Winter Lost

I was pretty sure the harp was an artifact of some sort, a magical item. It could be something of great power or mostly sentimental. But I didn’t think the frost giant was a sentimental creature, and the last great artifact we’d encountered hadn’t been a picnic for anyone. I rubbed my temples, wishing I didn’t have to listen to the magic in the storm.

“Vulnerable,” Zee had said.

We found the road to the resort about a mile back down the road. The storm had pulled down the sign and flipped it backward—which is why we missed the road the first time. Well, that and the snow that had gathered about two feet deep over the roadway so it looked no different than the terrain around it.

I stopped before I turned off the main road, rolling down the window. Adam trotted over to me.

“Hrímnir said magic is weird at the resort. Maybe you should take on human shape before we get there.”

Adam considered this, then shook his head.

I felt something pass through our bond. But though sometimes we could talk through that path, it was intermittent. Just like my part-time immunity to magic. But I caught a bit of his confidence. He thought that wouldn’t be a problem, but if he had to get stuck in one form among possible enemies, he’d rather be the wolf.

Fair enough.

The SUV roared as I scaled the steep road through the trees behind the wolf. I’d learned to drive in this kind of country, and it still took every nerve I had to keep going. I couldn’t see the road in front of me most of the time—not because of the storm or the darkness but because of the way the road humped up and down, leaving my headlights illuminating the sky or the trees. And if I slowed down at all, I’d be in a world of trouble. Only my speed allowed the SUV to keep climbing instead of sliding down the mountain backward.

It was probably less than a quarter of a mile before we breached the top, but it felt like a thousand years. When the chassis was level, I stopped to catch my breath. There had to be another way into the resort.

In front of me, all I could see was snow flying sideways, illuminated by my headlights. I couldn’t see trees or any sign of which way the road went. Before I could worry too much, Adam appeared, trotting toward me.

I rolled down my window. “When we go home, you are driving back down that excuse for a road.”

He gave me a look.

“Okay,” I admitted. “That was really fun.” I held up my hands to show him how much they were shaking. “But you still get to drive on the way home.”

He gave me a laughing look and turned to lead the way forward. There were no trees or cliffs to indicate where the road might be. The road was flat, and the ground to either side seemed to be flat, too. We traveled slower because even Adam was having trouble finding the road.

I knew what flat, treeless ground in the mountains meant. Chances were that under the snow on either side of the road was swamp or lake. Probably we wouldn’t sink through—it was really cold, and frozen water was as good as asphalt for driving on. But considering we were heading for a place with hot springs, I’d just as soon not risk it.

The sound of the roadway changed as we crossed a bridge. My eyes didn’t see it, but I could feel the flow of water beneath me. It tasted like magic. My foot came off the gas pedal, but I didn’t notice until the SUV slowed to a stop as the power beneath the vehicle dragged at me. Called me.

A sharp sound by my left ear interrupted the water’s song. I turned to see Adam’s face right on the other side of the window. The sound had been his claws scoring the side of the door.

I blinked at him, then put my foot down on the accelerator. When the SUV pulled forward, a sharp pain slid through my chest, a pain that stopped as soon as we were off the bridge. The frost giant had been right that there was a Power here. The grip of the water, whatever the cause, had felt impersonal—like an avalanche. It was simply a barrier, designed to catch creatures like me.

I concentrated on Adam after that. We’d entered some kind of fog bank; between that and the driving snow, the first inkling I had that we’d reached our goal was when I realized that the lump of snow on my right was in the shape of a truck. Beyond it, now that I was looking for it, was a huge building, almost lost in the storm and the fog.

Following the wolf, I piloted the SUV into a space between two snowed-in cars and parked, steaming water about five feet in front of my bumper. I opened the door and slid to the ground. Adam leapt inside the open door to begin his change.

Through the snow beneath my feet, I felt it, a queer sort of warmth that was magic and not magic. Something nearly sentient, a guardian.

“Refuge,” I said out loud. Then chose a different word. “Sanctuary.”

Power swept through my chest as if in agreement or warning before sliding away and taking with it the taste of warmth, leaving behind a cold night and the smell of sulfur from the hot springs.

I went to the back of the SUV to open the rear hatch and grab our gear—and stopped.