Blood in Snow (30 page)

In Edmund’s mind, she was as massive as a mother bear, dark shadows rolling off her grey fur. Her eyes glowed flame-red.

The Undead King spun around.

Leaning against the wall for support, Pond rasped, “Get him, Becky.”

Becky ambled down the corridor toward the Undead King, who staggered back, looking around wildly, until his gaze locked on Edmund’s sword lying on the floor. He made to reach for it, but Edmund, still clutching Abby to his chest, knocked it away, then wrapped an arm around the Undead King’s legs so he couldn’t run.

Crying out, the Undead King stumbled, then toppled as Becky pounced, latching on to his raised forearm with her powerful jaws. There was a crunch and a shriek.

Becky clawed and bit, snarled and thrashed while the Undead King screamed beneath her. He clutched Becky’s fur in desperation, shouted words in some language long forgotten. Where he’d grabbed, blue flames erupted, but Becky’s fur didn’t even singe. She dragged her claws across the Undead King’s already bloodied face.

Pond crawled to Edmund’s side. “How … how is she? Is she … is she okay?” Then he saw her ashen face and her blood-covered stomach. “Oh by the gods, by the gods!” Grasping Abby’s limp hand, he began to sob.

Abby stirred. “Shut … up,” she whispered.

Both Edmund and Pond gave a cry and squeezed her tight.

“Kill … him,” she gasped. “Kill him, Ed.”

“What?” Edmund wiped away his tears. “What did you say?”

“Kill … the bastard.”

The Undead King writhed on the floor, struggling to keep Becky from ripping into his throat.

“Pond, can you, can you stand?” Edmund said. “Can you carry her?”

Pond nodded through his tears. Then, still sobbing, he said to Abby, “I love you! I love you so much!”

“Shut up,” she said, voice a little stronger. She offered a weak smile.

Edmund pushed her into Pond’s arms and seized his sword lying in Abby’s blood.

“Get her out of here. Through the library. Do you know how to get there?”

“Yeah.” Pond clambered to his feet, holding the nearly limp Abby. “To the top, then left.” He hugged her, kissed her forehead. “I’m so sorry,” he told her. “I’m so, so sorry!”

Abby’s hand flinched, as if she were trying to slap him. “I’m not getting married.”

“We’ll talk about it later.” Pond hugged her again.

“Get her out of here,” Edmund said. “Go! Go out the secret door!”

“Are you going to be okay?” Pond asked, sniffling.

“Go!”

“All right. But Ed—”

“Go!”

Pond hesitated. “Good luck, and … and thanks.”

“Thank me when we’re safe. Now get her out of here.”

Edmund watched Pond struggle up the stairs, Abby in his arms. When they were out of view, he turned his attention back to the Undead King, Becky still atop him, snapping furiously as he fought to keep her at arm’s length, electric-blue fire dancing harmlessly off of her grey fur.

Staggering up to them, Edmund aimed his sword and drove it into the Undead King’s heart. Blood erupted in a geyser as the Undead King’s resistance to Becky crumbled. Becky, the blue fire disappearing from her fur, seized his throat and bit down. Thrashing her jaws from side to side, she nearly ripping the Undead King’s head clean off his body.

The Undead King didn’t move.

Edmund fell back against the blood-splattered wall and slid to the floor. Becky pranced over to him. She barked as if wanting to play.

Edmund stroked her neck, then pulled her close to him. Burying his face into her bloody fur, he began to weep.

“Thanks, girl. Thank you!”

She licked the side of his face.

“I don’t know what the hell a werehound is, but I’m glad you’re on my side.”

She pulled out of his embrace, lowered her front end, and barked again.

Edmund was about to laugh at her when, to his horror, the Undead King’s hand began to flex. The gashes in his chest and throat were completely gone. His face was white and drawn with pain, but clearly, he was very much alive.

Snatching his sword, Edmund hacked the Undead King’s body over and over again. He cut off the head, the arms, the feet. He hacked until his sword had cleaved deep gouges in the ceramic tiles beneath; he chopped until his arms grew weary. But even as he collapsed, exhausted from his labor, Edmund could see the wounds slowly re-healing.

“I’m … I’m never going to kill him.”

He’s mastered life and death …

Becky stood at the foot of the stairs, peering back, tail wagging.

Get out of here! The best you can do is run. Run, and get Pond and Abby back to Rood.

But this wasn’t why he’d come to the tower in the first place.

“Becky, can you smell a baby? A human baby?”

Becky bounded about, barking.

“Find her, girl! Go on! Find Molly’s baby! Go!”

Turning, Becky sprang up the stairs. Edmund slashed at the healing body several more times, then hobbled after Becky, a sense of fear creeping over him.

When Edmund had finally managed to reach the top of the stairs, Becky danced about, then ran off down the hallway.

“Wait!” he called after her.

He limped through the dining hall and the observatory until he reached the stairs to the uppermost level. Becky was already vaulting up them.

“Stick close, girl. You don’t know who—”

She disappeared from view.

“Wait!”

Still weak, Edmund labored up each step.

Again Becky waited for him at the top of the landing, but she was no longer playful. Growling, she glared to the right, down the passage, away from the Undead King’s bedchamber and library.

Breathing hard, Edmund leaned on his sword.

“She’s … she’s that way? You sure?”

He glanced behind him, half expecting to see the Undead King thundering up the stairs.

He’s going to come soon. Run! Just get out of here and get Abby to safety.

He peered right, down the passage as it bent out of view, and signaled Becky to follow him.

“All right, Beck. Let’s … let’s go find Molly’s daughter.”

They stalked cautiously along the inner wall of the curving passage, past several closed doors of intricately carved wood, until they came to one of gilded metal, much like the Undead King’s own bedroom.

Becky growled at the crack under the door. Just beyond it, Edmund heard movement—quick movement, as if somebody was trying to hide.

But who?

Maybe the baby’s guarded.

Or maybe the Undead King has a queen!

The thought of killing the Undead King’s wife gave Edmund a flash of pleasure. But could he actually kill a female of any race? Next to him, Becky bristled as she glowered at the gold doorknob.

He took a deep breath.

Okay. Let’s get this over with.

In one fluid motion, Edmund flung open the door and charged inside, wielding his gore-covered sword. Immediately something heavy struck the top of his head, driving him to his knees. His vision went grey. Somewhere nearby, Becky snarled, barked, and bit. A woman screamed. Then another sound joined the commotion: a baby crying.

“Becky!” Edmund struggled to his feet.

The baby’s crying rose to terrified screams that hit ever-higher notes.

Edmund’s vision started to clear.

A few paces away, a figure fell to the floor. Becky leapt on it, biting and clawing as the screams and shouts grew more frantic.

Reaching for his dropped sword, Edmund heaved himself to his feet. A female goblin, rotund with large breasts sagging out of an open tunic, writhed on the floor swinging a heavy book. Becky drove forward, clamping on to her meaty throat, snapping the goblin woman’s neck with a loud crack.

Near the arched stained glass windows spanning the far wall of the stately room, a throne-like rocking chair of brown chestnut still tottered back and forth as if its occupant had suddenly sprung up. Next to it stood an exquisite crib of carved ivory, studded with rubies and sapphires glimmering in morning’s soft light.

Edmund crept toward the crib.

A head popped up above the railing.

Though its red face was contorted in a scream and glistening wet from crying, Edmund immediately recognized the round cheeks, button nose, and strands of auburn hair.

The baby’s screams faltered as she examined Edmund with wide green eyes, fear shifting to confusion, then to delight. She sat back down with a plop.

Molly …

The baby giggled as she lifted a chubby foot to her mouth, a thick string of drool connecting her toes to her toothless gums.

She even looks like her.

Especially around the cheeks. But the eyes, the eyes are more like—

Edmund gasped.

Norb wasn’t the father!

The baby smiled at Edmund.

Oh no …

Him!

The baby cocked her head, pulled her moist toes to her nose, and giggled some more.

She’s flirting with me?

She thinks she can get you to do anything she wants.

Like mother, like daughter.

Edmund laughed despite himself then stifled a bittersweet sob.

Oh, Molly …

He picked up the baby and held her. She had an oddly fresh smell, like a meadow after a clean spring rain.

You can’t bring back Molly, but—

Behind them, something gurgled.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Haggard and as pale as a corpse, the Undead King lurched into the room, gasping through his still-mangled throat.

“Leave her alone.”

Snarling, Becky shot at the Undead King, but one kick of his foot sent the puppy crashing into the rocking chair.

“Leave … her … alone,” he said again, voice strengthening as the gash across his neck healed. “She’s mine.”

With the baby in the crook of his left arm and his right hand gripping the hilt of the black-bladed sword, Edmund took a step back, bumping into the baby’s lavish crib. The baby stopped giggling.

“She’s, she’s n-n-not, she’s not yours. She’s, she’s Molly’s! I can see it in her face.”

The Undead King flexed his hand as if to make sure it was attached properly and fought to straighten to his full height. He took another wobbly step into the nursery.

“Put her down, Edmund. I’m her father. You’re nobody to her!”

Becky pulled herself from underneath the broken rocking chair and limped out in front of Edmund, growling as the Undead King approached. Whatever power she’d had before, it was spent; now she was just a dog.

“I’ll let you and your werehound go,” said the Undead King, “but leave my daughter here.”

You’d better do something. He’s getting stronger.

“You can’t defeat me, Edmund. I have mastered death, and I have mastered life. I cannot be killed by the likes of you.”

We have to get out of here …

The Undead King took another step forward, color returning to his deathly pallid face. Becky’s guttural growls grew more insistent, but she retreated as he pressed into the middle of the room.

“Put her down!” he demanded.

Edmund thrust his sword out in front of him as though warding off impending doom, yet his hand trembled with fatigue. The baby squirmed. He fought to keep her pressed against his blood-soaked chest. He needed to sit down; he needed to sleep.

“She’s coming with me. Now get out of my way!”

The Undead King grinned.

“You’re tired, Edmund. You can barely stand, let alone fight me.” He took another step. “As great as your potential is, you cannot win. You’ve told me everything I need to know to make the alloy, and soon my life’s ambition will be complete. I don’t need you any longer. Put the baby down so she doesn’t get hurt.”

He won’t cast any spells while you’re holding her.

Do something!

“Put her down, now, before I change my mind about letting you live!” the Undead King bellowed. “Now!”

Scream for Pond. He might be able to hear from the library.

Let Pond and Abby have their lives. They have each other.

“Give me my daughter, Edmund.”

Still tucked in Edmund’s arm, the baby babbled to herself, high and bubbly.

“You’ll never have her,” Edmund said, surprised by how protective he felt of the little girl. He’d give his life up without a second thought; already she felt a part of him. “Never.”

Edmund advanced, but his legs buckled.

The Undead King laughed.

“You’re so tired, Edmund,” he said, as if soothing a fussy child to sleep. “So very, very tired. Now put my daughter down before you hurt her.”

Whether if by magic or the months of fear and running finally catching up with him, Edmund’s already dwindling energy began to slip away. His eyelid tarried closed longer and longer with each blink; the baby seemed to get heavier and heavier like a squirming sack of sugar.

“I can wait,” the Undead King said pleasantly. His elegant clothes were torn and stained with blood, yet he appeared now as he first had in the hallway—tall and lordly and very much alive.

Keep awake! Come on!

I haven’t slept for more than a day and a half.

“Put my daughter down, Edmund. Put her down and leave. You’re free to go where you like and do whatever your heart desires. But she stays with me.”

Just run out of here. Barrel into him. Knock him down. Becky can take care of him.

He glanced down at Becky, who bared her teeth at the Undead King and stood before him like a guard; however, she was no longer the great wolf-like animal with death in her eyes. Instead, she looked every bit the young dog who’d charged the troll and nearly got herself killed. Blood trickled from one nostril.

She’s hurt.

You’ll both be dead soon if you don’t get out of here. If you can get to the bedroom or the library, you could close the door and make it swell. That would buy you time. It’s your only hope.

With his remaining energy, Edmund ran several steps directly at the Undead King then, at the last moment, swerved around him, making a break for the open door. Without even appearing to move, the Undead King blocked his way.