Heart of Black Ice

by Terry Goodkind

  As he listened to the breeze, the creaking canvas and wood, the whisper of waves and the snores of the Norukai, he heard a different sound, a wet scuffling, as of something slithering up the hull. Next to him, Lila became instantly alert. She twisted herself upright and strained against the ropes around her wrists.

  Bannon felt an icy trickle of terror when he saw a shadow appear at the rail, slip over, and drop to the deck. Another silhouette followed a moment later.

  Sudden shouts of alarm erupted from the two nearby ships. From their decks he heard the ring of steel and hard blows, the clamor of fighting. Bannon lurched to his feet and tugged on his chain. Lila stood close to him like a cornered guard dog.

  The Norukai roused themselves and grabbed their weapons, ready for battle. Bannon saw a third scaly figure climb over the side and land on the deck, moving as swiftly as a flash of minnows darting away in a stream. Five other creatures appeared, their bodies glistening with water and slime. They had large eyes and wide mouths full of needle-sharp teeth, and gill slits like wet wounds along their necks. Their webbed hands were tipped with powerful claws.

  “Selka…” Bannon’s stomach twisted, and then he yelled at the top of his lungs, “The selka!” The chain burned his ankle, and he wrestled with the ropes on his wrists. He snapped at the scrambling Norukai. “Free us! I don’t want to die here like a gutted fish. Let me at least fight them!” He knew what the selka would do.

  Lila grimaced as she twisted her wrists and more blood flowed down her forearms. “I won’t let them kill you, boy, at least not without a fight.”

  Roused, the raiders grabbed battle-axes, war hammers, and curved swords as the selka swarmed the ship. The sea people were greenish gray, but their fins had splashes of color, some with jagged stripes, others with a tinge of blue. They flung themselves in among the Norukai, slashing with claws, ripping open broad chests.

  One selka grasped a Norukai woman’s forearm and bit down viciously. The fangs crunched through the skin and bone, severing the hand so that the woman’s sword clattered to the deck. As if she didn’t even feel the pain, the Norukai swung back her arm and punched the bloody stump into the selka’s face, gouging out its slitted eye with the jagged end of bone.

  Three at a time, the selka fell upon individual raiders and ripped them to pieces, slashing out throats, yanking off scarred jaws, cracking open chests to feed on red quivering hearts. But the Norukai killed many selka as well. King Grieve swung his war axe, decapitating two creatures in a single stroke. The wide mouths gaped on the rolling heads like fish drying under the sun.

  Chalk darted about the deck, a pale scarecrow in the starlight. He flailed his hands. “Fish people. Fish people! I don’t want to be eaten by fish!”

  With a sweep of his massive arm, Grieve pushed the shaman back toward the water barrels near the bow. “Protect yourself, Chalk. Stay behind me.”

  The slaves ducked into shelter wherever they could find it, rattling their chains, desperate to get free. Bannon yanked his leg, and the anchor bolt wobbled in the wood, but he couldn’t pull the leg iron loose.

  One female selka looked more majestic than the others, with a spatter of leopard spots on her golden-green scales. She flashed her bright gaze across the Norukai as if a banquet had just been served. Bannon recognized the selka queen.

  A Norukai warrior ran toward her, swinging a spiked mace, but the queen hooked a sharp claw under his chin like a fisherman snagging a carp. She lifted him bodily off the deck and flung him overboard as if she were discarding garbage.

  Closer to Bannon and Lila, one brawny male selka stalked up to the captives, extending claws in his webbed hands. Seeing them bound and struggling, the selka closed in to kill them.

  With a cry of effort, Lila at last freed her wrists and flung the rope away. As the male selka prowled closer, she seized the chain at her ankle and hauled with all her might. The bolt came free of the deck with a splintering crack. She uprooted the chain just as the selka charged at them, and that was all the weapon she needed. She swung the rattling links to smash the sharp bolted end into the creature’s face. He clapped webbed hands against his mangled mouth, snarling and burbling. Lila whipped the chain again into the side of his head, crushing his temple. The selka fell in a pool of slime and blood at her feet.

  Glancing around, she dropped to her knees next to Bannon. Lila worked at the bindings at his wrists, clawing the thick knot until her fingernails were bloody, and finally the rope came free. He flexed his arms, ready to use his fists if nothing else, but the anchor bolt still held his chain to the deck.

  Three more selka approached, snarling and ready to kill Lila to avenge the selka she had just slain. Bannon jerked against the bolt, ignoring the rush of pain that raced through his ankle and up his leg. The heavy pin began to wobble loose.

  With the selka closing in on her, Lila spun, holding her own chain to defend Bannon. He tugged at the loose links, rocking the bolt, feeling the wood splinter. “Almost … almost!”

  As Lila swung the chain back and forth, the bolt whistled through the air and the selka recoiled. With a mighty heave, Bannon finally uprooted his chain, and he was so surprised that he stumbled to his knees.

  Now the selka turned to him as well.

  Unexpectedly, the selka queen glided closer, sleek and strangely beautiful. She let out a scolding hiss and snapped orders to her followers. “Not this one.” She fixed her golden eyes on Bannon and insisted, “Not this one.” She extended one clawed forefinger toward him and added, “I remember.”

  The three selka warriors cowered, backing away, while the queen bounded toward the Norukai. The rest of the selka left the bound slaves alone, satisfied with many other victims to kill.

  King Grieve roared as he hacked at the attackers with his war axe. He continued to fight, drenched with blood and slime. Dead sea people lay all around the deck. Chalk huddled among the barrels and crates near the front of the serpent ship. “My Grieve, King Grieve! I will grieve!”

  Gnashing her teeth, clacking her jaws, a Norukai woman bounded forward to intercept the queen. “I will gut you, bitch!” She strode past the slaves as if they didn’t exist at all.

  Bannon lashed out with his uprooted chain, caught the Norukai woman around her thick leg, and drove her to the deck. She writhed in astonishment and lunged for Bannon, but he swung the chain and caught her on the side of the head, caving in her skull. She grunted, then wilted to the deck as blood leaked from her ears and mouth.

  The selka queen saw what he had done and let out a hiss that might have been appreciation. Lila also noticed. “Don’t flirt with her, boy.”

  The selka queen chose the brawny Norukai king as her next target. She prowled forward with feral beauty, as graceful as death. When Grieve saw her, he also recognized his main opponent. With a heavy swing, he buried his axe in the chest of a nearby selka. The curved blade dug deep, cracked bone, and Grieve pressed his boot on the creature’s chest to rip his weapon free.

  He faced the queen. Four selka warriors flanked her, pressing closer, and Grieve made his stand near the confined wedge of the bow. The serpent god figurehead stared out into the darkness.

  All along the deck, selka and Norukai fought and killed and died, turning the scrubbed boards into a bloody quagmire. Grieve snapped his scarred jaws and glared at the selka queen. She, in turn, splayed a webbed handful of claws, and crouched, unafraid of his great axe. All of the selka prepared to spring at the same time, and they would tear the king apart. Grieve cocked back his massive arm to fight to the death.

  Suddenly, a pale figure streaked between them. Chalk yelled, waving his hands. Tears streaked his white face. “No, no! You can’t have my Grieve. My king!” He threw himself in front of the selka queen, unarmed, defenseless.

  With a quick slash, she hooked her claws into Chalk’s abdomen below the navel, then in a flash tugged brutally upward, laying him open from his groin to his breastbone like a gutted fish. Chalk’s entrails and organs slithered out o
f the wide wound, and he dropped to his knobby knees, gurgling, “My Grieve…”

  The Norukai king’s scarred mouth dropped open in utter disbelief. “Chalk!”

  Bannon felt sickened and horrified. He loathed the scarred albino, but even so …

  With a second gesture, the selka queen ripped out Chalk’s throat, and she hurled him to the deck like a bloody white rag.

  “No!” The word was ripped from Grieve’s throat and heart as if his entire universe had just ended. “Nooo!”

  In a mindless blood rage, he lunged forward, and the surviving Norukai joined him, redoubling their efforts to fight.

  CHAPTER 46

  “There is no more time,” Zimmer announced, and everyone in Cliffwall knew he was right. More D’Haran scouts had returned with the expected news that the marching army was already crossing the fertile valley and leaving devastation in their wake.

  “No doubt about it, sir,” said the dust-covered young man who ran up to issue his report. “General Utros is heading straight for these canyons.” He wiped sweat from his forehead. “They intend to take Cliffwall.”

  “Ava told them exactly where to find us,” Verna said, her nostrils flaring.

  Nathan had gone without sleep since the first emergency meeting, and he suspected it would be a long time before he got a good night’s rest again. He turned to Verna. “It’s time to evacuate the families and scholars to safety, while some of us remain to make a last stand. With our layers of new defenses, maybe we can save Cliffwall.”

  Throughout the sheltered canyon, the ungifted workers had packed whatever possessions they could carry. Many complained at having to abandon everything they had worked so hard to create.

  “We can’t just leave it all behind,” said one shepherd trying to chase his flock to the end of the box canyon, where steep paths wound upward to the high plateau.

  Nathan shook his head. “Save your family. You will have to rebuild, but you can’t rebuild if you’re not alive.” The shepherd stubbornly kept chasing his sheep.

  Nathan walked along, touching the ornate sword at his hip. From the Cliffwall stores he had found new garments, acquiring a deep blue vest that matched the azure of his eyes. He even found a fine traveling cape that he thought matched his demeanor as an adventurer.

  Men and women climbed down the stone steps or wooden ladders from the cliff alcoves, moving with a sense of urgency and sadness. Parents led their children up the canyon to the winding paths by which they could reach the highlands. Thorn and Lyesse accompanied them as watchful guardians.

  The D’Haran soldiers drilled constantly and developed pragmatic ways to hold the bottleneck opening to the canyon. General Zimmer and the wizards were still confident they could stop the enemy. Trenchers dug pits, erected spiked barricades, and laid down numerous hidden traps. Soldiers scaled the cliffs and set up caches of stones that they could hurl down on the ancient army from above.

  Ava’s spirit was seen, flitting into the canyon, spying on them, but Olgya had worked with countless gifted apprentices, teaching them distortion spells, masking spells, even raising fog banks to confuse the surveillance of the evil spirit.

  Perri, the gifted shaper, followed some of the agile soldiers up the cliff above the bottleneck opening, and she manipulated the stone to form perfect handholds and footholds. Ten D’Haran soldiers stationed themselves in hiding places for an ambush from high above, each man carrying a bow and a basket of arrows. They would rain down deadly projectiles as soon as the invaders approached the sheer cliffs that blocked the entrance. Oron, Olgya, and Leo discussed ways in which they could use their magic to fight back.

  As she and Nathan watched the preparations, the prelate drew her mouth into a tight frown. “If your handful of defenders can keep the canyon safe, then I will be relieved.” She sighed. “And completely surprised. If you should fail, Nathan, I am fully prepared to bring down the cliffs and obliterate this dangerous library. I have studied how to use the Weeping Stone spell. That will seal off the entire archive to make sure the knowledge never, ever falls into enemy hands.”

  He shuddered at the metal in her gaze. “Be very careful, my dear prelate. We’ve seen how powerful magic can burn like a wildfire out of control.”

  She gave him a skeptical frown. “You mean Elbert and the ruined prophecy building? We saw what happened when an untrained novice got out of his depth. I have a bit more experience than that.” Verna softened her expression, reached out to touch Nathan’s shoulder. “But yes, I will be careful.”

  They climbed the narrow stone path to the large primary archive. Inside the buildings and tunnels, scholars were frantically sorting the most important documents, while memmers opened the chosen volumes and scanned them, impressing more and more words upon their memories.

  Franklin could not decide which volumes to salvage, because there were so many. “We have to leave soon, but what am I to do? We have only cataloged a fraction of the books. How do we even know which are the best ones?” He ran both hands through his brown hair. “When Simon was killed, I became the scholar-archivist, but I never knew I would face a decision like this. Historical chronicles will record my name as the man who let Cliffwall be destroyed. What was it all for?”

  “We’re doing it to save the world,” Verna said. “It is not a useless gesture.”

  Nathan forced a bright tone in his words. “If we can deflect that gigantic army, then we won’t have to destroy the archive, and all the people can return home to a happy celebration.”

  Prelate Verna snorted. She joined the eight Sisters of the Light who pored over the segregated books of dangerous magic, hoping to learn new spells they could use to attack General Utros. They had already discovered several techniques they wanted to try, but time was running out.

  Young Amber looked flushed and overwhelmed. She stared at several books spread out in front of her, but couldn’t decide which one to read first. “Now I know what my brother felt when his commander left him behind to defend Renda Bay. He only had fifty soldiers, too.”

  “He had more than that, my dear,” Nathan said, trying to calm her. “He had ingenuity, and the people of Renda Bay were motivated to fight back against the Norukai. We’re also fighting back.” He wrapped his new cape around his shoulders, feeling the fine fabric. “Admittedly, Utros’s army is a lot larger than any raid the Norukai ever sent against Renda Bay.…”

  Amber nodded. “If Norcross could do it, then so can I. I miss my brother. Do you think we’ll ever see him again?”

  Nathan gave her a reassuring smile. “Of course we will.”

  “Provided we survive the next two days,” Verna corrected.

  “Always the pessimist.” Nathan sniffed.

  She was not amused. “As I’ve said many times before, I am a realist. For today, our main effort is to ensure that all of these people get to safety. Only the fighters—the soldiers and the gifted—shall remain behind.”

  “We will make our best defense,” Nathan said. “Do you need to study your Weeping Stone spell, or are you confident you have every aspect memorized?”

  “I am confident, and I have the sorcerer’s sand,” Verna said. “If your defenses do fail, then—and only then—I will use the spell to bring down the cliffside.” She gave him a hard smile. “I promise I will wait until the last moment, but if I do need to trigger the spell, I’ll also be sure to wipe out as many of those soldiers as I can.”

  CHAPTER 47

  The selka queen tore Chalk apart and discarded his body in a puddle of his internal organs.

  King Grieve went berserk.

  He became a glassy-eyed, rage-filled monster. He roared without words, a primal sound that would have made wolves shudder. Grieve swung his war axe in one hand and yanked out his gutting knife with the other. In one blow he cleaved the head of the nearest selka, and the queen sprang back like a graceful fish, splaying claws still dripping with Chalk’s blood. Her long hiss might have been taunting laughter.

  She la
nded nimbly on soft webbed feet out of the weapon’s reach. Grieve charged at her like a mad bull, practically hurling the axe from side to side, but she dodged and slipped out of the way.

  Bannon sometimes slipped into a red haze on the battlefield, which turned him into a fighting machine, a whirlwind of strength and sword. Afterward, he had no memory of what he had done, but when he did come back to himself he would see the bodies of his numerous victims, and he would be alive, although battered with a hundred injuries that he couldn’t recall.

  Now Grieve was in the same kind of frenzy.

  Three selka closed in on the king to take him down, but in a fury he chopped off their limbs or heads. Grieve flung his gutting knife directly at the queen, but she bent backward in a flash. The blade slipped past, barely nicking her scaled chest, and embedded itself in the broad back of a Norukai who was fighting another selka. The Norukai reached behind him, pawed at the dagger as if wondering how it could possibly have appeared there, and his selka opponent used the opportunity to tear out his throat.

  Amid the shouts, screams, and clashing swords on the deck of the Norukai ship, Bannon now stood free, his wrists unbound and the leg-iron chain loose around his ankle. He was ready to fight to the death, knowing he would likely not survive this massacre.

  Lila barely took a moment to catch her breath. Eager to fight, she snatched a curved sword from a severed arm on the deck, wrenching it free from clenched fingers. She kicked the flopping limb away and raised the blade. She snapped at Bannon, “Arm yourself, boy! Even if the selka queen doesn’t want to kill you, the Norukai do.”

  With the chain scraping behind him on the deck boards, Bannon ran to another dead raider in a pool of blood and relieved him of his sword. He swung the weapon to get the feel of it. “It’s not Sturdy, but it’ll do.” He liked the weight of this steel in his hand, heard the swish of its edge cutting through the air.