Chapter 26 #2
Before she could respond—before she could even process the statement—he pointed ahead.
"We're here. The Silverwood should be just ahead." His voice had already shifted back to business, as if he hadn't just called her the only beautiful, non-deadly thing in his domain. "I can feel Malachar's magic like a festering wound."
She could feel it too, or rather, the warmth in her chest could. It recoiled from something in the air, something wrong and cold and foreign.
They rounded a massive oak that must have been growing since the world began, and there it was.
"Oh," Briar breathed.
The Silverwood River was magnificent. Even frozen, she could see its scope.
Twenty feet across at least, winding through ancient trees like a serpent of ice.
But this wasn't natural winter freeze. The ice was too blue, too perfect, with strange patterns etched across its surface that hurt to look at directly.
"Malachar's signature," Eliam said with disgust. "He couldn't resist showing off."
He dismounted in one fluid motion, then lifted her down. His hands lingered on her waist for a moment, and she felt him tense.
"What is it?"
"The magic. It's..." He frowned, scanning the frozen river. "Wrong. Even for Malachar."
"Wrong how?"
"Too much power. This should have exhausted him, especially after losing an eye. Unless..."
The ice creaked, a sound like breaking bones.
"Stay back," he commanded, moving toward the river's edge. "And whatever happens, don't go near the ice."
"What are you going to do?"
"What I have to." He shed his cloak, and she saw darkness gather around his hands like living smoke. "Break his hold. Return the water to its course."
He knelt at the river's edge, pressing both palms to the frozen surface. The moment he made contact, the strange patterns flared brighter, and he hissed through his teeth.
"Eliam?"
"I'm fine. Just... fighting me more than expected." Dark veins spread from his hands across the ice, battling the blue patterns. "Typical Malachar. Even his parting gifts bite back."
She watched anxiously as he worked, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cold. The warmth in her chest pulsed with each surge of his power, reaching toward him.
Then she saw it.
A figure in the ice. No, made of ice. Rising from the frozen river behind him, formed from Malachar's magic. A trap within a trap.
"Eliam!" She didn't think, just moved.
Her body slammed into his, knocking him sideways just as ice spears erupted from where he'd been kneeling. He hit the bank hard, her on top of him, both of them rolling away from the deadly frozen projectiles.
"What—" he started.
The ice figure was fully formed now, a perfect replica of Malachar himself, smiling that cold smile. It raised one hand, and more spears formed.
Eliam shoved her behind him, thorned vines erupting from the earth to meet the spear, tangling around it before snapping it into pieces.
"Stay back," he commanded, already moving to engage.
She scrambled to her feet, backing away from the immediate combat as Eliam and ice-Malachar clashed.
Ice blades met thornwood spears with sounds like breaking glass.
Every strike from ice-Malachar sent shards flying forcing her to duck as one whistled past her ear, embedding in the ground behind her with a crystalline chime.
The ground split as massive roots burst forth at Eliam's command, but ice-Malachar froze them solid mid-strike, shattering them with contemptuous ease. More ice shards scattered from the impact, several landing around her feet.
"Is that all the Forest King can muster?" ice-Malachar taunted, sending another barrage of frozen projectiles that Eliam deflected with a wall of thorns. The deflected ice scattered wider, more shards embedding in the earth around Briar.
She was so focused on the fight she didn't notice the pattern forming, how each "missed" attack placed another point in an elaborate design. Didn't see the small shapes emerging from hairline cracks in the river ice, no bigger than her palm, creeping up the bank like frozen spiders.
Eliam snarled, and the very trees responded.
Ancient oaks bent their branches, trying to crush ice-Malachar between them, but the construct danced away, laughing.
Its counter-attack sent a shower of ice daggers in all directions.
Briar threw her arms up, but the shards that came near her embedded harmlessly in the ground.
"Such fury!" ice-Malachar laughed, creating walls of ice that blocked every root, every vine. "But you're not even seeing the real artistry here."
More shards flew. The pattern was nearly complete now—a perfect crystalline snowflake radiating out from where Briar stood, each point precisely placed to mirror its twin etched in the river ice below.
She felt a strange tingling, like static before lightning, but her attention was riveted on Eliam as he gathered himself for what looked like a final assault.
The last shard landed with a soft chime, completing the pattern.
"Now," ice-Malachar said softly.
Eliam spun, their eyes meeting briefly before his gaze dropped to the ground at her feet.
She followed suit and saw that what had appeared to be small chunks of ice had suddenly sprung to life.
The sprites moved, ice spreading from them to freeze her boots to the ground for just an instant.
She looked looked back at Eliam in confusion—
The reflection magic activated.
It wasn't violent. It was almost gentle, like looking in a mirror and having your reflection reach out to pull you through.
The pattern around her resonated with its twin on the ice, and winter's law demanded symmetry.
As above, so below. She felt herself yanked backward as surely as if invisible hands had grabbed her.
The sprites shattered, their job done. Her feet came free but she was already moving, pulled by forces that had nothing to do with physical momentum. She tumbled onto the frozen river, landing exactly where the matching pattern was etched into the ice.
"Briar!" Eliam twisted to face her once more, already moving towards the river, his vines snaking behind him.
"Ah ah," ice-Malachar said, suddenly between them. Ice erupted from his palm in a crystalline spear that Eliam deflected with a wall of thorns. The impact sent frozen shards spinning past Briar's face, one catching her cheek with a sting of cold that burned.
Eliam's hand shot out, catching ice-Malachar's wrist before the next strike could land. Where they touched, steam hissed, and she saw frost spreading up Eliam's arm even as bark grew over ice-Malachar's skin. They grappled, each trying to force the other back, muscles straining.
The first crack shot through the ice beneath her. She felt it more than heard it—a vibration that ran up through her bones. The spreading fractures followed the snowflake pattern's lines with horrifying precision.
Her gaze jerked between the fragmenting ice and the battle.
Eliam had broken free, thorns erupting from the ground to cage ice-Malachar, but the creature simply walked through them, his form reconstituting from scattered frost. Each step ice-Malachar took left frozen footprints that sprouted ice formations.
"I designed this for you, Forest King," ice-Malachar's voice carried over the sound of clashing weapons.
Eliam had conjured a blade of thornwood that met ice-Malachar's frozen sword with explosive force.
Through her terror, she caught the way Eliam's muscles strained as he forced ice-Malachar back, step by step.
Ice shattered against thornwood, reformed, shattered again.
"But your little pet will do nicely. The river's hungry, and warm blood is so much sweeter than fae. "
The ice groaned and shifted. She tried to stay perfectly still, but she could feel it giving way, the cracks spreading outward from where she crouched.
Her hands splayed on the surface felt each new fracture form.
In her peripheral vision, she saw Eliam spin, driving his elbow into ice-Malachar's ribs, sending the creature stumbling toward the riverbank.
But already ice-Malachar was laughing, pulling moisture from the air to rebuild his damaged form.
"Don't move!" Eliam's command cut through her panic. Blood ran from a gash along his temple, freezing before it could reach his jaw.
"Movement, stillness—it hardly matters." Ice-Malachar sounded almost casual despite the violence. He caught Eliam's next strike barehanded, frost racing up the thornwood blade until it shattered. "The pattern knows its purpose. Watch how beautifully it breaks."
Her eyes dropped to the growing spiderweb of cracks beneath her palms. Dark water showed through the gaps, moving fast. The ice sagged, and her left foot suddenly punched through.
Freezing water flooded her boot, the shock of cold making her gasp. She tried to pull her foot free but that shifted her weight. Her right foot broke through. Now she was sinking, ice water climbing up her calves, numbing everything it touched.
"Eliam!" His name tore from her throat.
"Listen to that panic," ice-Malachar said with sick satisfaction. "Much more genuine than anything you'd have given me."
She couldn't see the fight now, she was too focused on keeping her upper body on ice that broke away in chunks under her hands. The current pulled at her legs with shocking strength, trying to drag her under. Each time she tried to haul herself up, the edges crumbled like sugar.
The cold was beyond description. It burned and numbed simultaneously, making her muscles seize.
Her clothes, heavy with water, dragged her down.
She could hear Eliam roaring, feel the ground shaking as trees responded to his fury, but it all seemed very far away compared to the immediate reality of drowning.