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

by Megan Haskell

  “How do you know he’s being tortured?” Judith asked. “If you can’t See the wolves, can’t lead us to their den, how can you know how he’s being held?”

  Rie paused, for once hesitating. “I’m in contact with Angeni, his human wife and my great-great-many-times-great-grandmother. She says he is barely holding on. We don’t have time to waste.”

  “You underestimate the wolves,” Vegard interrupted. “They won’t be easy to kill, and they won’t be anxious to let Sanyaro out of their control. This is not just Fenrir’s vengeance, it’s the entire pack who has been exiled. Besides, it’s likely they’ve moved on to a new den. A search could be long and fruitless.”

  “So, what are you suggesting?” Rie demanded, an edge rising in her tone. It seemed she wasn’t always calm and composed. Somehow, that was gratifying.

  “We set our own trap. Draw Fenrir and the general out,” Judith replied.

  Rie lifted a hand and waved away the idea with a shake of her head. “They’ll see through an ambush. The general is too smart to leave his city unguarded.”

  “We could force an evacuation, as they’ve done to us,” Vegard suggested. “We have the power to pour an avalanche over the city.”

  Rie shook her head. “No, there are too many innocents, there would be too much collateral damage.”

  “The frost sidhe are tough, built for the cold as we are,” Vegard argued.

  “There are children in that city!” Rie exclaimed. “I will not intentionally harm innocents.”

  “What if we attack from the inside?” Judith asked, a grin lifting the corners of her lips. Aegasson was in that city somewhere, gathering supporters to end the general’s madness. She would need to convince him to support Rie, at least enough to join his efforts with their own. But they all had the same purpose in mind. Surely he would see the plan’s logic.

  “We could scare the people into hiding—into safety—then remove the protection of the army and draw Maethor out on his own.”

  Rie’s gaze narrowed with intrigue. “And how would we achieve that?”

  “I met a man in the frost sidhe prison—”

  “What were you doing in prison?” Rie interrupted.

  “I was nearly shot down trying to return Bren to her people. But that’s beside the point. The point is, I know someone who is already working against the general, building support to overthrow his leadership of the city. If we find him, perhaps we can pinch Maethor between our forces and the mutiny from within.”

  “Do you know where to find this man?”

  Judith turned to look at Vegard. “Felman gave him a safe house in exchange for the information about Maethor’s plans. Do you know where your grandfather would have put him?”

  Vegard shrugged. “We can ask him.”

  “So we find this frost sidhe rebel, we convince him to help us, and then what?” Rie asked. “It still doesn’t solve the problem of rescuing Garamaen. Without Sanyaro in his hall, peace between the nine realms is lost.”

  “Once the wicked soul is removed from his mortal body, Maethor will theoretically return to his prior self. If that’s true, he can be reasoned with, and surely convinced to turn against Fenrir,” Judith replied.

  Rie frowned. “There is no love lost between me and the frost sidhe. I doubt Maethor will choose to aid me or Garamaen in any way after the loss at the Arches.”

  Daenor smirked at Rie, a teasing light in his eyes. “After months becoming entwined with an invader that you called forth, you might be surprised what he would do to prevent that from happening again.”

  Judith stiffened, horrified that they would even consider using the souls of the wicked to torture the living. “The souls serving their time in the afterlife must remain there until called for rebirth by the Moirai. There will be no second chances if Rie disrupts the system again.”

  “Yes, yes. I know that. But he doesn’t.” A lopsided grin tugged at Daenor’s cheek. “A man will do many things to save his soul.”

  ***

  While Rie and Daenor prepared for the confrontation at the gate, Judith snuck back into the city through the underground tunnels that acted as the barbegazi thoroughfare. Judith knew Vegard was careful to choose the routes with the widest passages, but she was anxious to leave the confines of stone and stretch her wings in the sky once more. Already, it had been nearly a week since she’d seen daylight. She was beginning to forget what it felt like to have the sun on her feathers.

  Vegard tapped three times on the ceiling. Then twice more. And three times again. Clearly some kind of code, because a trapdoor opened above their heads. Aegasson peered down into the opening, sword bare in his hand, but not pointed at them. Not yet.

  His eyes narrowed. “Judith. I’d assumed you were dead since you clearly weren’t successful on the mountain. Why, in all the nine, are you here?”

  “I need your help,” Judith said, hands held out to the side in a show of non-aggression.

  “I’ll be leaving now,” Vegard said, turning to head back the way they’d arrived. “I hope I see you after all this is done, Judith.”

  Within heartbeats he disappeared down the dark tunnel.

  Aegasson kept his gaze trained on Judith, hardly deigning to notice the barbegazi’s departure.

  “May I come up?” Judith asked, deciding polite would be the proper way to handle this meeting.

  Aegasson offered a hand, pulling her into the enclosed goat shed while continuing to speak. “I told you, I won’t aid the enemy, even when the enemy is also my enemy’s enemy. It doesn’t make us friends.”

  Lean muscles flexed beneath a thin gray shirt as he crossed his arms over his chest and lifted a white-blond eyebrow at his uninvited guest.

  Judith stretched, ruffling her feathers to relieve some of the tension from the dark confined space. Unlike most barbegazi buildings, the goat shed had been built to accommodate the height of the frost sidhe, so Judith didn’t have to duck either, which was a nice change.

  “I understand that,” Judith replied, looking around the small room. “I do. I understand that the frozen army lost a lot of good people in the Battle of the Arches, but that wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t even Apprentice Sanyare’s fault. She was trying to end the war before it began, trying to stop a potential genocide and enslavement of the human race. She was naive and reckless, but not callous.”

  A narrow cot was pushed against one wall, a large pack stashed beneath. The frost sidhe’s armor was carefully arranged at the foot of the bed.

  Judith’s attention flipped back to her host.

  “Apprentice Sanyare is a fool, and too young to hold such power. The humans were never at risk. Their technology has moved beyond us,” Aegasson replied.

  “Regardless, it was Othin’s decision to form an army. It was Thanur’s decision to join him. It was Maethor’s choice to follow. Rie did what she felt was necessary to protect an entire race of people.”

  With a start, Judith realized she actually believed that. She felt some of her own suppressed vitriol toward the girl dissipate.

  “We are bannermen to the Upper Realm. We cannot survive without their imports. We had no choice but to support Othin in his war,” Aegasson said.

  “There is always a choice. Now you have a choice. Help me return Maethor to his sanity and free Sanyaro from the wolf’s den. Save this realm from the destruction of its leaders.”

  “And how would I do that?”

  “You said you had men and women who would follow you, who saw Chaos coming and would choose you over General Maethor. Did you find them?”

  Aegasson’s eyes narrowed. “And if I say yes?”

  “Then call them to arms. Tell as many non-combatants as you can—as you trust—to evacuate the city or find shelter underground. We attack at midday tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  RIE’S CLOAK SWIRLED around her legs, the wind tugged at her hood. The city gates were closed, as expected. The archers on the wall, also expected. What wasn’t e
xpected were the pair of wolves standing on either side of Maethor.

  “That explains my lack of visions,” Rie murmured, her khukuri blades already held in her hands.

  “It certainly does,” Daenor replied. His expression was grim and determined, his knuckles white on the hilt of his blade.

  The general watched them from the top of the wall. The wolves snarled, the sound carrying over the four hundred yards or so between the city wall and the duo with bared steel.

  “Lay down your weapons and accept defeat,” Maethor taunted. “You’ll never make it to the portal in time to flee this realm. You are trapped.”

  Rie frowned. This wasn’t how she’d imagined this confrontation. She hadn’t expected it to be easy, but she also hadn’t anticipated standing in front of the gates like a fool for bells.

  “Where is Judith?” Rie mumbled, keeping her words low for Daenor’s ears alone. Judith was supposed to raise the signal that would order the barbegazi avalanche that would foment chaos in the city. Rie and Daenor were only supposed to be a short-term distraction to keep Maethor’s attention away from the people at his back.

  “She’d better get here soon,” Daenor replied. “If I stand still much longer, I may become one of those ice statues the frost sidhe use to decorate their buildings.” He paused. “You don’t think they’re actual people, frozen solid as punishment, do you?”

  “I doubt it. The ice looked too clear and blue to have a solid core.”

  Unlike the wall. Solid steel, Garamaen had said. And buried as deep as it was tall. There would be no breaking down the obstacle.

  “You’re probably right. That’s a bit too gruesome for the common folk, anyway. But I wouldn’t put it past Maethor.”

  “He’s being ridden by a wicked soul,” Rie replied. “A soul that may have spent a thousand lifetimes in torment, denied a new body and a second chance.”

  “His choices in his past set his future.”

  “Perhaps. But now we have to deal with him.”

  “Can you sense the wicked soul?” Daenor asked, the question curious, not judgmental. “I mean, are you sure there are two souls in there and we can’t just outright kill this guy? Because that would certainly be much easier.”

  “Not at this distance,” Rie replied. They were just out of range of the archers, but that also meant they were out of range of her soul-speaking abilities.

  “Too bad.”

  It would make everything easier if they didn’t have to get close to Maethor to exorcise the wicked from his system. But Rie didn’t know how to send a soul back to the Daemon Realm, except by touch, and even then, she didn’t know how she would determine which soul was righteous—or at least right—and which should be removed.

  Soulspeech and Soultouch. That’s what Judith had said was required for this job.

  “I’m giving her a quarter of a bell,” Rie said.

  “And then what? We turn tail and run? Or do we rush headlong into an ambush?”

  Rie blew out a breath. Her impatience was getting the best of her. “You’re the one who was complaining of turning into an ice statue.”

  “Just small talk. I’ve been burning a bit of extra heat, and this coat is actually quite warm. All things considered, I’m doing all right. How’s your shoulder?”

  “Good enough.” Rie rolled her shoulders back and down, releasing the tension from the mostly healed right side. The muscle remained a bit tight but wouldn’t hinder her movements in a fight. “But we can’t stay out here forever. They have to be wondering what we’re doing.”

  The sun had risen high above the city, the appointed time for Judith’s arrival. Midday. And already it began its descent. At least they had one thing going for them, the sky was clear and the sun was bright. Maybe even too bright, its reflection sparkling in the white of snow and city.

  “There,” Daenor said, nodding his head toward the bright blue sky.

  The outline of gray wings against a fluffy white cloud. It was the signal. The time had finally arrived.

  Daenor held out his sword in a straight line from his body, lighting the blade with bright red and orange flame. A second signal to the barbegazi that all was ready. Rie’s own khukuri knives twirled, anxious to slice their way through battle.

  The earth began a slow rumble, the sound like a distant thunderstorm that refused to end.

  Rie jogged forward as the ground began to shift and shake. A path cleared before her, the snow sifting away from her feet even as she picked up the pace. She let out a wild war cry, running headlong toward the wall and its occupants.

  The first of the archers let loose their arrows. With a thought, the shafts burst into flame, burning away to ash before coming close to their targets.

  Three hundred lengths. Two hundred.

  The earth shook harder, the wall itself seeming to undulate and sway from the movement at its foundation. Rie and Daenor couldn’t defeat such an engineering marvel, but the barbegazi’s strength was in the earth. Strategic tunneling and an earthquake, and the wall began to crumble.

  An archer fell, tumbling over the side of the violently shaking edifice. Screams as a section of steel caved into a sinkhole that had been excavated beneath it. The arrows stopped flying, the frost sidhe more concerned with finding a way off their deathtrap than in attacking the two people sprinting toward them.

  The final one hundred-length dash.

  Almost no one was left standing on the steel and ice structure of the city’s fortification. At least five lengths of wall had completely fallen into the earth, another ten were bent and misshapen.

  The earth stopped shaking. A distant crack echoed down from the mountain peak, the sound like a gunshot. The clock had started.

  Rie and Daenor dodged their way over and between dazed bodies and newly exposed steel struts. But Rie had lost sight of the general. She had to find him before the snow buried them all.

  ***

  Judith swooped and dove, spinning between buildings and away from arrows aimed at her heart as she followed Aegasson through the streets toward the rear gate of the city. It was the same gate she had entered through with baby Bren, the same gate that had been barred from the inside.

  The entire city was shaking now, the ice buildings quickly cracking and falling to the earth. Judith regretted seeing the civilians struggling to escape the chaos, unable to help them. She prayed the gods would be kind and grant them safety, or if not, at least a mercifully quick death.

  Already, she heard the voices of the dead filling her ears, and the quick silence of the reapers coming to claim their charges.

  But Judith followed Aegasson and the two dozen men and women who had chosen to side with him against their general. All had prepared for this moment. They knew the plan. And yet, Judith could see the concern flitting through their eyes.

  “Watch out!” Judith shouted as a smaller building tumbled to the side, toward the soldiers on the run.

  A woman wearing the silver battle regalia of the frozen army lifted a hand, blasting the building with a gust of icy wind that propped the structure long enough for the soldiers to pass and the civilians to get clear. The building crashed to the ground behind them.

  The ground was shaking now, so strongly Judith could see the waves in the earth. Fast on their feet and agile despite the heavy plated armor they wore, the small unit of warriors spun and dodged, hurdling the obstructions in their path. Judith had to admit she was impressed. If she were forced to run instead of fly, she would surely end up on her hands and knees from the force of the earth’s movement.

  Luckily, she had wings. Strong wings that would carry her through even the harshest gale. Or so she told herself.

  A city block from the wall, the first of Maethor’s soldiers was found. Struggling to stand upright and maintain his post, he almost didn’t see Aegasson until the rebel was upon him. The soldier managed to shout a warning before Aegasson’s blade found a gap between helmet and chest plate. A single stroke and the man was choking o
n his own blood.

  Judith grimaced, shying away from the evidence of the destruction her choices had wrought.

  This was war. The wicked soul occupying Maethor’s body to blame. He had chosen this path, not her, not the soldiers at her side. They only fought for what they believed in, for the safety and security of their realm.

  An archer took aim at Aegasson. On instinct, Judith dove, knocking the bow away. The archer shouted and tumbled to the ground, shock written on his face.

  They all had forgotten to look up.

  Judith slid to a stop on the ground, her wings lifted above her back. When the man moved to rise, she swatted him back with her wing. Grabbing his bow, she broke the weapon in half, tossing it aside.

  “Go,” she said. “Take your family and run. This won’t end well.”

  The man nodded, scrabbling backward on his hands like a crab.

  The shaking grew stronger. Men and woman of the guard came running from all directions. Judith could hardly keep her feet. She jumped, her wings thrusting through the air with great downbeats.

  Aegasson and his team struggled against the crowd, letting those who made no move to attack pass, and quickly dispatching the few who would have fought. They were looking for one man. One man alone.

  But where had Maethor gone?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  “THERE,” RIE SHOUTED as her khukuri slid up and between the plates on a soldier’s chest armor. She spun to the side, pulling the knife free as she spotted the general beneath her opponent’s armpit.

  The soldier she fought gasped but didn’t stop. His sword came around in an uncontrolled swing aimed at Rie’s shoulder, but she easily ducked out of the way. A quick left-right low-high slice from her knives, and a kick to his backside sent the man tumbling into the blood-stained snow. He didn’t get up.

  General Maethor had moved away from the wall, keeping a distance from the sinkhole that had dropped the steel into the ground. He’d positioned himself with his back to a single-story stone building rimed with icicles and frost, but otherwise without the decoration of the central ice sculptures the frost sidhe preferred.