She was cold, and she stared lovingly at the flickering candle flame. The heat from it would gather in the snow cave – not enough to melt the snow overhead but more than ample to prevent death from cold. Above her she could hear the ferocity of the blizzard raking across the mountains, talons of icy sleet ripping at the land.
Here I am safe, she thought. She closed her eyes. Safe? Only from the blizzard.
She had seen the fear in Fell’s eyes as he promised to stand beside her against the wizard and his demons, but more than this she had remembered the awful events of her childhood …
They had been enjoying a supper by the fire – when all the lanterns went out, as if struck by a fierce wind. Only there was no wind – only a terrible cold that swept across the room, drowning the heat of the fire under an invisible wave. Mother had not screamed, or shown any sign of panic, though the fear was there on her careworn features. She had leapt to the far wall, dragging down a sabre and tossing it to Father who stood silently in the centre of the room staring at the door. He looked so strong then, with his full red beard glistening in the cold firelight.
‘Get under the table, girl,’ he told the six-year-old Sigarni. But she had scrambled to be beside her mother, who had drawn two hunting knives from their sheaths. Sigarni tugged her mother’s skirt.
‘I want a knife,’ she said. Her mother forced a smile and looked at her father. Little Sigarni didn’t understand the look then, but now viewing it from the distance between adulthood and infancy, she knew they were proud of her.
The door exploded inwards and a tall man stood there, dressed in crimson. Sigarni remembered his face; it was long and lantern-jawed, the eyes deep-set and small, the mouth full-lipped. He was carrying no weapon.
‘Ah,’ he said, ‘everyone ready to die, I see. Let it be so!’ In that moment a huge tear appeared in her mother’s side, blood gushing from the wound. Father leapt forward, but staggered and shouted in pain as blood welled from talon marks on his neck. Something brushed Sigarni’s dress and she saw the tear across her shoulder.
Father swung his claymore. It struck something invisible, black blood appearing in the air. Screaming his battle-cry, he swung on his heel and sent the sword out in a second whistling arc. It thudded into another unseen assailant – and stuck there. Blood gushed from Father’s mouth and Sigarni saw his chest rip open, his heart explode from the cavity and fly across the room into the outstretched hands of the man in red. Sigarni’s mother hurled one of her knives at the man, but it flew by him. Turning she leapt for the window, pushing it open, then swung back into the room and sprang towards Sigarni, grabbing her by her dress and lifting her from her feet. Spinning, she hurled the terrified child through the window.
Sigarni hit hard and rolled, then came upright and looked back at the cabin. Her mother shouted: ‘Run!’
Then her head toppled slowly from her shoulders …
And Sigarni had run, slipping and sliding down muddy slopes, panic-stricken and lost, until at last she came to the pool by the Falls…
Jerking her mind back to the present, she peeled off her gloves and extended her hands to the candle-flame. Fell would be angry that she had left him behind, but he could not fight the demons. The forester would fare no better than her parents. No. If she had to die it would be alone.
No, she decided, not alone. I will find a way to kill some of them at least.
She sat for more than an hour, listening to the storm. Finally it swept by and the silence of the night fell on the mountains. Lifting the candle she blew it out, returning it to her pocket. Then slowly she climbed from the ice cave, and continued on her way to the pool by the Falls.
The journey was not an easy one. Many natural landmarks were hidden under drifts, the very shape of the land subtly altered by wind-sculpted snow. Above her the clouds cleared, the stars shining bright. The temperature plummeted. Sigarni pushed on, careful to move with the minimum of effort, anxious not to waste energy or to become too hot within her winter clothing. Sweat could be deadly, for it formed a sheet of freezing ice on the skin.