Jonathan Moeller

        

         It is written that in ancient times men lived without roof or plow, and wandered the earth as wild beasts roam.  In those days a small tribe lived in the lowlands, eating fruit from the trees, hunting the mammoths of the plain, and catching fish from the rivers.  The men of the tribe were fleet of foot and sure of hand, and so the tribe called itself the Swift Hawks. 

         Now a headman of the tribe, Black Raven, had a son.  Black Raven's son was neither strong nor fast, instead having large eyes, clever hands, and a cunning mind.  The weak, slow boy filled Black Raven with scorn. 

         "See!" said Black Raven, "my wife must have been disloyal to me, for no son of mine could be so spindly and slow!  Look at him!  He looks like a cowardly owl!"

         And so the boy was called Owl, and the men of the tribe mocked him, and his father scorned him, and his brothers jeered him.  When the boys of the tribe went on their quests to become men, the headmen did not let Owl go, and when the young men went to other tribes to find wives, Owl was forbidden to go. 

         Yet though his limbs were weak, his mind was cunning and restless, and despite his tribe's scorn, Owl loved them nonetheless. 

         "Hard flint makes a dull edge," said Owl, when the tribe camped near the burning mountains, "and it takes much labor to skin a mammoth, or even to drive a spear home."

         "Weakling boy," said Black Raven, "you lack manful strength!"

         "But, see, father!" said Owl, "this black glass from the burning mountain holds a keen edge!  It can cut swiftly through both hide and muscle." And he made knives and spears fashioned from the black glass.  The men of the tribe made mocked him, but their laughter fell silent when they flung the spears.  But they still held Owl in no esteem. 

         Later, as the tribe flung nets into the great river, Owl stared at the skeleton of a fish. 

         "Father," he said, "might not we make hooks from the bones, and tip them with such things as fish like to eat?  Then we might catch many more fish, and our women and children will not go hungry."

         "You are unfit for a wife and children," said Black Raven, "so keep silent."

         Yet Owl wrought hooks from fish bones, tied them to a rod with strings from a broken net, and speared earthworms upon the hooks.  The men of the tribe jeered him, but fell silent as he caught many fish.  Henceforth the Swift Hawks used hooks to catch fish, but still held Owl in scorn. 

         After catching much fish, the tribe journeyed south to prepare for the winter, and the men set themselves to bringing down mammoths with their spears.  While the flesh of a mammoth could feed the tribe for weeks, men often perished beneath the mammoths' tusks.  Now Owl had given much thought to this, and had saved wood from the forest, and strings of gut from dead animals, and fallen feathers from passing birds.  As the men pursued the mammoth herds, Owl labored, and showed his work to Black Raven. 

         "Father," said Owl, "the mammoth hunt is a dire time for our people, for many brave men die beneath the mammoths' tusks."

         "Foolish boy," said Black Raven, "the men prepare to hunt, and you make toys?  Go back to your place among the women!"

         "But, Father," said Owl, "this toy may help feed and clothe our people."

         Black Raven struck him.  "The hunt is how we feed and clothe our people.  Now go and leave me!"

          But Owl raised his bow and loosed an arrow, striking a hawk from the sky.  Black Raven thought it witchcraft, and would have killed Owl to drive away evil spirits, but his people were hungry.  So Owl made more of the bows, and the men hunted, and killed three mammoths, and no man of the tribe perished.  And the people of the Swift Hawk had more food and furs than they ever had before.

         Yet still they held Owl in low respect.

         Winter approached, and the tribe encamped in the caves, preparing for the cold.  And as the tribe gathered wood for fuel, a stranger came to them, wandering over the hills.  He wore filthy wolfskins, his gray hair seemed like ice, and his eyes were those of a madman.  The women whispered to each other fearfully, thinking him a devil or a ghost. 

         Black Raven went out to meet him.  "Speak, stranger, and name yourself!"

         The man sneered at Black Raven.  "I am called Frost-Wolf."

         The tribe trembled at this, for they had heard word from the other tribes of this Frost-Wolf.  Men whispered that he was a sorcerer, a master of dark powers.  It was said that he had long walked alone on dark roads, learning the secrets of vanished peoples and the lore of forgotten worlds.

         "You have an evil name," said Black Raven.  "We will give you neither food nor shelter.  What do you wish of us?"

         "I come with a warning," said Frost-Wolf.  "Winter comes, and you must prepare."

         "The people of the Swift Hawk have survived many winters," said Black Raven.

         "But this winter will never end," said Frost-Wolf.  "I have seen it in my visions.  A time of great ice comes, of cold and snow that will not end.  You and all your folk will perish, and your frozen bones will lie in these caves until the end of days.  Yet I can save you.  My powers can protect you."

         "And what price does your generosity carry?" said Black Raven.

         "You will swear to be my slaves, and hand over all your goods, and give me your sisters and your daughters to be my wives," said Frost-Wolf.  "Travel to the Black Mountain to dwell as my thralls.  Then I shall spare you from the fury of the winter storm."

         "You insult us!" said Black Raven.  "The men of the Swift Hawk are slaves to no man!  Leave, you dog, before you taste our spears."

         Frost-Wolf laughed.  "Then strike me down, if you are so brave."

         Yet no man of the Swift Hawk dared to raise their hands against him.

         "Then I speak this prophecy: in a year's time, you shall beg for my mercy, and crawl before my throne," spoke Frost-Wolf.  And Frost-Wolf left, and the men of the Swift Hawk watched him go, yet still done dared to strike him.

         So winter came.  The tribe of the Swift Hawk lodged in the caves, huddling around their fires, eating their hoarded fruits and meats.  At first they made light of Frost-Wolf's warning, and sang the songs and told the tales of the tribe around their fires. 

         But the winter lingered, and grew ever colder.  Snow fell without ceasing, and soon great sheets of ice covered the land.  The men of the tribe began to murmur in fright, but Black Raven counseled them to wait.

         "Patience!" he said.  "Have we not endured the harsh winter before?  Soon enough, the Lord of Winter will withdraw, and the Queen of Summer will reign once more.  Patience!"

         They waited, and still winter did not lift.  Other tribes of men passed the caves of the Swift Hawk, tribes from the forest and the mountains and the river valleys and the sea shores.  All made their way to the great Black Mountain.

         "We are starving," they said, "for we have no food for our bellies, nor wood for our fires."

         "So," said Black Raven, "you go to make yourselves slaves of Frost-Wolf?"

         "Better to live as slaves than to die hungry," they said, and went on their way. 

         Now the Swift Hawk ate the last of their food, and burned the last of their wood, and they grew hungry and cold.  The headmen of the tribe gathered and debated what to do.

         "We have no food," said the headmen, "and we are freezing to death.  We must do something, or else our children and our wives shall starve, and we with them."

         "We will hunt," said Black Raven, "and find food."

         "There is no game left!" said the headmen.

         "We must wait," said Black Raven.  "Spring must come, sooner or later."

         "Nine moons have passed and it has not!" said the headmen.  "We must go and submit ourselves to Frost-Wolf, or starve to death.  You are counted mighty among us, Black Raven, but we are resolved to do this thing, whether you will it or not."

         And Black Raven hung his head for shame, for he saw no other path.

         Owl stepped forward, and spoke.  "There is another way."

         "Be silent," said Black Raven, "for this is a council of the men." 

         "Let us seek out the Lord of Winter, and ask him for mercy," said Owl.  "Perhaps he will relent, and lift his icy breath from the lands of men."

         "Foolish boy," said Black Raven.  "Has any man ever stood before the Throne of Winter?  For the Lord of Winter dwells far beyond the borders of mortal lands, in the land of spirits and wraiths, where mortal men dare not go.  We would perish in trackless lands.  And even if we did go, how shall we feed ourselves?  There is no food left!"

         "Better that we go," said Owl, "and die trying to keep our freedom, than to live as Frost-Wolf's slaves."

         Black Raven sneered.  "Perhaps you will think up some clever contrivance of black glass and feathers to bring summer to us?"

         "I will find the Lord of Winter," said Owl, "and beg him to spare us.  Will anyone come with me?"

         No man spoke.

         "Then go!" said Black Raven.  "Fool, if you will not do what must be done, then go and die.  One less mouth we must feed.  You were ever a weakling and a coward, and you are no son of mine!"

         So Owl left the tribe of the Swift Hawk, though his heart was heavy.  Clad in mammoth furs, carrying knives of black glass and his bow, he went in search of the Lord of Winter.

         Now Black Raven led the tribe to the Black Mountain.  There Frost-Wolf had set up his seat, and all the peoples of the earth had gathered there, and they named themselves his slaves, for he alone had the power to halt the winter storms.  And Black Raven came before Frost-Wolf, his pride and heart shattered, and knelt, and Frost-Wolf laughed as he placed his foot on Black Raven's neck.

         So Frost-Wolf named himself King of the Earth, and by his powers he raised a vast citadel of ice, and ruled from its topmost tower.  Frost-Wolf halted the storms in some lands, and taught men to sow wheat and grain, and so many a proud hunter and fierce warrior toiled as a slave in Frost-Wolf's fields.  He took as wife any woman he pleased, and his children, the terrible Frost Giants, trouble mortal men to this day.  A few men dared raise their hands against him, and Frost-Wolf froze their corpses to the walls of his citadel, their sightless eyes staring at the groaning slaves in the fields.

         But Owl wandered far across the hills and the plains, far from Frost-Wolf's grim citadel, far from the lands of mortal men.  He hunted what poor game he could find, and ate what mean roots he could gather, and soon grew fierce and fell.  Owl took distant paths, and passed far beyond lands where mortal men had ever walked.  By cunning means he spoke with creatures older than men, and learned of hidden paths.  He fought terrible beasts, monsters more fierce than any lion, creatures more terrible than any mammoth. 

         And, at last, after seven years of wandering, Owl journeyed to a haunted, frozen forest, where few mortal men had ever trod, and he came at last before the seat of the Lord of Winter. 

         The Throne of Winter sat on the edge of the sea, towering over the icy waters.  There the Lord of Winter sat, brooding over the frozen wastes.  He seemed an ancient, wrinkled man, clad in a robe of frost, his beard and hair twisted icicles, his eyes sharper and colder than knives of ice, and in his face was all the cruelty and coldness of winter.  His terrible gaze fell upon Owl, and Owl stopped like the deer mesmerized by the serpent. 

         "Mortal man," said the Lord of Winter, his voice the snarl of cracking ice, "name yourself."

         "I am Owl, of the Swift Hawk tribe," said Owl.

         "And why," said the Lord of Winter, "do you come before me?"

         "My tribe is dying," said Owl.  "All mortal men are dying, enslaved to a cruel tyrant, for an everlasting winter has come to the earth.  I have come, Lord, to ask you...please, lift winter from the land."

         The Lord of Winter roared like a falling mountain, and his eyes glittered like shattered ice. 

         "Foolish boy!" said the Lord of Winter.  "You dare to ask such a thing?"

         "But my people are dying!" said Owl.

         "Let them," said the Lord of Winter.  "For they are mortal men, transient as morning fog, and they are born to die.  They live for but the briefest moment, and then perish, and their bodies crumble into dust.  Meaningless and futile!  Their brief lives mean nothing to me.  True strength and purpose is found in permanency, in immutability."

         "Does the suffering of my people mean nothing to you?" said Owl.

         "It does not!" said the Lord of Winter.  "For you mortal men are part of the very flaws of the world.  From the beginning it should have been made strong and unchangeable.  Yet the world was made to change, and in changing, to die, as your race now dies.  My winter has made the world anew, made it strong and beautiful."

         "I do not understand," said Owl.

         "Behold!" said the Lord of Winter, pointing with his scepter of ice at the forest of frozen trees.  "Look at how the ice gives the trees a coat of glimmering crystal, how their branches shine like light made into glass.  They will stand unchanging forever.  Are they not beautiful?"

         And Owl admitted that they were. 

         "And behold the very ground upon which you stand," said the Lord of Winter, "clad in a blanket of ice and snow.  Does it not glitter like crystal, shine more radiantly that the muddy rivers of spring and summer?"

         And Owl said that it was so.

         "And, lo!" said the Lord of Winter, rising from his throne, "and when all the world is mantled in frost, and the moon rises, and the world shines like a very star of the firmament, like a sphere made of invincible crystal, as the world should have been wrought from the very beginning of days.  Is it not beautiful, mortal man?  Is it not beautiful?" For a fleeting moment, the Lord of Winter's face seemed less cruel, and he gazed at his frozen forest with something like love.

         "It is beautiful, Lord," said Owl.  "But it is dead."

         "Mock me not!" said the Lord of Winter. 

         "Do you love your works?" said Owl. 

         "I do," said the Lord of Winter, "for it has grieved me to see this world change and die again and again.  And now it is imperishable and permanent."

         "Yet it is dead," said Owl.  "The trees are beautiful, but the ice has killed them, and they are dead things.  The ice blanketing the ground does indeed shine, but it has killed all the animals and plants that once lived here.  And the remade world may shine like a crystal, but crystals are dead things, cold and without life."

         "But now the world is unchangeable," cried the Lord of Winter, "and things that change die."

         "I am but a mortal man," said Owl, "and have not your wisdom or power.  But I have wandered many lands, Lord, and I have learned this.  If something does not change, then it is already dead."

         Then the Lord of Winter groaned aloud, and fell back onto his throne of ice. 

         "You speak truly, mortal man," he said, "for indeed the mortal world is ephemeral and doomed to die.  But, alas!  Were I to make it everlasting, it would only die with greater haste." And the Lord of Winter slumped on his throne, his head bowed with sorrow.

         "Then lift the winter, lord," said Owl, "and summon summer back to the world."

         "I cannot," said the Lord of Winter.

         "But are you not the master of storms and ice?" said Owl. 

         "I have dominion over ice and cold," said the Lord of Winter, "yet I have no lordship over spring and summer, over warmth and sun.  That is the realm of the Queen of Summer, and I have no authority there."

         "Then where is the Queen of Summer?" said Owl.  "Tell me, lord, so I may petition her to restore summer to the lands of men."

         "I know not where her realm lies," said the Lord of Winter.  "For since the beginning of days, winter has followed summer, and my kingdom has followed that of the Queen of Summer.  Yet we have never spoken, for our realms lie ever apart.  And the Queen of Summer has withdrawn from the mortal realm, and goes there no more.  So now winter reigns supreme over the world."

         Owl bowed his head in despair, for it seemed as if all his journeys and suffering had been in vain.  Yet still his cunning mind worked, and he said, "But, lord, if you have never spoken with the Queen of Summer, then how did you learn of her departure?"

         "A mortal man came before the Throne of Winter, and spoke to me, just as you did, telling me of the Queen's absence," said the Lord of Winter. 

         "Was this man called Frost-Wolf?" said Owl.

         "He named himself such, and wore wolf-skins as a cloak," said the Lord of Winter.  "He spoke eloquently, and told me that the Queen of Summer had vanished from the world, and declared that now was the time to make all things everlasting and beautiful.  That he might work my will, I granted him a small power over ice and storms."

         "And if summer were to return," said Owl, "would Frost-Wolf's power be broken?"

         "His power is my power," said the Lord of Winter, "and I have no power over summer."

         "Then I beg you, lord," said Owl, "tell me how to find the Queen of Summer."

         "The Queen dwells in her realm, the Summerlands," said the Lord of Winter, "far beyond the bounds of the mortal world, even farther than my own realm.  Yet I know not the way."

         "Then I must seek it," said Owl. 

         "Foolish man," said the Lord of Winter, amazed.  "You will perish alone in waterless lands, and neither beast nor man shall ever know your fate."

         "Yet still I must seek the Summerlands," said Owl.  And he bowed deeply, and departed forever from the Throne of Winter.

         So Owl left the frozen forest, and wandered long in strange lands.  He traveled through the dark places of the earth, escaped the lairs of eyeless horrors.  He passed through plains filled with the ancient bones of long-dead monsters, beasts of fang and scale and claw.  And terrible creatures hunted him, spirits of earth and death tried to trap him, and beasts of the mountain tried to devour him. 

         Yet Owl escaped, and grew ever grimmer and fiercer, until he seemed hard as stone and savage as a wild beast.  Mortal men would have trembled to look on him, yet no mortal men crossed his path.  And he still ever sought for the secret of the Summerlands. 

         And so Owl learned of an ancient wise woman, a witch, who had fled her tribe and dwelt alone in a spell-shrouded swamp.  Owl went to her, and fought her for twelve days and twelve nights, struggling against her glamours and her mind-mazing spells, until exhaustion overtook her, and she begged for clemency.

         "I will spare you," said Owl, holding his spear at her throat, "if you tell me the path to the Summerlands."

         The witch laughed at him.  "Foolish man!  Are you so mad?  The Summerlands are perilous.  Go there and you will not return."

         "Tell me," said Owl, "or I shall not spare you."

         The witch cursed him.  "Then I will tell you, for the telling will kill you, and I shall have my revenge.  Travel through my swamps, then across the great forest, and over the mighty mountains, and you will come to the sea that does not end.  Travel beyond the bounds of the endless seas, and you will reach the waterless desert.  Cross the desert, and if you live, you will reach the Summerlands.  But hark!  In the heart of the Summerlands is the Standing Stone that marks the final boundary between life and death, and if a man travels beyond the Stone...then he will never again come to mortal lands.  Never!  Now may the fey ones of the wood enslave you, may the monsters of the sea devour your flesh, and may the sun of the desert turn your bones white."

         Owl released her, and crossed the great swamps.  The fey ones of the forest tried to ensnare him, but he escaped their spells, and he passed the mountains and came to the endless sea.  Here Owl crafted a boat of reeds and rope, fashioning sails of animal skins, and loaded his craft with what water and food he could find.  Owl set sail, and endured storms and tides, and the cruel fangs of the sea monsters, and the alluring song of the treacherous sea spirits. 

         But Owl left the bounds of the endless sea, and the waves dashed his boat against the rocky shores of the waterless desert.  He traveled into the desert, and the burning sun soon scorched his skin into brittle leather.  Owl ate all his food, and drank all his water, and subsisted on the flesh of the scorpion and the juice of the cactus.  The sun withered him, and the burning land scorched his mind, until Owl went mad, and forgot his name, and forgot why he had even come to the desert. 

         Yet still he traveled on.

         And, fourteen years after he left the Throne of Winter, Owl came at last to the border of the Summerlands, to where no mortal man has come since.

         No words in any of the tongues of men could describe the glory of the Summerlands.  Here were hills mantled in grass greener than any emerald.  Here stood trees that did not wither and did not die.  Here grew flowers that remained ever vibrant and did not fade.  All the Summerlands rustled with a gentle breeze, yet it seemed as if the very land itself sighed in sorrow and wept in despair.

         Dying Owl stumbled into the Summerlands, gaping at the splendor all around him.  Half-mad with thirst, he collapsed at the bank of a stream and drank deep.  The water of the Summerlands lifted the weariness from his battered flesh and the madness from his mind.  He recalled his name, and why he had come to the Summerlands, and set in search of the Queen of Summer. 

         The sorrowing song that filled the Summerlands drew him on.  Soon he came to a great stone of black glass, the Standing Stone that marked the wall between life and death, between mortal and immortal.  Owl hesitated, for to cross beyond the Stone meant a final departure from mortal lands.

         And beyond the Stone lay the Queen of Summer, weeping in despair.

         Owl gazed at her in wonder, for even in her sorrow, he had never seen anything so beautiful.  She wore a robe woven of living leaves, her golden hair circled with a crown of flowers.  She was the vitality of the land itself given form, the flowering of trees in visible shape.  Owl looked on her, and lost his heart to her forever.

         Yet she wept, and all the land groaned with her sorrow.

         Owl stopped at the edge of the Standing Stone.  "Queen of Summer...what is amiss?"

         She glared at him, and eyes like living jewels smote him like thunder.  "Why do you disturb my sorrow?  Has not your race caused enough torment?  Leave me!"

         "Great Queen," said Owl.  "Summer has departed from the lands of men, and eternal winter reigns.  My people are dying.  Please, I beg of you, come again and let the land bloom."

         "Let them die!" shrieked the Queen of Summer. 

         "But they suffer, and groan under the cruel hand of a tyrant," said Owl.

         "They deserve no less!" said the Queen of Summer.  "For years beyond count, I came to the earth and sang, and my song brought forth trees, and flowers, and all things good for men to eat.  I made the land bloom so your people could eat and thrive.  And how your people spite my gifts!"

         "They do not spite your gifts!" said Owl.

         "They use summer to work misery and evil, torment and sorrow," said the Queen of Summer.  "The men slaughter each other, butcher their brothers in wars of pride and power.  The men make their wives slaves, break them beneath chains of sorrow and woe.  Their children are tortured, ruined, and broken.  The deeds of men are naught but an endless hell of murder and rape and torture and sorrow.  Why should I breathe life into the earth for their sake?  Why?"

         "Because they suffer," said Owl.

         "Their suffering is their own doing!" said the Queen of Summer.  "They suffered when I brought summer to the earth, suffered at their own hands.  Now winter reigns eternal, and still they torture each other.  It would be better if the race of man had never been."

         "But, great Queen," said Owl, moving even closer to the Standing Stone, "it is not all dark.  The life of man is savage and hard, but there is friendship and valor and even love.  Is that not worth saving?"

         "The race of man knows nothing of love!" said the Queen of Summer.

         "I do," said Owl.

         The Queen of Summer stared long at him.  "I see marks of torment written on both your flesh and soul.  You love your father and your brothers and all your kin, but they love you not.  You have sacrificed almost everything you have and that you are to save them, but they know not, and even if they knew, they would care not.  If you came back to them now, they would spurn you, or slay you for a demon."

         And Owl bowed his head, for he knew she spoke true, and her words plunged deep into his weary heart.  But still he spoke: "The race of man is cruel, yes, and wicked, and unworthy of your gifts.  But, please, I ask you, have mercy.  Bring summer anew, and deliver them from their sufferings."

         His words amazed the Queen of Summer, and she said: "What is this?  Are you mad?  Your kinfolk scorn and despise you, and yet you still ask me to spare them.  Why?"

         "Because I love them," said Owl.

         "Mortals do not know love!" said the Queen of Summer.  "I, too, loved the race of men, until I learned the truth of them."

         Then Owl remembered what the Lord of Winter had told him, long ago, and asked, "How did you learn this truth, great Queen?"

         "A mortal man came to the Summerlands," said the Queen of Summer, "and spoke to me, standing where you stand now.  He confessed the sins of mortals to me, told me of their many crimes, and described their countless sorrows to me, until my heart broke.  He asked me to pass judgment upon the world, and I did, withdrawing summer from the realms of men.  The man seemed pleased by my judgment, and called it just, and departed.  But I remain here, still sorrowing, for the sons of men are cruel and wicked."

         And at last Owl understood.

         "Great Queen," he spoke, "the man was called Frost-Wolf, and he deceived you.  For he desired to make himself king over all the world, and so tricked you into despair, and tricked the Lord of Winter into giving him governance over ice and storm.  Now he rules as tyrant over the tribes of men.  But, fair Queen, not all the world is as dark as Frost-Wolf's cunning tongue described.  Not all men are wicked, and even the wickedest still have some good left in them.  For the sake of this good, will you not relent?"

         "I will not!" said the Queen of Summer.  "This Frost-Wolf may have lied, but he spoke truly in his treachery.  And do you deceive me?  You come here and lie to me of love.  Go!  Go and leave me to my sorrow."

         And Owl understood what he must do, what price he must pay.

         "Lady," said he, "there is indeed love among mortal men."

         With those words, he stepped past the Standing Stone, moving beyond the border between the lands of mortality and the lands of immortality, took the Queen of Summer in his arms, and kissed her.  Her kiss was summer sun and storm, scented like flowers and emerald grasses, and made Owl feel young again.

         But at last the Queen of Summer stepped back and gazed at him in wonder.  "You have left the mortal world behind, and cannot go back."

         "I know this," said Owl.

         "Why?" said the Queen of Summer, wondering.

         "For I love my kinsfolk, though they love me not, and all the race of men," said Owl, "and I would not see them suffer any longer.  And you, great and fair Queen.  I love you, for you are all that is good and strong in the world, and I would not have you weep any longer."

         The despair of the Queen of Summer's heart melted like ice in the sun, and she saw clearly once more, free of the dark glamour of Frost-Wolf's words. 

         "You do speak truly," she said, "and there is love in your scarred heart.  And if there is love in your heart, might not there be love in the hearts of other men?"

         "There is," said Owl.

         And the Queen of Summer's wrath came like a sudden storm.  "Then Frost-Wolf has deceived me, and a great wrong has been done.  Come!  Let us return to the mortal world and undo it!"

         "But, lady," said the Owl, "I have left the mortal world and may not return."

         "And I am the ruler of the Summerlands," said the Queen of Summer, "and by my decree, you may come to the mortal lands but once more, if only for a single day.  Now, come!"

         She took his hand and by her power it took but a heartbeat to cross the lands it had taken Owl twenty-one years to travel.  Owl saw that the lands of his home had been covered by sheets of mighty ice, save for the few grim fields where Frost-Wolf's slaves toiled.  They came to the glittering gate of Frost-Wolf's citadel, where the bodies of Frost-Wolf's enemies lay frozen against the ice, and the slaves stared at them in wonder and terror.

         "Frost-Wolf!" called Owl in a great voice, "come down, for one has come to challenge you!"

         And Frost-Wolf came, flanked by his Frost Giant guards, and he had grown great and terrible, and seemed shaped from ice and iron.  He looked at Owl and the Queen of Summer and laughed in scorn, for the Queen had wrapped herself in mortal shape, and he recognized her not.

         "Have some mice come to challenge the lord of the earth?" said Frost-Wolf, raising a great axe fashioned of ice.  "A ragged beggar and a harlot cloaked in leaves?  You think to challenge the king of the world?"

         "Your lordship is usurped, and your power stolen," said Owl.  "I know the truth of you, Frost-Wolf, how you deceived the Queen of Summer and betrayed the Lord of Winter.  Lay down your power now, lest it devour you."

         Frost-Wolf recoiled in fear, but he roared in rage and raised his axe high.  Owl sprang to meet him, but the Queen of Winter laid her hand on his arm.

         "Do you remember me, Frost-Wolf?" she called.

         "What care I?" said Frost-Wolf.  "Some slave from the fields, no doubt."

         "Nay," said the Queen of Winter, and cast aside her mortal guise. 

         She blazed like the sun, and loomed like an ancient tree.  The Frost Giants fled in terror, shielding their eyes from her light, and Frost-Wolf's axe fell and shattered against the frozen ground.

         "Now do you remember me, Frost-Wolf?" said the Queen of Summer, and her voice thundered like storms rolling over the mountains.

         Frost-Wolf screamed.  "I care not!  Be you goddess or mortal woman, I shall rend the flesh from your bones!" He sprang at her, howling like a devil, and Owl moved to stop him. 

         And the Queen of Summer lifted her voice and began to sing.

         Her first note rang like a chime of purest crystal.  All the earth resonated with it, and Owl and the slaves stood rapt with wonder, while Frost-Wolf fell to the earth in agony.  Her song rose ever higher, and the grim clouds rolled back as if they had never been, and the citadel of ice collapsed with a mighty roar, the ice melting even as it struck the ground.  The Queen's song swept over the land, and summer came in an instant, the great sheets of ice splintering, the barren fields blooming, and blankets of flowers covering the earth in all directions. 

         The Queen of Summer fell silent, and she and Owl stood at the edge of a vast lake, the melted ruin of Frost-Wolf's citadel.  The slaves bowed before them in terror and joy, and Owl saw his father Black Raven, now an ancient and broken man, weeping.  Frost-Wolf cringed and raved at the edge of the lake, stripped of his power, now nothing more than a mad old man. 

         "Hear me, mortal men!" said the Queen of Summer.  "It was my wish that you perish for your wickedness.  But this man called Owl has shown me that there is, indeed, kindness and love in the hearts of men, for he risked all to save you.  Therefore hear my decree!  Never again shall I withdraw from the world of men, and summer and winter shall come in their due course until the end of days."

         "What of Frost-Wolf?" said Owl, looking at the madman gibbering in the sand.

         "Leave him, for he is nothing," said the Queen of Summer, for Summer is merciful.

         Yet Winter is not, and the air grew cold, and the Lord of Winter strode across the face of the lake, the water turning to ice beneath his feet.  The slaves screamed and fled before the wrath of his face.  Yet he cared nothing for them, and seized the wailing Frost-Wolf by the throat. 

         "You have mocked me!" said the Lord of Winter. 

         "Mercy!" said Frost-Wolf.  "I only wished to work your will in the world!"

         "You deceived me," said the Lord of Winter, "and now you shall see the fate of those who scorn me!"

         The Lord of Winter vanished, and took Frost-Wolf with him.  No man knows Frost-Wolf's fate, yet it is said that on the blackest of winter nights, when ice and terrible cold grip the land, a man can still hear Frost-Wolf's screams carried upon the wind.

         The Queen of Summer likewise vanished, taking Owl with her, for he had passed the Standing Stone, and could never again come to mortal lands. 

         With Frost-Wolf gone, the tribes of men resumed their freedom and went their different ways.  Yet Frost-Wolf's long winter had forever marred the world, and some lands sank into the raging seas, while new lands rose up from the deep, and many breeds of creatures perished.  But the people did not forget the evils Frost-Wolf had taught them, and they raised crops, reared mighty citadels of brick, forged weapons, and warred upon each other. 

         Yet the Queen of Summer still brings summer to the mortal lands.  For it is said that Owl dwells forevermore in the Summerlands, and took the Queen of Summer to wife, and for love of him the Queen will sing her song until the end of days.

 

 

Copyright 2007, Jonathan Moeller

Jonathan Moeller has written Demonsouled, which was Amazon.com's #1 Early Adopter Item in Fantasy and Science Fiction for May 2005, Worlds to Conquer (coming soon in August 2006), and short fiction for Deep Magic, Apex Digest, Sword's Edge, ShadowSword, Scorched Earth, and AlienSkin. 

  

 

Cover: " Unicorn - Summer's End "

Original art: Colored pencil illustration on pastel paper.

Copyright 2007, Michelle J.A. McIntyre

Specializing in colored pencil works on fiber-enhanced paper, more of the work of Michelle J.A. McIntyre can be found on her Webpage, < www.fantasyrealmcreations.com >.  She creates a variety of fantasy art subject matter including dragons, unicorns, gryphons, fairies, and centaurs.

 

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