The Winter King
Page 174
“Any amplification spell—”
“Would not breathe heat back into the lump of ice that is my arm,” Verdan snapped. Then the anger faded from his expression as he once again focused his attention on the blade. “But like you, I cannot access that power. It is blocked from me. Perhaps the sword only recognizes one Heir at a time. Perhaps, if you’d gotten to it first, it would have recognized you instead of her.” Verdan regarded Khamsin with cold eyes. “Maybe if she dies, the sword will be free to be claimed again. This time, by its true and rightful Heir.”
Falcon looked alarmed. “You aren’t seriously suggesting we kill her? You’ll call a curse upon our House.”
“She is the curse. She always has been. Killing her can only set us free.”
“Or make it ten times worse!”
Before Verdan could answer, a shrill, ear-piercing shriek rent the air. Another shriek followed the first. Then another.
Then the screams of men began.
Falcon ran to the tent entrance and shoved back a flap, revealing a scene of carnage and chaos. Falcon’s small party of men had met up with the rest of their army not long after Verdan’s arrival. An invasion force of many thousands of Summerlanders and Calbernans. But their overwhelming numbers seemed somehow smaller now, as half the camp was running and shouting in chaos while enormous, white garm darted through their midst, shrieking, spewing blue vapor, and shredding men into mangled bits of flesh and bone.
“Sound the alarm!” Falcon shouted. “To arms! To arms!”
“Free me!” Kham cried. She struggled and kicked against her bonds. “For Halla’s sake, untie me and give me the sword. Hurry, or we’re all dead!”
“One of us is going to die,” Verdan growled. “But it won’t be me or Falcon.”
Kham gasped as Verdan swung Roland’s sword, but instead of biting into her flesh, Blazing sliced through the ropes binding her to the chair. He shoved the sword into his belt to free his hand, then reached down and hauled Khamsin to her feet.
“Father, give me the—” Falcon broke off in surprise. “What are you doing?”
“The sword’s useless to us so long as she lives. Time to remedy that problem.” Verdan shouldered Falcon aside and shoved Khamsin through the tent flaps, into the path of an oncoming garm.
Kham screamed and fell backward, clutching at her father’s arm as she tumbled. Her feet slipped on the icy ground, and the sole of her boots caught Verdan in the ankles, knocking his feet out from under him.
With a hoarse shout, Verdan fell on top of her.
She tried to roll free, but he landed on the edge of her leaden cloak and pinned her. The ties at her throat pulled tight against her neck. As Verdan scrambled to his feet, each frantic motion pulled the strings at her neck tighter. Choking, gasping for air, Kham ripped at the ties of her cloak with her bound hands. She managed to free herself and push up to her hands and knees in time to see a glint of malevolent red in a blur of onrushing white. Terror shot through her veins.
Verdan saw the garm, too. Shouting, he scrambled to free the sword stuffed in his belt.
The garm leapt. Its paralytic scream ripped through the air, and a cloud of blue vapor spewed from its mouth. Khamsin rolled instinctively onto her belly, dragging the leaden cloak atop her as the cloud of freezing cold enveloped them.
Frost crackled in her hair and numbed her legs, and the leaden cloak turned stiff as a plank of wood, trapping her inside a frozen cocoon. She heard her father shout, heard the garm scream. Then there was a loud thud, and Verdan collapsed on top of her, his body jerking like a trout on a string. Something hot and wet rained down on the back of her head. She opened her eyes to see blood spurting onto the snow in great, pulsating ruby jets. Roland’s sword lay gleaming in the snow several feet away.
Broad, taloned paws pounded the ground as an entire pack of garm raced past. More paralyzing shrieks rang out, and the screams of the fleeing Summerlanders and Calbernans cut off in midcry.
Kham pushed against the frozen lead cape and the crushing weight of her father’s armored body, barely able to breathe, let alone move. Her struggles caught the attention of a second pack, and two of the garm broke from the group to stalk towards her, heads lowered, red eyes glowing with malice.
“Falcon!” Her brother was standing in the tent entrance, watching her struggling to crawl free of their father’s corpse. “Help me!” she screamed. “Help me get the sword!”
But instead of rushing to help her, Falcon ducked inside the tent. The flaps fell closed behind him.
“Falcon!”
The scene was far too familiar for her liking, and this time there would be no Wynter riding in to save the day. Panicking, Roland’s sword well out of reach, she shoved and pushed against the heavy, immobile weight of her father’s body, but it wouldn’t budge. Her heart pounded faster than Hodri’s galloping hooves. Think, Khamsin! Calm down, and think! You haven’t been helpless a day in your life—for Halla’s sake, don’t pick now to start!
The closest of the approaching garm growled. Blue slime dripped from its fang-filled mouth.
Kham clawed and kicked at the ground, grunting with effort as she raised herself up on her elbows. Her father’s body shifted, sliding down her back and freeing her torso. Now only her hips and legs were pinioned beneath its deadweight.
She reached out a desperate hand towards Roland’s sword, hoping the sword’s proximity would aid her. A trickle of energy flowed into her veins—a far cry from the heat she could channel from the sun—but it amplified her weather magic, so she wasn’t about to complain. The wispy clouds overhead plumped and grew dark with gathering moisture. She fed more energy into them.
“Would not breathe heat back into the lump of ice that is my arm,” Verdan snapped. Then the anger faded from his expression as he once again focused his attention on the blade. “But like you, I cannot access that power. It is blocked from me. Perhaps the sword only recognizes one Heir at a time. Perhaps, if you’d gotten to it first, it would have recognized you instead of her.” Verdan regarded Khamsin with cold eyes. “Maybe if she dies, the sword will be free to be claimed again. This time, by its true and rightful Heir.”
Falcon looked alarmed. “You aren’t seriously suggesting we kill her? You’ll call a curse upon our House.”
“She is the curse. She always has been. Killing her can only set us free.”
“Or make it ten times worse!”
Before Verdan could answer, a shrill, ear-piercing shriek rent the air. Another shriek followed the first. Then another.
Then the screams of men began.
Falcon ran to the tent entrance and shoved back a flap, revealing a scene of carnage and chaos. Falcon’s small party of men had met up with the rest of their army not long after Verdan’s arrival. An invasion force of many thousands of Summerlanders and Calbernans. But their overwhelming numbers seemed somehow smaller now, as half the camp was running and shouting in chaos while enormous, white garm darted through their midst, shrieking, spewing blue vapor, and shredding men into mangled bits of flesh and bone.
“Sound the alarm!” Falcon shouted. “To arms! To arms!”
“Free me!” Kham cried. She struggled and kicked against her bonds. “For Halla’s sake, untie me and give me the sword. Hurry, or we’re all dead!”
“One of us is going to die,” Verdan growled. “But it won’t be me or Falcon.”
Kham gasped as Verdan swung Roland’s sword, but instead of biting into her flesh, Blazing sliced through the ropes binding her to the chair. He shoved the sword into his belt to free his hand, then reached down and hauled Khamsin to her feet.
“Father, give me the—” Falcon broke off in surprise. “What are you doing?”
“The sword’s useless to us so long as she lives. Time to remedy that problem.” Verdan shouldered Falcon aside and shoved Khamsin through the tent flaps, into the path of an oncoming garm.
Kham screamed and fell backward, clutching at her father’s arm as she tumbled. Her feet slipped on the icy ground, and the sole of her boots caught Verdan in the ankles, knocking his feet out from under him.
With a hoarse shout, Verdan fell on top of her.
She tried to roll free, but he landed on the edge of her leaden cloak and pinned her. The ties at her throat pulled tight against her neck. As Verdan scrambled to his feet, each frantic motion pulled the strings at her neck tighter. Choking, gasping for air, Kham ripped at the ties of her cloak with her bound hands. She managed to free herself and push up to her hands and knees in time to see a glint of malevolent red in a blur of onrushing white. Terror shot through her veins.
Verdan saw the garm, too. Shouting, he scrambled to free the sword stuffed in his belt.
The garm leapt. Its paralytic scream ripped through the air, and a cloud of blue vapor spewed from its mouth. Khamsin rolled instinctively onto her belly, dragging the leaden cloak atop her as the cloud of freezing cold enveloped them.
Frost crackled in her hair and numbed her legs, and the leaden cloak turned stiff as a plank of wood, trapping her inside a frozen cocoon. She heard her father shout, heard the garm scream. Then there was a loud thud, and Verdan collapsed on top of her, his body jerking like a trout on a string. Something hot and wet rained down on the back of her head. She opened her eyes to see blood spurting onto the snow in great, pulsating ruby jets. Roland’s sword lay gleaming in the snow several feet away.
Broad, taloned paws pounded the ground as an entire pack of garm raced past. More paralyzing shrieks rang out, and the screams of the fleeing Summerlanders and Calbernans cut off in midcry.
Kham pushed against the frozen lead cape and the crushing weight of her father’s armored body, barely able to breathe, let alone move. Her struggles caught the attention of a second pack, and two of the garm broke from the group to stalk towards her, heads lowered, red eyes glowing with malice.
“Falcon!” Her brother was standing in the tent entrance, watching her struggling to crawl free of their father’s corpse. “Help me!” she screamed. “Help me get the sword!”
But instead of rushing to help her, Falcon ducked inside the tent. The flaps fell closed behind him.
“Falcon!”
The scene was far too familiar for her liking, and this time there would be no Wynter riding in to save the day. Panicking, Roland’s sword well out of reach, she shoved and pushed against the heavy, immobile weight of her father’s body, but it wouldn’t budge. Her heart pounded faster than Hodri’s galloping hooves. Think, Khamsin! Calm down, and think! You haven’t been helpless a day in your life—for Halla’s sake, don’t pick now to start!
The closest of the approaching garm growled. Blue slime dripped from its fang-filled mouth.
Kham clawed and kicked at the ground, grunting with effort as she raised herself up on her elbows. Her father’s body shifted, sliding down her back and freeing her torso. Now only her hips and legs were pinioned beneath its deadweight.
She reached out a desperate hand towards Roland’s sword, hoping the sword’s proximity would aid her. A trickle of energy flowed into her veins—a far cry from the heat she could channel from the sun—but it amplified her weather magic, so she wasn’t about to complain. The wispy clouds overhead plumped and grew dark with gathering moisture. She fed more energy into them.
