Wicked As You Wish

by Rin Chupeco

  “And this does nothing to you?” Tala snapped, angry at how calm he sounded. This must have been a vibrant city. There should have been shops and schools and houses filled with life and people. The Snow Queen had turned it into a wasteland. “All these people dead by your queen’s hand, and you don’t feel anything?”

  Ryker sighed. “What do you want me to feel? Regret? Guilt? I don’t have any of those to spare anymore. I made my decision, and I’m bound to it.”

  Tala turned away. “You’re a monster.”

  “If I were a monster, I would have let you drown back in the swamps.”

  “And that’s the difference between us. You think one act of kindness, even self-serving, is enough to not make you one.”

  They walked across the bridge, but something broke into the growing silence.

  “What the hell is that?” Tala strained her ears. It sounded—it almost definitely sounded like a roar.

  Ryker’s demeanor changed; now he was wary, on edge. Worried. “Why is it here?”

  “Why is what here?”

  The ogre lumbering out of the front gate gave her the answer. It must have been here for some time; icicles grew along its sides like barnacles, and stalactites jutted down from its arms. It took one look at them both, threw its head back, and screamed again.

  Tala backpedaled immediately.

  “Stop!” Ryker shouted. “You will obey me!”

  The ogre ignored him. It took another heavy step forward, and then another. Hands clenched and teeth bared, it loped toward them with startling speed.

  “I said stop!” Ryker commanded again, but Tala was already barreling into him, shoving them both out of harm’s way as the ogre drove its fists into the ground where he’d been standing.

  “There’s something wrong with it,” Ryker rasped, struggling to his feet with some difficulty.

  “Ya think?”

  The firebird struggled out of her pack and flew up into the sky.

  “Get back!” Tala yelled at it, but the bird only looped effortlessly through the air and shot several arrows of fire at the hulking beast.

  The ogre swiped at it with an arm, and an unexpected hail of ice followed with the movement, sending them all tumbling back. The firebird took the brunt of the attack; it sailed over Tala and crashed into the palace courtyard.

  Tala swore and followed.

  “Wait, Tala!”

  The ogre attempted to swat at her again, but Tala clapped her hands before her. The hail struck within range of her agimat, and everything around them exploded.

  When the smoke lifted, Tala was stunned to find herself upright and uninjured, save for a ringing in her ears. Something was burning. Whatever had ricocheted off her agimat had taken out another section of wall, black smoke snaking upward.

  The ogre was on its back, struggling to stand, and she ran past it into the compound. The firebird was lying on top of a large, debris-riddled snowdrift, and cooed weakly when Tala reached its side.

  “Stop showing off, you dolt,” Tala scooped it up, relieved to see that it was dazed but uninjured. “You’re exactly like your master.”

  It stuck its tongue out at her.

  “See?”

  Behind her, she could hear more cracking sounds. Ryker had removed his bound ropes and was sending thick icicles through the ogre, puncturing it repeatedly in the chest. “Why won’t you listen to me?” he shouted.

  The ogre’s hand came down on a nearby tower, dislodging an avalanche of snow that rained down on them. Ryker flicked his wrist upward, and the snowslide stopped in midair above him while whipping more knife-sharp icicles the ogre’s way. The creature sank down, bleeding black.

  Ryker didn’t stop until it was finally an unmoving, broken form before him. “I couldn’t control it,” he finally said. “I should have.”

  “Maybe you’re not as good as you think you are,” Tala suggested sarcastically.

  He frowned at her. “You don’t understand. If I couldn’t manipulate it, then that means it wasn’t under the Snow Queen’s control to begin with. And that’s impossible, she has control over all the nightwalkers, unless…”

  He turned to the firebird cradled in Tala’s arms, now angry. “Is this your doing?”

  The firebird lifted its head weakly, gave Ryker a careful once-over, and then blew him a raspberry.

  “No. It wasn’t your doing. But…” He paused, anger marring his features. “Of course. I should have known. It explains why the ogre hasn’t destroyed more of the city. How did your master do it?” Ice formed atop his palm, changing shape until he was holding a long, thin blade. “Who did he bargain with? The sea witch? The Baba Yaga? I wanted to see Tala safely out of Avalon, and that’s the only reason you’re still free. But our deal is over. I’m sorry, Tala. I’m going to take the firebird now.”

  “Like hell you will,” Tala said, holding the firebird closer to her chest. She stepped away from him, and he followed.

  “Look, I let you bind my hands as proof that I wasn’t lying, and that I’m never going to hurt you. But you have to understand. The firebird was created as a weapon. And in the wrong hands, it can cause a lot of destruction.”

  “And you think the Snow Queen won’t use it to destroy more kingdoms like she did Avalon?” She was almost there. The heavy snow, still suspended in the air by Ryker’s will, was directly above her.

  “Tala,” Ryker pleaded. “Things aren’t always what they appear. In Alex’s hands, it can cause even more devastation. I’m here to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  “And I’m only here to make sure you don’t succeed.” Tala directed all her strength upward. There was a faint shimmer as her curse overcame Ryker’s barrier, the latter fading. “I’m sorry, Ryker. But I can’t let you do this.”

  She darted the few steps needed to get out of its way, but Ryker wasn’t as quick to react.

  The avalanche landed on him.

  The firebird wriggled out of her arms and flew past the open palace doors.

  “Wait!” There were no signs of movement within the fresh mound. Tala didn’t look to see if he was all right. It would only make matters worse.

  “I made my decision too, Ryker,” she muttered, and plunged through the doors after the firebird.

  * * *

  Ken kept feeling his face, waiting for his eyes to bulge out, or his skin to feel like rubber. He’d only been a frog a few hours, and technically he didn’t remember anything of his time there, but he remembered…sensations. Sliminess, mostly, the idea that his current human body felt somehow wrong to him still, coupled with a general sense of ick. It sucked ass.

  “That’s not going to help, you know,” West reminded him as they rode. “It’s not something that you can con…conshoo…it’s not something that you can change by thinking about it.”

  “I’d like to make sure, anyway.” Ken touched his nose, his mind cringing at the memory. “How can you stand that? All that shifting? I would have gone insane long ago.”

  “It gets easier the more you practice.”

  “I don’t want to practice, West,” Ken said with a shudder. “I’d be happy if I never had to do anything like that again.”

  “Why?” Nya asked, who was riding behind him.

  “I was a bloody frog for nearly four hours. Do you even have to ask why?”

  She shrugged. “I saw someone risking his life to save his friends, knowing the toads might still been hanging about, ready to attack. Don’t know what there is to want to forget.”

  Ken looked at her. Nya looked back, rather solemn, though the beginnings of a smile were tweezing out the corners of her mouth.

  “I am serious, though,” the girl continued. “I think that was very brave of you and your friends.”

  “Says the girl who threw pepper at ice wolves without knowing who we were, or what s
he was getting into,” Ken countered, grinning at the memory. Then the grin faded. “You wouldn’t be thinking that if you knew what happened back in Ikpe.”

  “And that was?”

  “There was a girl in your village. Iniko.” Ken took a deep breath. He’d rather he never talk about it again, but there was something about Nya that made it very easy to open up, even when she was at her most annoying. “The Deathless had gotten to her. I had to…knock her out, for a little bit. Except I don’t know if she’s going to get better. Someone must have seen me dancing with her earlier, talking. She was a target because of me.”

  “You didn’t know. I don’t think even Grammy did.” Nya sighed. “I know Iniko. Prettiest girl in the village. Boys always fell all over each other trying to catch her attention, so I’m not surprised she took your eye. But you feeling guilty about it doesn’t make you at fault. It just makes things really unfortunate. We all knew living with the frost had its perils. But sometimes the danger takes on different shapes we never realized. I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah. Thanks. You’re not half-bad yourself.”

  A blush came over the girl’s face. Ken couldn’t resist.

  “But only if you get past all the stubbornness. Granted, I didn’t spot that immediately when we first met, since there was a falling basin heading for my face at around the same time, but for a girl who’s been holed up in a village for over a decade, Rapunzel, you don’t look half as decrepit as—”

  Then Ken had to duck, laughing, as Nya bent to scoop up handfuls of snow to lob at his head.

  “Will you guys shut up for like ten seconds?” Alex asked tartly from somewhere to their left, sounding disgusted. The boy looked thinner and paler. He had spent most of the ride to the capital without a word, his eyes closed.

  “I can’t help it. I have to talk about it. If I keep it bottled up inside, I’m going to explode.”

  “I can turn people into frogs,” Alex said, still sounding irritated. “I’ve had the curse since I was five, and there’s no known counterspell for it. And since it’s temporary, I don’t see why you should keep moaning about it.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Ken shot back, stung. “You should see it from this side of the curse. Would have appreciated a heads-up about it too, because I had no bloody idea I was going to sprout webby toes for a good chunk of the day.”

  “Was that going to stop you from giving me CPR when I fell through the ice?”

  “Well, of course not, but—”

  “Then why should it matter?”

  “Of all of the…” Ken was ready to go off, prince or not, but Loki was tugging quietly on his sleeve.

  “Just ignore him,” they said quietly. “We’ll be at Maidenkeep within half an hour.”

  That was true enough. The castle was so close, Ken had wanted to race the rest of the way there, except Loki had also advised caution. There might be more nightwalkers lying in wait, and the last thing they needed were tired horses and misplaced optimism.

  “He’s insufferable, is what he is,” Ken groused. “I can understand why he’s pissed about Zoe and Locksley, but that doesn’t give him the right to wail on the rest of us.”

  “In shifting ice, a prince you’ll kiss,” Nya said, “and the first shall be forgiven.”

  “What?” Ken asked.

  “What?” Alex asked, slowly turning in his saddle to stare at the girl.

  “It was something Grammy said frequently. I only remembered it now because that’s what happened, right? You kissed a prince in shifting ice. I don’t really know what’s there to forgive, though. Grammy said it was part of a prophecy, though she said she didn’t really know what it means either. How’d the rest of it go again? The sword rises twice from palace stone, and the—”

  “Shut up!” Alex shouted.

  Nya paused, her mouth open. The prince rounded on her, nearly beside himself with unexpected rage. “You are never to repeat those words ever again,” he practically snarled. “Swear it!”

  “But—”

  “I said, swear it!”

  “All right, Your Highness,” Nya said hastily. “If that’s what you wish.”

  Alex glared at her for a few more seconds before turning back again.

  “What did you say?” West whispered. “Why did he get mad at you like that?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Either he’s a damn git,” Ken said, “or he’s in the middle of a very nervous breakdown.”

  “Let’s not make things worse,” Loki murmured. “From now until we enter Lyonesse, I expect everyone to be on their best behavior regardless of what else His Highness decides to throw at you.”

  “Fine, fine.” Ken made a show of taking something out of his mouth and throwing it in the air before them. “See? This is me, tossing out all my negativity as far as I can—”

  An explosion racked Maidenkeep, nearly sending Ken off his saddle. They all stared as the smoke cleared, as a smaller series of shock waves followed after. But Alex was already moving; a swift kick to its sides sent his horse galloping hard toward the city.

  “Ken,” Loki said. “What the hell did you do?”

  * * *

  “Something’s wrong,” Cole said. They had just passed through Lyonesse’s broken gates and were driving toward the palace, or at least, where Zoe hoped the palace was. The truck seemed intent on going over every broken cobblestone and bumpy ridge the road had to offer. The seat belt was broken, so Zoe’s only option was to cling to the seat’s armrest, grimly holding on for dear life. Cole had said very little before this, with his face the closest thing to green Zoe had ever seen it, and he was the one behind the wheel.

  “How can you tell?” Zoe asked, wincing when the vehicle went over a particularly deep pothole.

  “Nightwalkers.” Grimly, Cole gestured at the Gravekeeper, which he’d placed on the dashboard. The brambles around the hilt were moving on their own, lashing angrily at the air around them. “It’s never been wrong before.”

  “Are you sure? Lyonesse’s protected by all kinds of charms, and from what I can see around us, there’s a lot of them still in place. The frost was the only thing that broached this city. Nightwalkers can’t even get within a mile of it, much less be hiding inside it.”

  “It’s never been wrong,” Cole repeated stubbornly.

  Something clattered hard against the roof of the truck.

  “Is it raining hail again?” Zoe asked, about to roll down the window to find out. Except the window had been stuck halfway down ever since they started out, and was clearly going to be stuck for the rest of the journey.

  A dark shadow stole across the upper windshield, blinked red eyes at them. It was most definitely not a hailstone.

  Swearing, Zoe drove a shoulder against her passenger door, preventing the shade from stealing in through the half-open window. The inside of the truck was too small for her to be using the Ogmios; she was going to accidentally hit Cole or herself. “Nottingham, floor it!”

  Cole very carefully laid both his injured and uninjured hands against the wheel, then stomped down hard on the accelerator.

  The truck careened cheerfully down the road, mowing down objects at random. One sharp turn sent Zoe slamming against the door, but the move was successful at dislodging the shade. Zoe could hear its shrills growing softer as they left it behind. “I stand corrected,” Zoe said ruefully, rubbing at a freshly forming bruise on her arm. “But if there are nightwalkers in these streets, do you think they’ve infiltrated the castle as well?”

  A sudden explosion nearly sent her flying out of her seat. Cole lurched forward and the truck screeched to an ungainly stop. By the time both managed to work their way back up to a sitting position, thick black smoke was visible, rising up several buildings away.

  “Never mind,” Zoe said.

  32

  In Which th
e Nine Maidens Unleash Their Power

  It used to be a feast. Now it was a rotting mess of mold and sludge; what hadn’t been consumed by rodents and insects was left to fester. Not even the cold could preserve most of the food, and the banquet spread before them appeared to have been abandoned midway through preparations. And yet the huge cauldron in one corner had been frozen completely solid, sitting on a bed of stalagmites where fire once burned.

  They hadn’t gone into much detail about this part of the war in history class, if it was even taught at all. Arizonian textbooks treated the fighting between Avalon and Beiran like it was both their faults, as if the frost was a natural and unsurprising consequence of their hostilities. Given the Royal States’ interests in both kingdoms’ spelltech, that was probably to be expected. There was a reason they’d been vicious in coming after Miss Hutchins.

  But this, the forgotten meal, a celebration cut short by tragedy, this wasn’t something most people thought of writing when they thought about war.

  The firebird alighted on the table on the off chance the cakes were still edible. It gave a tentative peck at one, and then made a disgusted sound.

  “We have to get out of here.” The lack of people did nothing to improve Tala’s nerves.

  It shook its head. It paused, listening intently to something Tala couldn’t hear. It gestured at her to follow and dashed out another door. Groaning inwardly, Tala followed.

  The firebird led her confidently through a series of rooms. Then it led her through another series of rooms that looked exactly like the ones they just left, into a very long hallway.

  “Where are we going?” Tala stepped into a narrow gallery next, portraits of fierce-looking men and women staring out at her as they passed. Golden, if slightly musty, plaques underneath the paintings bore similarly royal-sounding names. Despite their hurried pace, a few of the paintings managed to catch her eye.

  “Hyacinth of Gnomme” was a tall, statuesquely built blond man impeccably dressed in stately robes, and would have been handsome if not for his large, ungainly nose. “Pierre, the Marquis of Carabas,” a dark-haired young nobleman with sharp features and a weak chin, reclined idly against a lounge chair. A small tabby cat, in a miniature hat and a pair of black boots, curled up on an armrest, grinning. “The Bull of Norroway” turned out to be a hulk of a man with a cloak of fur on his shoulders that she recognized as similar to what West wore.