Chapter 24 – Vale
VALE
High above, the shadows disappeared, but the fear that struck my heart when Isolde had unleashed them remained. She’d done so to save Filip—right in front of Lord Balik, and although I was quite far away, I could see the Warden of the South’s reaction well enough.
I wished to fly to my mate. To comfort her and then go to Lord Balik and convince him the shadows were nothing to worry about. That Isolde was learning to control them.
But the battle still raged, and fresh blood spilled across the trampled snow. I needed to focus, and focus I did, weaving my destrier between the legs of giants, slicing at their tendons. I struck true once more, and the giant fell, the ground shuddering beneath his weight.
A series of whistles pierced the air. The sound wasn’t recognizable as anything our small force had devised to signal. Nor did I believe it came from a giant. Their whistles would be far louder.
Maneuvering out of the danger, I scanned the valley, hunting for the source, only to see dwarves burst out of their mountain prison. Their stocky horses’ hooves pounded the ground with vengeance as the first wave of dwarves joined the fight.
I changed course and rode to meet them, locating the king easily in the throng of dwarves, thanks to his golden-handled battle axe. When King Tholin spotted me, he held up a hand. His soldiers parted around him, around me, as we stopped to debrief.
“That darkness was Neve’s?” the king asked.
I pretended to be distracted by the dwarves streaming around us.
“I was watching, Prince Vale. I only ask as a courtesy.”
I cringed. “Yes.”
The king exhaled but nodded. “Considering what she’s doing right now, I can’t complain.”
I gaped. Far away from other battles, Isolde and Thyra were fighting together again, and this time both wielded shadows.
Their tendrils wrapped tightly around the giant’s thick neck, choking it.
The creature thrashed, but the shadows remained steadfast until the giant’s knees buckled, and he toppled.
“I should join her,” I said.
“As will I.”
“Out of the way!” I shouted as the king and I veered out of the river of dwarves in the direction of my mate.
We raced, side by side, through the melee.
A handful of dwarves, knights of the Dergian royal house by the looks of them, joined.
Giants approached, slowing us, but we were all trained warriors.
We downed one, and began work on the second, then the third.
However, when a fourth barreled our way, no one saw her until she extended her hand and the king flew off his horse, right into her waiting palm.
“She’s a magic user!” I pivoted to charge the giant holding King Tholin, but the light-footed giantess was already rushing from the fray for the far end of the valley.
“Summoner?” Sayyida called out.
“I think so,” I replied but didn’t dare to look back to see where they were.
Not only was this giantess a rare magic-user among her kind, she was fast, far faster than the other giants, and her long legs ate up the ground. I could not lose her in all that was going on.
Qildor, Thordur, and Sayyida pulled up to race alongside me. I caught the Prince of Dergia’s eyes, stony and hard.
“We’ll get to him in time,” I promised.
“We’d better!”
Pushing the horses to their limits, they wove through chaos until we ran alongside the female giant.
Careful to keep a safe distance, I sized up the situation.
The giantess was clutching the king in her fist, so I could not see him, could not make sure he was safe.
We had to operate under the assumption that he was not.
Ropes wouldn’t work here, not when we were all traveling so fast. No, we had to attack from above.
“Qildor and I will fly,” I shouted. “Sayyida, when the king falls, catch him.” Once the giant fell, the king would too. “Otherwise, try not to draw her attention.” The last thing we needed would be for the giantess to summon more people into her palms.
Thordur didn’t need instructions. The moment his father was free from the giant’s clutches, he’d go to his aid.
“Now, Qildor!” We shot out of the saddles, our wings lifting us high.
The giantess’s bloodshot eyes widened as we neared her face. “Monsters!”
Monsters? How rich, considering her tribe was eating other fae.
She waved her free arm in our direction but we scattered like frostflies, avoiding the hand that could take our lives. Her magic pulsed past me, narrowly missing calling me into her hand. We zigged and zagged out of her reach, until finally, I spotted an opening.
I soared closer and lanced my sword straight through her temple. Qildor’s sword struck her neck—both relatively delicate areas, if anything about giants could be considered delicate. He sliced at just the right angle, opening an artery.
The giant shrieked, and her hand opened as she fell. The King of Dergia tumbled from her grasp.
“Sayyida!” I bellowed.
She soared upward, arms extended, ready. I held my breath. Only released it when she caught the king. They were safe. They were—
A rock twice the size of me slammed into Sayyida. She let out a cry, and the pair dropped to the ground. Landed hard.
“Over there!” Qildor pointed, and I spotted the culprit.
One of the smaller giants, a youngling I thought, was hurling boulders at our forces.
He’d taken down a good number too, but wouldn’t be continuing.
Isolde and Thyra had already spotted him, and their tendrils were already wrapping around his neck as Astril and Freyia sliced at his tendons, immobilizing the young giant.
Somewhere else in the valley, I caught a blast of fire that lit up the dusk. Rynni’s flame for the day.
“They’ve got the stone-thrower. Care for the king and Sayyida.” I soared to the ground.
Thordur arrived with me, his face bloodless as he took in his father, splayed on the ground with an unconscious Sayyida at his side. Red spattered the snow, and it took me only seconds to figure out why.
The king’s lower leg was gone at the knee, the tear of the skin horribly uneven. Possibly done by the giant’s long, jagged fingernails while she ran.
Sayyida moaned. A good sign that she was alive. I gestured to Qildor to help her and focused on the king.
“He’ll bleed to death.” Panic fluttered across the prince’s face.
“Not if we work fast.” I hoped it was true. Many times, I’d saved soldiers in battle. None, however, had been hurt this badly.
Could such a large wound be cauterized? I did not know, but I pulled off my belt and tied it above the knee. The blood flow slowed. Not enough, though. Not nearly enough.
“Hold the wound,” I instructed. “Try to reduce the flow.”
Thordur complied clumsily. I got the sense that his brain was no longer functioning as it should. He was in shock.
I searched for the dragon-fae, but she was so far away. I was about to take my chances and soar off to get Rynni when Isolde landed mere paces away.
“Halladora, watch our backs. I have an idea,” she said as she leapt from Arava. The Valkyrja was right behind her, turning to do as her queen commanded.
I shifted, allowing my mate closer, giving her room. She pulled her sword and sliced her hand open. I blinked, confused, and then understanding dawned.
Isolde had told me once that the shadows within Sassa’s Blade had asked her bidding. Presumably, they would do whatever she asked for the price of her blood.
“Save him. Seal the wound,” she said.
The shadow figure that materialized glided over to the king and the body morphed, covering the injury, stopping the blood. I watched it all in amazement. In relief. And when no more blood dripped from the king’s leg, I placed a hand on Thordur’s shoulder.
“He’ll live. Isolde will make sure of it.”
“I will,” my mate said, her tone off.
I turned to her and that brief flash of relief that I’d felt vanished. She held the blade to her palm, but then I recalled what happened when we’d fought the orc horde. How she’d passed out.
“Can you use your shadows?” I asked. “They don’t need blood, right?”
“I can try. But mine are weaker and not as reliable yet. This kind can do much more because they’re from his magic.”
She didn’t have to tell me who he was. Long ago, King érebo’s shadow powers had been placed in the sword. In exchange for blood, shadow figures did the bidding of his mate.
“We need Thyra to help.” I worried at how long my wife could hold out.
“It’s not taking as much as with the orcs, but it is a constant suck, and we’re far from Myrr. One of the vampires would be better, I think. They’re probably sticking close to Thyra.”
The vampires! Of course. Their blood could ease the king’s pain and injury, lessening Isolde’s need to give blood to that shadow.
“I’ll be right back.” Not wanting to waste time getting to my horse, I rose in the air.
As I scanned for Freyia or Astril, I assessed the damage done to our side.
Some had fallen, but fewer than we’d guessed.
Only a handful of giants remained on their feet, most of them entangled with our soldiers.
It was in one such battle that I spotted the eldest Red Assassin, working with her sister to bait a giant very near where Thyra flew.
I flew towards her. “Astril!”
Her hearing, as impeccable as ever, caught my shout. She located me, and I waved her over. A blur came my way, and a second later, the vampire was there.
“What?”
“Isolde is over there, keeping the King of Dergia alive, but barely. She needs you to give him blood.”
“We do not make it a custom to share our blood.”
My shoulders hardened. Isolde was no normal person, but a princess. Their princess who one day might be a queen. “I do not expect you to help the entire army, but if you do not do as she asked, I will rip you apart.”
The vampire scowled, but gave a single nod before she disappeared, her blur of motion heading for my mate. I followed, and when I arrived, I found Astril’s wrist already pressed against Isolde’s lips. My stomach clenched. In what little time I’d been gone, Isolde’s cheeks had paled.
Upon seeing me, Isolde released the vampire’s wrist and took a long breath. “See to the king.”
“Will he be fine with it?” Astril asked.
“Do it,” Thordur said, his tone raspy. “Do it, please.”
At the prince’s plea, the vampire stalked over to the dwarf king, knelt, and assessed the damage.
“I’ll have to apply blood to the wound first. Then have him drink. My blood won’t heal all this damage, or even ensure the wound stops bleeding during the journey home. This damage is far too great.”
“He must survive,” Thordur said. “That’s all I ask.”
“Very well. Remove the shadow bind so I can apply blood. You’ll have to reapply it afterwards to be safe, but take the rest while you can.”
Isolde did as the vampire asked, and the effect on my mate was instantaneous. She sucked in air and stood straighter. I went to her side as Astril worked, dripping blood over the king’s wound.
“How are you?” I asked.
“Weak,” she admitted. “She’s right that the injury is extensive. I wouldn’t have lasted the whole way back.”
I pulled her close.
“But if she can stabilize him enough and stop the bleeding, I think the bind to keep the wound from re-opening will be minimal,” Isolde continued, seemingly trying to convince herself as much as me.
“I’ll ask Thyra to help too, when necessary.
And of course the healers, though I think they’ll need more supplies than we brought. ”
I cast a glance at the battle. Or, more accurately, the lack of fighting. Not a single giant remained standing, leaving a relative hush where their roars and bellows had been.
We’d won, but we weren’t out of the dark yet.
“Burning seas, what happened?” a groggy voice came from behind.
Isolde pulled away just enough so that we could both see Sayyida rise to sit with Qildor’s assistance.
“I’m almost certain the fall severely strained some muscles in your arm. Maybe even fractured or broke a bone,” the knight said. “It’s already heavily bruised. Take care.”
“Fates,” I muttered. How many more dire injuries would there be?
Isolde let out a long sigh, mirroring my inner turmoil. “You should go help the others. See if anyone else needs stitches or the like. I’ll be fine here.”
I kissed her forehead, knowing she spoke logically, even if I hated to let her go. “I’ll flag down Rynni and send her over. Call if you need anything.”
“I will.”
I squeezed her hand one last time, and in the last light of day, went to assess the damage.