Bound to the Waking Dragon

Prologue

Sereh looked at the endless pristine snow before her and breathed in heavily, trying to still the anger that seethed in her veins.

The view ahead was perfect, virginal. Untouched by any foot.

Behind her, the snow bore the mark of her presence and the heavy bundle strapped against her chest. Her feet, encased in snowshoes, had woven an erratic path across the landscape.

The trail was fuelled by her fury and shaped by the evolving texture of the uneven terrain.

The sun shone mutely yellow, huge on the horizon. It offered little heat, certainly not enough to alleviate the glacial conditions. Her tears froze on her unprotected cheeks. As well wrapped as she was, only her eyes and her nose were totally exposed to the blistering chill.

Even so, she felt warm. She wondered whether it was her clothing that kept the cold at bay – or the hatred coursing through her body with every jarring step.

The rest of her was covered in thick animal furs.

Her legs were encased in trousers of white and grey hare fur, over the top of a pair of leggings made from stitched-together sheepskin.

She wore a plain tunic crafted from the wool of those sheep, while her cloak was made from the coat of a giant wolf, its pure white broken by a black line running straight down her back.

Her head and ears were covered in the fur of a Long Day brown hare.

Midnight sealskin gloves covered her hands.

Whatever it was, she was glad of it.

Total silence surrounded her, apart from her harsh breathing.

The soft padding of Arrow’s four paws over the powder-like surface offered the only comfort.

Sereh’s feet slowly sank as she stopped to catch her rasping breath.

Her throat burned from the bitter cold. Hastily wiping her nose, mouth and eyes on an icy sleeve, she pulled the hare fur scarf closer to her face.

That way, she’d warm the air before breathing it into her lungs.

She fiddled with the straps of her heavy backpack, which dug into her shoulders.

The movement disturbed the burden attached to her chest, and she rearranged it, too.

Comfortable once more, Sereh lifted her foot and discovered her snowshoe-clad feet had sunk into the cloud-like drift. She was now ankle-deep in snow.

With a heave of effort, she released her feet.

Her breath made white plumes dance on the air.

Ahead, the steep rise continued, and she laboured to crest it.

Arrow already waited for her on the summit.

The wolf-dog’s breath formed a white fog, even though she panted with her mouth closed.

Arrow knew not to risk her tongue freezing on full exposure to the frigid air of the first of the Long Day.

Sereh reached the summit with a huff of exertion and allowed a few deep breaths to calm her rapidly beating heart. Shielding her eyes from the unaccustomed brightness, she couldn’t help but marvel at the vista opening up before her.

The long-missed sun had reached its zenith in the ice-violet sky.

Its feeble light allowed her to see the full majesty of Vatna Jokull, the hulking glacier that stretched as far as the eye could see.

A massive mountain range, snow-shrouded except for their dark, wind-swept peaks, from which some said fire sometimes erupted, bordered the glacier, which glowed a rainbow of precious gems where thin tendrils of sunlight reached its smooth glass surface.

The view was breathtaking – awe-inspiring from a distance. Up close, the glacier was deadly.

Such thoughts reminded her of the beauty strapped to her chest and protected under her fur cloak.

It wouldn’t be for much longer. Soon, she would kiss those auburn curls goodbye.

She would never smell the innocent skin again.

Her heart broke afresh with the thought.

Warm tears joined the frozen tracks on her cheeks.

But her rage didn’t return. She was hollowed and more alone than ever, even though she had Arrow and the baby for company. For now.

Sereh didn’t descend from the peak. She turned and walked towards the dull yellow sun.

If she carried on along the ridge’s path, she wondered if she’d walk right off the end of the horizon and into its glowing heat.

The thought momentarily cheered her. Meeting her end in heat and fire would be better than slowly freezing to death.

Then she could join the baby. They’d be together forever.

But as she reached her destination, she realised it was time to make her decision. She could return to her home. The baby couldn’t.

Sereh loved the helpless baby strapped to her chest. She couldn’t help it.

What she couldn’t reconcile was her desire to live, even if it meant leaving the baby exposed and alone to die on the frozen, rocky overhang.

Her life was one of servitude and misery with no hope of escape.

Still, she craved that life more than death.

She understood her love for the baby must be a poor imitation of the real thing if she could put herself first.

Her anger and frustration boiled over once more.

With it, white-hot images of her imprisoner flashed before her eyes.

She hated him, detested him, and was entirely reliant on him.

Her survival in this harsh environment depended on his goodwill.

Leaving the baby here was the only way to ensure it.

It was simple; take the baby home, and she’d die; leave him here, and she’d live.

Sereh agonised over a decision she thought she’d already made.

She stood desolately staring into the slowly sinking sun, casting the horizon in a dazzling array of mauves and pinks.

Vatna Jokull was abruptly thrust into shadow.

With a start, Sereh felt a stirring of unease.

She’d delayed too long. Night would fall soon, the sun already dipping low.

Without the sun, the temperature would plummet.

An impenetrable darkness would descend. She’d have to fumble her way home, with no means to see and no way of retracing her steps.

She would surely perish, regardless of how much time she spent deliberating what she should do with her burden.

She had no more time. She must act now if she wished to stand a chance of living through this.

With renewed sobs, Sereh quickly released her precious bundle from its cosy nest under her cloak.

She removed her sealskin gloves and undid the knots on the fur carrier.

She kissed the gentle curls and dimples on the fat little face as she lifted him into her arms. She smelled him, inhaling his scent one last time.

He didn’t stir from his sleep, even as the chill air turned his curls rigid and his breath to a freezing fog.

Leaving him inside his padded sling and fully clothed, she placed him on the usual icy overhang, precariously balanced.

Sereh ran her fingers delicately over his sleeping face and fixed his image in her mind.

She would remember him. He deserved to be remembered.

With trembling limbs, she resolutely turned away.

Her breath caught in her throat. Momentarily, panic flooded her as she choked on her sobs, unable to breathe for the grief that felt like physical pain.

She stumbled, blinded by tears, trembling so violently she was scarcely able to stand.

Only the steadying feel of Arrow’s fur beneath her bare fingers allowed her to follow through with her intention to leave and to recover enough breath to allow her to do so.

Erann heaved on the great wooden doors sealing the animal barn, his powerful arm muscles straining against the unfamiliar motion. The doors screeched and groaned as they always did on first being opened for the Long Day.

He’d already cleared a path in the waist-high snow, which enabled the doors to swing open.

They shrieked in complaint but gave and opened on the watery blue of the First Day.

Though the light was weak, every animal head instantly turned towards him.

They blinked in the long-missed brightness infiltrating the gloomy barn.

Dust motes swirled in the air as they were released from their hibernation.

Erann moved quickly to release the animals from their pens.

They couldn’t go far, but then, neither could he.

Not yet. The thaw hadn’t begun. Snow lay thickly carpeting the landscape.

Its illumination was almost unbearable to the eyes, so used to the deep velvet black and flickering of candle light.

The motley collection of farm animals shuffled towards the smell of fresh air and the promise of Long Day grazing.

Erann strode past them on his way to the fodder storage.

It was no longer overstuffed with food for the Long Night, but remarkably, enough remained.

Erann forked it out into the centre of the barn so the animals could help themselves.

Typically, they were all fed in their stalls, as much to keep the place tidy as for any other reason.

Yesterday, he’d cleaned the stalls in preparation for their journey today.

He didn’t want to encourage them to make further messes, which he didn’t have time to tidy up.

As Erann finished the task, a wet nudge on his shoulder had him turning towards Thunder, his father’s horse.

The animal stood as close to him as possible.

His silver-grey eyes were intelligent. Erann imagined the questions the horse was trying to ask him about his behaviour today and yesterday.

He’d never before tended to the animals as soon as the sun first rose on the Long Day.

But with the decision made, there was no need to hesitate now the first faint flashes of green illuminated the sky.

He’d known with the arrival of the green streaks across the sky yesterday that today there’d be full light.

However brief today’s sunlight was, he wanted to take full advantage.

He’d get his mother into the company of others.

Only then would she become well again. Only then would her desire to live be rekindled.

She needed to be away from the isolation of their dilapidated steading and the memories which hovered, like shades of the past, in every corner.

Stroking Thunder’s neck, he examined the horse one final time for any signs of injury.

In the darkness of the Long Night, sometimes such things could be missed.

He’d done the same yesterday but found himself repeating the familiar motions of running his hands down his legs and along his back.

His decision may well be made, but still Erann hesitated.

His intended actions were decisive. In taking them, he would surrender the hopes and dreams of his adolescence.

Faced with the moment, reluctance tugged at him.

As Erann angrily shook his head, Thunder looked at him in puzzlement, but the time was now.

Reaching across the horse’s back, he took down the saddle and secured it to the horse’s back.

Thunder would carry a careful load today.

Erann wanted to be sure everything was done correctly. He would take no chances.

‘Mother is unwell,’ Erann found himself explaining his actions to Thunder as he worked.

‘We must do this, or she’ll die. We must do this now, as crazy as it is to leave our home so soon after the return of the Long Day.

But we’ve already lost so much. My father wouldn’t allow it. I can’t allow it,’ he concluded.

Thunder listened, or so Erann fancied. As he finished securing the saddle, Thunder turned to face him.

Tears pooled in the gentle creature’s eyes.

Erann’s eyes watered in response in his own.

He wiped them away and led Thunder forwards to the welcome light of day and the less-welcome penetrating cold.