Chapter 62
Hekla whirled in a full circle, taking in the roiling battle in the heartwood.
Everywhere she looked, undead forest creatures clashed with mail-clad warriors.
The snow was sprayed with black and red blood, the moldered scent of Turned creatures heavy in the air.
Silla’s warriors were impossibly outnumbered, and it seemed Hekla and her crew had arrived in the nick of time.
The Forest Maiden and her beasts surged into battle, cheers of relief rising up from Silla’s beleaguered warband.
Hekla watched in disbelief as a reindeer gouged a vampire deer, allowing a knot of warriors to take the vampire deer’s head.
Nearby, forest spirits clustered around a Turned mountain cat, disorienting the beast and giving a nearby warrior the chance to drive his blade through its neck.
Beside her, Gunnar bellowed before charging into the fray with Sigrún on his heels, but Hekla took another moment to assess where she was most needed in the battle.
Her gaze jumped to Eyvind’s older brother Atli, battling side by side with a black-haired youth.
On the farthest edge of the clearing, the Kalasgardian Galdra wielded their magic—bushy-bearded Kálf lashing his fire whip at undead ravens, while pale-skinned Hef snatched a Turned fox clean from the air and yanked the head from its shoulders with his Blade Breaker strength.
Above the din of battle, the mist’s heartbeat thundered, and Hekla traced the sound to its origin—a giant aberration of a tree.
Her blood chilled at the sight of the thing.
Its trunk was thick and gray, bark bulging with various burls.
She watched in disgust as one of the protrusions burst and white spores belched from it.
They mingled together, forming a cloud, which whipped out toward…
Hekla gasped as she recognized the figures squaring off before the monstrosity of a tree. Silla, small yet nimble, battling an enormous Turned bear. But Rey—he’d collapsed on the ground, a familiar figure standing above him. Flames poured from Eyvind’s palms, driving the mist back.
Her heart clenched tight, and Hekla started forward, ready to defend Eyvind’s flank as she had in Istré. But she made it no farther than a step before a yelp had Hekla whirling.
An enormous Turned wolfspider towered over her.
As she took in the spider’s five ruined eyes, a smile formed on her lips, but it quickly fell. Because cradled in Gjalla’s feelers was the silk-wrapped body of a creature she knew all too well.
Protector! pleaded Kritka, his voice so quiet over the din of battle.
“Kritka,” Hekla hissed. Nausea roiled in her gut, but anger quickly overtook it. “Release him!” she bellowed, raising her longsword.
If you want the beast, chittered Gjalla inside Hekla’s skull, then come and get him.
Hekla’s vision tunneled, a scream building deep inside her chest. This monster had tried to kill her. Had very nearly ended Eyvind’s life as well. And now it had taken Kritka.
This ended. Now.
She glanced over her shoulder, confirming that Eyvind had warriors at his back. And then her scream broke free as Hekla tore after the spider.