The Winter Offering

His fingers twitch as he taps his golden rings against the armrests of his throne. He is a restless ruler, perhaps even impatient, so Tec feels her mouth turn dry and her heart quicken with nervousness as she waits for him to speak. She wishes she could tilt her head to seek the face of her mentor in the hall, but she remains frozen with her head dipped and eyes trained on the ornate floor.

The roaring fire at the foot of the royal platform sears the left side of her body and a bead of sweat forms on her brow. The heavy gaze of the king presses down upon her shoulders, but she doesn’t buckle. She has trained with her mentor for ten long, gruelling months after they chose her for this quest, but she feels herself being appraised again as if her ability to complete the task is in question.

“I am sure you are aware of the gravity of this task, and that successful completion is the only acceptable outcome,” King Tynan’s deep rich tones carry across the silent gathering of people. “Tec, you must travel North, into the Valier Mountains, and seek out the elder pear tree by the frozen pond. Our texts foretell the pond rests in the middle of the accursed forest, which holds unknown horrors. As those who have done before you, light the beacon at the pond to release a blue light in your success.”

“Yes, my king. I will not fail you.”

“The safety and prosperity of the kingdom is your responsibility, now. You are chosen, Tec Naderu, to travel the forbidden path and submit our offering to the gods to ensure another year of wellbeing. If you fail, the gods will not intervene to protect us from the Winter demon’s wrath this season.”

“I accept this task.”

King Tynan’s staff pounds the floor by his throne, bringing a close to the ceremony, and Tec rises to eye the offering she is to carry with her to the elder pear tree. It is grotesque. As movement returns to the occupants of the hall, the adviser moves toward the king, and city officials gather by the fire to speak in hushed tones. Tec collects the offering and meets her mentor at the door. 

Boonas throws the large double doors open and takes the steps two at a time. Tec follows quickly behind with the woven basket held securely in her arms, breath billowing out in a puff of fog in the cool night air.

Her mentor doesn’t slow as they hit the streets; he maintains a long stride across the primary thoroughfare, through the middle-class services and residencies, until he reaches the outer ring of the city where his workshop awaits them.

It relieved Tec to find refuge from the chill in the blacksmith’s workshop, the forge still radiating heat. Boonas flits through the rooms, organizing Tec’s supplies while she carefully places the offering basket on his table. The woven basket was designed for her to carry on her back and lined with leather to contain the blood and residue from the contents. Tec swallows the lump in her throat and forces her wide-eyed stare away from the bloody goop inside the basket. 

“Rations, skins of water, a winter blanket, a flint...” Boonas shoves the essentials into a pack hurriedly before handing it to Tec. “And, finally, this. I want you to take this longsword I made.”

“I was going to take my bow. I think that should be enough to make it through the forest.”

“This isn’t for the forest. When you make it to the lake, keep your guard up. When the officials chose you, I promised myself I would train you as much as I could for this day to honour a debt I owed to your mother. So I give you this, but not for the forest. Every year...” Boonas hesitates, flicking his eyes nervously to Tec. “Every year we see the blue light from the Valier Mountains, every year we enjoy the success of our chosen ones, and each year they do not return.”

“But the king says -”

“The king lies! Please, take the sword and be careful. You might find that getting back is harder than getting there. Remember what I taught you. You have your mother’s sharp senses about you, so use them. Stay alert, Tec.”

Tec snaps her mouth shut and nods sharply, her resolve firm. Being chosen for this task is an honour, despite the danger, and she is determined to return a champion.

Upon the insistence of Boonas, Tec leaves in the dead of night, carrying the unsettlingly heavy basket on her back, her supply pack over one shoulder, bow and quiver on the other, and sword in her hand. She refuses to camp for the night, travelling the first leg of the trip to arrive at the base of the Valier Mountains by sunrise. 

While she eats her rations, pondering Boonas’ warning, the snow falls. The small white clumps do not melt upon hitting the ground and instead stick like small growing pillows. Tec chews faster. She can’t afford to rest yet, not if the trail ahead is about to be smothered by snow.

She has to remember to thank Boonas when she returns from this quest. If it wasn’t for his rigorous training, she would not have the physical fitness or determination to have made it this far as quickly as she has. Still, a long trek lies ahead of her.

For several days Tec pushes through the amassing snow, ignoring the cold biting into her toes as the wetness seeps into the wrapping which covers her feet. During the nights, the warmth of the fire is welcome, but howls of the wolves roaming the night grow nearer and the light of the fire leaves Tec exposed. She doesn’t sleep.

When Tec enters a dense area of forestry halfway up the mountainside, she is thankful the terrain is easier to traverse; the thick canopy above blocks from the forest floor the snow. The dense tree cover is both a blessing and a curse, however, as it blocks what little light the overcast sky could provide. Tec is plunged into a darkness which lasts days, or maybe even weeks. Any measure of time is ripped away from her as she trudges onward, sleep deprived and exhausted, running out of torchlight, unable to feel her feet anymore, and wounded from her battle with a wolf two nights prior. 

During what Tec suspects is nighttime, the air is still and crisp, and the forest is quiet. She leans against the basket and the warmth of her small fire lulls her into a coma-like sleep. Noises rouse her hours later at an unknown time, maybe night or maybe day. At first, Tec forgets where she is. Her fire went out long ago. The canopy obscures the stars above. Only the texture of the hilt of the longsword still gripped in her hand reminds her of where she is. 

A sound blows past her, sending shivers down her spine. It sounds like the breath of the wind, but the trees remain silent and no breeze rustles the leaves. She sits upright, feeling the basket drag at her shoulders as she settles into a crouch. Waiting. Watching. 

In order to light her fire, Tec must release her grip on her sword, but she is frozen with fear. In this forest, she senses an unknown energy, an entity with mal-intent. Minutes pass and Tec takes the risk. She drops her sword and her cold fingers fumble with her flint as she strikes her flames back into being. Her head snaps up, and she snatches the sword. As she looks up, she is met with the light of the fire glinting from three eyes, which rest on the edge of darkness.

The air catches in Tec’s throat and she stares wide-eyed at the floating reflections of light ahead of her. There was nothing Boonas could have done to train her for this. He gave her a sword, but whatever lurks in the darkness is tall and certainly dexterous to have moved by her so quietly. Every inch of her body screams at her to run; self-preservation is paramount. 

Slowly, Tec rises to stand and backs away, one step at a time, never shifting her eyes from the thing in the darkness. As she moves back, a long, grey, taloned foot shifts forward as the thing steps into the light of the fire. It is abnormally tall, unlike any beast Tec has ever heard tales of, with three yellowed eyes set into its large skull balancing atop its bony long neck. Its jaw hangs, exposing a row of razor-sharp teeth.

Tec spins on her heels and bolts into the darkness of the forest, running the uphill battle. She wishes that heavy thumping footsteps followed her, but the thing moves with an unnerving quietness. She has no way of judging how close it is to her as she races through the cursed forest, dodging between them as sharply as she can to avoid a long talon finding a grasp on her basket.

Her heart is hammering in her ears, her breathing is ragged, her lungs are screaming as they suck in the freezing air and her legs are burning as they propel her forward. She is certain her death is upon her, but failure is not an option; she cannot doom the kingdom to ruin.

A welcome sight: a dim light is quickly approaching. Fresh hope floods through Tec as she pushes the last fifty metres forward, diving out of the darkness and plunging into a pile of white snow. Her arms and legs scramble to right herself so she can look back into the treeline. Standing within the protection of the shadows, the monster looms 8ft tall, three glowing eyes peering down at Tec heaving for air in the snow. It doesn’t move an inch closer; it seems Tec is safe from its clutches.

The beast sinks into the black void, swallowed by the forest, leaving Tec to recover under the light filtering through the white clouds in the overcast sky. After looking around, Tec finds herself in a clearing bordered by towering trees. In the middle lies her destination. She trudges through the snow, legs shaking, toward the elder pear tree. Its branches are wide, like welcoming arms outstretched to greet her. 

Wearily, she collapses at the trunk of the tree and heaves the basket from her back. The tree sits by a frozen pond, just as was described. On her hands and knees, Tec takes a moment to appreciate the pond. This clearing is sacred, foretold as being a place of communion for the gods. It is here where the kingdom has garnered favour with the gods by offering them a boon in return for safety and prosperity. So far, the blue beam of light has been seen each year and now Tec, too, has reached this divine elder tree.

As Tec readies the basket, a frown furrows her brow. She can’t see a beacon to light. Frozen inside the foot-thick layer of ice on the surface of the pond is a browned pear fruit, permanently trapped in stasis. Beneath the pear, Tec spies swimming shapes in the water below. A being in the water shoots up toward Tec, hitting the ice with a loud thud. A woman is trapped. Tec flinches from the sound and readies the pommel of her sword to break the icy trap, but the woman’s face twists into a horrified, soundless scream. Tec can’t hear her, but she can read the dreadful word on her purple lips: run. 

Tec launches backward in fright, tipping over the basket filled with flesh. The blood soaks into the snow, but Tec hardly notices. Her eyes are on the thing that has arisen from the pond without shifting the ice. It passes through the barrier, formless, and takes its indescribable, horrifying shape as it floats in the air. 

Tec realises she will not survive this trip.  

She can only assume that this is the Winter demon which King Tynan warned of. The entity that would freeze their wells and rivers, blight their crops, kill the livestock with the cold, and weaken their kingdom as the men, women and children become victims of famine.

Dull thuds sound from the icy pond as another set of pale hands rises to hit the layer frantically. The champions from years prior never returned. They did not commune with the gods. Instead, they found themselves faced with the demon; themselves becoming the offering to spare their kingdom from its wrath.

Tears roll down Tec’s cheeks as she stares, terrified, at the demon floating closer to her, emanating a deep blue light. Its wings press upward and the light beams high into the air that the city-folk could see it from afar.

The offering has been delivered.

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