AllFreeNovel
Share Us
What can we offer her? How do you deal with snow hags? I’ve heard of them but never had any associations with them, obviously, since I lived in big cities most of my life.
When I’d lived in L.A. and San Francisco, the Fae were common but they were hot-weather Fae who had been urbanized by encroaching society. Vamps also preferred the bigger cities, while the magic-born tended to prefer smaller towns where there was more access to the wilds. But the Wilding Fae—they weren’t suited to life among others.
He nodded. Then let me take the reins, Miss Cicely.
Be my guest.
The snow hag must have known we were talking about her, but she waited patiently, not moving to attack, simply staring at us with expectant, bulbous eyes.
Chatter cleared his throat. “Someone binds you. Someone else would bind you stronger if you have the will.”
“I might, I might at that.” She snickered and I wanted to back away from that curiously large head, but I forced myself to stay put.
“Riddle me this . . . what binds a snow hag, but can be broken? Not a solemn oath. Not a blood promise.”
“No, no . . . agreed. They are too strong to be broken.” Her eyes lit up and she glanced at me.
I looked at Chatter and again sent a message along the slipstream. What are you doing?
Remember your history? Oh, that’s right—you did not learn while in the city. She cannot tell us outright. She is one of the Wilding Fae. We must guess until we find what holds her, and then figure out how to break it.
Ah, now I understood. If we wanted her help, we had to break the chains Myst had bound around her without any direct instruction from her. I nodded at him and he turned back to the creature.
“What bonds are soft enough to be broken? My guess would be a bond unwillingly placed?” He cocked his head.
“You might guess correctly on that one.”
“Then a spell, perhaps . . .” He paused and—at the wary look in her eye—added, “or perhaps . . . not a spell outright but a trick. Let me think . . . Myst is a huntress. Hunters use snares. A magical snare!”
The snow hag cackled. “You might guess correctly again!”
Chatter turned to Peyton and me. “Myst used a magical snare to gain control of the snow hag. Magical snares can be disarmed if we figure out their trigger. They’re very much like a regular snare, but if you trip the trigger, you become magically bound rather than physically.”
I screwed up my courage and decided to give Chatter’s guessing game a chance. I turned to the snow hag. “I’m guessing someone near might be newly trapped. That it hasn’t been long since they were ensnared.”
She laughed, then. “You would guess correctly, my pretty.”
“My guess it wasn’t far from here.”
“Again, a good and reasonable guess.”
“How did you know that?” Chatter asked.
“Myst is able to enchant and bewitch, but the snow hag is obviously not enchanted by her enforced host. So most likely, the snare was set out here, away from the barrow. We should look around this area. Snared or not, the snow hag is dangerous, and Myst wouldn’t want her too close, but she thought her powers too good to waste.”
We began to look around the area, the snow hag propping herself against a boulder covered with a layer of ice. She looked content, staring off into the distance, as we peeked under shrubs and behind trees. After a few minutes, Chatter held up a broken wire.
“Found it. Now to trace it back to—here we go.” He pulled out the magically inscribed peg that had held it in the ground, shaking the snow off it. “I’m not sure if I’m familiar with all these symbols, but a few I recognize.”
Handing it to me, he glanced around and, once again, whispered into the slipstream. We cannot tarry, but if we can gain her help, then we may have an ally for a long time to come.
I understand. I took the wire and examined it. Some of the symbols stood out clearly to me. Because of the way the magic of the snare spell worked, the wires and pegs usually contained the word to free the ensnared, but it would be invisible to them. I picked through the symbols, reading them as carefully as I could. But something stood out—something in the pattern of the words. And then I realized that I recognized not only the pattern of speech in the spell, but the actual etching itself.
Aunt Heather. Heather had set the snare spell for Myst. I jerked my head up to stare bleakly at Chatter and Peyton.
“My aunt. She’s the . . .” I stopped at Chatter’s quick shake of the head. He was right—if the snow hag found out who had captured her, she’d go after her. In this case, though, that might not be a bad thing. Heather could never return to her former state. She belonged to Myst. But the snow hag might also seek revenge on Rhiannon—or me—and that, we couldn’t chance.
I tucked the snare away. Heather had touched it and so it might be useful in casting a spell on her. “I know the chant to release you,” I said to the snow hag. “But riddle me this: Why should I let someone free from a magical snare?”
