A Hard Winter

Ripley wished, not for the first time, that there were more habitable buildings in Samūha. The rickety old barn they huddled in now had so many holes and so little insulation that there was almost nothing to stop the bitter winter cold from streaming across their little living space. She tucked her hands further into her armpits and shuffled over to where Ani lay on her sleeping pallet.

“How’re you holding up?” Ripley asked the knight in a quiet voice as she moved aside the woman’s sword to kneel at her side.

The tall knight seemed more lean than usual and her dark skin had a sickly sheen. Ripley leaned away as Ani coughed into her elbow. “Awful. Truly awful. I never get sick, Ripley, it does not happen.”

Leah, Ripley’s sister, laughed from where she sat cleaning her rifle a few pallets away from Ani. “She complains about it nonstop,” Leah announced as she wiped a streak of dirt away from her freckled cheek. “I’m pretty sure Elexis is sick of it.”

Ani sneezed then fixed Leah with a glare. “Elexis is not sick. I have not so much as kissed her since I fell ill.”

“Well, you’ve never lived in an old barn with twenty other people in the dead of winter.” Ripley chuckled as she dug a vial out of her pocket and handed it over to the knight. “Here. Mom and Lyudmila cooked this up this morning. It should help clear your lungs.”

“Great,” Ani muttered as she took the vial. “More coughing.”

Ripley patted Ani’s shoulder before moving off to where her mother, Margie, hovered over Lydia’s sleeping form. It was demoralizing to see Lydia so still; for such a powerful Scythian Sister to look so weak seemed wrong. But even one of the Order could still fall prey to fatigue and illness.

“Hey,” Margie whispered as Ripley knelt down beside the Scythian Sister’s pallet.

“How is she?”

Margie shrugged and rubbed her tired eyes. “Not great. Lyudmila says she hit power overload. Tried healing too many people and just passed out.”

“She’ll be alright,” Ripley assured her mother. “Just keep her warm.”

“Maddox looks worried,” Margie said with a pointed look at where Ripley’s future husband sat staring pensively at the floor, his broad shoulders slumped and his brawny arms resting on his muscular thighs. “Is he feeling alright?”

“He saw too many Scythians die of power overload during the Rebellion. He’s worried the same thing will happen again here.”

“Well, it might, if this cold doesn’t break.”

Ripley’s lips thinned and she gave her mother a brief nod. “It’ll break. We’ve got to be getting close to the end of winter. We’ll make it.” She leaned in and whispered, “I can have Mildred send you guys back to Earth. No harm, no foul, you can just go back.”

Margie shook her head hard until her long grey hair tangled around her face. “I’m staying. I can help them; I can heal whoever gets too sick.”

“Alright. But let me know if you change your mind.”

From the corner of Ripley’s eye, she caught sight of her sisters, Leah and Corrie, passing out a breakfast of thin but warm gruel. They were running low on grain and there would be no more harvests until spring. Soon they might need to send out a hunting party again, though their last few expeditions had found little in the way of success. Even the animals were struggling to survive.

Ripley took two bowls from Corrie with a grateful nod. “Your roots are growing out,” Ripley told her with a teasing grin.

Corrie rubbed her pale, thin hand against where her purple hair had begun to show its true dark brown color and frowned. “Not like I can run out to a drugstore,” she shot back.

Ripley chuckled and went to sit beside Maddox. She held a bowl out toward him and, after a long pause, he took it and let out a long sigh. Ripley moved aside a chunk of his long, curly black hair to press a kiss against his cold cheek.

“Hey, bebe. How’re you doing?”

Maddox shrugged. “I feel so helpless, Ripley.”

“Come on, we made it through the Emergence and through the war with the Suṭō. We can make it through this.”

“Can we?” Maddox set his bowl down with a frustrated grunt. “We fought so hard and lost so many, only to be wiped out by something as simple as a hard winter. My people are dying, Ripley, and there I nothing I can do. My sword is useless against the wind; my armor and shield cannot protect them from illness.”

Ripley shook her head. “It’s hard to not let yourself get depressed,” she told him as she picked up his bowl and pressed it into his hands. “But we’re almost through winter and we’ve only lost a couple people. I think we’ll be ok. Eat your food. It’s almost sundown.”

Ripley waited until he took a bite before setting into her own bowl. She’d need the strength. Since they’d come here, she’d used her magic to warm not just this barn but every building where her people had taken refuge. At first she’d been able to warm them every night but, as supplies ran out and illness set in, she could only manage it every three days. The fatigue was just too much.

Maddox stared at her as she finished her meal. “Are you sure you are feeling up to it tonight?” he asked.

Ripley set her empty bowl down and gave him a smile. “I think I’ll be ok. Just be ready to catch me when I fall.”

Through the cracks in the walls, Ripley could see darkness as she stood. Night had fallen and, with it, the cold had intensified. This had become the most dangerous time for them; one person had frozen to death before they had learned to sleep pressed together to conserve their body heat. It was uncomfortable, yes, and there was no privacy, but it was the only way to survive.

Ripley closed her eyes. She’d had plenty of practice and now she could almost forget about the demon in her chest, the possession that had nearly ruined everything. She pictured phantom hands reaching down into her chest, past the icy cold kernel of Ikuutayuq’s corruption, and plunged them down into her seat of power. The Light curled up in her phantom palms and she pulled it out into the real world.

It hurt, as it always did. Like fire racing along her skin, tracing lines of agony and filling her bones with broken glass. But she focused through the pain, directed the magic so that it flowed away from her instead of her burning her alive. Through it she could feel every living soul here, feel their weariness and fear. These were the last remnants of Cēna Barēkara, the brave few who had made it through the demons and Suṭō alike.

She draped the magic over them like a blanket. Even through the pain she could feel their relief and her empath’s powers flared. She took from them as she gave to them, siphoned the power from their emotions and funneled it into her seat of power. But it wasn’t enough to balance out the magical toll and she could already feel her weariness as her Light faded away.

Maddox caught her as she fell. He laid her down on their sleeping pallet, covered her with a blanket, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Ripley drifted off to sleep with a faint smile on her lips.

Ripley called the Light six more times. Each one came slower, more painfully, until she could barely muster the strength to stand from her sleeping pallet. Maddox and Margie doted over her and her sisters came to tell her jokes during the few times she felt alert enough to talk. Lydia woke up but Maddox refused to let her heal and relegated her to preparing potion and tonics with what little supplies they had left.

The days passed in a blur. She could hear coughing; someone was always coughing, even at night when they slept. Elexis and Ani, whispering to one another and sharing a not so private kiss. Corrie conjuring her smoke creatures to lift spirits and Leah creating mini lightning storms between her hands. Margie and Lyudmila murmuring in low, concerned tones about food or medicine or frostbite.

She soon felt just as hopeless as Maddox. One day, she woke up and saw no one. No Maddox or Margie or sisters; she was alone on her pallet. She wanted to look around and see where everyone was but she couldn’t summon the strength. Instead, she stared up at the dust motes floated through the musty air, watched them glint in the sunlight until sleep tugged at her eyelids.

“Ripley.”

Ripley groaned. Hands were at her shoulders, jostling her, and she gave one of them a hard smack. A giggle and snort made her open her eyes to see Leah and Maddox leaning over her with broad grins.

“What the heck are you two so happy about?” Ripley groused as she pulled the covers up to her neck.

Leah yanked the blanket away and Ripley smacked her hand but Maddox laid his hand on her shoulder. “Ripley, come,” he told her with a smile. “There is something you need to see.”

Ripley made a face at him and sighed. “Fine. Help me up.”

Maddox eased her up onto her feet. Ripley’s muscles burned like she’d run for miles on end without stopping and a cramp in her thigh left her gasping for air. The physical consequences of using magic too much; it had happened before but never for such a long time. She wondered how long her recovery would be, then wondered if she’d ever have the chance to recover at all.

Ripley glanced around the barn and frowned. “Where is everyone?” she asked with a curious look at empty sleeping pallets and discarded blankets.

“They’re outside,” Leah replied.

“In the cold?” Ripley asked, aghast.

“You’ll see.”

Maddox helped Ripley to the barn doors and shoved them open. A gasp tore itself from Ripley’s lips as she looked out to see bright sunlight, melting snow, and even a touch of green on the trees. People stood outside; the survivors, her adopted people, admiring what could only be the first hint of spring.

“We made it,” Maddox told her with a fierce grin. “Winter has broken. Now we can begin to rebuild what has been stolen from us this past year; now we can move on and grow as a society once more.”

“Holy crap,” Ripley breathed. “It’s really over?”

“The air elementals say that there is nothing but sunlight on the horizon; no more cold spells or snowstorms.” Maddox wrapped his arms around Ripley. “It is over!”

Ripley squealed as he spun her around then, breathless, set her back on her feet to press a kiss to her lips. Behind her, she could hear children laughing as they played in the mud, men chattering and women rejoicing. How long had it been since any of them had laughed or smiled or felt safe?

“It is not over yet,” Maddox told her with a sigh. “But we have hope for the first time in weeks.”

“It’s a start.” Ripley kissed him again and laughed. “First thing we should do? Burn that stupid barn.”

Maddox laughed and bent down to hold her close.