Midwinter

“But it’s cold outside.”

“Yea, that’s what happens in the winter.”

“But really cold, like, unsafe cold.”

Pierce narrowed his eyes in scorn. “You’re half ice most of the time aren’t you? Do you even feel cold?”

Rakel slumped, her form disappearing into the over-large coat she’d commandeered from Pierce earlier; the sleeves flopping into her lap made her look like a child. 

“I still feel cold,” she muttered, petulant like a child arguing to her parents. 

“Sure, and I’m going to sit in an open watch tower for four hours, in the dark, at midnight, for fun and profit.” Pierce turned, shrugging on a heavy coat and picking a thick woolen cap off the wall hook.

Rakel stuck her tongue out at his back.

“Grow up, Ray, you’re twenty-six, not six.”

Rakel stuck her tongue out even further.

“If I’m not back by dawn, I’m probably dead from exposure. Or someone killed me. Or something ate me. I mean, either way, don’t wait on me.” He opened the door, the frigid wind blasting through the small room of the cottage, and stepped out. He paused and leaned back, sticking his head into the room. “Stay warm,” he said with a sly grin before slipping into the night.

Rakel stomped her foot, the frustration manifesting as the already chill room grew colder and frost spread from where her foot struck the floorboards, stretched across the floor and crept part way up the walls before she regained her composure. The man was insufferable. But he was right. The cold didn’t bother her anymore. Not since she’d made a deal with winter.

She should be out there, Pierce wasn’t a weak man by any means, but he was ill equipped if anything should happen. Guard duty with unarmed guards was really just an expendable alarm system. The best he could do was shout if someone tried to kill him. The same was true of every civilian who drew the short straw on the night watch. Of course, the actual guardsmen only patrolled during the day, when you could see further than your nose. And of course they were armed with swords, or maces, or even crossbows! How nice it must be to snooze in the kitchens if it grew too chilly on the wall.

Meanwhile, the civilians weren’t allowed in the kitchens at all. “Military area,” they say. Can’t have these commoners learning the closely guarded secrets of the kitchen’s jerked chicken or salted pork.

Rakel’s temper flared again as she thought about the injustice Pierce suffered every week. Especially recently, since he seemed to have night watch rotations more often than any other in the small town. It was probably because he’d refused to contribute to the guard salary beyond the tax already imposed on the baker and his wife. 

“Incentive to prioritise protecting their home and business should any misfortune befall the town,” is how they phrased it. They didn’t take kindly when Pierce asked how they could prioritize everyone’s home if everyone bought in. They were less pleased when he pointed out that the greatest misfortune the town had seen in recent years was when the guards got drunk and decided the Barmaid’s marital status of ‘married to the owner of the inn’ was a negotiable point.

They hadn’t come to blows then, but the two guards were fat with sloth and Pierce had forearms larger than their calves. They muttered under their breaths before moving on. Since then he’d been side eyed, subject to random inspections and had been volunteered for the midnight watch. Oftentimes his relief wouldn’t arrive and he would have a double watch until the Guard resumed day watch again. Even then they’d sometimes ‘forget’ to relieve him.

He’d taken it all with stoic ease, never letting them see anything but stone faced compliance with the rules. Rakel was less reserved about her opinion. Of course, what could a baker’s wife do?

Not much, not unless the Baker’s wife had recently encountered a sprite. A small but powerful envoy, the embodiment of the eternal cold that clung to the foothills of the mountain range. The very same cold that kept the town crisp and chilly, even during a late summer’s mid afternoon. The cold that, on this deep midwinter’s night, could kill Pierce while he stood watch, denied warmth or shelter by some corrupt lazy guardsmen.

Rakel shivered in the folds of Pierce’s day coat. Not from the cold, but from memory. She sank deeper into the overstuffed chair, pulling the coat tighter against her body and face, breathing deep the smell of her husband. She remembered the night she bonded with winter and became a witch. The bone deep stab of ice that subsumed her body and soul and left her without the need for protection from cold ever again. What she would give to share that protection with her husband.

A soft wind whirled around her, snowflakes manifesting and drifting aimlessly around her head while she pondered the issue. Suppose she could share her gift,she thought. There was no reason she couldn’t. While she’d begun testing the limits of her newfound gift, all her experiments had been external and manipulative in nature. She could form a ball of snow in her hand, she could lengthen the icicles hanging from the roof. Perhaps there was an opposite to the coin. To draw away the chill rather than strengthen it.

Before she’d completely formulated a plan, she was already on her feet, halfway out the door before she realized she was in nothing but a night gown and Pierce’s coat. While the cold certainly was no longer a concern there was presentation to consider. She would probably raise some unflattering questions if she was found traipsing across the village in the middle of the night wearing little more than bedclothes. A rushed dressing and she was again out the door into the biting cold.

The night had changed for her in many ways.  Her bond with winter continued to surprise her, so many little things that she hadn’t expected kept popping up. The immunity to cold hadn’t been a disappointment. It thrilled her that she’d no longer shiver in the night no matter how hot the hearth flame was, but she hadn’t expected the inability to be overwarm. Even in the kitchen, with the ovens at full burn, working hard kneading dough and she didn’t sweat a drop. At one point she’d reached into the oven and pulled bread pans out with her bare hand, and never noticed a thing. Heat, it seemed, was no threat to her either.

Other, more subtle things, surprised her. Her vision felt sharper. She could see more clearly and further than she’d been able to before. But the first night was a revelation. She could see at night as clearly as if it were day. The darkness of a moonless night was barely more trouble than an overcast day. Pierce had been right, in many ways she was better suited to the night’s guard than he was. But she hadn’t been the one to draw the duty. And the guards were unsurprisingly strict about ‘fairness of random chance’ especially when it would cause Pierce issues.

Pierce had been overly protective of Rakel for ages and he seemed slow to understand that she could keep herself safe. She had always been a deft hand with a knife, even before her bonding. But now? She smiled at the thought and she wiggled her fingers as an icicle manifested in her hand, growing long and tapering to a razor point. Now she was adept with more.

She continued walking towards the watch tower, her small joy overpowering her and giving her step a small bounce. Her gait unhindered by the slick conditions of the frozen path to the watchtower. Another benefit of winter bond, the terrain never impeded her and she moved across ice and snow as if it were solid earth. 

What winter didn’t give her, unfortunately, was an elevated sense of observation. So wrapped up in her joy and intent that she didn’t notice the pair of figures following her down the path.

————————–

The pair had been watching the baker’s home for months now. Every night he’d spent on midnight duty they’d stake out his home. Every night, after he’d gone, they’d tested the doors and windows, gingerly. Every night they’d found them securely barred from within. The process had become routine and despite the regularity of their actions, neither had thought further than getting inside. What they would do upon gaining entry was as much a mystery to them as to anyone, though few would categorize either man as gentle or kind. 

The guardsmen moved without a word. Neither spoke. Their movements were no longer their own and had not been for many months.  Not since Pierce had denied them the due they felt owed. Since then, the guardsmen had been possessed with the idea of revenge at the slight. Time had exaggerated the insult in their minds to an affront that could not go unanswered. 

Their petty attempts at revenge had been met with a blank stare and obedient compliance. Pierce’s refusal to step out of line drove them mad. But without at least an excuse of disobedience, they could not act. They may have been corrupt and vile, but they were well versed thugs and wielded the law as a shield.

While there was no curfew in effect, wandering around at night was highly suspicious. Perhaps tonight the bakers would finally give the guardsmen the excuse they’d been looking for.

————————–

Rakel made it to the unlit watch tower without incident. Without pausing she scaled the ladder to the watchtower quickly, hoping to catch Pierce off guard. She nearly succeeded as she breached the platform only to be faced with a rather severe looking dagger. She blinked owlishly as Pierce gasped and pulled back, recoiling at what he’d almost done.

“Edgy are we?” Rakel said with a smirk to her tone, “jumping at shadows?”

Pierce swallowed and looked away, gazing back into the darkness that surrounded the town.

Rakel frowned. Pierce had been expecting trouble. And it seemed unlikely that it was the first time.

“What have they done?” Her voice surprised her, it was almost a growl. The soft flurries blossomed to life once again and swirled around her, faster than they had in the past.

“Nothing. Not yet anyway. They haven’t been able to get up the ladder without making a racket, no matter how lightly they step. I thought tonight they were trying for speed rather than stealth.”

“Sneak up the ladder? To what end?”

Pierce swallowed hard and shrugged, still looking into the night. “Sometimes men fall over the wall. Can’t really get back over with the gate closed. As cold as it might be up here, there’s at least shelter from the wind. Down there you’re exposed to it all. Not many that go over come back. Seems to be a lot of the guys that have fallen lately have been… vocal critics of the new protection services being offered.”

Before she could respond, a soft snikt broke the still night air. On instinct she ducked and a bolt buried itself into the roof of the tower. The mark had been wide, but the message was clear. They weren’t bothering to hide intent anymore. Pierce ducked down beside her and sighed.

“I knew we’d leave town at some point. I always figured it would be our choice. Or at least if we were forced to run off, it’d be more exciting than this sad attempt to seige the lookout tower.”

Rakel grinned at his nonchalance. Then she smelled the smoke.

“Really? Setting fire to the lookout? That’s not going to raise any questions?”

“I mean, they can say I built an unauthorized fire and fell asleep. I’d be a cautionary tale to the troops and a warning to those that can see through the lie.”
“Now is not the time for rationalizing! They’re trying to kill us!”

“Rakel, you’re a wizard now right? Can’t you just…?” Pierce waggled his fingers.

“Wizards study Pierce, I barely know what I’m doing and I can’t just make it go…”

She turned and moved to the edge, looking down over the outer wall of the town. Gently, she placed a hand on the wall, frost forming and spreading from her hand and down along the wood to the ground outside. Layer upon layer slowly spread down and began to pile up, slowly forming a soft blanket a few feet deep. She faced Pierce again, his eyes torn between fascination and fear. She winked and pitched backwards off the tower and embraced the cold.

Pierce yelped and ran over to the edge, his fear transformed into laughter as Rakel rolled out of the snowbank and brushed herself off. With a whoop that was swallowed by the crackling of the fire, now licking up the ladder, he dove off and was swallowed alike.

“Woo! Chilly! I think some got down my pants!” He shook his legs, trying to shake it loose.

Rakel rushed and embraced the man, a deep kiss from the escape they’d performed masking her fear. She held him tight and concentrated on drawing out the cold from him. Of leeching away the winter so he wouldn’t suffer. Pierce stopped shaking his leg and returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around her. When they parted, color had returned to his brown skin, the red winter flush gone. 

“Hey, I feel toasty!”

Rakel smiled. “Let’s go. We need to get back to the house and grab what we can. I want to be gone before they realize we aren’t in the tower.”
Pierce nodded, “We’ll have to get through the wall somewhere along the way but I think we can manage.”

The pair turned and fled into the night, following the wall that circled the town to a spot close to home.

They paused for a moment and pondered how to breach the wall. Rakel reached out and again gently caressed the wall and icy shelves formed where her hand passed. With no regard for the cold or the slickness of the ice they climbed up the wall as easily as if they had used a ladder. The descent on the other side was another dive into a fluffy snow bank.

As they approached their home, their glee was snuffed.

Hand in hand they rounded the last corner before their home. The landscape before them brought them to a standstill. The smoke and flames had engulfed the small cottage. Neighbors, bundled in heavy coats, stood in a loose group, well away from the blaze, and shared hushed whispers. Before either of the couple could shake off the shock of seeing their home aflame, a shout rose from the gathered neighbors.

“The witch! Call the guard, the witch is here!”

Without hesitation, the pair turned and fled, blindly turning corners, their feet trying to outrun the shouts of condemnation trailing behind. Too quickly they reached the wall. Rakel slapped her hands to the wall, hurriedly trying to build fresh handholds, but the shock had Rakel’s thoughts spinning and she could do little more than coat the wall in a thin sheet before the guards arrived.

“Keep going, I’ll buy us time.”

Rakel frowned, frantically trying to refocus her thoughts and energy on the wall before her. They’d been in sticky situations before and they’d always pulled through. All she needed to do was focus on getting an ice ladder formed and they’d be free. She and Pierce could scale it but the guards would struggle with the slick ice. By the time they managed to deal with it she and Pierce would be gone.

Behind her, the sound of fighting began. 

Nothing to worry about, Rakel. Pierce has handled worse odds before.

The sounds of violence continued, grunts and thuds as Pierce dealt with the armed men with his bare hands. Though he looked a paunch smith, the man was ferociously strong and far too agile for his size.

Focus.

She closed her eyes and let the embrace of winter consume her. The chill sunk deeper into her core, permeating every part of her. Somewhere, a spark deep within her resisted. Some part of her refused to fully submit to the bond. Until it did, her power would be great, but limited.

She was jerked from her reverie by a hand on her shoulder. Silence had fallen, Pierce had beaten down the guards and before her, an elaborate ladder had formed. They were free now.

Rakel turned, a sad smile on her face, “Let’s go.”

“Yes, lets, witch,” grunted the guard.

Rakel’s smile fell. Beyond the guard she could see Pierce’s still form. The beaten and bloody figure lay atop two guardsmen he’d taken out before the remaining three had overwhelmed him.

The resistant spark flickered and was snuffed out by winter’s call.

The scream of fury that poured from Rakel held a physical force. The guardsmen  holding her were not prepared for it. The first guard was thrown back and into a building. He hit hard, the wood structure splintering, fell to the ground and did not rise. The remaining two guards rushed forward, weapons in hand.

Rakel screamed again, throwing her hands forward and a chill wind blew forth. Both guards were locked midstep by the gale, frozen in place. Rakel held her arms out, pouring forth ice and cold and fury and sorrow until the men were frozen sculptures. Dead. A snap of the wrist and a long blade of winter appeared in her hand. Silent now, she stepped forward and with a rapid snkt the guard sculptures exploded.

Shouting and footsteps carried forth from the town center as more guards and more neighbors were stirred.

With a last mournful look at her fallen husband, her only love, and the legacy of her humanity, she turned and, in a swirl of snowflakes, she vanished into the winter night.

————————–

It would be a week before another supply caravan could make it to the village. A sudden snow squall had made passage near impossible. Upon arrival, the caravan was struck by the silence of the normally boisterous village. The lack of guards at the gate was also unusual as the guards were always eager to collect tolls. Cautiously, the caravan entered the village and found it seemingly empty

Deeper into the town the caravan finds the main square decorated with a new feature. Directly in its center someone had erected a massive ice sculpture of the Winter Lady, an old local fable and nursery story. Surrounding the statue, in a variety of poses of deference, fear, and defiance, were ice sculptures of every single villager. At the base of the statue lay the entirety of the town guard, butchered as a sacrificial offering.