24. Chapter Twenty-Three #3
How two fighters still had the capacity to insult each other while fighting baffled me, but the sight that welcomed me when I crested the hill shook my disbelief even harder.
The chieftain in question was sprawled to my right, but not wholly there.
His head, still bearing the pelt of some kind of beast — a trebegnon, the small human part of my brain helpfully provided — seemed to have rolled back down the hill from where the rest of his body fell, and a dismembered arm holding a club fell next to the rest of him.
From where it had been cut at the forearm, it was almost like he'd raised it to block, and had it along with his head cut cleanly off.
For someone to have that kind of strength…
I shuddered at the thought of what I'd be up against, even in my own bestial form.
Another angry scream had my head snapping back to the active fighting a few paces away from the chieftain's corpse.
The blonde woman, who I expected to be Gennel, was wholly different aside from the height I knew her at as a man.
She looked nothing like the Gennel Rhen I met, with a rounded face and full cheeks beneath wild, dark blue eyes.
One hand was heavily wrapped in bandages, but the other gripped a short sword like she was very familiar with how to use it.
A look of pure hatred pulled thin lips into a snarl as a stark contrast to the rest of her innocent-looking face.
The ferocity with which she swung the sword with just one hand was impressive, but not nearly as graceful or efficient as the dual blades the other woman wielded.
Morrette… this was the Julran Princept, in the flesh.
If I hadn’t confirmed her identity from the portraits copied into "The Tragic History of Julra" tome, I would have assumed Gennel was completely out of her mind with rage calling her that name.
However, those drawings did nothing to convey the angular features she truly held, nor the expressiveness of her face as she bared her teeth in a feral interpretation of a smile.
The burn of bloodlust even carried onto her scent, one that would burn in my nose long after this battle was over.
My hulking form finally caught Gennel's eye, and she laughed bitterly. “What, you brought your hounds along too? The great Princept Morrette, still letting other people fight your battles!”
A pained shriek came from her lips on the tail end of the last insult as Morrette lunged forward and slashed across an unguarded thigh.
It was clear she was playing with her food.
“Better focus on me, Gennel,” Morrette taunted, circling her like a prowling trebegnon.
Even the stained blue fabric fluttering from her arms and torso gave the appearance of the same black-blue fur.
Her voice was a low, husky sound harshened by overuse.
“I’d hate to kill you on a stupid mistake, like losing your focus. Again.”
"Gods forbid you fight fair!" Gennel snarked.
"I wouldn't expect any less from the last member of a family of thieves.
How dare you stand there and play like you're faultless!
" Her voice grew louder and more shrill, spittle flying from her lips as her face morphed to a mask of unrelenting madness.
Her feet kept the same circular dance, stepping with Morrette to stay out of reach.
"Your family took everything from mine! They knew Golath would starve itself to death, landlocked as it was and without its strongest practitioners!
It was the greed of your ancestors that caused the Frigid War!
All of Julra was built on pillars of lies, spewed from the mouths of Hilj rulers, and the gods strike me down if I let you—"
"Are you almost done?"
The cool, indifferent question rocked Gennel back on her heels. Frankly, I was a bit surprised by the level response, considering all the accusations and insults being flung at her. It was like watching a child arguing with an adult, seeing Gennel all out of sorts as she stood off against Morrette.
She continued, unbothered. "I was joking about your villainous monologue before, girl," she spat the word, clearly meant as an insult.
"All I hear is the whining of a long-lost daughter of corrupted rulers who finally got their just punishment.
What the fuck do you know of what happened a hundred years ago, much less three hundred?
You consider yourself a champion of the Werren name?
" Morrette snorted harshly and tossed her head.
"They were a murderous, backstabbing family of liars and manipulators who tried to trap strong families like the Hiljs with wretched curses and forbidden rituals!
So spare me the 'woe is me, your family stole from mine' shit, when all you have to go on are some old fucking diaries from delusional, twisted people. You fight for nothing !"
A wordless scream ripped from Gennel, and she lunged to swing her sword with the only good arm.
Even then it was a powerful blow. Morrette had blocked it with both of her swords, and her jaw clenched with the effort to push her off.
She shifted her stance just enough to be able to throw a brutal kick at Gennel's knee and bring her to the ground.
I thought she would end it there, raising both swords across her shoulder to deliver a strong blow across Gennel's throat, when icy spears suddenly shot from the snow all around where Morrette stood.
Bright red blood scattered across the ground.
Morrette had just barely managed to dance out of the deadly spikes without being mortally impaled.
It had all happened in a handful of breaths, before I could even get my body to move to her aid.
I stepped forward, intent on helping Morrette or doing anything beyond being a dumbfounded witness, when her left arm snapped up to point her sword at me.
Her eyes never left Gennel as the woman struggled to her feet, clearly winded.
“You stay right there, Irin. I don’t need you in the way. ”
How did Morrette know my name?
Gennel, however, seemed to be an opportunist. On her next sidestep, she spun on a heel and quickly lunged toward me, her sword flashing in the air on a powerful thrust aimed straight for my gut.
The distance between us was too far of a stretch to make contact, but she took advantage of the momentum to drop in a sweeping kick that threw a spray of snow from the ground.
Quickly dropping her sword, her hand flew out with the palm facing me, and with a hiss of effort transferred the scattered snow to jagged icicles midair.
Those hit their mark, embedding in my stomach and chest and causing a howl of pain to rip from my lungs.
Fortunately Behar was too low to be hit, and he took advantage of the opening to latch onto her outstretched arm at the wrist and shake ferociously.
A sickening crunch followed by her angry shriek hinted at some broken bones beneath his teeth before she kicked him brutally in the chest. His yelp as he skidded across the ground to land on his side made me see red.
It all happened in the span of a few heartbeats.
From over Gennel’s crouched body, my eyes locked with Morrette, and the pure rage that mirrored mine could set me on fire.
It may have been equal parts seeing me and Behar injured that seemed to send her over the edge of reason.
Black hair not plastered to the sides of her face with blood began to lift and flutter in an unnatural wind.
With a smooth and practiced swing, she flung the gore from one blade and spun it to fall into the sheath on her back, and that free hand turned palm-up to collect swirling indigo magic.
Then Morrette began to walk with a slow, measured gait, and it was at that moment I realized we may all be fucked. It was like she hadn't just been stabbed with spears, like the pain didn't even register to her.
Gennel stumbled up, looking even worse for wear now with her one good arm now hanging loosely at the elbow by shredded muscle and skin.
With an enraged snarl, I violently backhanded her, my large hand slamming into the side of her head and shoulder with enough force to send her flying and tumbling across the ground.
Now that I knew she could weaponize the snow, I was much more cautious about keeping my distance.
I moved myself between her and Behar’s limp body.
His side was still rising and falling with fast breaths, but the urge to go check on him shook my focus on the real threat.
Something shuffled from behind Gennel, barely cresting the hill before they pounced on her hunched form.
It was a group of warriors, the very ones who were likely protecting Gennel and the chieftain now among the group of dead attacking her.
Their broken bodies covered her, weapons swinging and hitting whatever they could in the writhing pile, and I couldn’t take my eyes from the chaotic scene.
A warm hand pressed against my side close to one of the deeper ice shards, and I snapped my head down with a growl instinctively before realizing whose hand it was.
“Will you be able to heal this, Irin?” Even in that cold voice, there was obvious concern in Morrette’s question and probing fingers. The ice pieces were already slowly melting and working their way from my body as it healed at an accelerated speed.
“I’ll be fine,” I managed to speak around the mouth full of fangs. “What of her?” My head jerked to where Gennel continued to thrash and howl in rage, defenseless against the bodies of tribesmen who had just given their lives for her to pieces just as they had been by their brethren.
Morrette’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll take care of her. You head back to your men and recover.”
I wanted to ask if I’d see her after the battle died down, when a massive blast of magic slammed against us.
My bulky form managed to stay upright, but I had to quickly wrap an arm around Morrette’s waist to catch her from flying back onto her ass.
We both turned to find Gennel battered and bloodied body, barely standing amidst a swirling cyclone of water, and several revenants impaled on massive ice spikes jutting from the ground.
Anything that got even remotely close to her was viciously stabbed by shards of ice shooting from the wall of water she created around herself.
“This isn’t…” Her voice was weak, barely able to carry over the cacophony of the battle below and the howling wind of the cyclone. Gennel tried again to speak louder. “This isn’t over, Princept. I vow to avenge my family and revive Golath, and you will suffer greatly for your sins!”
In the next breath, the cyclone tightened to a single stream like a water spout rising from the ground, and it snaked from between the clamoring bodies of the dead and wound its way through the chaos of the battlefield until it was out of sight.
I lurched forward as if to follow, but Morrette held me back with a tight grip on my bicep.
“Don’t bother,” Morrette spat angrily. “She has likely already mimicked one of your soldiers.
It will be impossible to find her in all this.
" She waved toward the battlefield, the ground almost entirely covered in bodies.
"And she knows she lost. All of her tribesmen are dead. Gennel will hide and lick her wounds for a while before striking again.”
I looked out from our vantage above the shallow valley and realized Morrette was right.
No one alive held the weapons of the Hollows tribes or wore their furs.
The revenants didn’t seem to be engaging with my men, and likewise, the soldiers I brought left them alone, probably more out of fear than comradery.
The sheer amount of power it must have taken to raise and control an army like this… I couldn't even wrap my mind around it.
This was the army she needed in the Frigid War. She gave her people the victory they deserved.
Lost in the wonder of winning this unbelievable fight, I didn’t notice the absence of the purple glow that blanketed the area until Morrette stepped forward with a hand extended upward.
The tome —I had completely forgotten it was still floating above us—drifted down gently to land in her palm that snapped it shut with a dull thud, and she tucked it under her arm.
When the book closed, every resurrected body crumpled to the ground wherever they stood, filling the air with the loud, metallic clamoring of armor and weapons clanging together as they fell.
The noise was almost unbearable to my sensitive ears, and they tucked close to my head to block it out.
I hoped the dead of Julra could finally know peace after death.
But I had a horrible feeling Gennel would not slink away to nonexistence.
Knowing she was out there, already lurking among my troops, made my stomach twist unpleasantly.
Maybe Dayer could find a way to run her out before we marched back to Gilamorst. She had seemed extremely weak when she fled.
I doubted Gennel would be an immediate issue, with injuries like that.
That kind of thirst for revenge didn’t die with one battle.