Winter Be My Shield (26 page)

Rasten stood, breathing hard through the pain, and swept Isidro's feet out from under him with a lash of flame.

His lips twisted in a snarl, Rasten kicked Isidro in the ribs, slamming him back into the snow with a grunt. As he fell back Rasten stepped onto the elbow of Isidro's broken arm, pinning him to the ground. ‘So, you're still alive!' Rasten said in a breathless growl, his face twisted in pain. ‘I didn't think you'd have the balls to face me again. This time I'll skin you alive.' Rasten lifted his foot and stamped with all his weight on Isidro's broken arm.

Light flared over the riverbank as Sierra abandoned all restraint and erupted in a storm of power. The world seemed to pause and that one instant stretched out so that time appeared to move with glacial speed. Rasten couldn't take her now and he knew it — the pain of his injury would feed her power beyond his ability to control her. She might be safe for the moment, but Rasten would make Isidro pay for what he had done.

Isidro pressed his head back on the snow, bracing for the blow. He had made his decision and he expected to die here. The sight of it made Sierra's heart ache. Death had been her choice tonight, not his or Cam's.

She struck at Rasten just as his foot fell on Isidro's arm with a muffled crack. Isidro cried out, a low bellow of pain, and then Sierra's blast drove Rasten off him, leaving him staggering to keep his feet. It would have killed any other man but Rasten's power met hers head-on with a clash of brilliant light and crackling energy.

In the midst of it all Isidro curled around his ruined arm, his face an ashen grey. Rhia's splints and wrappings had given him some protection but they weren't enough.

The clash of power had also thrown Sierra back. Shakily, she crossed the snow to Isidro's side while Rasten turned to face her. With a rope of flame he reached over his shoulder to pull out the knife and dropped the bloody blade onto the snow.

Sierra wanted to drop to her knees next to Isidro and take his pain away, but she didn't dare take her eyes from Rasten. Instead she stayed where she was with Isidro curled and gasping for breath at her feet. For this moment at least, his agony was all that kept him alive. She needed the power his pain gave her and though she hated herself for it, she would leave him to suffer.

Breathing hard, Rasten backed away. ‘This isn't over,' he said. ‘Not by a long shot. You're a monster, Little Crow, and without someone to guide you your power will grow until you can do nothing to rein it in. You'll bring pain and destruction wherever you go. We're the only ones who can help you, Sierra. Remember that.'

‘Just go,' Sierra said. ‘Just go, Rasten, or I'll kill you where you stand.'

He laughed, a humourless chuckle, and cast a shield of flame over himself. ‘If you could do that you'd have done it already,' he said. Veiled in flame he turned and walked away, blood seeping from the wound in his back and staining the white leather of his coat black in the moonlight.

Sierra crouched at Isidro's side but when she reached for him he pushed her hands away. ‘Cam,' he said through bloodless lips. ‘Help Cam.'

Still trembling she ran for the river, where Cam lay in a pool of icy water with his lips blue and frost glittering in his hair. Pulling off her gloves, Sierra dug her bare fingers into his neck to feel for a pulse. His heartbeat was a faint and irregular flutter, like a dying moth beating against her palm.

‘Black Sun help me,' she muttered, hands hovering over his still form. Rasten had warmed her from this state but she had only a vague idea of how he had done it.

Isidro heaved himself up and staggered unsteadily towards her. ‘Sirri.'

‘Just let me think!' she hissed. ‘I don't want to kill him!' Her forearm throbbed with a sympathetic echo of Isidro's pain. The burning in her wrist and shoulder where Rasten had locked her arm behind her back, however, was all her own.

Isidro sat heavily at Cam's head. ‘He's already dead.'

Biting back on her snarled reply Sierra ripped aside the tatters of Cam's shirt, slapped her palms against him and loosed a bolt of energy into his chest. Jagged cords of power swarmed through him and Sierra felt them wrapping around his heart. He was cold, so very cold.

‘Sierra —' Isidro pleaded.

‘Just wait!' Sierra snapped. ‘I don't dare give him any more. I want to warm his blood, not boil it.' After an interminable moment his heart lurched beneath her hands and roused to a slow and erratic pulse.

A wave of pain swept through him as sensation returned and his nerves awoke with a rush that made Sierra's power spike. He moaned, and began to shiver violently, more alive now than dead.

‘Cam!' Isidro said, reaching over to shake him. ‘Cam!'

Cam opened his eyes, bleary and unfocussed with no hint of recognition. They were, Sierra realised, an extraordinary shade of green, quite rare in Ricalan. The strain of channelling the power and keeping it steady was draining her and as the adrenaline of the fight faded her muscles were trembling with fatigue.

Cam drew a deep, shuddering breath and tried to sit up. He pushed Sierra away and wrapped his tattered furs around him but not before she saw the red marks her palms had left on his chest and the smear of blood as his wounds began to seep. He made a groan of pain as his shirt rubbed against the burns and he hunched within the fur, still shivering.

She helped him shift away from the water and dried his clothes with a pulse of power and the sudden reek of scorched wool. Then she and Isidro pressed close around him, wrapping their coats over his to pool their warmth. Sierra kept channelling power into him but it was still a few minutes before Cam was recovered enough to speak through chattering teeth. ‘W-where's R-Rasten?'

‘Gone,' Sierra said. ‘Isidro stabbed him in the back and he knows he can't take me if he's feeding me power.'

‘F-f-f-fatal?' Cam stammered.

‘Doubt it,' Isidro replied.

‘It didn't feel like a mortal wound,' Sierra said.

‘C-c-can he heal it? He's a s-sorcerer, after all.'

Sierra shook her head. ‘It doesn't work that way. You can't heal a wound with power.'

Cam turned to Isidro and saw for the first time that his brother's face was white with pain. ‘What happened?'

‘Rasten stomped on his arm. The splints saved him from the worst of it, but …'

‘Can't you do something?'

‘Better not,' Isidro said, his voice hoarse. ‘She might need the power before the night is out.'

‘Can you stand?' Sierra asked Cam. ‘You'll warm up faster walking and you and Issey need to head back.'

Cam's hand tightened around hers. ‘Not just us. You're coming, too.'

Sierra turned away. ‘I can't go back. Mira —'

‘I saw what Mira's hunters made of your gear,' Isidro said. ‘You don't have any more choice than we do.'

It was pointless to argue. She knew he was right. Her chances of survival had been slim before, but now they were non-existent.

Once on his feet, Cam squinted through the gloom to pick out the trail of blood Rasten had left in his retreat. ‘Seems a shame to let him get away,' Cam said. ‘If we had the men I'd say we run him to ground and finish the job.'

‘Don't think for a moment he's any less dangerous,' Sierra said. ‘He won't risk facing me when he's wounded but he'd make short work of anyone else.'

‘She's right, Cam.' Isidro turned to Sierra. ‘Rasten killed the other two hunters, but he made one of them talk first. This will be a disaster for Mira's clan once word gets back to Kell. She needs to be warned.' His face was deathly pale: the pain was wearing him down swiftly. Sierra could feel his strength draining. She glanced at Cam and found him looking his brother over with the same critical eye. ‘We should get moving. Sirri, where are your snowshoes?'

She jerked her head towards the site of the avalanche. The massive weight of snow and rock was still pressing the ice into the lake; at the site where Rasten had punched through the ice to drag her out the water level had already risen enough to spill over the top of the ice. ‘Lost. I'll have to rig something to get back to the camp.' The cord Rasten had intended to use to bind her wrists lay on the scuffed snow and she stooped to snatch it up.

Cam went to a nearby pine to cut a pair of branches for Sierra to use as makeshift snowshoes while she stayed with Isidro, watching over him while he rested.

Crouched on his heels, Isidro scrubbed at his face with his good hand. When he closed his eyes he swayed dangerously and Sierra grabbed for his shoulder to steady him. ‘Isidro, you have to let me help.'

‘No,' he insisted with a shake of his head. ‘You might need it.'

‘I still get power from it, you know. Maybe not quite as much, but it'll be enough to deal with anything that comes up.' Even as she spoke the power she was taking from him was roaring in her ears. Her whole body ached from the effort of containing it. At this rate, by the time they made it back to Mira's camp she would be overflowing.

Sierra touched her bare hand to Isidro's cheek. ‘You're cold, Issey,' she
said and pulled the cowl hanging around his neck up to cover his ears. ‘Don't you have a hat?'

He fumbled in the front of his coat. ‘Somewhere. Couldn't get it on with one hand.'

Sierra put it on for him, pulling it down to his eyebrows and then settling the hood and wrap of his coat over it all. It reminded her keenly of doing the same for her younger brothers and sisters. Isidro would normally refuse this kind of fuss but now he just closed his eyes and submitted without complaint. ‘Sirri?' he said. ‘Don't let me fall asleep.'

She touched her face to his, forehead to forehead, nose to nose. The pain that refused to let him rest was no match for the creeping somnolence of hypothermia. ‘We won't,' she said. ‘I promise.'

When Cam returned Sierra borrowed his knife to cut the cord in half, and bound the branches to the soles of her boots. The bushy twigs would splay out to spread her weight over the surface of the snow.

‘Come on, brother,' Cam said, taking Isidro's good hand and hauling him to his feet.

Sierra created a globe of light and held it up to light their path. ‘I'll take the lead,' she said. ‘Let's just hope there are no more surprises heading our way.'

 

Someone in Mira's camp must have realised Cam and Isidro were gone because her men met them on the trail near where Rasten had killed the hunters and herded the three of them back to the camp under a tight guard. A pair of crossbowmen took up position at Sierra's back, making the skin between her shoulder blades tingle with unpleasant anticipation despite the shield she cast beneath her coat.

At the camp they were whisked through the ring of sentries and into Mira's tent, but not before Sierra saw three sleds pulled up nearby, each man-sized load covered with an oil-cloth wrap.

Mira was waiting for them along with a man Sierra hadn't seen at the cache, a tall fellow with the typical black hair of a Ricalani, although his features showed some influence of southern blood. Rhia was also there and she immediately went to Isidro, helping him across the tent to settle into a chair. Still in her outer fur, the warmth of the tent made Sierra sweat but as Isidro collapsed into the chair he continued to shiver. Even
as exhausted as he was, the awful, gnawing pain in his arm wouldn't let him be still.

The crossbowmen had followed them in and the anxiety of having them at her back was making it difficult to keep her power under control. She could feel it clawing at her skin, searching for any point of weakness in its cage. The men watching her were nervous. If she did spark they might well shoot at her out of reflex. If she had to use her power to stop the bolt it could trigger a chain of events that would end in disaster for everyone here.

‘Issey,' Sierra pleaded, hunkering down beside him. ‘You have to let me help you. We're safe here. Rasten won't dare come after me in a camp full of people.'

He swung his head her way and when he spoke his voice was a hoarse whisper. ‘It's not Rasten I'm worried about now.' They were shielded from Mira's view by Rhia's hovering form but Sierra saw his eyes flick in her direction.

Sierra leaned closer and lowered her voice. ‘I'm reaching the limit of what I can hold. I've got more than enough to deal with any other surprises that come my way. Issey, please, I can't bear this any longer!'

With a sigh he bowed his head and offered her his good hand. Sierra swiftly stripped off his mitten and glove and then bared her own hand to make the link. The numbness that swept through his arm was a relief for them both and Isidro finally slumped back in the chair and fell so still that Rhia quickly leaned forward to check his breathing. ‘What happened to him?' she demanded.

‘Rasten stomped on his arm. I heard something go crack. I hoped it was just the splints.'

Rhia gave her a hard look. ‘Most likely it was. There's nothing left in his arm big enough to break.' She laid her hand against his pallid cheek. ‘He should be lying down. Help me.'

Isidro caught her wrist. ‘Not yet. There are things we need to talk about. Mira …'

Mira had drawn herself up to deliver a blistering address but the sight of him had stolen her voice. When he said her name, though, she composed herself and came over to him. ‘Hush, Issey, you should rest. What on earth possessed you to go off like that?'

‘Trying to keep you from making a mistake,' he rasped. ‘Too late. Rasten killed your hunters. He knows you sent them after Sierra.'

Mira gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth as the colour drained from her face. Behind her, the man Sierra didn't know swore beneath his breath.

‘You've brought a whole new world of trouble down on yourself and your clan, Mira,' Isidro went on. ‘If you've got any sense you'll call a truce with Sierra until you can set it right.'

In the stunned silence that followed his words Cam went to the table behind the stove, poured bowls of hot tea from the kettle simmering over the coals and handed them around. Sierra caught his eye and nodded her thanks, wrapping her cold hands around the bowl to savour the warmth.

‘A truce?' Mira spluttered. ‘That's out of the question! She broke her word never to return. She murdered my men!'

‘Murdered? They were trying to kill me!' Sierra snapped. ‘And believe me, I wouldn't be here if I had anywhere else to go. But your men settled that when they destroyed my gear!'

Mira gaped at her for a moment. ‘What do you mean, they destroyed your gear?'

‘One of the men doused her sled in oil and set it alight,' Cam said. ‘She's got nothing now but the clothes she stands up in.'

That wasn't entirely true. They'd stopped by her abandoned sled and Sierra had picked up Kell's book and the enchantments she had been wearing when she made her escape, all of which had been protected from the flames by the power they held. They were hidden under her coat.

For the first time since their arrival, Mira's anger faltered and she turned to swap a glance with her companion.

‘That wretched Pillepor always had a fondness for oil and tinder,' he muttered. ‘The war-leader warned me about him when he left for the muster.'

With a shake of her head, Mira dismissed the matter. ‘The laws are clear. A sorcerer who practises his power must be put to death and as a representative of my clan I'm bound to uphold them.' To Sierra, she said, ‘It's nothing personal.'

‘Nothing personal?' Sierra said incredulously. She clenched her fists, trying to keep control, but realised at once that it was a mistake. Her power leapt in response to her anger and it burst from her skin in a blaze of blue light, crackling like fire in dry grass and showering blue sparks onto the trampled spruce at her feet.

Startled, Mira jumped back while the man cursed and shoved her behind him as he drew the knife from his belt. Shouting, the two guards stepped forward with crossbows raised, while Cam pushed himself between them and Sierra. He grabbed her by the arm hard enough to make her realise just how much tension he was concealing. ‘Stop it!' he shouted. ‘For the love of life, get yourself under control!'

‘I'm trying!' she snarled back. ‘But by the Black Sun, you're not helping!'

Muttering, he let her go, but kept himself between her and the crossbows. With a wrench of effort Sierra pulled the power back beneath her skin, but it refused to stay there. With every beat of her heart fat blue sparks swelled out of her skin to writhe and course over her body. Sierra tried to calm and focus her mind the way Rasten had taught her, but it wasn't easy and she was getting tired of the way everyone stared at her.

In the shocked silence that followed, Isidro spoke again. ‘Mira, Ardamon. Just think for a moment. Dremman might be able to buy himself and the clan out of a charge of treason, but when word of this reaches the king he won't accept any deal that doesn't include your head on a platter. Do you understand?'