Ice Shards - By Yasmine Galenorn Page 0,19
with hair as black as midnight, and eyes as piercing blue as my own. She stretched out her hand and the valley below came alive with deer and white hares, foxes and cardinals darting from tree to tree, their red a siren song in the endless vista of white.
“This is my realm, this is my land. And there walks my daughter.”
A young woman, or she might have been ancient—I could not tell, but my senses cried out “youth”—walked across the field, the animals gathering at her feet as she silently glided through the snow. Her hair was long and silver, with hints of violet streaking it, and her dress was gossamer and sheer as lace. She glanced up at us and smiled, waving.
“The Lady of the Mists,” I whispered, suddenly recognizing the girl. She was an Elemental Lord—or Lady, as the case might be. “She is your daughter? I did not know she was a goddess.”
“Yes, she is my daughter, but she is not a goddess. Her father is the Holly King, and therefore she takes her place as one of the Immortals. Even the gods die, but the Immortals live on, forever, as long as the world beneath our feet lives.” Undutar knelt by my side. “I chose you for a reason, Pirkitta. Your path will be neither easy nor comfortable, not for a long, long time to come. But you are mine, and all will play out in the end.”
And then she kissed my forehead and her mark sang through me like the morning sun, warming me, blossoming out into my heart, and I knew I would forever love and cherish her.
“Do you accept me, child?”
“I do. I am yours, by heart and soul, by blood and bone, by breath and life.” My breath caught in my chest. Whatever she asked of me, it was hers. If she commanded me to rip out my heart and hand it up to her on a platter, I would willingly do so.
“Then I name you my Ar’jant d’tel. You are Chosen of the Gods, and you will train for the position of High Priestess. You will be my incarnation in the world and my voice. Remember me when times are bleak. I will always be at your side, regardless of what others say.”
A silver buzz began to fill my head and I tried to focus, but it swept me under the layers of swirling fog. I rose into the air, arms outstretched, through layers of rock and stone and bone and ice, until all around me swirled the sparkling mist, a vortex of vapor, a whirlwind of whistling snow and my heart felt frozen through, as the ice clung to my body, melting through my flesh, sinking deep into my blood.
In my veins, the freezing rain took hold, blended into my very essence, singing its magic into the cells that made up my body and soul, and the world began to expand. I sucked in a deep breath as my Lady spun me round and round, a marionette on strings. Her laughter flowed like honey in my ears, her songs were siren’s breath, and I knew that no matter what she would always be with me, because I was now a part of her.
At the core of my being, I was no longer alone. Undutar was with me.
Joy took hold, the snowflakes whirling in time to the music that raced by on the wind. I wanted to dance and sing. The Lady had chosen me, I was her handmaiden. I was Ar’jant d’tel—and I would someday be her voice.
Visions of leading her rituals in the temple, of walking in her glory through the rest of my days, of being the Priestess Incarnate washed over me and I dropped my head back and let out a slow, luxurious laugh.
At that moment, I noticed someone coming into view, through the astral fields of magic and mist, and he was glorious. He was not a sprite, but human, albeit quite short. His long dark hair tumbled to his shoulders, and his eyes were molten pools of chocolate. He was fair of face, though his jaw had a vaguely rugged look to it. He was slight of build, but the power in his walk—he was no acolyte.
He wore robes as blue as the summer morning, and when he saw me his eyes lit up with a warmth that immediately sucked me in.
“Vikkommin, my High Priest–to-be, meet Pirkitta, Ar’jant d’tel, who will one day take her