Silver Rose

Ice Storm

Zander gently brushed Majestic’s shiny coat. The stable shook as the wind slammed against its walls. Majestic snorted and uneasily moved back and forth.

“Steady boy,” Zander quietly told him. “This has been quite a day hasn’t it?”

Majestic snorted in answer. Zander patted his neck and continued brushing his golden flank. Zander had never been happier than to see Majestic that morning. He was supposed to be executed that dawn, but according to Hector, there had been a mix up and someone else went in his place. He hadn't been ready to go anyway.

The walls trembled. The lanterns hanging from the ceiling swung back and forth. It was as if there were giants stomping about outside. The horses danced about uneasily. Chink! Chink! Chink! Icy rain pelted the roof.

“Mighty early for an ice storm,” Hector said.

“Hmmm…” Herbert said slowly, “it is about November.” He began to move his piece in the game they were playing.

“Guess you’re right. But we don’t usually get ice storms until January. This is the time for a snowstorm.”

“Hmmm, you’re turn.”

“This has been the strangest day yet.” Hector frowned at the board for a moment then looked up again. “First, the palace shakes. Then the entire city shakes. Then the wind blows everything about. And now an ice storm!”

“Makes you wonder what’s next.”

Zander watched a blond groomsman walk over to the two soldiers. Three groomsmen were in the stable. Normally, by then, there’d only be one. He knew there were at least three men who lived in a cabin only a little ways from the stable. The others lived in the city. He guessed they stayed in part to watch over the horses, in part to keep from going out into the storm. He knew Hector and Herbert didn’t want to go out into it. The blond groomsman stood next to Hector.

“What do you want?” Hector growled.

The groomsman cleared his throat.

“We’ve finished our dinner and noticed that you finished yours—“

“And?!” Hector asked.

“And, we, that is to say… Mr. Pole, Ben, and I were wondering if we should feed the prisoner.”

Herbert scowled.

“No!” Hector said.

“But he’s had nothing to eat all day,” the groomsman said. “And we saved some portions—“

Hector stood.

“You would give food to a horse thief?!” Hector yelled.

“Horse thief!” Mr. Pole, the head groomsman, shouted, standing. “Horse thief! That’s all I hear you say all day! But I’ve watched the young man all the time he’s been here. I don’t believe he’s a thief at all! I believe he’s a perfect gentleman!”

Herbert jumped up and pulled out his sword.

“I don’t care what you believe old man,” he growled. “God knows what he did. And so do we!”

The head groomsman swallowed loudly at the sight of the short sword.
“You bring God in to it do ya?” He boldly continued. “Thief or no, do ya think God wants him to starve?”

“What are you getting at old man?” Hector asked.

“There’s enough suffering in this world that we can’t control. Why shouldn’t we relieve what suffering we can?”

“You don’t make any sense,” Herbert said. “This man’s a criminal! He’s condemned by the king! He needs to suffer. He doesn’t deserve a crumb!”

Mr. Pole moved closer to the soldiers.
“How do you know what he deserves? You don’t even know what you deserve. You call him a criminal for stealing an animal that we got back, but I’ve seen you sniffing around Ben’s daughter, my granddaughter, and other girls. I know what you’re up to. You would steal from them what they can never regain! Who’s the thief now?!”

Herbert’s sword flew to Mr. Pole’s neck. The other groomsmen’s faces turned a sickly ash. Sweat slid down Mr. Pole’s face. Zander could feel his own skin go cold.

“I could slit your neck right now,” Herbert said next to his ear, “and do you know who would care? No one. You filthy, stinking cod!”

Hector chuckled.

“Thought you were big and mighty, didn’t ya? ‘God don’t want him suffer.’ Well, if God didn’t want him to suffer, why’d he allow him to be here? Why is God allowing me to…” Herbert pushed the blade against Mr. Pole’s neck. “…draw blood from your neck. He can stop it. Why don’t he stop it?”

“Maybe he don’t care,” Hector said. “Or maybe he knows justice when he sees it.”

“Please, don’t—“ the blond groomsman said.

“Shut up! You’ll be next,” Hector shouted.

“Yeah, Hector,” Herbert said, “why don’t we kill them all. We’ll just toss them into the ice, they’ll be frozen solid by morning. None will be the wiser.”

“We’ll just say they tried to attack us to steal our money,” Hector laughed. “We had to.”

“Yes,” Herbert grinned. “And I’ve had my eye on your granddaughter for some time now, old Pole. It gets mighty hard to sway those girls with you hovering around all the time. But with you and your meddling son outta the way…”

“You do what ya have to do,” Mr. Pole managed to say. “But when the eye of God turns, and ya suffer your punishment… remember this day.”

“Punishment?” Hector laughed. “Who’s going to punish us? Herbert, I think it’s time we reminded these fools who runs this place.”

Zander had to do something. He couldn’t let innocent men die before his eyes with him just standing there. He looked around him. There was nothing but hay, the horse, and the brush in his hand. If he struck hard enough, the brush could do some real damage. He tightened his grip around his weapon. He shifted his position. Clank. Clank. Those blasted chains were going to… The chain! They had shackled his wrists with a chain that touched the floor when his arms were down. He let the brush fall into the hay and slowly pulled the chain into his hands. Herbert pressed the blade into Mr. Pole’s neck. Blood trickled down his neck onto his shirt. Zander couldn’t go after Herbert, he might accidentally cut Mr. Pole’s throat. So he’d have to get Hector. Maybe he could make a bargain. He used to be a king; he knew how to negotiate. Zander sucked in a deep breath and leaped out of the stall.

He ran straight to Hector and swung the chain. Hector howled as the metal hit his shoulder. He bent down, grabbing his wounded shoulder. Zander took the opportunity to swing the chain over his head from the back. Then he held it around Hector’s neck.

“Let him go!” Zander yelled at Herbert. He pulled on the chain with both hands until he heard Hector gurgle.

“You free Hector and I’ll free the old man,” Herbert said.

“No, you first,” Zander said, yanking on the chain harder. He couldn’t actually let Hector go. If he did they’d kill him and the other men. And if he killed him, Herbert might go ahead and kill Mr. Pole.

The look in Herbert’s eye made Zander very uncomfortable.
“Or I could kill the old man, and you let Hector go in exchange for the other men’s life.” He said. “If you kill Hector, I will kill everyone else, including you, in his honor.”

He was serious. Zander looked at the other two groomsmen. Their stricken faces told him they didn’t know what they wanted to happen. He loosened his grip a little. Either they’d all die tonight, or only one man would.

“Take me instead of Mr. Pole,” Zander said.

Herbert raised his eyebrows.
“I think we’ll take you both.”

Whoosh! Zander turned his head. The door had opened. He could barely see a figure standing in the small opening with the snow swirling about behind them. He didn’t have time to think about it. In that moment, Hector’s elbow came crashing into his side. He must have loosened his grip when the door opened. Hector’s elbow banged into him again. This time Zander let go of the chain. Hector turned around with the chain still around his body. He punched Zander in the stomach until Zander fell to his knees. Hector pulled the chain over his head. He then knocked Zander to the ground with his fist. The room swam before his eyes. Herbert still stood with the sword at Mr. Pole’s neck. Blood trickled down Mr. Pole’s shirt. Hector wheezed above him. The other groomsmen didn’t know where to look.

“Get in here and shut the door, or this man dies!” Herbert shouted at the newcomer.

The cloaked person quickly did as told.

“Come over here!” Herbert shouted.

The person wore a dirty, worn, green cloak held tightly around the neck so that the face wasn’t visible. A skirt peeked out below the cloak. The person took a few hesitant steps toward them. Hector kicked Zander in the face. Zander cried out in pain.

“Zander!” he heard his name shouted.

He opened his tear-filled eyes. There was the stranger next to him.

“Don’t cry,” the figure said, wiping his face with her fingers. “It’ll be all right, Zander. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Please don’t cry.”

The voice was so familiar. Was it his sister? Not Elsa, it wasn’t forceful enough. But not Tierlynn either. It was soft, warm, and full of love. He felt his eyes water again. This time, not because of the pain, but because they were the sweetest words he’d heard in his life.

“Hahahaha,” gruff laughter came from above their heads. “’ Oh, don’t cry. No one’s going to hurt you.’”

Zander heart froze when he heard a short scream from the cloaked woman. He wiped his blurry eyes. The woman was now above him, struggling in Hector’s arms.

“You can’t protect anyone, sweetheart,” Hector said. “Especially not yourself.”

The woman stopped struggling. Hector’s hands moved over her body.

“Looks like we’ll have another wench before your granddaughter, old Pole,” Herbert said.

“No!” The woman screamed.

She grabbed Hector’s hand and put it to her face. Hector hollered. Zander guessed she must have bit him because he let her go to nurse his hand. She grabbed Zander and pulled on him. He let her help him up.

“You’re going to die!” Hector shouted.

“No, I’m not!” The woman yelled, pulling out a small dagger. “I’ve cheated death once today and I’ll do it again!”

Hector and Herbert laughed. The woman looked up at Zander. Her hood fell away from her face. Zander drew in a quick breath.

“Snow?!” He said, surprised.

“I’m sorry, Zander,” she said, “but I’m afraid you’re going to be very angry with me.”

“Why would I? You just saved my life! I’m any and everything but angry.”

She sadly smiled at him.

“Aw, ain’t that sweet,” Hector said. “The horse thief and his girl together one last time. At least he’s got good taste. She’s a pretty little wench. I’m sure she’ll be very nice.”

“You won’t lay one hand on her!” Zander shouted, protectively gripping her shoulder.

“Let me, Zander,” Snow said. She pointed the dagger at Hector. “You will never touch me.” Then she pointed it at Herbert. “And you will let Mr. Pole go.”

Mr. Pole seemed to be beaming. Zander had never seen any one with a blade to their neck look so happy. He was actually smiling! Yet this was still very serious. All Snow had was a dagger. He knew Herbert and Hector were well aware of that.

“Put the dagger down before you hurt yourself, sweetie,” Herbert said.

“You’ve insulted me enough!” Snow said, angrily. “Whether you let Mr. Pole go or not, you will die!”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to make any threats,” Hector said, drawing his sword.

Snow threw her cloak back.
“The king’s daughter doesn’t make threats. I only give promises.”

Hector, Herbert, and Zander stared at her, dumbfounded. The dress was wet and muddy. Yet on her belt was a gold buckle with a winged feathered beast with a sword in its talons engraved in it. Even Zander recognized it as the seal of Brovanian royalty. The two free groomsmen kneeled.

“Put down your swords!” Snow ordered.

Herbert and Hector didn’t move.

“I said lay them down!” She shouted. “That’s an order!”

Hector’s sword fell with a clang. Herbert looked like he might not. Snow glared at him coldly. He pulled his sword away from Mr. Pole’s neck. A moment later, it, too, clattered on the ground.

“You, two,” she pointed at the groomsmen, “pick up the swords. Make sure they don’t have any other weapons on them. Then tie them up.”

Mr. Pole’s legs wobbled. Zander ran over to him. He put his arms around the old groomsman and led him over to a pile of hay. He carefully laid the bleeding man down. He didn’t want to think.

“Are there any clean rags?” Zander asked loudly.

“Here.”

A white lace trimmed handkerchief dangled in his face. Zander’s fingers instantly smudged it with filth when he touched it. He pressed it down on Mr. Pole’s throat.

“Is he going to…” she began. “Will he live?”

Zander lifted the bloody handkerchief to look at the wound.

“I think so,” he said. “It wasn’t as deep as the blood made it look.”

He didn’t want to look at her. Still, he felt her nod and turn. With her movement came the sudden scent of fresh earth.

“You,” she said to the blond groomsman. “Go fetch the royal physician.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” the groomsman said, bowing. He grabbed a cloak off a hook and ran out of the stable.

Your Highness. So it was true. Snow was the princess of Brovan. All that time at the inn, all that plotting against the royal family, and he had one of them under his fingertips. He tired to force all the thoughts and feelings away. He’d done it when he left Chasilin. Now, he needed to focus on Mr. Pole and… and possibly a way to escape while he could.

“Why are you in chains?” She asked suddenly.

“Your men put me in them,” he answered, not looking up.

“My men?”

“You govern everyone under you, don’t you? That makes them yours, doesn’t it?”

She didn’t answer. He had been so stupid! He should have known. After all, hadn’t she been the only one who DIDN’T want the government overthrown?! Of course! Was he that blind? Well, he wouldn’t be anymore. Now he saw everything.


“So, what have you done with everyone else?” He looked straight into her dark eyes.

“What are you talking about?” She asked.

“Don’t play dumb with me princess. Where are my friends? Ren, Bertram,” he swallowed, “Rosemarie. I guess you planned this since you found out. Are you having the Ranleys executed too?”

“What?!”

“You pretended to be Doustan’s granddaughter to find out the whereabouts of the rebels. And after you got all your information, you had the village raided and everyone associated with the rebels arrested—No! You had them executed!”

“You’re mad,” she said, rising to her feet.

She walked over to Majestic and patted his nose. She was avoiding him, avoiding the truth. Zander marched over to her, his chain clattering against the floor. Her cloak was pulled back over her shoulder and he saw her dagger tucked in her belt. He held his breath as he reached out and grabbed it. She spun around. Her eyes widen when she saw the dagger pointed at her chin. Zander let his breath hiss out between clenched teeth.

“You,” he hissed. “You came here to kill me. Get rid of the Chasilian leader; break Chasilin’s spirit.”

She put her hands up.
“Please, Zander, you’re not yourself. You—“

“Shut up!” He yelled. “Shut up! Don’t pretend to know when I’m not myself! You don’t know anything about me!”

She trembled; her eyes filled with water. He chuckled.

“You DeLaney’s are all the same,” he said in a low voice. “Marching in with the roar of a lion, yet you’re nothing but cowardly vultures at heart.”

He grabbed her arm and turned toward the groomsman who stood shaking in his boots. Hector and Herbert stared at him.

“You horse piss!” Herbert yelled.

Zander marched to him, pulling the princess behind him. He lifted the dagger and brought it down on Herbert’s right cheek. The guard fell over. Zander pressed the blade against Hector’s face.

“You got something to say?” He asked.

Hector shook his head, the smell of beer pouring from his every breath. Zander clenched the dagger in his right hand tightly. He brought his fist back and punched Hector in the jaw. He spat on the unmoving guard, hoping he broke his jaw.

“You,” he pointed to the groomsman, “saddle up Majestic.”

The groomsman squeaked.

“Now!” Zander yelled.

The groomsman ran to get a blanket.

“What are you doing?” She asked, behind him.

Zander faced her, still holding on to her arm.

“I’m going to find out what you’ve done to my people,” he said.

He pulled her over to Mr. Pole and pushed her down beside him. He felt a pang of guilt as he looked down at the old man who’d called him a “perfect gentleman”. At that moment he was anything but that. Zander blinked. He had to do this. He wouldn’t be anyone’s fool, especially not a DeLaney’s. Princess DeLaney glared at him; he didn’t care. He watched the groomsman for a moment. Then he went over to the unconscious guards. There must be a key to his shackles on them somewhere. He searched them, but only found three keys much too big for the lock on his chains. He muttered a curse. Then he spied the guards’ weapons on the floor. There were two short swords and daggers, and a knife. He unbuckled Hector’s belt, put it on himself, and slid a short sword under it. Then he stuck a dagger into each of his boots. The knife and the princess’ dagger he also put under the belt.

“Is the horse ready?” He asked the groomsman.

“Just about, sir,” the groomsman answered.

Zander looked over to where Snow and Mr. Pole were. Her head was bent over him and her hand lay on his neck. Her lips silently moved. Annoyed, he moved to grab her. An inch from her arm, he realized she was praying. He hesitated. His hand shook with indecision. No, it shook with something else. Warmth. Glowing warmth. Snow pulled her hand away from Mr. Pole’s throat.

“What the--?!” Zander exclaimed.

The cut was gone. There wasn’t even any blood.

“Mr. Pole?” Zander kneeled next to him.

Mr. Pole took a deep breath. His fingers slid across his throat. He looked at the princess and Zander did the same.
“How did you…?” Mr. Pole began.

She shook her head and stood, clutching her cloak.

“Snow?” Zander stared at her.

She took a couple steps backward. Her eyes were wide with fear.

“I… I didn’t…I don’t…” She turned on her heel and ran out of the stable.

Zander jumped up. He followed after her into the snow. The wind was raging. He stumbled and fell. Picking himself up, he looked around. There was nothing but white darkness.

“Snow!” He yelled into the wind. “Snow!”

He took a couple steps forward. Disoriented, he turned around. Ice stung his eyes and skin. He put his arm against his face.

“Snow!” Where was the stable? He couldn’t even see the stable! He couldn’t have gone that far.

He turned. Was it this way? He took a few stumbling steps. Ice pelted down so hard, he could barely keep his eyes open.

“SNOW! SNO—“

Something pushed him down. He fell to the slippery ground. For a moment he forgot where he was. Something pressed down on his back. He gasped for air. It pressed harder. Low laughter vibrated in his ear. Zander’s heart pounded. The aura felt evil. He needed to get away.

“Are you afraid?” The low male voice said.

Zander’s arms flayed about in an attempt to move. He couldn’t. The crushing weight pinned his body to the ice. He felt an icy finger drag up his cheek, freezing the skin.

“We can’t have your kind wondering around,” the man said.

“M-m-my k-kind…?” Zander squeaked out, his teeth chattering.

The finger passed over his temple. The cold hurt his brain. It slowly made a circle around the edges of his forehead.

“The girl,” the man said.

The girl? Zander felt his body going numb. His breath came in slow rasps.

“She’s mine,” the man said. “All mine. We’re going to have so much fun. I can’t have you getting in the way.”

Was he talking about—

“Snow?” Zander said aloud.

“Snow?” The man questioned.

“I mean, the princess.”

The man chuckled.

“Zander?” Snow’s voice called from somewhere nearby. “Zander? Are you there?”

He opened his mouth to tell her to run, but the man placed his fingers on his cheek, and Zander’s mouth froze in place.

“Perfect.” The man whispered. “Now, you stay here and freeze to death. Nice and slow.”

Zander’s numb body hardened at the man’s command. The man got off him and walked in the direction of Snow’s voice.

“Zander?” Snow said.

His breath came so slow, he wasn’t sure if he were really breathing. He felt like he was drifting away. Her screams echoed in his ears like a distant howl of a wolf—sudden, frightening, and alone. There was nothing he could do, but try to drift away faster to get the terrified screams out of his head.