Winter's Sword

by Alexandra Little

  “Annel,” I whispered.

  My knife protruded from her neck. Her blood flowed quickly, and I felt the old magic keeping her alive slip out of her with it.

  The fouling sighed. Her eyes closed, and then the last of the old magic that had kept her spirit tied to her flesh slipped into the earth. She would not return to Tal Aesiri and be reborn as the colossi were. She was dead.

  “Thank you,” I said quietly. “I will not forget you.”

  Dhreo and the other foulings circled the ward now, whimpering.

  Father and Aerik clamored into the pit, and helped me to my feet. “Why did she do that?” Father asked. “She fell on top of your knife.”

  “Get ready,” I said instead, as the first tremors welled up from deep within the earth. Aerik and the elves waited on the sand.

  “Do you feel that?” Lorandal called.

  “You were going to do blood magic,” Dalandaras said to me.

  “I did do blood magic,” I replied quietly. “I borrowed a trick from Adhannor. Do not,” I warned as he, then Dhreo, took a step towards me. “I have taken enough punishment today.”

  “What did you do?” Father demanded as the earth shook again.

  “I linked Tal Aesiri and Tal Anor together,” I replied, and watched as the snow and rock started to swirl in the valley. “I’ve brought reinforcements.”

  CHAPTER 16

  The rumbling turned to shaking. Aerik fell to his knees. Even the elves did not hold steady. Dhreo howled, the other three foulings joining in. Their cries pierced above the grinding of stone and ice.

  My heart pained me, but I left Annel where she had fallen. Ehledrath came running up to us. “Is it the Dagnar elves?” she asked breathlessly.

  “It’s my magic,” I replied. “I’ve asked for help.”

  “Then you’d best tell the rest of us that,” she said.

  I hurried back to our makeshift town. The old magic pulsed in veins through the stones and snow and mountains. The swirls of snow grew arms and legs and torsos. The colossi materialized, dozens of them, pulled from Tal Aesiri. The undead came as well, the spirits and the flesh. Fardeth appeared, and Zarah, and the others, along the shore and among the ruins.

  “You called, Lady?” Fardeth asked.

  “Who else would have?” I replied.

  “Are we to be your army now?” she demanded.

  “You will be whatever I need you to be,” I replied. “If you wish to remain under the command of someone who will free you, then you will be my army for now.”

  She bowed her ghostly head in supplication. “Lady.”

  “Keep watch on the walls and the mountains,” I said. “Do not snarl at the humans. Keep watch for Ellsmid’s army, and the Dagnar Queen’s. If either of them kills me and takes the old magic upon themselves…I doubt they would be so kind as to free you.”

  “Lady,” she said again.

  “You summoned me, as well?” A familiar voice demanded.

  Zarah revealed herself next to Fardeth.

  “I summoned all of my creatures,” I replied calmly. “You included.”

  I heard footsteps behind me. It was Dalandaras, and Tiri.

  “Don’t,” he murmured to me. “Don’t play this game again.”

  “I have to,” I replied.

  “This is what happened to her?” Tiri whispered, her eyes wide. “This is what happened to Zarah Aros?”

  “And more besides,” I replied. “She is my prisoner now.”

  “Fardeth doesn’t realize it,” Zarah rasped. “But you can’t free us.”

  “I can.” I hoped. “And I will. But first we must stop a greater threat. And I have use for you.”

  Zarah snarled. Tiri retreated.

  “The old magic is not a pretty sight,” I said, then realized I had drawn a crowd. To everyone who was listening, I said: “Settle down for the night. Save your strength. It is the last time to rest before the battle.”

  I went to the southern wall again. Dalandaras and Tiri followed, and Aerik and Father. Lorandal and Firien had disappeared. I could have reached for them, to search them out with the old magic, but I trusted them. And I had a large enough retinue as it was.

  I sat atop the wall, and watched the river drain Tal Anor’s lake into the bay. Dalandaras tightened my cloak around me. I didn’t mind the fussing this time.

  Dhreo had taken the other foulings and gone back along the scouts’ path, sniffing their way to Ellsmid and the army. No, they hadn’t been far behind. They had placed themselves in the ruins of the city and among the crumbled boulders of the mountain I had pulled down in order to destroy the altars. They did the job I needed them to do, but they still hurt for Annel.

  “Howl for me,” I murmured. “Howl for Annel. Let your cries echo over the ruins and against the mountains.”

  The foulings obliged. Even from the walls of Tal Anor they could be heard, their mournful cries, their shared grief.

  “Well,” Tiri said calmly. “That’ll make any soldier shiver.”

  “They’re in the old city,” I replied.

  “Which ones?” Father asked.

  “Ellsmid and her army,” I replied. “She’s brought reinforcements from the south.”

  Firien and Lorandal returned then, running as fast as they could over the snow along the river. The climbed up the steep stairs outside the walls.

  “The Queen has readied her troops,” Firien reported. “But they do not advance to the ruins. They are holding separate from the humans, near Singael’s old prison, and are waiting.”

  Dalandaras nodded. “She is waiting on the humans. She won’t sacrifice her troops early or needlessly. She will see which side looks to be winning the battle.”

  “And I don’t think Ellsmid will move with the sounds of the foulings in the night air,” Father added.

  Dalandaras touched my arm. “You need sleep. Leave the restless night to Ellsmid.”

  I did as he told me. He took me to the ruins room where I had awoken after the explosion, and talked me to sleep. I woke with the dawn, the orange light filtering through the curtain. I was curled tightly against Dalandaras, and he had wrapped his arms around me. Thankfully, due to the layers of clothes between us, he had not seemed to notice the swell of my belly.

  “Whatever happens,” I whispered. “Know that I love you.”

  He arms tightened around me. “Don’t do anything foolish today.”

  I wanted to smile. “I can’t promise it.”

  “Know that I love you, then…and try.”

  I kissed him, and then got up before I made promises I couldn’t keep.

  I skipped breakfast, passed those who gathered by the bonfires at the beaches. I did as I had yesterday, touching shoulders and exchanging murmurs. At the southern wall, I sent out the foulings and the colossi.

  “Do you think Ellsmid will offer herself up to you?” Zarah asked as she conjured herself next to me.

  “Will she offer herself up to you?” I asked in return.”

  “She will be ready this time,” Zarah asserted.

  “Not much can prepare you to see your dead lover, decaying in front of you.”

  “Am I to be a large part of your plan, then? Is that what you hope, that a few ghosts and some heartache will spare the people here? They will die, Eva. They will die because of you.”

  She was right, but I accepted it. She was also right that Ellsmid wasn’t going to just hand herself over to me. This wall was sturdy, but only useful when needing to defend Tal Anor. Ellsmid was not going to walk up to the walls. She wouldn’t come down the river gorge. I would have to bring the battle to them. Damn her. Damn her and the blood we were going to spill.

  With a wave of my hand I dissipated Zarah into dust and magic, drawing her into me as I had done before. I would need her, and needed no judgment from Dalandaras about it. As I headed back to camp, the foulings and colossi gave me their answer: Ellsmid and her soldiers had gathered in the old city, nearly a thousand soldiers and their s
upport. They were arming themselves now, preparing for battle. They wore plate armor and chainmail and furs and wool. They smelled of exhaustion and unrest. The snow and ice hindered them, but there was no hesitation with their weapons, or donning their armor. Professional soldiers, all of them.

  There was no time to second-guess my use of mortals, or the colossi and undead and foulings I had summoned from Tal Aesiri.

  I had no words for Father or Dalandaras or Aerik as they helped the others dress in their chainmail and sharpen their swords. Tiri had found chainmail. It was big on her frame.

  “Are you certain?” I asked.

  “Yes, Lady,” Tiri replied. Her voice was quiet but her eyes determined.

  I checked the lacings, and then made sure her boots were laced tight enough. “You don’t want snow in there,” I explained. “You can run on flat land or tundra, but not in the deep snow. If you find yourself sinking, don’t panic. Take deliberate steps. If you face an enemy, let them expend the energy coming to you. Don’t waste strength trying to get to them. If the fight moves to the old city, always take the higher ground, but don’t expose yourself to archers.”

  She nodded.

  I touched her face, granted her a little warmth, and then gathered everyone.

  “I will keep this short,” I said. “For I will not prolong this battle. It will be short, and I swear to you it will be decisive. It will not carry on into the cold night. The colossi and undead will be with you. The foulings will be among you. Do not be afraid of them; they will protect you and defend you. We will go to Ellsmid, and end this now.

  “Are you with me?” I shouted.

  They cheered back, Bardol leading the cry. Father raised his sword to me. Dalandaras just nodded.

  “Lorandal, Firien—the wall, please.”

  They led the way, and then myself close behind, and all others following. Their warm magic firmed the stairs, and we climbed over the wall. Their magic done, they fell behind me. The river flowed fast next to us, and the snow had melted down to tundra. What had not been cleared had been trodden down into a path by the foulings as they had gone.

  My colossi and undead whispered around us. The Lady was restless, and the spirits lingered near even though I had not summoned them into flesh.

  An eternity later, the river opened into the bay and the bright sunlight.

  The foulings and elves alike had been correct. Ellsmid had assembled her thousand soldiers in the dead city. They had brought up trebuchets through the snow, and several cannons. Their brutehaulers were still trying to maneuver the machines through the dead city, but the soldiers were lining up. Near Singael’s old prison, I saw the Dagnar elves. The Queen was there—I could feel her. She had no more soldiers than I did, but she did not move them from their silent vigil.

  “Stay against the mountains,” I ordered, and started off to the dead city.

  A figure came out of the dead city to meet me. Ellsmid. She wore the shining plate armor and cloak of the Empire. We met halfway between the edge of the ruins and the mountains of Tal Anor.

  “You came,” I said.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t?” Ellsmid replied. “After what you did to Zarah Aros?”

  “Let’s not play games,” I said. “You are not here for Zarah. The power of the old magic tempts you more than the love you had for her.”

  “The love I still have.”

  “She is dead. She is mine. Do you think taking the power will bring her back? You will only become as she has – lifeless.”

  I surveyed the men behind her. Their faces were red from the cold and wind, their noses frostbitten. Those without gloves had bleeding fingers. Ellsmid may have led them here in their orderly ranks, but their straight lines faltered in the deep snow. Their thoughts drifted back to the buildings of the dead city, where they had slept a sheltered night. Others thought of home, of children, of spouses and parents. Their brutehaulers might have remained steady, but they had already pulled the trebuchets this far. Stubbornness was set in their shoulders and legs. And the war hounds had not even gotten off their wagons.

  This battle had to be decisive, but I would not let the Lady be without mercy. I found the old magic and raised my voice. “If you retreat,” I said firmly. “Then we will not follow you. We will allow you to return to Winters Crown, and then to your homes. But if you stay, it will be death.”

  The words rippled through the several hundred men and women.

  Ellsmid’s brow darkened. “The Empire does not retreat!”

  There was doubt among her ranks—but there was also the firming of shoulders, the clenching of swords and spears.

  “I have my answer, then.” I drew Dauntless, the steel ringing in the cold air.

  “Fire!” Ellsmid ordered.

  The trebuchets groaned, and then launched their stones.

  The rocks soared far overhead. I closed my eyes, and summoned my colossi. A dozen joined me on the battlefront, swirling up out of snow and rocks. The bonds of the old magic were strong and firm. With steps that made the earth tremble, they started towards the enemy troops.

  Ellsmid ran back, just as the stones flew into the mountainside. They shattered, and took mountain and ice pack with them.

  The avalanche of sharp sharp rocks and ice would cut my soldiers before they had a chance to strike a blow.

  I drew on the Lady. “Destroy the trebuchets,” I told the colossi. To the still-sequestered undead, I called them forth. “Stop the avalanche. Protect the mortals.”

  Spirits and flesh reformed themselves behind my troops, pulling the old magic out of the land beneath them. The line of a hundred spirits formed a wall. Ghostly hands raised themselves at the coming onslaught.

  “Forward!” I shouted to my men and women. Fleeing the avalanche as much as charging into battle, they obeyed.

  Cannons boomed—the brutehaulers had finally gotten them into position. The cannonballs whistled as they flew overhead. Fire erupted from the avalanche as they crashed into it.

  “Dhreo!” I called, and then the fouling was at my side. “Be my eyes,” I said. “Find the cannonballs.”

  He darted off toward the rubble of the mountains, his heart beating with mine as he made to go around the front of Ellsmid’s troops.

  “Do not let the foulings live!” Ellsmid’s voice carried over the din, from amid the safety of her soldiers.

  I started forward, Dauntless gleaming in my hand. My men met me, then passed me. Bardol and Ehledrath were at the front.

  “This is living!” Bardol shouted, and charged ahead.

  A soldier, born and bred. Tiri hurried after him, a soldier of the heart.

  I looked to Father and Dalandaras. “I will draw Ellsmid off; I need you two to divide her army.”

  “Is it wise to go alone?” Father asked.

  Dalandaras touched my arm. “Annel may have taken the sacrifice for you,” he said. “But it pulled from your power.”

  He was right. I was already trembling, coated in sweat, and relying too much on Dhreo and all my other creatures. “She is the head of the snake,” I said instead. “Her men aren’t loyal to her beyond duty—once she is gone, they will not have motivation to continue the fight.”

  “Aye, Lady,” Father said, and drew his own greatsword.

  “Dalandaras,” I said quietly.

  “Lady?” he asked, then met my eyes. Whatever was in them softened the warrior, if only for a moment. “Eva?”

  I pulled him close, and kissed him. I memorized the softness of his lips, the feel of his calloused hands on my face. Then I pulled away. “Survive. For me.”

  “I will,” he said quietly. “So long as you do the same.”

  I nodded.

  The first soldier I came upon looked younger than myself. No matter. He wore the Empire’s colors. He raised his blade, but I was used to the snow. I stepped and crouched low, ducking his swing. I saw his neck was vulnerable, bereft of plain or chainmail. I raised Dauntless, and cut it through. He fell. Another ca
me upon me, his eyes wild, his sword raised and his body defenseless. Chainmail was not of use against a penetrating blow. With Dauntless straight and true, I impaled his chest. The blade butting against his ribs jarred more than ramming through the chainmail. I pulled away as he fell, and scanned for Ellsmid.

  “Get the fouling!” she shouted again over the shouts and crashes of battle. White powder drifted over us suddenly, filtering out the bright sun. It was the remnants of the avalanche.

  “To us,” the Lady called to the undead. I felt the surge of old magic as they obliged.

  I advanced into the old city. The ruined rocks stumbled all the mortals. The colossi and undead did not heed the distractions. With ghostly hands and ruined flesh and shifting ice they wrecked havoc and death onto Ellsmid’s men.

  Suddenly I felt Dhreo’s tug; he had found a cart of cannonballs.

  “Show me,” I murmured.

  He did, the wooden cart and the few soldiers surrounding it. They spotted Dhreo, and attacked.

  “Show me a fuse, just a single fuse.”

  Dhreo leapt onto the cart, away from his attackers, and showed me what I needed to see.

  “Thaeglir,” I whispered. “Now, flee!”

  My fouling obeyed, leaping from the cart. I let his sight go. Moments later, an explosion tore through the air, then another. Then the third, and loudest. It boomed through the air and slammed into me, and rolled over the dead city like thunder. A great blast of heat obliterated the gentle powder of the avalanche, and knocked me down. My ears rang and my head spun. In the distance, Dhreo whimpered. But he was crawling. Old magic slid back to me. Several of my colossi had been obliterated. The trebuchets had been disabled and the cannons were now without their shots, but I was losing creatures faster than we were cutting down Ellsmid’s men.

  I needed to draw Ellsmid away from her troops.

  Dhreo limped back to me, and my pack of foulings reformed themselves. Ignoring the advice I gave Tiri, I climbed up onto the nearest ruin wall and stood tall.

  “If you want me,” I murmured. “Come and get me.”

  My words were carried on the old magic and the snow drift in the wind, swirling around the Empire’s men and mine until they found Ellsmid. In the midst of the battle, she turned towards me. Our eyes met, hers full of hatred.