by Hannah West
I nocked it, relishing the creak of the string and the magic pumping through my veins—my Marksman gift was more ready than I was.
I aimed at the road and waited for the front row of soldiers to struggle through the deep snow. An inconspicuous stake in the ground marked our attack zone.
I set my sights on one of the frontrunners, aiming for his heart. His arm had tired of holding the shield against the wind. It drooped, leaving his chest exposed.
As soon as my target passed the stake, I let fly. My arrow struck its mark.
Several other archers hit their targets, while others struck shields or snow. Chaos erupted in the enemy ranks. The outer ends of the first two rows began to collapse like metal folding as it melted, their cries of sudden anguish revealing their surprise.
To avoid trampling the victims, the rows behind them split and veered off the road. The traps waited for them beneath the cloak of snow.
I nocked another arrow while the second group of archers let fly. I set my sights on a mark and struck him in the neck. Killing meant silencing a small voice in my mind that said all war was evil, no matter the cause. But these weren’t helpless civilians or people who had been magically forced to do the Moth King’s bidding. They had chosen their fate.
If we didn’t defeat Ambrosine, the scourges of the Fallen would devastate this world until nothing remained but miserable souls.
Blood spattered over the pure, bright snow. As the bodies piled up at the front ranks and the hidden traps on their side of the road were revealed, the second group of enemy soldiers fanned out along the edges of the woods.
Glisette took one side of the road and Tilmorn the other, each sending spells that wiped out clusters of soldiers before they could even cross into the forest. I had used the thrusting spell to good effect already, but my uncertainty had given it only a tenth of the intensity that these two could muster. When they yelled “Nagak,” entire groups of armor-clad men soared for several yards and landed hard.
As our ambush split the front ranks like an axe splitting a log, the cavalry pushed to the fore. With Glisette and Tilmorn protecting us from the wave of oncoming soldiers, I had the perfect chance to reach a better vantage point for the next phase: targeting the mounted warriors.
I retied my rope and shimmied down, leaping into the snow and sinking deep. The shots from the trees were thinning out, clearing a way for me to duck and run to the pile of bodies without fearing friendly fire. I collected stray arrows from the snow on my way.
Approaching the heap of bodies in chain mail, I dropped to one knee and slid my bow off to load an arrow.
The cavalry tried to break through the ranks of struggling foot soldiers, many of whom were fleeing back toward the city. I couldn’t blame them; Glisette and Tilmorn made a fearful sight, their elicrin stones as bright as stars behind the gray curtain of misty rain, their spells discarding enemies like pieces on a game board.
I blinked the rain from my eyes and stretched my bowstring, aiming for the frontrunner of the cavalry, who steered his horse around the disorganized groups of foot soldiers. The commander had explained that the army’s chain mail could be penetrated with enough force and precision.
My elicrin gift wrapped around my ligaments and muscles like warm fibers. I closed my eyes to release the arrow, trusting my magic to take over.
When I opened my eyes, the leader of the cavalry toppled off his horse in a spray of blood. My shot had struck true.
But before I managed to secure another arrow, a hard force hit my side and flattened me on the ground.
It was an enemy warrior. An arrow protruded from his left shoulder, but his right fist wound back to strike me in the face.
“Sokek sinna,” I rasped, erecting the glimmering shield just in time for him to break his hand on its solid surface. He shouted and clambered off of me. I let down my shield and leapt to my feet, but he had already grabbed a nearby sword and slashed at my thigh, splitting the skin. I yelped and clamped down on the wound, nearly losing my wits before I used the slashing spell to tear the flesh across his throat. He gurgled for breath and collapsed.
I limped to retrieve my bow and arrow, looking for something to bind up the gaping wound. But I needed to slow down this cavalry before it was too late. Screaming through my teeth, I dropped to my knees to take cover again, my hands shaking as I nocked another arrow.
Someone gripped my shoulder, and in the dizzying clamor and confusion, I saw Mercer leaning over me, rain dripping from his face and hair. His bone-white eye served as a devastating reminder that even triumph didn’t prevent us from carrying battle scars for the rest of our lives, both outside and in.
Mercer tore a piece of his black tunic and said, “Just until Tilmorn can get to you.”
I nodded and accepted the strip of wool, knotting it tight around the open cut. Mercer sprinted to join Tilmorn at the front lines.
When I looked up, the other elicromancers had wiped out half of the foot soldiers and the cavalry was charging. Pain somehow sharpened my focus, and I took out one mounted fighter after another, my aim consistently truer than any mortal’s could have been—although I would have done a fine job as a mortal. Sev joined me behind the barricade of bodies, his wet face and hands streaked with blood. He abandoned the crossbow for a longbow and took several shots that synchronized with mine and struck accurately most of the time, although he did hit horse instead of rider twice.
Finally, Ambrosine’s army broke up enough to allow hope that this battle might end soon, at least as far as mortals were concerned. These soldiers didn’t stand a chance. Glisette could probably drive most of the remaining men away with another torrential snowstorm.
But there was Ambrosine to contend with, and maybe even Mathis. I knew which side had better odds; five elicromancers versus two was almost a sure bet for us, especially considering Mathis’s and Ambrosine’s elicromancy restrictions. But with Nexantius involved, it was more complicated. I had no idea what would happen next.
As the army thinned out, I glimpsed Ambrosine at the rear of the procession. She rode a black warhorse and wore scant metal armor that revealed too much of her ivory flesh to offer any protection. Glorious blond braids whipped behind her, wet from the snowstorm, and even from afar I caught flashes of silver in her eyes.
She drew closer, and those flashes became swirling streaks, spilling over every bit of exposed flesh to coat her contours in intricate designs of reflective metal.
A carriage with iron bars and wooden slats rolled alongside her, pulled by two black horses with wild, frightened eyes, steered by an even more frightened soldier.
Was this some kind of beast Ambrosine planned to unleash? A prisoner she would use to manipulate us? Land of light—what if she had somehow caught and trapped Navara?
Ambrosine signaled two fingers at the driver. He dismounted from the carriage seat and unlocked the peg latch of the iron cage.
The door swung open.
FORTY
GLISETTE
THE creature that crawled out of the shadows of the cage was far more frightening than the edifice murals could ever convey.
Its flesh looked like what should lie underneath flesh—red, raw, sinewy, stripped down. Short, sharp teeth lined an unnaturally wide mouth and longer, tusklike teeth jutted from its skull and knotty knuckles.
Somehow both gaunt and muscular, the monster crept out of the cage on four limbs…and lunged to devour the man who had set it free.
I shut my eyes to the horrible sight, but I couldn’t shut out the screams.
Robivoros.
When I opened them, the beast had consumed its fill, leaving nothing but picked bones. It stood on its hind legs, revealing an open maw in the middle of its belly, lined with two rows of needle-sharp teeth.
There was only one person Ambrosine could have convinced to become a vessel for this being, just by flaunting the promise of power. The vague similarities—the height, the stride, the stray fair hairs clinging to the red scalp�
�proved that this was, or used to be, Uncle Mathis.
My stomach heaved and I bent double, but I managed to swallow back the sickness. I had no choice.
Ambrosine had set her sights on me.
She dismounted, trudging through the snow, trampling over the bodies of her fallen soldiers.
Mercer and Tilmorn charged to fight Mathis while Kadri took several clean shots at him, lodging arrows in his chest and even one in his forehead to no avail.
Devorian drew even with me, his magenta elicrin stone glowing, ready to unleash an arsenal of spells on Ambrosine.
“Her armor can deflect spells,” I told him.
“Lovely,” he muttered. “Our odds are excellent. Think we can appeal to her sense of familial affection?”
“I’d say it’s a bit late for that. I’m going to try something. If it doesn’t work, we’re only stalling the inevitable.”
“I like your optimism. If you survive and I don’t, do you promise to take care of Larabelle?”
“Better than you ever could.” I managed to smile at him. “If you survive and I don’t, will you care for Sev’s family?”
“They’ll be drowning in wealth. Suffocating.”
“Let’s see if this works.”
I stretched out my arms, inhaled a sense of calm, and summoned my elicrin power.
The rain fell in a continuous mist, but my wind made the drops change directions and swirl into a funnel. The temperature plummeted and I drove the freezing water at Ambrosine, encasing her in a column of ice as high and thick as a tower.
But after a few beats of quiet, her silver-plated fists broke through the ice, shattering it as I had shattered her mirrors.
This would be the end. Kadri’s gift and mine were the only ones suited for the battlefield. If Ambrosine could deflect every spell, then Devorian, Mercer, and Tilmorn couldn’t do much. Even Kadri and I would only be able to slow Ambrosine and Mathis down.
As Ambrosine gained ground, I readied the shielding spell on my tongue. But Devorian panicked and uttered the thrusting spell first in an effort to keep her at bay. She raised an arm to deflect it and it rebounded, striking me hard in the chest.
I flew back and crashed through the snow, landing hard. The brutal fall beat the breath out of my lungs. I was fortunate that I hadn’t smacked into a tree or an armored corpse, but the pain was agonizing.
I told Devorian it wouldn’t work.
With a groan, I coaxed myself up and found Devorian erecting a shield. But Ambrosine, swiftly approaching, bared her teeth and punched the barrier. Instead of breaking her hand, as it would anyone else’s, the barrier became flexible, bending with her force. She struck Devorian hard across the jaw and he collapsed where he stood, knocked unconscious, maybe even…
No.
The rage I felt nested so deep in my soul that my entire body shook with the need to destroy her.
“Pull back!” I heard the commander call to whoever was still fighting in the woods.
Now it was only us—the elicromancers who had allowed this to happen. The elicromancers who had to finish this or die trying.
Accepting my fate, I let anger conquer logic and strategy. Logic and strategy would do nothing for me anymore.
I drew my sword and charged at Ambrosine.
Roaring, I swung my blade down on her shoulder. It broke to shards. My arm bounced back and our bodies collided with bruising force. The momentum was on her side, and we tumbled down together.
My head careened, and stars twinkled in my vision. Before I could blink them away, Ambrosine smacked me across the face, the armor coating her hand more rigid than a gauntlet. Warm blood filled my mouth and nose. But I realized I was still gripping the hilt—all that remained of my broken sword—and slammed it into her jaw.
The sound was of metal hitting metal. She didn’t even flinch.
“You aligned yourself with the wrong people,” she said, pinning both of my wrists to the ground with her iron grip. “Family used to come first, but you changed.”
“You changed,” I barked through the blood pooling in my mouth. I could feel that my nose had been jammed off-center, the bone and cartilage crooked. I squirmed beneath Ambrosine. Her knees locked around my hips like a vise, trapping me in place. I tried to materialize, but her armor gave her the power to anchor me there. My shoulders strained at their sockets and I halted the attempt before it ripped me limb from limb.
One more blow to the head and I would likely cross that veil of death, forsaking this world to the hands of the Fallen.
But not without a better fight than this.
My power answered my summons, and the falling raindrops flocked together and froze into icicles with points as sharp as knives. I flicked my finger and drove them down her spine, but they shattered on her armor just like the sword.
The thunder of a cavalry approaching from the woods made her loosen her grip on one of my wrists so she could look at the road. Our reinforcements had arrived.
I used the distraction to try the most desperate thing I could think of—attacking her vanity. I gripped a generous handful of her fair hair and yanked as hard as I could, ripping a whole patch out by the roots.
When she squealed, she sounded exactly like the Ambrosine I knew, the Ambrosine who could be more easily manipulated by threats to her beauty than threats to her life.
The diversion allowed me to kick her away and stagger to my feet. I had to warn our reinforcements to turn back, to take up shelter in the armory. I had to tell Sev and every other ambusher left alive to go with them, to keep resisting, to try to find another way to banish the Fallen.
I materialized to the tree line and stumbled into the shadows. So many bodies sprawled over the battleground, and I was afraid to see a familiar face among them. Most of the ambushers had retreated and scattered to hide in the forest. Had Sev left too?
Setting my back to a tree, I peered at the road and saw that Navara was leading the reinforcements. I spat a curse. She was supposed to have doubled back and returned to the safety of the armory. Why hadn’t she? She wasn’t ready for this.
“Glisette!” I turned to see Sev kicking through the snow toward me. Watered-down blood stained his face and neck, but he didn’t seem to be wounded, at least not gravely so. My heart leapt with joy at seeing him alive, but fear gripped me anew. He needed to go back with the other mortals.
When he reached me, he cupped my jaw and winced at my face.
“That bad?” I asked.
“You can’t outlast her,” he said. “We have to retreat and regroup.”
“I have to stall them while you get Navara and the others to safety.”
“I’m not going to—”
“Go!” I splayed a hand on his chest and pushed, but he didn’t budge. “Go, or it will be too late for everyone. They need you, Sev.”
He shook his head, but I could see my words wearing down his obstinacy. We both knew there were things far more important than the way we felt about each other.
With a sigh of surrender, he gently kissed my bruised, bloodied lips and ran off to intercept Navara and the reinforcements.
Buttressing my resolve, I turned and saw traces of a glimmering magical shield through the trees. I materialized back onto the open field and found Devorian, Kadri, Mercer, and Tilmorn combining their elicrin shields to protect the mortals in retreat.
It wasn’t a strategy for victory. None of us had a plan other than to try to mitigate the damage. This was a losing battle, and it would be over soon.
I hurried to join their ranks, coaxing the shield from my elicrin stone with a whisper. It expanded like a beautiful starflower in bloom and reached out to meld with Devorian’s.
His face looked worse than mine felt, but through his swollen, broken skin, I could read the meaningful look he turned my way: this was the end, and if we had to die, at least we would die fighting together.
I looked over my shoulder to see the ranks of reinforcements riding away. From behind the heaps of
carnage on the road, Navara met my eyes before she guided her courser around, the last one to retreat.
Ambrosine glared, singling me out to face her wrath first. Mathis prowled at the other end of the chain, blood slinging from his sharp teeth as he crept on all fours toward Tilmorn, a predator ready to lunge at his prey. Kadri’s arrows studded his flesh, but they didn’t seem to be doing much to slow him down.
“Go get the girl like I told you!” Ambrosine shouted at him. Though she hadn’t recognized signs of our ambush, she saw this shield for what it was: a stalling tactic. Mathis growled at Tilmorn but tore off down the tree line to skirt around the shields, moving faster than a rabid wolf. Tilmorn and Mercer materialized away to give chase.
Not Navara. Not those innocent people.
It was I who was most responsible for offering Ambrosine lenience, for letting her wed a king instead of sending her to wallow in a prison cell.
Ambrosine charged at my shield. I separated mine from the others’ and made the cold wind howl until the rain began to freeze in sheets around Kadri and Devorian. The dense silver-blue ice rose up like a blockade, gleaming in the low light, shutting out the sound of their protests. I knew they didn’t want my protection, but they were going to get it.
Ambrosine’s armored fists collided with my shield. I reinforced the spell, calling every ounce of magic in my blood to the fore to resist. It held, bending only a little, but the sheer strength of Ambrosine’s newfound powers drove my heels through the snow like a plow until we had returned to the shadows of the winter forest.
Both of us cried out with the effort. I couldn’t hold her for long. When she reeled back a fist and slammed it into the shield, this time it broke through and rammed into my chest.
The blow struck me like a runaway carriage. I hit the trunk of a tree, collapsing onto the cold, soft ground.
A metal shield left by one of the enemy soldiers lay half buried in snow nearby. The steel reflected a warped, blurred view of my face, unrecognizable from abuse.
It also reflected movements behind me, and I heard the grunts of a struggle. I turned to find Commander Larsio attempting to help a gravely wounded mortal soldier retreat.
