Chapter 32 #2
Now the cragstalkers are free, we sidle close to one another, a tangle of elbows and shoulders as we huddle, back-to-back, forming a tight circle. I’m glad of the press of the others’ bodies, glad too of the cats slinking in slow orbit around us, Briar along with them.
‘Draw your weapons,’ Blayze whispers.
We brandish our motley collection of stolen daggers, blades and maces. Tansy carries our lone bow. I reach beneath my cloak to draw the Crescent Sword at my side, pressing the ridges of its hilt against my tightly curled palm, now slick with sweat.
There’s a yowl, a whine, a scuffling, a thud. Blood soils the front paw of one of the patrolling cats. It paints the ice crimson as it limps its circuit around us. One of the frostfangs lies motionless.
Blayze, mace raised high, jostles position, moving from Maris’ side to Leilani’s, narrowly missing impaling himself on the edge of my sword as he wedges himself there.
Before I have a chance to object, he pushes Leilani behind us, thrusting her to the centre of the protective ring we now form around her.
‘What are you doing?’ She elbows Blayze’s shoulder, tries to barge her way free.
‘You’re supposed to save us all, Sparkles. So, you’re the one who needs protecting,’ Blayze says. He’s acted well. I should have thought of it first.
She grapples against him. ‘But—’
‘But nothing,’ I hiss. ‘He’s right. Stay there.’
She claws at my arm. ‘I will n—’
A cascade of velvety notes swallows the rest of her protest. Maris and Delphine stand, weapons raised, free hands entwined, as silky strains of spritesong stream from Delphine’s lips and lilt over the ice.
The cragstalkers maintain their slinking orbit, crouched low to the ice, ready to pounce.
The howl and whine of the wolves, the snap of their jaws as they lunge for the cats, continue unchecked.
Both packs seem impervious to the melody, but my limbs and eyelids grow torpid.
It’s hard to focus, hard to make sense of what’s going on.
I only snatch glimpses of the frostfangs through the circling pack and driving snow.
The cragstalker with the injured paw stumbles, breaking formation.
It’s the opening the wolves have been waiting for.
Two blurred streaks of grey tear forwards, launching themselves at the cat.
It’s the smallest one – the one that carried Tansy and Delphine from Talini.
I tighten my grip on my sword, crouch lower to the ice, ready to attack.
Another yowl. Claws bat the grey smudges away.
More blood spatters the ice. Thud. Thud.
Two frostfangs flung to the ground. Their necks break with hollow snaps.
A deeper yowl. A heavier thud. A breach in the circle, as the cragstalker collapses.
Cracks splinter the ice. Frostfangs rush towards us, whines tearing at my ears.
Blayze pushes Leilani again, thrusting her further back, as he strides to meet the wolves, swinging his mace.
Maris goes with him, shortsword raised high above her head.
Tansy, Delphine and I close ranks around the Princess.
Tansy lifts her bow, draws back one of our few precious arrows, lets it fly.
Wet, tearing sounds swell, so gut-wrenching, even Delphine’s silken song can’t drown them out, as the frostfangs swarm on the fallen cragstalker.
‘Briar, no!’
The dread in Tansy’s scream tears my attention back to our dwindling circle.
Briar, gentle, loving Briar, stands with her horn lowered at the wolves, its length dripping with gore. A frostfang corpse at her hooves.
Those cracks in the ice, like the delicate web of fractures on an eggshell preparing to hatch, are lengthening.
Tansy lets out another yell. It’s Leilani.
Without Blayze and his inhuman strength to block her, she’s wrenching at the healer’s free arm, forcing her way into the fray.
She’s part of the circle now, standing shoulder to shoulder with Tansy on one side and me the other.
I glare at her, readying to force her back again, away from danger, away from the temptation of summoning starshine again too, but then a grey shadow streaks towards us.
It’s pure instinct to raise my blade, to slash again and again, channelling the Clanschief’s frenzied blows.
To protect her. The blade sinks into something furred, and warm liquid coats my fingers.
The frostfang crumples beneath my blade, falling to the ice with a nauseating thump.
I’ve killed it.
The awareness comes in waves, and yet it doesn’t seem real – some far-off thing I can’t grasp.
It’s impossible to keep my thoughts straight; my mind is too clouded by Delphine’s song.
She’s dulling our senses, right when we need them sharp as the ignastium blade of my sword.
And her spell isn’t even working on the wolves.
She needs to stop.
‘Delphine!’ My yell is snatched by a strong wind that whips my cloak and stings my cheeks. Something rumbles. My eyes turn back to the ice. The cracks are inching closer.
We need to move. Now.
The rumble comes again, louder this time. But I’m wrong. It’s not the ice making that sound. It’s too loud, and the vibrations aren’t coming from underfoot, they’re coming from the sky.
I crane my neck. Serafine circles overhead, beating her wings to some inaudible, staccato rhythm. Lightning forks the bruised sky behind her, thunder following swiftly at its heels.
Delphine is still chanting, her song luring me to sleep despite the nightmare unfolding around us.
And then it strikes me. This is the purpose of her song. Not to beguile the wolves, but to assist Serafine. They’re not strong enough alone, not thus depleted and far from their respective cores, but together, they’re siphoning Flame and Wave Aethers. Forging a storm. Creating a diversion.
Soon, the air is so thick with churning snowflakes I can hardly see, and the gap between thunderclaps and lightning bolts shrinks to nothing.
‘On my signal, mount the cragstalkers and steer towards the mountain.’ Blayze’s voice is only just audible over the driving wind. ‘Now!’
I reach for Leilani, drag her towards the largest of the cats. Hands bloodied, hair falling across my eyes, I mount it, then reach for her again, drawing her up behind me.
Gripping the cragstalker’s fur with one hand, I lean back, swinging the Crescent Sword in the other, fending off the frostfangs snapping at our heels and tearing at Leilani’s cloak.
One of the wolves launches at us, sending the cragstalker reeling on thin ice.
Somehow it stays upright. The frostfang lunges for its back leg.
The cragstalker roars in pain. I slash at the frostfang with my blade, trying to drive it back.
As I lift my sword to deliver another blow, the frostfang releases the cat’s haunch, snarls, and clamps frothing, bloodied jaws around my arm.
Leilani screams. Sharp pain engulfs my forearm.
I swear, kick at the wolf, but it only bites down harder. The pain flares.
With a desperate yell, I wrench my arm free.
Try to ignore the sound of ripping flesh, the rush of something warm and viscous seeping through my shirt.
Swapping my sword to my weaker arm, I bring it down on the frostfang, raining blow after blow, till, with a wet crunch, I sever its head, silencing its awful howl, stilling forever its snapping jaws.
I fall back against Leilani.
Blood. Too much blood.
‘Astrophel,’ she breathes, panic shaking her voice.
‘I’m all right,’ I lie, trying not to look at the mangled mess the frostfang has made of my arm.
A sweet, ferrous tang taints the already foul air.
I fight against the rising nausea. Leilani’s pressing the wound.
But blood’s oozing through her fingers. It’s hopeless, like trying to dam a river with pebbles.
She lifts her hands away. Dark spots swarm in front on my eyes.
I try to lift my head, but it swims, and I collapse against her again.
‘Astrophel, stay with me. Do you hear me?’
I try to cling to the sound of her voice. Not to close my eyes. There’s a tearing sound. Something bracing my wound. I yelp in pain as Leilani tightens a makeshift tourniquet fashioned from her torn shirttail.
The wolves’ howls echo across the ice. We’re not out of danger yet.
Our cragstalker is slipping, moving too fast, lurching wildly. Sister, spare us.
The thunder grows deafening, lightning flashes directly overhead.
The sky has darkened; I can no longer see the foot of the mountain to judge how far we still have to travel over the glacier.
I can’t see the other cats, or the other members of the Quaternity.
I can’t even hear them. They could all lie slaughtered on the ice.
I push that thought from my mind. The conjured storm may yet serve its purpose – drive the frostfangs back to their mountain lair. Leilani is safe. That’s all that matters. And she hasn’t tried to use her powers again. Maybe Orthriel was wrong about the Shadow Mark. About what it means.
I press my head to her chest, savouring the gentle cradle of her arms, her soft murmurs of comfort. She must care something for me.
I focus on that hope and grit my teeth against the giddiness, the pain seething in my arm, as the cragstalker carries us into the unknown.
*
THE STORM CONTINUES to rage, but the snow is thinning.
At first, I can only see shadows. The foot of the Astral Mountain is looming above us – we’re close to it now.
Smudges appear left and right, which sharpen into the other cragstalkers.
I count heads, heart in my throat. Blayze, riding alone; Maris and Delphine together on the third cat.
I look for the fourth. A hollow ache drags my stomach as I remember there are only three now. There will only ever be three.
It’s only now I realise our cragstalker is lolloping – dragging its back leg. A trail of blood stretches behind us, looping over the ice like a scarlet ribbon. Mine? The cat’s?
Briar limps into view. Poor Briar, still so weak and forced to carry Tansy on her back.
We’re almost across the glacier, and everyone’s accounted for. Bloodied, bruised, but alive. The frostfangs, nowhere to be seen.
My heart swells. If we can only get to safety, Tansy can close my wounds.
They’re deep and my head is still swimming, but the tourniquet is stemming the worst of the bleeding.
So long as she acts quickly, we can continue on our quest. My gaze wings up to the mountain’s soaring peak.
Stars only know how I’ll manage the climb one-handed, but I’ll find a way.
I can’t leave Leilani alone. Not after Orthriel made me promise…
‘No.’ Leilani gasps, chest straining beneath my head, interrupting all thoughts of the cielsylph’s dark warnings.
I look up at her. Her eyes are clouded.
She’s having a vision, but what has she seen?
A peal of thunder explodes, louder than all the fire-flowers at the Thawtide celebrations, followed by a blinding fork of lightning. It pulls my attention left and my blood runs cold.
This. This is what she saw.
A whip of lightning striking Blayze in the chest.
He slumps, topples from his cragstalker like a felled pine, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. Cracks radiate around his body: a perverse halo.
And the Clanschief sinks beneath the ice.