“Stop!” Fenrir roared. “He is mine! If you kill him, there will be no deal.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“CONTAIN HIM!” A man stepped out of a shadowed corner of one of the frost sidhe mounds. Wearing the full fur-lined silver armor of the frost sidhe, and a battle helm with a tall blue crest, Rie couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed him before now. The polished battle-dress should have marked him out immediately, but either he was extremely well hidden, or they had all been so focused on the melee, they hadn’t paid attention to their surroundings.
For Rie, it very well could have been the latter.
Regardless, the man strode forward over the snow as if walking on bare dirt ground. Each step was braced on solid ice, the snow freezing in place to hold his weight. This man would never need snowshoes.
Fenrir removed his paw from Rie’s back, stepping away from his prisoner. Rie knew another wolf must have picked up the chain—Fenrir wouldn’t let her escape now that the fight was over—but at least she could sit upright.
Fenrir curled a lip as the frost sidhe commander approached with his hand held out in greeting. The wolf might be working with the frost sidhe, but he wasn’t too happy about it.
“Come now, is that the way to treat an ally?” the frost sidhe murmured. “I would think you would be grateful after all I’ve done for you.”
“Yes. I am grateful,” Fenrir replied, but his teeth were still bared. “Bring me the oath breaker, and our business will be done.”
“Of course.” The frost sidhe motioned for the pile to untangle itself, and for Garamaen to be brought forward. Garamaen hung limp and unconscious between three of the frost sidhe, one on each arm and another holding his feet. A great gash crossed his face from right eyebrow across his lips to the left side of his chin. His cloak had been torn free and left in the snow. The clothing beneath was ripped and bloody. Bite marks marred the flesh of his calf, and good arm.
Garamaen’s body was tossed at the great wolf’s feet. His head hit a rock, and Rie winced in sympathetic pain.
“I told you not to kill him.”
The general smirked at Fenrir. “He’s not dead. Your own wolves did most of the real damage. The poisoned blades only put him to sleep faster.”
So that was how they’d overcome him. Only one had to touch him, to break the skin. Either the wolves would suffocate his magic, or the sidhe would send him unconscious. With their overwhelming numbers, they’d managed both. It was a clever, if perhaps overzealous, trap.
The question remained, how did the frost sidhe know that Garamaen would come?
Fenrir sniffed Garamaen’s face. With exaggerated slow-motion, the wolf bit down into the crook of Garamaen’s collarbone. New blood seeped from the space where teeth had broken skin.
“Are you satisfied?” the frost sidhe general asked.
“Yes. Take them.”
The two frost sidhe soldiers who had carried Garamaen’s body took the chains from the wolves.
“On your feet,” the general said. “We have a hike ahead of us, and we need to be back in the city before nightfall. I hear this territory is controlled by a dangerous predator these days.”
“Wait,” Rie begged. “My friend—”
“The pest is dead,” Maethor sneered. “And if not, it will be soon.” His gaze searched the sky and area around Rie. “Fair warning to any that remain, try anything, and you’ll be frozen where you fly.”
Rie swallowed down a sob, unshed tears pooling in her eyes. But the sorrow quickly turned to anger. Niinka had been her friend for over eighty years. She had traveled with and entertained, protected and informed. She was the leader of the pixie swarm. Without her, what would happen to the others? Where had they even gone? The general’s dismissal of the pixie due to her diminutive stature was a slap to her importance.
The frost sidhe holding her leash yanked her to her feet. Three others surrounded her, their faces mostly hidden by their helms. What she could see, was more than unfriendly.
With blades pointed at her throat, the soldiers none too gently forced her hands behind her back, tying them together with a length of tight twine. Rie whimpered as the pressure on her shoulder increased. Though she tried to give herself a bit of slack, the sidhe forced her wrists together, the thin but strong rope cutting into her skin.
Daenor was similarly bound, but the soldiers surrounding him didn’t seem to be taking as much pleasure from their duty.
With another smirk in Fenrir’s direction, the frost sidhe commander turned on his heel and marched down the hill. The soldiers yanked on the chains still connected to the collars on their necks, and Rie and Daenor followed. Rie glanced over her shoulder one last time, to see Garamaen being dragged into the cave by two of Fenrir’s minions. Blood ran down his face in rivulets, the cuts and gashes from the fight still flowing. Torn and bloodied, he looked just this side of death.
Rie would come back for him.
***
Hiking through the untouched snow was an exercise in futility for Rie and Daenor. With every step, they sank up to their knees in white powder, while the frost sidhe walked across the surface without a trace.
“Can’t you help us out here, a little?” Rie asked. “We’d all move faster if you could harden the snow for us.”
The general glanced over his shoulder. “Why should I make your journey easier? You, who would tear our souls from our bodies, if you still had your magic to call on?”
Rie frowned, completely taken aback by the comment. “Why would I do that?”
“I saw what you did in the Battle of the Arches. Nearly forty percent of our army was lost.”
Forty percent? That couldn’t be right. She thought back to the aftermath of the battle. Many had died, but of the bodies on the field, the frost sidhe had the smallest percentage. Was their army so small compared to the other realms?
The soldiers in the line glared at Rie, their gazes narrowed and angry. There was no love for her, that was certain.
“Yet here you are, traipsing through our realm as if you own it. Acting as if you can do whatever you please, without consequence,” the general continued.
He paused, pushing his face in close to Rie’s, their noses almost touching. “There. Are. Consequences. And you will feel their full measure.” General Maethor grinned, the vicious expression turning his pale white face from man into monster.
Rie swallowed. For the first time since starting this journey, she felt like she was in enemy territory. The frost sidhe could tear her apart and may yet.
The general’s face suddenly smoothed, his expression instantly morphing from wicked glee to thoughtful calculation.
“However, you are correct that we do not have much time to waste.” His voice had a smooth modulation, the speech pattern changing into a formal protocol. Rie heard the change, but said nothing, filing the information away in a separate part of her brain to examine later. Something odd was going on, but she couldn’t quite determine what it was.
“Viktor, retrieve the sled. We will return to the city before nightfall.”
One of the soldiers—Viktor, apparently—strapped narrow polished wooden boards to his feet and slid down the hill faster than a full sprint. He tilted from side to side, the snow spraying in great waves behind him. Rie’s eyebrow lifted. Under different circumstances, that looked like fun.
Everyone else trudged on, their pace constrained and impatience written on every movement. The general still refused to harden the snow, forcing Rie and Daenor to plow their way through the drifts. It seemed petty, and unnecessary, like he was making more trouble for himself than anyone else. Especially since he’d already called for the sled to speed things up.
Viktor returned moments later, driving a team of six giant white fuzzy-horned deer in front of a wide sled that looked like it could seat at least a half-dozen men comfortably.
Notably, it would not fit everyone in the company.
The general climbed into the cushioned front se
at, right behind Viktor. He pulled several thick fur hides over his lap, while Rie and Daenor were shoved unceremoniously onto hard wooden slats in the back. The soldier guards climbed in after them, never releasing the chains. They sat on the cushioned bench as well, their backs to their general, watching the rear.
Viktor snapped the reins on the team, and they were off, the wind picking up with the speed of the animals down the mountain. Ice pricked the skin of Rie’s cheeks, a stinging pain that she couldn’t seem to avoid, no matter which way she turned. With her hands tied behind her back, she couldn’t lift her hood to cover her face. She tucked her chin down, doing her best to protect her face, but the improvement was marginal at best.
Somehow, even prison seemed welcoming at this point. It would be warmer, or at least out of the wind.
Daenor scooted closer to her, his shoulder touching. He slid his hands closer to her side. Rie thought he was simply trying to grasp hands, for comfort or warmth, it didn’t much matter. But what she found lightened her heart more than any romantic gesture.
Cupped inside his palms, two tiny bodies wearing miniature fur cloaks huddled together. The rise and fall of a chest pushed tears into Rie’s eyes. At least two of the pixies had survived. She didn’t know which two, and they couldn’t talk about it now, not with the guards watching. But whether injured or just hiding, the pixies hadn’t all died or disappeared.
Rie swallowed down a hard lump of emotion, the relief astounding in its depth. They were alive. It was something. She leaned into Daenor with a little more force, trying to express her emotions without words. However he had managed to save the pixies, whatever had transpired, he had achieved far more than she had been able.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
THE TUNNEL OPENING was hidden beneath a loose stone tile in Vegard’s office, beneath his desk. As far as hiding places went, Judith thought it was pretty secure. Very few people would have access to this room, and even fewer would think to check beneath the thick slab with barely a hint of broken grouting. Certainly, she never would have considered it.
Vegard pulled up the stone using a clever metal stick with a hook at one end. Then, grabbing the slab with both hands, he heaved it to the side. Judith gazed into the small space. The opening dropped a few feet into what looked like a slightly larger space, certainly big enough for the barbegazi to crouch together. Judith would fill the entire void.
“I’m not going to fit,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ll never get my wings tucked in tight enough.”
Vegard patted her arm in a friendly, if patronizing, reassurance. “It’s bigger than it looks.”
“Apprentice Sanyare and her consort fit in an even smaller space,” Eira added. “Even I have to crouch to crawl through the tunnel from my hut to the outside.”
“And how often have you done that?” Vegard asked with a raised eyebrow.
Eira looked a bit sheepish. “I’ve tested it out once or twice, just to make sure there were no problems that needed to be resolved.”
Vegard lifted an eyebrow but didn’t push the matter. Judith couldn’t tell if he was angry or amused.
“In any case, if the dark elf can fit, I’m sure you can, too,“ Vegard said. “He’s quite a bit taller.”
“He is?” That was surprising, but didn’t much matter. “But it’s not the height I’m worried about, it’s the width. If my wings get stuck, I won’t be able to do anything about it. I’ll have to be dug out.”
Vegard shrugged. “It’s this, or risk being caught on the streets. The frost sidhe don’t know about our tunnels.”
Did she dare risk being stuck in the tunnels? Or were the streets a better option, given her size?
“You first,” she motioned to Eira. “Make sure the baby gets where she needs. I will enter last.”
“We won’t let you fall behind,” Eira replied. Now that she was in her element, with her own kind and in a place that she knew, her confidence seemed to have blossomed.
Eira handed Bren to Judith, before lowering herself down into the hole. The baby mewled weakly, shifting in her blankets, but her arms no longer pushed out of the cloth. How had she deteriorated so quickly, and without Judith’s knowledge?
Judith pressed a cheek to Bren’s cool forehead, praying she would be okay. How much more trauma could this tiny body take?
“Give her to me,” Eira urged.
With one more gentle squeeze, Judith handed the baby down to the barbegazi, who immediately disappeared out of sight. Vegard was next, dropping silently into the hole.
“You’ll need to replace the stone,” he said. “Cover our tracks, just in case.”
“Understood.” Another reason she should remain at the back of the procession. She would keep anyone from reaching that baby.
When Vegard disappeared, it was Judith’s turn. Pressing her wings to her back as tightly as she could, Judith squeezed into the small hole, feet first. Her feathers rustled and protested the tight fit, a few coming loose in the process. Nothing that would hinder future flight, but still disconcerting. This was a terrible idea. Standing in the hole, the top of her head remained a few inches above ground. It made manipulating the stone tile easier, but a knot of dread formed in her stomach. She was a creature of light and air and open spaces, not dark and dank and tight confines. Her breathing sped as she contemplated what she was about to do. The walls seemed to press in on her, like a heavy weight on her consciousness.
Kneeling fully into the space, Judith swallowed, attempting to calm her restless nerves. This was not the Hollows. The souls of the dead would not attack her here. It was only a tight tunnel that would lead to safety. She could do this. She had to do this. For Bren. For Garamaen. Even for Rie.
Pressing her shoulders back, Judith sealed the hole and examined her surroundings. Kneeling on the floor, Judith was forced to lean forward with one hand on the ground or force her wings into a terribly uncomfortable position. Luckily, the space was empty, so nothing would get knocked over or destroyed with her movement. She shifted back and forth, wobbling around in a tight circle, looking for the tunnel entrance. There were two. In fact, the space she sat in was only a little larger than the tunnel itself and looked like it was probably a waystation for a more intricate network beneath the ground of the city. Lit with a dim green light from some kind of bioluminescent growth, Judith could see just enough to make out the edges of the space, but not enough to see where the others had gone.
She peered down the tunnel in one direction. She’d picked correctly.
“This way,” Eira whispered, her voice a beacon of hope.
Judith waddled forward, her knees practically touching her shoulders as she tried to keep her wings from dragging in the dirt while still moving. Eventually, she gave up the pretense of walking, and dropped to her knees to crawl like a fledgling in the nest.
If Eliphaz could see her now . . . .
Measure by slow measure, Judith wriggled and dragged her way through the tunnel. They passed a few other openings, made a few turns in the near-dark, but Eira and Vegard paused and waited for her at every crossroads along the way. They weren’t going to let her get lost in the dark down here, thankfully.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the tunnel opened up into a much larger room. Though she still couldn’t stand straight, she was able to get her feet beneath her, and brush her dirty hands off on the tough leather leggings she’d chosen for this journey. It was a good thing, too. Anything more delicate would have been torn to shreds on the uneven rocks of the tunnel.
Meanwhile, Vegard found a stick hidden in the corner, and began tapping an intricate rhythm on the ceiling. Moments later, a crack appeared, then an opening.
“Vegard,” a male voice spoke from the bright light above them. “I thought you were staying at the office to find a way to free Eira.”
“I didn’t have to. She freed herself.”
“We have an emergency,” Eira interrupted, stepping under the light. “We need a nursemaid, and quickly
.”
Eira held Bren up to the opening and a loud gasp echoed down into the room.
“Get Inghrit,” the man said. Footsteps pounded across the ceiling, Judith assumed to fulfill the command.
Meanwhile, a rough spun rope ladder lowered down into the hole. Eira immediately climbed up and out of the hole, Vegard close behind. Words were spoken Judith couldn’t hear, then a head appeared, hanging over the ledge.
“Come,” Vegard said. “The way is open.”
Judith nodded and swallowed, eager to be out of the tight confines and stretch her wings. Not that she expected the barbegazi headquarters to be much bigger above ground, but at least she wouldn’t be rolling around in the muck any longer.
The rope ladder was retracted. Judith waddled forward, looking up into Vegard’s grinning face. He probably found her predicament amusing. Under different circumstances, she probably would have, too. But she grimaced instead, stretching out cramped leg and back muscles as she stood fully upright.
Her head popped out of the small opening first, her eyes just able to see over the edge of the hole without needing to stand on tiptoes.
Four curious gazes watched her, while Vegard just grinned with amusement. Eira was notably absent, and Judith hoped it was because she was rushing to care for baby Bren.
Deciding her best tactic was to get out of the hole, Judith maneuvered her hands and elbows up to the ledge and jumped.
Her wings banged against the other side of the exit. Judith shuddered from the impact, pins and needles racing down the length of her wings. The sensation was worse than hitting an elbow on the corner of a table. Judith dropped back to the ground.
Vegard approached, hand extended. “Do you need help out?”
“No, thank you,” Judith replied. It was humiliating enough to be covered in dirt and stuck in a hole. She didn’t need the much smaller creature yanking on her.
Sanyare: The Winter Warrior (The Sanyare Chronicles Book 4) Page 17
