The End of Winter
by Khore
By-Tor longed to see the sun rise again. The dark of night still clutched all the wastelands in her embrace. Soon, her grip would fade, her strength would wane, and her resolve falter. It was the way of things in this unforgiving land: a cycle unending and unchanging. Then the sun would rise and bathe the ice crags in light. By-Tor would not be there to see it.
In its shape and form, the cave was not unlike the hundreds of others that dotted the labyrinthine crevasses. Every morning, before dawn, By-Tor arrived. Every dawn, he would long to see first light spill over the horizon.
Dawn arrived, and the cave glowed with light that suffused through its translucent ice walls.
Yards away, the sunrise he longed so deeply to see bled in through the cave's entrance. By-Tor did not move.
He knelt, as he knelt for days too numerous to count. There was no numbness on his bare knees against the ice and physical discomfort had melted away in the multitude of years that had passed.
He raised his head and beheld her. She was his dawn.
Her skin was soft and the color of snow. The mighty ice pillar that joined the ceiling and the floor was smooth and clear, with a hint of blue. It encased her. Her hair flowed like river of gold, each strand carefully sequestered in its icy prison. Her eyes were closed, though By-Tor knew their hue and saw it every time he dreamed. She haunted his sleep those rare occasions slumber found him.
He mourned at her outstretched hands, arranged by some cruel fate to seem the beginning of an embrace that could never be fulfilled. Not yet.
Today, I will kill the Snowdog.
It was an oath, a promise, each day unfulfilled. It was an oath that, to him, had never been broken. True, the sun would set today, and he might not find the Snowdog. True, the sun had set every day since he had first made the oath, and the Snowdog yet lived. To By-Tor, it was all one day, one oath; one long and icy night he trudged through in his quest. He hunted through the night, and never saw the dawn.
He rose and left the cave in silence after the sun was already in the sky. The snow took time and meandered in drifting down. The blizzard never ceased, but it rested on some days, corralling its strength for days it drove the ice so hard it sliced through hardened leather.
By-Tor wore no leather. Only a fur skirt and a wooly head of hair shielded him from the omnipresent blizzard.
He looked upon the snow, his practiced eyes hunting for the trail. Two travelers headed west. One walked with an uneven gait, doubtless from some injury. A horse leading a cart. The horse was weak and would likely die, assuring the cart's occupants a similar fate. A dragonling, too engorged with food to fly. These tracks, he all ignored.
Beneath them, buried by heavy snow and proficient stealth, were paw prints too large to be a wolf's. He raced off into the snow, once again on the trail of the Snowdog.
Today, I will kill the Snowdog. Today, I will end the winter.
By-Tor sped through the snow, his breaths a fog of mist. The tracks were fresh, but the Snowdog moved quickly, and the snow threatened to bury it faster than he could follow. The sun ascended higher as he chased. Drips of his sweat burrowed little pits in the snow where they fell next to his own prints stretched behind him. The Snowdog's tracks were getting deeper. Less snow was in them; he was getting closer.
The blizzard intensified, and now the snow assailed him from the sides. Tiny icicles hung from the locks of his hair and beard. In the blinding white, he steamed like a cloud from the heat of his exertion. Single-minded, he followed the tracks that were getting deeper still, despite the growing anger of the storm.
They veered off into a cave, and By-Tor entered.
The rock cave was quiet save his heavy breaths. The walls here were not translucent, and the fur on the ground suggested a bear had once slumbered in the darkness and relative warmth. Ever so slightly, some hairs had moved, showing fresh earth underneath. The Snowdog had moved through here, its steps light and without haste.
By-Tor followed the tracks deeper into the cave until the darkness engulfed him and the tracks became invisible. He gripped his ax and murmured a command. The ax head began to glow. In the dim light, he knelt down and touched the earth, placing his hand upon a print. It remained warm to touch. He stalked forward in silent resolution.
He turned a bend and arrived at a dead end. The Snowdog's shoulders reached as high as his own did. No earthly snow ever gleamed as white as the Snowdog's mane. Feral eyes gleamed yellow in the light of the ax. It studied him and did not attempt to escape.
"Forgive me," By-Tor said.
He lunged forward and swung the ax high over his head and down against the Snowdog. Its body slammed against the cave wall and the monstrous wound stained its pelt a scarlet red. Its yellow eyes affixed By-Tor and he could only read a pained curiosity before they shut and the life fled from them.
He slung the mighty animal across his back and labored back to the ice cave. It was deep in the night by the time he arrived.
He walked up to the pillar, and dropped the Snowdog's body at its base.
The blood pooled around the pillar. By-Tor watched in awe as the pillar melted away, dissolving into steam.
She opened her eyes. Blue, as deep as any blue he had ever known. She gazed upon him with sorrow and sadness.
"Come to me, By-Tor," she said, arms outstretched.
By-Tor rushed into her arms, then fell to his knees, buried his face against her chest and sobbed.
She stroked his hair, and where she touched, the ice melted away from him.
"Can the winter end now?" By-Tor asked.
She reached down and lifted his chin. Tears streaked his strong face and his eyes brimmed with hope. She smiled at him, all the sadness in her eyes reflected on her lips.
"No, the winter cannot end."
"But why? I have killed the Snowdog; you are free. You can make the winter end. It holds you prisoner no longer. The land and I both long for the warmth of spring. Please, make the winter end."
"Oh, By-Tor. My sweet hero. Have you never noticed your tribe has left these lands? You are the last. Only you believe in me anymore. Only you can set me free."
He gazed up at her eyes, his visage clouded by confusion.
"But-I have set you free!"
She caressed his face with the back of her hand, wiping away a tear that evaporated as she touched it.
"Yes. You are my hero. My love. My sweet By-Tor. You have set me free. But I cannot make the winter end."
"But why?"
"Because if I do, you will die."
"I-I do not understand."
"It is our price. It is our punishment. When dawn comes, if I have not ended the winter, it will imprison me until you set me free. But if I end the winter, its end will mean your life's end as well."
Her eyes misted and she brought her hands to her mouth.
"By-Tor, it is because of my selfishness that I cannot bear to see you die. These stolen moments are all I have of you, and I would spare you what pain I can, but I cannot let you die. Forgive me for that weakness."
"Tell me what I must do! Ask for ocean and I will bring it to you one thimble at a time."
She lowered her head and closed her eyes.
"We would have to climb to the heavens and murder the gods. Their jealousy of our love binds us to our fate, my hero."
"I will never stop until you are free, I swear it."
"Nor will I lift winter while your mortal heart still beats."
"I have died more every day I have seen you in the pillar than if the snows should melt and the winter end. End it, and free yourself."
"Oh, By-Tor," she said, "I cannot do this thing!"
The cave walls glowed ochre as the sun prepared to break the horizon outside.
"The dawn comes too quickly! It is almost upon us!"
She reached down, placed her hands on his cheeks, and brought her lips against his.
"Forgive me, By-Tor, again," she said. "One more stolen kiss for me, and once again, I lift the burden of your memory of this. Good night, my sweet hero."
She took a step backwards, as his head dropped down.
The Snowdog stood, and shook its body. Its mane was a dazzling white. It trotted past By-Tor and dashed out into the blizzard and snow.
By-Tor raised his head and beheld her, encased in a pillar of ice. Her eyes were shut, her arms outstretched.
Today, I will kill the Snowdog. Today, I will end the winter.