The Iron Hands of Winter

The Iron Hands of Winter
By: Jed Jacobi

         James Decker woke up freezing cold. His quilt, which wrapped him up like a cocoon, gave him little warmth. And although it was a beautiful gift from his grandmother, it was little use in keeping out the coldhearted chill of winter.
         James lived in a small cottage just outside of Berkshire, the only town within two-hundred miles. Small, yes, but the villagers who lived there were extremely nice people. James had once helped an old woman carry her groceries home, and she had given him a hundred dollar bill. Berkshire was full of generous and kind hearted people.
         James turned over and looked at the clock; it was ten past five in the morning. Might as well get up now, he thought. He usually got up every morning at six, but there was no use trying to fall asleep, the cold wouldn’t allow it.          He got out of bed and decided to cook breakfast a little early. He threw a few slices of bacon on the frying pan and nearly sent the pan soaring while he tried to cook and get dressed at the same time.
         The wind was howling and out the kitchen window James could faintly see snowflakes in the morning light. Another storm, he said to himself. After breakfast James went outside to grab some firewood. When he opened the front door he nearly tripped over a pile of snow on his doorstep. He went inside and got his old snow shovel and started shoveling the snow aside when he hit something solid. He knelt down and shoved the rest of the snow aside and just about fainted at what he had uncovered. Beneath almost 3 feet of snow was an old bearded man covered in what looked like a large heavy rug. James frantically dug out the snow around the old man’s body, then, with a lot of effort, pulled the man inside.
         The old man’s skin was so pale it looked as if his whole body was covered in a thin sheet of ice. James rushed over to the fireplace and started a large fire hoping the old man was still alive. James hurried back over to the bearded fellow and began peeling the frozen cloak of his stiff body. Ice and snow fell all over the floor as he finally peeled it free. He laid the old man down by the fire and threw several blankets over him.
         “Come on old man, breathe…” James whispered.
         James then tried removing the man’s gloves, which was no easy task. When he had finally taken them both off, James saw the old man’s hands were severely frostbitten. He then proceeded removing the man’s shoes and socks, and then sat there, hoping he would move.
         Within about twenty minutes of lying next to the fire, the old man started moving his fingers. James was half asleep and had barely even noticed it. He crawled over next to the man and started rubbing his shoulders and arms, hoping it would warm him up a bit more. Color was slowly beginning to appear in the man’s hardened face. He had great big bushy eyebrows that were the color of the moon, and his enormous beard was a purer white than even the snow.
         In what seemed like a miracle, the man quickly sat up and looked James square in the eye. James jumped back at the old man’s sudden movement then stunningly looked back into the man’s dark blue eyes. Could it really be…he thought, No, he had died years ago…It was impossible…
         “Hello James.”
         The old man spoke with a hint of a whisper, yet perfectly clear.
         “Bren?” James shockingly asked.
         “What’s the matter?” The old man asked, “Surprised to see your old mentor still alive?”
         “But…I…I heard you were dead,” James replied.
         “And thus the rumors began.” Bren added.
         “But…How…?” James asked.
         “Simple,” Bren replied, “The stories weren’t true…and here I sit, in front of your fireplace, and thirsty as hell I might add.”
         “Oh, sorry” James jumped up and filled a glass of water for his old friend.
         James handed the glass to Bren and sat back down.
                “So how did you find me?” He asked.
                “No matter, that can wait,” Bren replied, “James…I need your help…We need your help.”
                “Bren, no…whatever it is you ask of me, my answer is no.” James replied.
                Bren went on, “James, I thank you for finding me when you did, or else you might have had an old man for a welcome mat instead of this tattered ol’ rug,” Bren lifted up an old dirty piece of carpet which was dripping wet, “But James, I would not have risked coming here if it were not of great importance.”
                James looked down at the puddle of water that was forming on the wooden floor, “Bren, I’m honored you would come this far to see me, but I’m sure you can find others to help you,” James said, “Ten years I’ve been away from it and I don’t plan on getting into it again.”
                  Bren sat on the floor silent for a moment, and then spoke slowly, “James, you were by far the best student I’ve ever had and ten years ago you were the best anyone had ever seen. You were there, you heard the people.”
                  “Yes I heard them alright,” James continued, “And like I said earlier, I’m truly honored, but this time you’ll have to go it alone Bren, I’m sorry.”
                  “James…” Bren spoke softly, “He’s got Anna…”
                  James quickly tore his eyes from the floor and looked at his old friend, “Bren, if this is some sort of…”
         “He’s taken her to Aydenza. She’s been gone for three months now.” Bren added as he slowly stood up, “James…You can’t keep hiding from the truth any longer. You were born with a gift, just as your parents were. Stop fighting it, and accept it. Come with me to Aydenza.”
                James stood up and met eye to eye with Bren, then turned and walked to the kitchen.
                “You know, everyone’s been asking about you,” Bren said, “They seem to think you’re dead as well.”
                “Mmm.” was all James managed to say.
                  Still in the kitchen, James reached above the cabinets and pulled down what looked like a large tree branch. It was pure white and was half twisted at one end. He then opened the oven, at which point Bren suddenly spoke, “Surely you don’t keep it in…” but before he could finish James retrieved a small dark wooden box from inside the oven. He set it on the table and carefully opened it. Inside was a large twig, about a foot long, and this too was pure white. One end of the twig was rather skinny, while the other end was thick and had an eagle carved in it.
                  James held it in his right hand, while his staff was in his left, “It’s been ten years since I’ve held a wand, and ten years since I’ve carried this. I don’t see how much help I’ll be Bren.”
                  Bren, who was smiling ear to ear simply said, “Now James, would you like me to take a photo or shall we go rescue Anna?”
                  James replied with a grin, “How about both? You’re not likely to see this again Bren, that’s a promise.”