The Snow Song Page 3

  I felt a tear streak down my face. Her words pained me more than any wound I could remember taking. Her questions were the questions that tore me apart every night, and sent me wandering the halls in the calm quiet of the evening. The darkness held no answers, only more questions, yet I pursued it whenever I could not find answers, as though I might someday cast all my problems into the depth of its bottomless void. When the void became too much to bear alone, I looked for peace elsewhere. The yearning for Malice sent me to Snow for solace that could never be found in her arms.

  ". . . because I never want to hurt you." I replied, giving her the only answer that I could come up with. It was the single light of truth that I could cling to. I kept my distance so that I did not hurt her.

  ". . . but not being close to you is what hurts me." She said softly, her head downcast, her shoulders shaking as she cried once more. I got up from my chair and walked across to her. I held my hand down to her until she reached up and took it. I pulled her up and close to me, wrapping my only arm about her body.

  "I'm sorry, Laouna, but you needn't fear that I will leave you behind. You've been important to me longer than even you can even remember, and that will not change." I told her as she dried her eyes on my shoulder.

  "Before I woke up from my dream. . ." She said, which was how she referred to her coma. She could remember nothing of the times before that, other than a remote childhood with parents whose faces were a blur, lost to time. She could read and write, and knew her name, but whether intentionally, or as part of some defense system of her mind and body, she had blocked out everything leading up to her becoming a Knight of Ethan and beyond. Though she had always remembered my name.

  When she'd first come back from the coma, she woke, looked straight at me and said, "I love you, Lowin." I had been overjoyed. I had feared she would never wake, and the fear had been growing with each passing week. It wasn't until some hours had passed, and we began to talk, that I realized what had been lost during her long sleep.

  "We were together then, too, right?" She asked, as ever looking for the confirmation of our bond, as though my merely speaking the words guaranteed that we were one, and always would be.

  "Yes, we were together then. You've been beside me through all the hardest times, Laouna. I could not ask for a better companion." I said, and felt her pull back a little.

  She looked up at me, her face still tear-streaked, but her eyes cleared. Her face was serious.

  "Will you kiss me?" She pleaded, leaning towards me. Perhaps I should have said no, but I could not deny her when she was so freshly hurt. I leaned forward, and she came forward as well. Our lips met, hers puckered awkwardly, as a girl who has seen the action performed, but never tried it in person. We touched but briefly before I drew away, not willing to allow myself to give into the fire that suddenly burned from my lips down through my body. In the dark recesses of my mind, the Fell Beast stirred. It wanted Malice almost as badly as I did, but in different, terrible ways.

  I drew back, and Malice was smiling now, her cheeks a pleasant shade of flushed pink, beautifully offset by her deep red hair, and shimmering green eyes. The kiss had been brief, but it had been enough to make her happy. I returned her smile, a gesture I seemed only capable of when she was around. There were few enough occasions for joy in the world.

  "If you're feeling better," I said. "there is business for us to be about this morning. Snow will be waiting for us at the training yard, and you know how she gets when we're late. I also still have to send a servant to deal with Lheec's daughter. The girl will need a room for the night."

  Malice's face soured. "I don't like Snow, and you better make sure Lheec's daughter is in a room on the other side of the castle." Her voice snapped with the tiniest hint of her old note of command. The mirth in her eyes dispelled the effect, but I knew that her mood was lifted once more, though I felt that mine was no better for the stolen kiss. I was simply reminded of what was lost. Still, I had no intention of letting Malice know that. If she was happy, then I could feign happiness as well.

  "I assure you the girl will be in the furthest comfortable room the castle has, but it's unkind of you not to like Snow. She is very fond of you." I knew exactly why Malice disliked Snow. She was jealous. She knew nothing of the nights I'd spent with the new weapon instructor of the Knights of Ethan, but she didn't need to in order to see that Snow was the only person, other than Malice herself, with whom I shared a friendship. Of course, I was not lying about Snow either. Snow really did like Malice, and had always looked up to her as a master of her craft. I knew that Snow felt my continued affection for Malice was strange, but she still treated Malice well, and even went out of her way to try and help the girl recapture those skills that had made her a great swordsman.

  One night, after Snow and I had spent the evening in close physical intimacy, she had told me how she had once had a crush on Malice. All the while she was training with the sword, under the different masters, she had been told of how wonderful Malice was with the blade. She had never had the chance to train directly under Malice, but she had always wanted to. She noted that it wasn't common for her to have such feelings for women, but that Malice had been, to her, the ultimate symbol of strength and beauty. Snow, in her own way, loved and respected Malice. She, however, wasn't confident that the green-eyed beauty would ever recover the piece of herself lost. I could not allow myself to accept that.

  Malice sighed in exasperation. "I just think we spend too much time with her. She should have something better to do. Other people need training as well."

  "This is true, but I am the king, and you are to be my queen some day, so certainly our training should come first. . ." I trailed off, playing Malice's game. It was easier than arguing with her. I rarely won.

  At the mention of becoming my queen, Malice's face lit up, the sour expression burning away in an instant.

  "You're probably right. I should learn how to fight, so I can save you from Lord Lheec's daughter!" She blurted out.

  I couldn't help but chuckle. I'd never needed to be saved from small, defenseless girls before, but I could hardly rain on Laouna's enthusiasm.

  "Shall we go then?" I asked, gesturing at the door back into the main study.

  "Probably. Snow is mean when we're late." She said, face serious once more. Indeed, Snow could be a tyrant if we did not show up on time. She was a good instructor, but like Malice before her, she was strict. Being the king didn't seem to have much of a blunting effect on that.

  Together we walked back out into the main study. Bell had straightened her clothing, and looked far more presentable. She was no longer sobbing and she met my eyes, if only hesitantly, as Malice and I walked back into the larger public office. She curtsied as I drew near.

  Malice dropped the shoulder strap of part of her dress so that the fabric hung precariously from one of her large breasts, and clung to me possessively, sticking out her tongue at the frail young girl.

  "Laouna!" I snapped, the word spoken in a low angry tone. Immediately Malice straightened back up and pulled the strap back into place. She looked at me with half-apologetic smile.

  Bell looked startled and confused, obviously not sure of what to make of Malice's behavior, and probably having never encountered the childhood expression involving sticking one's tongue out at another. Even startled, she looked more composed than she had before I entered the private study. The fear in her posture had significantly lessened.

  "I will send the servant along in a moment, Lady Bellena. I trust you will inform your Lord that I cannot accept his offer, gracious though it was." I spoke calmly and coldly. It was a tone I'd learned from time spent with the Knights of Ethan. They were all masters of intimidation, and I found the techniques useful as a king. Malice, before her time of dreaming, had been a master of the art.

  "Yes, My King. . ." She paused for a moment, and I could see her wavering on the verge of saying something. Finally, she did. "Thank you . . . my father will be angry, b
ut . . ."

  I turned my back and walked away. I was happy to have her thanks, but if I was to keep my illusion of aloof monstrosity, I couldn't allow myself to slip. I walked from the room and into the hallway where the black cloaks waited. I would send a servant to gather Bell before taking Malice to the morning's training session.

  Snow's practice wand moved in a dizzying array of patterns before my eyes. I kept my guard high and waited for the moment of attack that I knew was coming. The patterns she used were different from those I'd been taught, but I found that the skills I'd learned still applied in dealing with my opponent. Snow had learned under many different sword masters during her training, and was considered a prodigy of the blade. She blended three distinct fighting styles with liquid grace. Even so, facing her was like facing a shadow of the fighter Malice had once been. I knew for certain that she was a better swordsman than I was, but by the same token I knew that Malice was better yet. At least Malice had been better, when she was still Malice.

  The attack came. Snow exploded forward, her wooden sword darting and slicing with serpentine grace. I knew that I would be at a loss to press the attack, so I fell back, turning the onslaught of strikes aside with all the skill I could muster. Snow was pressing harder than she usually did, no doubt angry that Malice and I had been late to her class. I could see it in the fire that burned behind her eyes.

  The sound of wood on wood rang out with every success, each time a clear snap signaling that I had joined the pattern properly. It seemed, for a moment, that things were going well, but my ears heard my mistake before my body had time to register. The rhythmic snap of wood meeting wood sounded dully once, and then twice, and I knew that I was about to be hit. I realized far too late that I had extended my balance too far to my right, and because of my missing arm, had no counter balance on my left side. My sword point fell and Snow's blade struck twice, fast, hitting me soundly across the face, and stabbing painfully into my chest. I fell backwards and landed hard.

  I felt Malice at my side in a moment, her hand on my shoulder. Snow stalked in, her practice weapon at her side.

  "You're getting better, but you're still fighting like you've got two arms. You can't rely on your left arm to balance you, since it's not there anymore. Your style is strong, your power is phenomenal, and your speed never fails, but any opponent you face who is worth his weight in dirt will fight to take advantage of your missing arm, and if they can survive long enough, you will give them an opening every time." Snow reprimanded. It was the same lecture I'd gotten many times.

  "You don't have to be so mean about it!" Malice snapped, ever the one to come to my defense, especially if it was against Snow. "He's trying his hardest."

  "In fact, I do have to be mean. He'll not learn any other way. If I don't hit him, someone else will, and they might do it with sharp steel. You don't want that. I don't want that, and I think Lowin really doesn't want that." Snow retorted.

  "Well, you're still mean." Malice whispered aggrieved, though much of the fight had left her voice.

  "Yes, and now it's your turn." Snow pointed her practice weapon at Malice to emphasize the point. The green-eyed former Knight looked down at me, concern on her face. I nodded that I was fine, and handed her my wooden weapon. She took it in her hand, firmed her resolve, and moved away from me and into a ready position across from Snow.

  Snow looked much the same age as Malice, like a girl in her late teens with short cropped black hair, none of it long enough to fall in front of her line of sight. She was dressed in a Lucidil Cloak, a fabric whose color shifted and blended, albeit imperfectly, with the surroundings of the user, constantly changing appearance to make opponents uncertain about the exact motions concealed within.

  Snow was unique among the Knights of Ethan, even when their numbers were larger, for she had the arms and legs of a white-furred Fell Beast, a very rare breed. Those features had won her the name "Snow." Outside of the practice field she was an easy person to like. She was courageous and strong, quick to laugh, and quicker to try and make others laugh. On the battlefield, though I'd never fought at her side, I'd heard that she was always at the front, and never placed another in a position she would not willing fight in herself.

  On the training field, however, she was a devil, and a sharp tongued menace. She allowed no dissension, and exploited every flaw showed to her. Her teaching style left many a student with bruises and broken bones, but few of those who trained under her ever made the same mistake twice. It was easy to remember a mistake when it still hurt for a week after you'd made it.

  Their eyes met across the distance between them, Malice's green, and Snow's eyes - once pure and deep black - flashed with a hint of vibrant pink. It was not something that a casual observer might notice, but one who spent as much time close to her as I had, was bound to take note. The gradual change in her eyes, and her closeness to me, was something that frightened me to think about. Malice's eyes had once been black as well, before we'd lain together once, many years before. They had shone green ever since.

  The king, the ruler before Lucidil, had once tried to discover what it was about me that had the power to reawaken the nearly dead eyes of the Knights of Ethan. They had sent Snow to me as part of that experiment, and she had come away from the encounter unchanged. Now, years later, after many further intimate nights, I could see the change in her eyes, subtle though it was. What exactly that meant, I could not fathom, and did not wish to dwell upon. I was beginning to suspect I was creating some form of magical bond between others through sheer physical intimacy, and that was a difficult concept to wrap my mind around.

  Malice attacked first. As per the rules of training, none of us used our ability to slow down our perception of time and move with super human speed, but even without that aid, the green-eyed girl was fast. Snow was fast as well, and she fell back, bringing her defenses to bear with only a hair's width of space to spare. Snow would not be so easily over matched however, and she turned Malice's surprise attack around in a rush. Malice's attack while fast, and well aimed, had also been sloppily carried out. Her sword technique was amateurish, and Snow took quick advantage of that, striking through the gaps left open in Malice's form.

  To her credit, the red haired and green-eyed girl avoided many of Snow's initial attacks, weaving through the pattern of battle like she was made of smoke. However, in the end, technique won out over acrobatics. Snow's wooden blade sounded dully off Malice's ribcage, and the red haired girl fell back in pain. Snow had not taken so much as a single grazing.

  Malice's practice wand bounded across the frozen winter grass and landed several feet from her, dropped with the shock of the hard impact on her chest. I went to her side, and offered her a hand up. She knocked it away and stood on her own, an emotional storm cloud hovering over her.

  "I should be better than this. . ." She muttered under her breath, her eyes seeming distant for a moment.

  "Your techniques are sloppy, and your attacks lack conviction. If you want to hit me, you have to really want to hit me. You can't hesitate. I want you to practice your forms for the next two hours. If you're movements are as sloppy tomorrow, I will hit you far harder next time." Snow issued her judgment coldly, and with detached severity. On the training field, she was a different person.

  I half-expected for Malice to argue with the white-furred weapon master, but to my surprise, she did not. She nodded her understanding, dusted herself off, and walked away to recover her practice weapon, without meeting the eyes of either Snow or myself. I looked at Snow. She looked angry.

  "What's wrong?" I asked, not sure what it was that was bothering her. She had won the encounter.

  "She's still there." Snow said. I did my best not to look confused. "I can tell that Malice is still there. The way she moves . . . the way her attacks roll from one to the next, taking the form of necessity and not pattern. It's like she is just below the surface. I can't see it when I talk to her, or with the way she clings to you, but when we face e
ach other sword-to-sword, it's like she is just beyond the range of voice. I feel like I could almost reach her if. . ." Her words trailed off.

  I considered Snow for a time before speaking again.

  "So, there is hope for her yet, then?" I asked.

  Snow shrugged. "Hope can never be taken away, only lost." Snow swung around to me, her face once more neutral. "Grab a practice sword. We're not through yet."

  I tried not to sigh heavily as I went to retrieve another weapon. I supposed that I was lucky that I healed quickly. Snow rarely broke my bones, a task which was pretty difficult to accomplish, but she quite frequently hit hard enough to leave some terrible bruises. Of course, bruises healed so fast on my flesh that I could watch them fade before my eyes. In fact, unless I intentionally tried to look at them, I rarely saw them anymore. If I hadn't come so close to death, on so many occasions, I might have thought myself immortal. Of course, my missing left arm served as another constant reminder. Immortals didn't lose limbs so easily, I thought.

  I withdrew a weapon from the bin of practice blades, choosing one far larger than the size of a standard sword. The weapon was heavy compared to a Knight's weapon, but it felt right in my hand. I walked back to Snow, getting a feel for the wood wand. Snow looked at me with narrowed eyes.

  "You'll never learn any finesse when fighting with a weapon like that." She said.

  "Finesse has never really worked for me. However, I'm stronger and faster than most of my opponents, so maybe it's time to use that to my advantage." I replied.

  "So you're going to substitute brawn for style?" Snow did not look impressed.

  "Yes." I answered coolly.

  "Then I shall have to show you why that is a bad choice." She brought her weapon up. The practice wand she used was crafted to mimic the two handed weapons of the Knights of Ethan. The wooden blade I had selected was a weapon of the front line, a massive sword used less for fighting, and more for skewering charging war sows, or breaking apart an enemy's front line as they tried to plow over the top of you. The blade alone was about four feet in length, and three quarters the width of man's hand across. I gripped the handle and held the weapon out before me. It was light in my massively powerful grip.