Mercedes Lackey - Firebird (Fairy Tales, Book 1)

ILYA HAD on nothing more than his shirt and breeches and the boots he'd been wearing; no coat, no cloak, no hat. He didn't even have the rags he'd stuffed in his shirt to make a hump; he'd stopped wearing the hump when he started working in the gardens. It was already horribly cold; an old proverb said that Father Winter killed more foreign invaders than all the armies of Rus combined. The sun was going down and it was going to get colder in a moment. He was going to freeze to death before he ever got to the part of the maze where winter turned to warmer weather.

Assuming he could remember how to get that far in the first place. He couldn't count on a friendly nightingale coming to help him twice, and right now he could hardly remember his own name, he was so cold....

Already he was shivering uncontrollably, his teeth chattering so hard he was afraid they might start chipping. And he wasn't anywhere near the entrance to the maze, either. He was going to have to find the entrance first, before he could even try to get to the warmer part. Shock gave way to panic, and his mind went numb. He couldn't think of anything except that he was going to die.

He was going to die. He was going to die out here in the snow, and the Katschei didn't even think he was important enough to turn into a statue. He wasn't going to die because the Katschei recognized him as an enemy, he was going to die because the Katschei thought he was an idiot, and too dangerous to be around his imbeciles because he might get them into trouble.

Get up. Get out of the snow, Ilya. Your father couldn't break you, your brothers couldn'tbreak you, and you made more headway against the Katschei than anyone else so far.Don't give up now!

He got to his feet, pulled his collar up around his ears, and wrapped his arms tightly around his chest. If he was going to die, he wasn't going to do so lying down in the snow in despair. But the wind picked up, growing stronger as the sun went down. He shoved his way through snow that had drifted up to his waist, hoping the exertion would get him warm enough to survive.

You have to keep moving in a situation like this. You can't stop moving; if you do, you'lldrop, and if you drop, you'll die.

If only there was some sort of shelter! But he couldn't see anything for the snow, and he was afraid to get away from the wall of the maze or he'd lose it. As he stumbled through the drifts, though, he did start to feel a sensation of warmth, right at about the level of his heart.

Maybe I'm warming myself up a little. Maybe if I can run, I can keep myself warm. Encouraged, he tried harder, hoping to find the entrance of the maze before the last of the light faded, hoping to spread that tentative warmth farther. The warmth under his crossed arms increased, but it didn't seem to spread much past his chest. In fact, it was all concentrated in a single spot, exactly as if he had a warmer with a live coal in it tucked into his shirt right there.

Was it all an illusion? He wanted to stop and check inside his shirt to see if there was something he'd forgotten.

The Firebird's feather? Maybeand if ever there was a time to use it, that time was now! But with the wind howling around him, if he pulled it out, it would be snatched right out of his hands! No, I can't stop now, I have to find the entrance of the maze. Whatever isgoing on, it just might keep me alive long enough to save myself. The bit of warmth was just enough to keep him going, just enough to keep him from giving up, and enough to help keep him from getting so cold that no amount of willpower could prevent him from sinking down into the snow.

The maze wall made an abrupt right-angle turn and continued on. He followed it, but now he was fighting his way into the wind. He could hardly feel his feet; he kept his hands tucked into his armpits or he knew he would risk losing fingers to frostbite. The wind drove snow into his face; his exposed skin burned, and he would have given just about anything for a rag to wrap around his head to protect his ears. His high collar didn't seem to be doing any good.

The light failed then, and suddenly there was nothing around him but blowing snow. He stopped where he was, unable to see where he was going, unable even to see the wall. Any step he took might be a step in the wrong direction. He was completely lost, and the wind wasn't helping give him any direction, for it seemed to be. blowing around him, coming from all directions at once.

This is it. I haven't a chance.

"Hey, boy!" The barked voice came out of the dark, and something small, furry, and warm brushed up against his leg. "You want to get into the maze, I bet! Follow me, I canget you there!"

He looked down, and he could barely see the dark shape of a fox against the white of the snow. A slim muzzle lifted in his direction as the fox looked up at him. "I'll stay withyou, just follow where I lead you. "

The fox moved off, and he stumbled after her. She took great care not to get more than a step ahead of him, so that he could always see her vague shape against the snow. He would never know how long it took to find the entrance to the maze, because everything blurred into a fight against the wind and the cold, but eventually she whisked off to his right, and he followed, to find that he had blundered into a place hemmed in by walls on both sides, windless and calm. He was in the maze! The snow fell straight down here, and without the wind, it almost seemed warm.

The first thing he did was take his hands out of his armpits and clap them over his ears. They burned as fiercely as if he'd dipped them in a fire, but he gritted his teeth and endured the pain until his ears and his hands were the same general temperaturecold, but not frozen.

" Hey, boy, did you know your chest is glowing ?" the fox asked with some interest. He looked down at his chest, and there was a faint patch of glowing light visible through the fabric of his shirt, about where the spot of warmth was. He reached into his shirt and brought out the Firebird's feather. He'd kept it with him at all times, waking or sleeping; keeping it had become such a habit he'd actually forgotten about it until now. Then again, it had stopped glowing once he was inside the Katschei's palace and gardens, and he'd wondered if the Katschei's magic had overpowered the Firebird's.

Once it was in the open, it redoubled its light, until it was as bright as a good lantern. Holding it over his head, Ilya found that he could see for some distance. He had not dared to have real hope before; it had only been determination that kept him on his feet. Now, for the first time since he found himself outside the maze, he began to hope that he would survive.