With a cry of fright she turned and fled. She did not laugh now, nor
mock him over her shoulder. She ran as for her life, and though he
strained every nerve and thew, until his temples were like to burst and
the snow swam red to his gaze, she drew away from him, dwindling in the
witch-fire of the skies, until she was a figure no bigger than a child,
then a dancing white flame on the snow, then a dim blur in the
distance. But grinding his teeth until the blood started from his gums,
he reeled on, and he saw the blur grow to a dancing white flame, and
then she was running less than a hundred paces ahead of him, and slowly
the space narrowed, foot by foot.
She was running with effort now, her golden locks blowing free; he heard
the quick panting of her breath, and saw a flash of fear in the look she
cast over her alabaster shoulder. The grim endurance of the warrior had
served him well. The speed ebbed from her flashing white legs; she
reeled in her gait. In his untamed soul flamed up the fires of hell she
had fanned so well. With an inhuman roar he closed in on her, just as
she wheeled with a haunting cry and flung out her arms to fend him off.
His sword fell into the snow as he crushed her to him. Her supple body
bent backward as she fought with desperate frenzy in his iron arms. Her
golden hair blew about his face, blinding him with its sheen; the feel
of her slender figure twisting in his mailed arms drove him to blinder
madness. His strong fingers sank deep into her smooth flesh, and that
flesh was cold as ice. It was as if he embraced not a woman of human
flesh and blood, but a woman of flaming ice. She writhed her golden head
aside, striving to avoid the savage kisses that bruised her red lips.
"You are cold as the snows," he mumbled dazedly. "I will warm you with
the fire in my own blood--"
With a desperate wrench she twisted from his arms, leaving her single
gossamer garment in his grasp. She sprang back and faced him, her golden
locks in wild disarray, her white bosom heaving, her beautiful eyes
blazing with terror. For an instant he stood frozen, awed by her
terrible beauty as she posed naked against the snows.
And in that instant she flung her arms toward the lights that glowed in
the skies above her and cried out in a voice that rang in Amra's ears
for ever after:
"_Ymir! Oh, my father, save me!_"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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