Winter. It was known for its crystal white beauty, its heavily laden trees and sparkling fresh white snow, rolling hills of picturesque splendour and dazzling snowflakes. Hot meals, fires crackling merrily in hearths, the thrill of tobogganing down a slope at breakneck speed and the sound of boots thumping the floor so that wet socks could be removed to hang in front of the fire were all part of winter’s charm. There were things one naturally thought of when recalling winter. Christmas. Sandalwood. Frosted windows and digging away snow drifts from doors. The squeals of delight when skating on a frozen pond and the scent of pine and wet earth were among some of the most pleasant memories one could ever have of winter.

But its beauty had become foul and ugly, turning grey as though it was withering. Everything was grey. The sky was bleak and grey with miserable tuffs of light grey clouds scurrying ahead of dark grey storm clouds. The hills in the distance, once pale lavender, were grey and the land, where not covered in dirty snow, was grey. There was no life, no sparkle and no joy. Trees, even the evergreens, had withered, curling up their branches to try and flee the eternal, unrelenting chill. And when there was a patch of meagre sunshine, the snow immediately melted and the ground turned to slush.

On a patch of rocky ground, where a green meadow had once spread, between the slush and the snow, stood a man. He was tall and broad shouldered and covered from top to toe except for his piercing blue eyes. A heavy overcoat was wrapped around his torso while several layers of trousers were tucked into knee high strapped leather boots that were splattered with mud. His hands were sunk deep into pockets, the gloves he wore no match for the persistent bite of cold. He wore a scarf knotted around his forehead and over his mouth, folds of it covered his neck and the hood of his coat was up.

He could easily have been a vagabond for all appearances.

And yet he was a knight.

He lifted his chin, flaring his nostrils to breathe in the lazy wind that ripped through his body as though the many layers of clothing were nothing more than silk. He sank to his knees and pulled one glove off. Daring the cold to bite he pressed it to the ground and paused. Finally he leaned all the way down and held his ear to the chilled earth.

“Sir Janus?”

The young squire clamped his mouth shut at a mere flick of a hand in his direction. He resisted the urge to stamp his feet to try to keep warm, choosing to rub his hands together and blow into his palms.

The knight stayed at the ground for a long moment before rising up and tugging his glove back on.

“What is it squire?”

“Forgive the intrusion Sir Janus but the scout has returned.”

“And I would wager that the enemy is over five hundred strong and consists of at least two hundred of those eye stitched minions, one hundred dwarf infantry, a regiment of minotaur, twenty trolls and a giant.” Sir Janus eyed the squire. “Well?”

“The scout did report almost those exact numbers…though he also said there were a number of flyers, possibly harpies…and no giant.” The squire winced as the knight strode towards him, his large frame casting a shadow over his face.

“Well…I cannot be right every time.” He pulled the scarf up over his mouth as he walked his warhorse that huffed around the frozen earth, searching in vain for anything to nibble. “Have the heads of the divisions assembled?”

“They have and await your command sir.” The squire scurried after the knight and mounted his own steed, a mountain pony that was too short for its gangly rider. “Sir Janus…”

“Speak.”

“Why send out a scout at all if you are able to determine the enemy’s forces by skill alone?”

“I am, after all, human. Quite capable of making a mistake.” The knight looked at his squire. “Apparently there is no giant.” The squire shuddered. “Not keen on giants?”

“No sir.”

“In general or…”

The squire swallowed. “I had a…a bad experience with a giant.”

The knight raised his eye brows but the squire looked away, clearly unwilling to talk further. “Do not worry Jack. No giant will be grinding your bones to make his bread.” Jack shuddered and the knight couldn’t help but chuckle as he rode off, his voice trailing back to the squire. “Fe, fi, fo, fum!”

Jack picked up the reins of his shaggy pony. “That isn’t funny.” He muttered and kicked his reluctant pony into a fast trot after the disappearing knight. As they approached a low ridge, they saw that the resistance had assembled an army…or at least a portion of one. Truth be told the human resources were stretched a little thin after years of war and more defeats than victories. Many humans, women, children and cowards, had fled to the South, hoping to outrun the reign of the Snow Queen.

But there would be no where to hide if she was victorious and her army was far greater than theirs, if only because its members were harder to kill. Dwarves, wolves, goblins, trolls, Minotaur, serpents, harpies, filthy beasts and man eating giants would overrun the earth if it weren’t for the thin line of humans that stood in her way.

The knight and squire picked their way through the valley that led up to the ridge where the army was encamped. Squires like Jack were pouring tar in a grid pattern through the shallow valley. The thick black sludge made dark lines on the grey earth and stone, the last of it ending at least fifty metres before the first line of the human army.

The infantry were a scraggly crew and looked more like beggars than soldiers in their many layers of threadbare clothing. They stamped their feet and rubbed their hands together, eyeing the sky for the tell tale sign that battle was imminent. Those not content with waiting around were at the whetting wheels or at the makeshift blacksmiths. Dotted throughout their thin ranks were metal barrels with well stocked fires burning bright and they were crowded at best as the soldiers tried to keep their fingers from freezing. Behind the infantry was the cavalry whose numbers were less than half of the infantry. Riders checked their mount’s tackle and inspected hoofs, looking for anything that might sabotage their charge. Behind the cavalry were the archers. These were the back bone of the human army. While the infantry and cavalry risked their lives going against the enemy in physical battle, the archers thinned the ranks so that the numbers of the enemy were not so great as to obliterate them.

They also served a dual purpose. Once the front lines had crossed into the tar trap, the archers lit up the tar with flaming arrows, separating regiments and causing confusion. It had proved useful in the past but Sir Janus wondered if it would be enough for his small army was two thirds the size of the one that was marching on them now. And yet anyone looking at him would not have seen any hint of fear or doubt in the manner with which he rode past their ranks. His back was straight, his chin firm and his eyes were clear. His very presence caused a ripple effect for the weary and frost bitten soldiers to stand a little straighter and to push their chests out.

Sir Janus rode to the large tent that held the heads of the divisions. The head of archers and the head of cavalry were known to him. The head of infantry was not. He was a tall, broad shouldered man with very dark, shoulder length hair tied back from his chiselled jaw. His eyes were darkly shadowed and Sir Janus recognized a soul that suffered within his hardened expression.

He knew it because he wore the same one himself.

“I was worried we would be starting without you.” Janus remarked, holding out his hand. “Janus.”

“I have heard of you. They say you have no fear.”

“Oh I have fear.” Janus’s mouth curved into a wry grin. “I fear gangrene, snakes and I have a strange paranoia about the grime that builds up between one’s toes…” Then his mouth fell flat. “As for death…it and I are old friends. We have walked hand in hand together on occasion. But I have never stayed.”

The head of infantry eyed him, waiting for the betraying flinch that gave away the terror beneath the bravado. But it never came. When he was satisfied he held out his hand and they held tight.

“My name is Jerome. I am a beast killer.”

“Good. The Minotaur are all yours but your initial charge must halt at the beginning of the tar traps.” Janus turned to the head of cavalry and the head of the archers. “Archers need to thin the front line troops and, when the armies meet, concentrate on their fliers. Cavalry, you need to ride over the top of the stitched beasties and meet the dwarves. With your height on the horses, you will have a little advantage.”

“What will you do?” Jerome asked.

Janus raised his eyebrows at the impertinence of the question. “I am going after the giant.”

Jack trembled behind him and opened and shut his mouth, wondering if he should speak.

“Sir Janus, the scout did not report a giant.”

“Then it’s a lazy day for me. Are we clear? We do not have much time.”

Janus strode out of the tent to where his own, much smaller and modest, tent was waiting. Jack hurried in ahead of him and held out his arms for the layers of clothing Janus shed. When he was down to his long sleeve tunic, trousers and boots he stopped. Jack heaved the clothing aside and helped him strap into his armour. It was all well worn leather. Wearing metal was a death trap. Leather was much more flexible and couldn’t freeze them to the core. Jack tied the straps as tight as he could while Janus checked his arm bands and slotted blades and throwing axes into every available slot. He strapped a crossbow with a single four pointed arrow attached to a long cord on it to his back. He took up a silver dagger, its blade so finely polished he could see his grim reflection, and tucked it into his boot. At last he picked up his sword.

Jack eyed the razor sharp blade with trepidation. “Do you need me to carry that for you sir?”

“No I’ve got this.” Janus looked at Jack. “My previous squire used to wear his own armour and ride into battle with me.”

Jack looked away. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen winters and his gangly form, freckled face and red hair made him look even younger. “Your previous squire died in such a way Sir Janus.”

“I know. Or else I would not have my current squire.”

Jack hesitated. “I’m afraid sir. I do not want to die.”

“Neither does the person standing behind you.” Janus’ face was not hard or judgmental but there was a lingering sorrow in it. “You simply have to decide whether it’s you…or him.”

He strode out of the tent without a backward glance, leaving Jack standing in the cold, shivering.

Janus took up position at the very lip of the ridgeline, the rest of the troops set back so that they were not easily seen. From the enemy’s perspective, it would look like one man standing in their way. He was bitterly cold without his layers on but he knew the moment the cry of charge was ordered, he would burn with a righteous fire and excessive layers would only get in the way. The sky above had surrendered from light grey to dark grey clouds that had swirled ominously in the distance. These clouds blotted out the sun, allowing daylight adverse creatures to travel without fear. And as the dark clouds rolled overhead, light snowflakes began to fall.

How odd that something so innocent and beautiful had become the heralds of death?

“Look here…” Jerome’s voice said quietly next to him. “Here comes your old friend.”

Even from across the valley, the enemy’s army was impressive in its dark, grotesque lines. Snarling beasts, roaring dwarves, hissing beasties and trolls beating shields and gurgling insults in their foul tongues threatened them even at this distance.

Janus felt Jerome shift. It was not one of anxiety, but of anticipation.

How odd.

Perhaps, he too, fought to forget.

“Patience Jerome.” Janus said.

“What are we waiting for?”

Janus looked to the ground and saw frost rippling towards them, drowning the rocky ground in a coating of white. The moment it hit the ridgeline he raised his sword.

“Charge!”

Jerome leapt from the ridge line, his body lithe and fearsome like a tiger unleashed. His frame was clearly seen by the infantry who immediately followed, streaming down the ridge with a deafening roar. Janus watched, praying Jerome did not forget about the tar traps.

At the charge of their army, the enemy unleashed its beasties and Minotaur. They surged forward, screaming death and brandishing blackened weapons that had dried blood on them. They were unstoppable.

Janus allowed himself a grin.

Jerome pulled the infantry to a halt just before the tar traps but the enemy was not so well trained and knew no restraint. So they ploughed towards their waiting prey…

“Fire!” Janus roared and the archers let loose their flaming arrows, lighting the tar and streaking flames across the ground, splitting up the beasts, severing them from their regiments. Black smoke billowed as the tar burned despite the cold, blotting out almost everything.

It wouldn’t last but for a short amount of time, the pawns of the enemy’s attack were blinded and confused. Jerome and his infantry cut down anyone that blundered out of the smoke while the archers rained down countless arrows, striking as much as they missed yet doing a great deal of damage. But their small victory was short lived as a harpy descended, screaming with outstretched hands and behind her came a hoard of flying beasts and birds. Their wings beat back the smoke with ice and snow in their wake which smothered the flames and beat back the smoke.

Janus didn’t hesitate. “Cavalry!” He cried and barely blinked as dozens of horses rode past him, streaking down the ridge. Jerome yelled something to the infantry and they clustered together, leaving room for the infantry to plough into the army that had swelled to include the Minotaur and trolls. When the cavalry had cleared them, Jerome led the infantry further in.

Janus watched from his vantage point, hands twitching now, his blood pumping to an almighty boil. He longed to be in the fray, carving up the beasts without remorse but he kept himself firm on the ridge line. He had to wait.

A large Minotaur, very likely the general over this particular army, blew on a horn and Janus’ jaw tightened as from behind a hill came a figure that, even at this distance, towered over everything else.

“That’s…that’s…a…”

Janus looked and was genuinely surprised to see Jack quivering at his side, all colour removed from his face and fear etched into every part of his being.

“Jack. Run.” Janus ordered but Jack was frozen to the ground with fear. Janus grabbed his shoulder and shoved him back. “Stay behind me.”

He removed his crossbow and looked up into the sky. The smoke and haze was going to make the shot difficult but he had to get it right the first time. He tried not to watch as the giant thundered across the ground, its great club made from an ancient oak flinging soldiers from both sides left and right, clearing a path with terrifying speed. Once a giant started running…they were incredibly difficult to stop.

Janus saw a shadow pass overhead, corrected his aim and fired. The cord followed the arrow into the gloom and at first he thought he’d missed…then there was a screech and suddenly the cord tightened and Janus, having wrapped the end around his forearm, was dragged upwards into the sky.

Clouds and air whistled past him as he flew blindly for a few seconds before breaking free of the haze and seeing a snarling, twisted face screeching at him. The harpy was no doubt unimpressed at having an anchor pierced through her body and someone clinging on to the rope. She twisted and flung herself about, hoping to wrench him free but Janus held on with a death grip.

“Let go!” She howled.

“I wonder how many begged that of you over the years?” Janus roared back.

“I will silence you as I did them!” She snarled and gripped the cord and pulled him closer and closer. Janus risked a glance down. The giant was almost beneath him but not quite. He yanked on the cord, dragging the harpy to the left, her wings beating down as she hauled him up. Her teeth were pointed and yellow and her jaw opened far too wide for comfort.

Janus pulled out a dagger and severed himself from the cord and immediately began to fall. The harpy, unaccustomed to her prey being able to fall from her grasp, darted down after him. Janus kept his head even as he fell to take out two throwing axes and flung them, not at the body of the harpy for they were not easy to kill…but at her wings. The deadly sharpened edges clipped her wings from her body and, with an ear piercing shriek she plummeted. Janus spared no more time for her, twisting almost too late and landing hard on the back of the giant.

Now giants were just like big people. Their skin was no less difficult to pierce although it was thicker and vital organs were harder to reach with regular blades. So they wore armour, not unlike what Janus was wearing. Their legs and ankles were shielded with guards and the particular giant Janus was clinging onto wore a breastplate and back plate. Janus was gripping tight to a leather tie and used the lacing to clamber up to the giant’s neck.

The moment he reached skin, the giant knew someone was on his back and the giant club that had been swiping at the ground, now twisted in his hand to smack his back. Janus dodged and threw himself this way and that, trying to reach his long sword. In the end he gave up on that and grabbed hold of the dark strands of hair that peeked out of his helmet and used them to climb up beneath the giant’s own helmet. Now the giant was incensed, scrabbling at his body, bellowing loudly and probably causing absolute mayhem at his feet. Hopefully everyone was far out of the way by this stage.

Janus couldn’t draw his long sword in the confined space but then the giant did what anyone with an insect in their helmet would do. He pulled it off. Light washed over Janus and he looked up to see a rare sight. Sunlight through the dark clouds, reassuring him that all was not lost. He drew his long sword and, as the giant’s hands reached up to grab him, stabbed upwards into its skull…then held on for dear life as the giant bucked and twisted, screamed and bellowed.

In the end Janus could not hold on until the giant actually stopped dying and was in fact dead. His hands, slippery with blood, slid from the hilt of his sword and he was flung to the ground below. He landed on a pile of bodies, humans and beasts alike and saw that the giant might indeed have his revenge as, in its final death throes, one of its great feet blocked out the sun, the clouds…the sky…everything went dark…until a gangly figure ran into the frame and stabbed upwards. The giant’s foot pierced the sword which would have barely registered in all the blinding pain it was feeling but it was enough to tip the giant over in the other direction, its great hulk falling to the ground with an almighty crash.

Janus immediately rolled and got to his feet, climbing up the still twitching leg of the giant. He could see the bloody troops struggling to hold the line as trolls descended upon them.

“Forward!” He cried, holding his sword up high, easily seen by everyone on top of the slain giant. The soldiers rallied themselves and clambered up onto the giant and met the trolls head on. Janus didn’t look to see that he was being followed. He simply charged with his sword and didn’t look back.

In the dim light of dusk the human survivors of the battle picked through the bodies, their work aided by the light of giant bonfires. Janus was working by the feet of the slain giant, turning over bodies with his left hand, his right arm hanging uselessly by his side. At last he spied a tuft of red hair and heaved a Minotaur corpse up and over to see a gangly frame squirming beneath.

“What do you know! You lived!” Janus declared, grabbing his hand and drawing him to his feet.

Jack coughed and gagged. “After hours beneath a stinking minotaur, I almost wish I hadn’t.”

Jack was grazed, bloodied and he limped as he walked but he was alive. He looked around in shock at the mess around him. “Did we win?”

Janus shrugged, picking up a twitching arm of a stitched beast. He flung it into the nearest bonfire where it crackled and burned.

“If you are counting bodies…we drew even I think.”

“Their numbers were greater than ours. Why didn’t they run us down?”

Janus jerked his head towards the body of the giant. “They were counting on the giant’s presence to inspire and spearhead the final charge. With him gone, they were not so keen to die for a Queen that fights on a different front, leagues from here.”

“That is why you killed the giant?” Jack asked.

“According to the rumours running around the battlefield…you killed the giant Jack.”

“I did not…”

“No one saw me they did see you stabbing the giant in the foot and causing him to fall and die.” Janus put his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Jack…the giant slayer!”

“But it isn’t true!” Jack blurted as a group of soldiers raced towards him and lifted him up on their shoulders. His puny voice protesting couldn’t be heard over their shouts of praise and Janus chuckled wearily as his young squire was spirited away, no doubt to retell his brave story over and over by the campfire until he would almost come to believe it himself.

“Humour on the battle field?” Janus turned and saw Jerome striding towards him. He was as black blood stained and scraped as the rest of them. “Isn’t that a little disrespectful?”

Janus shrugged. “The biggest joke of them all is that tomorrow…we get to do this all over again.”

Jerome shook his head. “That is an awful joke.”

“I know!” Janus snorted then coughed, clutching his arm as it jarred against his body. Jerome dragged him to a bonfire where he could see better and sat him on a troll’s corpse.

“This is going to hurt.”

Janus was going to make another joke but Jerome used his remaining strength to crack the dislocated shoulder back into place. Janus roared, taking an instinctive swing at Jerome who dodged easily and sat him down again.

“I am going to get salt for your wounds and wine for the pain. Stay here.”

Janus wobbled on his unpleasant chair. “You are a lousy physician.” He called out then looked down. A leg of one of the stitched beasts was twitching out of the line of fire. Janus kicked it with his foot and it landed squarely into the flames.

“Make sure you burn every last one!” He ordered the young squires who were clearing up the bodies. He watched as the bodies of soldiers were pulled from the battlefield. The bodies of the enemy were left in piles, apart from the minions whose stitched bodies actually survived long enough to be put back together which is why they were burned. The rest of the enemy would be left out for the night. In the morning they would disintegrate into dust and be blown away by the wind.

It seemed that only humans required burying.

“Sir Janus!” A young squire came running over to him. “There is something you need to see.”

He got up with difficulty, his body screaming at him that it could take no more abuse, and tried not to stumble over his own feet as he followed the squire. Near the heart of the battlefield there was a ring of people looking down at a figure. As Janus entered the circle he felt a shiver of horror course all the way through him. Though he could easily see that it was the de-winged body of the harpy, the face that looked up at him was one he could not erase no matter how hard he tried. Her porcelain skin, her pale green eyes, her white gold hair so soft around her pointed ears…

She looked up at him and raised her hand. “Please…” She whimpered…”Help me…”

Janus’ body shuddered and his throat closed over. He wanted to reach out and tell her that everything would be alright…that he forgave her…

“She’s so beautiful…” Someone said and it snapped him out of his reverie. With suddenly savagery he descended upon the body with the silver dagger pulled from his boot and plunged it deep into her heart.

She screamed, her face twisted back into its original foul form, her mouth and sharpened teeth opened wide and her hands clawed and reaching out for him. Janus threw himself back from her reach and watched as she gurgled, spat up black blood and collapsed to the ground.

Those that hadn’t fled when she changed looked to the knight in shock.

“Burn it.” He grunted. He watched as it was dragged away to a fire and felt his knees give way. A strong grip hauled him back to his feet.

“I thought I told you to stay put.” Jerome admonished. “On your feet. Walk out of this battlefield. Do not give the soldiers reason to doubt you.” Only by putting one foot in front of the other did Janus manage to walk out of the valley. Jerome had to give him a push up the ridgeline.

Then his body simply stopped functioning and he collapsed and blacked out.

The chateau was high in the Alps where snow used to be present at least seven months of the year. Now it was permanent but the inhabitants of the surrounding villages and those who lived and worked in the chateau were accustomed to heavy snow drifts and sub zero temperatures. They functioned a great deal better than many countries currently under siege by the Snow Queen. There were woodsmen out chopping down trees that were dragged into the bowels of the chateau where they would replenish the store of wood that had dried out and could be used to fuel fires and keep the chill at bay. Servants with lanterns hurried out from chateau to light lampposts that lined the high stone bridge that led from one side of the river to the large front gates on the other side of the river. It was a narrow bridge and the streams of soldiers arriving at the chateau were grateful for the light as dusk fell heavily, unable to bear the weight of night any longer.

On the inside of the front gates, mounts were led away while the soldiers were drawn across a short courtyard into the large foyer of the chateau. Fires crackled loudly in their hearths and the soldiers didn’t pretend to be strong as they clustered around them, pushing their hands as close as they dared. The smell of roasted boar was so thick it could almost be eaten as over a dozen turned on spits and the soldiers, once they had seared back the frost bite, huddled around spits, waiting for the carving to begin.

There were a number of guests who had arrived with the soldiers that were led away from the foyer, up a large curved staircase to where large glass and wood doors were opened to a room with a gabled roof, a roaring fire and a long table with high backed chairs down both sides and a large window at the far end, looking out over the courtyard of the chateau. Servants offered pewter goblets filled with hot drinks and covered with a layer of foam to those that entered and helped them out of their thick fur coats.

A tall, golden brown haired man in a velvet coat with gold braid and a white silk shirt looked out over the gathering of men and women. Despite the confidence he exuded with his clear eyes and strong chin, his wife could see the underlying nervousness beneath. She came along beside him, her dark skin rich and toned and her belly swollen with the prospect of a baby hidden beneath dark red velvet and knee high fur lined boots.

“Everything is going to be fine.” She said warmly and he looked down at her and smiled.

“Of course.” He clasped her hands in his and nodded. “Of course it is.” He raised his head and called. “Ladies and gentlemen, I know we are missing a few from our gathering but time is not on our side. If you could all take a seat…” He waited until the chairs stopped scraping against the stone and cleared his throat. “If you were not aware, I am Count Dominique De St Croix and you are all welcomed to my chateau where, with our combined wisdom and experience, we may yet prevail against the onslaught of the Snow Queen.” He looked around. “As you all know the fight against the Snow Queen ‘as been fought on many fronts and many of those that ‘ave led these brave men and women into battle sit at this very table. I know ‘o you are but we are not all aware so, before we begin, could you please stand and state your name.”

He gestured to the man sitting to his left who stood at the Count’s invitation. He had brown hair which had lightened with age and there were lines on his face but a sharp look in his eyes. There was something comfortably confident about him. Perhaps it was the fact that out of them all, he would have been the eldest by at least a decade yet his hazel eyes were alight and sparkling.

“Greetings friends and fellow warriors.” He began. “My name is Philip and I would give you the name of my kingdom but it disintegrated into civil war when my father lost all of his sons and perished from grief over one hundred years ago. I am currently in the employ of De St Croix as his knight.” He looked down at the fair to the point of being ethereal woman by his side, at least twenty years his junior who gazed at him with softness and absolute adoration. “This is my wife, Lady Freya who is a remarkable healer. She was once a princess just as I was a prince but her kingdom has also disappeared. We are the remnants of a world far gone by.”

As he sat down a woman stood up and her appearance was almost savage. She wore raw leathers and furs and her skin was scarred and her hair tied back in tight braids. “My name is Maja und I command de legion of female warriors to de East. It is my sisters und I who hold back de Snow Queen’s advance into de great foreign expanse.” No one would argue with that. The woman that stood before them was fearsome to behold and her gaze held no room for mirth or folly. Nor did the two women beside her, dressed in much the same way. “These are my daughters. My eldest, Abigail und my second, Krista.”

“Are you the werewolf women that rumour speaks of?” A woman with rich burgundy hair asked on the opposite side of the table. Though the woman looked at her with sharpness in her eyes, the questioner did not budge…though she may have flinched.

“My sisters und I ran with a werewolf many years ago but we are not afflicted in dat way.” Maja said honestly.

“The Snow Queen utilizes werewolves in the east, along with giants, which makes Maja and her sisters the perfect choice for defending that region.” Dominique explained.

“I see. Thank you.” The woman looked around and stood up, her hand clutching the shell necklace around her neck. “I suppose I am next. My name is Xanthe and my husband and I…”

The doors opened with a crash and the smell of spit roasts, sweat and the sound of singing washed in with the three new arrivals. The one at the front, partly obscured by the deer he bore across his shoulders, glanced around before announcing, “What a dump! It’s any wonder you see out the war in such appalling surroundings.”

The rudeness of the arrival did not sway the Count, though several other guests were embarrassed and a number bristled in indignation.

“Sir Janus. Your reputation precedes you.”

Sir Janus jerked his head to the left and then to the right. “This is my squire, Jack and this is my beast slayer, Jerome.”

“You are welcome to this gathering.” The count gestured to the servants who immediately offered Jack and Jerome hot drinks. Jack stayed behind his knight but Jerome took up position by the fireplace, preferring to stand.

“I know that it is ‘proper’ to offer a gift to the hostess.” He swung the enormous corpse of the deer from his shoulders onto the table with a deafening crash. “With my compliments.”

Maja, who was closest, peered over at the deer. “It is branded with de De St Croix mark.”

Janus did not take his eyes from De St Croix’s face. There was a mild twitch on the nobleman’s face before his wife touched his arm subtly and a wry grin appeared on the Count’s face. “Perfect. We were running low in the cool room.” Servants hurried forward and dragged the deer away. “Please, Sir Janus, take a seat.”

He did so, putting his muddy boots up on the table and leaning back, his outstretched hand filled with a steaming goblet within seconds. The Count seemed somewhat amused more than irritated at the knight’s abrasive manner.

“Sir Janus leads the front against the Snow Queen in the South East between two mountain passes. If she could get her troops through there, the Queen could sweep into the lower ‘alf of the continent and then onto the rest of the world.”

“You’re welcome.” Janus remarked with excessive arrogance.

“We were just introducing ourselves. Frederik and Xanthe, you were saying?”

Frederik stood up, dark curls by his forehead and ruddy cheeks gave him an eternally youthful expression. His right arm was in a sling. “As my wife was about to say, I am Frederik and I am an axe thrower.”

“I’ve heard of you.” Janus said. “Are you as good as they say?”

Frederik’s left hand was a blur of motion and suddenly a throwing axe was buried in the back of the chair, slightly to the right of Janus’ head. Janus pulled it free, flicked it over in his hand and slid it down the table to its owner. “Not bad. Could have been closer.”

“I am right handed.” Frederik said. “My troops and I are in the woods to the west.”

“Woodland warriors.” Maja said in appreciation.

“I am Prince Niccolo.” Announced a man with a dour expression on his warm coloured skin. His hair was curly and as dark as his shadowed eyes.

“And I am Princess Maria,” said the woman next to him, standing alongside her husband, “we are emissaries of our country and much of your supplies come from what we can do to raise funds.”

“Ah the life of a politician.” Janus said airily.

Before Niccolo could respond his wife spoke with terrifying speed and resolve. “Of course one finds it easy to throw an axe or wield a sword…but if you did not have it to begin with…you would quickly find yourself overrun.”

Janus met her glittering gaze with an almost bored expression. Princess Maria glared at him then recognition flashed in her eyes and they widened and her lips parted, about to speak.

“It is not, perhaps, as noble as axe throwing or fighting werewolves…but it is what we can do.” Niccolo explained, not realising he’d interrupted his wife who sat down, her eyes still on Janus.

“And it is appreciated. Without your support, those fighting at the front lines would not ‘ave the weapons they need.” De St Croix gestured to a slender woman with black hair tied in an over the shoulder plait, lips as red as a rose and skin as pale as milk. “And most of you would know Snow White.” She nodded at their perusal, permanently aware that her story was one of the most famous of them all. “Now that we are all acquainted and before supper is served, to business.

As you are all well aware the fight against the Snow Queen ‘as been going on for almost eight years and in that time our losses ‘ave been catastrophic. In truth we should ‘ave been overrun by now and her forces well and truly invading the south of our land. ‘er beasts and mythical monsters ‘ave beaten us back time and time again and yet we ‘old.”

“We only hold in summer.” Sir Philip pointed out. “In autumn we notice a decline in our defences and in winter we are at her mercy. The moment the weather starts to warm we gain precious ground.”

“Precisely. It is into that very reason I ‘ave been focusing my efforts for if ‘er attacks continue much longer we will not ‘ave the man power to keep ‘er at bay, no matter the season.”

“What do you plan to do?” Niccolo asked.

“To ‘ave a spy inside the Snow Queen’s ranks.”

There was a degree of muttering. “That would mean trusting a beast.” Jerome remarked from his distance by the fireplace. “The Snow Queen lets no one else into her midst.”

The Count laid eyes on him and Jerome barely held his gaze. “And as you and I are well aware…beasts are difficult to control.”

A pause, heavy with meaning, passed between these two men, ending when Jerome gave a slight nod, conceding to the Count’s remark. De St Croix looked back to the table. “But it is not only beasts that the Queen trusts. There are dwarves as well.”

“We thought dey were our friends und allies,” Maja snarled, “until dey turned on us three years ago.”

“They ‘ad suffered grievously in the war. It is no doubt that the Snow Queen offered them to return to their ‘ome in the mountains once they ‘elped ‘er wipe out those they ‘ad stood with.”

“You make excuses for traitors? That is a singular talent.” Janus played with a dagger on the table, scratching against the polished surface.

“I understand their predicament.” The Count responded firmly. “They left their ‘ome to fight when the Queen descended from the mountains with ‘er ‘oards. We promised them a swift end to the war if they stood alongside us but for years they were separated from the land they loved.”

“Do not gloss over the fact that they entered into clandestine meetings with the Queen and we knew nothing of it until we woke one morning and they were gone!” Frederik argued. “You cannot play down their treason. No dwarf can be trusted.”

Snow White gazed at him. “Surely that is like saying all man is fair or all women are hysterical and prone to fainting.” Maja gave a snort at this.

“My point is,” Frederik argued, “the only ones within the Queen’s ranks that we have a connection with are the dwarves and what dwarf will betray his own kind for us?”

“De St Croix, there is no doubt you are an excellent strategist,” Niccolo added, “but this is not a wise undertaking. You have no guarantee that the dwarf you coax into betraying his people will deliver you accurate information.”

The Count sighed and Janus eyed him sharply. “You’ve already done it, haven’t you? There’s a dwarf acting as a spy inside the Snow Queen’s camp.”

All eyes turned to De St Croix who nodded. “Yes.” His answer invoked a great deal of murmuring and he hand to hold up his hand to arrest everyone’s attention again. “Before you judge me too ‘arshly, perhaps you should ‘ear what this particular dwarf ‘as to say.”

Snow White immediately sat up as the doors opened and a ferocious looking dwarf with black hair shot through with silver stomped into their midst. Before anyone could react she flew out of her chair and threw herself upon him.

“Marjellan!” She cried as she wept into his neck. “I began to fear the worst.”

“There, there.” He gave a grim chuckle and tried to pry her fingers from him. “Did I not promise to return to you?” He touched her face tenderly, wiping away the tears and a smile softened the hard lines that marred his skin. “Never fear my beloved. I would have braved the worst to be with you.”

The intimate moment caused most to look away, embarrassed by the emotion while the Count waited for Janus to make a snide remark of some sort. Yet when he looked at the knight he saw a dark expression on his face. It almost looked like regret. So…there was hope yet…

“Ladies and gentlemen, I introduce Marjellan to you.” De St Croix gestured for the dwarf to come forward and he did so with a slight limp. Snow White fussed over him a little and he batted her away half heartedly, enjoying the cloying attention of his wife after so many months. “When the dwarves began talks with the Snow Queen, negotiating their change of sides in the war, Marjellan and ‘is brother Borrick came to me with their concerns. They were not of the mountain dwarves, ‘aving lived far from their kin for many years and with Marjellan wed to a human woman…they ‘ad a different perspective to the Snow Queen than their greater family.”

“They had all but forgotten that the Snow Queen tried to kill my wife and my brothers many years ago,” Marjellan growled, “and any memory of her cold bloodedness was swept away by her promises.”

“Borrick agreed to stand with ‘is kin and to denounce the ‘uman race in order to spy for us.” De St Croix lowered his eyes. “Only six weeks ago did I learn that Borrick perished.”

“By us or by her?” Frederik asked.

“I do not know.” Marjellan admitted. “I knew he was worried that some suspected his allegiance was not legitimate. He asked that I enter the fold to carry on his work if anything should happen to him. That was four months ago.”

“Well…leaving aside the fact that you did not have this risky endeavour sanctioned…” Niccolo let his disapproval be known, “what is the result of your time in the Snow Queen’s camp?”

Marjellan drank deep from his goblet and wiped the foam from his beard. “She is human.”

Only the fire made any noise as everyone digested this information.

“She…but she leads un-human creatures against humans.” Xanthe blurted. “Why would they be compelled to obey her?”

“Perhaps dey don’t know.” Maja offered.

“Or they’re as scared of her as we are.”

“Do not lose sight of the important part of that statement,” De St Croix said firmly, “that the Snow Queen is human.”

“Which means…?” Maja shrugged.

“Humans are easier to kill.” Jerome looked up. “If you are going to choose between a mythical beast and a human in a death match, pick the beast for the human will die. No silver weapons, no crucifixes, you do not need to sever their head from their body and they do not keep going if you take a limb off. Humans are fantastic at dying.”

Sir Philip chuckled darkly. “Now there’s a happy thought.”

“What good is that information?” Janus demanded. “She’s human. So what? She still commands ice and snow. She does not require bodyguards or soldiers to watch over her frail human soul. With one look she can freeze the blood in your veins from beyond an arrow’s flight. She may be easy to kill but it is impossible to get through her own self defences.”

“Impossible was what we once believed.” De St Croix looked to Marjellan. “Tell them what you learned.”

“There is one thing the Snow Queen fears,” Marjellan explained, “one creature that can undoubtedly kill her.” He paused and they waited with baited breath. “A dragon.”

The empty pause was broken when Janus snorted. “A dragon?” He shook his head. “That is your answer? The result of your risky spying? Of course she would fear a dragon. Dragons are hot and filled with fire and know no fear. There isn’t anything on earth that doesn’t fear a dragon. It is not coming up with the idea of something she is afraid of. It is finding it and wielding it to our advantage. You might as well wish for the ability to turn back time!”

The room exploded into a loud debate with many voices speaking over the top of each other until it reached a fevered pitch. In the midst of the arguing the Count’s wife looked at her husband. “There are no dragons on the earth my love.” Giselle said gently. “They died out long ago.”

De St Croix looked down at his beautiful wife with sadness in his eyes. “I am afraid that is not true, my love.” Her lovely brow furrowed and she swallowed as he took her hand. Before he could calm the chaos Marjellan bashed his goblet on the table.

“Shut up!” He roared and then there was silence. “If a dragon did not exist then the Snow Queen would not fear it. But one does exist. I know it does because she has it imprisoned in her ice fortress in the mountains.”

Now there was a new silence, one filled with a faint glimmer of hope.

“Are you sure?” Niccolo asked, filling the void.

“I did not take such a rumour lightly. I tested it, laughed about it drunkenly at camp fires and, when we regrouped in the mountains, I left the front lines and trekked up to the fortress to find out for sure.” Marjellan frowned. “Beyond the Snow Queen’s castle there is a lake frozen permanently over. On it is a maze of ice sheets standing straight up in the air and they shift and move with every attempt to get through it. I eventually had to give up and climbed to the tower of the fortress and looked down into the heart of the maze. There is something imprisoned in ice at the heart of the maze with a wingspan far beyond that of a harpy.”

“You mean a dragon?” Jerome asked.

“I mean…it had dragon wings and…it was difficult to see but…” Marjellan looked at his wife, needing someone to believe in him without question. “I swear it looked like Jé Kinah.”

It was strange how a single name could cause rippling reactions through such a diverse gathering.

“Are you sure?” Snow White asked.

“My eye sight is not what it used to be but…” Marjellan shook of his doubt. “Yes. It looked like her but not like her…”

“Wait.” Maria spoke up. “Did you say the name Jé Kinah?”

“You know it?”

“I know, knew, her.” Maria grasped Niccolo’s hand. “Do you remember the woman who convinced me to come to the palace after the ball and helped me escape the guards…”

“Yes! Her name was something unusual like Jé Kinah.”

“I am fairly sure it was Jé Kinah. But she disappeared right after we were reunited.” Maria looked at the faces that gazed at her expectantly. “I never saw her again. She appeared just like a real fairy godmother and disappeared just as mysteriously.”

“But she is, was, not a dragon.” Snow White argued. “She was an elf.”

“Mythological creature for sure but not the one we are after.” Niccolo sighed.

“I knew a Jé Kinah as well.” Maja said and immediately all eyes turned to her. “She took de place of a village girl und rescued my sisters und I from a werewolf.”

“Was she an elf or a dragon?”

Maja paused. “Neither, not dat I thought but…dere was something strange about…de way de wolf regarded her. It feared and respected no one yet it looked at her like she was…und den she did…something…” She pressed her fingers to her forehead. “I have tried so hard to forget. It is all a blur.”

De St Croix saw Freya lean close to Sir Philip and whisper something in her ear. “Lady Freya, your counsel is welcome ‘ere. Please…”

Freya was delicate and pale and clearly uncomfortable about speaking in a crowd. Philip saw his wife’s hesitation and spoke up. “We, too, knew a Jé Kinah. She climbed the outside wall of the keep and rescued myself and Freya. She was indeed an elf...but not a dragon.”

“Do you not remember?” Freya said softly, speaking to her husband instead of addressing the entire crowd. “We were in the tower and she told us not to look? And then she…she…”

Philip’s eyes widened in remembrance. “She changed.”

“What do you mean changed?” The Count’s eyes narrowed.

“She told us not to look,” he reiterated, “and the voice she spoke with…it was like it belonged to the earth and I did not dare argue. The next I knew we were sailing down from the tower to the bridge below.”

“And do you not remember what the guards called her?” Freya was trembling. “As we fled, what did they scream in terror?”

Philip paled. “Oh my…” He swallowed. “They called her a dragon.”

Skin prickled, throats closed over and palms began to sweat.

“I knew someone called Jé Kinah.” A thin voice spoke from the side of the room. Almost everyone turned to look at the gangly squire that had arrived with Janus. Jack shifted his weight on his feet.

“Do not keep it to yourself boy.” Marjellan grunted.

Jack fidgeted. “You see…there was this giant…actually lots of giants…and a beanstalk and…”

“You’re that Jack?” Frederik exclaimed.

“If you mean I was almost the Jack that freed the giants from their cloud prison to storm the earth unstoppably. If it weren’t for Jé Kinah…” Jack rubbed his forehead. “My village was so afraid. They chased her out of their boundaries. I never had the chance to thank her…” He looked up. “The thing is…we fell from above the clouds but she caught me and then she flew. Wings as wide as…” He held out his arms then dropped them limply. “Wider than you can imagine. And her voice was like death and her eyes…” He shuddered. “There was no light in her eyes.”

There was doubt in the expressions of those who sat at the table, wondering if the fantastical word of a youth should be trusted.

“The boy speaks the truth.” Jerome finally said and they looked at him. “There is an elf called Jé Kinah and there is a dragon on this earth…and they are one and the same.”

“What do you mean?” Niccolo asked.

“I was paid to hunt down a beast for the Snow Queen.” Jerome held up his hands. “I did not know the greater plan and I confess I did not find out. I am a beast killer and monster hunter and was promised the hunt of a lifetime. I used…bait…” His eyes flickered up and then down before they could rest on the Count. “I was told that the dragon tended to appear where other creatures of its ilk were so I lured it, her, into a city. I did not know that Jé Kinah was that dragon, the very beast I desired to hunt…until I watched her transform before my eyes.” He looked blankly into space, consumed by his memories. “It still haunts me…”

“But that night,” Giselle grasped her husband, “the night you thought I died… You told me Jé Kinah fled the city.”

“She did...eventually,” De St Croix insisted then lowered his eyes, “but before she did she became darkness and death itself. She terrorised the city that night and only when dawn broke did ‘er rampage end. I know your tender soul. So much ‘appened that night that I could not weigh you down with ‘er sorrowful tale.” Giselle sat down in shock, her husband’s hand on her shoulder. The Count cleared his throat and looked up. “From what I understand, Jé Kinah ‘id in the cathedral but fled when the King’s soldiers broke in and scoured it from top to bottom. Where she went after that I know not.”

“So it is her.” Marjellan nodded. “The last elf and the last dragon on the earth in the same body.”

“Is that possible?” Frederik asked.

“Without a doubt.” Maja spoke up. “You just need to look at werewolves. Dey are both man und beast. Most are victims of a werewolf’s menace but some…dey make deals with darkness…and den realise dat what dey hoped to gain eats dem from de inside out.”

“Harpies are the same.” Xanthe added. “Women, who have been wronged so badly, that they offer themselves up to powers beyond their comprehension so that they can have their revenge.” She looked at Frederik. “We were rescued by someone called Jé Kinah.”

“I remember. Without her…”

“I would have been burned alive,” Xanthe shook her rich red locks, “but I do not recall any transformations, great or small and certainly nothing like wings.”

“Perhaps it is a change on command.” Maria wondered.

“Whatever it is that is not quite our greatest problem.” Marjellan looked at Snow White. “She is imprisoned in ice…asleep…”

Snow White sighed quietly. “Oh dear…” And Freya gasped.

“What?” Niccolo demanded and looked at his wife who shrugged helplessly. “What is it?”

“True love.” De St Croix explained. “In order to wake Jé Kinah we need true love to rescue ‘er.”

“That could be a problem.” Frederik admitted. “When we met her, she was alone.”

“And when I met her.” Jerome added.

“She was travelling on her own when she rescued me.” Jack added.

“Und she never stayed to be congratulated,” Maja said sadly, “in fact she avoided it.”

“And any attempt to ask her to stay failed.” Philip remembered, looking at Freya. “She was afraid.”

“Of you?” De St Croix asked.

“No.” Freya answered. “Of herself. She was so frightened she would hurt us that she left our company the moment she could. I saw the fear in her eyes…”

“So…we have a problem.” Niccolo looked around. “In order to free the one thing that can kill the Snow Queen…we have to find the one thing she never had.”

The spark of hope that had begun to burn in the room was suddenly snuffed out without mercy.

“That’s that then.” Philip sighed.

“Before we lose ourselves in the bleakness of our situation, let us eat.” De St Croix clapped his hands and servants immediately entered with plates of roast meats, vegetables, crisp rolls and slabs of cheese. “Nothing ever looked so bad when stomachs were full.”

Food was a wonderful consoler of battered souls and the guests of De St Croix ate well and drank deeply. The Count was less inclined to feast, having eaten well most of the war, and stood at the fireplace, taking up Jerome’s position as the hunter sat down in order to eat. De St Croix gazed over the leaders of the army that he had summoned, feeling a great sense of responsibility to them all. He was not a warrior by any means but he was clever and aggressive in his strategies. His instinct about a spy in the Snow Queen’s camp had rewarded them a tremendous truth…but as to how they could use it to their advantage…if he were to fail…should their hope be crushed along with their bodies…the human race would become extinct and the earth would be ruled by the unnatural, the demonic and the depraved.

His eyes rested on his wife who moved with grace despite her years and full belly. A surge of protectiveness swelled within him and he recalled the three other children that slept in their rooms in the chateau. For his family, he would do anything to keep them safe.

Giselle sat with Freya and Xanthe, her face warm and her expression open. De St Croix smiled then saw someone else gazing at his wife with rapt adoration. He felt a twinge in his gut as he realised that Jerome was as in love with Giselle as he had ever been. She felt his eyes from across the table and glanced at him, softness in her face. De St Croix held his position with difficulty, waiting for things to play out. Giselle smiled and nodded at Jerome who couldn’t seem to swallow. He gave a curt nod then dropped his gaze to his food. Somehow Giselle knew De St Croix had been watching and glanced up at her husband and gave him a reassuring smile which blew away any jealousy the Count had felt rise up in him. Instead he felt a light stab of pain…with the realisation that Giselle could have easily fallen in love with the rugged, handsome hunter and De St Croix would have lost his soul to the foulness that had nearly consumed him.

Why things had turned in the Count’s favour and not Jerome’s was a mystery the Count could not fathom but his realisation that life could have turned out so very differently gave him empathy for the hunter and his unrequited love. De St Croix cleared his throat and continued to look around the room and saw Janus had finally put his feet on the floor and was staring into his ever decreasing level of mead while his meal lay uneaten in front of him. Niccolo was deep in conversation with Frederik so Maria, needing an excuse, picked up a pitcher of mead walked over to him.

“Can I refill your goblet sir knight?” She asked.

Janus held it out without looking up and she filled it up, never taking her eyes off his downcast face…inevitably spilling the mead. She gasped and he swore, changing the goblet over to his other hand and flicking off the amber liquid somewhat ruefully.

“I do apologise sir knight.” She professed.

“No harm done though if you are going to be so kind, next time watch the task at hand and stare not at my face.”

“I am sorry…it is simply…” Maria sat in the empty chair near him and her dark eyes gazed earnestly into his face. “You are familiar to me. Do I know you?”

Janus looked up. “If I were not a gentleman, I might have a snide remark to say about that.”

Maria blushed but she stayed steadfast. “You were at the palace. When I arrived with Jé Kinah you met us at the gates. Your appearance and manner have changed but…I am sure…”

“You are mistaken.” Janus looked at her sharply. “I do not know you nor do I have any desire to.”

Maria pressed her lips together and nodded. “Then I apologise again for taking up your time.” She stood and moved back to the safety of Niccolo’s side while Janus ran his tongue over his teeth and glared at his drink. After a while he stood up and strode to the large snow frosted windows that looked down into the iced courtyard, his goblet in his hand.

Snow White, who had watched the exchange, whispered something to Marjellan and stood up, going over to where Janus stood by the window. Before she could speak he growled softly.

“Is there no where to go in this blasted place to get a little peace from nagging women?” He demanded.

Snow White was not put off. In fact, she smiled. “You are going to have to do better than that to scare me away.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “Marjellan was not an amicable dwarf when I met him and he has not changed all that much in eighteen years. I know a hard but brittle exterior hiding a hurting heart when I see one.”

“And you think you are the one to heal me?” Janus muttered.

“No. Not I. But there is someone out there that could tame the savageness of your broken heart.”

“Not another sappy love story.” Janus turned to her. “Not everyone has a happily ever after. Not everyone falls in love or wants to fall in love! Just because you did does not mean I want to or will or can.”

“But you did.” Snow White insisted. “I know because I saw you all those years ago when you were barely more than a boy. You have changed Evander but I know it is you. When I knew you, you had hope and were bursting with adoration for the woman you stood beside.”

“Infatuation of a foolish child.” Janus cringed as Snow White chuckled, realising he had given himself away. He flushed with anger then jutted out his chin defiantly. “So what? So what if I am the boy that you remember? That changes nothing.”

“It changes everything!” Snow White exclaimed. “No one can remember Jé Kinah ever being with anyone or travelling with anyone…but I remember you. I remember that she saved you in the forest and that you fought alongside the dwarves and Jé Kinah when the beasts came after us. You stood side by side at our wedding. You left with her…”

“She abandoned me in the forest.” Janus snapped. “She drove me away in the city! She left me!”

Snow White paused and he realised just how loud his voice was as the rest of the room all turned towards them. Janus bristled with anger and Snow White, instead of backing away, reached up to touch his unshaven, bristly face.

“Maybe now…you understand why.”

Janus trembled with anger as Snow White drew her hand away and walked over to where Marjellan had been keeping a watchful eye. He knew he was still the centre of almost everyone’s attention and, after an agonising minute he turned and walked so fast he was almost running, throwing his goblet and mead into the flames as he stormed out of the room.

Outside on the landing that looked down into the foyer Janus leaned on the railing and tried to breathe life into his ragged lungs. The air was thick with smells and songs and he was warmer than he had been in a long time. In frustration he shed his outer layer, and tried to breathe normally.

“If you require fresh air, there is a balcony that way.” De St Croix’s voice said beside him. Janus barely glanced at him as the Count filled his pipe. “Come. Walk with me.”

“And if I should choose to go in the other direction?”

“Then nothing will change.” De St Croix moved away and Janus, who could not rid himself of the fire in his veins, eventually strode after him. The outside door was barred but the Count lifted it up with ease and led the knight onto the ice slick balcony. The freezing blast of wind was a welcomed relief to Janus who leaned on the snow covered railing and breathed in deep…then started coughing. “The one drawback to a well ‘eated chateau. The cold seems so much worse than if you live in it day after day, month after month,” he puffed on his pipe which smelt of pine and earth, “still…could be worse…we could be living in it for decades…or forever…”

Janus squeezed his eyes shut. “I know what you want of me,” he muttered, “but it is impossible.”

“All I want is an end to this war.” De St Croix said firmly. “An earth where winter ‘as its place, not its dominance and my children can learn to love all seasons and not just endure the one.”

“Pretty words Count but you do not know the past…the torment…” Janus looked up. “You do not know what she did…what she said…”

“What did she do? What did she say?”

Janus turned away. “Enough.”

“She pricked your pride?”

“She tore me to pieces.”

“Figuratively obviously,” the Count puffed away, “and ‘ad it been to any person, they would ‘ave forgotten it long ago. But to you, ‘o loved ‘er…no wonder you are as bitter as you ‘ave become.”

Janus felt the cold begin to bite yet remained steadfast. “She does not love me. And even if she did this…beast…dragon…has all but consumed her. She will have no love in her heart.”

“As long as there is a drop of ‘er original self left…there is ‘ope and chance for redemption,” De St Croix remarked, “but in truth, whether or not she loves you is irrelevant. It is whether, beneath your callous ‘eart and rude exterior, you still actually do love her.”

Janus gritted his teeth, refusing to show any emotion, whether it was the shiver of cold or the doubt in his mind. “I remember loving her.” He finally admitted before his teeth started chattering. “I remember adoring her. But that has long since passed. You see, for the past ten years there has not been one day where I have not hated her. With every step I vowed never to be so foolish or blind again and I worked that hate into my veins…into my soul.” At soul he beat his chest and glared at the Count.

De St Croix tapped out his pipe and tucked it into his jacket. “Then I suggest you attempt to rekindle that which you once cherished and forgive Jé Kinah because I am ordering you to go behind enemy lines and rescue ‘er.”

Janus’ nose scrunched in disgust. “And if I refuse?”

De St Croix shrugged. “I will have you charged with treason and throw you into one of my cells which were built from a time when my ancestors ‘anded out their own justice many years ago.”

Janus met the Count’s gaze and neither of them flinched. “Good luck with that.” He finally muttered and stormed back inside. His eyes were so dark and brooding that he did not see who he passed in the corridor as he made his way to his room where his squire was just prying his boots off and putting them in front of the fire. Jack jumped in fright when he stormed in.

“Sir…”

“Pack your things Jack, we’re leaving.”

“But we’ve only just…” Jack gulped and ducked his head. “Yes sir.”

Janus stood over the fire, the icy weather having chilled him to the bone in the few minutes he had spent outside. He closed his eyes and willed the rage inside of him to go back into its box where he had kept it hidden for so long. But it thrashed and raged, delighted to be let out and revelling in this reawakening. Janus flared his nostrils and scrunched his face up before picking up the metal poker and flinging it against the door. It had just opened and the poker sank deep into the doorframe.

Frederik looked at it with a flicker of surprise and a lot of admiration. “Not bad.” He said and yanked it out with effort. “You’d make a fine axe thrower.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Telling you you’re an ass.”

Janus gave a grunted. “That is certain.”

“And you’re not as foul as you make out.”

“And how would you know?”

Frederik folded his arms and leaned on the doorframe. “Because you are of royal blood and certainly for a time grew up in a princely manner.”

Janus shrugged his coat on. “What if I am?”

“Just searching for common ground.”

Janus eyed him. “You are a prince?”

“I was a king,” Frederik said without a hint of pride, “until my foolishness tore my kingdom apart and it disintegrated into civil war.”

“Not something you normally hear people boast about.”

“I wanted to let you know that you are not the only one who has had the world at your feet yet walked away from everything that you know for a woman.”

“Ah…Snow White has been talking.”

“And Maria.”

Janus swore and pulled his gloves on. “There is a slight difference between you and I, former king. I did not end up with the girl. You did.”

Frederik tilted his head. “The principle remains the same. We both made a decision that our royal blood and heritage were second to a woman. I loved mine while you hated yours and yet, here we both are.”

“Your point before I start throwing the rest of them.” Janus pointed at the hearth where several more tools were hooked on a metal rack.

“Your love had to be great for your hate to be so powerful,” Frederik said bluntly, “and you did no good by running from her all those years ago because her memory was biting at your heels the entire time. Is it not time to find out what might have happened if you had chased after her instead?”

Janus slung his bag on his back and started for the door. “No.” He said equally as bluntly and pushed past the former king with Jack scurrying after him. The young squire struggled to keep up as Janus headed for the door to the outside without looking to the left or the right.

“Sir…sir!” Jack called.

“Keep up or stay away.” Janus snapped. He knew the soldiers gathered in the foyer were watching his hasty exit with interest and quite a lot of concern as he stormed to the door and grasped the metal ring. Suddenly a flash of metal came ringing down and Janus flung himself to the side, narrowly missing being cleaved in two by a heavy broad sword. He looked up and saw Sir Philip standing at the door with his sword pointed at him in a clear challenge.

“Out of my way old man.”

“This old man has never been bested yet.” Philip chuckled. “You are welcome to try but if I win, you listen to what I have to say.”

“And if I win, you get out of my way.”

“Done.”

Janus heaved himself out of his coat and flung his bag at Jack who stumbled at its weight. Janus drew his long sword out and the soldiers nearby backed away and created a ring around the two warriors as Philip advanced swiftly and attacked without hesitation. His blows were strong and heavy and Janus found himself on the back foot straight away and had to keep deflecting the attacks until he was able to side step one and came back with swiftness. While Philip was no doubt the stronger swordsman, he was not as fast and Janus had spent years on the front lines honing his skills until he moved without thinking, instinctively striking, shifting in the next instant so that when the enemy attacked, they hit empty air.

“You are not bad old man.” Janus huffed as Philip repelled his attack.

“You are not defeated yet.” Philip’s creased face and blue eyes never wavered from his opponent’s face.

“You might be a little over confident.”

“And you are a coward.”

Janus didn’t want the words to affect his attack but the remark put fire in his veins…and deadened some of his instinct so that the next blow glanced off his ribs as he twisted out of the way just in time.

“You should only speak of what you know.”

“Oh I know of fear. I am an expert on fear and self deception.” Philip managed to laugh breathlessly. “If you only knew the torment I endured for years before being set free…”

“I am not in the mood for your heart wrenching tale old man…” Janus lunged and Philip caught him off balance and kicked him up the backside, sending Janus into the wall of soldiers. He turned around, humiliation and fury evident on his features and the soldiers propelled him back into the arena.

“I know what it is like to stand at the brink of all you ever hoped for and falter at the last second.”

“I never hesitate!” Janus brought his sword down and Philip barely shifted away in time.

“You must have or else you would not be here,” Philip grabbed his sword arm and held him tight, able to look into his face from mere inches away, “because when she pushed, you did not push back.”

Janus roared and they leapt apart, swords singing in the air as they moved around each other. Philip was tiring and Janus was blinded by rage.

“Or is what you fear hope?” Philip challenged and dropped his sword. “Look at these soldiers. Would you tell them that hope is for the weak? Or that it is futile?”

Janus didn’t drop his sword or relax his stance but he did blink and Philip blurred into the foreground while the faces of the soldiers sharpened. He could see their expressions, their concern that a famous warrior was about to tell them that everything they were enduring was for naught.

“Sometimes, no matter how much we hope, we are left wanting.” Janus muttered and the words were bitter in his mouth. “It makes us sick inside.”

“Bitter. Contemptible…aggressive?” Philip didn’t even see Janus cross the distance between them, his sword slipped with deadly accuracy between his side and his arm. Philip looked up in shock as Janus drew near to his face.

“I know what you’re doing.” He snarled and stepped back. “Too slow old man. You lose.”

Philip gave a mild shrug and watched as Janus took up his coat and stormed out of the chateau with Jack trailing behind him, the door left open and a snow storm whipping across its frame against a black night sky. Freya ran up to Philip and threw her arms around his heaving frame and he scooped his arm around her slender frame and kissed her head.

“I thought he might kill you.” She gasped.

“It was close,” Philip looked at De St Croix as he walked into view, “but not enough.”

“Do not fear. I ‘ave two more cards up my sleeve.” The Count remarked.

The wind was merciless and the snow was smashing into his body, coating him in a layer of ice but Janus paid it no heed. He saw nothing except the coated pathway of the bridge that led away from the chateau, lit only by the light of the moon as the lanterns had been doused in snow fall. Jack could barely keep up as he wound his scarf around his face.

“Sir! Would it not be better to wait until light? Going out after dark…there are beasts that could attack and what with the chill…”

“You can go back if you want squire.” Janus turned and looked at the young man bent under the weight of his trappings. “Go. The woods are no place for someone like you.”

Jack clearly didn’t want to be out after dark but he stood and shivered without retreating. “No sir. Squires are meant to stay with their knights. You are my knight. Where you go, I go.”

Janus nodded. “Fine. Keep up.”

He turned and glared at the figure standing in the lee of the right watch tower that was built against the far bank of the river. Even at this distance, obscured by snow, he could tell that the great bulk standing there was Jerome. Janus huffed and strode towards him with all the subtlety of a charging bull. Jerome looked up from his pipe, rugged up in a large fur coat and boots.

“Go on then!” Janus snapped. “Tell me your love story! Everyone else has in a desperate bid to get me to stay but none of them know about torment, about hope lost and of sorrow. They lord over me with their happily ever afters and do not know that some people miss out despite everything. So go on, tell me how love conquers all. Tell me that love is worth it! Tell me your happily ever after Jerome.”

Jerome blew smoke out that was whisked away immediately in the wind. “I cannot,” he looked Janus in the eyes, “for my happily ever after never happened.” He saw Janus falter but his expression remained hard. “The woman I loved…that I still love…loved and loves someone else,” he looked into his dark pipe and tapped out the remnants on the stone wall, “and on top of that I add something you know nothing about. Guilt.”

“Guilt.”

Jerome nodded. “I shot the woman I love in the heart with a poison dart.”

“Strange love.”

“I was aiming for the beast behind her when she stepped into my way to save it…him…” Jerome swallowed and breathed through gritted teeth. “Even now, over ten years later, I can still see her small frame collapsed in the rain without life…at my hand.”

The hardness in Janus’ face had softened as he saw in Jerome a tortured soul much like his own. He knew this man as well as he knew himself.

“I am sorry.” He said finally as they stood in the scant protection from the wind. “To have your love perish…by your own hand…”

“She isn’t dead.”

“What?”

Jerome shrugged. “The poison would have been enough to put a beast to sleep. It should have killed her and I truly believed she was dead the moment it poured into her veins. And yet she lived and still lives with her happily ever after.” His voice was hollow and his eyes seemed to flicker back to the chateau for a brief moment before looking down at the ground.

Janus felt his lips curl with contempt. “You really have nothing new to teach me except that which I already know. That sometimes it is not meant to be. Not everyone lives happily ever after.” He started to walk past, his feet nearly at the threshold of the bridge when he turned around. “Answer this Jerome and be sure to answer in truth. If the woman you love was trapped in an icy fortress high in the mountains and you were asked to rescue her, even though you knew that she would turn her back on you and run to her first love, would you honestly risk everything, even the protection around your own heart and soul, to go after her?”

Jerome raised his head and looked Janus in the eyes and in his gaze was strength mixed with sorrow.

“In a heartbeat.” He said quietly and yet the words reverberated into Janus’ core.

“In spite of everything…”

“Because of everything,” Jerome said, “because of her.”

Janus breathed out and looked up at the sky and the moon. He then closed his eyes and felt the beating of his heart once more. A sound he had long ago forgotten.

“So be it.” He whispered and began to walk back to the chateau, Jerome falling into step beside him. “You coming Jack?”

“Absolutely sir!” Jack nearly ran the entire way to the doors.

As Jerome and Janus crossed the bridge a figure launched themselves up over the edge, spear in hand, the tip pointed at the knight’s throat. Maja snarled at him, her appearance almost as wild as the werewolves she fought in the east.

“Put the spear down. I am going back.” Janus said ruefully. “The Count wins. No need for your soppy love story.”

“I wasn’t going to tell you a love story. I was going to beat you black und blue und drag you inside.” Maja stood up straight with her spear beside her. “I have no time for self pity. My sisters are dying on de war front. If I had to I would have dragged your sorry hide all de way up de mountain in order to see an end to dis war.” And from the deadly look in her eyes Janus believed every word of it.

Janus shook his head and then gave a short laugh. “Very well. I surrender. Let us get inside before we freeze to death.”

De St Croix and all his guests who were not attempting to change Janus’ mind were standing around the table where he had spread out a large map. They were in the midst of war plans when the doors flung wide and Jerome, Maja and Jack walked in with Janus leading the charge. He stomped up to the table and stood opposite the Count, throwing down his bag and leaning on the table.

“Where exactly is the Snow Queen’s fortress?”

The Count, to his credit, hid his victory smile well as he held his hand out for Marjellan to put a map into his hand and they spread it out onto the table and then nearly a dozen heads leaned over to stare at its sketchy details.

“The Snow Queen’s army’s base is ‘ere, at this village that is ‘alf way up the slope of the mountain that the fortress is on.” De St Croix explained. “In summer ‘er forces rally there and regroup but currently, because it is winter and she ‘as the advantage, it is all but deserted. ‘owever there are still patrols in that area.”

“You need to take this ravine.” Marjellan interjected. “It skirts around the base of the mountain and fades out here.” He jabbed the map with his thick finger. “The Queen doesn’t utilize it because to get an army through it would take months and months, it is so narrow.”

“And for that reason as well she does not fear us using it to attack ‘er.” The Count added.

“Ravines are great places for ambushes.” Janus muttered.

“I didn’t say she doesn’t guard it. I said she doesn’t march an army through there.” Marjellan grunted. “Where the ravine ends there is a difficult climb up the side of the mountain to this outcrop which is above the village. There are no guards between the village and the fortress.”

“You mean none that you ever saw.” Janus argued.

“No. I mean there are no guards, no soldiers, no scouts or spies…nothing. I walked into the fortress without being stopped or questioned or even seen.”

Janus straightened up. “Wait…the Snow Queen has managed to find the only thing that can kill her and instead of killing it, imprisoned it in her unguarded, unprotected fortress and this information just happened to leak out to a dwarf spy in their midst? It’s a trap!”

“Well of course it’s a trap!” De St Croix’s control slipped and his anger ripped through into his voice. Janus was surprised, as was everyone else, as the explosion and Giselle, who was ever present at her husband’s shoulder, laid her hand on his back. Her touch had a calming effect on the Count and he cleared his throat, restraining his temper. “Ahem…of course it is a trap. But is a trap still a trap if we know that there is a trap?” He looked around and waited for someone to speak. When no one contradicted him he continued. “What we need to do is send two or three men into the mountains as a diversion while Janus and one other…”

“Me!” Jack blurted and then blushed when everyone looked at him.

De St Croix gave him a slightly condescending nod. “Perhaps someone with a little more battle experience.”

“That would be me.” Jerome spoke up. “Monster hunter, beast killer and all that.”

The Count nodded. “I agree. I ‘ave several other soldiers who match Sir Janus’ physical description who will be the diversion.”

“Why do they need to look like me?” Janus asked. De St Croix gazed at him with a wry look on his face and Janus felt like he was the butt of some great joke.

“Because this summit was not about war plans or even the hidden weapon that the Snow Queen keeps in ‘er fortress which can defeat ‘er. This meeting was about you, Prince Evander, and your relationship with the she-elf Jé Kinah.” He spread his arm wide to encompass the people gathered who, for the most part, seemed as taken aback as Janus was. “Everyone gathered was a part of ‘er story as well as yours. It took years to piece together the stories and whittle fact from fiction but it was all to this end and the end of the Snow Queen,” the Count stared at Janus, “and if I can make these connections, so too could ze Snow Queen. She could be using this information to draw you out and kill you so that Jé Kinah stays where she is. We cannot take the risk that she does not know what you look like and so, we prepare for the worst.”

Janus’ mouth was a firm line. “I feel like a pawn.” He grumbled. “So, Jerome and I head into the ravine while decoys head up the mountain. I get through the ice maze and somehow free Jé Kinah and she saves the day. Is that it?”

“Pretty much.”

“And what will you be doing? Sipping wine and waiting for spring?”

“I will be leading a single, collected front against the Snow Queen at the base of the mountain ranges.” The Count replied.

“That will take months to orchestrate!” Niccolo argued. “Maja’s people are in the far east not to mention the rest of the regiments scattered across this continent!”

“I sent out orders months ago.” De St Croix replied. “The troops will be gathering, drawing the Snow Queen’s forces into one location.” He pointed at the map where the rolling pastureland turned into the hills at the base of the mountains. “We will gather ‘ere and ‘ere we will make our last stand.”

“All without prior approval.” Niccolo grumbled. “You cannot keep doing this Dominique.”

“If I fail then I will accept whatever consequences there may be.” De St Croix explained. “Even if we win, I will bear the weight of my decisions. But now is not the time to argue about whether an order was ratified in parliament. Now is the time to march on the mountains…and draw the Snow Queen out. That way when she is destroyed, ‘er entire army will see it and we will finally ‘ave an end to this war.”

His voice filled the room and with it came a stirring, a warmth that started from the inside out. It was hope rekindled and it flickered, waiting to see if it would be fanned into a flame. It would only take a small discouragement for it to be snuffed out.

“Well, Prince Evander and Sir Janus…” De St Croix looked at him firmly. “What say you?”

Janus looked down at the map then up around at the people gathered there. He felt the weight of responsibility but also the tremor of hope within his own soul. Would he take hold of it again and risk even greater injury or would be run and hide as he had been doing for the last ten years?

He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at the Count. “We leave at dawn.”

And in that instant the tiny flicker of hope was stoked into a flame.

Fourteen days later the icy ravine of the mountains rang out with the sound of steel against steel. A Minotaur, a goblin and a host of the stitched eye beasties had swarmed Janus, Jerome and their tag along Jack with little more warning than a loose stone from high above. Jerome made sure the Minotaur’s attention was on him and made a path for Janus to sprint for the far end of the ravine. It had been their plan all along that, should they be caught by a patrol, Jerome and Jack would draw them off while Janus kept going.

Despite this being their prearranged plan, Janus fought against the instinct to turn around and help the two men that chosen to stand by him in this foolhardy endeavour. He ran hard and fast, putting distance between himself and the battle and, when he could hardly stand for heaving, he found himself at the end of ravine. It was just going dark so Janus decided to wait until morning and hunkered down in a crevice. Because the ravine was deep, the wind didn’t make it inside and the snow skittered past, leaving the stony path clear. It was cold but it was dry and there was no wind so he spent a shivery night, cursing the long winter night and waiting for the weak dawn to appear.

It had been a long, frantic slog to the ravine. While it was all well enough to say they had to climb the Snow Queen’s mountain, that statement didn’t take into account the land before the mountain, the hills that became taller and angrier as they drew closer and closer and finally the four feet deep snow drifts that he, Jerome and Jack had had to wade through.

Janus grinned to himself.

He and Jerome had left without fanfare at dawn from the chateau and they thought, for at least the first few hours, that they had been successful in avoiding attention. But it wasn’t long before they caught Jack following them, determined to stand by his knight and master. After a brief reprimand they allowed him to stay. And to his credit he never complained once. Not when they had to crawl on their bellies beneath bushes to avoid a troll patrol or when he disappeared into snow and had to dig himself out. Even when the ambush occurred and Jerome yelled at Janus to get out of there, Jack stood with a blunt sword and swung wildly at the enemy.

Janus hoped they had gotten out of the ravine alive and intact.

He couldn’t go back for them. The only way he could help was to scale an almost vertical wall of rock to a point where he was beyond the village that the enemy encamped at, march into the fortress of the Snow Queen and rescue the fair maiden who was imprisoned within with true love’s kiss.

Janus winced in the dark.

He hadn’t been able to kindle a single spark of affection for her. The deep feelings of respect, love and passion had been chewed away for so long there was nothing left. His day dreams of her face and fantasies of rescuing her from some dreaded evil had been doused in the acid of bitter maturity and he burned internally at the immaturity of it all. As if she, the last elf on earth, would have wanted anything to do with him, a lowly flawed human. She had made that plain when they had last spoken and though the wounds of her words were a decade old, they were still raw and bleeding.

Evander had not thought there was any reason for it other than her contempt. His hate became as strong as his love had been and he painted her with darkness and selfishness, justifying nursing his wounded pride by convincing himself that she was no better than a harpy that was driven to consume a man’s soul.

Even now he struggled to believe that the stories of her transformation were true. There was no evidence of it when he had seen her. She was pure elf. There was nothing vile or deformed about her.

She had attended a royal ball in a gown of pale blue that glistened as she walked, her white gold hair soft around her slender shoulders…

Janus shook his head and gritted his teeth…then forced himself to relax.

He had trained his heart to hate her. Ten years of anger and bitterness would not be overturned in just a few days or because he was told that he had to…because the survival of man was at stake. Habits were hard to break. And he had no redeeming virtue to recall. Nothing to endear her to him. It would not matter how pitiful her story was or even if it turned out that she was somehow a victim in a terrible tragedy. His heart was as hard as the stone he sat upon and his love for her had long since turned to ice.

With every painstaking inch he climbed up the cliff face, he imagined her face and grimaced.

With every stab of his climbing picks into the rock he cursed her name.

Every time his foot slipped and he dangled precariously high above a fatal fall, he burned with anger so that by the time he reached the outcrop, he felt as dark and as evil as the creatures he fought against.

Far above sea level, above the fighting and the unnatural winter, it was strangely beautiful. The sky above the thick grey clouds that swirled below was bright blue and the sun shone happily as though ignorant that most of the earth had barely been touched by its glory in years. The light glanced off the snow that was pure white and sparkled as he trudged through it, climbing ever higher and higher until at last he dragged himself up onto a ledge and found he had arrived at the Snow Queen’s fortress.