The Weaver's Source

Chapter 37

It was cold. So very cold. I couldn't see anything at first, only darkness, but suddenly sight came to me and a grey sky was above. I was sprawled out in snow, so deep that I was nearly buried in it. I pushed myself heavily onto my knees, only now seeing the wind. It whirled about, tugging at my hair and cloak, blowing thick snowflakes and dust into the air. While I could now see, I couldn't see far; the world was heavy with fog. No tree, no plant, no building, no person was close by. Nothing was here. Just vast plain of white.

I stood with difficulty. My balance was shaken by the savageness of the wind and clumps of snow clung to my clothes and hair but I didn't shake it free. Something told me to move. I stepped forward, pushing my feet through the compact snow, and wandered through the blizzard aimlessly.

I didn't know where I was going, I didn't even know why I was here, but I knew I was seeking something. With every step, a horrible panic gradually bubbled in the pit of my stomach; despair and horror. I pushed onwards and blinked hard when I saw something looming before me. The snow and mist cleared a little, showing me the crumbling remains of a great fort. Frayed red banners flapped in the wind and the blood stained walls howled. I didn't think about what kind of dangers dwelled within, I shuffled through the snow and entered the fort.

My eyes constantly darted everywhere, seeking. My panic strengthened at sight of the fresh blood that was spattered in the snow or smeared across the walls but I pushed on until I stood in the middle of the huge courtyard, looking up at the towers and walls, at the stairs and doors, searching. Then suddenly something dropped from above.

I stood stock still, staring at the thing that had fallen from the roof above. I heard quiet triumphant laughter and then nothing. Nothing but the wind and my heavy breathing. I slowly turned and stared at the body. Blood circled it in the snow and a large sword lay not too far. I knew that sword. Ursus.

Panic swelled. Disbelief. Hysteria. Grief. With tears breaking loose, I ran to the corpse but tripped and fell. Ignoring the bloodied snow that stuck to me, I crawled forward, hauling my body closer, until I reached him. I got onto my knees and observed the large man who lay sprawled on his front with tearful eyes. I couldn't see his face but I knew this man. Every inch of me knew him.

With panic almost chocking me, I grasped his shoulder and pulled hard, rolling him over, and letting his dead eyes stare up at me as I screamed out his name.

I woke with a start. For a moment I was confused. I wasn't cold. I was in a dark room with the sound of rumbling thunder surrounding me, not the howling icy wind. With my heart hammering and tears dripping from my eyes, I slowly realised that the frozen fort had been nothing but a dream.

I lay there for a while, waiting for dawn to come and for my terror to fade. It took some time but by then the dream was nothing more than a faint memory of blood and snow, but Grigore, dead, rang clear in my mind. It had worsened. Before, the dream had been vague, flashes of a memory and leaving only the imprint of Grigore's danger. But this, this had felt real. Grigore had been dead in that fort of blood and snow. I swallowed thickly as I recalled yesterday, how he threatened to leave me here if I didn't release him from my magic. I couldn't let that happen. I had to stay with him to make sure that dream didn't come true.

As some light filtered in through the window and the elf's quiet laughter came like birdsong, I quietly rose and bathed. As soon as I was dressed, I walked around the house aimlessly, the elf following me without me seeing it, only hearing. I wasn't sure what I was looking for until I couldn't find it. Grigore was nowhere to be found. Panic blossomed until I realised it was likely he'd just gone to hunt. I wondered if he was using his hunting as an excuse to vent his anger or to put some distance between us, to give himself some peace from my magic. I was scared about addressing it, having to explain how exactly I had been thinking of him for years, how he made me feel, but, when I found my food prepared neatly in the kitchen, I knew then I had to address it with him. I needed to teach him about my magic and soothe away his fear of it.