Frostfire Read online

  Title Page

  Part 1

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Part 2

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Part 3

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Part 4

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Part 5

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Part 6

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Epilogue: After the Mountain

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  THE MOUNTAIN HAD murder in mind.

  That was the only explanation for the howling wind, the savage pinpricks of hail, and the shifting snow underfoot. Sabira held a gloved hand in front of her face and pushed on up the sheer steps cut into the rock, her leg muscles screaming. It felt like they’d been climbing forever.

  The steps had no handrail, and the drop churned her stomach. Rather than risk staring into it, Sabira kept her focus on Uncle Mihnir’s broad back. Farther ahead, Frost-Cleric Tserah walked through the gale as if the harsh climb was no more than a stroll through the lowlands in summer.

  She couldn’t be afraid. Not here, not now. She’d been chosen because Tserah thought she was smart and strong; only one in every hundred who came of age were judged worthy of a visit to the glacier. She should be proud.

  So why did it feel more like a curse than a blessing?

  Abruptly, Tserah crested the steps and waited for the others to catch up. She was impressive, standing straight against the wind. Shades of scarlet cleric’s robes showed through gaps in her furs—and near her neckline, Sabira glimpsed a soft blue glow. Her frostsliver. Soon she would have one of her own, Sabira thought, touching the empty necklace hanging at her throat. She wouldn’t fail.

  As Sabira and her uncle reached the top, Mihnir pointed toward the mountain peak and shouted over the wind: “Storm’s coming in—a real one, not like this drizzle!” Heavy furs accentuated his already-large, rounded frame; he looked more like a cave bear than a person.

  Looking over her shoulder, Sabira wished she could see Adranna’s icy walls glinting in the sunshine, but the huge rocky overhang that shielded her home city from weather also hid it from her now. Sabira’s gaze strayed to the other side of the ridge, to where the glacier flowed down the mountainside, a great tongue of ice. It wound away into the distance, toward the place where she knew it tipped off the mountain, its magic melting and diluting into water.

  It was certainly no normal glacier: They hardly moved if you spent a day watching. But the Tears of Aderast flowed at a clear walking pace and had a slight sapphire glow, like the cleric’s frostsliver. The light of magic, the flame with no heat. Frostfire. Lines of scarlet prayer flags fluttered and danced in the gale nearby, straining on their moorings and threatening to rip away. Sabira’s heart fluttered with them.

  “Maybe we should turn back!” Mihnir called.

  Sabira glanced at her uncle. She couldn’t bear the thought of descending the bonding path to the city, only to climb it again once the storm had passed. “I’ll be quick!” she shouted. Both of them looked to the frost-cleric for a decision.

  To Sabira’s relief, Tserah nodded.

  This was the final leg of Sabira’s journey, and by tradition it had to be traveled alone. She gulped and watched the slow-moving glacier for a few moments, as though it had frozen her in place.

  Tserah laid a white-furred glove on Sabira’s shoulder and squeezed in encouragement, just before Mihnir pulled her into a suffocating hug. She pressed her nose into his furs and blinked to stop her eyes from stinging. She couldn’t tighten her arms around the whole of his large frame, but she really tried.

  “Don’t worry about … ,” he said, and then started again. “You’ll be fine, just keep your head on what you’re doing.”

  He smiled at her as he pulled away. Mihnir should know. As a packman, he had brought more potential bonders here than anyone. Sabira nodded but couldn’t speak. Her nerves were too high, and even in the penetrating cold, she could feel the heat of her quick heartbeat. Then, just as she had been about to put a foot forward, a different voice broke in—not Tserah’s calm, hard tone or Uncle Mihnir’s jolly one. It was a strange voice, like the ringing of a crystal glass gently touched.

  I HOPE MY KIN ARE HAPPY WITH YOU.

  Sabira jumped at the sound, for there was no one but the three of them there. Except, of course, there was another as well, hanging around Tserah’s neck. Her fraction of the mountain god. Her frostsliver. This was the first time it had spoken to Sabira—they rarely talked to anyone they were not bonded with.

  “Thank you, I think,” said Sabira, looking at Tserah, for the cleric’s senses were shared with her bonded frostsliver. Tserah smiled and touched her hand to the blue glow in her clothes.

  They all seemed to have such confidence in her. It scared Sabira. Her life had been full of uncertainty, and it was hard to believe that now would be different. She turned to face the last stretch of the path, the glacier clouded by fog. For a moment, she stood still, gathering her courage.

  This was it. This was where she followed in the footsteps of every Aderasti that had come before … and the footsteps of her brother, Kyran. She blinked away a tear. She didn’t feel ready at all.

  Sabira took her first step.

  ONE YEAR EARLIER

  “HOW MUCH LONGER?” Sabira asked. She and her parents stood on top of the ice wall surrounding the city, waiting. She walked to the edge of the wall and peered briefly down into the valley. She spun on her heels, turning toward the mountain and the shrine for the hundredth time, half expecting her brother to emerge at last. But the path remained empty. She took a few steps and turned again to the valley.

  “He’s going to be fine, either way,” her father said soothingly. “You don’t have to pace like that while you’re waiting. What are you going to be like when I go off in a few weeks’ time? It’ll be for months, you know.”

  Sabira’s father was a respected healer and had been invited on an important diplomatic trip to Ignata. Sabira shook her head. “This is different. This is Kyran’s whole future at stake,” she said, walking faster than ever.

  “It would be easier if they told us the schedule,” said Taranna, her mother. She was anxious too, but instead of pacing, she fiddled with the two red ribbons on her upper arm—representing her two children. Her father had identical ribbons tied around his arm. “Your father’s right, Sabira. Stop pacing. You’re making me even more nervous.”

  Sabira stopped and sighed. They waited along with a few other family groups near the frost-cleric temple where Sabira had her lessons, its great glass greenhouse and domed observatory glinting in the sunlight. It was Choosing Day, and along with the other children of Adranna who had reached the age of fourteen, Sabira’s brother was undergoing tests to determine if he was worthy of bonding with a frostsliver.

  Only one in a hundred was destined to succeed, but Sabira thought they’d choose Kyran. He was strong and clever and everything a big brother should be. He’d climb up to the glacier above on Aderast’s highest slopes and cut a piece of it for himself, a piece of a god to grant him the powers he’d always dreamt about. She just wished she knew it
for sure.

  “So … how much longer can it be?” Sabira asked, jittering in place as she stared at her scuffed snow boots on the painted ice.

  “Look!” her mother said, pointing up to the shrine.

  A figure had emerged from the low, peak-roofed building: Kyran. He strode down toward their parents, and Sabira felt her heart thumping as she tried to read his expression for an answer. Suddenly, to Sabira’s eyes, he looked very grown-up—even though he was only one year older than her. He hesitated in front of his family.

  “Well?” said Sabira’s father.

  “Yeah,” he eventually said, almost in a whisper. “They picked me. I’m going to have a frostsliver!” A smile broke across his face.

  Her mother and father cried out, scooping Sabira and Kyran into a tight embrace. Sabira clung to her brother. All sorts of feelings ran through her in a shiver. Joy for the magic that had come into Kyran’s life, the magic he’d longed for since he was a small boy. Pride for the older brother she loved. A little bit of jealousy that he was the one who’d been chosen, not her. Worry for him making the dangerous climb up the bonding path.

  “That’s amazing, son,” said their father, pulling away, his eyes shining.

  “Well done, Kyran. Well done,” their mother added, squeezing Kyran’s shoulder as she released him.

  But Sabira didn’t let go. She could feel her eyes stinging.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” Kyran asked, concerned, prying her away gently.

  “You’re really going … up there to the glacier?” Sabira asked haltingly. “Some people don’t come back.”

  “I’ll come back!” Kyran replied, full of confidence. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

  * * *

  Sabira’s parents walked ahead, leaving her and Kyran wandering down toward the city as the sun started to sink. For a while, they were quiet, each lost in their own thoughts.

  “I guess in all the excitement it feels like your birthday has been forgotten,” he said quietly.

  Sabira blinked. She’d even forgotten herself: She was thirteen today. “It doesn’t matter. Your Choosing is more important,” she said sincerely.

  “Of course it matters. You’re thirteen now—that means you’ve only got one more year left until your own Choosing. Have you thought about it yet, about what you want?”

  Sabira shrugged. She had thought about her own Choosing—of course she had. But it had always felt so distant, like a daydream. Now her stomach clenched in nervousness. What if she wasn’t good enough for a frostsliver? What if she was?

  “Anyway, as you’ve only got one year of official childhood left, I thought I’d give you something special.” He reached into his pocket and drew something out. “Happy birthday, Sabira.” He handed her a small wooden figurine, hand-carved and smooth. Sabira took the creature. To her surprise, it had little posable legs, so you could make the figurine stand or sit. It had a long, lithe body and a fierce face.

  “Is it an ash-cat?” she asked, grinning. Her brother nodded.

  “I made it myself,” he said a little shyly. “I know how curious you are about Ignata.”

  “I love it!” she said, hugging him for the second time that afternoon. “Thank you!”

  He squeezed her back.

  When she pulled away, she cradled the ash-cat carefully in her hand as they carried on walking home. “Everything’s changing, isn’t it? You’ll have your frostsliver. Father’s going to leave on the Ignatian delegation in a few weeks … soon it will just be me and Mother.” Sabira felt a sharp tug in her heart at the thought. She loved her mother, of course, but it would be weird with the family cut in half.

  “It’ll be all right. Think of everything I’ll be able to achieve once I’m bonded!” Kyran’s eyes grew suddenly dreamy. “Everyone with a frostsliver does something important. One day, maybe I can go on trips like Father. I bet you could come too, Sabira—we could see the world, from Ignata to the plains nations! Won’t you like that? You’re always talking about traveling. Maybe you’ll have a frostsliver by then too.” He grinned at her. “You’ll see, everything will turn out for the best.”

  Sabira smiled. She hoped he was right. Her brother had all the courage in the world, but she wasn’t sure if that was enough. Something was niggling at the back of her mind, some darkness or foreboding. Maybe she was worrying over nothing. Yes, that was it. He’d head up the path in a week’s time and be home a day or two later, a frostsliver around his neck and magical frostfire running through his fingers, just like he’d always wanted.

  SABIRA AND KYRAN trudged down the slope, watching their mother’s back, her bow and quiver of arrows slung across her shoulders. The three of them had set out on a hunting trip to a small forest near the base of the mountain, hoping for a catch to help celebrate Kyran’s last meal before he set out for the glacier.

  “We’ll be there soon.”

  Her mother’s words startled Sabira from her thoughts. It was her third hunting trip, and this one had to go better than the first two. Sabira had startled everything away the first time, and the second hadn’t been much better. Her mother suffered it all with no more than a sigh, though Kyran was less patient. Sabira refused to ruin everything again.

  “I’m ready. This time I’ll get it right,” she said, following her mother as she picked a path over the rocks.

  Kyran snorted, but their mother stopped and turned, expression solemn.

  “You’re only thirteen, Sabira. This isn’t something you should expect to learn quickly. I bungled my first few hunting trips. Most people do,” she said. She shot a stern look at Kyran, adding, “Even you. And you should be taking things more seriously now. You’ll have a frostsliver soon—you’re going to have to learn some responsibility.”

  Sabira and Kyran exchanged grimaces behind their mother’s back as she led the way toward the forest.

  They were long past the end of Adranna’s stone stairway, and almost beyond the rocky scree of the foothills. Grassy shoots poked through the frosty earth, clawing free of their icy prison. Sabira smiled. Only a hint of green ever touched Adranna, but down here sparse bushes and evergreen trees dotted the landscape. It was warm too, despite the breeze. Sabira pulled her heavy furs away from her neck. Perhaps when they reached the forest her mother would let her hide some of her clothes so she didn’t cook.

  Suddenly, as they started to round a corner, Sabira noticed smoke billowing over the next hillock.

  “What’s this?” her mother murmured, quickening her pace. Sabira hurried after her, struggling to keep up with Taranna’s longer stride. After a minute or two, they rounded the hillock and Sabira’s heart plunged.

  “It can’t be … ,” Kyran breathed next to her.

  The forest was on fire.

  Sabira couldn’t take it in. Heat washed over her in waves, intense even a few hundred paces from the tree line. Her eyes were wide and stinging. Smoke and ash flew everywhere, sweeping across the ground and filling the sky.

  Her mother had stopped, her face pale with horror. “I need to know what happened,” she said. “We’re going to go a little closer—stay next to me and do what I say, when I say it. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

  Though Sabira had to force herself to follow, they paced onward, muffling their mouths to protect themselves. The fire burned hot, and occasionally a gust of wind blew smoke straight into their faces. Sabira coughed and blinked, keeping low to the ground, Kyran close at her side. Soon, her mother held up a hand to stop, and they just stared, eyes stinging with tears.

  Flames licked up tree trunks and along branches, shriveling and withering the dying wood. The smell of burning flesh was sharp in the air: living things snuffed out by unforgiving fire.

  Sabira hated it. She wanted to help, but what could she do? Run for water? Beat out some of the flames? She started forward blindly but stopped as her mother laid a hand on her shoulder and said, “There’s nothing we can do. We’ll have to wait until it burns out on its own.”
>
  They watched, helpless. The dangerous dancing flames were mesmerizing.

  “What could do this?” Kyran asked. “Lightning?”

  “Not what—who,” her mother replied. “Get down!” she hissed suddenly. Sabira and Kyran ducked, squinting into the trees in confusion. Eventually, she spotted dark shapes emerging from the gray haze ahead.

  People were born from the smoke—twenty or more. Sabira had never seen people like them. Their clothes were furless, unsuited to the mountain weather, and they stank of tar. The people didn’t appear to have seen them yet, though that wouldn’t last. Each one wore the same black leather uniform. Shiny metal symbols decorated some shoulders in silver or gold, and all had hoods tightly cinched for protection from the smoke. She couldn’t see their faces, but from their size and clothing, Sabira guessed they were all men.

  The men moved away from the smoke toward where they were hiding, Sabira’s heart beating to their pace. Had they really started this fire? They must have been careless. Let a campfire get out of control.

  They were holding muskets. She glanced at Kyran, knowing they were realizing the same thing.

  They’re Ignatians.

  The men started pushing back their hoods. Their skin was a shade different, and they didn’t have rosy Aderasti cheeks either. They had harsh, angular features, and their eyes were hidden under black crystal goggles. Maybe it was to save their vision from the smoke, but it made them look monstrous, empty of emotion.

  “By the lash, that’s better. Smells like home now,” said one of them.

  That’s when Sabira knew: They had done this on purpose. She felt cold with anger.

  The speaker was short and bulky, and had silver symbols pinned to his shoulders. His lower lip had a deep slice out of one side, as if he had been cut long ago with a hot knife, the edges of the wound healed jagged and red. He had a strange accent, but though Sabira almost didn’t want to, she did understand him.

  She could feel the danger here—they had to leave. Her mother was already slinking backward, signaling Sabira and Kyran to do the same—but as Sabira followed, a twig cracked under her heel. The squat, silver-shouldered man shouted, “Colonel Yupin! Look!”