true lead.
“I’m going lower,” the king shouted over the wind. “To ride through that tunnel through the rock.”
Roar squinted and saw what the king meant.
A tunnel ran through the mountain in a place where it would have been too precarious to carve a road on the mountainside.
Likely of dwarven creation. In no way did Roar think that his enemies or the humans would all be in there, hiding.
However, the tunnel could hold other clues.
“I’ll join you,” Roar said.
The king did not deny him, so the pair descended, the Clawsguards behind, following their king.
Upon landing, the king directed a Clawsguard to ride first. Magnus took second position, and Roar followed with the other guards at the rear.
They entered the darkness of the tunnel, and a cold set in—one even more stifling than outside.
Recalling the barkeep’s words, Roar sat up straighter, a mistake as the stone ceiling dipped, and he nearly knocked himself out.
Magnus, however, continued forward, his hand running along the wall. Seconds passed before he stopped, twisted to meet Roar’s eyes.
“We need to find a way inside this mountain.”
“Of course, Majesty,” Roar replied, heart skipping a beat. For the first time in days, the king appeared very determined. “You believe they’re in there?”
“I think first of the Ice Scepter. Your own magic is frozen, is it not?”
“It is.”
“Then this area needs to be investigated.” The king paused. “If what I seek is not there, we continue to Vitvik, but if it is, and we have found it . . .” He let out a hard laugh. “Then she still cannot read her magic. A boon for me.”
Isolde had been powerful in the mines, but Roar believed the king was right. The Falk princess was unable to wield them like one who knew their magic inside and out should be able to use their powers.
That lack of depth of knowledge might be her downfall.