Novel

The Secret of Blackneck

Chapter One

The Snowstorm

Not a single inch of land was left untouched by the merciless edge of winter's icy sword in the dismal town of Blackneck. It was a frozen bitter night, the kind of which was so cold that just mere memories of it would send a stinging shiver down your spine on even the hottest day of summer. Whether it be small shivering children huddled around a measly fireplace with chattering teeth, or farm animals struggling in vain to burrow deeper under their frosted hay, the cold left its mark everywhere. Making their faces red and their bodies numb, it conquered them all.

This siege was nothing new to the inhabitants of Blackneck; actually, it was quite far from it! Every year, for over a hundred years, the same bitter cold swept across their town, barring them up in its endless sheets of ice.

“It's a curse!” some of the elders would croak to the children of the town.

“It's the dark king of ice...” the peasants would whisper to each other.

“It's this stinkin' piece of land we're stuck on!” the farmers would shout in rage.

Whatever it was remained a mystery to them... Nevertheless, there was one thing their frantic brains could agree on; it had to be stopped at all costs! Throughout the years the members of the town had made many attempts to survive the cold's wrath. They sent out search missions for, “the King of Ice”, they had tried looking for new land to settle on and they had tried chopping up and storing enough wood for fire. Some had even become so desperate as to simply plead at the cold to go away! Yet, no matter how they approached the problem, their efforts always ended in vain. Nobody returned from the search missions, the wood all rotted, no safe haven was to be found… and as for those that asked for the wind to go away? For them, the situation only became all the bleaker, as they swore that the wind laughed and knocked them off their feet!

The situation of Blackneck was dire, to say the least. What hope did this weak town really have against this ghastly force of nature? The rickety wooden walls that encased them were as meagre as a blade of grass, in the sight of the raging wind! Their homes were falling apart like stacks of cards! And their men? Bah! Only the greatest of fools could have faith in the strength of their feeble frames!

No, only the greatest of knights could have liberated the town, and there was certainly no chance of them ever coming by one. To the misfortune of Blackneck, a knight is hard to come by; you can’t simply breed one in a stable. The grand palaces and kingdoms that knights were raised in were leagues away. Many of the townspeople had strained everything in them to find one, but they only chased after wind…

Yet, what if I told you that the great hero, the knight of Blackneck, could have been a simple boy? Wait, scratch that, maybe not a simple boy… Rather, he’s a miserable sack of bones and rags that dwells, not in a castle, but a shack. And maybe-- maybe he isn’t exactly the noble type… The other day he was caught stealing eggs from the widow’s frozen chicken coop. And I believe, if my memory isn’t failing me, that he stole firewood from the lumber mill the week prior. And he’s certainly not one to look at, with his grubby face and a mess of hair... Why, he really isn’t any sort of knight at all. He’smore of a wretched coward than anything! Yet, what if I told you that he was the one to save this pitiful town from their icy doom?

Of course, one should know better than to put their trust in such a scoundrel. In fact, that was his very name! The townspeople knew little about the boy, save the hole he lived in and the many crimes he’d committed. So, it came to be that they simply called the boy by what he was: a filthy lying scoundrel and nothing more! One should suspect that only a mess could come out of such a character. And they’d be right! This wretch was certainly in no business of being a hero, as it should be. I’d fear for the fate of the townsfolk if it was otherwise! It’s only fitting that his story should begin with a mess, and it does…

It happened upon that cold night, whilst Scoundrel was sleeping soundly in his shack, tucked in a wool blanket he’d stolen the day prior. One might wonder how he could have slept so peacefully within the raging storm, and I believe it was because of the warm milk he stole and drank before bed. He would have continued to sleep too, if it hadn’t been for a loud bang, followed by the crack and snap of splintering wood at his door.

“Come outta yer’ filthy hole ya’ blasted Scoundrel!” a husky voice cried.

Scoundrel snapped awake with a jump. Quickly, clutching his blanket he jerked his head scanning his room. Yet, just as quick as they had opened, his eyes began to shut, seeing nothing besides the mounds of his hoard.

The voice then let out another roar of anger followed by a mighty crash, just before Scoundrel could fall asleep. Finally, Scoundrel heeded the warning, jumping to his feet.

“That’s it, we’ve given ye’ enough time! Boys, it’s time we goes chopping this ‘ere shack down!” the voice pounded, shaking the whole house.

Scoundrel instantly recognized the voice; it was a lumberjack! Those bumbling fools! They’d come to collect the firewood he’d stolen! Scoundrel certainly had issues with people he’d stolen from, but never to this extent. A revolt was the last thing he’d expected.

“Nobody breaks into me house and gets away with it!” Scoundrel whispered to himself with a greedy gleam in his eye, “Me wonders what I could do with a lumberjack’s axe!”

Quickly, Scoundrel snatched up a stick he always carried with him, and charged towards his busted door. However, what he found was much more than his fragile body could take: five tall burly men, armed with axes.

One of the men looked down at him with a smug sneer, “Ye is the one we is always puttin’ up with!? Ha! Ye is just a boy, and a scrawny one at that! Men, let’s teach this ‘ere scoundrel a lesson! Nobody messes with a lumberjack, and we is… we is… we is one!”

With a hefty swing of an arm, the lumberjack knocked Scoundrel off his feet and started tossing him about like a kitten with a ball of yarn. Scoundrel’s mind was scrambling now and his most vicious thoughts were coming into view. He couldn’t just let himself fall to their mercy so easily! Although, his thoughts were swallowed by terror when the other men joined in to trade blows of their own. One of them even went so far as to venture into his house to collect items from his hoard!

Not knowing the folly he was making, with a triumphant laugh, the tallest of the five lumberjacks grabbed Scoundrel around the waist! Scoundrel’s eyes lit up with a fiery spark. With a twist of his neck, he sunk his teeth hard into the forearm of his foe.

“Gah! The ‘ittle beast bit me he did!” the lumberjack yelped, dropping Scoundrel to the floor, “What are ye’ all waitin’ for, toss the ghastly creature out before he escapes!!”

Before Scoundrel could bat an eye, he was snapped up by his feet in the iron grasp of a lumberjack.

“Well, whaddya want us to do with ‘im boss?” the lumberjack said dangling Scoundrel by his feet.

A contorted yellow grin formed on the face of the tallest lumberjack, “Ye’ can throw the sack of bones at the foot of Craggleback Mountain, east of town. And make sure to tie the ‘ittle blighter to a tree so he doesn’t escape, the wolves will appreciate the treat. In the meantime, I is gonna collect the piles of firewood the wretch stole from us; the townsfolk will be needing it.”

Just like that, before you could light a match, the lumberjack heeded their orders. Tying Scoundrel’s wrists and ankles, so he couldn’t escape, two of the burly men ambled swiftly towards the looming shadow of Craggleback Mountain, into the swirling blizzard.

Chapter Two

Into the Mountain

Now, in the town of Blackneck, like any town, there was only a handful of things that could make the people jump out of their skin. Of these few things was Craggleback Mountain… To a weary stranger, knowing nothing of the town, Craggleback Mountain didn’t seem to hold any features that were particularly hostile, in fact, it may even have looked welcoming. Its handsome coat of snow that covered it, its spectacular glow in the sunrise, and the many luscious emerald trees that speckled its surface didn’t exactly scream deadly. However, the folk of Blackneck knew better. The Craggleback Mountain was the very essence of death in the form of mounded rock. Many a traveler went up it, but not once had one ever come down. The few with the wisdom to leave journals behind told this and one thing only: to attempt to conquer its summit is to attempt death. Plagued by an abundance of blizzards, avalanches and monsters of the foulest breed, Craggleback Mountain was a force of nature not to be meddled with. Some even claimed that the dark Ice King himself lived within the heart of it.

So, as one might expect, when the Lumberjacks approached the foot of the mountain, they meant to finish their work as fast as they could. With anxious movements, and heaviness upon their brows, they took caution to avoid all shadows and forms of darkness that lay ahead of them. They couldn’t risk to become lost, not on the foot of Craggleback Mountain! No! Nothing is worse than being lost on Craggleback Mountain!

As the men suffered, huffing and puffing while they carried themselves further up the tower of ice and snow, Scoundrel chuckled to himself, bundled in the unyielding grip of the men’s arms. The ropes coiled around him had been tied tightly, and even now they burned his wrists and his ankles. His face was in an even worse situation, with a gag in its mouth and an oily rag tied around his head like a blindfold. How could this boy laugh in the face of such pain? Well, I’ll tell you now that his laugh certainly wasn’t of the pleasant sort. It was one of the nastiest laughs your ears could hear, and, out of all the struggles the lumberjacks met in that unforgiving cold, his laugh was the worst of it (the gag in Scoundrel’s mouth may or may not have had part in it). As chained as his body was, there was nothing to contain the devious thoughts that spiraled through Scoundrel’s head and even in the midst of the adverse weather around him, he had already plotted his escape.

“Hey John, where is a blasted tree around ‘ere!? We’ve been climbing this wretched rock for hours and ‘aven’t found a bit of green!” cried the shorter of the two, struggling to see past the dense blizzard of snow that encased them.

“I don’t know Bert! ‘Ow should I know!? The snow is everywhere! And it’s not as if our wretched luggage is helping matters!” John, the taller of the two, exclaimed. However, his defeated outlook quickly changed, and, with a jerk of his head, he let out a triumphant shout, “Wait, I think I sees one! Yes, there’s a tree just up ahead! Let’s ‘urry now, we can’t spend any more time than we already ‘ave out ‘ere!”

The lumberjacks started climbing toward their destination and, as they slowly pressed on through the attacking wind, they refused to give any ground. After what felt like an hour of the stinging bite from the frigid wind against their cheeks, they finally tossed Scoundrel to the ground, with a soft thump, infront of the tree.

“It’s finally time boy that ye’ met justice for yer’ crimes!” John snickered, rubbing his palms together, “Come now Bert. Let’s unbound ‘im and tie ‘im to the tree!”

With haste, the two snatched knives out of their pockets. They then proceeded to sever the ropes around Scoundrel. As they began to work though, Scoundrel let out a muffled yell. While they tried ignoring it, Scoundrel only continued on like this, and the lumberjacks finally cracked.

Removing the oily rags and ropes around Scoundrel’s face, Bert spat at him. “What is it that ye want now!?”

Then, an astonishing thing happened in front of them. Scoundrel began to weep! Big fat tears rolled down his cheeks. His skin turned blotchy, his eyes were filled of heaviness and his limbs were quaking in fear. This had been the last thing the lumberjacks had expected! The great Scoundrel of Blackneck, the very thief that had plagued their town for so many years, had been reduced to a puddle of tears. While the two would never admit it, they felt a sort of sympathy for the poor creature.

With a sniffle and a quivering lip, Scoundrel began to speak, “Is-- is this to be me end? All me life I ‘ave pillaged and plundered the homes of those around meself’… and now, in me final hour, the treasures I’ve ‘oarded account me nothing… Yes, it all ‘as abandoned me, and now I’m to die alone at the foot of this raging storm… A cruel fate to be certain…”

“Well—well it serves ye’ right!” Bert said, his voice tremoring. If he could have been forced to explain to somebody why this was, he would have surely said it was simply because of the bitter cold. However, in truth, even if it was only for half a moment in the smallest part of his heart, he actually pitied Scoundrel.

Scoundrel started to sob again, “Ye couldn’t be more right! I’ve backstabbed, hoodwinked, and fooled every livin’ soul I’ve ever met! No not just the livin’! Even the graves of the men that ‘ave passed ‘ave ‘ad no mercy from me greedy hand!”

“A bit late to make a change of heart I’m afraid!” scoffed John through the piercing wind.

“Yes, nothin’ could be truer,” sniffled Scoundrel, as his tears froze in the cold weather, “Yet, to even ‘ave the comfort of knowing somebody was beside me at my deathbed would take a great weight off my soul…”

“You can take comfort from the wolves!” John barked, “We ain’t staying up ‘ere any longer, me footsies are already freezing to the ground! Come on Bert, let’s tie ‘em to the tree, there’s no trusting ‘im!”

But Bert dropped his knife into the snow. “Me thinks that maybe we could set up camp out ‘ere tonight... I know that the lil’ wretch don’t deserve nothin’, but boss never said when we needs to come back…”

“We can’t just sets up camp ‘ere!” John cried indignantly

“Well, maybe we could just chops down part of the tree for a wee fire… and we brought our campin’ gear with us… Think about it John, we doesn’t have much chances makin’ it back in this cold anyhow! It’s already pitch black out ‘ere! I says we just call it a night!”

At this point, John had already tied Scoundrel to the tree. In a rush of force, a powerful gust of a strangely warm wind suddenly hit, leaving John staggering for his balance. He then fell toward the wintry powder below with an ungraceful thump, like a hippo flopping into a pond. Catching a face full of snow, his face began to burn and he felt as though it was frozen to the ground. As he struggled putting himself back on his feet again, his lips turned a sickly color of blue and his teeth started to chatter. He finally relented, “F—ffff-- fine… W-- we can just call it a night. This way we can keep an eye on the ol’ Scoundrel too. I’ll sees to it that the wolves get to ‘im.”

The lumberjacks wasted no time in setting up their camp. Nor would have you or me if we had been put under such circumstances. The lumberjacks couldn’t stand the thought of being in that frigid weather any longer than they had to, it had already begun to take its toll on them (particularly John). With haste they chopped off the top half of Scoundrel’s tree and split it into blocks of firewood. Theirhacking left Scoundrel, who remained tied to the tree all the while, with splinters in his face. Yet they paid no notice to this. The only thought on their minds now was one thing and one thing only: warmth. After an hour’s worth of work, the two lumberjacks had set up their camp and fire. Once they’d settled into their tents, they fell soundly asleep within the bat of an eye.

However, while the two slept peaceful dreams near the warmth of the fire, there was one that was still awake… Scoundrel. Out alone in the howling of the wind he stood tied to half a tree. At least he thought it was the wind, but it could just as easily have been the wolves…

While the grim possibility of this might have made any normal person curl up in horror, Scoundrel’s mind was quite busy with something else. Yes, once again, Scoundrel’s face lit up with a smug smile and he let out a haughty chuckle. Within a mere minute, the boy who had been bound was now free. The icy ropes fell to his feet, and he was relieved of the stiffness the brittle tree against his back.

Now, you may be wondering, how did Scoundrel pull off this miraculous feat!? He had just been bound, tied up, he was even whimpering in fear of his fate! If only you had been told even a few of the tales of this young hooligan Scoundrel, you would have an idea how… He was a devilishly clever creature, with the wits of which no other could match. It happened that he had actually planned the whole ordeal from start to finish, it was all simply been a show. And when Bert had dropped his knife to the ground, Scoundrel snatched the opportunity, stealing it out of the snow. Once he had the knife in his possession, he only had to wait for his chance at freedom.

With himself freed, Scoundrel went on to carry out the rest of his plan. Quietly and nimbly climbing into each tent Scoundrel plundered their goods while they slept. He took their lamps, their food, their maps, their tools… Nothing was missed, and nothing was spared, all of it being tucked away in a satchel he bore. While one would think that the lumberjacks would have been awoken by the presence of Scoundrel, with the raging noise of the wind against their tents, there was nothing that could awake them from their sleep.

After everything of the lumberjacks had been stolen and slung over his back, Scoundrel left the campgrounds in search of a shelter for himself. He started out traveling downwards towards the foot of the mountain in hopes of finding his way back into town of Blackneck that night. Keeping his lantern high above his face to shield himself from the blast of the intense wintry air, he descended the rocky terrain with great caution. A few times he lost his footing and found himself sliding down on his backside (which was only a small punishment for what he had done to the lumberjacks). Yet, after a while, a dour truth dawned over Scoundrel.

Because of his scuffle with the lumberjacks, his presence within the town would never be welcomed again. Scoundrel had dealt with mobs before, but never in the winter, and never in such a desperate time as the town was in now. He would surely be hung, they would stand for him no longer. No, Scoundrel could not return to Blackneck! He would have to find some other shelter, some other safe haven from this cold. He began to rack his brain for ideas, but, even in his clever mind, he found that all of his hopes of survival were futile. There was nowhere in the mountain for him to hide. He had no way to build himself a shelter that could sustain him in the conditions that surrounded him. He was doomed!

As he stood there in the snow fretting over this, a wind rushed past him with a surging force like none he had ever felt before. Its touch was warm, and when he felt it against his skin, he thought that he might have been floating on a cloud. Yet it also had a strength so powerful that it knocked him off his feet and into the cold snow. The contents of his sack began spilling out and were carried away in the current of that strange wind. With a leap from the ground, Scoundrel quickly ran after them, for one of the items was one that he could not afford to lose; this item happened to be his map. The map continued to flutter higher and higher into the wind, and as Scoundrel looked after it he watched it cover nearly the whole tip of the mountain from view. It was at that tip where Scoundrel saw something that made his tracks stop short and his eyes light up in a rapacious glint. It was an enormous block of ice jutting out from the tip of the mountain. Yet, this block of ice was like no other. To Scoundrel it looked to be afortress or a palace. With a tall spire of ice sprouting out from its tip, blankets of snow cloaking it in a majestic glow, and a spiral of ice flowing out of its side, Scoundrel was convinced that it could be nothing but one.

Even after another heavy wind blew through, curtaining the view of the ice fortress with a cloud of snow, the vision of its magnificence remained in Scoundrel’s head. As an infant, long ago, Scoundrel could remember being told grand tales of the ice palace that stood looming high in the radiating glory of the Craggleback Mountain. He’d once heard that the Ice King himself made his home there. These were, of course, simple nursery rhymes he had been told as a young lad. They were nothing but whimsical lies that were merely reserved for the most gullible children. However, Scoundrel couldn’t deny that he once longed with all his heart to walk within its icy halls and to stare with awe at the overwhelming beauty of the treasures that were said to have been piled within them. And now, the very thing that reigned the dreams of his youth stood before him. It had become a reality!

An idea popped into his head that set him into a frenzy of excitement. He would plunder the riches of the ice castle! There was nothing that smelled sweeter to his mind than this! Surely the castle was abandoned, the Ice King was but an old wives tale. And nobody else had ever dared to tread this mountain before, nor would anybody ever dare tread it in ages to come. The castle was for the taking! With all these thoughts combined in his head, a nasty smile spread across his face… He might have lost his place as the king of Blackneck, but now? Now he was going to be king of the mountain! Scoundrel let out a sigh of fulfillment, and ran off to gather the items that remained scattered across the ground. It was a shame that his map was long gone by now, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t be needing it where he was going… Scoundrel was going to climb the mountain.

The journey up the mountain was not an easy one, to say the least. The harder Scoundrel pressed on upwards, the harder he felt the storm oppose him. The night turned to day but Scoundrel still found himself fighting furiously to reach even halfway up the mountain and the storm remained unrelenting.

At times he felt that his mission was hopeless, but he drove those uncertainties away with visions of the magnificent riches that laid waiting for him. Even with his energy draining, those thoughts-- those oh so powerful thoughts!—they’d give him bursts of strength that would fling him further into his trek than before. Nothing could stop Scoundrel, not snow, nor an avalanche, nor even death itself. The greedy will within his eyes was enough to take on anything he encountered. All things that could oppose him already sat under his thumb. His slick mind, his nimble fingers, and his sharp tongue surpassed all; what could even dare stand against it?

So, Scoundrel carried on like this, agilely weaving himself up the mountain. No aching pain in his body, no hunger in his stomach, and no weariness in his bones hindered him. He overcame all the adverse forces of nature before reaching the pinnacle of the mountain. And heDIDreach the top of that mountain, no matter what the people of Blackneck that came after him will say. Some might deny that there’s any truth in this story, while others will only laugh it off as a tall tale. But I tell you now, no matter what any person says, Scoundrel reached and stood before the ice castle, and the events that came before and after this moment stand true.

Yes, after vast amounts of painstaking labor and the use of an iron will like no other, Scoundrel found himself crossing the frozen lake that encased the grand ice palace. It was a tricky task, and he found himself sliding onto his back a few times. Although, he managed to cross the lake without falling through (the frigid weather had ensured it was solid enough to withstand the weight of an elephant) and soon enough, he was standing at the foot of the ice castle in the peak of the mountain. The sight he saw was a glorious wonder, a wonder that no man will ever again, nor had ever before, managed the honor of viewing. Scoundrel was the only living being that had ever managed to reach that point in the mountain, and the only being to ever marvel at the fullness of its splendor.

You might now be wondering, “How is it then that such a castle was built? For, if it was not by the force of a man, nor any other living creature, what force was it done by?”

The answer to the question you seek is one that would be better left unanswered. For, as the answer to all the world’s towering mysteries, it is to be discovered by the labor of the one most deserving of it…

Upon the foot of the castle, shrouded in a mist of mystery and frost, Scoundrel limbs shook, awestruck, as he gazed upon it with reverence. Its beauty was overwhelming. The walls, forming into the shape of a hexagon, were built out of the purest of white snow packed and mounded upon a crystal clear ice glazed over the surface of the lake. The roof of the fortress was a brilliant dome crafted out of a cold blue crystal, and out if its center protruded the unmistakable spire he had viewed what seemed like so long ago. In the light of the sun, radiant rays of light spilled out from every angle of the structure and into the snow, leaving the ground sparkling and glittering like a white rainbow.

Staring at this all, he found himself tripping over the spiraling translucent staircase that led into the wide door of the castle. What a lustrous door it was too! Ornamented in elaborate designs and delicate markings, Scoundrel couldn’t help but muse how anybody could have possibly designed it without shattering the fragile structure.

As he was wondering this, the door suddenly swung wide open revealing a large crystal hall full of mounded treasures. Their sparkling features set the passageway, as well as Scoundrel’s eyes, aglow with an exquisite white light. After making a gradual ingress into the room Scoundrel gazed upon the riches’ majesty and began strategizing how he would spend such an opulent wealth. It was then that he noticed they were unlike the ordinary gold and jewels he had seen traded amongst the villagers in the markets of Blackneck. Scooping a gem up and clutching it tightly against his heart he felt it singe his skin with a chilling cold. The gems were made of ice... Or at least something like it… While the gem was cold, it didn’t melt in his hand like an icicle would have... To make sure it was a true gem, Scoundrel scratched at its flawless surface. To his astonishment, not a blemish was made and his thumb slipped off its smooth surface.

The thief was befuddled now. How was it so cold? It certainly wasn’t the room, the room wasn’t cold at all!

“Wait…” Scoundrel said slowly to himself, “How is it that this room, made of ice, is warm?”

He pondered at this with great unease. It simply wasn’t right. In his distress, the greedy boy found himself grasping the gem he held ever tighter against his chest. He found that this relaxed his worried thoughts and gave him comfort.

Perhaps his senses were just fooling him. The journey to the castle had probably taken a large toll on his body. How foolish of him to think there was anything wrong! He just needed a little food and maybe a nap and he’d be fine to complete the survey of the castle later.

Scoundrel emptied his sack, preparing himself a little food and a sleeping situation. He finished the food rather quickly, gobbling down every morsel. He didn’t stop, except for when he felt a rush of wind and an eerie creak from down the hall. His stomach turned, and he jerked his head down the dark passageways. It had just been his nerves playing tricks on him! There was nothing to be seen, so he returned his meal. Once he’d finished, he curled up on his blanket for a long sleep, with his gem snugly tucked into his chest.

Chapter Three

Scaling the Summit

Scoundrel had slept for a long while when he awoke to an awful noise resounding amongst the imposing walls. His eyes popping wide open, Scoundrel disquieted in the uneasy prospect that the lumberjacks might have found him. However, once he’d listened closer, he realized the sound was nothing like what he’d heard before. It was a howling noise, like a hefty gale and also roared furiously like a great waterfall. Scoundrel didn’t know what to think, but he knew right then that he wasn’t alone. The shock of the noise left him immobile and his joints were as stiff as stone. Then he heard a thunderclap that startled him to the point that he collapsed upon the floor. With apprehension welling up inside himself he tautly clenched his jewel to his chest, and, lifting an axe he had stolen from the lumberjacks out of his sack, he proceeded to search out the sound.

While Scoundrel walked through the castle, he began to fear that perhaps it was occupied after all. What a great mess he had put himself in! He was in such a fright that he swung his axe about like a fool at every turn. His axe smashing into the walls and breaking delicate crystal décor, he created a raucous even louder than the noise he was afraid of. It was when he came to the realization of his foolishness that he finally calmed himself down.

“It’s just the snowstorm that you’re hearing,” he told himself, “A gust of wind never hurt anyone!”

However, soon he’d find out just how right and wrong he was.

He began to realize that, in his search for the sound, he was carrying himself deeper and deeper into the heart of the palace; much deeper than he felt comfortable. He started to regret leaving his packs behind, as he now wondered if he’d ever be able to find his way back. These shadows of doubt passed though, as Scoundrel was confident that nothing as simple as a maze of halls could phase him. He had just conquered a mountain! What worse could this fragile icy framework give him?!

A chilling wind suddenly whistled through the hall in an abrupt wail, and tingling fear paled every inch of his body. With sweaty palms, Scoundrel’s grip on his jewel started to loosen. He clenched his fists to keep his hold; he couldn’t let himself lose it. A belief that the jewel was a sort of good luck charm, something that could keep him safe, had taken anchor in Scoundrel’s mind. While it may have been that his safety wouldn’t have changed much whether he kept the jewel or not (in fact, a free hand might have been more than helpful in his condition), he felt that he couldn’t part with it without losing a part of himself. The feeling of the slick cold stone against his body grown to be one of comfort for him. The rock seemed to give him a sense of direction, and he felt that it was guiding him closer toward the sound. While it was all probably more than a hoax that he had created for himself, it was perhaps his only sense of a companion in the desolate castle.

The feet of Scoundrel reluctantly treaded ever further inward as the rupturing noise grew louder. Feeling the rush of the wind mercilessly surge past his face, he was forced to shut his eyes tightly while a vicious ringing filled his ears. Scoundrel wanted to fall on his knees screaming in pain, but he knew that doing such was an act of cowardice. He slowed into a crawl through a cavernous mouth, leading into an open room. Strangely, the moment he entered he noticed that the raucous stopped with a shocking suddenness.

For a moment, the thief was puzzled, but he shoved away all his concerns to explore his new surroundings. The room was very expansive, having the combined space of maybe twenty of the largest shacks built in Blackneck. Bordering the sparkling crystal pathway that Scoundrel was trudging along, thick walls were built on each side. But up ahead, Scoundrel observed that there was no wall, and he saw a great cliff leading into an abyss. Scoundrel shuddered at the thought of falling into it. Looking up, Scoundrel noticed an enormous dome was hollowed into the ceiling, letting the warm red light of the setting sun dance into the room.

Scoundrel was mesmerized. “Beautiful,” he tried to say, the word almost leaping from his lips. Butjust as he opened his mouth, he was flung to the floor by a ferocious blast of air.

It was during this moment, with the surging whisk returning to reverberate through his soul, when an overpowering voice invaded Scoundrel’s very being. It chilled him to the bone, and he felt it suck the very warmth from his body.

“Fall to the GROUND!” the voice cried, shaking the whole room, “and LOOK upon me, for a KING deserves RESPECT!”

With a force of monstrous strength, Scoundrel felt himself being flattened against the frigid floor. Yet in spite of all the violence, Scoundrel still managed to clutch his gem tightly to his chest. Except now, with his frail body pressed to the floor, he could feel the cold stone digging into his skin. With his eyes bulging wide open, Scoundrel began to behold the being that had overtaken him.

There was a foreboding head taking its form in the center of the room, from a cyclone of ice and snow. Ghastly features covered it; large piercing eyes, and a gaping mouth filled of protruding icicle fangs. Atop this unearthly visage was a crown of ice and snow, with a rigid star-shaped gem placed in the center. But as Scoundrel looked closer upon this gem he realized something; it was not a gem but a man. Yet, to call it a man wouldn’t even begin to describe the fullness of its eerie form.

Instead of having flesh on his body, the figure was covered in a dark icy blue layer that looked as slick as porcelain. It was flawless, besides a strange eerie black stain on his neck that stood out like a wrinkled prune. If you had seen it, you might have said it looked almost like skin. But, it was not skin, Scoundrel was certain of that. It was horrid to look at, yet it still had a strange lure that made it so that Scoundrel struggled to take his eyes from it. What was the story behind this scar? He had to know!

Scoundrel forced himself to shift his focus back to the figure. On it, there was nothing save for two vacant coal black eyes that looked down on Scoundrel, boring holes through his skull. It didn’t even have clothes, unless you would count the chunks of ice lodged into its body, from the blizzard around it.

With his limbs outstretched like a star, he kept his gaze upon Scoundrel with his piercing empty eyes. They never moved, nor flinched. They simply stared down… They almost looked unforgiving, but as Scoundrel was forced to keep contact with them, chilling him to the bone, they showed no emotion. None at all. However, they didn’t exactly lack emotion either. As Scoundrel looked deep into the strange man’s cold barren eyes (and how cold they were) he thought he saw pain, a pain of an eternity in the cold. Yet, Scoundrel watched it seem to pass just as quickly as he noticed it, like dust in the wind. He felt that what he saw could have just as easily been rage, or malice, or nothing at all.

Yes, nothing at all was what he felt he saw the most. He was a both strange and sorry sight, this man of ice. While Scoundrel continued to stare at him and the creature stared back, he felt a part in himself open that he hadn’t felt in ages. He felt a bit of sympathy for this thing that looked as though it couldn’t feel, couldn’t touch. The thought of never being able to feel emotion was a thing beyond what Scoundrel could bear.

Scoundrel quickly buried these thoughts back within himself though, there was too much to worry about. Even now, the blizzard had begun picking up speed and Scoundrel could feel himself being throttled and jolted through the air. Studying the blizzard as rapid as he could, he became aware that the storm was coming out of the very man himself. Out of the ice man’s hands the storm raged wildly, and Scoundrel watched it fill the room.

He couldn’t withhold his curiosity and puzzlement any longer, “Who are you!?” Scoundrel cried in a weak voice, as he was flung about the room in the wind. This wasn’t at all the approach Scoundrel had intended to take, but in the conditions that surrounded him, there was little he could control.

In an instant, Scoundrel found that the wind had stilled, and he was now almost within it. “Who am I?” the wind repeated softly and sharply as it ran through his ears, “I, the great king of legend, that has plagued your town for ages, have revealed myself to you in all my might and glory… and you ask me this… WHO AM I!? I am the great ICE KING! I am the ruler of the storm! I am the great quencher of the heat! I am the mighty emperor of the mountain! ALL forms of ice, snow, cold and wind are subjectto ME!” the wind paused for a moment, “Now it is MY turn to ask the question… who are YOU and by what right do you stand before me!? I have watched you as you climbed my mountain, broke into my halls and stole my treasures, the treasures of the KING!”

At each sentence of the blizzard’s rage, Scoundrel was lifted and thrown to the ground with an awful thwack. He was now quaking in exhaustion. “My name is Sc-- Scoundrel. I have come to your palace by the authority of none but my own. I now humbly beg of your mercy and wish to part ways with your forgiveness.”

“Scoundrel!?” the wind cried with a laugh, “Your name isScoundreland you wish for my MERCY!? I would ask how you came to earn that name of yours, yet I already know… I’ve watched your journey to my fortress, and your treachery against your own people. Where was MERCY when you left the lumberjacks wandering alone in my mountains!? Where was FORGIVENESS?! Perhaps your actions down below were innocent, but now you come and disturbMYriches!? You have earned yourself a punishment beyond death!”

“Wha—What are you going to do!?”

“What will I do!? Your soul is to be frozen for eternity! Your greed has become your doom, oh great Scoundrel! You will be ensnared within the crystal you hold against your chest for ages to come! Prepare to be bound to a curse of endless cold and suffering! It will remain part of you until the world itself meets its end!”

“No! This can’t be my fate! There must be a chance of mercy! I was unaware of your presence within your castle, I swear from the bottom of my heart!”

“Your actions tell me otherwise and the bottom of your empty heart is pitch black! None that live in Blackneck are raised without knowledge of me!”

“But there must be a bit of sympathy within your heart!”

“Ha! That’s the truth of it boy! It has taken me an eternity of the cold to learn that, in this world, there isNOsympathy! Now, it is time that you faced your doom!” With that, a bitter air began to fill the room and Scoundrel felt the crystal he held grow cold and begin to sting at his chest

“There has to be another way!!” Scoundrel screamed shrilly, while a vortex of snow and ice began to encase him.

“Give me ONE reason for mercy!” the wind hissed as it whirled around him, “One reason that you should be spared!”

It was then that Scoundrel’s thoughts returned to eyes of the Ice King, and the empty pain he saw within them. “Love!” Scoundrel burst out.

The wind stilled and the face of the blizzard fell.

“Love?” The voice of the wind said in a strident whisper, “And what is this love...?” The wind sat quiet for a moment, almost as if to try and answer the question itself. “I doubt that you even know! Love is the greatest lie to man! It is the very reason that fools flood the earth. It is the reason people cast themselves into wars, fall into famine, and lose their identity. Why should I spare you for a force as corrosive as love?”

For a moment, Scoundrel was stunned. Yet, suddenly, he began to feel a part in himself hatch open that he’d never felt before. “Love is a truth greater than anything else your cold eyes shall ever see.”

“You babble tales told to infants! The love you speak of exists only in the realm of imagination. On this cold barren earth, there is no place for a bliss as sweet as that, and chasing after such a thing is the very essence of destruction... Where is love in your empty shack in the town you call Blackneck? My winds have passed by it, year after year, always finding it empty, save one soul that lives within it… Your own! Where does your mother lay? Your father? You of all people should know that, in the end, love always leaves you alone in the cold…”

“I have no parents! I am the great Scoundrel, I always have been and I always will be!”

“You may have your townspeople fooled, but such lies don’t hold any power over me. Stop spouting out falsehood and step into the full realization of the truth!”

The wind once again began pressing its full strength down on Scoundrel.

“It is time Scoundrel that you finally submit!” the wind cried, “You shall be thrown into the chamber of your own heart’s greed!”

“No! I can prove to you that love exists!” Scoundrel declared frantically, “I swear, as true as my town stands, I can prove it!”

“Prove it!? PROVE IT!? You grasp at air! How can you prove a lie to be true?!”

“Give me a day, and I’ll return to you with proof! Just one day’s time is all it will take!”

Now, Scoundrel certainly had no proof of love, nor did he intend to find any. In truth, he felt that, with the prospect of being ensnared in a cage of ice for eternity, the hope of even one more day of freedom would lift a great burden off his soul.

“You wish for a day of liberation!? What foolishness this is, you simply are prolonging the inevitable! Why do you expect me to give you the pleasure of one last day of life? What gain shall be made for me by this, once you fail!?”

“You will have… you will have… You will have the satisfaction of being right!”

“Do I look to you as a dog that you should come at me with sticks!? Your offerings are pitiful!”

Scoundrel began to see that the patience of the great beast was running thin. He needed to think quickly.

“Well… You say that you believe you’re king of Blackneck correct? Well, I believe that I’m king of Blackneck! If I fail, all of Blackneck is your dominion to do whatever you wish with. If I succeed, both Blackneck, and my soul, will be free of your captivity!”

“Ha! As if Blackneck and your soul is not already mine for the taking! You crafty coward! You have nothing to support your case!”

“You call me a coward?” Scoundrel said, his mind racing, “Why, the truth is, you are the coward! You do not wish to be proven wrong, fearing that your very way of life will be shattered when you see that love is not a lie!”

The wind hushed for a twinkling.

“Bah! The great Ice King fears nothing! You couldn’t prove me wrong boy, even if you wanted to!” the wind remained still a while longer, until the great face in the blizzard broke into full rage, “Fine, your wish is granted! You will be allowed a pass, to carry out your quest. Although, you shall still remain under my captivity during its duration, and the crystal that you bare across your chest shall bind itself to your heart. There will be no escape from the watchful eye of my winds, and any attempt to do so will result in your immediate termination. If you do happen to succeed in your quest, I shall relieve you of the curse that will gnaw at your heart until the end of the day’s time. If you fail however… You and the town of Blackneck will be thrown under the spell of my ultimate wrath, never to awake from my deadly wintry touch again.”

Scoundrel was in shock! He had managed a chance at freedom! He couldn’t help but begin to feel overjoyed with this new hope that began to take fruit inside him. Yet, all his hopes were quickly dashed when he felt himself begin to be lifted high into the blizzard.

“Now be gone, and return to me at the setting of the sun tomorrow!” the blizzard cried.

Quaking in the full fury of the wind, Scoundrel then found himself flying through the windows, out of the corridors of the ice castle, and over the frozen lake; until he was flung out into the snow… and a raging avalanche…

Chapter Four

An Unsettling Encounter

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been lying in the heap of stone and snow left behind from the avalanche, but when Scoundrel awoke, he found himself tucked in a toasty blanket. How he came to be there, he didn’t know either, but as for what aroused him, it was the unmistakable sweet song of a flute. Its graceful melody danced in his ears and brought beautiful images of peace and rest to his mind. The delicate tune was a great medicine for his soul. It had been longer than Scoundrel could remember since he had last heard the sound of music, let alone music that he hadn’t stolen and to him, the flute’s voice was priceless. After laying down for a while, absorbing the calm feeling that seemed to wash over him, he began to search his surroundings. The boy’s neck ached as he scanned around, but in spite of the pain, Scoundrel managed to find that he was in a giant tent. The tent he lay in was mostly empty, save himself and the player of the flute; a funny looking man. If you would have only seen him, you’d have chuckled at the sight.

He was dressed in strange garments that looked to be rags, only they were made of a thick velvet that seemed fit for a king. Although, the garments he wore were only the half of it, for his face was an even greater spectacle. It was a unique face to be sure, and, no matter who you are, it was the sort of which you would never forget. The skin on his face was wrinkled and worn almost like the lather sole of a shoe. His features were tired and weary, yet were still strangely full of liveliness and hope. He had a sharp nipped nose and two darting eyes that poked out of his head. Jutting out of his face as a branch from a tree was his chin, which was covered in a thick red beard that nearly fell to his feet. And to say that a beard could nearly touch the feet of a man as tall as this one was is quite the tale. For, this strange flute-player had a towering figure, much taller than that of Scoundrel. Why, he was much larger than any of the men Scoundrel had ever seen in Blackneck. Sitting down even, his head touched the roof of the enormous tent. It was so high that he had to crouch down just to fit.

As Scoundrel continued to study him, he watched as the large eyes fixed in the man’s head began to stare back at him. This gave Scoundrel much unease, but the situation only became stranger. The music slowly started to stop, and the man’s face reddened and turned blotchy. Beginning to search for what was the matter, Scoundrel saw that the man had his hand pressed down over all the holes of the flute. The hermit’s face grew ever ruddier as he started to blow harder into the flute. POP! The flute shot across the tent, nearly hitting Scoundrel’s now irritated face, before landing in a corner.

Scoundrel continued to watch the old fool with an indignant scowl, when the flute-player hopped up and scrambled toward him in a frenzy. Having a worried look on his face, the hermit started rubbing his hands together wildly.

If you could have only seen the man, you would have wished to crawl out of your skin at the sight. His beard wagged around violently, his eyes were ablaze, but his lips somehow managed to remain still as stone the whole time. Any sane man would have been quick to rush out of the tent, yet Scoundrel still remained, partly out of the pain he felt, and partly out of the curiosity that consumed him.

Once the berserk bearded beanpole had finished his deranged ordeal, he then started to smear his hands across Scoundrel’s face. Scoundrel felt the grimy oil that covered the recluse’s palms start to grip his skin. At this point Scoundrel could contain his fear of the crazed man no longer and he pushed him away.

“Hey, what was that there for!?” the man shouted as his beard wagged about, “Don’t ya want to get betta’!?”

“And how is smearing your oily hands against my face supposed to make me better, you old fool!?” Scoundrel said with a huff.

“This ain’t no oil!” the man said, waving his hands in Scoundrel’s face, “It’s a special elixir I brew! It heals many an ailment it does! Now sit down nice and still-like until I’m done puttin’ it on ya!”

“Ailments?” inquired Scoundrel, “What ailments?”

The man’s eyes darted about the room quickly and he started to slow his movements with an apparent caution. “Ya took quite the tumble down the mountain in an avalanche. When I went to the remains of it, I found ye’ buried in a heap of snow, I did. To my surprise, when I took ye into me tent, ye didn’t seem to have that many injuries save a few bruises and scars… and a curious icy mark on yer chest...”

At those last words of the strange man, Scoundrel slapped his hand against his chest to find it colder than the weather that surrounded him. The ice king’s gem… It was still there! Scoundrel had only thought that all the strange events concerning the ice castle high in the mountain might have just been a passing dream, up until now…

The hermit caught the concerned look on Scoundrel’s face.

“Might I ask what ye were doin’ up there, especially with this fierce weather?” he said, raising a bushy red eyebrow.

“I—I was… I was lost…” Scoundrel stammered.

“If ye wish to sputter lies as bad as that, ye may as well not answer. But, what should I know? I’m just an, ‘ol’ fool’, ain’t that right?”

The man then continued rubbing Scoundrel down with his elixir.

“So, who are you anyways?” Scoundrel asked.

“I could ask ye the same thing… yet, I ‘ave the feeling that no matter what your answer might be, it’d be a lie…”

Scoundrel sat quiet for a while pondering on this. Could this strange hermit know who he was? Surely not, that just couldn’t be… They had just met! Yet, as Scoundrel peered into his strange eyes, he couldn’t help but feel that they were more knowing than they seemed.

“If you think me to be such a liar, then why do you still receive me as a guest?” Scoundrel asked, while the man began crawling back to his corner in the tent, “Why did you even bother flinging yourself into the raging blizzard, when you couldn’t have possibly known for certain if there was a person to retrieve from it?”

“Perhaps it was because ye weren’t the only one searching for something on the peak of that mountain,” the man answered mysteriously before sitting back down to pour more of the elixir into his flute.

“How do you know I was searching for something?” Scoundrel asked, but the hermit had already begun playing his instrument.

Scoundrel was transfixed for a while, lamenting on what had happened. The man was, no doubt, a strange and curious soul. However, Scoundrel couldn’t help but feel there was a quality about him that was both kind and welcoming. If you had seen those eyes the man had, you would have felt the warmth and comfort flowing out of them. Even in the devious Scoundrel’s ungratefulness, he still couldn’t muster any ill intent toward him.

However, as kind of a soul this man was, Scoundrel saw that he was costing him too much time. If he had no answers for him, then Scoundrel would just have to leave. Each second Scoundrel wasted lessened the chance of him ever finding his way out of the curse that continued to grow colder on his heart.

Scoundrel plodded toward the bearded man.

“Do you believe in the Ice King?” Scoundrel finally relented.

The hermit smiled through his nest of a beard and set down his flute, “I was hoping ye would ask me that. In this part of the mountain, there’s nothing one can be more certain of. After livin’ on this mountain as long as I ‘ave, there’s no denying it. I ‘ave seen his works many a time. And, if I’m not mistaken, ye bare his mark across yer chest.”

Scoundrel was now in shock, “You’ve met the Ice King!?”

“Met ‘im? Ha! Met ‘im!? I tell ye now, if I met ‘im I wouldn’t be ‘ere today. To make business with the ice king is to make business with death itself! No, I ’ave only observed the beast’s work from afar.”

“Well, what if I told you I made a deal with him?”

The hermit’s face fell.

“Then ye’d ‘ave been a fool,” he said stammering, “I had feared that ye’d done as much with that there mark of yers… What deal did ye make with ‘im boy!? Ye best tell me now before it’s too late!”

“I—I’d rather not say…” Scoundrel said.

“Keeping secrets is a grave mistake, especially in matters concerning something as foreboding as the Ice King,” the hermit warned in a still whisper, “He’s crafty as a snake he is! Has ears and eyes everywhere. Even the wolves answer to his icy call! I’ll help ye the best I can, but I warn ye’, there’s little I can do.”

Scoundrel sat for a moment.

“Do you know anything of his history, or, better yet, somebody who does?”

“Sadly, I only know one who can answer the question you seek, and they isn’t one to talk all that much… If ye could even find them, that is…”

“I’ve climbed this ferocious mountain on my own. What more is there that I couldn’t handle?”

“Ye only stepped foot at the beginning of the Ice King’s domain. Trust me when I say this, the Craggleback Mountain is a place that is anything but easy to conquer and ye ‘ave only scratched the surface of its mysteries. Not to mention, with your injuries, I doubt ye even ‘ave the time for this venture…”

“Where are they? Who are they?” Scoundrel persisted.

“They’re sometimes ‘ere, sometimes there… They ain’t the sort that stays in one place… They ain’t even the sort that stays as one person! I sometimes find ‘em as a widow livin’ in a simple cottage, other times I find a lone lumberjack in a log house, and still, other times I find nothin’ at all… That’s why we sometimes calls ‘em the ‘warm wind’, cuz they’re no more tamable than the wind itself.”

“How on earth am I supposed to find her—or him—or IT!? I can’t just wander around this empty mountain! Time waits for no one!”

Scoundrel was completely thrown out of sorts at the prospect of searching for practically nothing, as would have you or I if we had been told such a thing. With time waning, and little hope to grip onto, an aimless search through the mountain only seemed to drain his chances further. The boy had begun to question the sanity of his host; not that he hadn’t been doing so already.

Yet, even in spite of Scoundrel’s heavy doubts, the man seemed nothing but sure of himself, “Ye are right, time does wait for no one, and the only way you’ll ever find ‘em is by accepting this truth; the key to unlocking the goal to yer journey will be patience beyond all else. Until ye can learn its secret, ye will be searching in vain for quite some time.”

“How is patience supposed to help!?”

“If there is anything I ‘ave learnt in all me years on this lone mountain top, it is this: there are some workings up ‘ere that we can never understand. Accepting that will solve a lot of yer problems.”

The man slipped a bottle of his elixir out of his pocket and cupped it in Scoundrel’s hand.

“I ‘ave the feeling ye might be needing this,” he said, grinning at Scoundrel with a twinkle in his eye, “Now go! Time waits for no one.”

Chapter Six

To Find Some Answers

Scoundrel set off without hesitation, without as much as a goodbye. If you had met Scoundrel, you would have known that he wasn’t the sort to ever take the time to thank others for their deeds (not that having somebody sacrifice their time for him was an average occurrence in the first place)… In fact, he wasn’t the sort to bother himself with the affairs of others at all; he never even attempted to get the hermit’s name!

Flying out of the loose flaps of the tent, he found himself hurling through the pitch black of midnight. If only he had looked back though, he might have seen the old hermit waving him away with a comforting gaze. Perhaps if Scoundrel had, he would have been able to see him mouth to him this one word: patience.

Although, nothing could stop him in his race for his life, not even a warning from a friend. He would not rest until he achieved his goal; until he saved himself!

So, Scoundrel went on like this, running about frivolously, with no distinction as to where he was headed in sight. To make things worse, the rocks piercing into his weary feet, the snow flying into his battered face, and the wind against his tired frame offered a battle that he felt he could no longer fight. Scoundrel began to wonder if the ice king himself might have started to fight against him, but he quickly waved those thoughts away to focus on the task at hand. It had become quite apparent that he wasn’t at all prepared for what he had thrown himself into. Yet, there was no option for retreat. He felt that he was running through the mountain in circles, and he saw no end in sight.

So, moving ever faster, he continued to press on through the wind. He ran with all his might, even as the wind’s force grew ever stronger against him. The cold air blasted against him harder, stinging his lips and numbing his feet, till they felt lifeless as stone. Even in spite of this, Scoundrel refused to give in and pushed on. Scoundrel was not a boy to quit when he had his mind set on something. Though he was a nasty, crafty, devious and malicious soul, of all his adverse traits, his spirit of perseverance was the one that stood pure.

Yet, even the most persistent of hearts must falter at some point. Scoundrel’s chest began to feel as though a needle had punctured it, and it stung with a sharp pain. He pressed his hand against it, in a vain hope to ease his pain, only to find a numbing cold, which left his hand dead as ice, where the beating of his heart should have been. The crystal bound to his chest was getting colder. Whether it was the weather around him, or the curse strengthening, he couldn’t be sure, but there was one thing he had decided upon with a certain confidence: he could go on with his trek no longer. Closing his eyes, he threw himself into the snow and lay there.

You might be thinking to yourself, “How foolish is this wretched boy? What good is casting himself into the snow while, not only his life, but the life of his whole town hangs in uncertainty?”

Well, to you I say this; what else could have he do in such a circumstance? All he had ever known was to look out for himself, and now, in his final hours, he no longer had that ability. He had utterly lost all reason and strength to move on. What was the purpose of letting himself suffer any further? The ice king obviously had him under his thumb. There was little or no chance at all that he’d make it through the day with the ice on his chest slowly numbing his soul.

The wind continued to blow furiously until a gust of wind hit him so hard that the elixir the hermit had given him shot out of his pocket. The elixir! Scoundrel now remembered what the hermit had told him about needing it. While the prospect of it giving Scoundrel the chance to move on was slim, he knew it was his only chance… If he could reach it anyhow. The elixir seemed worlds away at this point, especially with the meagre condition of Scoundrel’s body. Yet, as Scoundrel stared at the elixir, something had begun to stir up inside of him that he had seldom felt. A drive to push forward, not for his own self, but in hopes that the hermit wouldn’t have wasted all his efforts on Scoundrel after all. A hope that maybe, just maybe, the hermit could reap a fruit from his decision to take the old wretch Scoundrel in.

The feeling was a quickly fading one, just a small spark in Scoundrel’s being. It certainly didn’t consume him in any way, it only passed through his mind for a fragment of a second. Scoundrel was farbeyond cowering to such a trickery as a ‘gift’. No, no, the elixir had only reminded him of comfort, of warmth, and how he must save himself from the cold curse of the ice king. As far as the hermit, he had no part in it, nor was it even a shadow of a possibility!

So, that small spark in Scoundrel drove him toward the elixir. One frail limb after another, he dragged himself to the one shining hope he had left. He could see it in his reach, only a few yards away. Now it was only a couple yards. One yard. Two feet! Scoundrel almost had the elixir!

On the spur of the moment, a lusty wind knocked Scoundrel into the air and sent him toppling into the snow.

“NO!” he cried out in despair.

When Scoundrel lifted his now powdered head, he found that his elixir had disappeared with the wind. It was all over... Scoundrel had used all he had left in him. He rolled over to surrender to his fate…

Clink!

“The elixir!” Scoundrel shouted joyously.

He had fallen on top of it when he had been thrown into the air; the thin string that hung from the bottle’s cap had caught onto Scoundrel’s clothing.

Without hesitation, Scoundrel twisted the cap off and took a sip from inside the small bottle. After he had finished and he tied the thread around his neck, he found, to his surprise, his whole body begin to feel rejuvenated. His mind felt clearer, his heart had started to warm, and he felt his limbs renew their strength in full vigor. As he started to lift himself up out of the snow with a new aura of confidence, he saw, out in the distance, the cottage that the hermit had talked about! Its figure was shrouded in the blizzard of ice and snow, but he couldn’t have mistaken it for anything else. How he had found it, he did not know. From what the hermit had described, it only revealed itself for those who knew great patience, but he was sure he hadn’t proven anything of that sort.

Nevertheless, the knowledge that he had nearly reached his goal was too sweet to ignore, and he ran after the cottage with haste. As he surged forward, coming ever closer to it, he began to observe how strange the little house really was. Overlooking a high cliff in the mountain, the small hut looked oddly out of place. Its humble foundations quaked and moaned in the fury of the ice storm. Many icicles that had broken off from the mountain in the wind, punctured into its wooden walls. The slender wisp of smoke, that would normally float out of the chimney, bringing a subtle warmth to the world around it, was torn to shreds in the icy wind. And, in the height of the snow that continued to climb around the cottage, only the roof was left fully visible.

Scoundrel wondered how he would get in. Surely the shutters were iced over to the point that they were hard as stone. And there was no hope getting in through the door with the rising state of the snow…

While the chimney did offer a way in, and while it wasn’t an endeavor he hadn’t done with other houses, Scoundrel was unsure of whether or not it would be perceived as a threat to the person who was said to live within after he fell through it. Yet, Scoundrel saw that there were few ways in, and this would have to be his answer. Approaching the house, he slowly started climbing up the hill of snow leading to the roof. Though the snow was mostly sturdy and packed on tight, Scoundrel nearly fell inside of it a few times when one of his feet would break through a particularly weak area. The prospect of falling into the snow, or slipping off the roof of the house might have been a frightening one to you or me. Yet, Scoundrel had learned to love and find thrill in doing such, for he had done so many times down below in the town of Blackneck. Even though the cottage overlooked a great precipice, Scoundrel felt no fear. Fear was a thing he never left room for in his heart, what purpose did it ever serve? Scoundrel had viewed a lot in his short lifetime, and if he had learned anything, that was his greatest lesson.

Scoundrel had reached the roof taking great caution. All the shingles were glazed with ice, so even the slightest misstep while walking across it could have sent him toppling toward a powdery tomb of snow that awaited him below. Still, even with the fearsome knowledge of his situation, Scoundreldidn’t take the care of wasting his time lingering on it. As a small child, he had learned quickly that lingering on things always ended in despair.

The child paced his strides slow but wide, making sure to keep his feet in the firm grip of the snow, as to prevent himself from slipping. It took a little while, and quite a few close calls but he did make it to the chimney. Hugging it tightly with his two legs, he began gathering the snow that surrounded the chimney, and throwing it down the smoky tunnel. He meant for it to put out the fire down below, as well as to offer himself a bit of a cushion. Once the chimney had finally stopped spitting out smoke, and the sizzling and crackling sound that resounded out from it had ceased, he pulled himself into the chimney. Tightly pressing his hands against each wall of the tunnel, he let himself slide down toward the bottom.

Thump!

Scoundrel managed to land in the remaining pile of ash, kindling, and snow, at the bottom of the chimney, with only a few bruises. After he had rubbed himself off from the sooty mess that covered him, he studied the room around him. He found that the cottage was surprisingly warm despite the adverse weather conditions that surrounded it. The atmosphere of the room he was in appeared just as snug, as it was filled with cozy decorations, and familiar colors that reminded him of the homes down in Blackneck.

“Hello? Is anybody there?” he called out hoping for an answer. His only response was an echo and the pounding of the storm.

Seeing the welcoming setting and that the cottage was empty, he decided to make himself comfortable by finding a seat. He was exhausted after his journey and decided he deserved a rest…

“What are you doing!?” a voice snapped as Scoundrel had just started to doze off on a worn velvet couch in a corner.

Scoundrel jumped with shock, and he found himself staring face to face with an elderly bespectacled woman. Her hair was a dark silver, her face was covered in many wrinkles, and her eyes spoke of years of weariness. She was dressed in a green tattered gown that hung down to her feet and her head was covered in a dark blue bonnet. Gripped tightly in her right hand was an old broomstick, quaking with her bony frame. The height of her hunched body was only slightly above Scoundrel’s, yet, in her presence, he felt as though she towered over him.

“I said; what are you doing?!” she croaked again, her glasses bobbing with her tight jaw.

“I—I came here for—For a story!” Scoundrel said, tripping over his words.

“You put out my fire and break into my cottage for astory!? Do I look like mother goose to you!?”

“No, you don’t understand! An old hermit… He told me to come here! He said he knew you; that you could help me! Aren’t you the ‘warm wind?’”

At this point the old woman was beating the stuttering boy with her broomstick.

At Scoundrel’s words, the old woman finally stopped beating him, “A hermit?” adjusting her glasses back onto her face, she saw the elixir hanging from Scoundrel’s neck. “Did this hermit give you that?” she said, shaking her shriveled bony finger at it.

“Yes! Do you recognize it?”

“Recognize it? Why I taught him how to make it!” She then started to shake her head. “The old fool!” she muttered, “I warned him about going up onto the tip of the mountain! I told him that he wasn’t to give his elixir to anyone!”

“What do you mean by ‘you warned him’? And he wasn’t an old fool by giving me the elixir, I can tell you that right now!”

“But isn’t that what you called him?” the woman said with an all too knowing glam in her eye, “I suppose it’s too late to linger on it now though, what’s done is done… However, I’ll have you know, in that bottle, was the last of the elixir he had. It was the only food he had to sustain himself. Whatever it was he gave it to you for must have been of a great importance.”

“You still haven’t answered my questions!”

“I don’t give answers for free my dear! You’re lucky I haven’t thrown you out of my cottage for your intrusive entrance! What sort of business did you come to me for anyways?”

“In all truth, I’ve gotten into some trouble with the Ice King…”

“The Ice King!? Tell me right now lad, what deal have you made with that snake!?”

“I’m not giving answers for free either.” he said with a smug smile.

The old woman stood straighter and smiled to herself, “Well, then. I suppose you have half the wit I thought you had. If you wish to keep such a thing secret, then do so, but I warn you that it comes at a greater cost than you may think.”

Scoundrel ignored the warning, “I’m digging for history on the Ice King. I need answers.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, “Is this the ‘story’ you seek? If so, his history is a tale I know and remember well. Yet, like all my answers, it will come at a price…”

“What sort of price?”

The woman walked about the room and snatched up a shovel from the corner, “Well, you put out the fire in my chimney, and I’ll soon be in need of replacement firewood,” she shoved the shovel into Scoundrel’s hands, “You’ll be needing this to clear the snow out of the way of my doorway. I won’t be able to leave my house for kindling otherwise.”

Scoundrel was indignant. He came here prepared for a great exchange, and all she wanted was for him to shovel away some snow!?

“But—But…” Scoundrel began in shock, “How am I to even leave your cottage?”

“How did you get in? I suppose that if you wish to enter my house through my chimney, like a complete hooligan, you can exit my house through a chimney.”

“And you expect me to shovel away all that snow?”

“What, is shoveling snow too great a burden for you to carry? You act as though you’ve never held a shovel before!”

Scoundrel’s face grew red. In truth, he hadn’t used a shovel before, as he never had any reason for it. Being raised alone, there was nobody to teach or tell him to do such.

However, embarrassment wasn’t the only reason why his face began to turn red. No. It also was red in rage toward the old lady. He had never been addressed by anybody in the manner she spoke in, and he was certainly never asked to do such chores. He felt as though he was being treated as a mere child! Even if hewasa child, down in Blackneck, the people spoke of him as if he was an unearthly creature, an immortal boy of mischief. While the men would still scoff, Scoundrel could always sense a fear in their eyes when he was in their presence. Why wasn’t such fear in the eyes of this woman?

Yet, he realized that if he truly wished to get anywhere with the old crab, he would have to submit to her needs… at least for a little while.

“Fine,” the boy grumbled, “I suppose I can manage…”

Seeing that there was no use in squabbling with the woman any longer, he went quickly to work. After a bit of an ordeal, he found himself scooting up the sooty chimney on a length of rope.

Up the chimney, down the roof, and towards the spot where the door was buried, he growled and snorted like an ungraceful pig. While his body was focused on getting the job done, Scoundrel’s mind was full of utter resentment. The scalawag was in such a fit of anger that you could have hardly told the difference between him and a raging bull.

This was a dreadfully unhappy situation. The great Scoundrel, the thief of ages, reduced to shoveling snow off an old woman’s doorstep! Why, he’d once gone to the trouble of piling snow in front of doorsteps!

“Perhaps, once my job is done, the vase she is keeping in her corner can be payment for how she’s treated me,” he snarled as he started shoveling the snow away, “I’d just need to figure out a way to distract her…”

And so, he went on like this, grinding his teeth as he flung the snow about. One would have thought that the boy was a lunatic! Wasn’t he though? To be angered by such a thing was outright ridiculous,and yet, to him, it seemed to mean all the world.

After a while, he’d finally settled himself. How he came to calm down, I don’t know, but I suppose that he eventually grew weary of his vexation. The widow would pay in the end anyways, right? There really was no use fretting over such a thing, it wasted his efforts. He’d hardly made a dent into the snow at this point.

Scoundrel continued on in this new approach, and he found that it was done sooner than he’d imagined. Where the ten foot deep pile of snow had once been, a clean walkway from the doorstep and into the snowy mountain was paved. While he had been certain that there was a trick to the old lady’s deal, as of then, it seemed that all was right.

Entering the cottage, after a bit of a scuffle with the frozen door, he found the widow knitting calmly on her rocker.

Not bothering to look up from her work, she asked him, “Is it done?”

“Well what do you suppose?” asked Scoundrel, gesturing to the door.

“I suppose that you need a lesson in some decent manners…”

“Are you ready to satisfy your end of the deal? As you can see, I’ve made my payment.”

“Eh, but that’s just it. While I’m staring at my mess of knitting I canNOTsee what you’ve done. As long as I’m busy troubling myself with these tangled strings, I won’t be able to see anything else.”

“You simply need to look up and give it a rest! There’s time for it later!” said Scoundrel who was frazzled.

“Exactly. Let’s hope that that’s a lesson you’ve learned,” the woman said pointing towards the shovel.

Scoundrel was greatly confused, but he rolled it off reasoning that the woman had merely lost a good deal of her wits in old age, while a rush of warm wind flew over his head.

The woman started towards the door, and, peeping out the small window in it, a wrinkled smile spread across her face.

“Yes, that’s exactly how I wanted it,” she declared, “A job as well done as that must have taken a great deal of patience.”

“I suppose so…”

“So, you wanted the story of the old Ice King, huh boy?” she chuckled, starting back to her rocker, “Come! Come, take a chair and sit. I’m sorry that the room is in a bit of disarray, I wasn’t prepared for company.”

Scoundrel found a seat on an old rickety stool in a corner.

“So, you want his story from the beginning, don’t ya?”

“Yes, as much as I can know.”

“Well, you’re in luck, to be certain. I knew the old boy well. As much of a shock as it may be to you, he was once a normal man, all those years ago.”

“But… In my town of Blackneck, they say he’s been tormenting them for a century! How could you have possibly known him?”

“I don’t answer any questions for free, child,” she said, “You’ve paid for the history of the Ice King, not my own. May I continue the story?”

“I suppose…”

“So, as I was saying… all those years ago; over a century at this point, the Ice King was a normal man, and quite the handsome one too. ‘Handsome Henry’ is what we used to call him… He was a prince in his youth, because, you see, the town of Blackneck wasn’t always the rotting village it is now. It was once a thriving kingdom. Men and women came far and wide to visit it; the ‘City of Gold’.

“The City of Gold?” Scoundrel asked, quite confused.

“You didn’t think that the city was called Blackneck back then, did you? The name of Blackneck came later; it was what we ended up nicknaming it. We started calling it that after the old Ice King truly came into form, because of the black scar he had on his neck! But, back to the story…

“The ‘City of Gold’ was led by the Ice King’s father, until he died that is. The Ice King, or Henry,was a grown man by that point and was grief stricken. He had a close relationship with his father, as most sons do. He had already lost his mother in years prior, so he had become truly alone. I’m sure you know the feeling…

Scoundrel responded with no emotion. How much did she know of his past?

“Anyways, in the event of his father’s death,” the old lady began again, “Henry ascended to the throne. He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing at that point, in spite of his father teaching him the trade. For a while, the city began to fall into chaos. In truth, I believe he had grown lonely, and uncomfortable. Loneliness weakens the mind and heart you know. I think he knew this as well, because not long after taking the seat of the throne, he began sending his scribes to scout the city and neighboring kingdoms for the perfect bride. Not the noblest approach, but it certainly garnered attention. Soon, the whole palace was swarming with women of all kinds, and Henry had his advisors sent out to choose him the perfect ones out of the bunch. They came to him with many pretty girls, some being princesses from distant kingdoms, others being simple peasants, and others being the daughters of the advisors… no surprise there… But Henry found that none of them were right. He felt that none of them truly loved him…”

“Wait! The Ice King believed in love?!”

“He also believed in marrying complete strangers on the spot! He was a young fool back then, and much has changed since… much has changed…”

Scoundrel’s face fell.

“Anyhow, back to the tale at hand. If you wish to continue on interrupting the story like this, I might as well not tell it!” she said, “So, Henry ended up canceling the whole affair, to the dismay of the girls, and his advisors most of all. He resolved that he was going to take a long walk to think about things… Being a king isn’t an easy task, and he felt that he could use the rest. He found that his wandering path took him into the ‘enchanted forest’ (every kingdom seems to have one). Like in all kingdoms, this forest was mostly abandoned, save for the weeds and thorny trees that overtook it. Yet, to the shock of everybody, in this deserted wood, his paths crossed with an astonishing woman. Her name was Lucy, and she was on her way out of the kingdom due to Henry’s cancelation of his event. The two fell in love on the spot, ‘love at first sight’ you might say. There wasn’t ever a more gorgeous couple under the sun, and Lucy proved to be a strong and capable person, able to help Henry bring his kingdom back in order. Yes, if there was ever any doubt that such a thing as love existed to Henry, the bond between these two quickly dashed it. It was as though they were under a spell when they were together, a lovely trance that created an atmosphere pleasant to be beheld by all. In time, the two eventually wed, and the kingdom once again began to flourish under their rule. The world sung songs of their glorious love and the beauties that surrounded their kingdom. If only you had seen it, your eyes would have been dazzled!” the woman sat for a moment with a dreamy gaze in her eyes, and Scoundrel watched as her face seemed to fill with the beauty of those golden days.

“This rule lasted for years,” she continued, “but it seems that all good things must come to an end. Queen Lucy suddenly fell deathly ill. The sickness was one that even the greatest doctors and nurses in Blackneck could not help. The prospect of losing yet another person he loved was too much of a burden to bear for Henry, especially with the fear that he wouldn’t be able to protect the kingdom without her. He sent scribes far and wide for cures. He gathered the help of all his advisors. Yet all his efforts were shattered by the swift blow of vanity.

“In time, Henry concluded that there was only one hope left for his fading wife… In the mighty mountain of Craggleback, there was an old wizard… By some he was called Craggleback, yet none knew if he was called this because of the mountain he lived in, or if the mountain itself was named after the wizard… The one thing that everyone could be sure of though was that he was ancient, and his home and identity was as wild like the winds that blew so strongly in that old mountain…”

Scoundrel began to stir uneasily in his chair. It occurred to him that both the wizard Craggleback and this strange woman were strikingly similar…

“There were few that had ever met this old wizard,” the lady said with a distant look on her face. Had Scoundrel not been seated in the same room with her, he would’ve thought he was looking into a painting of something otherworldly.

She turned her gaze to meet Scoundrel’s for a moment, but then her eyes returned to the window, “Some came to this wizard for help with things beyond human grasp. Most of those that came down, those very few, would say that his works came out of the darkest parts of all creation, and stood as some of the most destructive forces ever seen by man. There were still others, while they were an even smaller portion, who found satisfaction with the works of the wizard… But they never lived long…

“Yet, what was King Henry to do? In his eyes, if he didn’t consult the wizard for help, the whole kingdom would die. His advisors said this wasn’t so, they said his wife’s death would not spell the death of the kingdom. They said Henry was being ridiculous.

“It was a very fragile decision, but, against all warnings, Henry chose to scale the mountain for the wizard. He was aided by nothing but his own sense of direction, for, in the mountain of Craggleback, there were no other guides to follow. How he did it is a mystery to all, but he did eventually find the wizard and his hut. And that is where I will end.”

“Wait, you can’t just end the story there!” Scoundrel cried in disbelief, “I paid for the full history of the Ice King!”

“Yes, but you see, you paid for the history of who the Ice King was. And the Ice King never did leave the house of the wizard, not as the same person anyways… So, it stands to reason that this is the proper place where his history ended… and a new one began…”

“Fine! Then, can you tell me the next history?”

“I don’t give answers for free my dear…”

“Then what price is it at? Please, I’ll give anything!” he pleaded.

The woman started back to her knitting, “I’m afraid there’s nothing left you can—,” she was interrupted when she started hemming away.

“I’m afraid there’s nothing you can give me,” she finished, after her cough started to settle.

Scoundrel was outraged! This was complete injustice! He had paid for this story with hard tedious work; a large portion of his last day! And now she was denying him of his right to hear the rest?! The vase in the corner was starting to look mighty tempting to him…

“But there’s nobody else who I can get answers from! And I need these answers, I only have so much time! Could you at least tell me if there’s any other way for me to get the answers I need?”

The old woman opened her mouth to respond, but then she started hacking away so hard that you might have thought it was the sound of a lumberjack trying to cut down a tree. “I—I don’t give any--,” She managed to wheeze out, before hitting the floor in a fitful cough, until her breaths and movements stopped altogether.

Scoundrel was completely alarmed. He hadn’t expected the old woman to collapse like this. Only moments before she had been ablaze! How was he to get his answers now?

There was something else Scoundrel felt for the old woman; a fear for her life, not his own. It was a tingling sensation, one that drove him to act. He’d never felt this way before… Perhaps it was just the feeling of the frost nipping at his heart, or himself finally recovering from the cold… And perhaps it was just his need of answers… But Scoundrel still felt an overwhelming urge to save this woman.

As Scoundrel frantically searched his head for a way to spare her, his fingers started to grope at the elixir around his neck. Yes, the elixir was the answer! Perhaps that would avert the death of the old woman. Yet, then the ruffian remembered why the old hermit had given him the elixir in the first place; Scoundrel had nearly died on the mountain if it hadn’t been for it. Surely he’d need it later on his journey, and if he gave it to the old woman, it would be gone.

The old woman was certainly a trouble to Scoundrel, and had, by no means, been friendly to him. Not to mention, remembering her last words, he could assume that she’d probably never give him the answers he wanted once revived. Although, Scoundrel remembered the strange look she had on herface that made him feel as if he was looking through a window in time… He couldn’t let that die out. He couldn’t. It was the last surviving bit of Blackneck’s history. And perhaps… perhaps the life of this woman was greater than the importance of his own… What good had ever come by him anyways, the rotten wretched robber of Blackneck?

So, Scoundrel popped the cap of the phial around his neck, and slipped the bottle into the old woman’s mouth. The whole bottle was poured down her throat, not a drop was spared. It took a minute, but the old woman awoke with a gasp. She steadily pulled herself up from the ground and looked around the room with an astonishment. To Scoundrel’s surprise, he found himself smiling.

“Did you save me, boy?” she asked in surprise.

Scoundrel sat for a moment.

“I don’t give answers for free,” he finally said, letting the now empty phial drop to the floor.

“Perhaps you’re half the ‘scoundrel’ people think you are after all…” she said with a gleam in her eye.

“Or perhaps I’m simply a thief that needs something to rob,” he said, “How do you know that I’m called that anyways?”

“I never give any answers for free…”

“Speaking of which, the rest of the history of the Ice King—.”

The old woman interrupted him, “Is a tale I am not going to finish out. If you truly wish for your answers, then seek it. Only those that are willing to pay the price deserve the answer. As for myself, you will be getting no more out of me. You might as well try to get fruit out of a rock.”

“But you don’t understand! The Ice King is—.”

The woman interrupted again, “There are few things that take place on this mountain that I don’t understand. Your story isn’t an exception. Now, you’d better hurry on, time is ticking. The sun will be beginning to rise soon, if I’m not mistaken.”

The old lady was right, precious time was draining. After saying goodbye to the old woman and thanking her for her hospitality, Scoundrel went on his way. He wasn’t quite sure where he was headed, yet that didn’t slow down his pace. Scoundrel thought about going back and asking the old woman for advice, but when he turned his head to where the house should have been, it was gone.

“She wouldn’t have been much help anyways,” grumbled Scoundrel, who was greatly confused. He felt his confusion strangely settle though, when a warm gust of wind pushed him forward as he went from the house.

Chapter Seven

The Rabid Rage

Maybe Scoundrel wasn’t sure of where he was going, yet, if Scoundrel had known that the Ice King had already determined his path, he perhaps would have turned the other way for safety. Yes, lurking in the shadows was the Ice King’s watchful eye; it had been on Scoundrel during the whole journey. It was only a matter of time before it would strike.

As Scoundrel trekked deeper and deeper into the icy mountain, he felt as the chilling sting on his heart pierced him deeper. It was a freezing pain in his chest that delved inward, feeling tougher than thorns as it sucked the tender warmth from his body. He sorrowfully regretted the decision of ever stepping into the ice castle. Why had he not listened?! The warnings in his town had been so clear. Yet, Scoundrel had to admit that he had rarely ever conformed to any rules in his town, he’d always felt that they were for the weak and cowardly. Yet now, it became all too apparent to him that perhaps breaking the rules had ended with the same result.

There was no use sulking now though. No! He had promises to keep. All too important promises. And, for the first time in Scoundrel’s short life, it was a promise that he couldn’t avoid.

As these many thoughts swirled through Scoundrel’s mind, the weather around him seemed to do the same. An ominous wind blew, it was a murky smog that began to put Scoundrel into a daze. The snow around him started to change color from pure white to sooty gray. A howling cry could be heard in the distance, and a rotten musty smell began to surround him.

“The wolves!” he cried sniffing the air.

Indeed, it was the wolves. They were a terror to all in Blackneck, and were known to attack when the weather was at its coldest. Even Scoundrel had been robbed by them before, which was quite the feat. The wolves were monstrous creatures with gnarled black claws, oily fur, small black eyes that popped out of their heads like shining pebbles, and snarling yellow teeth. These wolves traveled in large vicious packs, with even the smallest of the group being as big as a man, and the largest of them being twice that size. They were said to work for the great Ice King himself, and, to anybody smart enough to believe in the legend of the Ice King, there was no denying it.

They seemed to only come once the ice had glazed over all of Blackneck and there was no escape. Scoundrel guessed that they were headed down to the town right now, if the Ice King hadn’t sent them after him. Scoundrel would most definitely have to hide from these scavengers, or else get eaten. With the wolves, there were only two options; either offer them something to eat in order to ward off their wrath, or be eaten yourself. Scoundrel unfortunately had nothing to offer, so he decided upon attempting the third option that rarely worked: hiding.

The noses of the wolves were fierce, like every ability they possessed…to avoid them picking up your scent, you’d have to be very crafty. Sadly, Scoundrel had nothing he could use to weaken their senses. In fact, besides a lone match he had in his pocket, he really had nothing at all. Darting through the snow searching for somewhere to hide, he began to realize he was completely exposed. And, to make things worse, the wolves seemed to be following his trail. He could already smell their dingy scent grow more potent.

After testing all his options, Scoundrel resolved that his only hope was burrowing into the snow. It had grown to be seven feet deep in some places, so, as of then, it seemed to be the smartest option.

However, Scoundrel couldn’t have been more wrong. These wolves were skilled at digging and found great sport in it. Not to mention, only a complete numbskull would bury themselves under such a thick pile of snow. Even if he managed to survive the wolves, he’d still have the next obstacle of insuring that he’d make it out of the pile of snow alive. Scoundrel would’ve been better off running; every inch deeper he dug his hole was another inch closer to the prospect of death.

Once he’d dug a deep enough hole, he rolled himself into it and began piling the snow back on top of himself. The snow was freezing, and the cold burned at his skin, but he sucked in as much breath as he could to keep himself from suffocating, and continued packing it on.

As he sat piled under mounds of snow, the muffled sound of the wolves howling could be heard in the distance. The sound was growing ever louder and Scoundrel started to wish he had been able to smooth out the pile of snow above himself in order to hide his tracks even further.

Thump! Thump! Pounding paws of the wolves started to shake the whole ground. They weren’t the only things pounding; Scoundrel’s clammy heart was throbbing so ferociously that he felt it nearly rip right out of his chest. Clutching the ground tightly, Scoundrel winced as he listened to the sniffing noses of the wolves pass him by. There would be many of them, would he have any hope of escaping their sight? He knew he had his answer when he began to hear scraping claws against the snow; digging above him. The scraping started to grow louder, and louder, and louder still! Every so often it would be halted by the whimpering and harsh growling of the wolves flying into a violent brawl. This never lasted long though, and as one fight started between the wolves, new wolves came in to replace them. Within a mere minute, all the snow above Scoundrel had been diminished to a very thin layer. He could already feel the weight of the sharp jagged wolf claws breaking through the snow. With a heartyhowl a wolf sunk his teeth into Scoundrel’s body, and lifted him out of the snow, flinging him wildly about. However, all the other wolves, who were too eager to have the treasure as their own, began tackling and running each other over for Scoundrel. The angry wolf that gripped Scoundrel started clamping his jaws, and prepared for a battle for his food. He hurled Scoundrel into a tree and began fighting off his fellow wolves one by one.

Scoundrel’s mind started racing, he had not a second to waste. His body was bruised and tattered, but he knew that if he didn’t take this chance now, he’d be made into a meal. Suddenly, a great tree branch fell out of the tree above him and, SMACK! It hit him right in the head.

“Curse these darn wolves!” he moaned rubbing his head.

An idea quickly sparked in his head. Ripping his match out of his pocket, he struck it and lit the branch. He was just in time too, for, just as a wolf came rushing at him, he swung the thick branch into its face.

The poor thing let out a sharp whine and ran off crying in pain with its face afire. The wolf rolled around the snow in an effort to put out the flames, only to have the pain of the icy cold greeting him in trade. This event caught the attention of the rest of the rowdy wolves and they began charging at the lone flame Scoundrel wielded.

The boy hadn’t been sure how long he intended to keep this up, but now, in this instance, he found himself having a surge to go as long as he had a breath. For a moment, he didn’t know where this came from, but then he saw images of the citizens in the town below flashing through his mind... The result of his fight wouldn’t just effect himself, but the lives of all the townspeople in Blackneck. It was a strange thing, he’d been tormenting those townspeople all his life, but now, he found himself fighting against just that.

From then on, when it was learned what had happened that morning, people would go on questioning who the boy was fighting for; himself, or the townspeople. Nobody would ever truly know, but it was said that at that moment, he had a burst of strength to help him fend off those wolves. While he could barely remember all that had happened, the boy would go on to remember a strange warm wind blowing, at that sacred instant.

One by one, the wolves ran off with their faces set aflame by his torch. How Scoundrel could have overcome such odds was a mystery beyond what any could explain, but once Scoundrel had finally conquered the chief of the wolves, the largest of them all, and knocking off a necklace it wore across his neck, every wolf had finally run off in retreat. It might have been in fear of the flickering flame that Scoundrel held, or it might have been that they feared the sun, which had begun rising in the east, but whatever it was, they ran from it as fast as their legs could carry them. Trampling each other, they fled into the mountain, never to be seen again. I personally believe that the ice king went on to punish them for their failure, however, there is no way to tell what truly became of them.

After the wolves had retreated, Scoundrel smoldered his flame in the snow and walked over to observe the necklace the wolf had been wearing. The cold metal gleamed brightly in the rising sun, leaving a stinging glare in Scoundrel’s eye. Looking closer he saw the emblem placed in the center of the chain necklace start to reveal itself; it was what looked to be a golden heart. Yes, it was a heart that hung to the chain!

Scoundrel chuckled, “What a pretty piece of jewelry… a shame that such a nasty looking beast had been wearing it!”

Scoundrel clasped the trinket tightly in his hand and started running his fingers over the designs embroidered to it. They were extremely intricate and delicate. It was so much so, that it looked as if they had been crafted out of mere dust by something as small as a gnat. Faint memories of the emblems he’d seen in the ice castle invoked Scoundrel’s mind, as he marveled at the designs on the jewelry. Actually, as Scoundrel took a closer look at them, they were almost an exact copy!

Scoundrel’s finger then came over a ruby red gem that sat in the center of the heart. Pressing his finger down on it, to test if it was a true stone, the heart suddenly cracked open, splitting in half.

“No!” shouted Scoundrel.

He felt like a dimwit quite quickly after this, as he realized that it was a locket.

“That’s strange…” said Scoundrel inquisitively, “Why would the wolf have a treasure like this?”

He then peered inside. In the left half, there was a portrait of a beautiful woman with a crown placed atop her head. Her face was full of youth, yet her eyes were full of knowing. From her head poured down golden locks of hair that sang sweet songs of prosperity and good health. She smiled at Scoundrel and, even with this being but a picture, it gave him a sense of warmth in the cold. Turning his gaze to the right side, he read an inscription: “To my beloved Lucy, for remembrance that, even apart, our bond shall always remain. Forever yours, Henry.”

Not being well taught in literature, reading this took a bit of a strain for Scoundrel. Yet, once he had read it, he soon realized who this belonged to.

“It’s the ice king’s…” he whispered, under his breath.

The wind started blowing violently, tearing the locket from Scoundrel’s hands. He struggled against its mighty pull and started pulling the chain over his neck. He couldn’t let this go to the wind, it was too precious. After a tenacious battle, Scoundrel secured the locket around his neck. The wind continued blowing harder, but it finally died down when it saw its efforts were vain.

With the wind calmed down, Scoundrel studied the locket some more. As he looked at it he noticed a strange detail. At the bottom of the right side of the heart, there was a small text and symbol. Squinting his eyes, he read these words: Heftyfoot’s Ironworks.

It must have been crafted in an iron mine… Perhaps if he went there he’d find more history on this strange treasure. After all, it wasn’t a normal occurrence to give a wolf such a piece… Gifts are special things, and having one taken from you is a great and sorrowful event. Scoundrel knew this, because he’d stolen many of them, and he’d never seen as distraught a look as the one of somebody he’d stolen from. If there was any act in the world that he knew was conceived as love, it was the giving of a gift. Maybe, just maybe, he’d learn more about how to give proof of love to old Blackneck, the Ice King.

But where was this ironworks at? Scoundrel had an idea. Down below, in the town of Blackneck, there was an old abandoned mine shaft. Seated in the root of the mountain, it had been boarded up and sealed a dozen times over, but nobody was sure of its origin. He’d heard whispers that it used to pour out rivers of gold, that it was filled with riches of many kinds. However, it wasn’t until now that he began considering these rumors true.

The only problem was that he wasn’t able to travel into Blackneck without being hanged… He would have to be careful not to alert any of the villagers in Blackneck of his existence. This, of course, wasn’t going to be too tough of a task for Scoundrel. After all, he’d pillaged many people in their sleep before.

“If this is the path I need to take, so be it…” Scoundrel muttered.

So, into the murky mist of ice of snow, Scoundrel made his descent for Blackneck.

Chapter Eight

Deeper In and Further Down

It took Scoundrel quite a while to reach the bottom of the mountain, and at that point the sun had fully arisen out of the eastern horizon. The further he climbed down the steep mountain slope, the more he began to have doubts about how he would make it back up the mountain in time. If it took him this long to climb down, how on earth would he find the time to climb back up? He finally decided that they were issues he’d have to address later.

“Perhaps the Ice King will take me there in his whirlwind…” he said in an attempt to soothe his worries.

Returning to the task at hand, Scoundrel peered down the slope to see that there was a mass of men at its foot. Gathered by the dozens, they were all armed with pitchforks and knives. Large contorted scowls covered their faces as they stood tall against the current of the wind.

“What are they all doing here!?” Scoundrel thought to himself.

Realization struck him brutally: they were preparing to fend off the wolves. Every year, the wolves came down the mountain in their sleep, before the men could ever prepare for a fight. Yet, this morning, since the wolves had never came the night prior, they were finally ready. The cruelest of ironies was that they had not a wolf to battle, nor would they ever have one… Instead, they had Scoundrel…

“What am I to do now?” the ruffian griped, pacing large circles in the snow.

On Scoundrel’s end, these men served a great problem. After all, they’d be just as willing to kill him as any wolf; the only difference was that the men had Scoundrel outnumbered and outmatched. It was quite the predicament to be in.

Thankfully there were two things Scoundrel had that none of the men did; a remarkable wit and the element of surprise. Yes, dozens of ideas were already whirling around, as for the wind, which was blocking Scoundrel from the men’s view with sheets of snow. Scoundrel wasn’t one to stand idle, and he quickly decided upon what seemed to be the best distraction at the moment: he’d cause an avalanche.

Without hesitation, Scoundrel began howling at the top of his lungs like a wolf, in hopes of striking fear into the men. He stomped at the ground with his foot. He slapped his hands together zealously. He made as much noise as any person could physically muster. Although, it was at this point that his idea ruthlessly turned against him.

The current of the wind shifted and slowed, allowing the men to see Scoundrel fully exposed. To add to this, attempting to cause an avalanche perhaps wasn’t Scoundrel’s brightest idea. After all, he stood at the foot of the mountain where it wasn’t likely that any rocks or boulders would be breaking away. So, to Scoundrel’s dismay, as he stamped about hooting and hollering, the men began charging at him with both angry and puzzled looks. Scoundrel would have been skewered too, if it hadn’t been for a bit of luck. He had been completely unaware of this attack up to this point, with his eyes pinched shut and the wind blocking out the sound of thumping boots. So, when a pitchfork came hurling at him, he might have been brought to the ground then and there. Yet, a warm gust of wind blew the pitchfork to the ground, alerting Scoundrel of the attack. The boy was nimble enough to recognize the situation and snatch up the pitchfork.

This was little use though, and it only slowed Scoundrel down. He soon had the whole hoard of men against him and thrusting the pitchfork at each one of them proved useless. It didn’t help that he himself had become like a piñata for them all.

“Come men, let’s tear him apart limb by limb!” one man sneered.

“Let’s roast ‘em alive!” cried another.

“He stole my breakfast last week! I say we turn ‘em into some in return!” said a third.

The men continued bickering on like this, until they began turning on each other. Soon, instead of only Scoundrel being their piñata, the piñata became every man on the foot of the mountain. While this senseless fighting may seem rather savage, in their defense, cold and famine can bring out the worst in people.

Scoundrel saw his advantage, and tried to escape, but, of course, he was the main target for most of the men. Dodging the fierce barbarians at every inch he advanced, Scoundrel struggled to reach the old mine’s entrance. After being thrown about a few more times though, he began to realize that this effort was useless. One of the few chances of escaping was smoothing out the rough rage that encased him.

Scoundrel cleared his throat, “I am not your enemy!” he shouted over the commotion in a still voice.

“Ha, ye terrorize us countless times over, and now ye say yer not an enemy!?” scoffed one man who was twisted into a human pretzel.

“Agreed, do ye think we are stupid!?” said another man, with his axe caught in his forest of hair.

“I know it may seem hard to believe,” said Scoundrel, “But I’m the one who stopped the wolves from attacking Blackneck last night.”

“Ye mean, yer the one who controls the wolves!?” one shouted, “Everybody, let’s sack ‘em!”

“No, I fought the wolves off one by one, and I’m telling the truth!” said Scoundrel, under a pile of men, “I’ve changed my ways! I don’t want to harm Blackneck anymore!”

Scoundrel’s eyes suddenly went wide, he hadn’t an idea where those words came from. The thought of abandoning his crime in Blackneck hadn’t passed Scoundrel’s mind until now. Of course, one might find that people will say things they don’t mean when they’re fighting for their life.

“Sure…” said one, rolling his two black eyes, “And I’m a fairy! Ye just killed two lumberjacks in the mountain yesterday, didn’t ye? Ye expect us to believe that a wicked wretch like you can suddenly turn all that around!?”

Scoundrel’s face fell, and his eyes became heavy.

“You’re right!” he yelled, “I am just a worthless thief! And you’re all my victims!”

Scoundrel then broke out of the pile of men in a fury (not without pickpocketing a few first though). Running as fast as he could, he ripped the hilt of an abandoned axe off the ground and charged towards the boarded up mine.

“Hey! He has my satchel!” shouted one man racing after him.

Everybody had been put into a sort of daze at the events that had just transpired, so not even one could muster the energy to catch Scoundrel. The boy was like a firework that had just been alit. Even if you could manage to catch it in midair, it would only explode with you.

Once Scoundrel had reached the entrance to the mine, he swung his axe at the boards furiously, until the whole wall gave away. He then dove into the mine without hesitation. A few of the men ran after him, but once they realized what had become of him, they plodded back to the rest of the group with dismal defeated faces.

“That little devil will be back again, no doubt…” moaned one, “He always comes back…”

It was dark in the tunnel. Dark, cold and damp. The very definition of uncomfortable would best describe it. Scoundrel’s skin had been cut up by the rough jagged walls in countless places after only minutes of journeying.

Roughness wasn’t the only problem with the tunnel though. In some places it was much too wide, while in others it was much too small. Scoundrel would sometimes find himself squeezed in between the walls so tight that he’d have to roll over on his side to keep moving forward. In other places, the tunnel would grow so wide that Scoundrel would find himself groping aimlessly in the dark for a way through the cavern.

He had begun to question what sort of person would have been expected to guide themselves through these tunnels. After all, Scoundrel was just a boy, and if squeezing through these mines was a tough task for him, how was somebody nearly twice as large to get through?

“Maybe this is why they closed the old mine down,” Scoundrel said sarcastically as he made his way in deeper.

He had begun to regret not bringing any sort of lantern or light into the tunnels. At this point, the cave had become so dark that he could no longer see. You could have stood right in front of him and he wouldn’t have had the slightest idea anybody was there. In fact, Scoundrel had begun to wonder if just that had begun to happen to him. Every so often he thought he heard the pitter patter of light footsteps across the cavern floor. At one point, he swore he felt the warm touch of another’s breath against his back. Yet, he could never tell for sure… How could he?

“It’s just the echo of your own feet,” he assured himself, “Those idiotic men must have gone to yourhead!”

Yes, more than anything, Scoundrel loathed another encounter with the men.

“I don’t need to deal with any more of their stupidity!” Scoundrel told himself bitterly, “If they think they can make me, the great Scoundrel, pay for my crimes, they are sorrowfully mistaken!”

Even amidst this, Scoundrel was extremely confident that it wasn’t the men’s presence that he was sensing in the dark. While he couldn’t seem to get them out of his head, how was it possible they could have followed him into the mine? On top of the fact that the mine was tough to enter, there was also bound to be countless alternate passageways that could lead the man astray.

Even with this confidence, Scoundrel knew something was awry. At every turn it seemed, he swore that he could see the disapproving nasty look of one of the men staring into his eyes. At one point, he lost his footing in a wide part of the tunnel, and found himself nearly tumbling down into a fathomless abyss. While it might have been nothing but of his own figment of imagination, he thought he felt a firm hand grasp his rags and pull him back onto the hard rock floor of the cave.

“Stop being a fretful child!” Scoundrel told himself, wagging an invisible finger in the air, “Your garments simply snagged onto an old rock!”

Even with that comforting statement, the shakiness in his own voice and the ominous echo that came after it was anything but that. While his silver tongue might have been skilled in convincing others of his lies, he knew that he wasn’t able to lie to himself. Something was wrong, and there was no denying it.

Scoundrel continued on like this in the darkness, moving frivolously towards nowhere. At this point, he hadn’t the slightest sense of direction or motivation. What was he truly looking for? When he’d first decided to come down here, the idea of exploring the mine sounded so simple, so alluring. However, now, he wasn’t even sure what he was doing. How are you expected to find a treasure when you can’t even see? You might as well be a ship that can’t sail.

Ultimately, the whole endeavor seemed to be an utter waste of time. He would have turned back too, if it hadn’t been for the fact that he had no idea of where he’d turn back to. After escaping the arena of men, the rush of success completely wiped away all other concerns. He never gave a thought to plotting his way through the cave!

Truly, Scoundrel had no other options but to wander in the mines with the hope of finding help or a way out.

Unexpectedly, as Scoundrel was walking through the mine, he heard something that made his ears perk up. It was music! Yes, beautiful music! Oh, and what a delightful sound it was to his ears, in trade for empty echoes reverberating off the walls of the cavern. Even if this was all just a hallucination of his, Scoundrel had decided that he’d trade the hope in the dream over a harsh reality of being alone in the darkness.

As sad as this resolve was, Scoundrel set off running through the tunnels in a blur. He might have looked like a mighty fool, running after a shrill sound in a dead empty mine, but he no longer cared. He felt that he had been isolated in the emptiness for hours, and was ready to embrace any kind of company the cave had to offer.

It turned out that his ears were correct, and he soon found himself sprinting towards a dim light. Yet, even with himself being prepared with the fact that whatever company he’d meet in the mine would be strange, he still couldn’t have been ready for what he would meet.

He continued on toward the light, with it growing ever brighter. His feet snagged on the rocks that jutted out of the ground, he tore his clothes trying to break through the thin width of the tunnel, but none of it phased him. His gaze was fixed on his goal, and that alone. When he finally reached the light, he found himself tumbling into a brightly lit room; at least it seemed bright compared to the labyrinth he’d just come out of. It was lit by many candles, hanging from mantles nailed crudely into the walls. In fact, the whole room was crude. Everything in it was either rusted or jagged. Believe it or not, there was even a bed in the corner that looked to be made of rock.

Scoundrel goggled at this visual treat and change in scenery, though, he hadn’t forgotten that his ears were the reason he had been brought here. What had happened to the music? At first Scoundrel didn’t notice the change, in the excitement of finding light, but now, he was extremely curious as to who lived in this strange dwelling. Scoundrel turned his head all about, but he didn’t see anyone…

Whack! Scoundrel felt something hit him hard in the shin.

Looking down, Scoundrel saw a small man with a long white beard that fell to his feet. At least, compared to the man’s height it was long. Truthfully, the man was only half a foot taller than half of Scoundrel’s height. He was quite the sight to be sure, and Scoundrel couldn’t help but laugh (it was a very rude laugh too).

“What are you laughing at!?” yelled the small stout man, making a sour face, “You bust into my mine, trampling through my delicate tunnels, like the rest of your bumbling folk… And then you laugh in my presence?! You should happy that I was kind enough to lead you to my home after watching you wander around for an hour!”

The small man was trying his best to talk down to Scoundrel, and if only he had a chair to stand on that could have been tall enough, he might have been able too. Sadly though, Scoundrel was a tough boy to intimidate, and the tiny man wasn’t making a good impression.

“Sorry,” said Scoundrel wiping the tears from his eyes, “But, you’re not the sort I’d expect to meet in the mine… What is your name anyways?”

“My name is Clenchneck. And what sort of people did you expect to find in this mine? Giants? I’ll tell you right now, there’s a reason us dwarves work in these mines!” the small man said, “By the way, what is the ridiculous ‘human name’ your parents came up for you!?”

“Wait, you’re a dwarf!?” asked Scoundrel

“What does it look like to you? What, do they pretend we don’t exist anymore up in the surface?’ the dwarf rolled his eyes, “Happens in every kingdom! Now, your name…”

“Well, my name is Scoundrel,” the boy began.

“Scoundrel!? I should’ve known not to trust strangers that wander into my mines! Empty your pockets boy, all the jewels in this cave areMINE! That’s why we call this place a ‘mine’ I believe…”

“I swear, I haven’t stolen anything!” said Scoundrel, “I know it sounds bad, but that’s what people call me on the surface.”

“Names like that aren’t just given without being earned,” the dwarf grumbled, “But, suppose that youAREN”Ta thief… What are you doing in these mines, eh?”

“Well, suppose again that I am…” said Scoundrel, “I’ve finally pillaged the wrong person…”

The dwarf raised an eyebrow, “You wouldn’t be suggesting you stole from old Blackneck, would you?”

Scoundrel’s face turned red. Now it was the dwarf’s turn to laugh.

“Ha!” the dwarf chuckled, “Stealing from the Ice King! You’re lucky you’re not a hunk of ice!”

“I’m lucky I’m not a hunk of ice YET…”

“What do you mean?” asked the dwarf curiously, “Are you telling me that you struck a deal with that old buzzard?”

Scoundrel sighed, “I am… I need help with something. I’m looking for history on Blackneck, and I found this locket on the mountain… It’s what led me to you…”

Scoundrel lifted the locket off his neck and began to hand it to the dwarf. As he did, he felt a pang of cold on his heart, but he ignored it.

The dwarf observed the piece of jewelry, while fumbling it around in his fingers.

“Heftyfoot….” Clenchneck whispered, with a twinge of sadness, “This piece of jewelry was forged long ago for the Ice King himself, ages before he ever went mad. We had our best man and chief, Heftyfoot, craft it for him… How did you get your hands on such a precious piece?”

“I found it around the neck of the Chief of the Wolves that terrorize the surface of the mountain.”

The dwarf began to weep, “Such a pity! Such a pity! It’s so sad to see how the world has fallen…”

Scoundrel patted the dwarf soothingly, “I need to know more about the history of the ice king… Could you tell me what happened to him?”

“It’s a long story…” said the dwarf, “A tale that I don’t wish to linger on… Us dwarves don’t even know the whole of the tale, we only know a few of the events that took place….”

The dwarf burst into tears again.

“What happened?” repeated Scoundrel with a concerned gaze.

The dwarf cleared his throat, “Well, if you must know, then I’ll tell you…. You see, us dwarves have special abilities when it comes to mining. So, when the kings of ‘The City of Gold; came into power, us dwarves were employed to mine out the mountain of Craggleback for them. It was a solid trade all in all… we dwarves got a place to sleep for mining out all the gold in the mountain for the kingdom. Many kings passed, but none seemed to appreciate us more than old Blackneck; who was then called King Henry.”

Scoundrel continued listening intently.

“The old King loved our works and was obsessed with obtaining our finest crafts. This pleased us dwarves, especially Heftyfoot, our leader. This was how King Henry eventually acquired this priceless locket. Heftyfoot toiled for days making it into perfection…

“However, suddenly, Queen Lucy, Henry’s wife, became ill. Everything changed. Nobody is quite sure how it happened, but even when the Queen recovered, the kingdom fell apart… The king completely shut himself out from us… After a while of this, Heftyfoot, who could no longer take the pain, died… The whole dwarf hive dissipated… Finally… the unspeakable happened!”

At this point the dwarf broke down into another sob.

“What happened!?” asked Scoundrel.

“It’s too painful. It’s better that you didn’t know anyways…”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I need answers!”

The dwarf looked deep into Scoundrel’s eyes, “You mightwantto know, but do you trulyneedan answer?”

Scoundrel was dumbfounded. He hadn’t expected such a reaction out of the poor creature, it wasn’t like anything he’d seen.

“I need it if I hope to still be alive tomorrow!”

The dwarf frowned, “Then you don’t deserve it. What good has ever come out of the life of the criminal like you…? Only a man with a true sense of sympathy could ever understand the pain that I’ve witnessed… the great treasures I’ve watched fade away… and even then…”

“You don’t understand!” cried Scoundrel.

“I believe it’s quite the opposite,” the dwarf said firmly.

The dwarf then tossed the locket back to Scoundrel, “Keep it. Unlike you, I don’t wish to take something that doesn’t belong to me.”

The dwarf kept his head hung to the ground. It couldn’t have been any clearer to Scoundrel that the small man’s heart was completely shattered. You have never seen such disappointment on a being, such a helpless look. Scoundrel almost pitied the dwarf, but he was also fuming at him. He was getting close to finishing the puzzle, he knew it! He just needed to learn more about what happened, and perhaps there would be the slightest of the chance that he could spare himself… and the rest of those wretched people in Blackneck too…

“Please, I’m begging you!” said Scoundrel, “I need this knowledge!”

“Well you’re not finding it here!” huffed the dwarf, “It’s not as if I know the full story myself!”

The dwarf stopped for a moment, glaring at the ground, when his eyes flared with a flash, in what Scoundrel could have sworn looked to be mischievous. But, once it had disappeared, all that was left visible on the dwarf’s face, was an expression of pure empathy. “But, I suppose that if you truly wish to find the answers you seek, there is one way you can get them… I might hate being intruded upon, but, Idohave sympathy for your predicament… Of course, the person I’m thinking of is not the sort yousteal answers from, rather, they’re the sort that steals answers from you… You might be better off trying to squeeze answers out of old Blackneck himself…”

“Tell me, I’ll do anything at this point! My time runs thin!”

“In the heart of the mountain there’s a dragon… ‘Smoke’ is what we used to call him… The nasty worm hoards all the remaining gold within the mountain, and hasn’t left his nest in centuries. Although, he’s better off that way, for he is missing a wing, and he has quite the grudge against the Ice King I wish I could tell you more, but anything about the history simply breaks me inside… A dwarf’s heart can only bear so much pain. I guess you could say that we’re funny that way… Like the rocks we mine, our hearts are as delicate as the finest stone. If too much a burden is placed upon it, it shatters and the shards splinter everything.”

The dwarf started sniffling again, and pulled a handkerchief out of the sooty overalls it wore. Trudging to a corner, he pulled a candle off the mantelpiece and gave it to Scoundrel.

“Here, I believe you’ll be needing this,” the dwarf said coolly, “Remember, the dragon is a crafty sort, and his eyes spread throughout the whole mountain. He’s bound to hear us even now. You’ll need to be careful navigating through these mines for, just as on the surface of this mountain, it is a great maze in which you must travel with great caution. If you fail to do so, you will surely find yourself circling amongst the rugged rocks aimlessly.”

“Isn’t there a sort of map I can take?” asked Scoundrel.

“Nay… I only have one map in this mountain to guide myself by, and without it, I’m forever lost. You must trek the cave alone without any guidance I’m afraid. I would accompany you, but I’m fear that it’s just much too risky of an endeavor for me to take.” Scoundrel thought he saw the dark flare pass through the dwarf’s eyes once again, but then resolved that it must only have been the light of the candle

Scoundrel was both offended and appalled by this. First the dwarf wouldn’t tell him the tale of Blackneck, and now he was sending him off with no direction?

Nevertheless, he walked over to the old dwarf and patted him on the back.

“Thanks for all the toil you’ve gone to for me,” Scoundrel told him. A quizzical look came across the dwarf’s face, for he couldn’t tell if the boy was sincere or sarcastic.

The boy exited the small cavern and disappeared into the pitch black hole before the dwarf could decide...

Chapter Nine

A Snake’s Salutations

If you thought that Scoundrel would have returned into that darkness so willingly, without aid, you’d be wrong. No, no, Scoundrel had a very clear perception of where he was going. Though his limbs had lost all feeling from the cold, and his eyes could see little, he had no doubt where he was headed.

“How did he do this?” you might be asking yourself

Well, Scoundrel hadn’t forgotten a bit of who he was when he was sitting in that small cave with the dwarf. While the dwarf was making him angrier and angrier, it drove Scoundrel to consult his normal nature; stealing the map. Yes, when Scoundrel went to pat the dwarf on the back to say his final goodbyes, he slipped the map right out of the dwarf’s back pocket.

Normally, Scoundrel might have been worried that the small thing would have overtaken him in the darkness, after all, this was the dwarf’s home. At this point however, even if the dwarf had been smart enough to check his pockets, Scoundrel was long gone. Going after the thief now would be a lost cause.

Scoundrel had already plotted his course through the mines and had a fixed point on his location. Judging by the scale of the map, it seemed that it would take him a while to navigate throughout the vast mines. This could certainly serve a problem in the future, but he could trouble over that later. Right now, he had to keep moving forward towards the dragon…

As Scoundrel continued walking through the dark cave, echoes matching his every step, he felt the ice on his heart grow colder and colder. By now, the crystal had spread across his whole chest and was now climbing up his neck and down his body. It was a disturbing sensation to be certain. Have you ever placed your hand in a bucket of fresh ice, or dived into newly fallen snow? Do you remember how the cold felt against your skin? The burning desire to rid yourself of its touch upon your skin? This is how Scoundrel felt, only it was much worse: the frigidness almost seemed to be growing on him. Every passing minute, it continued to gnaw away at his being; a constant reminder of how short his time was growing. Scoundrel feared what would happen once the ice reached his limbs. Although, the Ice King had made Scoundrel a deal; he wouldn’t dare interfere with the result of the bargain… Blackneck wouldn’t make it so that Scoundrel was left immobile and unable to carry out his mission, would he?

As much as Scoundrel liked to believe that the Ice King’s deal was a decent one, deep down he knew that it was not. The deal was as unjust as it could get. Even if Scoundreldidmanage to find proof of love, how was he to return to old Blackneck with it? Scoundrel had been putting this eerie thought to the side for quite a while, but now it was all too obvious: it was already midmorning, at the earliest, and he still had yet to come close to finding answers.

Perhaps it was simply because he was looking for answers in the wrong places, after all, what use did the history of the ice king really serve? Scoundrel knew in his mind that it didn’t seem to amount to much, but in his heart he felt something contrary. Maybe if he knew what happened to the ice king he’d be able to convince him that love was real. This decision that he’d made in the hermit’s hut was a longshot, and was almost sure for failure from what Scoundrel could tell. But, at the plan’s core, Scoundrel was trying the only route of which he was good at: stealing. Stealing the Ice King’s history...

Scoundrel lingered on these thoughts until he came across a large cliff in the mine. Out of it came a blast of heat, which was oddly out of place, considering the bitter cold surrounding it. Smelling the air, he began to gag. The air was shrouded in a dense layer of smoke.

“The dragon…” Scoundrel whispered.

The dragon was fathoms down to be sure, and Scoundrel still had a long way to go. But the stench of the monster was already beginning to surround him.

Scoundrel peered down into the empty black hole over the cliff, to see nothing. There was nothing at all but an empty darkness. This struck Scoundrel with surprise; he thought he’d at least see the dim orange light of the dragon’s fire illuminating from far below.

“Maybe it’s just being blocked out by a cloud of smoke I can’t see,” thought Scoundrel.

But, he had the feeling it was a lot more than just smoke. It was his hunch that the dragon was rooted into the mountain much further down than he’d ever imagined.

Scoundrel turned from the cliff and began correcting his path through the belly of the mountain. There was supposed to have been a bridge were the great precipice sat, but it looked that it had completely disappeared.

“It must have collapsed by old age…” Scoundrel reasoned. He wasn’t completely wrong… Yet to say that he was fully right would be a great lie.

Charting his course down a steep decline, his mouth began watering at the thought of all the gold the dragon must have kept in the mountain.

“The old worm hoards all the remaining gold in the mountain,” Scoundrel recalled the dwarf saying. He must have had mounds of it just piled up! However, Scoundrel knew he’d be an utter dimwit toeven lay a breath on it. He recalled with clarity the confrontation with Blackneck and knew with all his being that he wasn’t to mess with another king’s treasure again, even if it was only a dragon that had but one wing.

He began to notice that his candle started to flicker, and a cold chilling wind started to blow as he paced further inward. How the winter winds could have sustained their full strength in the midst of the dragon’s fervent breath was a mystery beyond what Scoundrel could answer. What he did know was that the winds made him feel both terribly alone and unsafe. He could already feel dozens of eyes could be felt boring trough his skull. While this feeling was probably only a product of imagination mixed with fear, at this point, nothing would surprise Scoundrel. After all, he’d been watched by the dwarf earlier without his noticing. How big of a stretch was it to believe that he was being followed again?

Scoundrel quickened his pace and run faster through the tunnel. If it was the dwarf, he didn’t want to be caught by it. While dwarfs might have good eyes in the dark, Scoundrel reasoned that as long as he ran fast enough, he wouldn’t have to worry about the dwarf’s stubby legs overtaking him.

Scoundrel’s plan wasn’t a smart one though, and he soon found himself slamming into a wall.

“Ouch!” moaned Scoundrel, rubbing himself off in pain.

Looking at his map, he didn’t see a wall anywhere. At least, if he was where he was supposed to be… It was quite possible that he’d gone off course, which might explain why he also hadn’t found a bridge.

Scoundrel was starting to sweat, even amidst the bitter cold that surrounded him. How would he be able to find his way through the mine now? It was quite the trouble to overcome, but he knew he’d have to make it through the mine somehow… He’d have to!

As Scoundrel sat rubbing his sores, he began to hear a quiet sharp sound ringing in his ear.

“Tee he he, tee he he,” it hissed.

Scoundrel recognize it as something quite out of place: laughter! Therewassomebody watching him in the darkness!

“Show yourself!” Scoundrel ordered, “What’s so funny?!”

He listened as the laugh hissed a while longer. Scoundrel was about to burst with impatience, when the laughter finally stilled, and an unearthly voice began to speak.

“I just find it funny,” the voice sizzled with such a tone that Scoundrel found his mouth left dry and himself drained of all confidence, “The way you run about through this mine in such a fright! It’s wonderfully entertaining, such a treat! Yes, ssssuch a treat…”

At the word ‘treat’ Scoundrel listened as the voice began smacking its lips and then watched as a pair of gleaming emerald circles appeared in the darkness. They left Scoundrel in a sort of trance and he felt himself nearly fall into a deep sleep.

“Yesss,” the voice hissed, “Ssssleep sssssoundly my ssssavory ssssnack!”

Scoundrel gawked in horror as a tremendous serpent wriggled out of the darkness… It was the dragon! A cloud of smoke that came out of its nostrils concealed most of its features, but Scoundrel still had no doubts.

“How—how--…” Scoundrel tried asking, but his voice faltered. Every breath of the smoke he inhaled only weakened him further.

“How did I find you?” finished the dragon, coiling its thick black neck around Scoundrel, “I could smell your reeking stench from miles away! Do you really think I would let a human that bears the mark of the ice king pass through my caves freely?”

The dragon then puffed another fat cloud of smoke into Scoundrel’s face.

The beast opened its mouth full of fangs and continued, “I’ve been watching you for a while my boy! Or should I say ‘Scoundrel’… Nice name, you must have such an easssy time finding a proper profession for yourself… I mean, you might as well wear a sssign around your chest that sssays ‘arrest me’!”

Scoundrel let out a muffled groan as the dragon tightened itself around Scoundrel’s body. “It won’t be much longer now,” the beast smiled, letting out a spark of fire-breath, “Your bones are very sssstrongyou know, even if you have a wiry frame and no treasure at all… Who feeds you? On another note, your body is dreadfully cold… but, I can sssstill take care of that with my breath I sssssuppose...”

Scoundrel was terrified. Everything had all happened so fast, and he found himself in a struggle to keep consciousness.

“Let me go!” he tried to say. But his body had lost all control, the only thing he still had power over now was his eyes. He could only manage a shrill muffled shriek.

“What was that?” the dragon chuckled, “Oh well, I sssuppose that if you’ll be grumbling about this in my stomach, or outside of it, I might as well have the pleasure of devouring you.”

“No stop!” Scoundrel managed to croak.

To his amazement, the dragon refrained. It looked quite taken back.

“Nobody has ever broken free of my poisonous vapor before,” the dragon lamented quietly, “Nobody…”

“Let… Me… Go!” said Scoundrel.

“Oh alright,” said the dragon with a devious gleam in his eye, spotting the locket around Scoundrel’s neck, “Any friend of the Ice King’s is a friend of mine! Because of your mark you’ll get special treatment… For now…”

Scoundrel knew that he couldn’t trust the old snake. Yet, he also knew that he had to play his charade if he planned on surviving.

“Blast that warthog of a dwarf! He sent me here to die!” Scoundrel thought to himself.

“What’s wrong? Why so quiet?” the Dragon asked, after letting Scoundrel regain his breath, “I know how to lighten your spirit! How about we play a game? All little boys like games, now don’t they?”

Cautiously, Scoundrel nodded his head. He knew quite clearly that this dragon would stop at nothing to kill him in the most devious way. Yet, perhaps he could manipulate this new notion the dragon raised.

“What sort of game?” asked Scoundrel clapping his hands together and putting on a fake smile.

The dragon smiled back too, and his large round eyes lit up in a dark flare. “Well, you have no gold or jewels to give me and your clothes may as well be garbage… hmm… I know! Entertainment!”

This began to fill Scoundrel with unease.

“You sssee, there’s nothing I find more entertaining than the look of pure despair in a creature’s eyes,” the dragon said, quickly clamping its teeth together, “Ssso, I’m going to place a little bet with you… You’re going to confront your greatest fear! If you lose, and fail to do ssso, you’ll be my sssnack! If I lose, I’ll… umm… I’ll ssspare you!”

“No! You’ll tell me the history of the ice king! I’m not wrong in believing that you’re the only one that can tell me his history, correct?

“No, not wrong at all my dear boy! Yess, if that is your true wish, then I’ll give it to you child! If you win that is… Now, what is your greatest fear?”

The dragon began scanning Scoundrel’s eyes, “Hmm… Yes… I sssee… Your heart is like a locked chest young lad! Tightly bound and hidden from sight. So, what I want from you is your true history… Yes… That would bring me sssuch a delight! Oh, great ‘Ssscoundrel’ what sort of feeble person are you under your false mask? I’m not sure, but I’d love to know!”

Scoundrel was stupefied. He’d never expected the snake to ask him such a thing! At first Scoundrel felt like laughing, how hard would it be to tell the old dragon the tale of his past? Surely he wasn’t scared of such a silly thing! But then Scoundrel realized just how much of a chore doing so really would be… He feared telling people of his past, and ultimately avoided it altogether. After all, letting the people of Blackneck believe he was a mischievous imp, or whatever tall tale they came up with, was much better than exposing his story. And now he was to reveal himself to the most intimidating creature he’d met?! It was true that the beast was anything but afraid of Scoundrel, but still… Sacrificing his history would be sacrificing a great deal of his confidence, and his identity! He thrived on his secrecy, the mysterious veil he placed around himself!

“And if I tell you this, you will spare me and tell the history of Blackneck?” inquired Scoundrel carefully mapping out his words.

“I will tell you the story of Blackneck,onlyif you tell me your story full and true,” said the Dragon with a nasty smile, “I can sense a lie from a mile away, so don’t try testing me. I wouldn’t be surprised if you did though, those nasty little fibs cover you from head to toe. Your people are right in calling you ‘Scoundrel’! Yet they’re wrong at the same time… Yes, the name Scoundrel really does fit you, now doesn’t it? A shame that it can’t be your true birth name… No, that name can only befit a person that has earned the title…”

“How do you know so much about me?”

“You should be asking how you know so little about yourself… yes, I sense that evenyouhave yourself fooled by your lies! I know, because I can read your heart… Hearts are funny things you know… They’re like a type of gem. No, theyarea type of gem. I know, because I’ve dwelt in mounds of gems all my life, and I’ve learned how to spot even the tiniest flaw in each one. I do the same with hearts, they are no different in my eyes.”

Scoundrel’s bones quaked. It was true that his body was still recovering from the dragon’s smothering, but his bones throttled and shook for a different reason: pure terror. This ancient reptile seemed to know everything about him! While the demon could spot every chink in Scoundrel’s thin layer of armor, Scoundrel himself could spot none in the monster’s scaly shell. For the first time, he truly felt helpless. There were no other options for himself but surrender, an action Scoundrel loathed.

Scoundrel let out a huff of defeat, “I will submit to the terms of our agreement.”

The dragon grinned. “Good!” he cried flapping his lone wing about, “We shall begin now!”

At the word ‘now’ the dragon shot a burst of fire out of its gaping mouth. Scoundrel watched awestruck, and the dragon laughed looking upon the boy’s timid face.

Stammering, Scoundrel struggled to begin, “So—so… Where would you like the story to start?”

“At the very beginning, when you were at your most fragile state… Your infancy!” the creature said pulling itself behind a curtain of smoke, “I want all of your most vivid memories, from the time of your entry into this accursed world, to the present time we now sit in.”

“Alright then,” said Scoundrel turning his gaze to the ground. He now wished he’d never agreed to the deal proposed by the dragon. Of course, he also knew that there wasn’t much that could be done about it. He’d already made one deal he doubted he’d be able to keep, he wasn’t going to have two.

Chapter Ten

Confessions

In the cold dark damp of that cave, alone with the devilish dragon, Scoundrel reluctantly started leaking his darkest secrets…

“I was born to two loving parents down in the humble town of Blackneck,” Scoundrel began, “Or so I remember. I was very young when they passed away. I do remember this though; I was born with quite a different name from Scoundrel…”

“And by what name were you born with?” asked the dragon meticulously.

“Joshua,” said Scoundrel, “I stopped being called by that name though when my parents disappeared venturing up into the mountain… It was a cold winter that year, and they were headed there forfirewood… they never came back…”

Scoundrel stopped and began staring stone-faced into the cloud of smoke that obscured the cave.

“Ssso very sssad…” the malicious dragon said clicking his iron teeth with his double-edged tongue, “Poor poor boy… I’m dreadfully sssorry to hear that. I wish that I had been there to mend your wounds.”

The voice of the dragon was soothing like a comforting mother and was all too convincing. Yet, Scoundrel was still able to read past the creature’s words and found them as hollow as the cave he sat in.

“I was left alone after that…” Scoundrel continued, “From what I can remember, the rest of the winter was a struggle. I was cold, hungry and restless. I spent that whole season waiting for them to return… Days passed of me eagerly awaiting their comforting knock at the door. Yet, no sound ever passed my doorstep, save the howling of the wind.

“Nobody seemed to notice the disappearance of my parents, nor remember my existence. Being much younger at the time, around the age of five, I had no idea of who to turn to. When peopledidcome, they only came for the business of trading with my parents. I was very shy at the time, and always hid from their sight, so when they came, they always found the house empty. Soon, the rumor that spread throughout the town was that I and my family had left town. With landowners thinking the house was abandoned, my house soon started going up for auctions. Yet, eventually nobody wanted it, when rumors began to spread that the house was haunted. People could hear me in the house throughout the night, wailing at the absence of my parents. I was weak then, much too weak, but it seemed that my weakness paid off in those days. The house was boarded up by the leaders of the town, and abandoned. All the while, I sat in the house hiding and fending for my life. In the beginning, there had been enough food stored in the house to satisfy the appetite of even a lion. My parents had always kept a surplus of food stored during the bitter winter months. Yet, as time passed, the supply I had decreased, and I found myself rationing out the food I had to the smallest portions. Finally, as I grew hungrier and hungrier, I resorted to having to steal my food… I had to learn to adapt to the rest of the harsh world…”

The dragon started laughing uncontrollably, “And this, I presume, is how you came to be a thief?”

Looking to the ground, Scoundrel nodded, “It was probably the most foolish of choices, but that is what I came to. As I grew older, I continued to grow better at this trade, bringing myself to steal more lavish pieces. Of course, you can’t be a successful thief without being caught in the act a few times. While continuing to grow in skill, people continued seeing who I was. Over time, my name was widespread throughout Blackneck, and people came to know me as ‘Scoundrel’, the great thief of Blackneck. They claimed I was the ghost of a mischievous child that had once been, or a dwarf that had found its way out of the mountain. Legends of my feats were raised on platforms, and were told throughout the town by bards, while people listened with wonder. But…”

Scoundrel wanted to keep speaking, but he’d finally faltered.

“But what!?” growled the gravelly voice of the dragon, “You are feared by all people, practically worshipped for your feats of mischief, and you’ve left a stamp on the town that will never be forgotten. You have become a legend my boy! The story of your life will become immortal!”

“But is it truly living?” Scoundrel thought to himself. He’d always avoided the guilt in his heart, but now it was overwhelming. The greater portion of his life had been spent groveling, hiding, and scheming in the darkness. He had lived, perhaps thrived even, with this way of life… But, it seemed to have proven empty…

“Well, go on!” the dragon blasted.

Scoundrel quaked, and continued, “But… But… But then I took a step too far. I crossed paths with the lumberjacks of my town when I stole their firewood. I should have known better than to meddle with them, but I ignored my better discernment. Soon the lumberjacks were after me. They tracked me down to my abandoned shack and they managed to overwhelm me…”

Scoundrel then proceeded to tell the dragon all the events that had taken place since then, leading tothe point in which he reached the dragon. Although he was reluctant, he described his whole journey with great detail. All the while, the dragon, ever so crafty, would wedge himself in the middle of Scoundrel’s monologue and would make a nasty remark. Scoundrel’s long narrative finally finished out after what seemed like a solid hour.

“Bravo!” exclaimed the dragon, once the story had finished, seeming all too eager for it to be over. “Sssuch a wonderful tale! Sssuch a wonderful tale! It’s a shame it had to end here in my shabby dust heap.”

Scoundrel cringed, “You’re still going to finish out your side of the bargain, correct?”

“Why of course! What sssort of lying wretch do you mistake me for?” the dragon said, slithering eerily through the darkness, “Your tale was sssuch a beauty! The ssscared look on your face was priceless! It’s also nice to know sssome more about you, my cherished guest.”

“Well, are you going to begin now or what? From my tale, I’m sure you know all too well that my time is fading, and I’ll need to move much faster if I ever plan on surviving.”

“Of course! Of course! You need me to tell you the history of the ice king? I’ll tell it to you! But, I warn you, it is a grim tale, and I wish I had little part in it.”

Scoundrel nodded his head, “I’m prepared.”

The dragon spurted a cloud of fire within the smog. “Alright then. I’ll begin my turn”

“As you may already know from what you’ve been told, the ‘City of Gold’, as it was known, had become very wealthy under the rule of Queen Lucy and King Henry. Their city was united, their armies were at peace, and their fields flourished with fruit. In all respects, their kingdom was ‘golden’. Of course, the one trade off about having a golden kingdom is that, well… They’re very alluring to us dragons. You ssee, we ssscour the earth searching for riches and wealth to plunder and hoard. There’s nothing that sssatisfies a dragon more than having a nice cold mountain of rock and metal to sleep on for the rest of eternity. Yet, achieving such a task is never easy. No, to be as lucky of a dragon as me, you truly have to earn your wealth. Thankfully, before any of the other brutish dragons could claim the ‘City of Gold’ as their own, I took it by ssstorm. I sent down rains of fire on their homes and rooted up their fields. I tore apart their greatest knights and warriors with nothing but my thundering voice. There were none that could stop me, none at all… Until their king came at me. He was a dashing young fellow, with great strength in his stride. He stood tall like none of the others against me, and he had not an ounce of fear in his eye… Yet he had no reason to come at me with such a confidence! He had not a piece of gleaming armor on him! He came to me stripped of all his robes and glory, save his own intimidating presence. Something about this drained me, and I fell to the ground. Not before biting his Queen though with my venomous jaw, who was spectating at the time. The fair maiden hadn’t even seen it coming! Her face went pale, and she fell to the ground, ill of my poison. Ha, the look of despair that filled the poor man’s eyes! I could see him crumbling inside, shriveling! He was more ill than his wife! After that, I flew off, retreating into the mines. The dwarves were weak and failed to stop me from entering, so, I took the place for my own.”

“Wait!” said Scoundrel, “You’re the reason the Queen fell deathly ill!?”

“Why of course!” said the dragon with a sly smile, “How else could such a thing have happened? However, from what I can tell, the king never wanted anybody to know that. He let everybody believe it was simply a sudden sickness, a virus. Nobody could know that the Queen had become sick out of his weakness. Nobody could know that the king had failed to stop me.”

Scoundrel was fuming. This beast must have been the reason of his suffering! No, he was the reason of the suffering for the whole town!

“Now, now,” the dragon cooed, seeing Scoundrel’s anger, “It wasnotmy fault that the kingdom fell to pieces after this. No, it was because of the king. That imbecile has caused suffering to all the things that live under this mountain! And by his own choice!”

“And how is that?” asked Scoundrel raising an eyebrow.

Chapter Eleven

The Story of the Serpent

“Well, as you claim the old woman told you, King Henry made an ascent in the mountain for the Wizard Craggleback, of the warm winds, for a cure. It seemed that he just couldn’t live with the possibility of letting the Queen die because of his own failure. After all, everybody knows that attempting such an endeavor is complete stupidity. However, what else could he do?

“Once the news of this reached my sharp ears, I flew off to ensure he didn’t succeed. I couldn’t let him triumph in his effort. Although, to my despair, when I found him, it was much too late. But it seemed that it wasn’t what I feared either. You see, King Henry had made a deal with the wizard to give up something he’d loved greatly for the cure of his wife, and the king decided upon giving up the horse he rode. I’m not sure what the horse had to do with anything, but nevertheless, the wizard accepted it and proceeded to make the cure in a phial. Before giving his ‘magical’ mixture to the king, the wizard warned him strongly against using it, but Henry ignored him. I believe I recall the wizard saying there was something addictive about it, something that was ultimately destructive yet he might as well have been mute, for King Henry seem to care, and he started descending down the mountain, to his wife, without another word. If I recall correctly, and I’m certain that I do, the King ended up healing his wife with the phial that very day. Kneeling at her bed, the king spooned the elixir into her mouth. It worked like magic (because it was) and the Queen arose instantly. At first, the queen stood tall with a radiant smile and embraced the king. However, when she saw the phial, her face fell. She moaned with distress and demanded to know where Henry got it. But the king refused to answer her, and immediately a rift came between them. It was subtle, but I could still smell it in the air. In the midst of this excitement, I was hiding outside the castle window, watching them.

“The kingdom went on to rejoice in the welfare of the Queen and Lucy seemed to forgive Henry for his secrets. For a while, all seemed to be well. But you would have been a fool to believe that it really was. Throughout the night, I would sometimes spy on Henry as he slept. It would have been so easy to end him, then and there, but I found too much joy in watching him suffer. I stared eagerly while I witnessed him tossing and turning restlessly in his sleep. His face went pale at even the soft sound of a mouse scurrying across his marble floor. He was a wreck, and we both knew it. The truth was, he still feared me. He might have saved his beloved once, but how long would it last? In the night, while all his strongest men slept, I was roaming about freely through his kingdom. The only answer to ending his fear was the event of my death, and we both knew it.

“One night, I came to his room, and I found Henry calmly asleep in his chambers. It had been months since I’d seen him so peaceful, and I knew something was wrong. I undid his covers, and sure enough, it was not Henry at all: he had stuffed his sheets with pillows. It was at that moment that it dawned on me; the man must have gone back to the wizard for a way to stop me. I rushed out of the castle like a whip and flew towards the Peak of Craggleback Mountain. If I failed to stop him, I’d surely be doomed! And sure enough, once I reached the peak, I was once again too late. King Henry was already within the sacred home of the wizard, making a deal with him. It seemed that he was trading all his finest gems and robes for the power to be able to stop me. Yes, he wished for the wizard to bequeath him the power of a thousand warriors, as well as immortality. I was horrified. Yet there was little I could do to the nasty filth…

“The wizard said he’d have to freeze a portion of Henry’s heart to grant his wish and went on to caution, just as he did before, that it was a foolish mistake. Yet, Henry responded indignantly, claimingthat it was be the only way he’d be able to protect his wife. He believed that it would make up for the weakness he’d lived out in the past.

“So, the wizard gave him his wish. Before I knew what was happening, the man had broken out of the wizard’s hut and, seeing that I had been spying on him the whole time, he began attacking me. I shot bursts of fire at him in response, but to no avail. The ice on his heart seemed to be able to counter anything I could bring upon him. I soon found myself swirling down into a hopeless battle in which I was only being led further and further towards my ultimate doom. I knew that Henry planned to kill me, the little beast, and I believe he was aware I knew that as well. He definitely wasn’t trying to hide anything from me. Back and forth we thrashed about, fighting more and more violently. Never in my life have I met a creature that was as strong as him, I felt that I was being swung about like a kite. Soon enough, he had me down on the ground, and he prepared to make the final blow. But I caught something in his eye, conviction. Contrary to my earlier beliefs during the fight, he hadn’t been wrestling me to give me a false hope of survival after all. No, he had beenholding back! In truth, he didn’t have it in himself to kill me. So, in the middle of his struggle against his own will, I threw him off me, and began to fly away. Before I could though, Henry grasped at my mighty wing, and, with a tear, he ripped it off of me. My body flooded with pain, and, with only one wing, I could no longer fly. So, after falling to the ground, I slithered through the snow as fast as I could, before arriving at my humble home in the mines to find rest on my heap of gold. I’ve never forgiven Henry for that encounter, for my scars… Dragons never forgive a man for a wound they give him. I would have killed Henry for what he did to me, but, he got his wish: he had proven much too strong for even me, and I could no longer face him. I almost felt pride in what I had molded him into, yet, at the same time, I held a sense of dread. Henry had the power to storm my mines and overtake me any time he liked. I knew he’d never dare do such a thing, but still… It is not healthy for the dragon to be the one cowering in a fight…

“Despite all this, I still found a way to smother my fears, and I sat about in the darkness awaiting Henry’s arrival. It never came though. Above the mountain, in the castle, great parades and celebrations were held when news came to them that Henry had finally vanquished me. It wasn’t the full truth, yet people still believed Henry, and they hung great banners and tapestries along the castle walls declaring his victory. Even now, if you ever go to the castle ruins that are rooted in the mountain, you will still find those tapestries hanging along the walls…”

“The castle ruins are in this mountain?” asked Scoundrel.

“Of course,” hissed the dragon, “How else could I have spied on Henry so easily? As I was saying… The kingdom rejoiced and Henry was exalted even further than ever before. It once again began flourishing, and both Henry and Lucy lived together peacefully ‘happily ever after’… At least, this is what everybody believed. Years passed, and, every so often, Lucy would notice something was amiss. Perhaps it was the undying, yet ever anxious energy, Henry seemed to have, or his constant success on the field of battle… Maybe it was the fact that, while she seemed to age, Henry never did. Over the years, Queen Lucy would grow older, but Henry was as young as ever. It didn’t help matters that Henry started to grow distant. On late summer afternoons, when the king and his queen went on the golden walks through the sunset that they cherished, Henry would sometimes never say a word, and he had even wandered away from Lucy a few times, claiming he needed a ‘breath of fresh air’. Something was eating away at him, and both I and Lucy could sense it. I personally had hoped that maybe Henry wasn’t as invincible as he seemed, that he was ill. But, unfortunately, as I prowled after him in the shadows, I found out quite the opposite; he was fearing his own immortality. While Lucy was fading, like a blossom in the last days of summer, Henry stood as strong as ever. He had begun fearing a life without her. Lucy eventually would be gone from him, while he’d be cursed to live on this wretched earth forever. How was he to solve this? After long thought, I heard him whisper to himself when he finally came to a conclusion: he’d have to reverse the spell he had the wizard put on him. I rejoiced at these words, but if only I had known what would come later…

“Henry once again scaled the mighty Craggleback Mountain for the wizard. After he’d reached the hut, he asked Craggleback to reverse the spell he’d placed upon him. I awaited eagerly in the darkness, but, sadly, the wizard said he was unable to do so. He stated that only a great love, pure and true, could reverse the effects of his spells. I myself thought this was plain ridiculous, but it seemed that Henry believed the wizard. However, he was no less distressed than I was. He began pacing around the hut’s worn wooden floor questioning what to do next… When he finally asked a question that would change the course of history…

“I recall him asking with a desperate gleam in his eye, ‘Is there any way you could preserve my wife, to give her the same immortality that curses me?’

“I remember how crestfallen the wizard looked when Henry asked him this question. He dodged it, he warned against it, and he said it was a danger beyond anything Henry had meddled with before. Yet, Henry persisted, once again ignoring everything the wizard uttered. Henry ordered Craggleback to give Lucy immortality on the spot, yet the wizard said it couldn’t be done. He said that Queen Lucy had no wish in her heart for an immortal life in this world. This made Henry wild with rage, and he began overturning tables, and pounding at the walls for answers. The wizard collapsed at this spectacle, he wasn’t used to such violence. With a trembling tone, that both thrilled and shriveled my spirit, the wizard finally told him that there was one way that he could preserve Queen Lucy, while it was a decision he would regret for eternity. He would have to freeze her completely. For a moment, Henry was hesitant about this proposal, but then he moved hastier than a hare to accept it. He demanded that the wizard gave him the authority over the wind, cold and ice, in order to do so. The wizard had Henry give him something he loved in order to complete his wish. I watched as Henry slowly offered the wizard the very object he seemed to treasure the most, almost as much as his wife; it was a heart shaped locket, carved and mined from the careful hands of the dwarves. This certain locket had been given to Henry as a gift from Lucy, while Henry had given Lucy a similar one. This, in a way, was supposed to have represented their ‘strong bond’ with one another. While I’m certain that they simply fooled themselves with these lockets (how could they give such beauties willingly?), I could tell that it meant much to Henry. His hands fumbled about and shook violently as they steadily lowered the fine piece into the wizard’s hands. I could hardly believe what I was seeing, but it was all too apparent: King Henry was about to gain a power beyond anything I’d encountered, and I would have no way to stop him. I was completely helpless, forced to watch anxiously as the trade was dealt and the power was given. Yet, worse was still yet to come…

“With a blast of wind Henry stormed out of the wizard’s hut and down towards his castle below. He had already began mastering his abilities, and while I lurked about under the covering of the snow, he flew high in the sky, riding peacefully in the lofty current of the air. I envied him, the little troll. I deserved the power he had, the authority over all of winter! The strength and authority I once had now seemed meagre compared to the influence Henry now bore.

“‘There’s no reason to fear,’ I remember telling myself, ‘He doesn’t have it in him to attempt to kill you, or anyone else. No reason to fear at all.’ I couldn’t have been more wrong though! Ha! If only I had known what was to come!”

Chapter Twelve

Meeting the End

After letting those words hang in the air for a while, the dragon continued his tale, “When King Henry arrived at his castle, he stormed straight towards Lucy. For a moment, she was struck with an incredible fear, and I could see pure terror filling her eyes. But then, I saw her figure grow calm and stern.

“‘What are you doing Henry?’ I recall her saying sternly.

“For a while, Henry didn’t answer. He stood stone-faced. Finally, his voice came out of the wind, shrill and harsh, ‘I’m here to preserve you from the harsh cruelties of this world.’

“I grinned while I watched Lucy’s eyes well up with tears, ‘This isn’t you,’ she said, ‘You don’t have to do this.’

“Yet Henry showed no sympathy or response. Then, he proceeded to start blasting ice onto Lucy. I watched as she fell deeper and deeper into a wall of freezing crystals, but not before she did something quite admirable that took me aback. Even in the midst of Henry’s injustice, Lucy pulled Henry’s neck towards herself, giving him a kiss, as well as her locket. Her words were very faint at the moment, yet, to my surprise, they’re one of the few things I can still remember clearly from the scene now…

“‘I give you this,’ she told him, ‘In hopes that you can remember the great man you once were and the love we once shared.’

“She handed him her locket, while the ice king began howling with pain, and I watched as a burn formed on his neck where Lucy had kissed him. The event still puzzles me to this day, such a thing shouldn’t have harmed him... Yet it did. The ice king then sealed an icy glaze over his body in hopes to soothe the wound, but to no avail: instead he created a fleshy black scar on his neck that can be seen to this day. Screaming in the sharpness of the sting, he returned to his work with Lucy, until he was finished. His result was a polished ice statue of Lucy. For a moment Henry took pride in his achievement, even marveled at it. On his frozen face, his lips steadily moved into something reminiscent of a smile. I read his heart and saw it flooded with an overwhelming joy… Until he came into the full realization of what he’d done.

“Lucy was frozen as ice, and was as dead as a rock. Henry looked as though he was about to break down into a puddle of tears after coming into this revelation. There might have still been life within the icy shell he’d cursed her to, but what consolation was that? He had ended the one thing left that he truly loved, and his heart paid dearly for it. There was no way he could reverse what he’d done. So he sat for a moment, the longest I’d seen him sit still ever since I’d started afflicting him. As I watched his eyes, they started to well up with tears. I smiled for the first time in ages, seeing his weakness, but then the tears froze. He remained completely still, completely unshaken. Then, with a sudden jerk of his wrist, he burst a wall of his castle open with the wind. I found myself tumbling down into a pile of rubble, as the king flew towards the height of the mountain with his porcelain wife. Under the mound of bricks and ash, I couldn’t see what he had done. Though, to the residents of the town below, the dark lair of the ice king could be seen taking on its warped form in the peaks of the Craggleback Mountain. After this, Henry, now the ‘Ice King’ took rein over the force of cold, using it to torment the innocents that dwelt below each winter. He became known to the residents of the mountain below as Blackneck, for the dark scar that he bore across his neck. When their great kingdom fell apart into disarray, they even renamed it after him. Some said it was to shun him, since the destruction of the town was his fault and others said it was to please and hopefully gain mercy from him…”

“Did he ever seek the wizard’s aid?” Scoundrel asked.

“That’s the funny thing about wizards... Henry never could find him after that! It was as if the wizard had completely disappeared from existence! It was probably better off that way for the wizard, because the boiling rage of the Ice King is one you want to avoid… But, for the people below, that action of cowardice has cost us more than a century of pure torture…!”

“Is there any way Queen Lucy can be healed?” beckoned the boy, “I need this answer badly, and nobody else iscleverenough… I think she might be my only chance.” Scoundrel emphasized the wordclever, hoping to appeal to the dragon’s prideful nature.

“That I do… That I do…” the dragon grinded, “I believe that the answer lies in a certain… JEWEL!”

The dragon made a sudden dive at the locket hung around Scoundrel’s neck.

“What are you doing!?” Scoundrel cried as he went flying on his back. Wincing at the aching pain, he began narrowly dodging the crude claws of the dragon while they jabbed at his chest. “You promised you would spare me! We had an agreement!”

The dragon let out a low haughty laugh as it lunged towards Scoundrel’s body, letting out spurts of fire as it went. “Really? Because I recall quite a different deal… Did you not ask me to tell you the tale of the ice king instead? That’s how I remember it, and a dragon always has a perfect memory…”

Scoundrel was horrified. He had never thought that the dragon would backstab him so abruptly, or at such a risk. “You’re a lunatic! Perhaps I made an error in our deal, but don’t you remember my tale?! If you kill me, everything under the face of the mountain will die, along with you!”

“Call me what you will, lunatic or not, it’s all the same to me. Either way, I don’t fear death, because it just so happens that I left a significant detail out of my story… The Ice King does not possess the power to freeze a whole region to the point of death. He has limitations to his abilities, given by the wizard that he cannot cross. If he were to freeze all of Blackneck, he too would die along with it!”

The dragon flung Scoundrel into a wall with a mighty thrust. Letting out a thin howl, Scoundrel limped through the darkness hoping to escape the dragon’s vision.

“I believe you’re gravely mistaken, oh great and mighty ‘Smoke’! The Ice King wouldn’t make threats he couldn’t dish out, I’ve learned that all too well… He’s going to freeze the mountain and everything under it!”

“When did I ever say that he wasn’t going to follow through with his promise? What I’m saying is this: unless you can prove to old Blackneck that there’s such a thing as love in this world, he truly has no reason to live. He has no purpose, and he knows this all too well!”

Scoundrel’s lungs burned as he started racing through the tunnel, pumping his limbs as hard as he could to escape the dragon’s pursuit. “What are you getting at you blasted snake?!”

“I can’t believe you still haven’t figured it out yet… you must be an imbecile! He is going to rid himself of his wretched life! Yet, that isn’t even the best part… The old man can’t killmewith ice! No, the fires that boil within my bowels are more than enough to shield myself from his icy wrath! Once I rid myself of your life, and your precious locket, I’ll finally have my victory against Henry. I’ll finally quench the thirst of vengeance that has burned within me for over a century!” The dragon’s eyes were lit up like a flame on a newly oiled lamp, the blazing fire licking up every inch.

All the while, Scoundrel’s mind raced frantically, trying to plot a way out of under the Dragon’s dark gaze. He had meant for his conversation to distract the dragon while he found means of escape, but ever since he’d put the plan into action, it had only fueled the strength of the slithering demon. So, for a while Scoundrel forced himself to keep his mouth quiet, as much of a struggle as it was when the dragon was endlessly taunting him.

While the dragon laughed ever more haughtily, Scoundrel formed a plan within a heartbeat (well, more like eight heartbeats, since his heart was racing). With a sharp twist, he started pumping his limbs towards where he thought the collapsed bridge had been. The dragon was startled, but, since he couldn’t explain the strange act, even in his own sharp clever mind, he pushed it aside.

“So, you’ve finally decided to shut your daft mouth?” the dragon cried, with a hint of unease, “It’s quite the relief really, I’ve grown rather tired of having to put up with your ssickening ssspeech impediment."

“Actually, I do have a few words I want to share with you… What do you hope to achieve once you’re king of the mountain...? If you happen to survive, that is…”

“Surely you don’t take me as such a buffoon as to not even recognize my own goals, do you? You see, what I’ve truly learned through life is that if you wish for satisfaction, you must get your cost’s worth. To live a life where you don’t push to make things even, you’ll find yourself cheated and robbed. This crude corrupted world is full of cheaters and liars, they’re all trying to shovel you out ofunder their feet to pave their way to the top. It pays to be one yourself, for such is the only path to success. You of all people should know that!

“Vengeance and personal pleasures are the things of a full and satisfied life, not the petty pursuit of love… That’s where Henry went wrong, oh so terribly wrong… Once you accept that all too important truth, you’ll find your life much fuller… Once you accept that, you’ll understand the wisdom to my glorious success! Look around you, you’ll see the great fruits of my labor covering the grand walls of my gem-speckled castle!”

In contrast to the dragon’s proud statement, the walls were shrouded in darkness and smoke, Scoundrel couldn’t see a thing. Perhaps there were gems galore, but in the darkness the dragon dwelt in, it might as well have been empty.

“I see, you have quite the trove,” Scoundrel said, emphasizing as much sarcasm into his words as he could.

Scoundrel sprinted towards the edge of the cliff faster than a squirrel, skidding to a stop on its edge. At that moment, the dragon pounced towards Scoundrel at full force, attempting to knock him off his feet. However, as the Dragon launched himself into midair, Scoundrel lurched out of the beast’s way, leaving the dragon to fall into the bottomless abyss below.

“NOOO!!!” the dragon cried with fear.

The dark creature flapped his one wing violently in hope to prevent the plummet, but it was all in vain. The wing pushed the dragon further right, even closer to the hole. Yet, just before the creature fell in, he snatched at Scoundrel’s garments tearing away the locket from Scoundrel’s chest. Clawing at the sides of the cliff with all his might, they gave way, leaving the dragon to the craggy spires protruding out of the ground fathoms below.

All this took place within mere moments, and the locket had been torn from Scoundrel before he could even bat a lash. The second the boy felt the cold weight of the golden chain flee from his neck, he jerked towards the cliff groping for the chain in the darkness. He knew it was hopeless, but it had all happened so fast, that he didn’t give himself time to act rationally. When the adrenaline pulsing through his body had finally died down, Scoundrel found himself teetering over the edge of the abyss, watching the jewel plummet below with the fiery eyes of the dragon.

“No… This can’t be happening…” Scoundrel managed to choke. He was on the verge of collapsing. His whole journey had gone terribly wrong since the start, when would the adversities let up?

Yet, the pure shock of trepidation flooding Scoundrel’s body only grew more overwhelming. For, before the eyes had finally faded into the darkness, Scoundrel heard the dragon utter a few short words that left a biting shiver down Scoundrel’s spine.

“I will have my vengeance boy…” the burning voice crackled, before being smothered by the pitch black of the hole.

Scoundrel’s eyes grew ever wider with fear, as he listened to the dragon’s disdainful laugh echo off the cavern walls. The dragon may have been gone, yet he left a mark ringing in Scoundrel’s ears that preached of his return. He could already feel the burning pain of the dragon’s breath toasting him to a crisp. The crude claws climbing up his throat…

The chilling pain of the ice on Scoundrel’s heart began stinging him all the more when he realized something much worse than the morbid thoughts that already filled his head. The very last memory of the ice king’s wife, one of the most precious and dearest things to Blackneck, had vanished into the possession of a wicked hoarder. A twinge of agony harassed his conscience as images of the frozen Queen flew by. She had been practically dead to the world for over a century, and the same for her lover. Feelings of pity for the emotionless statue that now lived in freezing solitary ate away at Scoundrel’s soul. It was true that Scoundrel’s life was charged an unjust debt from the Ice King. It was true that that the man would be willing to kill the whole town of Blackneck, just so that he could relieve himself of the misery in living. Despite all this, Scoundrel shared an understanding with the devastated soul. The ice king might have had the grandeur of a great palace, fathomless power, and amass of riches that would make a king possessing all the wealth of the earth combined, envious. Yet, Scoundrel knew all too well how deafening the sound of silence truly was… All the riches in the world couldn’t pay for even the voice of one you cherish dearly, calling out to you. Giving away his own past had revealed this all to him… Though the encounter with the dragon might have cost him a great deal of his security, maybe… Just maybe… his eyes had been opened a bit more… If only he could be certain he’d live another day to put his lessons to the test!

Chapter Thirteen

Riddles of the Heart

He’d been wandering through the mines for what felt like a half hour, and Scoundrel still hadn’t managed to recognize where he was, let alone find a way out. Not for the first time that day, he felt the pressing strain of his time limit laden on him. From the darkness of the mines, he couldn’t quite tell what time it was but Scoundrel knew that whatever time he had left was nearly drained. It had to be past noon at this point. It was apparent that he’d have to quicken his pace, but the icy weight on his chest pulled down on him, like an anchor. His body was aching from the toll put on it, he felt he couldn’t put up with the tension much longer.

If only Scoundrel still had his map and candle, but they had been burnt to a crisp by the dragon and were scattered into pieces across the mine’s floor. Not that they would have been much help… Scoundrel had decided that he needed to head for the ruins of Blackneck’s castle in the slim chance of finding the answer he needed to heal the ice king’s wife… Sadly, that landmark was nowhere on the map.

It might have seemed as of then that there was no cure in sight, but Scoundrel’s gut told him otherwise… There had to be an answer… He just wasn’t looking hard enough! There was still a slight hope that the dragon might bring the sacred locket to Scoundrel in another encounter, but he wasn’t going to count on it… It was almost certain that the dragon would stop at nothing to kill him; he’d have little to no chance of escaping another attack, let alone reclaiming the locket. No, he’d just need to find something else.

Still, even with it gone, the secret powers the locket might hold was something Scoundrel couldn’t stop puzzling himself with. He had worn it himself, and it looked to be an ordinary trinket. What made it able to heal the ice king’s wife? It was a strange thing indeed…

After he’d flummoxed himself about this for quite a while, he noticed he’d been scaling a steady incline, and the tunnel had once again started narrowing as it had when he’d first entered the mine.

“This is curious…” Scoundrel thought to himself.

He was right, the incline was severely out of the ordinary. It grew so steep that he found himself relying on the grip of his arms to pull himself forward, rather than his legs. And the steeper the incline, the narrower and narrower the tunnel became, until Scoundrel could barely move his arms and he found them scraping against the cold rocky walls. It was an uncomfortable experience to say the least. He had begun to think that he’d never make it to the top, when he finally found himself crawling out of the tunnel into a wide open expanse. He sprawled across the wide floor, drawing in deep and heavy breaths. Having such space after being in something so small was a much needed change.

When Scoundrel had returned to his wits, the first thing he’d noticed was a blast of light.

“If this is another dwarf house, I’d rather feed myself to the dragon!” Scoundrel grumbled to himselfas he tried to rediscover the balance in his feet.

Looking closer though as his vision started to adjust, he could clearly see that it was remarkably different from anything he’d ever laid eyes on in the past.

Unlike the dwarf’s house, the walls and floors of the room were grandly dressed in polished marble slabs, and in the center was positioned a small pool of water that sparkled as a precious gem. Out of everything in the whole room, it was the enticing pool that stood out. It glowed with an irresistible fluorescent blue light that came from within. During the time Scoundrel locked gaze with it, his eyes full of wonder, he could have sworn that it began calling out to him.

“Come… Come…” the water hummed with a sweet melody.

In a trance, Scoundrel gravitated over to it. Not knowing for certain how it happened, he found himself kneeling down, staring into the heart of the pool. Looking deeper and deeper into it, he thought he saw the elegant face of a person… Or was it a lion…? Perhaps it was a star…? Yes, a bright shining star…

Truly, it was all of these things, or none at all, for the pool moved in a current that was unpredictable, untamable. Still, Scoundrel did not know this, and found himself growing sleepier and sleepier from the calming atmosphere of the room, trying to come to his answer… an answer he’d never reach…

There was something about all of it, the fluorescent pool, the soft humming. It brought a warmth to him that had long been lost, ever since his confrontation with the Ice King. Those troubles were far away now… Much too far to ever reach him now…

“Lean closer… Closer…” the soft voice sang.

Scoundrel perceived himself drifting nearer and nearer to the surface of the pool, never stopping until the tip of his nose had dipped into it.

“Who… Or… What are you?” Scoundrel asked, his voice putting large sleepy ripples into the water’s surface.

“I am the fountain of youth… Like the current of water, I travel from form to form, giving life to things that have yet to be, and giving renewal to those weak in strength. I am the first rain of spring… I am the strength of a weak infant… I am the light that begins each day… And I am your deliverance…”

Scoundrel peered deeper into the pool and he watched as it took on the forms of the things it spoke of. The pool murmured through images as fluently as it did in voice.

“How… What are the chances that I could have stumbled across you?” Scoundrel stuttered, terribly jolted. Coming upon such a treasure was plain ridiculous, unreal!

“If you believe to have stumbled upon me by accident, you are gravely mistaken. I have been watching your journey for quite some time now, and you wouldn’t have crossed paths with me if it hadn’t been for my own divine intervention. Recall the warm wind that has guided your path, kept you from stumbling? The surges of strength you’ve gained in your desperation? It was all of my doing. After studying your ways and your weariness I’ve decided to offer you my full aid. Giving strength to the weary is my calling; it’s my heart’s desire. Your wish, one wish only, is my command.”

One wish… Scoundrel could have any wish? Thousands of the desires and wants of his heart started fluttering through his mind and overwhelming him. He could have anything! He could finally have the freedom from the chains that stung his heart, he had the chance to take a palace of his own! All the riches in the world were now at his beckoning!

“I—I can have any wish? Anything?”

“Yes,” the water trickled, “There are few powers in the world that I cannot overcome. Save those few things, you can have any one thing you desire. This choice is a hard one, one where most struggle to make a decision.”

“Where… Where do I start? WhereshouldI start?”

“The choice is not mine, dear boy, but yours. For, a life depends on choices. All I can tell you is of those who have come before you and what they have chosen: some have wished for herculean strength and others, all the riches of the earth. Some have wished for beauty, and some have wished to beidolized by all. Some have wished for great intelligence, and others have wished for a tongue that could incite influence into the hearts of all. All have been satisfied with my works, up to a point that is, and none have never failed to gain what they had asked for…”

“You have no advice as to what I should choose though?” asked Scoundrel.

“You can only find your answer within yourself, dear child. It is not one that I can grant, but rather, one that you must seek out inside. Who are you truly Scoundrel? That is the question you must ask…”

The water stilled for a moment, and then images of Scoundrel’s own life began flashing through the water. Images of his infancy, his childhood, his raiding of the city… It summarized all he had done, all his works.

“You know who I am?” Scoundrel asked the water with shock.

“I know what you’ve done…” said the water, “Yet, onlyyouknow who you are. I am simply reflecting you.”

Scoundrel groaned. This water wasn’t any help at all! He would have been better off talking to his own echo at this rate. Running his fingers through his hair, he’d thought about all his greatest desires in life, the great achievements he’d made and the failures. He looked back to when he started raiding the town of Blackneck, when he made a name for himself. His mind traced back to the riches he’d stored up in mounds within his shack…

“The wealth you’ve given people… Were they happy with it?” asked Scoundrel.

“They lived in their heaps of gold all the rest of their life, smiling. They were as happy as any creature could be. Never has there been somebody happier with sleeping on a bed of metal and rock than they.”

Scoundrel frowned. It wasn’t at all the answer that he had hoped for, although, he found that he wasn’t at all surprised by it either.

Bringing his hand over his icy heart, another concern came to mind. It had almost frozen into a lump of ice. “Could… Could you take away the curse from me?”

“Yes.”

Scoundrel’s head began to ache. He’d never thought that liberation could come so easily. Yet something inside of him was unsettled by this whole affair. It was all too easy, much too easy…

“And, if you did this, it would come as a free gift?” Scoundrel inquired.

The water didn’t respond, and Scoundrel watched while, for the first time, not a ripple was to be seen within it.

Scoundrel was ready to scream, but he knew better than to do that. There was something about this atmosphere that calmed him; gave him assurance. A wave of peace swept over him, and he felt as though everything was right within the world again, as though the trials that had troubled him throughout the day were just distant dreams… Yes… Just dreams, just fragments of imagination… They were far away now.

The humming that had calmed him earlier returned to seep in his ears and echo around the room. What a sweet melody it was. Yes, oh so sweet! How could anything be wrong in such a beautiful place as this? What had Scoundrel to fear? He would just need to give his wish nice and slowly… He’d be happy again, he’d become one with the soothing atmosphere. He’d be able to live in this beautiful paradise for the rest of his days, drinking of the sparkling water. Yes, he’d just have to give his wish, and all would be well…

Scoundrel opened his mouth to speak, already beginning to let the words, “I wish…” roll off his tongue. He started saying this but when the memories of the ice king, Queen Lucy, and even the citizens of Blackneck came into his mind, he halted. Something in him snapped awake.

“I’ve been being tricked…” Scoundrel thought to himself.

The whole room was a trap. As a child Scoundrel had heard tales like these before: tales of the sirens. They were nasty creatures of the sea, able to break down the wits of even the sharpest person with only the lull of their voice. The greatest sailors would find themselves washed out into the oceanwithout the slightest recollection of how they got there. This was no fountain of youth from what he could tell, but a prison.

Scoundrel lifted pulling his face further away from the water. “I’ve searched myself deeply, and I now realize that I don’t want any of your gifts, save one thing: I wish for you to give me the cure for Queen Lucy. I wish to awake her from the eternal trance.”

The water rippled slowly, and Scoundrel watched as the glowing orb from within it steadily rose out of the water. Ascending inch by inch, water pouring heavily from it, Scoundrel watched as the form of a great statue unveiled itself before him, taking the place of the glowing orb he had seen only moments earlier. It was a sphinx. Made of green limestone. Its eyes were two emeralds that shone down onto Scoundrel. The glowing orb, from what Scoundrel could tell, had turned into this sphinx. He couldn’t explain how he knew, or how it could have happened, but his intuition seemed to give him all the explanation he needed.

When the Sphinx first came into view, Scoundrel was both stunned and surprised; finding himself staggering to keep himself upright. The change had happened so instantaneously that Scoundrel was struggling to comprehend it all.

“I’m afraid a cure for Queen Lucy is the one wish that I cannot grant to you… as it is the only thing my abilities are unable to fathom… however…..I cantellyou what it is able to cure her.”

“What is it then?” asked Scoundrel, eager to get away from the statue as quickly as possible. There was something about the sphinx that made his blood curdle.

“I’m afraid your wish will not be granted just yet. You see, you have only passed the first test, my boy.

I do commend you, as you are the first ever to make it this far.

Neither a single man nor a single woman has ever answered that riddle of mine; the riddle of the heart, correctly. And, not a man nor woman has ever been able to see past my veil through my murky waters. But, solving the riddle of your heart is only the first riddle out of two. I’m dreadfully sorry I have to do this, for few ever pass this stage… But, sadly, I will not allow your wish to be granted until you can answer my other riddle…”

“And what might this riddle be?” Scoundrel persisted with great annoyance. The creature had promised him a wish, but it now seemed to have all been a lie.

This wasn’t the only reason he had been annoyed though. He also used the hint of annoyance in his voice to cloak the true fear he revered towards the creature.

The being was unearthly, and strange. Whenever it spoke, not a bit of it moved, yet the voice came at of it was still clear as can be. It stood still in the midst of the water, staring down upon him with no mercy. What was the creature thinking? How long had it lived within these waters?

“My riddle,” the stony statue began, “Is one that has ignited trouble into many, and has managed to consume lives. It has fooled even some of the wisest of men on the earth…”

“Well then, if it’s only for the wisest of men, I’m more than capable of answering. Get on with it.”

Scoundrel sensed that the sphinx was disapproving of his words. Although, Scoundrel couldn’t be for certain, as it showed no emotion across its limestone face. The same tight-lipped expression mapped across the stony surface, looked that it could be a number of things. At one moment it seemed to be happy, another sad. At one moment it looked to be deep in thought, and at another, it looked as though not a blanker expression could have been manifested on it.

While Scoundrel continued to gawk at this awe-striking spectacle, the thing

started to rattle, staying stiff as ever.

“My riddle for you is this:

First the face of the wolf,

Then the face of a lamb.

This creature has puzzled many a man.

It walks through the masses,

Passing by unseen,

Yet, when it wishes,

It can have the form of a king.

On whomsoever it lands,

Whomsoever is changed,

Into the form of the creature they’re made.

This creature has no rule to what form it can take,

Yet, whatever its form, it is always fake.

Its voice is at times soft,

Yet in others, hard.

It at times measures a foot,

Yet in others, a yard.

My friend, to you, I give this task:

What is this creature? That is all I ask.”

Scoundrel was left astoundingly puzzled by the riddle. What was it supposed to mean…? And more importantly, what would happen if he failed to solve it?

“What if I falter in finding an answer?” Scoundrel asked.

The sphinx growled with the voice of a lion, “You willhaveto give an answer. Only one other option shall be provided. The only way to avoid giving your answer is through death. You will be trapped within this room until you commit to one of these two.”

It was at that point when Scoundrel realized he was trapped inside the room. The way that he had entered through was completely sealed off by a thick slab of marble. Even if he’d been strong enough to lift it, there was no crack or crevice to be seen. The slab might as well have been a part of the rest of the floor and it could have been, while this seemed impossible.

Scoundrel’s breathing quickened, and then stopped altogether when he realized the true desperation of the situation. Considering all the dangers he’d narrowly escaped throughout his life, or even in this day alone, he normally wouldn’t have been concerned. Yet, unlike on a normal day, he didn’t have the whole day to ponder his answer… Let alone the months he’d probably need to discover the answer to this riddle that few men could conquer.

It had all become extremely frustrating, to say the very least, and if Scoundrel had been a bit of dynamite, he would have burst on the spot. He needed focus to come up with the answer, but with everything going on, as well as the extreme time limit he had, he seemed to be at the great disadvantage. Could he truly hurdle all his obstacles, as well as reach his goal? That unsettling question only drove Scoundrel into further frustration, and he began pacing the floor with a greater headache than before. What was strange about all this is that the sphinx seemed pleased with Scoundrel’s loss for words, and lack of peace… almost too pleased. At the same time, what could Scoundrel have expected? Surely this Sphinx only chose the brightest of all the men that walked across the earth for his wretched game, and, even in the most peaceful sanctuary in the world, Scoundrel still was tearing his hair out over the difficult puzzle. The sphinx had all the reason to be proud.

“Could—Could I have a hint?” Scoundrel asked, meekly.

For a moment the sphinx said nothing, but then, with a blinding glow from its emerald eyes, a powerful roar erupted from within it, leaving Scoundrel quaking on the ground.

“Could you speak more coherently? I didn’t catch what you said…” Scoundrel wanted to spout out. Sadly (for his own ego anyways), his confidence had been completely shattered. There was something ominous about the whole affair that left Scoundrel wanting to crawl under a rock and hide.

Why had the sphinx disguised itself as “the fountain of youth” in the first place? What did it have to hide? More importantly, why did it choose to reveal itself now? The only answer that Scoundrel couldcome up with was that the sheer intimidation emanating from the sphinx had made Scoundrel all the more uncomfortable as he tried to answer the riddle… Still, he felt that there was something behind everything that had taken place, more than he had accounted for…

Scoundrel pushed himself into deeper thought. What could the answer to the riddle be? Then he realized: maybe it was closer than he thought! The murkiness of the water… The appearance of the mighty sphinx… They seemed to coincide with the verses of the riddle; “First the face of the wolf, then the face of a lamb.” Still, the conclusion that the sphinx was the creature of the riddle had to be far from the truth. For one thing, as far as Scoundrel knew, the sphinx lacked any ability to change the form ofothercreatures, as the riddle stated. This uncertainty was enough to drive Scoundrel away from choosing that as his answer. He wasn’t willing to settle for anything but a solid solution, especially when he was running the risk of the ultimate failure.

Continuing to strain his mind for the answer, the stress on Scoundrel had grown almost unbearable. With everything going on, it was hard to push all his fears into the back of his head. But, it was once he had finally done this that the answer clicked! It was so simple… It fit so well!

“Might your answer be a mask?” Scoundrel asked the statue.

No different from all its other responses, at first, the sphinx was sluggish to make a sound of any kind. Then, with a sudden motion, the sphinx began to shriek and groan in a high volume. It had appeared this way anyhow but, as Scoundrel examined closer, he realized that the groaning and aching coming from the sphinx was only the sound of it descending back down into the fountain. That is, unless the sphinx really had been groaning, and it was only masking its cries through its return to its watery prison.

Once the sphinx had disappeared into the water, the glowing orb reappeared and once again began to speak, “Congratulations. You’ve passed my final test, to my bafflement. Your wish shall be granted.”

“Not my full wish… What’s the point in being able to wish for anything when you can’t wish for the one thing you want the most?!”

“It is because the very thing you wish for is something even I do not possess the power to wield. You see, the only thing that can cure the Queen of her encasement is the purest form of love.”

Scoundrel almost wanted to burst out laughing. He was fuming! This creature knew nothing about love, and yet he was telling Scoundrel that he needed it! What did this ‘fountain’ know? How could this creature try to give him advice? “Ha! Pure love!? That’s the very thing that has gotten me into this mess, the very thing that eats away at the heart of the ice king! If you are trying to tell me that true love is the answer to my problems, you mistake me for a twit.”

“You don’t believe in true love? You don’t believe in a love that is incorruptible?”

“Well, since you’re the one with the answers to all the riddles, what do you think? In a world that’s full of traitors, death, famine and disease, do you truly thinkanythingcould be incorruptible?Maybelove is something more than just a fleeting emotion, andmaybeit possesses a power beyond the grasp of any mortal creature, but I’ll tell you right now, I have witnessed it cause nothing but grief.”

“Strange… I thought that you were beyond that, that you were hoping to cure the Queen to prove love was real…”

“Isn’t that funny… the very creature who claimed that I knew the riddle of the heart doesn’t even know how to read the heart himself! The only reason I need to cure the Queen is to snap the Ice

King back into sanity! If that doesn’t work, then I have no hope. I can be certain that love has nothing to do with this quest. I think you’ve confused my actions with nobility, and I’m afraid that just isn’t so…”

“I see…” the water rippled.

“Now that we have that cleared up, I’d like you to tell me where I should look for this ‘pure love you speak of’. Where might I find it, what qualities does it possess?”

“My apologies, but if you recall, you can only get one wish.”

“My apologies, but ifyourecall, you only gave me half my wish, if even that. You truly haven’t givenyour fair share yet.”

“You make a just claim. I relent. Let me show you where your answer lies.” The water began swirling around and within it a shape took frame. At first it was merely a shaky shadow that resembled a mountain. But, Scoundrel peeked closer, once again dipping his nose into the water, and he recognized what looked to be a palace.

Something about it was strangely familiar, as though he’d seen it before. “A castle? What an odd hint… Could you, by any chance, be depicting the ruins of the palace King Henry and Queen Lucy had once dwelt in?”

The water showed no response, staying as firm as ever.

“I’d very much like to go there,” Scoundrel continued, “I want you to take me there, or at least show me a way out. I need to reach that castle at once!”

The large slab of marble in the floor began to move. Smiling, Scoundrel walked towards it, staring with wonder at the light emanating from it. He reached the opening in the door, and looked down through it but he saw nothing except the glaring white light.

“Do… Do I go in it?” asked Scoundrel.

He heard no response, save the trickling of the water within the pool. Scoundrel looked into the opening and he felt a strong tremor well up inside himself. What if he didn’t survive? What if the exit was only a walkway into another trap set by the sphinx? Although, looking around the room he was positioned in, he could see that there was no other choice. He could either take the uncertain plunge of leaving the room, or he could remain where he was with the crafty sphinx. As much as Scoundrel loathed the risk he was taking, he knew what he had to do.

Right before he descended into the opening, Scoundrel turned to face the pool and make one final remark.

“Goodbye, whoever you are under that mask of yours,” he said with a grubby smirk spreading across his face. He hadn’t put much thought to it until now, but had the sphinx really been the wizard in disguise?

Scoundrel decided that it didn’t really matter. Either way, the sphinx was trouble, and Scoundrel didn’t wish to remain with him any longer. The thief bounded into the hole, and the last thing he could remember seeing was the color white, all around him. The shade of white was so clean that Scoundrel couldn’t have imagined it ever being more refined. As Scoundrel relished in the warm light, everything turned into a sudden black… And then he felt a vicious chill crawl up his back, when a dense cold

covered him all over…

Chapter Fourteen

Uncovering

Scoundrel hadn’t been sure how long he sat unmoving in the pure cold before he regained consciousness (if he had ever lost it). Scoundrel sat blinking a few times into the dense blackness that sealed him, trying to insure he was still alive. He couldn’t tell for sure. Had the light been so bright that he went blind? Was he in a cage or nightmare? Or was something much worse altogether taking place?

Jolted by terror, Scoundrel flailed limbs around, in the desperate hope that it would give him assurance and, even more desperate, lead to his escape. The freezing temperatures that encased him burned furiously, even more than his own heart.

These anxieties slowed when, giving a sudden kick into the air, he watched a block of light break through the darkness from out of under him. Kicking with his other leg, another burst of light shot through, and Scoundrel found himself peering into a cloudy sky below him. How was this so? Had the whole world turned upside down!?

Scoundrel started to laugh, a muffled laugh that was cut short by a mouthful of snow.Hewas upside down, in a thick pile of snow! After a good deal of scrambling and pumping of his limbs, Scoundrel found himself staring out into the clear outdoors. He was finally free from the nasty mines! With a sigh of relief, the boy sprawled across the ground sucking in deep and heavy breaths. As Scoundrel relished in his freedom, he began to question whether or not the whole encounter with the sphinx had been nothing but a dream. He had, after all, bumped his head quite a few times on his way up through the mines. However, he tried observing his surroundings… Turning around from the climbing mountain slope, he found himself facing a massive pile of ruins. Perhaps the encounter with the sphinx had been real after all! Perhaps it hadn’t been a dream! As Scoundrel lifted himself up and began flattening his wrinkled soggy clothes out, he took in another deep breath of fresh air. It was nothing like that musty old cavern; the flush of renewal was like a refreshing drink after a day of no water. He had gained a new sense of appreciation for the air, one he’d never felt before.

“Look at yourself,” Scoundrel thought, “Rejoicing over a breath of fresh air! Only hours ago you would have thought such a thing insane, ridiculous!”

As much as he wanted to deny it, the experience in the mines had given him a new perspective, it had changed something in him. Perhaps they were only minor changes and maybe they’d only helped him see the miniscule details of life with a crisp set of eyes. Yet, nonetheless, there was no denying that he had been changed, in one way or another; there simply wasn’t.

Sucking in one last fragrant breath, Scoundrel craned his neck as he looked for the sun in the sky. The clouds were very dark and heavy, as if to say it was going to snow again. Scoundrel found it a struggle to catch any glimpse of the sun behind their dreary drapery. However, from what he could tell, it was nearing four o’clock, if it hadn’t passed it already. His time had really become short, and the pain in his chest had grown to be almost unbearable. If he hadn’t known that he was supposed to feel flesh every time he put his hand over his heart, he would have thought he was pressing against a sheet of ice. The pressure was growing stronger and stronger on Scoundrel to find the cure. He couldn’t let his efforts die in vain.

Scoundrel charged towards the ruins of the castle wishing to find the mystery cure; wishing to spare himself of his icy fate. If only he’d known of the shadow that lurked close behind him…

Once Scoundrel drew closer to the ruins, he realized just how spectral and morbid it was. Even in the midst of the winter, unruly clumps of moss and mold managed to thrive atop the fallen rock and plaster. The ruins itself took on an intimidating shape, resembling something like a deformed claw groping its way out of the earth. Though, the fallen spires, and the crumbling base appeared different from each angle he took. It happened so fluidly, that he questioned whether it was some form of magic. Sometimes it appeared to be a claw, yet, in others it appeared to be the foaming mouth of a monster, and at other angles, it almost looked to be a normal castle. Ironically, it was probably the angle in which it looked to be a castle that unsettled Scoundrel the most. It was almost too comforting to see a palace placed in such a wasteland.

What a wasteland the ruins were too! Save the moss and mold, nothing in the ruins was living, nor was anything, not even the moss or mold, clean. The evergreen trees, that must have once thrived there, were now barren and rotting from the inside out. The luscious shrubs and ivy vines had been sucked dry and left into brown shriveled heaps. Even the newly fallen layer of snow was gray and dingy.

“What happened here?” Scoundrel asked himself.

It was true that King Henry and Queen Lucy were the glue that held the kingdom together, but how could their absence have caused such devastation? Surely the dragon hid more secrets from Scoundrel than he let on when he told him his tale. While this angered Scoundrel, he had sensed the dragon mighthave sprinkled lies throughout the story. That’s the nasty thing about liars, only half of what they say is true, and sifting the truth out of what they say is a delicate task.

While Scoundrel walked through the ruins, he tried spawning some ideas of what happened. This started when, half-hidden in the rubble, he found a tapestry of a coat of arms. It was a simple, yet elegant design; a green flag with a bright blue snowflake set in the middle. At least, the snowflake would have been bright, however the flag was covered in a filthy layer of soot. The aging that the flag probably withstood for more than a century wasn’t much help either. Something about the coat of arms disturbed Scoundrel; it was ancient, but it had still managed to survive until now… Why hadn’t it been buried, along with the ruins? The uncomforting feeling that filled him only grew stronger when he lifted the banner out of the rubble to find these three letters stitched into the top of it. “H”, “E”, and “N”. They jumped out at him with a concussive force, nearly knocking him to his feet. It looked that there would have been more letters too, to spell out the name “Henry”, if the rest of the top hadn’t been torn off…

Or had it been torn? Scoundrel observed it even closer and realized that it had been burned in a fire. The only reason the banner survived was the mound of rocks that had smothered it.

Slowly trudging further, Scoundrel found that he hadn’t even scratched the surface of the unsettling artifacts filling the ruins. Strewn about across the rubble, there were more banners, bearing more names. At the center of each one was a symbol; a jewel, a crown and a spear. Similar to Henry’s flag, all the names they bore remained at the top, although, most of them had been partially burned off in a similar fire.

Scoundrel hoped that the scene would grow lighter the further he continued, but he found that the artifacts only grew worse.... Scattered across the ground, Scoundrel found weapons and hollow armor bearing the crests he’d found on the banners. They almost screamed of a devastated past. Not all the armors he found were empty and hollow though… In some, he found the decaying remains of skeletons. Each time he passed one, he wanted to crawl out of his skin and bury himself back into the snow he’d come from. Scoundrel wasn’t usually the sort to be sensitive in the face of such causalities, but there was something about the whole scene that provoked his heart. Something awful had taken place here…

After he’d examined all this, Scoundrel started piecing together what had happened. Once the

King had become absent, there must have been a battle for the throne; the temptation of the jewels had probably been too much to overcome. In their lust, it looked as though the groups of aspiring Kings built up their own armies to fight for control of the castle, until it eventually fell to pieces. The very thought disgusted Scoundrel. How could they have been so greedy in their craving for riches and power that they utterly ignored the destruction it caused? As Scoundrel pondered this, out of the corner of his eye he observed a shining metal helmet, in which he saw his own reflection. It was then that his thoughts stopped short and he suddenly realized that he was hardly any better than those who caused the horrific massacre… How could he really have an opinion on the matter when he was just as bad or worse?

Scoundrel went on to scour the rest of the ruins in the aspiration of finding something uplifting, something that could give him a confidence that his mission wasn’t a completely dire effort. There had to be something that could help him find the cure for Queen Lucy, at least a hint! Scoundrel regretted not asking for a clearer answer from the sphinx, even if there was little chance that it would have ever given him an answer that didn’t come out in the form of a riddle. It was very angering to know how close he was to the cure, to the answer, and still not have a clue as to what he was looking for. Pure love? How was he supposed to find that? The whole endeavor was ridiculous! He would be better off looking for a needle in a haystack. He couldn’t be expected to find his answer under such circumstances, but he sadly had no other choice. The ice continued to gnaw at his heart, and the day was waning faster than ever.

It was at the moment he thought these things when something crossed his attention. It happened thathe took a certain step on the ground where it groaned and a hollow creak could be heard wailing below.

“What was that?” Scoundrel inquired to himself.

He bent down to sweep away the ash and dust that silted the ground, with his hands. As he did such, a small wooden door was uncovered out of the muck. It looked to be painted the same color as the stone that surrounded him, and it almost camouflaged with it too. But, once all the dust and ash had been removed, Scoundrel could clearly see that the paint was peeling off of it, revealing bare wood.

Scoundrel wedged his fingers into the cracks of the door and tried to open it, but to no avail. It was locked shut. Whatever was under there must have been safely hidden.

“It’s probably just an old wine cellar,” Scoundrel reasoned, to keep the excitement that was welling up inside him under control. Yet, he still wasn’t going to run the risk of overlooking even an inch of the ruins. Whether it was a wine cellar or not, he needed to get the door opened.

After making his fingers swell up big as tomatoes in giving another round at the attempt to pry it open, Scoundrel had decided too much time had been wasted, and he’d have to take a different approach. He gave a good deal of thought and noticed once again how ancient the wooden door looked to be. It had to be over a century old, at the very least. If Scoundrel could just kick through it at the center, it might give away… While there was a chance he’d fall right through, diving down into whatever laid below the mysterious door, he knew it was what he had to do. With a powerful thrust, Scoundrel slammed has foot down on the flimsy board, and listened as the wood broke with a crisp snap. The Splinters flew about everywhere, some of them jutting into Scoundrel’s skin. Although, the boy couldn’t care less, for a great mystery was unveiling itself before his eyes. With the wooden plank broken away, he discovered a rickety staircase descending into a dark hole below. Where it went, he didn’t know. There could be anything down the mystifying tunnel! Finding his footing on a wobbly step he plotted his way carefully downwards, making sure to test each board for sturdiness before putting his full weight on it. A few times, the whole step gave away before his foot had even touched the tip of it.

“You’d think that a king would invest some of his wealth in a sturdier design for his castle…” Scoundrel remarked. Although, a sensed that there was an underlying reason as to why the room was constructed so shabbily… Perhaps it was meant to be kept hidden.

Once Scoundrel had reached a point on the staircase where the light from the world above could barely reach, Scoundrel found a timber box hanging from the wall.

“At least they did something right here…” Scoundrel said, using the box to light the torches hung along the wall damp tunnel wall.

In spite of how meagre the tunnel was, it was still a nice and embraced change from the dark and desolate ruins above. Surely it wasn’t the most lavish of places, with its muddy brick structure, and its dank ceiling that leaked water with a steady rhythm. Still, it held a charming personality, with its musty smell of old paper books and wax, along with the warm glow the torches let off. Where was that smell coming from anyways? Scoundrel hadn’t traveled far enough in the tunnel to find anything just yet, and his eyes were still only beginning to adjust with the dim surroundings as he lit the passageway down into the room below. It wasn’t until he’d lit the last torch on the bottom of the staircase that he actually had an idea of where he was…

The room was furnished with bookshelves from wall to wall that were simply crammed full of books of all kinds. Scoundrel, who was quite used to a world without books, or reading in general, was astounded by such a sight. Studying each wall, he tried to read the jammed spines of each beauty.

“On Hunt Red Was To Cock A Chuck In…” Scoundrel read aloud from one, turning his head sideways as he studied the binding. In full honesty, Scoundrel wasn’t very literate, and the title of the book was actually “One-Hundred Ways to Cook a Chicken”. But, if you would have told himself such, I’m sure his face would’ve gone red with an indignant rage, and he undoubtedly would’ve exclaimed that he knew how to read just fine.

There was more to the room than just bookshelves however. It was a fairly small square, but it stillmanaged enough room for a small table, just big enough to seat two. On this small table was a single candle placed on a mantelpiece, and a piece of paper with a wiry scrawl spread across it. It was already hard enough for Scoundrel to read normal letters, so this paper was absolutely unreadable to him. He quickly guessed from the messy signature on it, looking strikingly similar to the word “Henry”, that the paper had been written by the Ice King. Lucy had probably written all the official manuscripts for him…

There were also drawers built within the table. Scoundrel pulled them out, one by one, finding them full of journals. Scoundrel tried reading the titles on them. They all seemed to have a similar signature, resembling the name “Lucy”.

Taking everything in, Scoundrel realized that this must have been a secret place for the king and queen to go for removal from the stress of the world around them. Scoundrel would have liked to have called it a study, but such a term didn’t seem appropriate when he knew that there must have once been vast libraries of books in the castle before it burned to ash. What was so special about this place? Why did it seem that the king and queen had spent so much time in it?

Scoundrel looked about the room; it was so modest compared to everything else he’d seen that day. It didn’t have the opulent decorations and designs along the walls, and it didn’t have the luxurious furnishings that he’d expected from royalty. Yet, it still seemed to have a great worth within it, a personality that surpassed the price of any jewel. Perhaps he only felt this because of all the troubles jewels have caused him that day, yet perhaps he felt this because of a quite different reason… Maybe he was learning that there was more to this world beyond his own personal lusts…

Once he had looked about the room some more, covering every inch, he finally decided to try and read one of Lucy’s books. He knew that it would be a terribly rough undertaking, but it had to be done. The sphinx said he’d find the cure here, and he would go to all extremes to make sure that he had it. So, without hesitation, Scoundrel began leafing through one of Lucy’s journals with the title, “diary” on it…

Chapter Fifteen

The Queen’s Diary

At the start of when Scoundrel began reading the diary, he struggled a good deal, and he only found things that mattered little to him. The first dozen entries were just logs of what Lucy had done that day, along with a few recipes mixed in. While it was dull and tedious, Scoundrel still found wonder in reading a document that had been lost for ages, hidden to the world, and yet he had the privilege to read it. He was reading a diary of somebody that had lived over a century ago!

It helped that Lucy had much better handwriting than Henry too, for if she hadn’t, Scoundrel certainly would have been lost in a maze of words; worse than he was already. Scoundrel steadily gained the rhythm of reading, and started skimming over the logs of some of Lucy’s earlier days to read further in. He passed many pages full of beautiful walks in the moonlight, the improvement of the kingdom, and the many philosophical thoughts Lucy had. As wretched Scoundrel felt at first for turningthe pages recording her life without a second thought, he knew that they didn’t have what he was looking for. He felt something in his frozen heart constantly telling him that he hadn’t reached the point where he needed to yet. He stopped leafing through the pages when he read something that caught his eye; the record of the events that took place during the first encounter with the dragon. She had described the oily beast in perfection, the only difference in her description of the dragon from what Scoundrel had witnessed being his second wing. It seemed that she had been proud of Henry’s valor, and when she spoke of the dragon’s mighty blow to her, as well as the stinging pain she felt thereafter, her confidence in him never wavered.

It wasn’t to say that Lucy didn’t recognize Henry’s failure though. From her words, she made it clear that she noticed the moment when fear started to fill Henry’s eyes. Yet, it was also apparent that she looked at the powers laying beyond what an eye could have seen.

This is what had been written across the last page of this entry: “To most I’m sure it looked as if Henry had failed me and the kingdom. However, there was nothing quite further from the truth. In a burst of confidence, I watched him take action without a second thought. He knew his place, his calling. He went to all costs to protect the kingdom, even if it meant his own life. At the end of the whole ordeal, the only reason he faltered; the only reason that he failed to thwart the creature, was his own fear. In that final pivotal moment, ultimately leading to his defeat and the dragon’s escape, I watched him question himself. I read his face, and he was afraid of failing. This is why I stand firm in the belief that he had never failed me, nor the people he led, but himself.”

Scoundrel read past this entry, and further in. The Queen wrote of her sudden illness, and the terror that had swept over the kingdom. To Scoundrel’s surprise, he found that Lucy herself had no concern of her condition and had only one thing troubling her.

“I’ve seen the weary looks on Henry’s face,” she wrote, “He’s scared that I will not overcome my sickness. Sadly, I wish he knew how much of this is only him fearing for himself... I can sometimes hear him while I’m half asleep, fretting over whether he’ll make a good enough King without my aid… and whether he’ll be able to spare me of the death the nurses are afraid will take me. Yet, what I fear is that he’s losing himself in this fear of losing me.”

On the next page, Scoundrel found another entry, dated a week later.

“Something quite unsettling has set upon our fair kingdom… The doctor says that I will not make it. He says that there’s no cure known for the illness that gnaws at me. Although, this is not at all what makes my heart sink… No, not at all. What happened is that Henry came to me, bringing his face to my ear. He told me that he had a cure… That he knew of a way to restore me. In spite of his soothing voice, something told me from the heavy look he had on his brow that something much darker is taking place. Whether I survive or perish, my greatest concern, above all else, is that Henry will never truly be the man he once was… I fear he is about to meddle with a power far beyond what he knows.”

Scoundrel then read more about the seemingly strange occurrence of Henry healing Lucy. Lucy’s words eerily did not fit with the description of the scene.

“Although the room lit up with smiles and laughs as soon as the color began returning to my face, there was one cheery smile that disheartened me. It was the smile of Henry. As happy as he looked after giving me this mysterious elixir, I could see within the gaze of his empty eyes that something was amiss… When I asked him later in our study where he had gotten the cure, his face went blank. He muttered something unintelligible and went up into his chambers alone for some ‘sleep’.”

How terribly sad… Henry had tried so hard to protect Lucy but it had only led to him completely forgetting about her. Knowing that the tale only became worse, Scoundrel started to moan. The diary went on to chart the following events; the distancing of Henry, the unsettling appearance of his invincibility, the vanquishing of the dragon… Scoundrel sped through most of this, partly because he already knew what had happened and didn’t need to take the time to read it, and partly because he could hardly bear to listen to Lucy’s melancholy thoughts any longer. Something about them tore him apart inside. He didn’t want to admit it, but tears welled up in his eyes.

“Pull yourself together,” Scoundrel told himself, “It’s just a yellowing old book!”

For some reason, as much as he tried to tell himself that, it meant much more to him. He’d never experienced anything quite like this… as he stuttered over the words on the pages, he almost felt as if he were seeing everything in the eyes of Lucy, almost as if he were sharing her very thoughts. Scoundrel had witnessed many strange things that day, but nothing had been more magical to him than this.

Anguish filled Scoundrel all the more when he started nearing the end of the diary, after Henry had left the palace for his final venture to the old wizard in the mountain.

“It vexes me to know what has become of me and Henry… Over the years we have grown further apart, and he no longer is there when I need him by my side. Even when he is with me, he is but a ghost of himself, always staring blankly off into space, and mumbling things that I could never hope to understand. I have asked him many times what is wrong, what consumes him so… But he never responds, almost as if he were just a statue. My heart fills with such a weight for him, although I know that there is little I can do. He has pulled his heart apart from mine, and he has hid himself behind a veil that he does not wish to be exposed through. Now he has left the palace once again, and I listen as murmurings fill the halls of treachery. Henry’s absence has truly done much more to this kingdom than he supposes. I knew that he ultimately would pay an awful price for using what I presume was magic… I just wish it had never come to this… No matter though. Neither distance nor any power under the sun will ever stop me from loving him, my dearest Henry.”

That was it. The very last diary entry. After that, the diary was but a cluster of empty unfilled pages. A sadness consumed Scoundrel as he read and reread those last words… In spite of everything Henry had done, in spite of all his mistakes, she never stopped loving him. In the end, their love had never died…

Once Scoundrel had put the book down, a sudden anger bubbled in himself. A dark truth was unveiling itself... The sphinx had told him that the cure was here! He should have found it by now, but there was nothing in the diary that eventoldhim of a ‘pure love’. Scoundrel ripped out another pile of books from the desk and tore through the pages. There was nothing there! Scoundrel’s muscles clenched and his breaths shortened. Where was the cure!?

“This doesn’t make any sense!” Scoundrel shouted at the top of his lungs.

He pulled at his hair, he pounded the table. There wasn’t going to be enough time to read all the books in the study. He had already spent too much time in the study as it was! There had to be something he missed… There just had to!

He pounded up the stairs out of the study, without another thought. If he was going to find the cure anywhere, it had to be up in the ruins. There had to be something he missed… Yet, he’d checked everything, he’d looked ateverything! He couldn’t have missed it, could he? Dashing through the ruins, his feet thumped and shook the earth, as they rushed over the piles of rubble scattered across the ground. There was nothing, absolutely nothing. Just piles of overturned rock and plaster, rusting armor, and rot. His eyes darted everywhere, he left nothing unseen. How could this be? He was the person who’d outsmarted masses of men and women, even the sphinx itself, and yet he couldn’t find what he was looking for in so simple a place?

Hordes of dismaying thoughts ran through Scoundrel’s head. What if the cure was buried deep under the piles of rubble, deeper than he could see? What if he’d missed the cure amidst the collection of books? What if there was no cure and the sphinx had lied!?

They were all possibilities, and likely ones at that. As much as he tried to reason with them, there was nothing to calm the unruly anxieties down. Scoundrel’s heart burned, both from the ice eating away at it and the stress lumping atop it. He couldn’t fail his mission, he’d put too much effort into it!

“What do I do!?” Scoundrel thought… Or at least he’d meant to only think it, but he found himself screaming it out loud.

He knew that he looked absurd, running about the abandoned ruins in such a fit, but he didn’t care. The sun would be setting soon enough, and he still had no plan as to how he’d attempt returning to itspeak in time.

Scoundrel couldn’t take the tax any longer and collapsed onto the ground. He finally accepted the horrid reality he’d been avoiding; he had been defeated. The battle he was fighting had already ended before it began. All the odds were tipped in favor of the Ice King.

Why had Scoundrel even bothered at attempting to heal Lucy? What good would it have done in the end? Everything about Scoundrel’s mission had all been a hoax that he crafted in his mind; there was never any chance of him finding the cure. Even if he had, what use would it have been to him? By the end of the day, no matter what Scoundrel attempted, nothing under the mountain would be spared, save the dragon. Nothing would change that…

Perhaps the Sphinx had been right, perhaps the curewastrue love. Yet, if Scoundrel had learned anything, it was that there was no true love. In other words, there was no cure. These ruins just represented what the cure was: gone, faded, destroyed, and dwindled down to nothingness. What a sap he had been to think there ever was a real cure… What a sap indeed!

Chapter Sixteen

The Marathon

Scoundrel snapped out of his miserable lamentation and self-pity when a bellowing roar erupted in the air. Jumping to his feet, Scoundrel searched around him. There was nothing to be seen in the thick darkness that was descending upon the earth. If only it wasn’t so dusky…

Scoundrel pricked his ears to accommodate for his lack of clear vision. At first, there was nothing to be heard… Then, all of the sudden, the clatter of something slamming against a mound of rubble, followed by the rubble crashing to the ground, broke out. Yet, when Scoundrel’s eyes flicked to where the scene should have been, there was nothing to be seen besides the murky shadow of night’s fog resting upon the ground. Time must have been running short quicker than he anticipated....

“Who’s out there?” Scoundrel demanded, trying intensely to prevent his alarm from seeping into his words.

There was no response. All too aware that he was being watched, Scoundrel began making his way for the peak of the mountain. He knew that there would be no chance of escaping the sight of whoever had been watching him, but maybe if he could lead them out of the ruins he’d have a clearer picture of his enemy. A twang of regret came over him when he realized he still didn’t have the cure, but he pushed it out of his mind and trudged onward.

With a rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins, Scoundrel began running with all his might. He was almost out of the ruins when he tripped, falling flat onto the ground. He couldn’t quite tell what had tripped him, perhaps rocks, or perhaps his stalker… But whatever it was, it had left him stunned.

“You thought you could escape me? Ha!” a shrill voice cried.

It was the shrewd dragon, Smoke!!

“What do you want from me now?” he asked. It was a weak retort, but the best he could muster.

“Are you sssuch an imbecile that you can’t even remember the conversation we shared only hours ago!?”

“From what I recall, it wasn’t exactly a ‘conversation’…”

“Quiet!” screeched the dragon as it tackled Scoundrel, “I want vengeance! Vengeance!” Its eyes were wild with rage, and its mouth was foaming. Across its body, much of its oily scales had been torn off from the fall in the mines, leaving behind crude patterns of exposed flesh.

“For what?” asked Scoundrel innocently, “You are the one who jumped off the cliff.”

“I’ve had enough of your nasty tongue! You’re lucky you’re still alive. You’re lucky that I’m only wearing your treasure across my neck and not your corpse!”

Scoundrel ignored the threats of the dragon when he noticed Lucy’s locket dangling over his head, around the dragon’s neck. Maybe that’s what the sphinx had meant by, “finding the cure in the ruins”!

“How did you find me here?!” asked Scoundrel, exaggerating a shriek. He was attempting to divert the dragon’s attention.

“How ssstupid do you think I am?! Of course you’d be here, where else? You sssseemed disturbingly interested in this place when I told you about it during my tale, ssso I reasoned that this was the likeliest place you’d escape to, if you were clever enough to find an exit.”

“Oh…”

“I can see that you’re finally running out of your clever retorts. I suppose you must just be awestruck in my genius! It’s a comfort to know that, for once, somebody has managed shut that vile mouth of yours! What a shame it is that you won’t be quiet for much longer. Soon enough, your blood-curdling screams will fill the air. Although, I suppose that won’t be much of an issue when you’re dead!”

“Are you talking to yourself? Because, the only person that has to worry about death is you!” Scoundrel said with a sarcastic tone. Hidden behind his back, his hand fingered a large stone.

“That’s it! I’ve prepared you for your execution long enough!” the dragon bellowed. The truth was, the beast was quite frightened. Scoundrel expressed no panic at all, and while the dragon normally would have liked to believe it was just an act, Scoundrel’s heart had been frozen to a point passed what he could interpret.

The dragon swung its jaw open to let out a blast of fire. What happened next came unexpected. Scoundrel quickly jerked onto his side to throw his stone into the exposed gaping mouth. Its eyes popping wide open, the creature let out a hoarse yowl. It wheezed and gagged, thrashing around on his back, while trying to regurgitate the rock it swallowed.

In the midst of the dragon’s struggle, Scoundrel tore the locket from its neck, slipped out of its massive underside and sped up the mountain. The sun was already setting, but Scoundrel knew that if he could just reach the ice king’s fortress in time, he’d be fine. He was already halfway up… It was a steep climb, but he knew he’d have to make it if he wanted to spare his life-- No, not only his life, but the lives of all those who lived in Blackneck.

It was then that he finally realized how much their lives truly relied on him; his success or failure was pivotal to their survival. It was true that he had never liked the people of Blackneck, that he had caused them much suffering in his life. He really had no business in fretting about their welfare; he was perhaps the last person you would have expected to do such. Yet, this only drove Scoundrel to want to ensure their survival even more; he owed it to them after all he’d done.

While Scoundrel continued sprinting up the incline of the mountain with all his force, the dragon started stumbling after him, gagging as he went. At this point it was quite clear why the beast was nicknamed Smoke. In the midst of the daylight, while he chugged up the mountain, his grungy smog could be seen protruding out of his snout and filled the air around him. It left behind a nasty rotting scent that slowed Scoundrel’s steps and weakened his every movement.

Still, even in the face of this test of will, Scoundrel charged on. He just had to make it to the peak of the mountain at Blackneck’s fortress, and then he’d be free. He’d already conjured a plan to rid himself of the dragon, as long as he could outrun him long enough. Sadly, the truth was Scoundrel’s strength had already begun waning. The sun had nearly set, and Scoundrel’s heart felt as heavy as a boulder. Normally his heart and veins would have been throbbing, yet, the comforting thump in his chest had been replaced by an echo of what had once been. Even with the dragon’s pace slowed down by the rock still jammed in his throat, Smoke had Scoundrel’s speed more than matched. It wouldn’t be long now before the steely claws would overcome Scoundrel and lunge into his back.

“Give it up boy! You little robber, give me my locket back!” the dragon gargled out, “You’re nevergoing to make it, ssso you might as well give it up now!”

Scoundrel rushed forward, ignoring the calls. Maybe he was just a thief, and maybe he was only doing all he’d ever known. Although, for once, this “thievery” felt different… It was satisfying, in a way he’d never felt before. It strengthened his soul. This strength he felt surging through him still wasn’t enough though… No, not nearly enough for the dragon!

Realizing that the monster hade gained considerable ground, Scoundrel started weaving his way in and out of the trees. He knew this would only make his journey up the mountain longer, but it was the one way to slow the dragon down. Sure enough, Scoundrel couldn’t have better in his timing. Right when he decided to take this new maneuver, Scoundrel’s rock came flying out of the dragon’s mouth, followed by a spray of fire. The back of Scoundrel’s garments had been toasted to a crisp and a tree had been lit aflame.

Scoundrel ran even faster, dodging the flames of the dragon as best he could. At this point, the dragon had already caught up with him, and there was no hope of outrunning him now. Scoundrel’s only chance was staying alive long enough to reach the Ice King’s fortress, for he had a plan. He was only halfway there now, he just needed to keep going!

Heading for a woody area in the mountain, Scoundrel hoped Smoke would lose him. The shift in direction might have sacrificed a bit of his time, but no matter. He’d still make it to the ice castle before sundown, from what he could tell, there was still a solid fifteen minutes left.

“What are you waiting for snake?!” Scoundrel taunted as he ran into the forest.

The worm let out a mighty roar, and sprayed more of his fervent flame into Scoundrel’s path. Luckily, the boy had just made it through the shelter of the trees before Smoke launched this deadly attack. For a moment, the safety the trees seemed to offer was comforting, yet then the fire started spreading from tree to tree. Thick layers of smoke filled the air until it choked Scoundrel to the point he grew blue in the face. Only to make things worse, as Scoundrel was stumbling through the burning web of trees, the dragon was trampling over them, knocking everything out of his path.

The pursuit had grown brutal now, and Scoundrel feared that he wouldn’t be able to make it out of the woods without becoming a pile of ash. Yet he only had to run a little while longer before he reached the castle. It was only just beyond the overgrowth of pines. He could make it!

A tree fell into his path and then another, but he still ran, hurdling each obstacle. Running with a furious strength, he ignored everything that ailed him, the pain, the hunger, the worry. All that mattered now was making it to the castle in time.

Scoundrel had almost reached the end, when the dragon had finally caught up with Scoundrel’s trail. There was nothing separating the two now. Opening his jaw and craning his steely neck forward, the creature prepared to spray out a burst of fire at Scoundrel. What happened next would put both of them into shock. A burning tree fell right into the dragon’s face, just before a single spark could escape his mouth. With his aim tattered, the fire launched far to the left, missing Scoundrel completely. Scoundrel had never seen anything quite like it. Everything had happened in such little time, but to Scoundrel, it felt as though it took minutes.

Turning his head back from the dragon to face forward, Scoundrel found himself hurtling out of the trees and out towards the ice covered lake that surrounded to the castle. It would only be a moment now, just a few more minutes!

Scoundrel’s thoughts were dashed when he felt the ruthless claws of the dragon thrust him into the air. Smacking against the ground, Scoundrel winced.

“You still try to fight even after you’ve been beaten!” declared the dragon with a sharp hiss, with a single claw poking at Scoundrel’s writhing body. His voice brought a chill down Scoundrel’s battered spine. “Do you not realize who I am!? Do you not realize how easily I’ve conquered the fathers before you!? Ridiculousness!”

Scoundrel crawled forward. The foot of the frozen lake only yards away now.

With another disapproving hiss, the dragon launched itself at Scoundrel’s torn body. Rolling onto thelake, with Scoundrel tucked into his chest, the dragon laughed like no creature had ever laughed before. A toothy smile smeared across his face while the awful sound, like the creaking of rusted metal, escaped his throat. “It was a valiant effort, really. But, I’ve tortured many creatures that far surpass you in wit and skill. I wouldn’t be too upset about this fate though… Dying by my hand is much better than dying by the Ice King’s, to be sure. Be grateful that I’ve decided to spare you of that awfulness.”

Scoundrel gritted his teeth. There had to be a way to escape…

The dragon reared up on his hind legs, preparing to maul through Scoundrel’s chest. There was nothing the child could do now. He winced and prepared for the coming onslaught. That is, until a sharp pang hit his ear. It was the cracking and snapping of ice. Scoundrel opened his eyes and jumped to his feet in spite of the pain he felt. Just as he did this, he watched as the dragon’s body fell through the ice and into the cold water below.

“No!!” the dragon shrieked sinking deeper in the water. Scoundrel could already hear him gurgling and sputtering as he drowned into the lake.

Not wanting to listen to the creature’s screams, Scoundrel fled toward the ice castle. The dragon was gone! He had been finished! A rush of relief filled Scoundrel’s body as he fingered the locket he rescued and returned his gaze to the hole the dragon had fallen through. Relief wasn’t the only thing that rushed through him; a gust of the all too familiar warm wind ran over his skin, and back into the whirling clouds above. Scoundrel grinned.

His unease returned though when he saw the cracks in the ice trailing from the hole the dragon had fallen through, and towards him! He then turned to face the sun; it had nearly set! Only faint glimmers of it remained in the western horizon.

He had to move hastily, he could already hear the splitting and slushing of plates of ice as they separated. The ground under him quivered and quaked at each step he took. Yet, he could already see the steps into the castle just mere yards ahead of him, he just had to hang on a little while longer.

Scoundrel’s senses sharpened as he ran towards his goal. He could see everything now; nothing escaped him and yet, his gaze was only focused on one thing; the doors into the Ice King’s palace. He could sense the thumping of his footsteps, the clammy sweat trickling down his neck, the smell of smoke that remained in the air, and the raw cold air against his tongue. He’d never forget how he felt at that moment. All the thoughts of dread and excitement that filled his head; no, he’dnever forget how it felt.

Running against the wind, and all odds, Scoundrel nearly reached the steps of the ice king’s castle. He could already see the entrance, swung wide open as if to welcome him inside. Scoundrel’s foot reached the first step just before the ground under him shattered and gave away. He’d made it! Scoundrel tore up the steps, as fast as his feet could carry him. The sun was just about to set! Scoundrel could feel the pressure flowing through his veins, the force in every breath. He could feel his very soul scream with anguish in the fear of not making it inside the door in time. It was only feet away now!

With a groan, the ice doors Scoundrel viewed only a day earlier began to shut. Scoundrel leaped over the last step in hopes of making it in between the two doors in time. The whole success of his mission depended upon this one sacred moment! Pinching his eyes shut tight, he couldn’t bear the thought of failing; the whole town would suffer!

Scoundrel hit the ground with a loud thud and watched as the doors slammed shut…

Chapter Seventeen

A Grim Fall

Scoundrel moaned. The feeling he felt was terrible… When he entered the ice castle, his arms flailing all about, he’d slammed his elbow against the door!

That’s right, Scoundrel had made it through, and just in the nick of time. If he had been any later, he would have been moaning for a quite different reason, on the opposite side of the shut doors. Under normal circumstances, Scoundrel would have rejoiced and acted almost comical in the prospect of sparing his life. Although, the moment Scoundrel had entered the castle, a solemn burden came over his whole demeanor. He would need to enter Blackneck’s large cave tucked away within the castle, and, if he had such fortune as to be spared, give his proof that love existed. Doubt filled Scoundrel’s mind as to how the locket could be the purest form of love. He had some ideas, but none of them were firm explanations. Although, both the dragon and the sphinx seemed to indicate that the locket had some sort of power, so it would have to work… It would just have to!

Walking slowly through the halls, Scoundrel felt as if the walls themselves had grown eyes and began using them to bore through his soul. He couldn’t make a single step without suffering a nauseating uncertainty. This same thought continued spinning through his head, he couldn’t push it out no matter how hard he tried: everything relied on his success or failure; he couldn’t afford to do otherwise and the townspeople couldn’t afford it…

As Scoundrel had drew closer to the Ice King’s chambers, the air around him howled at each step he took. Scoundrel knew that he was nearing Old Blackneck and the ice cold feeling flooding his whole body told Scoundrel that his time was nearly up. His very veins felt cold as ice; the blood pulsating through him no longer giving him the comforting warmth he missed dearly, but a chill that made Scoundrel shiver.

His cold veins weren’t the only things that made Scoundrel shiver though. The sharp voice of the Ice King sang through the air, puncturing Scoundrel’s ears, as well as his train of thought. Scoundrel had fully entered into the Ice King’s room; it all seeming to have happened so fast. Scoundrel’s journey through the castle surely had been much longer last time, hadn’t it? Whether it had or hadn’t was no matter now though, for, looking straight down on Scoundrel were the all too familiar eyes of Blackneck. Scoundrel stared into the Ice King’s face, and witnessed a weariness pass over it. He looked so tired and stretched since Scoundrel had last seen him, even though the being’s features were supposed to have stood still as stone. What could have happened to him between the times of only a day? Scoundrel’s thoughts were swept away with the wind of the Ice King’s voice.

“You have returned concerning the business of our deal we struck yesterday, correct?” The Ice King’s voice was as frigid as ever, and the anger that Scoundrel had witnessed within him only the day before had completely dissipated.

“Yes, that’s exactly why I’m here. I’ve done what you asked, and I’ve returned with the proof you asked for.”

“And what proof might this be? For, if I’m not mistaken, I recall claiming that love was but a fantasy, and you did not seem as adamant against that claim as you are now. What has changed within the stretch of only a day?”

“As if you haven’t witnessed my whole journey. You’ve seen the many trials I’ve faced and encountered, and, as of now, I don’t wish recount them. Right now, I’m here to hand you my proof. Look before you Ice King, this is the item that you have desired. The proof lays hanging around my neck.” Scoundrel then lifted the piece from over his head and raised it towards the great whirlwind. Thewind blew wildly, until it ripped the locket right out of Scoundrel’s hands, and threw it into the wall. If the piece hadn’t been crafted by the nimble hands of dwarves, it surely would have broken.

“What a monstrosity!” bellowed the wind, “There is nothing to that locket! It is merely a rusting piece of metal! What a fool you are! There was a reason I gave the worthless trinket to my wolves you know!”

Full of horror, Scoundrel’s mouth gaped wider than mouth of a cave. “No! You must put it to the test before you do such a thing! Did you not read the words written on it? Did you not marvel at its perfect design? Test it on Lucy before you go claiming such things! I swear, there must be something to that locket!”

“What business do you have with Lucy!? What business do you think you have even still standing before me in my castle!? I don’t even know why I bothered giving you the divine right to live one more day and unearth all my secrets! Just because of this alone you should die!” The ice king then slammed Scoundrel into a wall, in the midst of his mighty wind.

“No! Please! I promised you proof, and here it is! Put it to the test, it should heal your wife! I swear to it!”

“Lies!”

Breathing heavily, Scoundrel prevailed, “Just one test! That’s all it will take, and you will be proven wrong! Haven’t you wished with all your heart to restore Queen Lucy? Or has your heart grown so cold that you can no longer live without thinking about how everything effects your own sake…?”

The wind stopped. Scoundrel tried to read the face of Blackneck, but to no avail. He had hoped to see a baffled look come across his face, but instead, he found that it was his own face that was baffled. There was no emotion on that stiff face, no empathy. A deafening echo filled the room, giving Scoundrel a chill.

“One chance,” the stone said rigidly, “One, and that is all.” Scoundrel thought that he might have seen droplets of water slide down the ice king’s cheeks. However, he couldn’t be sure, for as soon as he noticed them, they were gone.

The Ice King lifted his arm, and with the flick of the wrist, the cracking and splitting of ice started to fill the room. The eerie echo still filled remained, but Scoundrel felt that something else was developing. Scoundrel watched as the Ice King’s gaze turned to the ceiling, and Scoundrel did the same. A hole, larger than the doorway into the castle, was breaking through. Snap! Crackle! The ice continued to split, and the hole grew ever larger. A sweet aroma filled the room, more enlightening than the scent of roses on a fresh spring day. A low whistle swam in after it, flying over Scoundrel’s head. A cluster of Goosebumps covered Scoundrel’s body as a rush of warm air hit him in the face. Something magnificent was about to happen.

Sure enough, like the graceful descent of a feather in the air, the frozen figure of Queen Lucy glided out of the opening in the ceiling. Scoundrel stared in wonder. How was she doing such? It was then that Scoundrel realized the winds of the Ice King were carrying her. With a journey as wild as the flight of a butterfly, Lucy came closer and closer to the ground. With a thud, she finally stood between Scoundrel and Blackneck.

“If this does not work on my beloved, you shall forever be under my wrath,” Blackneck declared monotonously.

Scoundrel nodded, with his lips tightly pressed together. If this didn’t work, he didn’t know what he’d do. No, this would have to work!

Blackneck lowered himself, and stood before Scoundrel, his limbs as square as a tin soldier’s. With a gust of wind, he brought his locket into his hand, grasping it tightly. As he lifted his arm and prepared to place the locket back around his wife’s neck, Scoundrel thought he heard Blackneck whisper something, but he couldn’t tell with the wind that surrounded him. Finally, the ice king let the locket drop around Lucy’s neck.

For a moment, nothing happened. The two stood staring at the ice statue without a movement. Then,suddenly, Scoundrel heard a low hum hover past him.

He jumped up and slapped his hands together in joy! It must have been working! Yet, then he caught the look on Blackneck’s face; indifferent.

“What are you doing!?” he snapped, “The humming of my wind is nothing to sneeze at!”

Scoundrel would have blushed if he’d still had warmth in his body. He knew what this meant. “Try reciting the words inscribed upon it! There must be something! It has to work!”

Blackneck turned his head towards the locket and heeded Scoundrel’s orders. Snapping it open he began to read, “To my beloved Lucy for remembrance that, even apart, our bond shall always remain.” His voice remained sharp as the tip of a knife.

Scoundrel stared at Lucy, eagerly hoping for the ice fall off her body; hoping to see her renewed… But nothing happened.

The ice king’s eyes returned to Scoundrel, unblinking. “As I suspected. Nothing under the sun can thaw my wife, not even the sun itself. You have failed to meet your end of the bargain Scoundrel. It’s time for you to be acquainted with the icy chamber you’ll inhabit for the rest of eternity.” A blast of ice shot out of Blackneck’s hands and hit Scoundrel’s chest. Scoundrel crumpled onto the floor in a ball, his lips quivering from the dismaying chill.

How could this be happening? Scoundrel was positive that the locket should have worked… What had gone wrong?!

His vision was already starting to fade, and his whole body felt as if a thousand knives had punctured through it. The cold was too much for him.

Scoundrel labored in forcing his eyes meet Blackneck’s. “Maybe the locket didn’t work. But, I can promise you as long as I have a breath in my body that loveisreal…”

“Ha! Spare yourself of your senseless fighting, we both know the truth. Love is perhaps real, but the ultimate end of it is always destruction! Look upon yourself boy! What happened to your parents!? Where were they when you were left alone in a shack! Where were they when you were driven to steal? They were just another aching weight to add on your heart when you were forced to face the real trials of this world.”

Scoundrel’s face remained as calm as ever, and, even as it grew paler from Blackneck’s icy assault, not an ounce of trepidation had hold over it. “No. It was when I tried to hide them that I felt the pain; when I tried to numb myself of their memory. In truth, the love we shared is probably the only thing that made me bother to come up here. If there was anything that has taught me what love is, it was them. They were a guide of the person I should become.”

Blackneck sprayed another blast of air at Scoundrel, “Pitiful excuses! You of all people know that they have done little for you! Besides, look at where love left me!”

Scoundrel’s body ached, and his jaw was as stiff as ever, but he still pressed on, “I read the diaries of Lucy; her thoughts and her feelings. In the end, she never gave up on you. In the end it was you, and you alone, who caused her doom.”

Blackneck shrieked, and he tossed Blackneck across the room, “I don’t want to hear it! You’re just scum from off the street, a good for nothing Scoundrel! What do you know about love!?”

“I’m not Scoundrel... My name is Joshua. I might not know much, and my word is worth little. Yet, while I’ve refused to admit it, I’ve learned a lot about love in one day. Even if my cold heart never had the chance to feel it, I can still tell you what it is…” a distant look filled Scoundrel’s face as his skin turned pure white. The loss of color was so sudden that you might have thought somebody was smearing a white paintbrush across his face. “It is selfless, slow to anger, and humble. It’s not always found in the finest of jewels, or the great powers of this world… but you’ll find it everywhere in the simplest of things. Maybe the thing isn’t real, and maybe it is but a figment of imagination. Yet, I can tell you this; the thing that allows us to share one heart and mind with one another; and that can bring us into a harmony beyond expression, is more real than anything else in this world. At the end of the day, love is this one thing most of all: selfless. Now, do what you wish with me, sulk in your icy prisonif that’s what you desire. But remember this one thing: you’ll find love if you can muster up the courage to step outside yourself.” Scoundrel’s heavy eyelids quelled and shut once he was finished.

The breath that still was left in Blackneck stopped short. Nobody had spoken to him like that in over a century… Not since Lucy… Lucy! Scoundrel had read her diaries hadn’t he? That must have been his ploy! He must have been reciting lines from Lucy’s diary; he had to have been! There was no other possibility!

“Do you think you can manipulate me!?” the Ice King roared. He shot Scoundrel with a blast of frost one last time, sending him rolling down an abyss in the castle. The fiery fury in Blackneck’s eyes didn’t smolder until he heard the ice of Scoundrel’s frozen body shattering below.

For a moment, the Ice King stood there still as stone. He’d really done it, he’d killed the Scoundrel. Burying his head in his hands, to his surprise, Blackneck found that he almost wanted to mourn. That is, until he calmed himself. He’d done the world a favor. Sparing that destructive creature would have been a monstrosity.

Chapter Eighteen

Removing the Masks

Scoundrel had fulfilled his end of the bargain; he tried to prove love was real. Now it was time for Blackneck to fulfill his end of the bargain and freeze the town below. It was his time to go, he no longer had a place in the world. But, as Blackneck prepared to take to the air, something stopped him from advancing. There was something in the boy’s words… They gnawed at him, made him groan with an agony like no other. It had been years since he had felt remotely anything, this didn’t make any sense.

The Ice King shook the feelings off. They were nothing. The words Scoundrel had spoken were barren as his fortress. They had just been a recital of his wife’s words.

The Ice King pursed his lips and whirled into the wind. He had waited a century too long to conduct this operation. Yet, once again, he was halted. As he hovered into the air, he thought he heard a voice call out to him… It was still, and soft, but firm. As quiet as it had been, it rang in the Ice King’s ears.

“Henry,” it said to him.

Blackneck turned his head to and fro. Who had said that!?

“Henry,” the voice whispered again.

The Ice King’s eyes met the source of the voice: it was the statue of Lucy. Blackneck descended quicker than a sweep of wind, landing in front of the figure.

“Lucy?” said the voice of Henry. It was softer now, calmer. His tone had slowed, and the sharp pang that had once filled it instantly left.

The ice that covered Blackneck started thawing, and looking upon Lucy, he could see that much of hers had melted as well. Around her face, the icy layer grew much clearer and thinner; even now, he could see bits of it fully exposed.

“What… What has healed you?” Blackneck asked staggering. He felt his legs wobble and quake. They could give away at any moment.

Lucy’s eyes shifted to the abyss Scoundrel had fallen through. It had been Scoundrel! His words had reawakened her! A sinking guilt bashed against Blackneck’s chest when he realized what he’d done. He’d rejected the very person that healed his wife, murdered him! Things only grew worse… The cold chilling air around them was freezing the melting layer of ice back onto his wife. Soon enough, she’d be as frozen as ever, lost to him once again.

Knowing that time was fleeting, his gaze met with Lucy’s, “What… What do you want me to do? Ican’t fail you again! I promise, on my life, you will be safe! Just tell me how, and I’ll do it!” Weary breaths filled his speech, he couldn’t take the pain of losing the very thing he loved again, let alone by his own hand.

“Don’t worry about failing me Henry,” Lucy said as the ice began freezing around her. Her voice was urgent, but calm, like the flight of a dove. “But worry about failing your own self. Before trying to avoid failing the heart of another, look within your own. Be true to your own heart… Take off your mask…” At her last word, the ice froze back around her, once again ensnaring her body in the cold.

“No!” cried Henry. He couldn’t bear to see her return into the bondage of the ice. Yet, there was nothing he could do.

An anger started to surge within Blackneck. He was the cause of his wife’s turmoil! He was the cause of the destruction that had been inflicted. It had always been him! For a century he’d tried to avoid facing this bitter truth, but now, he was forced to face it, completely exposed. The struggles he’d endured within himself were by his own cause, his own folly. He’d squandered his life in self-pity, not realizing how fragile it really was.

Blackneck—Henry—couldn’t take the pain anymore. He collapsed into a puddle of tears. All the people he’d loved, and all the things he cherished dearly, had been taken away from him; they’d melted away through his fingers. He could no longer even enjoy the comforting heat of the sun against his back, or the reviving breeze of the spring. In his shell of ice, he could no longer feel anything. It was an aching sore beyond anything he’d ever experienced; it cut him bitterly within the heart. Henry pressed his icy hands around his wife’s body, hoping he’d sense heat, sense something that proved there was still life within her. Although, he found nothing… Not even a steady heartbeat.

“WHY!?” howled Henry, his voice so shrill that the icy walls around him began to crack. His breath began to slow pace as he tried to calm himself, yet a single tear manage to slip out of his eye, and he found his breath uttering the word, “Why?” yet again.

To soothe his vexation, Henry tried remembering what Lucy had said. He even found himself trying to remember what Scoundrel had said. But it was useless, the memories were as isolated from him as everything else in the world.

“Be true to your own heart…” the wind whistled. Henry’s eyes darted back and forth. Who had said that? Were the words only of his imagining? He couldn’t be sure, but there was one thing that he was firm in; those had been the exact words Lucy had said to him.

What did they mean? Henry dearly wished he had the dragon’s ability to read hearts at that moment. He needed to know what might have been inscribed upon his heart, and how he could be, “true” to it. What did it mean to be true to one’s own heart anyways?

Suddenly, Henry remembered what Scoundrel—Joshua-- had told him. He needed to step outside himself…What did that mean? Henry had an idea.

Wiping the tears from his cheeks, he tried about forgetting all the sins he’d done. He tried looking at the world with a new set of eyes. He knew that there was no erasing the past, but he needed to move from it… He couldn’t remained fixed in time, as still as ice, any longer. The time had come for him to move forward.

It was a strain, but, once doing that, the world seemed to light up with a vibrant spark, almost as if he’d been in darkness for ages and had gotten his first glimpse of light. He felt as his weights ebbed from him in this light’s warmth, and the first thing he saw was how dearly Lucy needed help. He’d been buried inside himself for so long that he’d completely lost touch with who he was, along with reality. But now, he was firm in it. He was a leader, and leaders know when to take action; when to make a sacrifice.

Henry no longer feared failure, he’d already done enough of that. It was high time that he made a change, he’d do anything in his power to restore his wife. He’d never be able to make up for the blemishes left behind from the many mistakes he’d made, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered now was helping the person he’d loved the most. Slower than a tree sluggishly sprouting from the ground,Henry pulled himself up. He groaned in the pain, feeling all the ice around him dissolve. The parts of his body that had been numb for so long were beginning to feel again. A new life flowed within him.

In spite of the affliction, Henry smiled, for he knew what this meant. Turning his palms face up, he saw them aglow with a golden flicker, like that of a firefly.

“It’s time,” Henry whispered. “You will be free soon enough Lucy.”

He then aimed his palms to face Lucy…

Scoundrel awoke in a cold damp darkness. His body ached with an unquenchable agony, but that was the least of his worries. Where was he?

“I hope I’m not dead!” he laughed nervously. Although, what if he really was dead? The last thing he could remember was falling, and then the awful shattering of ice.

Scoundrel stood up, in hopes to get a better view.

Crunch!

There must have been ice under his feet... After groping around, Scoundrel’s hands managed to find a wall. He cringed. It was freezing, and when he tried to pull his hands away, they stuck to it like glue. He managed to remove them with only a slight burn, and realized that it must have been made of ice.

"Everything just had to be made of ice today!" Scoundrel declared sarcastically, "Ice people, ice castles... Even my own heart is made of ice!"

His heart! Scoundrel slapped his hand against his chest and was welcomed by the comforting heartbeat he'd known as long as he could remember. There wasn’t the slightest hint of cold! What had happened to all the ice that was on him? Scoundrel paced the floor, hoping to come up with an explanation.

Crunch!

Scoundrel’s eyes went wide with wonder. The ice under his feet… It had come from him! How had this happened? The curse wasn’t supposed to break unless the Ice King relieved him of it… If he found true love… That was it! The magic of the wizard only broke under true love, didn’t it?

“The curse must have relented when I discovered what true love was!” he concluded.

Getting such an explanation was satisfactory for a while, but then a new eerie question came to mind… What had become of the Ice King and Queen Lucy? From what Scoundrel remembered, the Ice King was preparing to freeze the town. How was he to stop the Ice King from causing such destruction if he didn’t even know where he was?! Scoundrel started running through the darkness, feeling against the walls in hopes of finding a way out. He’d have to find a way! The town depended on it.

“Isn’t there a way out of here!?” he shouted.

All of the sudden, a flash of light passed through the pit. Scoundrel could see where he was, clear as day. The space he was jammed in was about as wide as a small room and the walls around him looked to be higher than 100 feet. He’d never be able to find his way out!

Although Scoundrel wasn’t one to quit, especially in such a dire situation. Scoundrel discovered that the wall was flecked in ice chunks protruding out from along its length.

“They look like they could serve as sturdy footholds.” Scoundrel remarked. Although, he was only lying to himself, for nothing could be further from the truth. Many of the chunks looked as though they’d compromise under the weight of a butterfly. “I sure hope this works…”

Step by step, he slowly started scaling the wall. The footholds felt like they would give away at any moment, but Scoundrel ignored his dread. Nothing could hinder his mission; he was determined to make it to the top at all costs and he’d come too far to give in now. The ice cut into his hands, and he felt it tear at his skin each time he tried to pull his hand away. At every step, his feet slipped, and the boy feared he’d fall back onto the ground below. These concerns became stronger the higher he went, but they were muted out of Scoundrel’s mind. All that mattered now was reaching his goal... All that mattered now was the safety of Blackneck.

Ascending the icy wall was a backbreaking effort that would have seemed impossible to surmount byany other spectator. If I had been placed in such a situation, I probably would have never even considered the task. Although, to the town of Blackneck’s benefit, they probably had one of the most determined creatures on the face of the earth fighting for them. Even Scoundrel was unsure how such bravery had been instilled inside him, and I’m certain that question will be asked until the end of time. In my own view, I think that it was not purely bravery that drove Scoundrel, but a strong sense of purpose.

The cracking and splitting of ice overwhelmed his ears at each step he took and sometimes, the ledges would even give away. What filled Scoundrel with pure terror though was that the whole wall itself might fall to pieces. In spite of these ensuing battles raging against his focus, he somehow managed to make it up the wall in a steady crawl. However, his hurdles would only grew more numerous. First an aggressive intonation harassed Scoundrel’s eardrums. It was a deafening noise, like the buzzing of a thousand bees, that left his head throbbing, but this wasn’t even in the forefront of his mind anymore. The ice wall he clung to was melting, and at a rapid rate too. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to keep his ground when a crack split down the center of the wall. The whole structure was going to collapse at any moment. Craning his neck upwards to see how far he was from the top, he noticed the golden light illuminating ever brighter above him. What was going on?

That didn’t matter now, what mattered was that Scoundrel was only feet away from the surface, and the wall was on the verge turning to tatters. Just as it fell to pieces, Scoundrel leaped into the air, taking the large gamble that he’d land on safe ground. Too squeamish to witness what was taking place, he listened as the ice broke crisply below him, with his eyes shut tight.

He didn’t reopen them, until he hit the ground with a weighty thud, and he found himself staring eye to eye with Henry. To Scoundrel’s joy, he wasn’t gathering all his power to destroy the meagre town below as he’d dreaded. He could see quite clearly in the man’s face that he was different somehow… He seemed lighter, happier, and stretched across his face, an actual smile! The man’s body seemed to be experiencing its own change as well. It was set aglow with a golden blaze, in place of the bitter dark blue glaze that had covered it before. The ice that had encased him was falling off chunk by melted chunk, and Scoundrel watched each piece fell to the floor with a splash. When Scoundrel viewed the man closer, he realized that he was projecting the glow from his hands to Lucy. It seemed to be doing as he wished too; much of the ice encrusting her had dissipated!

“Joshua! You’re alive!” Henry cried, turning his head from his work, “You have no idea how overjoyed I am to see that you survived! I feared you were murdered by my unjust hand! You changed me ‘Joshua’, in ways you might never understand. I’m no longer the man you met before, but something new entirely. I hope that in years to come you will forgive me for how poorly I mistreated you!” There was no doubting the sincerity and remorse in Henry’s words. Nonetheless, Henry didn’t wait to hear Scoundrel’s response, and eagerly returned his focus to Lucy.

“Does… Does this mean that you’ll spare me?! Does this mean that you’re sparing the town!?” Scoundrel shouted over the roaring noise that Henry was creating.

Henry let out something like a laugh. His smile could have brought warmth into the coldest of days. “Yes! Of course!”

Henry then stopped what he was doing and looked around the room, “You might want to stand at the edge now,” he said pointing to a corner, “The whole place is melting away, I wouldn’t want it to collapse on you!”

Henry was right, the whole structurewasmelting away, as well as Henry himself. Everywhere Scoundrel looked, water was dripping and sloshing, as the room became an oven. Scoundrel laughed, “After what I’ve gone through today, it’s going to take a little bit more than a chunk of ice to kill me!”

Henry nodded solemnly, “Yes… Well, it’s time that I said goodbye now. I’ll be gone from this world for eternity. Yet, do not mourn for me, for, where I go now is a much better place.”

“What!?” Scoundrel shouted over the roaring wind. He could hardly believe his ears; Henry was leaving!

“Goodbye Scoundrel. You are something special. Never forget that… Take care of Blackneck for me.” With that, Henry gave a thick nod, and turned back to Lucy. Releasing more of the golden light from his hands, he spiraled into a breeze, like a leaf in the wind, traveling higher and higher. He brought the figure of Lucy gracefully spinning into the air with him as well, encasing her in a golden light that flooded her very soul. If you had been there to see it, you would have witnessed a dazzling spectacle of golden sparks flying all about as a whirlwind of light lifted itself further into the sky. The roof of the castle broke away in their ascent, with a shower of milky white shards reflecting the luscious moonlight illuminating above. Yes, it was moonlight, for it was late by now, and night had fallen over the mountain.

Covering his eyes and head, Scoundrel tucked into a ball; he’d already had his fair share of splinters for one day. When he reopened them, he found that Henry and Lucy had made their way high into the sky, merging with his view of the full moon, shining in a lactescent glow. As Scoundrel watched with wonder, and brushed the shards off of himself, Henry reopened his locket and began reciting the words inscribed upon it. Yet, it might as well been an entirely different man reading it. His words had a sweet melodious tune to it, like a poem. Scoundrel could tell, although he was far above him, that Henry was putting all his heart into every expression he uttered.

“To my beloved Lucy,” he began, “In remembrance that, even apart, our bond shall always remain.” What remained of the ice upon Lucy’s body immediately broke away, falling away as a golden dust. With Henry’s words finished, Scoundrel witnessed the two stare into each other’s eyes with beaming expressions upon their faces.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to see real peace on you again,” said Lucy, “I’m overjoyed to finally see you again as you are, without masks or shackles holding you down.”

“It pains me that I never will. Yet, what I do know is this; it has been much too long. Too long without my heart. Too long without my soul. Above all, it has been too long, much too long without you. But the past is dead, and as this day ends, a new one dawns. It is time that our kingdom was renewed to what it was once known as and we pass to a new adventure… It is time to make this place known as ‘The City of Gold’ once more.”

The most curious of things then took place. Both Lucy and Henry grew so bright that they no looked no longer human but like something quite different; something that was almost unearthly. Their faces illuminated like the moon, perfect and stainless. They still grew more brilliant, becoming as radiant as the stars in the heavens, if not that, more so. A strange ringing flew through the air, and a warm gust of wind blasted past Scoundrel. Suddenly, the two were glowing as vibrant as the sun, and then, there was no distinction between them any longer. It was just a single light, strong but true. It was so blinding, that the light of the moon had been completely drowned out from view. Then, as quick as it had formed, the light burst. Golden chunks scattered across the moonlit palace floor, breaking into a golden dust wherever it hit. It didn’t just effect the ice castle though; staring out the melting window, Scoundrel could clearly see clusters of these chunks streaking across the milky night sky, leaving behind trails of the golden dust behind them wherever they went. The mountain would probably look something like a zebra by sunrise. Nobody in town would ever believe his explanation when he told it to them! However, the dust sat in the back of Scoundrel’s mind, for quite a different thing was puzzling him. What had happened to Lucy and Henry? For a moment, Scoundrel thought that perhaps it had been a tragic accident, but then he remembered Henry’s last words.

“It is time to make this place known as the ‘City of Gold’ once more.”

Perhaps Henry had known what was going to happen… But how had Lucy known? How had Henry gained his strange new abilities? What had become of the locket?

While the rest of them would probably be left unanswered, one of Scoundrel’s many questions was acknowledged sooner than he’d expected… While he was racking his mind to explain what had happened, something came out of the sky and hit Scoundrel hard on the head with a sharp clunk.

“Blast those golden chunks!” he shouted rubbing his sore head. But, when studying the floor aroundhim, he found that he hadn’t been hit by one of the strange balls of golden dust, but a locket… It was Lucy’s locket; it hadn’t been destroyed after all! While Scoundrel knew it wasn’t his locket, there was something about it that calmed Scoundrel, that gave him a sense of connection to the man and woman that had so mysteriously disappeared. He might never see them again, but he could be certain that their memory would never fade as long as he had the locket. As Scoundrel placed the locket around his neck, exhausted from the events of the day, he felt the warm wind return once again. It tugged at the locket, until it lifted from Scoundrel’s hands, and into the air. Scoundrel watched in horror as it was whipped around wildly and lifted out of the roof of the castle. It didn’t stop until it crossed a bright star, one that looked to be almost golden. The moment the locket reached the light of the star, glimmering in its brightness, it fell back down to the floor of the castle. Very curious indeed… Had that star been there earlier, before Henry and Lucy had disappeared? Scoundrel couldn’t be sure; he wasn’t very good with stars. He knew one thing however; he hadn’t noticed this star before, and it stood out above the rest.

No matter, he could save it for the morning. Right now, he was ready for a well-earned sleep. Scoundrel grabbed the locket, and headed to the entrance of the castle for some rest… The events of the day had been exhausting, and he’d need to clear his head. Sleep came easier than he expected.

Chapter Nineteen

Making Amends

Scoundrel awoke on the damp floor of the castle to the sweet morning tune of a robin.

“Don’t they ever rest?” he moaned rubbing his sore body. He ached everywhere, the day prior certainly had been full of its fair share in falls and injuries. His stomach was just as bad, for a gnawing hunger filled it.

In spite of how painful it was, Scoundrel was fortunate beyond all odds that not a single bone in his body was broken. You would have thought that after a day without food or shelter and being knocked around like a rag doll, he’d be nothing but a lifeless sack of flesh and bones. But there was something about him that was tough; he didn’t break easily, and he had most likely fared better than any other person could have hoped.

This amazing revelation struck Scoundrel with a brutal force; against all odds, he had survived the day! He had made it into tomorrow!

“I’m alive!” he shouted, “I’m alive!” He couldn’t help but laugh. It was a laugh like none he’d ever felt in his life, it overtook him. In all of Scoundrel’s days, he’d used his laugh to overcome others, to leave people befuddled beyond all reason, but now, for the first time, it was befuddling him! Not to say that it was exactly an unpleasant experience, rather, it was actually relieving. After living out a day full of stress and trial, there was something about laughing that made it seem so distant, like a fragment of the past.

After a while of this, his laughs started to slow, and he was able to steady his breaths altogether. The room around him had been melting throughout the night, and Scoundrel saw that much of the structure had already given away. He needed to exit quickly. When Scoundrel prepared for the door, his eyes met with the crystals that had brought him into the mess. They still looked as delicate and beautiful as ever, perfect in design. They would be no harm to keep now either, with the Ice King being gone for good.

An idea popped into Scoundrel’s head: he could bring the crystals to Blackneck as a treaty! Maybe it wouldn’t work, but with the locket and all, he had a good chance of convincing the townspeople of theevents that had taken place the day prior; that he had changed his ways.

Quickly, Scoundrel started shoving the jewels into his satchel. This was wonderful! Unfortunately, as he was placing the crystals in the pack, his actions were halted by the sound of ice splitting and breaking away. Scoundrel looked up to see the roof filling with cracks, about to crumble in. He snatched up what he had in his satchel, and ran towards the exit of the castle, skidding across the floor as he went.

Dodging debris that had started falling, he feared that the castle would collapse on top of him before he made his way out. Yet, one way or another, he found himself alive, heaving heavy breaths on the doorstep of the castle, just before it fell to pieces.

“Is this how it’s going to be from now on?” asked Scoundrel sarcastically. He might have made it out of the castle, but all around him, the blocks of the ice that had once covered the lake were broken apart, leaving Scoundrel stuck on an island. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before he discovered that while he had been escaping the collapsing castle, a bulk of it had fallen into the water, leaving behind a somewhat sturdy bridge off the island.

Once he’d made it across the ice bridge, Scoundrel started bounding down the mountain, quick as a flash of light. He didn’t want to waste a moment of daylight. Scoundrel was certain that the townsfolk were already gawking at the golden striped mountain, and he didn’t want to miss the look on their faces when he explained the whole story to them all… That is, if he wasn’t driven away by a mob first…

Although, those thoughts didn’t faze Scoundrel at all. After what he’d been through, nothing seemed threatening to him. Whether or not the townsfolk accepted him mattered much less to him than making it known that he changed his heart. No longer would they have to fear they’d be robbed in their sleep, at least, not by his hand.

As Scoundrel ran down the hill, hooting and hollering happily all the way, he tripped over an odd lump of snow that sent him tumbling down towards the ground.

“Wha—What was that!?” a muffled voice moaned.

It was the voice of Bert, the man he’d been captured by only two days prior! Scoundrel swiftly started digging away at the snow, until he found something that looked like an oversized sausage buried in the wintry powder. After lifting it out and examining it closer, Scoundrel realized that Bert had been all rolled up into his tent after the blizzard.

“Who’s there!? What are ye’ doing! Show yerself now, or else! Me isn’t gonna go warning ya again!” Bert shouted. In truth, Bert was in no position to give out threats, considering the fact that he’d been rolled up in his tent and buried under a pile of snow for nearly two days. However, the man was as stubborn as an ox.

Scoundrel ignored Bert, and went off to search for John. While he knew he should have unraveled Bert from his powdery tent first thing, he wasn’t in the mood to explain himself to the raging buffoon. Instead Scoundrel simply left a pile of crystals beside him in hopes that Bert would break himself free from the tent, being relieved of the bondage of the snow.

“The man is probably delirious after the state he was in anyways. Bert is in no condition to talk with me,” Scoundrel reasoned to himself.

Luckily, it wasn’t long before Scoundrel found another mound of snow lumped on the ground, placed nearly ten yards from Bert. As Scoundrel dug into the pit, he found that John was submerged much further than Bert had been, with the hole being as far as Scoundrel’s waist when it was fully uncovered. Scoundrel managed to pull John out of the ground with only a slight hassle; still, the man felt heavier than a horse! Neglecting to unravel him as well, Scoundrel left another pile of crystals next to John in repayment for what he had done to them. Scoundrel slapped his hands together with a smirk, followed by a jubilant laugh. What a puzzle it would be to the two men once they uncovered themselves from their bondage!

Scoundrel knew he didn’t have much time before Bert and John would escape their coverings, so he headed off for the small town of Blackneck. It was true that the liberation of the two lumberjackswasn’t the most noble of rescues, and that Scoundrel would go on to regret it in later years, but right now, those thoughts were pushed to the back of the scamp’s mind. Scoundrel’s current goal was straight for the town to redeem himself, and nothing would change that.

For those wondering, both Bert and John would eventually go on to free themselves, while it was quite an ordeal. Yet, that is another story.

Down the mountain, Scoundrel’s light feet carried him on, grazing hastily over the golden trails left along a fresh layer of snow. The thought of how the town might be reacting tickled him, and he snickered as he conceived the most nonsensical scenes. Yet nearing the town, his spirit of levity immediately changed to somber.

After a great deal of running, Scoundrel felt a flush of relief as he passed the old crumbling huts that he’d known since birth, and the familiar roads that he’d grown to love so much. The mildew smell of rotting wood in the air, and the soft squish of his feet treading on the muddy dirt path forced a beaming smile. He would have never believed this in days prior, but out of all the things he missed, it had been his town and his townsfolk most of all. A leaden guilt drenched him when he remembered how much he’d mistreated it, but he shoved those thoughts away. Right now, he was on a mission to ask for vindication from that. He would start anew, as hard as he knew it would be. It was apparent he’d probably never be accepted as a true member of the town, but whatever became of him, making this choice felt right. Scoundrel would never be the same again after the day he had gone through… For the first time, that revelation was consoling.

Scoundrel headed for the meeting square that was held in the center of the town. It was a modest space; about as big as a small pond, that was cleared out of the town. There wasn’t much else to it; it was just a big square of mud bordered by a few sorry excuses for buildings.

When Scoundrel arrived, he found a mass of people gaping at the golden-striped mountain. Before he let anyone see him, he dove behind a shabbily built barrel tucked into the corner of a building. He did this partly out of habit, and partly out of anxiety from entering the meeting at a fragile moment. All he had to do was expose himself while they were speaking him, and he’d have a mob running after him. He wasn’t going to come out of behind the barrel until the time was right.

He listened as the people bickered over what the cause of the golden streaks and the halting of the blizzard had been.

“It’s the Ice King!” said one.

“No, it’s the blasted robber!” shouted another, “It’s another one of his pranks!”

“The wolves must’ve done it! I think that they dipped their tales in some mud, and rubbed them up and down the mountain!” a third declared. He wiped his nose with his sleeve once finished, and displayed the nasty yellow smear on it to the rest of the townsfolk as if to prove his absurd claim.

The conversation halted after that third suggestion. This was partly due to its apparent irrationality, but mostly it was because the suggestion helped them recognize that the debate was running in flimsy circles. They wouldn’t find their answer unless they climbed the mountain themselves, but they wouldn’t climb the mountain themselves unless they knew it was safe, and they couldn’t know if it was safe unless they had their answer.

Scoundrel’s brow deepened and his limbs quaked. As reluctant as he was, he could take it no longer; he needed to tell them the truth. Scoundrel arose from behind the barrel and walked over to the center of the square with weighty steps and his head turned to the ground. All the townspeople turned their gaze to him in alarm.

“I have the answer…” he said, raising his arms in surrender. To his shock, the angry faces he’d expected to fill the square didn’t appear, nobody said a word.

Finally, somebody piped up. “And who are you supposed to be? I’ve never seen a boy like you before.” a woman asked quizzically.

Scoundrel’s face turned red. Didn’t anyone recognize him? How could they have already forgotten him?! His wanted posters had covered every building in town at one point, until the blizzard sweptthem away!

“I’m Scoundrel!” he said incredulously.

The scene only grew more stupefying as he watched the crowd stare at him in disbelief

“Scoundrel? That can’t be ye!” a lumberjack shouted, “I saw ‘im… err… ye… only yesterday! Where’s yer’ pale sickly skin, yer colorless vengeful face or yer twisted mischievous grin? Ye don’t even talk like ‘im! Ye ain’t Scoundrel!”

The boy was dumbfounded! Had there really been a noticeable change in himself since the day before?! It was true that he had changed his speech…

“No, I’m Scoundrel! Look, I still have the scars on my arms from the attack yesterday, I still have the tears on my wrists from the ropes that were bound to them!”

The lumberjack nearly fell over and the color drained from his face. “That’s it boy. Ye better pipe out yer story and pipe it fast! Me needs an explanation! This don’t make no sense, no sense at all!”

What had happened? Scoundrel wasn’t sure; perhaps his change had taken place by the fountain, or after he’d fallen from the abyss in the castle. Whatever had taken place, Scoundrel needed to recount all that had transpired.

“It’s best that I began at the very start…” Scoundrel said. He then proceeded to bring the crowd along with him through the journey he had taken through the mountain. Nothing was left out; not even the story he told to the dragon. Most of them listened with skeptical looks, while others, like the lumberjack, soaked it all in, enthralled. Once Scoundrel had completed his tale, he dumped out his jewels from his sack onto the ground, and revealed the locket he had spoken of. At this point, all doubt had faded from the crowd’s eyes, and they looked at Scoundrel with a new admiration.

“As I said, I’ve changed my ways. I no longer will rob you, break into your homes, or vandalize the town. I also no longer desire to go by the name of ‘Scoundrel’, because that isn’t my identity. I now want to go by my true name Joshua. I hope that these gifts will be a symbol for a fresh peace between us and that, in time, I’ll be accepted as one of you. Also, the mine shaft I discovered should be abounding with more jewels and gold than this town can hold. It should be able to replenish our ‘kingdom’ to what it once was.”

At this point, the mayor had stepped out of the crowd with an exuberant grin, preparing to speak with the reformed scoundrel, Joshua.

“We are grateful beyond all measure for your deeds—Joshua is it? Where do you plan to go next from this?”

Joshua laughed. “First, I’d like to return to my shack. It has been a good while since I’ve seen it, and I need a good rest after what I’ve been through. Also, I think it’s time that I returned the items I’ve stolen.”

The mayor’s face turned red, knowing all too well that the shack had been torn down in Joshua’s absence, and the items had been removed. But, he simply nodded his head in signal that Scoundrel was dismissed, and went back to marvel at the new gems, as well as discuss plans concerning the new developments.

Joshua was overjoyed with how well everything had gone. He ran with all his might to his home, singing and dancing all the way. He brought quite the scene, and everybody that viewed him could tell with clarity that he wasn’t the same boy he had been.

None of that mattered to Joshua though. All that mattered was that it felt amazing to finally have all the weights and guilt removed from his heart. Although, it wasn’t long until he was called back by a shrill shout.

“Scoundrel!!! You rotten little beast!! These gems are merely icicles! They’re already melting!!”

In time, after years had passed, the town of Blackneck was restored into its former glory, and once again called ‘The City of Gold’. The dwarves that Joshua claimed to be in the mountain were never found, but the people of Blackneck flourished in their newfound wealth in the mines. The Mayor wasultimately promoted to the role of king, and the castle was rebuilt in its rightful place in the mountain.

As for the star that Joshua had discovered in the sky, once it was found people found, observed that it always stood in its place, being named “Polaris” for always pointing north, a new occurrence which puzzled many. It became a guide for those who were lost on the mountain, and led the way throughout its hilly terrain.

Now, most of you might be wondering about Joshua, and what had become of him. Well, his adapting came gradually to say the least, and he wasn’t always the easiest child to deal with, nor was he ever quite accepted amongst the other children he grew up with. Although, he did end up finding a place in a new family, and, as he grew older and matured, became a respected member of the community. He never did run into another strange adventure with the warm wind under the old Craggleback Mountain. While he claimed that it was only leaving its secrets to be unlocked by another, in all his days, he never did hear another person speak of the strange warm wind he’d experienced so often in that lonely mountain. Some would go on to say that he was a liar and that his tale was made up. Others would say that he’d only dreamt the whole ordeal and it had never happened. Although, no matter what one says, their word isn’t worth a cent. Rather, I know that the story of Blackneck is true, or the “Curse of Blackneck,” as you might put it. Do you want to know how I know such things and why I am so certain that every event on ol’ Craggleback Mountain happened?

It is because Iwasthat nasty old Scoundrel, the raider of Blackneck. I saw the whole thing with my own two eyes. The scars from the journey still reside on my skin, and my memories, they don’t change like those of a dream would. For a dream is only a fading glimpse of a potential reality, but that’s not so with the tale of Blackneck. It was as real as you or me, and the change that it instilled in me was even more so. In all my years, people have tried to deny that such could have happened, they said it was impossible. Although, I tell you now that nothing is impossible, this world is only limited by your own faith and willingness to let your imagination roam free. The time on this earth is too short to submit to ignorance, so never let yourself think otherwise… Don’t let anybodymakeyou think otherwise…

Epilogue

At those last words, “Don’t let anybody make you think otherwise,” the old man closed the dusty yellowing book he had been reading, and straightened himself in his aging rocking chair. He sat in a small dark room, in a cottage, warmed by a cozy fireplace. The fire left behind a warm red glow, almost as if to say that the day was coming to an end. Resting peacefully as he settled into his seat, with his eyes nearly shut, the man exhaled a deep breath. He listened to nothing but the steady beat of his own heart.

His face was worn with age, his hair was silvered and he looked exhausted from what must have been a dragging day. Yet, only across from him sat a little girl, as energetic as ever, staring at him with her bright cheery eyes full of wonder.

“Are you certain that Blackneck and Lucy became a star?” she asked, hopping up and down on her bed.

The old man straightened himself up and heaved himself out of his chair with a creak.

“One can never be too certain…” the old man said softly, tucking the little girl in, “But, if I had to give a definite answer, I’d say yes. Now it’s time that you went to sleep; it’s far too late in the night forlittle girls to be staying up.”

The child frowned but managed to close her eyes anyways as she sunk into her straw mattress, “Do—do you think that I might ever meet the warm wind?” she asked with a sleepy yawn.

“Maybe…” he whispered, “But little girls need their sleep to be wide awake when it does come. Goodnight.” The old man gave a kiss on the little girl’s cheek and left the room, taking care as he shut the door behind him.

Just as the girl was dipping into a deep sleep under her covers, her head filling with visions of worlds far off and adventures to mysterious places, the shutters in the room flapped open, and a warm gust of wind flooded the room…