In my veins, the freezing rain took hold, blended into my very essence, singing its magic into the cells that made up my body and soul, and the world began to expand. I sucked in a deep breath as my Lady spun me round and round, a marionette on strings. Her laughter flowed like honey in my ears, her songs were siren’s breath, and I knew that no matter what she would always be with me, because I was now a part of her.
At the core of my being, I was no longer alone. Undutar was with me.
Joy took hold, the snowflakes whirling in time to the music that raced by on the wind. I wanted to dance and sing. The Lady had chosen me, I was her handmaiden. I was Ar’jant d’tel—and I would someday be her voice.
Visions of leading her rituals in the temple, of walking in her glory through the rest of my days, of being the Priestess Incarnate washed over me and I dropped my head back and let out a slow, luxurious laugh.
At that moment, I noticed someone coming into view, through the astral fields of magic and mist, and he was glorious. He was not a sprite, but human, albeit quite short. His long dark hair tumbled to his shoulders, and his eyes were molten pools of chocolate. He was fair of face, though his jaw had a vaguely rugged look to it. He was slight of build, but the power in his walk—he was no acolyte.
He wore robes as blue as the summer morning, and when he saw me his eyes lit up with a warmth that immediately sucked me in.
“Vikkommin, my High Priest–to-be, meet Pirkitta, Ar’jant d’tel, who will one day take her place as my High Priestess. Together, as consorts, the two of you will be trained to take over my temple and to lead my order. Get to know one another—you will have a long lifetime together.”
And so Vikkommin and I came together, on the astral in front of our Lady, and began to explore each other’s energy. He leaned down, took me in his arms, and as his hungry lips met mine, the world faded and I lost my heart to him.
I SHOOK MY head, surprised to see that we were almost at the edge of the forest. I’d been wrapped in memories for some time, and the snow had built up on my shoulders. I brushed it off, letting out a long sigh.
Vikkommin, what happened to you? What happened that night?
We walked in silence, Smoky and Howl striding through the depths, Rozurial aiding Camille through the drifts. I glanced down at the dragon on whose shoulder I sat, thinking that we made for a strange little party of five. And how far I’d come—how far I’d fallen—from the day Undutar named me her Ar’jant d’tel.
And yet, I was not unhappy. Life as the High Priestess would have been wonderful and strange and magical, but when I looked over my life, except for the inability to have children, I was content. I was helping out in a cause where I was sorely needed. I had extended family and a new love. And friends. I’d never expected anything spectacular before I was first approached by Undutar’s envoys—and though the land I lived in now was far from the shores of my birth, it was a beautiful and vibrant land.
Once I broke the curse and put Vikkommin to rest I’d be content to return to Seattle and marry Bruce. If you’re innocent , a little voice whispered inside. If you’re innocent.
“There—up ahead. Just a little farther and we’ll be on the Skirts of Hel.” Howl pointed, looking relieved in the growing dusk. The snow was still swirling and we glided silently along the path.
We were almost to the edge of the tree line when a swishing sound slashed through the air, and Camille screamed. Smoky turned, abruptly, catching me as I fell from his shoulder. He sat me down behind Howl and I peered around from behind the Great Winter Wolf Spirit to see what was happening.
Camille was fighting against something—all I could see was a shine that flickered like strands of hair. And then Smoky was by her side, as well as Roz, and they were struggling to free her. Howl held me back by the shoulder.
“Snow spiders. Do not draw near them, Iris, for their venom is deadly and could kill you with one bite.” He glanced around, pulling out his sword. “Where there is one, there will be others.”
Smoky lashed out with his talons and Camille stumbled, as if freed from something. It was then that, glancing into the trees, I caught sight of her attackers. They were hanging down, a foot or so above her head, from the tops of the interlacing trees that crossed the path—a pair of wide, squat, joint-legged spiders. Almost alabaster, they shimmered in the late afternoon light, and it was then I noticed we’d been traveling under a layer of webs that spanned the treetops along the entire path.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” I whispered.
Howl glanced down at me. “Would it have made the journey easier, to know?”
“No, no—I guess not.” But the sight of the webs brought back thoughts of the web-laden forests of Darkynwyrd and of the hobo werespiders I’d fought with Camille and her sisters, and a chill raced up my spine as I saw a host of scuttling creatures racing along through the nets of silk.
Camille broke free from the snare line, thanks to Smoky, and leapt back, trying to shake off the webs. Roz pulled out a jagged dagger and began thrusting his Kris knife at the nearest spider.
Smoky leapt up and landed a blow on the other one, yanking his hand away as the creature struck at him with very visible fangs. The spiders were the size of a dinner plate, and a faint bluish glow emanated from their fangs. Magical.
Camille backed up, chanting something.
“Damn it, I suppose they’re immune to ice and snow magic, too,” I said, feeling useless.
Howl nodded. “I’m afraid so, Mistress Iris.”
A wave of discontent raced through me, and I began to stew. What good was I if I couldn’t help my friends when they’d come along just for me? As my irritation grew, I found myself focusing on the spiders that were now scuttling down to the ground as Smoky and Roz sought to keep them from reaching Camille without getting bitten themselves in the process.
And just like that, I felt it well up—the same energy that had come rolling through when we’d faced the Tregarts who had killed Henry. The same energy that—
Before I could capture the memory, the rolling wave hit and I forced them into the stream of energy that poured forth from my outstretched hands.
With a little shriek, the spiders appeared to explode, but at second look, they were simply reversed. Turned inside out like a cast-off shirt. Torn to shreds.
I gasped. Once again, I hadn’t realized what I’d been doing, although I knew I’d been driven to do something to protect my friends.
Smoky and Rozurial stared at the two bloody bodies, and then, together with Camille, they looked at me.
“Iris,” Camille whispered. “You did it again. You . . . They’re . . .”
“Yes, I can see,” I said, not sure of what to think. “I thought once it might be a fluke, but twice . . .” I’d had this power when I was in training to be High Priestess and thought it stripped away from me, but now twice it had come flooding back, when I felt weak and angry and helpless.
I glanced up at them. “I was capable of much more than this when I was in my training. I could have so easily torn Vikkommin from his body and thrust him into shadow. So the question is, did I?”
“No,” Howl said. “The question is, shall we remove ourselves from the White Forest before the rest of their eightlegged brethren come to capture us?” He nodded to the webs where the spiders looked to be amassing.
“Fuck! Run!” Camille said, grabbing my hand and struggling toward the entrance. “I have no desire to be lunch to a bunch of spiders.”
Smoky grabbed the both of us up and, tossing us over his shoulders, ran with long leaping strides through the snow. Five minutes and we stood on the edge of the Skirts of Hel. The edge of the world.