A Ransom of Snowflakes

The Palace of Light
Chapter One

The brother and sister, normally as quiet as spring lambs, bubbled with joyous laughter in the pristine palace gardens. It was the first of winter, the solstice, Yule, and already the snows had come in droves, covering everything in thick piles of cool white fluff. The girl’s hair and eyes were pale as ice, his as dark as night. They tossed hard packed balls across the lawn, aiming for an overworked guard. A fat one from the boy’s hand assaulted the soldier’s neck, and with a scathing glare for the boy child, he dashed into the palace to remove his soft wool shirt and expel the icy coolness.

Another of the palace’s elite guard walked passed with a sardonic grin. “Drew the short stick again, eh, Atimo?” He laughed as he marched on down the long white marble hall, leaving Atimo to sort himself out.

With his shirt back on and a cloth tied around his neck, he stepped back out into the frostbitten wind, where the twins had taken to building a snow dragon.

Their mother, a frail woman, born in the hot lands to the south watched from a frosty window on the south side of the court. She was a good woman, a patient mother, and a beloved queen, but every year when the snows came she refused to leave the castle, claiming sands and surf were more pleasurable than cold and snows. She pressed her hand to the window and laughed. For once the girl child had gotten the best of her brother with a snowball to the face. She covered her mouth with her hands, trying not to laugh while her brother shot her a heated glare that would have frightened any normal child. The girl laughed and rushed for Atimo. He sighed as they played a quick game of chase and hide around his legs, halting only when their tutor showed her bird like face to call them in for lessons.

“Aww!” the boy howled, sulking as he followed his sister toward the palace. “It’s not fair we have lessons on Yule. The kids down in the city haven’t had class for days.”

“Aye,” the tutor acknowledged, holding the door a moment longer for Atimo. “And they’ll be workin’ alongside their parents preparin’ for the cold months and tonight’s celebration, while the two of you will only be gettin’ into trouble if we do not keep your hands busy at all hours.”

“What will the other children be doing?” the girl asked, always inquisitive.

“Some will be helpin’ in the slaughter, storin’ meats for the cold months. Some will be boardin’ up windows and little used doors to help keep out the chill wind. Others will be cuttin’, splittin’, and stackin’ wood to keep the home fires burnin’. The lucky ones will be helpin’ to cook a feast for tonight’s celebration. There are many other things the children do. Maybe we should be havin’ Atimo take you through the city so you can see just how hard the children work.”

Atimo rolled his eyes. Last time he’d taken the children to the city, he’d nearly lost both of them and his life over one of the boy’s foolish games. He knew though, that Sesima was just trying to scare the children. She’d been pushing for months to give them chores around the palace. She thought them soft and ignorant, incapable of doing anything on their own or making decisions. Hard work would do the trick, she claimed.

Atimo couldn’t help but agree with the tutor. The children did nothing but play most of their days. When he was their age, he’d spent the majority of his time hauling coal to the farrier, hard back wrenching work with little pay. Polishing a floor or two wouldn’t hurt the twins.

However, their mother fought against anything menial in the children’s lives, while their father stood on the sidelines watching the whole affair with little interest.

Following them along the hall, Atimo wondered if things would ever change, if these children would ever be allowed to build muscle. They all shuffled into a small classroom, Atimo taking up his place beside the only door at the back of the room, eyeing the two brown-headed boys in the far corner, leaning over a desk whispering. They stopped when Sesima turned her hawk-like gaze on them. She was a tall woman with a thin neck. Her eyes were small, beady, and demanding. Her long pointed nose hung over her tiny thin lips, looking for the entire world like a beak. She always kept her hair twisted into a small knot at the back of her head. Atimo eyed it, wondering if she knew it looked like a golden bird’s nest.

Sesima raised on rainbow colored hand, dyed from long days helping her husband dye fabrics in the city. Silence fell over the room and Sesima took up her seat behind her desk.

The two boys in the far corner turned their attention toward Sesima, but the twins stared at each other, plotting something. Atimo cleared his throat, causing the boy child to turn, eyebrow raised, lips pressed thin. Unmoved by the boy’s dark look, Atimo took a step forward, settling the boy’s behavior.

Braffan and Gage, the boys in the corner snickered. One day, when the twins were grown, the boys would take over Atimo’s post as guardian to the young prince and princess. Today, though they were nearly as strong with a sword, and knew how to wield more weapons than Atimo thought one man had a right to, they cast him smiles of respect and turned back to their tutor. It had been argued that teaching the boys to read and write was a waste of precious time, but Atimo himself had argued on Sesima’s side, declaring that he would be better at his job if only he were allowed to attend school as a child.

As the day wore on the children grew more and more withdrawn, the drone of Sesima’s voice as she lectured spinning a spell of sleep over them. This was Atimo’s favorite part of the day. He hadn’t had the luxury of learning when he was a child. The daily lesson’s had taught him to read, write, and control his own finances. He’d also learned history, science, and a different language. Sesima grinned when she looked up to find him repeating her words, silently, but still moving his lips.

Her long pointer whacked against a desk, destroying the sleepy environment.Braffan, you will stay awake during my lessons. she commanded in the cold brutal tone of the Duath Gual.

Braffan gazed at her, his eyes blinking away the sleep. I am sorry, mistress. I’ve not had much sleep recently.

Atimo sighed. He and Sesima knew very well that the boys got very little sleep. They were up long before dawn, sparing on the practice field, and then working through chores in the stable before attending class with Sesima. Once they were finished here they would be back on the field until well after dark, stopping only for a quick dinner, before they headed off to bed.

“We’ll discuss it after class,” Sesima told the boy, lifting a book from her desk, searching for the page she needed.

The twins giggled, drawing Sesima’s rage to the back of the room. “You find if funny that Braffan is worked to weariness while you snuggle tight and warm in your blankets every night. I’ll bet Braffan and Gage would trade places with you any day.”

The girl’s eyes shot to Gage, her cheeks flushing red. “We were not laughing at them,” she whispered.

“You will keep yourselves under control while in my care,” Sesima hissed at the children.

If anyone in the castle knew how strained the boy’s lives were, oddly, it was the girl child, who spent much of her time in the halls above the practice field watching them spar. She knew that one day they would be the only thing that stood between her and an untimely death. Atimo shifted his weight, watching the way Sesima glared at the twins. If only the tutor knew that children had snickered about the smudge of ink on her cheek. It seemed in recent weeks the twins were verbally assaulted by her more and more, her frustrations with them growing.

“You may go,” she said, slamming the book down on her desk. “Scorcha has requested your early presence in your room today.”

The twins eyed each other, excitement flaring in both of their eyes. Atimo followed them hurriedly out of the classroom, but not before the girl could give Gage one last red-cheeked smile. He returned it with a wink that made Atimo roll his eyes. He would have to have a talk with the boy about what was proper in the young princess’ company.

Scorcha sat on a long red velvet couch in the children’s room. A table sat in the center lined with food, and a smaller table with one plate against the wall. The children descended upon the larger table while Atimo sat against the wall and picked at his plate. “Atimo,” the boy laughed. “They’ve brought that disgusting meat pie you love so much. Come, eat with us.”

Atimo studied the boy for a moment, deciding whether it was wise to trust the child. “Come,” the girl said, a small smile flitting over her face. “You too, Scorcha. We cannot eat all of this.”

Both men looked at the other. Scorcha was an ancient man with a long snow-white beard and even longer hair, draped about his body. His magnificent green eyes turned back to the children as he pushed himself from the couch. “Shall we have a lesson while we eat?” he asked.

The children were always eager to learn what the old man had to teach them and as a result, agreed readily. Scorcha was a wizard and taught the children to control the magic that thrived in their bodies. Today, Atimo knew, he would tell them tales and teach them the about Yule and its traditions. No spells were taught but Atimo and the children listened with interest regardless.

When Scorcha finished, the children were once again free to roam the palace grounds. Atimo chose to follow the girl, who quickly made her way to the practice fields to watch Braffan and Gage. Another guard was called to attend the boy, who Atimo knew would be up to no good.

The girl stood against the rail of the second floor hall, looking out over the practice field. The hall was open to the elements and as a result, her cheeks and nose became bright red as she watched. Her hair like a banner, fluttered behind her in the wind, wrapping its way around her slight form.

“Atimo,” she said, still looking out over the field. “Would you teach me to use a sword?”

He was taken back by her question. Why would she want to learn? As small as she was he doubted he could find a sword she would be able to lift. “I don’t think your mother would like that, Issy.”

“I don’t care,” she whispered.

“Does it have to be a sword?” he questioned, winning a delighted smile from the girl.

“No, I don’t guess so.”

“You would be much more suited to a smaller weapon.”

“Really,” she grinned.

“You have good aim,” Atimo laughed. “I saw that shot to Garric’s head today. Maybe you should consider thrown daggers, or a bow.”

She grinned and looked back over the field. “And you would teach me?”

Atimo didn’t answer, electing to wait for the guards he could hear approaching to pass. Isabell didn’t push him to answer. She understood, even if her brother didn’t, that some things should be kept private. The guards rounded the corner at the end of the hall and with a start Atimo realized they were not guards, but Duath Gual. His heart sinking in his chest, he snatched the girl away from the stone wall, knocking a scream from her lungs. Gage looked up, his eyes narrowing on the approaching Duath Gual. He let out a cry, turning the attention of the entire practice field to the second story hall. Atimo gathered Issy in his arms and took off down the hall, trying to get her behind the palace guard.

What were they doing here, he questioned himself. How had they gotten in the palace, unnoticed by any guards? How had they gotten to the back side of the palace? There were no entrances in the back. Issy struggled in his arms, trying to free herself from his grasp. “Calm down!” he shouted, sliding to a stop at the end of the hall, trying to decide which direction was best. He glanced to the south. Duath Gual were coming at him. To the north the invaders marched, and to the west, behind him, they were quickly catching up. There was no hall to the east here. He was trapped. He shoved Issy in the closest room, a broom closet and wrenched his sword free of its scabbard. To his shock and dismay, Gage came over the wall in the corner and stood at his side.

“Where is Issy?”

“I’ve hidden her,” Atimo whispered, shoving Gage into the closet with the girl.

Atimo threw a few daggers, knocking a few of the Duath Gual from the ranks that approached him. The Duath Gual threw wooden hammers back, picking up their pace. One of the small hammers clipped his arm making him shake with anger. Within seconds the invaders descended up on Atimo like a hive of angry bees. They slashed at him, intent on taking him down. He defended wildly, barely knowing which direction he should strike, attacks were coming from all sides. He let go and just swung his sword, connecting with a head here, an arm there, taking down as many of the men as he could. The ground at his feet became bloody, slippery and body littered. He took a moment to find stable ground, stepping on the backs of the fallen Duath Gual. One of the hammers hit him in the brow and brought with it a silent, peaceful darkness.