Chapter 8 #3
"Since he cast me out, it's gotten worse, or stronger, I don’t know…" She closed her eyes, temple still throbbing dully, and pressed her bound hands against her chest where the warmth pulsed. "It feels like something else is acting through me, protecting me whether I want it or not."
"Has it always responded to—"
The air around them grew unexpectedly warmer.
"You."
The word came from above them, dripping with fury that made the air itself feel sharp. Karse dropped from the canopy, landing in a crouch that cracked the earth beneath him. He rose slowly, and Briar's breath caught.
His human form was slipping. Scales covered most of his visible skin now, black and green and gold shifting with each movement.
His eyes had gone completely reptilian, the pupils contracted to slits despite the forest shade.
When he smiled, his teeth were far too sharp and numerous for any human mouth.
"You took her. Again." Each word came out with visible heat, the air shimmering around him. "I'm getting very tired of people taking what's mine."
Thaine glanced at Briar with exasperation clear in his expression. "Next time you find something dangerous trapped and dying, perhaps consider that it was trapped for a reason before you decide to set it free?"
"She's not yours," Thaine continued, hand already on his blade. "She belongs to the Forest Court."
"She belongs to me." Karse's fingers lengthened, scales spreading down to form claws. "I claimed her. She accepted the claim when she—"
"Don't," Briar said sharply, heat flooding her face.
Karse's attention shifted to her, taking in the vine cage, the bound wrists, the cloak covering her nightgown. His expression darkened further, if that was possible.
"He caged you." Not a question. The temperature rose another degree with each word. "After I specifically said no one touches what's mine."
"This doesn't concern you, Drak," Thaine said. "Walk away while you can."
Karse laughed, the sound more growl than mirth. "Walk away? I'm going to burn you down to bone, use the ash to make glass, then shatter it into pieces so small even the wind won't remember you existed."
White-blue flame erupted from both his hands. Thaine dove aside as fire engulfed where he'd been standing, leaves igniting instantly. The heat washed over Briar's cage, and she felt the vines begin to smoke.
"Stop!" She pulled against her bonds, the rope burning her wrists. "Karse, stop! You're going to—"
Thaine's blade sang as he drew it, the steel gleaming with an edge that looked wrong, too sharp for normal metal. He rolled to his feet and struck in one motion, but Karse moved like water, scales deflecting the blade with a sound like striking stone.
"Is that all?" Karse grabbed the blade bare-handed, scales protecting his palm. "The famous huntsman of the Forest Court, reduced to waving sharp metal?"
Thaine smiled grimly and whistled—three short notes.
The forest responded. Roots erupted from the earth, wrapping around Karse's legs, his arms, trying to bind him. For a moment they held, then burst into flame so hot they turned to ash instantly.
"Predictable," Karse said, advancing on Thaine. "You fae and your nature magic. As if wood could hold fire."
The vines of Briar's cage were definitely burning now, smoke rising thick and choking. She kicked at the weakening bars, ignoring how they scraped her legs. One gave way, then another. She tumbled out, still bound at the wrists, coughing from the smoke.
Neither man noticed her escape. They were fully engaged now, Thaine's blade dancing through patterns that should have filleted anyone normal, Karse moving through the attacks like they were choreographed, leaving burning footprints with each step.
"Stop!" Briar shouted again, struggling to her feet. "Both of you, just—"
Movement in her peripheral vision made her freeze.
High in the trees, pale shapes perched on branches.
At first she thought they were enormous birds, white-feathered and still.
Then one tilted its head, and she saw the almost-human face beneath wild white hair.
Their wings flexed, not feathered but membranous, like a bat's but white as fresh snow.
Their bodies were wrong, elongated and too thin, wrapped in tight clothing or perhaps just their own pale skin.
More appeared, silent as snowfall, surrounding the burning clearing where Thaine and Karse fought.
"In the sky!" she called. "There's something—"
One of the creatures dropped.
It plummeted straight down, talons extended, moving faster than gravity alone could account for. Briar threw herself sideways, her bound hands making the movement clumsy. Talons raked the ground where she'd been, leaving gouges in the earth.
The creature's face turned to her, beautiful in the way winter was beautiful—stark and deadly. Its mouth opened, revealing rows of needle teeth.
"Warm one," it said, voice like wind through ice. "Lord waits. Lord wants."
Another dropped behind her. "Bring the warm one."
"Not yours!" A third landed between her and where Thaine and Karse had finally noticed the new threat. This one was larger, its wings spanning fifteen feet. "Mountain claims. Mountain takes."
Karse's fire roared toward it, but the creature launched itself upward, the flames passing beneath. Two more dove at him from different angles, forcing him to defend rather than attack.
Thaine's blade sang as he struck at another, but they moved like wind itself—there one moment, gone the next. "Harpies," he snarled. "Mountain Court creatures. Malachar's pets."
Malachar.
Every muscle locked with remembered terror.
The way his hand had felt on her throat, the cold touch of his ice as it bled across her skin while he'd discussed what he planned to do to her.
She could still smell his breath, feel the bruises he'd left, hear his promise that he'd finish what he'd started.
And now his creatures were here. For her.
"Pets?" The large one laughed, the sound like breaking icicles. "Allies. Hunters. Take warm one to ice lord. He waits. He promises feast."
Her legs wouldn't work properly, terror making her clumsy. She tried to run but tangled in the remnants of burned vines, going down hard. Her palms scraped against earth that had gone cold—too cold for the forest, as if winter itself was reaching for her through Malachar's creatures.
Talons seized her shoulders.
Not the large one but a smaller harpy that had circled behind while the others fought.
Its grip pierced through the cloak and nightgown, sharp points finding flesh.
She screamed as it lifted, her weight tearing the wounds wider.
Not just from pain but from the knowledge of where they were taking her.
To him. To whatever revenge he'd planned while nursing his ruined eye.
Thaine's vines shot toward her, but the harpy carrying her twisted, using Briar's body as a shield. The vines recoiled rather than risk hitting her.
The smaller harpy struggled with her weight, wings beating frantically. They rose slowly, too slowly. Briar twisted despite the agony in her shoulders, trying to break free.
The harpy shrieked and released her.
She fell ten feet, hitting the ground hard enough to drive all breath from her lungs. Through tears of pain, she saw Frederick clinging to the harpy's face, his water form forcing itself into the creature's nose and mouth.
"Brave sprite," the large harpy said, almost approving. Then its talons found Briar's shoulders—deeper than the first, meant to hold. "But small. Not enough."
This time the ascent was swift and sure. She caught glimpses of the battle below. Karse was wreathed in flame, multiple harpies keeping him earthbound despite their burns and Thaine was entangled in a fighting retreat, his blade barely keeping them at bay.
The forest canopy rushed past, branches whipping at her legs. More harpies joined them in the air, surrounding her bearer, their broken speech a chorus.
"Ice lord waits."
"Warm one comes."
"Mountain claims."
"Feast promised."
The forest fell away beneath them as they flew north. The temperature plummeted with each wingbeat, her thin nightgown useless against the cold. Blood ran warm down her back where the talons gripped, the only heat she could feel.
Through blurring vision, she saw Frederick's tiny bubble struggling to keep pace, jumping from cloud to cloud with desperate determination.
The mountains rose before them, white-capped and forbidding. At their highest peak, a tower of ice caught the setting sun, and even from this distance, she could see a figure on its balcony.
Malachar.