Sanyare: The Winter Warrior (The Sanyare Chronicles Book 4)

by Megan Haskell

  The space between Daenor’s eyebrows furrowed, worry evident as he wrapped the makeshift bandage over the laceration. “This will hurt.”

  “Of course it will,” Rie snapped. She closed her eyes, took another cleansing breath. Anger wouldn’t help anything. Not now. Not at him. “Apologies.”

  Daenor brushed his hand across her brow, his expression turning resigned. “Here we go then.”

  Stretching Rie’s arm out perpendicular to her body—which brought more tears to her eyes—Daenor grasped her wrist and gently pulled her arm away from her body.

  Rie whimpered. The shoulder didn’t move. Daenor kept pulling, pushing his foot against her side to gain extra leverage. Rie ground her teeth together, pushing a strained breath between tight jaws. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Rie’s shoulder thunked into place. Immediately, the pain eased. She sagged in relief.

  Daenor stripped off his coat and top layer of leather armor, then removed his thermal undershirts.

  “While I appreciate the view,” Rie murmured, a smile on her lips, “I really don’t think this is an appropriate time.”

  “I’m glad to see your humor has already returned,” Daenor replied with a wry shake of his head, “but we need to immobilize your arm.”

  “You’re no fun.” Rie sat up, her arm naturally curling into her chest in self-preservation. “Help me take off my cloak.”

  Daenor complied, shifting in close to unclasp the buttons. With his face just a finger’s-length from her own, Rie leaned in to press her cheek to his.

  “We’ll figure a way out of this,” she murmured. She didn’t know how. She couldn’t See how. But she’d lived her entire life until just recently without the use of magic. She wouldn’t let her changing circumstances derail her ability to survive.

  “Of course we will,” Daenor replied, soft lips against her cheek. “Just make sure you let me know when you figure it out.”

  Pulling away, he spread the cloak behind her and used the long-sleeved t-shirt to improvise a sling.

  “Now what?” Daenor asked.

  “I think I’m going to take a nap.” There was nothing else to be done for the moment. Better to rest now and be fresh for whatever came next.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  THE FLIGHT BACK to the frost sidhe city was even faster than the flight to the village of Bjergtopp. Downhill, Judith didn’t have to fight for altitude. She just had to avoid the random outcroppings and trees that occasionally rose out of the snow.

  The baby was wrapped tightly and tucked into a sling against Judith’s chest. Just to be sure the child stayed safe and warm, but could still breathe, Judith kept her own arms around the bundle as well. Bren would not suffer from cold or jostling while in Judith’s care.

  Bren was one of the lucky ones, a child who had avoided the trauma of such an early and unexpected death. If she could still be raised in a loving family, she might retain her innocence. For once, Judith felt like she was fulfilling her purpose, ensuring that this child wouldn’t end up amongst the traumatized dead. Her soul would remain pure. Judith would make sure of it.

  The baby giggled, one arm wriggling free of the wrappings. Judith tucked it back in with a smile.

  The city appeared on the horizon, the sculpted ice of the central buildings rising high into the air. Sunlight sparkled from the crystalline peaks, refracting rainbows of light down onto the stockier snow-covered stone buildings at the perimeter. The ice wall surrounding it all was at least six strides deep, a strong defense against . . . what? Why would they need such a stout perimeter wall in a relatively unpopulated realm?

  And had the gates been closed when Judith arrived through the portal? She hadn’t even bothered to check, hadn’t entered the city at all. There had been no need. Nevertheless, it seemed closed and barred now.

  With Garamaen’s warning in the front of her mind, Judith knew she couldn’t just fly over the walls. But with the gates closed, how was she supposed to get inside?

  Judith’s raptor-eyed gaze zoomed in on the populace. Frost sidhe in thick cloaks and silver armor marched through the streets, while unarmored civilians dashed from one building to the next, carrying bundles and pushing carts. Her thoughts whirled. Even if she could get through the gates unnoticed, making her way to the barbegazi would require a small miracle. Whatever had them on alert, the frost sidhe were unlikely to be taken unaware.

  She worried her lip, possible options flitting through her thoughts. None seemed viable. None seemed safe. Bren had to be priority one but getting her to her people would serve priority two as well. She just had to get there. But how?

  On that thought, shouts sounded from the wall. An arrow sailed in her direction. Judith gasped, spiraling out of the way while her arms tightened around her precious cargo. Bren giggled with excitement, not understanding that this wasn’t an amusement ride.

  Archers were pouring out of the gate houses, running in precise formation to line the crenellations. Within two wing-beats, the city fortifications were filled with soldiers, their weapons nocked and aimed in her direction. Garamaen hadn’t been kidding.

  “Land outside the gates,” a voice boomed through some kind of amplification device.

  Judith’s brow furrowed, but she wasn’t going to argue. She couldn’t risk the baby, and they could have no reason to harm her if she offered no violence. Surely they wouldn’t brand her as an enemy combatant. Not now, so many months after the battle. Right?

  Her face pinched in worry, Judith landed as gently as possible more than a hundred lengths from the Crystal City gates. She kept her movements slow and deliberate, tucking her wings underneath her cloak, then lifting one hand, palm out, in a sign of no harm. The other hand supported Bren in her sling, hopefully drawing attention to the little one before the frost sidhe took up their arms.

  A smaller door opened from within the ice and iron-encrusted gates, pushing aside the piled drifts of snow with a creak and a groan.

  Five men in battledress strode out, weapons drawn. The door slammed shut behind them.

  “Halt,” the man at the point commanded. His stance was wide and balanced, his weapon ready but not yet pointed aggressively. “Do not take another step.”

  Judith complied, carefully keeping her hands where they were and making no move toward her weapon. She wouldn’t do anything to antagonize the frost sidhe, so long as they didn’t threaten her or the child.

  “State your purpose,” the man commanded.

  “I am Judith, Level Three Guardian in training. I need to take this child to her people in the city. She is the lone survivor of an attack on her family’s village.”

  “How did a guardian come to the Winter Realm without my knowledge or permission?”

  Judith’s eyebrow twitched in consternation. Maybe he didn’t see the baby in her arms.

  “I came through the portal, same as anyone else.” She unwrapped the sling to reveal Bren’s face. “This child—”

  “Is not my concern. You will be taken for further questioning. Leave your weapons on the ground.”

  Judith’s eyes narrowed. Something told her if she lost her weapon, she might never see it again. Or reach her destination. “This child must be taken to her people, and then I will answer your questions. But my weapon stays with me.”

  “You will leave it in the snow, or you will not enter the city.”

  “You would risk a baby’s life for the sake of your rules?”

  The man’s head twitched, as if throwing away a thought or dismissing a suggestion. Judith pressed on.

  “I am not here to harm anyone. I am a guardian, not a soldier.”

  “And yet your kind aided the enemy at the arches, and you carry a weapon that would cut through flesh and soul alike. Leave it or leave the realm.” He lifted his sword in an ancient overhead ready position, tip pointed toward Judith and blade parallel to the ground. She would have laughed at his pose, if not for the deadly gaze with which he challenged her.

  Bren’s little
arm broke free from her wrap once more, her tiny palm waving up at Judith. The child could not be harmed. It was the only surety that Judith could offer. And she couldn’t take the creature out of this realm, away from her family, whoever that may be.

  Gritting her teeth and swallowing down her pride, Judith pulled her sword from its sheath and placed it on the ground. She would not risk the child in combat, and somehow she knew that no matter what he said, this man was not going to let her in or out of the city without a fight.

  The man lowered his blade, but kept it unsheathed. He lifted a hand toward the others behind him. “Check her for weapons. Then bring her to the cell.”

  “What of the baby?” Judith called. “I must take her to her family.”

  “Bring them both,” the man commanded over his shoulder as he returned to the gate.

  Judith’s arms closed around Bren protectively as her wings flared. She set her chin.

  Four men approached, all wearing the fur-lined silver armor of the frost guard. Each carried a sword, the eyes behind their helmets determined, but not cruel.

  “We won’t take her from you,” the closest one said.

  Judith’s wings flared wider in an involuntary gesture of aggression that they would dare suggest what she had already been thinking.

  “She is my charge. I will return her to her family. If she comes to harm, someone will pay the price.”

  Of that, they could rest assured.

  “We’re not in the habit of hurting children,” another soldier said, this one surprising Judith with a woman’s voice. On second glance, her armor did have a slight curve to it that marked it as different from her male counterparts, but the difference was so minimal Judith hadn’t noticed a female form. “Even barbegazi children.”

  The disdain in the woman’s voice was evident, but she made no move toward the precious bundle.

  “Just follow us now, without protest, and you’ll both arrive safe inside,” the first man said.

  What else could she do? The arrows were still pointed at her. She couldn’t risk flight, or a stray shaft hitting the babe. Rubbing a thumb across Bren’s forehead, Judith surrendered to the frost sidhe. After checking her for weapons, the soldiers led her through the frozen gates.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  THE STONE FLOOR was hard. It seemed an obvious thought, but it was the first thing that came to mind as Rie’s gritty eyes cracked open in the dim green light of the underground hot springs.

  The second was that her brain hurt. Her head felt stuffed with wool batting, her tongue thick in her mouth. She spread her jaw wide, trying to clear the cobwebs from her ears, but her lips stuck together, dry and chapped. She could barely swallow.

  Rie shifted and tried to sit up. Daenor—arm wrapped around her waist— pulled her closer. He, it seemed, didn’t have a problem sleeping on cold granite. Even with her cloak and his coat beneath them, it felt like her hip and shoulder were being rubbed raw, the bones ground down in a losing battle against the rock.

  Rie gently pulled his wrist to the side, giving herself just enough room to slide out from beneath his warm heavy weight. She pushed herself to sitting, careful of her injured shoulder. Everything ached. Without her blades or her magic to enhance her healing, she was truly human slow.

  Rie lifted her hand to rub her neck, her fingers finding the cold metal of the collar. She’d forgotten about that. Already, the metal had rubbed her skin raw. What would happen in another day? Another week? She was chained to a wall. Like an animal. Like Fenrir.

  All this started because Garamaen captured him like a wild beast, tricked him into an eternity of shame and degradation. Now Rie would pay the price.

  She tried to swallow again, panic moving to the forefront of her muddy brain.

  What was she going to do? The pixies were gone. Were they even still alive? How would Garamaen know what had happened? What would he think when he found out?

  Rie rested her cheek on her knees, careful to keep her injured arm tucked safely against her ribs, as her thoughts circled in endless worry and confusion. She sought the calm center of her being, the place where visions might burst into light. Nothing.

  A sob broke free of her control. Would they be trapped here for the rest of their lives? How long would that be?

  Daenor’s arms wrapped around her from behind and pulled her into his lap, his warmth a blanket around her body and soul. Taking strength from Daenor’s hold, Rie grasped his hand, soaking up his warmth and concern.

  What would Garamaen think if he saw them now? How disappointed would he be? Worse, what of the other fae? They would never accept Rie into their ranks, never believe she was capable of becoming Sanyare in truth if she couldn’t even deal with giant wolves. Sentient wolves, yes, but wolves nonetheless.

  Then again, did she care what the greater fae thought? Sanyaro’s role was as a peacekeeper, a mediator of the nine realms. Did she truly want to take on that responsibility? She still wasn’t sure. Justice and truth were lofty ideals. Peace an aspiration.

  Her thoughts drifted to the human refugees Plink had rescued from the Upper Realm. Most now lived in the Shadow Realm, in an enclave sponsored by King Aradae in thanks for their help in the Battle of the Arches. A few, like Telthedis, remained at Garamaen’s estate, learning the ways of the Human Realm. These people had been oppressed their entire lives, had risen up against their former masters to fight with Rie for their freedom.

  They had changed the status quo, had begun the journey toward independence, and perhaps equality. That was a goal she could get behind.

  But she couldn’t do anything from a cave in the Winter Realm.

  Rie’s tongue stuck to the top of her mouth. When she finally got it open, she could barely speak.

  “What are we going to do?” she croaked. Her lips cracked open and stung with the movement.

  “You need water. You’re dehydrated.”

  Rie noted that he hadn’t answered her question, but she couldn’t disagree. The headache that pounded behind her eyeballs wasn’t going away.

  Daenor glanced over at the blue-green luminescent lake with a grimace. The wolves had left them without any other option. They didn’t even have a cup or vessel to drink with.

  “Let’s get you over there.”

  Gently moving Rie off his lap, Daenor stood and offered Rie a hand up. She took it, gladly. Except, it almost wasn’t enough. She stumbled, her head swimming and vision turning black. Daenor caught her to his chest while she fought to stay conscious. Leaning heavily on his shoulder, Rie shuffled to the water’s edge, chain dragging along behind with a clank and a rustle. Daenor helped lower her to sitting.

  Rie cupped her hands and drank. The water tasted heavily of minerals, with a slight undertone of bitter green algae. But the warm wash of liquid overrode her distaste. It was hydration. Pulling the water to her lips again and again, Rie swallowed until her belly was full and gurgling. Then she sat back, exhausted.

  “So,” she began. “This might be our worst predicament, yet.”

  “Mmm,” Daenor demurred.

  “You don’t agree?”

  “I didn’t say that. But I saw you after the beating at the hands of the fire sidhe. You looked a lot worse.”

  “But I had you there with a healing potion to fix me up. I wish I had that again, here, but we’re on our own.”

  “Maybe.”

  Daenor’s eyes flicked up to the ceiling and back down to her face, the movement so fast, she almost missed it. Unsure if they were being watched, Rie was careful not to draw attention to whatever it was he was indicating. In any case, she was pretty sure she knew.

  The pixies were here. They had found them, or followed them, or something.

  “How long?” Rie whispered.

  Daenor gave the tiniest of shrugs. “Just noticed.”

  Rie’s thoughts whirled. At least someone knew where they were. But then her stomach growled. They hadn’t eaten since the little bit of alpine weasel they’d caught the ni
ght before. They’d burned a lot of energy since then.

  Rie’s gaze traveled around the cavern once more. Perhaps the wolves had left them some food.

  Only one wolf remained in the cavern with the pack’s hostages. With her nose tucked into her tail, Rie couldn’t be sure, but she thought it was Lil. Had the youngest of the pack been given guard duty? Was it a punishment? Regardless, it was possible that the arrangement could be used to her advantage.

  The rest of the cavern was basically empty. A single tunnel led out the way they had come in. Darkness shadowed the space, making it impossible to see more than a few feet beyond the hot springs cavern. However, four more chains had been attached to the wall in a neat row, each spaced equally apart. It didn’t look like this place had served as a dungeon until now, but Rie couldn’t imagine what the purpose of the heavy links could have been.

  Moreover, how had the wolves acquired the chains, and then attached them to the wall? It wasn’t as if they could simply go shopping in town. Nor could they use the tools that would be necessary to pound the metal into stone. Rie supposed there were two possibilities, either they’d found this cave already built like this—which then raised the question, by whom?—or they’d had help preparing the space for prisoners. If the latter, why so many chains? Had they expected even more prisoners? Were there others for whom they held a grudge?

  Lil’s tail twitched, then she stood up to turn a circle before lying down again.

  “Did you get stuck with guard duty?” Rie asked, before the wolf could close her eyes.

  The wolf was the only other creature in the space that Rie could see. She wondered if there might be a way to turn her to their side.

  Lil gazed at Rie with an indeterminate expression. She licked her lips and yawned, her tongue rolling out between long white fangs. “I needed a nap.”

  “It is surprisingly comfortable in here,” Rie lied.

  “No need to lie to me,” Lil replied. “I saw you shifting in your sleep. Fragile creatures.”