The Winter King (57 page)

“We should just leave them to the
garm,
” Krysti said. “They came here to kill us.”

“They came here because of Falcon and my father. I can’t leave them all to die.” Invaders the Summerlander and Calbernans might be, but there was no way she could just walk away and let the
garm
slaughter them. And not just because the fallen were rising again as ice thralls.

“They’d leave us in a heartbeat.”

“Perhaps. But that doesn’t make it right.” She took a deep breath. “Stay here. Find a place to hide.” She pulled Thorgyll’s spear out of the fallen
garm
and handed it back to Krysti. “Keep this. If the
garm
come back, use it.”

“I’m not letting you go off to fight
garm
without me,” Krysti protested.

“You’re not
letting
me do anything,” Kham snapped. Then she winced. She hadn’t meant to bark at the boy. “I’m sorry, Krysti. It’s too dangerous. I need to know you’re safe.”

“Safe? Do you see what’s out there?” Krysti pointed to a pack of ice thralls attacking two Summerlanders while a
garm
leapt up a tree in pursuit of a third. “I’m a million times safer near you and that sword. And you’re safer with me guarding your back.”

He looked so small, so young, holding a spear more than twice his size, but so determined and brave as well. She wanted to kiss him. More than anything, she wanted to keep him safe. But he was right. There was no such place in this forest. Not now.

“All right,” she conceded. “But don’t stick too close. My lightning is dangerous, and I really don’t know everything this sword can do.”

“Agreed.”

“Then let’s go.” Kham gripped Blazing in one fist and started running towards the knot of Calbernans battling the circling
garm
.

With Blazing in hand, the power that had tingled so tantalizingly out of reach when she was pinned beneath her father’s body now came in an effortless rush. It filled Khamsin and the sword in an instant, warm and revitalizing. Heat filled her and radiated out on all sides, melting the snow for six feet on every side. She seized the warm, moist air swirling around her and drove it up into the dry, cold winter skies above. Clouds blossomed and began darkening rapidly, and she laughed at the familiar cool, fresh, electric taste on the wind.

“Stand your ground!” Kham shouted to a half dozen fleeing Summerlander soldiers. “These creatures can be killed! Use ranged weapons! Bows, arrows, spears! Don’t let the vapor touch you—and cover your ears against their screams! Fight, sons of Summer! Sons of the Isles! Fight!”

The storm overhead was brewing with power. Lightning crackled and raced across the clouds. The purple glow of plasma gathered around Khamsin. Ahead, one of the
garm
circling the Calbernans froze. The long receptor hairs pointed her way by the dozen.

The
garm
spun and leapt for her, teeth gnashing, blue froth flying from its snarling maw.

“Burn!” she cried, and thrust Blazing towards the beast.

Three bolts of lightning shot down from the sky. In less time than it took to blink, the electric charge passed through her, down her arm, then shot out from the tip of Roland’s sword into the
garm
as a single, concentrated flow of power. The lightning slammed into the
garm,
lifting the massive creature off its feet and sending it flying backward through the air. The
garm
burst into flames and landed at the feet of the Calbernans. The flames promptly turned inward, and within less than two seconds, all that remained was a pile of
garm
-shaped ash that collapsed in upon itself and blew away in the next gust of wind.

The second of the dead
garm
’s companions now turned its attention to her, and she dispatched it with similar ease, while the large, blue-tattooed Calbernans threw their viciously barbed tridents at the third, pinning it to the ground. Another island warrior—this one a huge, broad-chested man with long ropes of black-green hair and massive biceps circled by bands of hammered gold—brought an enormous sword arcing down and decapitated the pinned monster with a single, mighty blow. Blue blood spilled out across the snow.

Behind her, Krysti skewered first one, then a second ice thrall with Thorgyll’s spear. The thralls froze solid as stone and didn’t move again. Just to be sure, Kham stabbed each of them with Blazing’s fire and reduced them to ash.

“The
garm
will die,” she told the Calbernans, “but you have to burn the ice thralls with fire.”

The huge Calbernan who had decapitated the
garm
gave her a savage grin and whirled to slice an ice thrall in half, then dismembered what was left with a few enthusiastic chops of his blade.

“I guess that will work, too,” she muttered. A flash of white darting through the trees caught her eye. “Watch out!” she cried to the huge Calbernan. She guided a crackling bolt of lightning that incinerated the
garm
just before it struck the Calbernan’s unprotected back. The shower of hot ash washed harmlessly over the islander, turning his blue-tattooed skin a dull, dusty gray. The man’s golden eyes blinked, and he lifted a hand in a wordless salute of gratitude.

She pointed to another knot of the embattled Calbernans not too far away. “Your friends over there look like they could use some help. I suggest you grab a few of those bows and quivers over there if you know how to use them. They give a better range than those tridents.”

The big, green-haired man barked something in musical Calbernan. The rest of the group plucked their tridents from the dead
garm
and ran to help their comrades, several of them grabbing bows and quivers as they went. The big man sheathed his sword and snatched up four quivers and a long bow.

“Many thanks,
myerina.
Good hunting to you.” With a smile, he bowed his head in her direction, gave a graceful, waving salute of thanks, then sprinted after his men.

Kham and Krysti headed off in a different direction to find another target of their own. It didn’t take long. All around the camp, the scene was like something from a nightmare. Bodies strewn everywhere. Blood and blue
garm
slime mixing together in noxious purple puddles. Frost prickled across every surface.
Garm
were leaping, shrieking, and spewing blue vapor at everything that moved. Ice thralls were hacking at the living.

The storm overhead boiled with energy. Kham called the lightning and incinerated
garm
and ice thralls left and right. The ease of it stunned her. The storm was so strong now, she should have been fighting desperately to control it, but she wasn’t. She could feel and shape the flows of air, summon the lightning or disperse it. The diamond in the hilt of Roland’s sword shone like a beacon, and she knew the power of the sword was helping her maintain control over the wild power of her weathergift. With Blazing in hand, she truly was the master of storms.

She and Krysti fought their way across the encampment, dispatching
garm
and thralls with sword and spear and bolts of lightning. Along the way, she caught the scent of another magic on the wind. Bright flashes that had nothing to do with lightning illuminated the bottoms of the dark clouds to her left.

Kham followed the scent of magic and the light flashes to their source, bracing herself to dispatch whatever was there, only to stop in surprise at the sight of her brother engaged in battle.

She’d thought, when he’d left her to face the
garm
, that he would remain hiding in his tent. Instead, he’d retrieved his bow and quiver and was shooting Sunfire arrows at Rorjak’s minions. Despite everything, she could not help but feel a measure of pride as each of Falcon’s magic-imbued missiles found their targets, exploding
garm
and thralls as his fire clashed with their ice. Grimly handsome, deadly, full of grace and skill, he fought like the Hero of Summerlea she’d always thought him to be.

A tug on her arm pulled her attention away.

“Come on,” Krysti said. “Doesn’t look like he needs our help. Not that I’d want to give it to him even if he did.”

Kham’s throat tightened a little. Why couldn’t Falcon have been the admirable man he should be? The noble man she’d thought he was? Was it a weakness in the Coruscate blood that made first Verdan, then his son, lose all sense of right and wrong? Though nothing in her mourned the death of her father—the wounds he’d inflicted were too deep, too many, and far too painful—every part of her wept at the realization that the heroic brother she’d adored and idolized her whole life no longer existed. If, indeed, he ever had.

“Kham?” Krysti’s small, white-freckled face looked so earnest. So concerned. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s all right.” She forced a small, reassuring smile and ran a hand over his spiky white hair. “I love you, Krysti. You are the brother to me Falcon should have been.” She bent down to give him a hug and a kiss.

When she pulled back, Krysti’s eyes were suspiciously bright, but the boy merely cleared his throat and declared like a true, gruff Winterman, “Well, come on, then. I see more
garm
in need of killing.”

Despite everything, she laughed, and a little bit of the heaviness pressing down on her heart lifted. “Lead the way, noble warrior.”

Between Falcon’s Sunfire arrows, the ferocity of the Calbernans, and the power of Roland’s sword, the remaining
garm
and ice thralls were soon dispatched. In the carnage that remained of the invaders’ camp, the survivors burned the remains of the dead and tended the injured. There weren’t many wounded to speak of.
Garm
were lethally efficient killing machines, and the freezing wounds inflicted by ice thralls sapped their victims’ strength and speed, making them easier to kill.

Kham didn’t have any idea how many men Falcon and his Calbernan allies had lost, but judging by the grim faces and piles of corpses, the
garm
had winnowed quite a few.

“We should go,” Krysti whispered. “Now, before they decide they don’t need us anymore.”

“Where would we go?” she asked. “Rorjak has returned. And if the number of
garm
that just attacked us is any measure, he’s already got a formidable army. There’s no way we can face him on our own.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting that we convince Falcon and his allies to join forces with us and confront Rorjak.”

Krysti gaped at her. “Are you crazy? They tried to kill us! They came to conquer Wintercraig, not to save us!”

“That was before. Now they’ve seen for themselves what Rorjak can do. He’s not just
our
enemy. He’s the enemy of every living soul on Mystral. He’s got to be stopped, even if I have to ally with the enemies of Wintercraig to do it.” She pulled up the hem of her skirts and cut off a long strip from her white underskirts. She looped the strip around her neck like a scarf. “Come on. And stay close. If they try to use you against me again, this won’t end well.”

With Krysti at her heels, Kham strode over to a group of Calbernans who were dragging corpses into a pile to be burned. “Take me to your commander. I wish to negotiate with him under the white stole of peace.”

The Calbernans paused in their grim work. Several reached for their tridents. They were an intimidating lot, as tall as Wintermen, their bronze skin covered in iridescent blue tattoos. Their muscular physiques were put on impressive display in the blue-green loincloths that hung down to their knees, with gleaming plates of scale-shaped copper armor strapped to their chests, shins, and forearms. Unlike the Summerlanders, who were bundled up against the cold, the Calbernans appeared quite impervious to ice and snow. Somehow, that made them even more intimidating.

Kham stood her ground and kept her expression calm, her gaze steady. Her fingers, however, tightened around Blazing’s grip. It was just as well the sword’s sheath was still in Falcon’s tent. Not having it with her gave her an excuse to keep her weapon drawn and ready for a fight. For all her brave, reassuring words to Krysti, Khamsin’s heart was pounding like a hammer. She was taking a huge risk. Just because she helped save these men’s lives didn’t mean they would feel any debt of gratitude.

Two Calbernans whispered something to one another. The larger of the two, a warrior with a scar running the length of one cheek, and a large quantity of blue blood spattered across his body, stepped forward and waved her over. “Come. I will take you.”

Girding herself, Khamsin followed the Calbernan. The rest of the islanders abandoned the burial detail, picked up their tridents, and fell into step around her, effectively boxing her in.

Word traveled quickly as the Calbernans escorted her across the remains of the camp. Curious Calbernans and Summerlanders began to follow them. By the time the Calbernans stopped beside a large bonfire on the other side of camp, Khamsin and Krysti were surrounded by the remaining army of invaders. The man leading them gestured for them to wait while he ducked inside a Calbernan tent. A few moments later, he reemerged. Directly behind him came the enormous Calbernan in the golden armor whose life she had saved at the beginning of the attack. Hope stirred in Khamsin’s breast, only to falter when the tent flaps parted again, and her brother Falcon stepped through.

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Krysti muttered.

Kham clutched Blazing so tight, her fingers went numb. “You may be right.” But it was too late to change her mind now.

“Falcon.” Kham acknowledged her brother warily. “I’m glad to see you survived the
garm.
”

“You should have escaped when you had the chance, Storm.”

“You mean after you left me pinned and defenseless when the
garm
attacked? I wouldn’t leave my worst enemy to face that fate—which I proved when I stayed to help the very people who came to destroy my home and kill my people. But even if I could be as self-serving as you, Falcon, there is no escape anymore. Not for me. Not for you. Not for any of us.”