Snow in Stormhaven

Once her eyes adjusted, Airi saw that they were looking down into a valley shadowed by dark clouds. A river carved its way through the valley like a winding blue road.

“Look! A town!” Nestor pointed at a sprawl of red-roofed buildings nestled at the bottom of the valley. A bell tower rose above all the other buildings. While the rest of the valley was shadowed by rain clouds, a perfect circle of sunshine glowed down onto the town.

“Is that Magisbury?” Airi frowned. It looked a bit small.

“I bet it’s Stormhaven. It's the nearest town to Star's End.” Nestor bounced up and down, his exhaustion forgotten. “I’ve never been to another town before!”

As they traveled into the valley, it began pouring overhead. Pulling on their hoods, they hurried along the ferny riverbank and soon came across the remains of a path that led them straight to the town gates.

Carved onto the wood of the gates were six words: “THE TOWN WHERE IT NEVER SNOWS.”

Airi pushed on the gates, but they wouldn’t budge. She glanced up at the gatehouse, which consisted of two stone buildings on either side of the gate and a wooden bridge connecting the two sides. “Anyone there?”

A guard poked his head out from the building to the left. “What’s your business in Stormhaven?” he yelled down.

“Just passing through?”

“Hmmph. So you’re tourists. Where do you come from?”

A second guard poked out of the right building. “They’re obviously not from Plumridge, or even Harveston. Their clothes are far too shabby.”

“Wait a minute. This is the north gate. You don’t think they came over the Wrath Mountains, do you?”

The second guard laughed. “Now you’re losing it. There’s nothing beyond the Wrath Mountains.”

For the first time, Nestor piped up, angrily, “There is too! There’s a village called Star’s End!”

“Uh-huh. And you two came from there?” scoffed the second guard. “Two children came from this fabled village that no one’s heard from in years?”

The guards exchanged snickers, and Airi felt her patience run thin. “Will you let us in or not? We’ve been walking for days.”

“Don’t let them in! They could have a foreign plague,” yelped a woman, appearing on the bridge between the two gatehouses.

“They’re only children,” said an old man, hobbling to the front. “And we’re the only town for miles.”

“Children? Where? I wanna see!” Airi saw the tops of small heads bob up and down on the bridge.

By now, it seemed like half the town had gathered on the bridge. Suddenly the clamor hushed as a man dressed in red shoved his way into view.

“It’s the Master Mage!” someone said.

“You didn’t have to come all this way. We were just about to send them away—”

The red-robed mage leaned down. “There’s no need to send them away. I’m rather curious about them,” he said in an aristocratic drawl.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that—” the people started to say.

But the mage had already leaped from the railing and landed neatly on the ground, light as a feather. Nestor’s mouth fell open. Clearly, the mage knew a spell he didn’t. And the mage hadn't even spoken a word to cast it.

“Good day,” the mage drawled. He looked far older than Airi, with ruby-red eyes and wavy blond hair crowned with a gold laurel wreath. His red robes spilled loosely from a clasp on his shoulder. They looked Greek-style, just like Mildred’s.

“Hi,” Airi said warily. “You’re... a mage?”

The young man laughed up at the people on the bridge, as if they were sharing a private joke. “Well, this just about proves it. They must be from across the mountains, or else they would have heard of me already, don’t you think?” The townspeople shouted in assent.

He turned back to Airi and Nestor. “To answer your question, little girl, my magus name is Boreas. But my birth name is Snow.” He waited with eager red eyes. “Snow White."

Airi was about to reply that his name fit him very poorly, when Nestor blurted, “Snow White? But—but then you’re...”

Snow smirked. “The crown prince, yes.” He yawned behind his hand. “And... you are?”

Airi hadn’t thought it possible, but she hated him even more than Mildred. “So if you’re a prince, why are you all the way out here?” she asked innocently.

Her words had the intended effect. Snow’s face flushed an ugly shade of purple. The king should have named him Eggplant Purple. “My father’s decisions are, I admit, difficult to understand for one as uneducated as yourself.” He regained his composure, smoothing a fold in his robe. “But I suppose your survival hinges upon whether I let you into Stormhaven or not.”

This was the part where they were supposed to beg for him to let them in, but pride kept Airi's mouth shut.

“Please let us in,” Nestor begged. Airi groaned internally. “I’m a mage too. I can help you out.”

“You? A mage? Did you hear that, everyone?” Snow laughed his haughty little laugh and turned to the townspeople, who joined in. Airi was reminded strongly of Kazuko and her followers. “The little boy thinks he’s a mage. Little boy, allow me to ask you something. If you're a mage, where is your crest?"

"My crest?"

Snow pointed to the gold crest pinned to his red robes. It appeared to be a ring of stars. "You see? I am a first-class mage. And you, boy? What's your class?"

"I... I don't know," Nestor said, looking down at his crest-less cloak.

Snow smirked. "You can't possibly call yourself a mage if you aren't even third-class."

"He's never been to Magisbury, so he hasn't had a chance to get one," Airi interrupted. "But we're headed there right now, so would you please let us in?"

Snow considered for a moment. "Well, I can’t possibly turn away a fellow mage, can I?  Illegitimate though he may be." The townspeople laughed. "Open the gates!”

Snow White stepped through in a whirl of red without bothering to look behind him, and Airi and Nestor chased after him.