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  Title Page

  Book Details

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  Melting the Ice Witch

  About the Author

  Melting the Ice Witch

  Mell Eight

  The Dragon’s Hoard

  The Tribe of the White Dragon has lived in the frozen wastes of the north for thousands of years, slowly dying without their dragon to protect them from the inhospitable cold. In desperation they kidnap Kam, hoping to use him to breed witch power back into the Tribe. But Kam is not a witch and there is nothing he can do to save them—until he sees the white dragon encased in ice and all alone.

  Book Details

  Melting the Ice Witch

  The Dragon's Hoard Book Four

  By Mell Eight

  Published by Less Than Three Press LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.

  Edited by Michelle McDonough

  Cover designed by London Burden

  This book is a work of fiction and as such all characters and situations are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.

  First Edition June 2013

  Copyright © 2013 by Mell Eight

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN 9781620042069

  Melting the Ice Witch

  Dragon's Hoard Series: Book Four

  "In the before times, when the cold ice and biting wind were welcoming to our kind, dragons flew," the old storyteller warbled. The man was bent and gray and his crabbed hands shook on his gnarled staff, but his voice still held the power that had made him the storyteller of the Tribe in his youth.

  "The golden dragon rained fire and melted the ice and the white dragon taught the Tribe the spells to survive the difficult, yet beautiful climate. Together, the gold and white kept these plains of ice tamed and the Tribe survived in plenty."

  The old man's voice reached Kam even from the other side of the fire. Warmth in the ice wastes was hard to come by, especially for one not of the Tribe, so Kam appreciated his place near the flickering flames. His brown hair was city short, which meant his ears and neck were exposed to the cold wind. The barbarians all had hair that reached well down their backs, tied in intricate braids with feathers and stones woven throughout. None had hair more elaborate than Lor, the man with the snow-white hair and ice blue eyes who had the seat of honor next to the storyteller.

  "But," the storyteller's voice darkened and Kam felt his chest clench at the ominous tone, "such times were not meant to last. The golden one gathered his followers around him and declared that for the happiness of dragon-kind they must separate themselves from the wars of humans. No more deaths of dragons, was the golden-one's goal, but the white dragon disagreed with his methods.

  "They fought with their words, their arguments echoing through the icy canyons, but neither would back down. The white dragon knew that to abandon the humans was to allow the Tribe, his hoard, to die in the ice wastes. But the golden one wished to keep his kin alive and to do so he needed to rule the humans, not be ruled by human whim.

  "The best of friends, and possibly lovers, the golden dragon and the white dragon never spoke again. All but the white dragon flew south, where the plains are formed of grass rather than ice. There they settled in the mountains. They built a city for the humans in the foothills. And the white dragon withdrew to the ice caves, alone."

  The storyteller bowed his head in sadness, but Lor's piercing eyes scanned the assembled members of the Tribe.

  "So we survive," Lor continued the story. His voice was strong, but as the leader of the Tribe he had to be. Lor was the tallest and most muscular of all the barbarians, and he was the only witch the clan still had. "Bereft of the dragons who allowed us life in the barren waste of ice and snow, the Tribe learned new ways to survive. We adapted, so after tens of thousands of years we still live." Kam looked around at the assembled Tribe and frowned. There were barely sixty people of all ages and genders still remaining in the circle around the fire. He had learned that there was another clan to the northwest with equal numbers. But most alarmingly, there were only two witches left: Lor and the man named Bay who led the other clan. There were no female witches to pass the traits on, nor had any of Lor's children, grandchildren, or great-grandchildren shown any aptitude in Lor's hundreds of years of life.

  The Tribe was dying.

  That was why Kam had been brought north. The only way to invigorate the clans was to breed more witch blood into the lines. The hope was that if Kam were to have a child with one of the descendants of Lor, maybe a child with powers could be born. But Kam wasn't a witch, and he hadn't exactly been asked before he was kidnapped and taken to the ice wastes.

  "We live and we are strong," Lor continued. "The Tribe of the White Dragon does not fade away!"

  The barbarians cheered loudly around Kam, but Kam couldn't join them. As the assemblage broke up, Kam returned to his small tent. Once the barbarians had been sure he wouldn't run away—as if there were some way to survive in the endless ice wastes for a city bred boy—they had given Kam his own space. The tent was small, with just enough room for bedding and a small wooden chest filled with the meager belongings he had accumulated in the last few weeks, but it was heavy with furs and thick woolen blankets that kept the cold and the wind out. Kam curled up in his bed, glad when his blankets began to warm with his body heat, and closed his eyes.

  The barbarians were nice enough despite the fact that he couldn't give them what they wanted. And it was better than being back in the city. Kam went to sleep with that thought firmly in mind. As much as he had disliked being kidnapped and taken to the barren north, it was still better than what he endured in the city.

  *~*~*

  "Kam, Kam, the witchery man," the kids sang as Kam walked past them. He ducked his head, but otherwise kept himself from acknowledging their taunts. His mother hadn't exactly been discreet with her passions, and lying with the resident witch had supposedly produced Kam. Since the man in question was a charlatan and his mother had never actually said he was Kam's father before they both died … well all that didn't matter to everyone else. To them, Kam had witch blood and in his part of the city it was something to be ridiculed.

  Kam pushed his way into the small shop where he worked. The bell jingled overhead.

  "Kameron, you're late!" the harpy of a woman who was his boss screeched from behind the front counter. As usual the place was dirty and the goods covered the shelves with haphazard organization. The sour smell that had appeared early last week had only grown worse overnight.

  "Sorry, ma'am," Kam murmured, ducking his head further as he wended his way through the mishmash stacks of random goods and into the back room. The pawnshop bought and sold everything. Sailors on leave after making the journey down the Great River came to the shop to sell what they could so they would have the funds to drink and carouse in the bars and whorehouses that also populated that part of the docks.

  It was Kam's job to clean and fix those often grimy and broken items so the owner could in turn sell them for profit to a higher quality pawnshop in the northern part of the city. It paid well for the woman, but Kam only saw a few coins a week for his work. As the witchery man he was lucky to have a job, so as much as Kam wished, there was no way he could find better prospects.

  Kam worked hard for his pay and at the end of the day his hands ached but his quota was finished. He left the shop at dusk and hurried home. He couldn't tarry, because the docks became very dangerous after dark, and since his rent was due he couldn't afford to stop for dinner anyway.

  He walk
ed up the three flights of rickety stairs to his tiny apartment. It was one room, barely large enough to hold his threadbare bedding and one change of clothes, but it was a place to sleep. He had left one window cracked while he was away so the three cats that had crept in during the previous night could leave if they wished. The family of mice that lived under his floorboards was running about, so Kam was careful where he placed his feet as he walked over to collapse on his blanket.

  One of the mice climbed up onto his pillow and gently nuzzled him on the nose. The mouse was hungry too and was probably looking for crumbs, but Kam appreciated the meager comfort his small friend could provide. Kam was smiling despite his rumbling stomach as he slowly fell asleep.

  Kam knew there was something wrong long before he woke. His dreams had been filled with two cats screeching and his family of mice biting someone's ankles. He had felt movement, but it wasn't normal because he felt a sort of sucking, faded feeling for a while before his body returned to itself in a totally different location. There were two men nearby, Kam could sense that much, although he was unsure how he knew. His body did not respond to his mind's request to move.

  The men came to some sort of agreement and the big, white-haired one walked over to Kam, lifted him into his arms, and carried him over to a waiting wagon. Kam felt his body being tucked under heavy blankets before the wagon began to bump along. It grew cold fairly quickly, so Kam was glad for the blankets.

  The wagon and the old nag pulling it along were stowed in a small barn next to an equally small wooden house discreetly hidden behind a tall hill. Kam was moved from the wagon into a sleigh and the strange man attached six dogs to the traces. An old and stooped man came out of the house and waved his walking stick to send the sled off. The dogs whined loudly at the sight of Kam, but obediently began pulling the sled out into the snow-covered plains. The strange barbarian reached forward after the dogs were pointed in the right direction to touch Kam's forehead and Kam fell back asleep.

  When Kam woke fully, he was lying on a set of furs in a big, fur-lined tent. The large man from the cart was sitting across from where Kam lay, an elaborate tea set at the strange man's feet. The long white hair in thick braids was pushed behind the man's back. His ice-cold eyes were focused intently on Kam.

  "My name is Lor and I lead this clan," the man said formally. He poured two cups of tea and passed one over to Kam as he sat up. The scent of the pale tea was flowery without being cloying and the hardened clay cup was warm in Kam's hands. He took a careful sip and smiled at the subtle taste of some sort of herb.

  "Why am I here?" Kam finally asked when it became apparent that the barbarian was waiting for Kam to say something.

  Lor bowed his head, as if what he was about to say shamed him. "You can help save my clan," Lor said. "Your powers as a witch can bring life back into my people."

  Kam put down the teacup and covered his face with his hands and laughed sadly. Of course it was about his mysterious witch heritage. Did no one believe him?

  "You're wrong," Kam said with a shake of his head. "I'm not a witch and my parents weren't witches."

  Lor shook his head, an indulgent smile on his face. "We shall see the truth soon enough," he replied. "Now, what is your name?"

  *~*~*

  Kam woke in his small tent and sighed. Two months had passed since that day and still Lor watched and waited for Kam to make a mistake and show off his spells. Kam almost wished he could, just to end the farce, but he couldn't do what he didn't have the ability to do. He wasn't a witch!

  The noise that woke him sounded again. Kam frowned and pulled back his blankets, shivering in the icy night air. He wrapped one of the thicker quilts around his shoulders and left his tent. The sound was coming from the other side of the encampment. Kam followed it and finally saw the curled form of a dog.

  The poor girl was whining and panting for breath, three newborn puppies tucked under her heaving belly. Kam rushed over and dropped to his knees at her side. There was still one more pup to go, a runt if what Kam could feel was right. The dog barely had any energy left.

  "Come on," Kam cheered, brushing his hand gently across the dog's furry ears. He wondered how she had managed to stray so far from the kennel.

  Invigorated by Kam's presence, the dog gave a great heave. The runt slowly slid free and the dog collapsed to pant in the snow. The first three pups eagerly began suckling, but the last just lay shivering helplessly in the snow. The runt was covered in a short layer of gray fur that was totally inadequate for the climate and was clearly too tired to get to the warmth and nutrition it sorely needed.

  Kam was quick to reach out and gather the tiny thing into his hands. The puppy gave a tiny whimpering moan, but when Kam pushed her in among her siblings, she quickly grabbed a teat and began sucking. The mother dog began licking all four of her pups clean while Kam watched happily for a few moments.

  "So that's where she got off to," Mae's voice sounded from behind Kam. Kam jumped in surprise and spun around to face the headwoman. Mae's rules were ironclad and no one, not even Lor, dared to oppose her on the serious matters of running the camp. She was diminutive in size, although because of her large personality not many could tell just how short she was at first meeting. Mae's hair was the color of bleached straw and her eyes were the same icy blue shared by most members of the clan.

  "She's had four puppies," Kam replied, gently running his hand down the dog's spine.

  "So she has," Mae agreed. "Dug her way out of the kennel and escaped this far, but not far enough. It's a miracle she and her pups survived." Mae looked over Kam and sighed. "I'll get one of the men to carry her back if you'll carry two of the pups."

  Mae walked off purposefully towards the nearest man idling by the central fire. There were always three or four people who were awake at night to make sure the fire didn't go out and to keep an eye on the weather. Kam would have scowled at her assumption that he couldn't carry the fully grown dog back to the kennel except for the fact that the dog was easily a hundred pounds and Kam weighed only a little more.

  When Mae returned, Kam gently pulled the runt and one of her siblings free. Mae took the other two puppies while Hern gathered the dog in his arms. They returned the new family to the kennel, where Tomm was grumpily filling in the rough hole the dog had clawed through in her escape. The kennel was very large and warm and dark inside, filled with at least five-dozen dogs. They found the new mother a comfortable spot and situated her puppies contentedly within reach before leaving. The heavy door was kept closed at night to keep the important dogs from running off and freezing. Kam took one last look over the dog that was gently licking all four of her pups, before Hern pushed the door closed with a thump.

  "Go back to bed, Kam," Mae said sternly in a voice that brooked no disagreement. Kam nodded and yawned, suddenly tired, and headed back to his small tent and his warm bed.

  *~*~*

  Kam huddled next to the fire with his breakfast after his chores the next morning. The hot porridge went a long way towards making the morning palatable, but even with his thick fur coat Kam didn't think he would ever get warm again.

  "Mae says I'm taking you with me today," Lor said as he took a seat next to Kam. One of the women handing out bowls gave one to Lor, who fell on his breakfast with gusto.

  "Okay," Kam replied, glad to have something to do. "Where are we going?"

  "Hunting," Lor explained succinctly.

  "Oh," Kam answered with a frown. He didn't dislike hunting, exactly, but there was something disquieting about the ice wastes. He always felt sad and lonely whenever he went out there.

  Once breakfast had been cleaned up, Kam returned to his tent. His usual fur coat was thick enough for the trip, but he needed to change his pants into his pair also lined with fur. The winds could be brutal. He also located the fur hat Mae had given him that covered his ears and exposed neck, something she had made especially for him as the rest of the clan could safely go without thanks to their thick hair.
>
  Kam met up with the hunting party by the kennels. He helped hitch six dogs to each sled, glad for the time he could take to pet their warm ears. He got to look inside the kennel quickly, too, and saw the new mother and her pups looked healthy and warm. She yipped a hello at him, which made him smile.

  The sleds were huge constructions, made out of stiff leather and fire-hardened wood. They were large enough to sit three people across and three deep, plus one or two more people on a steering platform on the back of the sled. Despite their size, they were light enough that Kam could pull an empty sled into place on his own, which was good because it was easier to get all the dogs hooked up that way.

  Lor walked past as Kam was working with the last of the dogs and ran his hand down the sleds, murmuring something, no doubt some sort of strengthening spell, under his breath. Six adult dogs could easily pull a full sled, but they would have a much harder time of it without Lor giving a hand.

  Kam found a spot on one of the sleds and took a firm handhold. Lor climbed into the steering platform moments later and took up the reins and whip. With a howl, the sleds moved out, followed by three hunting dogs. Two of the men were supporting falcons on one arm.

  The ice wastes were cold and windy, but still beautiful. A mixture of snow, ice, and frozen earth covered the ground as far as the eye could see in every direction. To the northeast lay a mountain range and there were gentle slopes and hills the further they moved into the foothills of the mountains where fresh game was most likely to be found.

  Kam actually enjoyed hunting, even though he wasn't really allowed to participate in the gory parts. The twang of bowstrings, the baying of the hunting dogs, and the cry of the hawks as they pounced made his blood sing. The only true drawback was the wind, which blew hard, cold, and lonely across his face, leaving his skin burned, lips chapped, and his soul aching for company.

  Lor stayed by the sleds, letting the more experienced hunters do their work. Every once in a while, Kam would see Lor gesture and the ice packing onto the sides of their sleds would suddenly melt, or a man who had fallen into a snow bank would suddenly be dry. It was amazing, seeing real magic put to real purpose. Kam had been in awe of it from the very first day he had been living with the clan, and that hadn't changed.