by Tara West
The disgust in Ryne’s eyes made Dianna feel lower than dirt.
“Do not dare blame Dianna for this!” Simeon leaned into Ryne, his words coming out on a hiss.
Tar whined, trying to nuzzle their legs in an effort to make peace between them.
Ryne backed up, still clutching the mast. “Shut up, Simeon.”
“No, you shut up!” Simeon jerked forward, rocking the boat again and causing a wave of swearing to erupt around them. “Those same Ice People sentenced your family to die.”
“Not all of them, just those few in power.” Ryne pounded his chest, his blue skin turning crimson, then purple. “It has been my life’s work to find safe haven for my people, and what have I to show for it?” He motioned to the boats behind them.
Simeon heaved a groan, turning his eyes skyward. “This isn’t about you, Ryne.”
Though Dianna could fight her own battles, she was relieved to have Simeon stand up for her. She’d been so overcome with guilt at failing to destroy her mother, at leaving the Ice People behind to perish, she couldn’t go up against Ryne. And even though she had failed, Simeon was right. This wasn’t about Ryne, yet the stubborn ice dweller made everything about him.
Ryne looked her over with a sneer. “Well, it’s clearly not about the Ice People, because they’re all dead, thanks to Dianna.”
At that moment, she felt Ryne’s hatred of her in the marrow of her bones, and instead of feeling shame or guilt, she was angry. Yes, he had a right to be upset, but his grudge was misplaced. She didn’t deserve such treatment.
When Simeon raised his fists, she intervened.
“No fighting!” She jumped to her feet, then fell against Simeon as the boat tipped. “You’ll capsize the boat and drown us all.”
She looked down at the sound of Tar’s pitiful whimper. “If you refuse to heed my advice, then heed the dog. He has more sense than both of you.”
Simeon wrapped a possessive arm around Dianna’s shoulder, helping her sit down. “When we get to shore, Ryne, your hide is mine.” His threat was like the ominous rumble of a snowbear seconds before attack.
Ryne tossed back his head, laughing. “I’m quivering with fear.”
Though Dianna secretly wouldn’t mind seeing Simeon smash Ryne’s face, all of this strife was not good for morale. The others on-board were getting anxious, nervously watching the two and murmuring to each other. She thought a peace offering was in order, something to pacify Ryne so they could finish their voyage without any added strife.
“What can I say, Ryne?” she said, her voice shaking with regret and sorrow. “I’m sorry your people are dead. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I will fight harder next time.”
Both of his pale brows rose. “Next time? She will use your brother as a barrier next time! Maybe she’s even poisoned his mind against us. Are you prepared to kill Markus, too?”
She felt like she’d buckle from the weight of his words. She couldn’t kill her brother. How could he even ask her such a question? A thought struck her. What if Madhea poisoned Markus against his loved ones, as she’d done with Rowlen? What if she was left with no choice but to fight her brother?
Simeon’s right, Dianna, Sindri said. You did your best.
“But my best wasn’t good enough,” she mumbled.
“Ignore him,” Simeon whispered. He cleared his throat. “You’re a heartless bastard, Ryne.”
The ice dweller snorted before turning away.
Dianna chanced a look at Ura, dismayed to see she was crying harder. Stupid Ryne! Didn’t he realize his callous words had hurt his sister, too? Or maybe he didn’t care.
She inwardly smiled when Tar barked at his master several times, sounding like a father scolding his wayward child.
“Quiet, mutt.” Ryne shook a finger at the dog. “Before you alert every gnull in this river we’re here.”
Simeon was right. Ryne was heartless. Unfortunately, he might also be correct in his prediction. If that cursed witch turned Markus’s heart against his family, her beloved brother might turn his bow on them, and his aim always struck true. Then what would she do? Kill her brother, as Alec had been forced to kill their father? The thought was too painful to consider.
Chapter Eighteen
Dianna had a restless night, trying to find comfort in Simeon’s arms. By the time dawn broke, her neck was sore and her bones ached. She’d drifted to sleep a few times, waking at the slightest sound. She’d jerked awake, screaming, when a fish flew into her lap, then bounced around on the floor of the boat until Ura and Ryne’s father, who’d introduced himself as Jon, smashed it with an oar.
“Soaring perch,” Jon said with a wink, bagging the fish. “We shall dine on him when we dock.”
Dianna failed to sleep after that, jumping every time another fish flew into their boat. Tar seemed to have fun with the fish, his tail madly wagging while he swatted them with his paws. Jon let the dog keep one, and he happily devoured it in a few swallows. More surprising than flying fish was that Simeon slept through the whole thing, his neck bent at an awkward angle as he rested against a sack of vegetables. By the time the morning sun’s rays peeked through their ice dome, they’d netted several dozen perch between the four boats.
Dianna was fatigued beyond comprehension but refused to feel sorry for herself, as Ryne hadn’t slept at all, choosing to keep watch. Though he was an angry boil on a boar’s butt, she did admire his dedication to his people, perhaps his only redeeming quality.
“Son,” Jon said as he stretched with a groan, “why don’t you get some rest?” He patted an empty spot beside him.
Ryne glanced at his father. “I can’t. This river is moving too swiftly. We’ll reach the gnulls soon.”
The ice dwellers in the other boats were worried, too. Men and women clutched spears and watched the water.
The riverbank in their narrow tunnel was widening, and she wasn’t sure, but she thought she felt pockets of warm air blasting her from somewhere downriver. Change was coming, of that she was certain. She just wasn’t sure she’d welcome the change.
She froze at the sound of Tar’s low growl.
A loud splash beside the boat made her look over the side. She nearly fainted from fright. A slick, splotchy brown beast swam alongside the boat, its massive body curving like a snake disappearing into a hole. She never saw its face, and she didn’t want to. Its low, dark sounds rattled the boat so hard, she feared it would capsize.
Ryne held a finger to his lips when the others nervously shifted in their seats. Surprisingly, nobody screamed, though their trembling limbs and wide eyes revealed their terror. Even Tar had gone quiet. There was another splash and a second monster swam on the other side of the boat, his slick body rubbing against the hull and tipping it to one side.
The ice dwellers remained silent. Mothers held their hands over their children’s mouths while others watched the water, their spears aimed at the beasts.
When Simeon shifted and stretched, his eyes opening, she held a finger to his lips and pointed. He peered over the side, his jaw dropping when he saw the slick beast.
Ryne pointed to something in the distance, then slid down the mast, clinging to his dog’s neck while the others on-board ducked their heads.
“Stay down. Their hearing is better than their eyesight,” Ryne whispered.
As if they wouldn’t see four ships sailing downriver, she thought.
Four ships made from gnull hide, Sindri answered. They might think the ships are gnulls, too.
The first thing she noticed was a pungent smell so strong and foul, she had to cover her nose and breathe through her mouth. The beasts bleated and grunted and made all kinds of low rumbles. When more splashes sounded around them, she worried her pounding heart would give them away. She looked at the other frightened people in the boat, their blue hues turning a sickly shade of white. Some were crying, some praying, though they all did so in silence. Simeon held tightly to her hand, perhaps her only source of comfort while her veins solidified w
ith fear.
The boat behind theirs was struck with such violence, a loud crack was followed by terrified screams shattering the frigid air.
Two men in Dianna’s boat shot upright and hurled spears into the water.
I may need your help, Dianna said to the stones as she sat up.
We know you will, Sindri answered.
The sight before her stole the breath from her lungs. Resting along the shore were at least fifty giant blubbery beasts, some the size of Lydra, with tusks as long as spears protruding from their mouths. Many of the monsters had heaved themselves to the riverbank, which was a mixture of ice and mud. They slid in with a massive splash, disappearing beneath the boats. Ryne had to pull back Tar, who nearly fell out of the boat as he scrambled up the side to bark at the beasts.
In the distance the icy tunnel ended, opening onto a vast, dark lake. If they could just propel past the nest of gnulls. The boats behind her seemed stable except for one, which had been pushed into a pocket of water beside shore. Ice dwellers frantically scooped buckets of water out of their hull, but it was sinking at an alarming rate. At least ten gnulls circled the boat, isolating them from the others. Though the ice dwellers threw spears at them, they were no match for the monsters’ numbers. Their only other option was to jump onshore, where dozens of gnulls lay in wait.
“Oarsmen!” Ryne hollered. “Back!”
She lurched when six men grabbed oars and rowed back to the disabled boat.
Dianna didn’t dare risk fighting the gnulls in the water and toppling the other boats, but she could clear a path to shore for an escape.
“Sindri,” she cried.
We’re here, Sindri answered.
Screaming mothers held crying children when the water-logged boat slowly began to tip.
No, no, no! She couldn’t let them become gnull bait.
“Tar!” Ryne cried, but it was too late.
The dog sprang from the boat, surprising everyone when he landed onshore and faced down the beasts. The monsters bleated, backing up as Tar advanced. The dog wouldn’t hold them off for long.
She stood, holding onto the mast beside Ryne.
“Do not sink us all,” he grumbled.
She ignored him, pushing all other thoughts out of her mind as she flung her soul to that space between two worlds, reeling in her magic like she was winding a rope, knowing she’d need far more strength than ever before if she was to knock back a nest of giant predators.
Hurry, Dianna, Neriphene cried.
She launched her magic, flinging it at the monsters onshore. “Get back!” she boomed, throwing her arms wide.
The beasts fell over with such violence, they shattered the wall of the ice tunnel behind them, their necks snapping from the blow. They landed on their sides, shards of ice pinning their blubbery flesh to the ground.
The gnulls in the water let out low, ominous wails as they popped their heads above the current and stared at the dead gnulls onshore. ’Twas then she noticed the gnulls in the water were considerably bigger.
Her hand flew to her throat. “I killed their babies.”
The ice dwellers scurried from their sinking boat onto the embankment, gawking at the bloodied monsters and then back at the voracious beasts that circled their boat. Just as the last ice dweller disembarked, the boat sank, devoured by several hungry gnulls like a pack of wild dogs on a deer carcass.
The three remaining boats helped the displaced ice dwellers on board, somehow making room where there was none. Tar was the last to jump on-board. Dianna sucked in a hiss when their boat sank lower in the water, the waves coming dangerously close to spilling over the sides.
They couldn’t afford to lose another boat, but she expected the beasts would retaliate for the deaths of their young.
Elements save them!
MADHEA HOVERED OVER the young hunter, poised to give him the potion the moment he awoke. She’d already healed his wounds, restoring the pink to his flesh and erasing the dark circles from under his eyes. She was pleased to see the blue tint to his skin had faded, and he resembled his father once more.
She traced the side of his square jaw, which was dotted with dark stubble. He looked less like the boy hunter she’d last seen and so much like Rowlen. She touched his broad chest, solid like Rowlen’s. He had no trace of his thin, sickly mother in him. No, this boy, this man, was exactly as his father had been, brave and strong, and very soon he’d be hers.
She clutched the potion like a lifeline, thanking the Elements she’d found the herbs she needed in her reserve stores. After using all she had to make the brew, she’d sent her pixies in search of more. Hopefully, they’d return soon, but she had enough potion to last several days. She’d made it twice as strong as the brews she’d given to her soldiers, for she didn’t simply want Markus to fall in love with her. She wanted him to fall madly in love with her, so much so that he’d never want to leave. If only she’d thought to use such a potion on Rowlen, he’d still be with her. But now was not a time for regrets. It was a time for celebration. In Markus she’d been given a second chance, and she was determined to make the most of it.
She jumped when he suddenly thrashed about the bed, his eyelids moving.
“Ura! Ura!” he cried.
Madhea’s temper soared. How did this Ura shrew have such a hold on him that he’d call her name in his sleep? ’Twas Madhea’s name he should’ve been uttering.
She fluttered over him, landing ungracefully on his chest and sloshing drops of precious liquid onto the bed when he swiped her elbow.
“Be still!” she shrieked. Then she held his mouth open, accidentally spilling the entire contents of the bottle down his throat while he struggled against her.
Curse the Elements! That potion was supposed to last several days!
She leaned over him, breathing against his mouth. “You don’t love Ura. You love Madhea.”
“Madhea?” He thrashed about, knocking her off him, tangling her in the furs.
“You love Madhea!”
He jerked up, glaring, his eyes still foggy from sleep. “Madhea? No.” He groaned. “She’s evil.”
Did Markus not recognize her after her transformation, or was he still half asleep?
“Not evil,” she rasped. “Misunderstood.”
She reached for the vial of sleeping potion beside the bed, then lurched forward, forcing him to drink. “Sleep, my darling,” she soothed. He fell on his side, slipping back into a dream state. “When you wake, you will be in love with Madhea.”
“Madhea?” he mumbled.
“Yes, Madhea,” she breathed into his ear, “your true love.”
“Madhea, my love,” he murmured.
A wide smile split Madhea’s face in two, and her heart soared. She flew out of his chamber in high spirits, her laughter echoing off the walls. Markus was hers.
THE OARSMEN PADDLED swiftly, though not fast enough. The gnulls swam alongside them, grunting and groaning while lifting their massive heads and spraying their boats with water. The beasts were toying with them, waiting for the right moment to sink every boat at once.
The walls of the tunnel were thinning, completely melted in some spots, warm pockets of air bursting through the holes. Ahead lay a smooth lake surrounded by pines. If only they could make it to the shore. Dianna stood a better chance fighting the gnulls with the ice dwellers out of the water.
“Hold on!” Ryne called when the water got rougher.
Her head felt full of rocks, rattling around when the boat bounced through the rapids toward the wide mouth of the lake. She shut her eyes after a final, sharp dip. The river spit them out with great force, and they careened across the water, ending up almost in the center of the lake.
She opened her eyes, pleased to see the other boats floating nearby. She looked back at the long tube that looked like the mountain’s icy lung. Behind the tube loomed Madhea’s mountain, its top obscured by a thick bank of clouds. Her stomach twisted in knots when she saw gnull after gnull
slide into the lake like slugs dripping out of a pail.
They were coming for the boats.
She had never used her magic underwater. How would she fight them?
“Row! Row!” Ryne hollered as the gnulls swam toward them.
The oarsmen rowed until their foreheads ran with sweat, yet it wasn’t fast enough. The gnull pod quickly closed the distance between them. The largest gnull had his big, dark gaze pinned on Dianna. He let out a primal roar that vibrated the floorboards of the boat.
Tar answered with several angry barks, but the dog was no match for the beasts.
The other passengers looked at Dianna. Were they apprehensive to have Madhea’s daughter in their company or waiting for her to help?
A familiar roar was heard in the distance. A giant shadow flew past, followed by another. It took her a moment to register what she was seeing.
When her fellow passengers screamed and gasped, Ryne held out a silencing hand. “Don’t fear, everyone. They are our friends. They obey Dianna.”
Dianna wasn’t so sure Tan’yi’na would appreciate being told to obey anyone, but she wasn’t about to argue.
She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Lydra! Tan’yi’na! We’re glad to see you.”
Lydra answered with another roar.
Tan’yi’na turned up his snout as he flew above her head. I didn’t think you’d miss us.
She gazed the proud golden dragon. Not fair. I’ve been worried something happened to you. As you can see, we’re about to be eaten. A little help would be appreciated.
Of course. We’re hungry anyway, and these creatures look filling. The dragon flew swiftly past her, rocking the boat and ruffling her hair with a warm wind. He swooped down like a hawk diving for fish, making such a splash, all three boats took on water.
“Row!” Ryne bellowed.
Tan’yi’na came up with a gnull almost his size in his talons. The beast cried and flopped, blood bubbling out of its mouth and punctured sides. Tan’yi’na tossed the creature in the air. It spiraled and dove toward the water, right through a burst of the golden dragon’s flame. It was cooked by the time it landed with a hard splash. Luckily, the boats were far enough away that the ripples only aided in pushing them along.
