The Crystal Rose: Chapter 4
Snowfall crashed and swirled down like vengeful spirits, eating away at their tracks. Vim felt a shiver go through his bones. How long until they couldn't find the way back—until they started moving in circles?
“We should've reached it by now.” Lannel flicked open his pocket watch for the hundredth time, wiping away the frost with his thumb. “We should've reached it ages ago!”
Vim didn't respond. How could he, when he didn't disagree? From behind, a soft scraping noise touched his ear. He could make out the blue-gray fur of the child yeti leaping across the snow, the entire supply crate slung across its back as if it were feathers. Admirable for someone—or thing—of so small stature, to say the least.
Winds roared past, while the sky was beginning to turn a purple hue. Vim wasn't much of a navigator, but it was hours too early for the sun to be setting, meaning only one thing. He imagined the Glacierwind sweeping past, erasing any trace that they ever existed. The headlines were there already, “Expedition's Folly! Forty-two Missing.” Shaking his head, Vim reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled drawing of the Rose.
There was a yell from somewhere ahead. Before he could react, a cannonball of wind crashed into him, only inches short from sending him off his feet. The slip of paper was torn into the winds. He watched as it twirled away from him, dangling across the snow, so delicate—only to come to a stop as two gray fingers plucked it mid-flight.
The ape-like creature seemed to be impervious to the gales. It stood there, tilting its head left and right as it ran its fingers over the page.
“Hey!” Vim staggered up on all fours. The picture may not have meant much, but he didn't want the yeti to eat it or anything. The creature paused, then seemed to understand, unfurling the page with calm motions.
It froze. The two deep eyes flickered with something—recognition, maybe. With a crunch, the yeti leaped across the snow, letting out cries and making sign-like gestures with its free hand.
Was it trying to communicate? Vim shook his head. “Sorry, I don't understand.”
The yeti looked down with a visible breath, scratching its chin. After a moment, it clapped its hands and held up a finger. It pointed to the picture, then to Vim's mouth, making chewing motions with its teeth. He caught the meaning at once. Did he want to eat the Rose?
Vim shook his head again. He reached into his other pocket and pulled out the photo of his daughter, pointing to it and making the same chewing gesture. “It's not for me. It's for her.”
The yeti nodded and pointed far off to the right. Vim frowned. There didn't seem to be anything there. The ape let out an almost exasperated cry and made large, towering gestures with its arms, then spun back to the picture and made digging motions, as if...planting something?
Vim finally caught the meaning. There is a big building in that direction, with many flowers. He made a thumbs up gesture, though he didn't know if it understood, and broke off in a sprint. Snow went up in puffs as he ran past the back-end of the group, earning more than a few stares doing so. “Sira!”
The old lady stared as he stood crouched over, out of breath. “Vim? What's wrong?”
“The yeti...” Vim took a deep breath. “I think it knows where the Gardens are.”
Sira gave him a questioning look. Vim explained how it had tried to communicate with him.
“Fascinating. I suppose it isn't too out of hand, considering our close ancestry, but—“
“There's no telling how much time we have left,” he said. “We have to tell Lannel.”
The old woman nodded. They drew up to the front of the crowd, where Lannel was checking his silver pocket watch yet again.
“We're going the wrong way,” Vim said, feeling his lungs burn.
Lannel cocked his head. Vim gave a condensed summary of what the yeti had told him, and how the Gardens were likely in that direction.
The expedition leader gave him a look. “Are you sure about this? It may just be imitating something it saw, you know.”
“For Radiance's sake Lannel,” Sira said. “It's as good as a chance as any, and far better than going in circles until we freeze to death.”
“I...suppose.” Lannel glanced at the waiting mass of thirty-nine people, and let out a breath. “But you better hope you're right about this.”
“I know I am,” Vim said, chest out, voice loud, so that everyone knew of his certainty. Everyone except him, that was.
Sighing, Vim picked up his bag and trudged behind the yeti, hoping hard it knew where it was going.
An hour of marching could accomplish a lot; Vim knew that better than anyone, but to go from an empty void to the sight before their eyes—to a scene that knocked the breaths out of everyone with just one glimpse?
“By the gods,” Lannel said. “This can't be real.”
Fields of flowers in every hue stretched out across the snow, filling the featureless wasteland with a thousand lights. Above, the sun shone with intensity that could only be matched on the brightest day of the year. Forget winter, it was as if they had stepped right into the lush embrace of springtime.
He bent his knees beside one of the plants, admiring the crystal-clear petals. The flowers seemed almost transparent in the light...
No, they were actually transparent. Vim rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing things. Each flower, though subtle, was completely see-through, like stained glass. He touched one with his fingers—jerking them back the instant they made contact. Flakes of frost clung onto his skin.
His eyes widened as he understood. These weren't some magical plants that could grow in the cold. Each and every one of them was made of ice, carefully sculpted to look as if they were real.
Vim held the picture of the Crystal Rose up to the sunlight, the blue and white colors of winter clear in the drawing. Despite having every other color imaginable though, nothing in the field had the color of actual ice, nor did any of them resemble roses. He let out a sigh.
A crunching of fur against snow came from behind. The yeti jumped and waved with frantic motions, jabbing its finger down the path of ice.
Was it telling them to keep going? Before Vim could communicate further, a cry came from down the road. He scrambled up to his feet.
Not too far from him stood Norlen, the one-eared man, arm trembling as he held onto the black-and-gold telescope. Lannel stood next to him, an impatient look coloring his features. “Speak up, man, what's wrong?”
The man let out a sputter somewhere between terror and utter disbelief. Lannel snatched the telescope from the man's hand and pushed him aside. The moment he looked through the lens, he froze in the same way. “Oh no.”
“I don't know how long we have sir, maybe a minute or—“
“It doesn't matter.” Lannel folded up the telescope and dropped it into his pocket. Vim could see the sweat forming on his palm. “Tell everyone to get moving.”
Norlen bounded towards the others as if the hounds were at his heels. Vim grabbed Lannel's arm. “What's going on here?”
Something shifted in the man's eyes. His friend seemed to sag, like the years had abandoned him all at once. “The Glacierwind is here.”
From the edge of the horizon, Vim could barely make out the wall of white approaching at breakneck speeds, shifting and rumbling like boiling water.
For centuries, the people of Eihon had told tales of the Glacierwinds, or “land-waves,” as they called it in their native tongue. They would sing about how the raging storms could level hills and sweep away villages with their monstrous strength.
The one rushing at Vim could grind mountains to dust and sweep away entire cities. Frantic cries and screams were drowned out by the raging ice. Somehow, Lannel remained at the forefront of the crowd, his voice rising up above the rest. “The castle! Head into the castle!”
Chunks of ice hurled out from the white wave. Far ahead, Vim could make out the faint outline of a cool blue glow, shining like a beacon in the tempest of snow. His dry tongue stuck to his mouth's roof.
This was going to be close.
The gales enveloped them in a tornado of ice. Joints cracked, ligaments popped. Every breath he took was accompanied with a mouthful—and accompanying hacking out—of snow. He couldn't even see his own arms through the white, and to make things worse, some fool was screaming at the top of their lungs.
It took him a moment to realize that he was the one screaming.
Somewhere to the front, or maybe from the back, Lannel was barking out order after order, each word drowned out by the fury of the ice. Even so, it was comforting in a way to know that there was someone as terrified as they were, yet still managing to do their jobs.
A shadow passed over them. Vim had to blink to make sure he was seeing things correctly. It was a fortress of towering bricks, taller than any skyscraper and larger than any castle. It could fit a thousand—no—tens of thousands of his apartments stacked on top of each other.
Air rumbled and whistled as it tried to get out of the way. Not two inches from where his head was, a bowling ball sized chunk of ice zipped past. Vim shuddered.
“Just a little more to go!” Sira's voice cut through, clear and fine. It was a testament to the woman's ability that they managed to hear it over the noise. The snow seemed to grow weaker in the front, to the point where Vim almost thought the storm was weakening. Then he saw it.
Two massive gates that could dwarf the tallest giants rose into the heavens, twin guardians of ice. They were closed—not that it meant much, even an elephant could fit in the small gap there was—but that did little to stop the crowd. Vim let out a wail of a battle cry as he charged.
The rest of the adventurers joined him. A thundering explosion came from above, something massive smashing into the impenetrable gates. There was silence for a moment as a low thrum of energy vibrated through the earth.
Then it happened. Countless ice-boulders came crashing down, a thousand falling stars. Vim scrambled out of the way of one meteor, only to have another barrel down right in his path, with a third one dropping down to his left—bullets of ice harrying him all the way. He let out a growl and darted to the right, falling in with the crowd.
His legs burnt, his muscles ached, his blood pumped. Ice blasted all around him like dynamite. The shower of crystal shards forced him to shut his eyes. Another chunk came whirling towards him. Limb or life. Vim spun and took the blow to his side.
It was like it knocked his soul out. There was a sickening snap as his shoulder broke. A shard sliced into his ribs. Everything started to go numb. He couldn't go on. Vim felt his eyes slowly close...
An image of Ashe flickered past, waiting, all alone in that damp hospital room. Vim let out a roar, throwing his bulk against the wind. He would make it back even if it crippled him, even if it killed him! The ice pounded against him. His legs were more snow than flesh. It was like a waterfall had opened, showering him with hail and boulders and mountains and—
Everything was quiet. Vim opened his eyes, gasping for air. It was dark.
“Everyone alright?” Lannel asked. There was the thwip of a match against wood, and the world burst into life. A unison of croaking grunts and half-breaths came out in response.
The rest of the adventurers weren't in much better condition than he was. Still, by his count—often more right than wrong—the number of people seemed to be about the same. It was relieving, in a way.
Vim felt himself slink down onto one knee. His left arm was turning purple. The room swirled in his vision, and the ground came rushing towards him.
“Easy there, big guy,” a woman said. A dozen blurry hands came out of the darkness, lifting him up.
The last thing he could remember, before passing out, was the face of Sira Dalson looking down at him.