In Stone's Clasp (26 page)

They looked at each other, rose, and approached. Kevla thought she had never seen them look so dejected.

“We went over the lyrics,” Mylikki said, rubbing at her tired eyes.

“And over, and
over,
” said Altan.

“We even went through the various regional modifications Altan had learned in his travels,” Mylikki said. “Nothing. The closest clue we found is in the first song, in which the young rider says, ‘They tell me she dwells here.’ But of course the song never tells you where ‘here’
is.
”

“Although apparently the Ice Maiden is real,” said Altan, “I think she doesn’t really dwell anywhere, at least in the songs. She…she lives where there is cruelty and meanness.”

“Not through the forest and up the hill,” sighed Jareth. “I understand your meaning.”

“What’s the first song called again?” Kevla asked. Perhaps she and Jareth could discover something the two performers hadn’t.

“Logically enough, just ‘The Ice Maiden,’” Altan replied.

“All right. The second?”

“‘Circle of Ice,’ and the last, ‘Circle Completed.’ The idea is, it’s like a circle. Someone gets hurt, she hurts someone else, and that person hurts a third person because he’s been hurt, and we’re back to the beginning.”

“A circle of heartbreak,” said Kevla. “A circle of ice. What a sad thing.”

Hanru had been listening. “What did you say, Kevla?”

“We were discussing a song cycle about the Ice Maiden,” Kevla said. “It’s called ‘Circle of Ice.’ We were hoping to find clues to—”

A memory raced back to Kevla. She recalled awakening the morning after the storm she and Mylikki had weathered together, looking out to where the Dragon had indicated the men of the woods were lurking. She had seen such a circle, a ring of ice glittering atop the snow.

Hope surged within her. “I think I’ve seen one,” she said. “A circle of ice. A real one.”

Hanru said, “We have seen many of them. They began appearing on the ground about nine, ten moons ago. The
selva
won’t—wouldn’t—go near them, and neither will we. There is…something bad there. Something evil.”

“Has anyone ever stepped inside the circles?” Jareth asked.

Hanru shook his head. “Not that I know of. I have not even seen them disturbed by animal tracks.”

The four companions who had undergone so much on their journey together looked at one another.

“This has to mean something,” Jareth said. “There’s got to be a connection. They started manifesting at the same time as her snow began to fall.”

“We won’t know anything until we can see them ourselves,” said Kevla.

“When do we go?” asked Altan.

“You and Mylikki are not going anywhere,” said Jareth. “Kevla and I and our Companions will handle this.”

Altan shook his head. “We’ve come this far, we’re not going to sit and—”

“I think,” said the Tiger, her rumbling voice carrying, “that these things would be best decided in the morning. You all need to rest and recover from today, even the Dancers.”

“But we might be able to stop her!” cried Jareth, whirling on his new friend. “Don’t you understand what that means? People are dying, Tiger. This land can’t take much more of this. If we don’t act now, even if spring does come, it will come too late to do any good!”

The Tiger sat up. She had been lying stretched out on the snow, apparently oblivious to the cold, and had resembled a cat beside a fire. Now, Kevla was reminded of how large she really was, and, if she was anything like the Dragon, profoundly powerful in ways Jareth was only beginning to grasp.

“You can’t stop her if you are weak and exhausted,” the Tiger said in a voice that brooked no disagreement. “I cannot think that she will be an easy foe to defeat. You will need all your strength and wits about you, Stone Dancer, and at the moment, you appear to be lacking in both.”

Jareth’s eyes narrowed at the barb. Gently, Kevla said, “We may be stronger than ordinary humans, Jareth, but even we have our limits. The Tiger speaks wisdom. It will serve nothing to find the Ice Maiden and be too weary to fight her.”

His nostrils flared and for a moment she feared he would lash out at her. But then he took a deep breath.

“Very well. In the morning, then. Hanru, you said you can take us to one of these circles?”

“Indeed I can,” the
taaskal
said, “though I will do so with great reluctance.”

Jareth nodded, but Kevla could tell he burned to see the mysterious circles. He would have to wait, but not for much longer.

She rose, stretched, and went to the Dragon to curl up beside him. She stayed awake only long enough to notice through heavy-lidded eyes that Altan and Mylikki lay down close to the fire, wrapped in one another’s arms, and that Jareth stretched out next to the mighty blue Tiger. The Tiger butted her head against Jareth’s, then curled in around the Dancer.

Things seem right,
she thought driftingly as sleep claimed her.
Things are finally starting to seem right.

Kevla awoke and went to the cooking fire more lighthearted than she could remember being in a long time. The Lorekeepers had been returned to the land. Altan no longer made cutting remarks and was finally making his affection for Mylikki clear, and the girl was blossoming under the new attention like a flower under the sun. Jareth had accepted his destiny and found his Companion, if not his own Lorekeeper yet, and they now understood why his powers were blocked and who had plunged this land into a devastating winter. And today, they would investigate this clue they had discovered last night.

“I’ve been thinking,” Kevla said as she sipped hot tea. “One thing that stands clear in my mind is that in the last song, the Maiden speaks directly to the audience. She seems to want us to know that she was once human. And the last line—it’s almost as if she’s trying to ask forgiveness.”

“‘Remember what drove me to be what I am, all that I wanted was love from one man,’” quoted Mylikki, looking upon Altan with adoration in her eyes.

“It doesn’t excuse what she did,” said Jareth.

“Of course not,” Kevla says. “But it’s interesting that she seems to want us to understand why she did it.”

“That’s supposing that the songs really offer any clues at all,” Jareth said.

Altan glared at him. “It’s the only information we have.”

“No it’s not. We have this,” and Jareth gestured at the white expanse of snow. “The Tiger told me she controls the snow. We know that the madmen are real. And there have been strange circles of ice appearing at the same time that winter refused to leave. I’d rather stick to what I know to be true than look for hints in songs
huskaas
made up centuries ago.”

“There’s nothing that says we can’t do both,” Kevla countered.

“Kevla’s right,” said Mylikki around a mouthful of cheese. “We should look at everything we have.”

“We don’t know how to fight her,” Jareth said. “We don’t even know if we can. How do you fight a Maiden of Ice?”

“If it’s literal—if she really is ice, then I can destroy her,” Kevla said. Her powers were very good at destruction. “If she is human, then she can be killed. One thing is certain—she can block your powers. Let’s hope she can’t block mine.”

Jareth drew his knife and examined the blade in the weak morning light. “She might be able to block my ability to speak with the earth,” he said, regarding the weapon. “But I will still be able to plunge this into her heart if I have to.”

Altan and Mylikki exchanged uneasy glances. Kevla had noticed that, aside from the madmen of the woods, Lamal was a very peaceful culture. All the weapons she had seen had been designed for hunting animals, not people. The horror with which the Lamali regarded the
bayinba
told her that it was rare, almost unprecedented. To see Jareth speak so calmly of murdering someone, even an enemy, disturbed her.

“We had best go see these circles of ice,” said Kevla. “Perhaps we can glean more information from them.”

Jareth nodded and sheathed his knife. “Let’s go.”

Mylikki and Altan rose as well. When Jareth scowled at them, they looked at one another and smiled a little. Then Altan said, “We talked to the Tiger and the Dragon earlier this morning, before you awoke. They said we could come.”

Jareth transferred the glare to his new Companion. The Tiger flicked a blue ear.

“They promised to behave and do exactly as you said,” the Dragon said. “We thought it a reasonable request. Besides, they have the knowledge of the songs, even the seldom-sung verses. They may see something that might be of help.”

Jareth threw his hands up in the air. “It appears I will never shake you, Altan.”

Altan’s grin lit up his face. The adoration he felt for his friend was obvious even as he held Mylikki’s hand. “And I hope you never do.”

According to Hanru, the circle was not far by foot. By Dragon and Tiger, it was mere moments’ distant. Kevla could see it from the air—a ring of ice, jutting up from the snow. It looked exactly the same as the one she had seen before.

“No matter how much snow falls,” Hanru said, “the ice always pushes through it somehow, so that it is never covered.”

“Well, nothing unnatural about
that,
” Altan said.

Gently, the Dragon came to earth. Even as he touched the ground, the Tiger, with Jareth on her back, arrived and Jareth leaped off lightly.

Slowly, they walked toward the circle. It seemed harmless enough, though strange. A perfect circle, it enclosed an area about three feet in circumference. While there were animal tracks nearby, as Hanru had said, the snow inside the glittering ring was undisturbed by so much as a bird print or fallen leaf. They walked around it for a while, examining it in silence.

Finally Mylikki spoke. “So here’s a circle of ice,” Mylikki said. “A magical circle of ice. What now?”

“A circle encloses a space,” Kevla said aloud, working through the puzzle. “For what purpose?”

“To keep it safe, or sacred,” Jareth offered. “To prevent anything from entering.”

Kevla nodded. “That’s one reason. Hanru, you said there are many such circles?”

The
taaskal
nodded. “We have traveled hundreds of leagues in our journeys, following the
selva.
And we have seen dozens of circles like this. All of them feel the same—bad.”

Jareth frowned. “Why so many? What would the Ice Maiden need so many for?”

Kevla continued to regard the circle. It was so small. Only about the size of a fire ring—

And then it came to her. “I can transport myself from one fire to another by stepping inside it.” She looked at Jareth. “Stepping inside the fire’s ring.”

“A portal,” said Jareth, excitement rising in his voice. Before they could stop him, he had found a stone in the snow and tossed it into the ring.

It landed with a soft sound and disappeared into the drifts of snow. They craned their necks and saw that it was still there.

“So much for that,” Jareth said.

“It’s for people,” said Altan, suddenly. “The madmen of the woods—maybe that’s how she catches them. They step into a circle by accident, stumbling around in a storm, and end up wherever she wants them.”

Kevla felt suddenly cold—an unusual sensation for her. There had been a circle of ice that one morning, when the Dragon had told her men were hiding in the woods. She knew Altan was right. She rubbed her arms, knowing the chill came from the dark thoughts, not the freezing weather.

“Kevla?”

She tore her gaze away from the circle of gleaming ice to meet Jareth’s blue gaze.

“I think Altan’s right. I think this is how the men come to and from the Maiden. I think it’s a portal, just like fire is for you.” Jareth held out his hand. “There’s really only one way to find out.”

She stared at him. Everything in her protested. They still knew so little. They had no plan to fight her, they didn’t even know if they
could
fight her. But if not them, who? Who in Lamal had greater abilities than the Stone Dancer and the Flame Dancer? Unprepared as they were, they had to act now. The land and the people in it were dying.

Kevla rose and took Jareth’s hand, twining her fingers about his.

“We’re going to step into the circle,” Jareth told the others. “It’s too small for the Dragon or the Tiger. Mylikki, Altan—promise that you will stay here with the Companions. Whatever happens, we need to know that you two will be safe. Do you understand?”

Mylikki said quickly, “Yes, Jareth. We can’t do anything more to help you and we might get in your way.”

Altan sighed and nodded. “She’s right. But be careful, and remember the song lyrics!”

Kevla was glad. She was fond of the pair and they were wiser than she had thought—they had been helpful earlier, but now, she suspected they would be a hindrance.

She looked back at the Dragon and forced a smile, then turned back to Jareth. His blue eyes seemed to bore into hers and she knew that he, too, was utterly ignorant of what lay before them. But his hand was warm and strong.

She nodded. They each took a deep breath, then stepped into the circle.

The cold sliced Kevla to the bone and the snow almost blinded her.

She dropped Jareth’s hand so she could wrap her arms around her shivering body clad only in the thin red
rhia.
What—how was this possible? She felt Jareth grasp her by the waist and turn her around. She blinked to clear her vision and then gasped.

Directly in front of them was a forest, but it was unlike any forest she had ever seen. The trees were dark, dead, and shiny with ice. They were completely encased in the frozen water, and their limbs all had sharpened, deadly points. They grew tightly together, their dead boughs entwining, to present a barrier that seemed impassable. Everything was coated with a dull red tinge. She looked up at the sky, and saw that it was a dark crimson.

Towering in front of them, past the encircling, icy forest, was something both beautiful and terrifying. Barely visible through the swirling snow, it was a great House—the word “castle” from the song Mylikki had performed sprang to mind. But it was not made of stone, or wood. This castle appeared to be made entirely of ice. It glittered and gleamed, even though the snow was falling thickly.

“‘They tell me she dwells here,’” Jareth quoted. He looked over at Kevla. “You’re shaking—I thought you never got cold?”

“Th-this isn’t ordinary c-cold,” Kevla said through chattering teeth. “I don’t think we’re s-still in our world.” Kevla took a deep breath and settled herself, reaching for the fire that was always banked inside her. With an effort, she found it, and gradually stopped shivering.

“You think we’re someplace else?”

“She’s some kind of magical being,” Kevla said. “And that’s the first time in ages since I’ve been cold, Jareth, and it was hard for me to find my powers and make it go away. And look at the color of the sky. So yes, I do think we’re in someplace different. Someplace magical.”

They heard the singing sound of arrows at the same moment and turned to meet the threat.

Dozens of men raced toward them, shouting something Kevla couldn’t quite make out. Several others who had taken positions let loose a rain of arrows. Without even thinking Kevla extended a hand. The arrows suddenly burst into flame. Nothing but ash and stone arrowheads now, they fell harmlessly to the snow.

“Your cloak!” Kevla cried. “It turns arrows!”

“That’s a folktale!” Jareth yelled back, but she noticed he heeded her advice. She heard the sound of the arrows striking the magical
selva
-fur cloak and falling harmlessly. She concentrated. Small fireballs hurtled from her outstretched hands and attacked the oncoming men. They fell, screaming in pain, and as always when she was forced to harm others in her own defense, Kevla felt a stab of regret.

More were coming. Kevla’s fear turned to grief and horror when she recognized one of them as Olar, Mylikki’s younger brother. These, then, were the servants of the Ice Maiden. Crazily, the lyrics of the third song floated into Kevla’s mind:
Instead of one lover, I’ve legions of slaves; my name’s on their lips as they go to their graves.

And now she could make out what the madmen were shouting as they kept coming: “For the Maiden! For the Maiden!”

The Ice Maiden was still blocking Jareth’s powers, and Kevla noticed that it was more difficult than usual for her to summon her own. Jareth had no weapon other than his dagger, and while the folktales were true about the cloaks stopping arrows, she doubted the white cloak would block a spear thrust. There was only one escape route—forward, into the black, jagged forest.

“Follow me!” Kevla cried. She turned and placed her hands on the first ice-slicked tree in front of her, called the Fire that blazed deep within her, and willed the ice to melt.

She felt herself grow warm. Heat radiated off of her with the heat of a fire, and then with the powerful heat of the molten stone that had been the Dragon’s natural habitat. At first, the ice resisted her. Then, reluctantly, it melted and she was able to move forward. The branches of the trees were still sharp, and she needed to step carefully, but she could get through and she thought there was even room enough for Jareth.

She felt Jareth right behind her, ducking his big frame and cursing under his breath.

“Keep close to me,” she warned.

“Don’t worry. I’m so close my clothes are smoking.”

“I don’t know how long the branches will stay thawed.” Kevla heard a movement behind them, a strange, crackling sound.

“Apparently, not very long.”

Kevla didn’t dare look herself; she needed every ounce of her strength and focus to keep moving forward.

Step by agonizing step, they made their way through the forest. Kevla was panting with the effort and she could smell the acrid odor of Jareth’s burning clothes.

She wondered if she would have any strength left at all by the time they actually encountered the Maiden herself.

Mylikki was happy to be sitting and doing nothing.

The journey yesterday had exhausted her. But she was glad of it, even glad for her too-close brush with death. It was because of that harrowing moment that Altan sat beside her now, his arm around her, and while she feared for her friends, her apprehension could not erase her joy.

He had come to Arrun Woods with his crystalline songs, star-bright voice and beautiful face framed with curling golden hair, and she had fallen for him almost from the moment she saw him. There were times when she thought her feelings returned, others when she thought it spurned, and there seemed to be no logic in what prompted Altan to treat her the way he did. When she had summoned her courage and kissed him, she had expected him to thrust her away at once.

But he had kissed her back, had seemed to want more from her than a kiss—and then, abruptly, he had stopped, looked at her with contempt, and stabbed her with cruel words. And Mylikki was again baffled and hurt.