Killian
The storm came without warning.
We were two weeks into our journey, the mountain ranges growing colder by the day.
We covered ourselves in fur-lined cloaks, a gift from the giants of the Verdant Maw for me and my future bride.
If Ilaris was displeased by the reminder, she did not show it, only burrowed deeper into the warmth, her breath a white cloud.
On the sixteenth day of travel, nothing but white mist, above and below, met our eyes, while snowflakes spiraled out of the sky, dusting the curves of the balloon with ice.
That heat that so readily lived under my skin faded, going dormant as though it were hibernating.
I’d been north, to the Ice Land, before, and had never felt this odd shift in my magic.
As though I were close to something that muted my senses and stripped my magic. The suppression troubled me.
On the seventeenth day, when the storm struck, it caught me unaware.
Dark clouds gathered, building like walls raised by unseen hands.
A roar came as if a great god had drawn breath and hurled it against the world.
The wind hit us like a fist, sending us careening through a sky as black as night.
Hard pellets of sleet battered against us, and the ropes were useless as we swirled.
Control, gone. We were in the maw of the storm.
A sharp ripping sound came as the balloon was torn in two. The fire that kept it alive descended onto the basket in a cascade of dying heat. Ilaris screamed. I hoped it was a scream of fear, not of pain. But there was no time to reach for her, to investigate, as I was thrown from the balloon.
I shouted her name as I was ripped away, and for one dizzying moment there was nothing but me airborne. Sound escaped me, muffled as a blur of mountain and snow rushed past me, the ground looming and then a solid impact.
I wasn’t out for long, couldn’t have been, as my breath came roaring into my lungs.
I gasped once, twice, again, pressing my hands flat against the cold ground.
Pieces of the basket rained down beside me, shreds of wicker shards, a mass of tangled rope, almost hitting me.
And then, with a thump, Jasper, nosing against me.
He was full-sized, covered in thick, shaggy fur, his horns curling back as though they were meant for his rider to hold on to him. His voice echoed in my head.
We have to find her.
I stilled as the storm howled above me, ragged edges of lightning biting and snapping at the sky as though throwing a fit. I knew what the signs meant. We should not have come this way. But who knew of our passage here? Who held the power of the wind and wanted to stop us?
An uncomfortable inkling came. The giants were all supposed to be dead and gone. But what if that wasn’t true anymore? I was awake. Lady Justice was wild in the world. What if there was someone else, here?
The thought brought me to my feet, even though I had to bend double against the wind, holding the hood of my cloak over my head and using Jasper’s massive body to shield me.
There was no pain, nothing that might indicate that the bond had been broken and Ilaris was far away from me. Which meant she had to be close.
I cupped my hands around my mouth and called. “Ilaris!”
The wind threw my words back at me along with a roar, like a beast awakening. A white shape lurched out of the snow, howled, then trotted in the opposite direction when I saw Jasper. Wolves. My chest went tight, and I spun, searching the wreckage.
I found her bag first, then the supplies.
The bag full of jewels, I’d kept tight at my belt.
It was secure with me. But finding Ilaris’s satchel, her journal, and the scroll inside made me pause again.
I forced myself to stay calm. She was nearby, perhaps in a snowdrift or knocked unconscious.
It was only a matter of time, a few more moments and I’d find her.