The Myatheira Chronicles: Volume Three: Crown of Ice

by Melissa Collins

  It looked to be the remains of a tent. Heart pounding, he pulled at the rope, watching the remnants of the material break through the surface. “Ehren,” he breathed, looking up to his brother, fearful of what their discovery could mean. “This is one of the tents our soldiers set up upon our arrival to Nahedu.”

  Ehren’s face fell at the thought, his own discomfort evident. “It cannot be,” he shook his head in denial. “If this was the camp, there would be someone here. You must be mistaken.”

  “I’m not mistaken,” Edric frowned, rising swiftly to examine the surrounding area. To his dismay he located another abandoned tent, spreading the material out to see the Levadis crest painted onto the fabric. There was only one tent in the camp which bore such a prominent symbol of the Vor’shai military. His heart sank, a deep pit building in his stomach. The command tent. “Callum,” he exhaled, his eyes scanning the ruins of the Vor’shai camp. This couldn’t be happening. They were too late.

  His hands dug at the snow in a frenetic attempt to uncover the rest of the tent. There had to be some sign of what happened. Callum and Gadiel never would have simply abandoned their post. It was possible an attack caught them off guard. He feared what the Avaern would have done to them if it chose to strike while they slept. Their bodies would be somewhere in the mess of fabric. But there was nothing. The only thing inside it was snow and a few empty containers which had at one time been used to carry their supplies. Food. Blankets. It was all gone. He took comfort in the thought, standing again to find Neomi and Onuric staring at him, confused by his strange behavior.

  “They weren’t here when the camp was destroyed,” he stated flatly, unsure of how he knew this. He was confident that he was right. There was no other explanation for why their supplies would be gone. Food might have been eaten by the animals but the rest of their belongings would have been left behind. There was nothing. Not even a shred of fabric to imply the bags to have been ripped open by some wild beast.

  From the position of the command tent, he didn’t require Onuric or Neomi to lead him the rest of the way to the main camp. He could picture it in his mind, pushing through the blowing snow with determined strides. Storm or not, he was going to uncover what happened to his friends. He had to believe they were still alive. Hope was the only thing he had left to keep him moving.

  The closer he came to the Ovatai camp, the stronger the wind began to blow. It did nothing to ease his discomfort, reminding him of the storm which had waged in Isavo prior to the Avaern’s arrival. Throughout their journey the weather had been chaotic but this was becoming significantly more unnatural. More powerful than Ewei’s spirit alone was capable of.

  Inside the icy walls of the camp it was easier to get a sense of his bearings, the snow blocked somewhat by the cover they granted. Sections appeared to have been knocked down by some incredible force, leaving the inner camp vulnerable to attacks from multiple angles. It was no longer a viable position for a base of operations. So where was everyone? Would they have taken the risk in moving closer to the actual village in order to protect it or would Callum have directed them further out? Both options had their advantages and disadvantages. The question was which one Callum would have considered the best tactic. Closer to the village would have allowed them to still make use of the walls to some degree. To move further from the protection of the original camp seemed more dangerous. They would be left with very little cover and wide open to the Avaern’s assaults.

  That was his answer. Tactically, it made more sense for them to retreat closer to the village. If that was where they were, he was determined to find them. With renewed purpose he continued through the camp, giving only a brief glance over his shoulder to make sure Ehren was still with him, not wanting to risk leaving him behind. The thought of having failed in keeping Callum safe was more than he could bear. He didn’t want to chance failing his brother as well.

  At the rear of the camp he could make out what looked to be two Ovatai guards standing watch over the gate, their stark white hair and clothing blending in with the whipping snow around them. Seeing them brought a sense of relief to realize that there were survivors here. Whatever happened to push them back hadn’t been enough to destroy everyone. It meant there was still a chance. Callum might still be alive.

  Hastening his steps he hurried to the guards, coming to stand in front of them. One of the men stared at him, shifting his gaze to where Onuric and Neomi made their way closer, a bright flash of his icy eyes revealing what almost looked to be pleasure in seeing their return. “Where is the Chief ?” Edric questioned, tilting his head to invade the man’s vision. He needed answers. There wasn’t time for this man to be distracted. “We need to find Chief Okivra and Captain Levadis. Do you know where they are?”

  The man looked confused for a moment before seeming to register what Edric was asking. When he spoke, his words were difficult for Edric to understand, the accent thick in the old language utilized by the Ovatai. It explained the man’s hesitation. He more than likely hadn’t recognized all of the words Edric said. “The trench,” he replied simply, motioning through the gate in the direction of the village. “They have taken cover there.”

  Edric didn’t stop to ask any more questions. There was nothing else to be learned from that man. He indicated Okivra and Callum to be in a trench somewhere. Alive. Had one of them fallen in battle, Edric had to believe the man would have said something of the loss.

  Running back into the chaotic flurry of snow, he called for his friend, straining his ears for some sound which would tell him where this trench was. From where he stood he could see more warriors moving about the area, diligently working to construct new walls, their arms filled with blocks of ice as they placed them in strategic locations throughout the open space, melting it enough to fuse the pieces together once it froze again. To Edric’s right he could see where a significant amount of work had already been done on the wall positioned there, the efforts now focused on the other side of the new camp. Near the center he could see a mound of snow dug up from the ground, the length of it covering almost the entire width of the space. Quickly he made his way toward it, his speed hindered by a sudden gust of wind, nearly knocking him off his feet from the strength.

  “Callum!” He had to be there. Edric refused to consider any other possibility. Over and over he shouted the name, struggling against the wind to make his way around the snow. He thought he might collapse from relief and joy when he saw Callum’s proud figure emerge from around the mound, the glow of his umber eyes cutting through the white curtain of snow which blurred the space between them.

  The wind aided Callum in reaching Edric, covering the distance in only a few long strides. “Edric, you made it.” Before Edric could say anything he felt Callum’s arms wrap around him in a tight embrace, reminding Edric of the concern the others experienced in allowing him to go on the journey with Onuric. It was with good reason that they worried. He knew it was never his intention to return. And Callum was smart enough to have determined Edric’s plans and believed him as good as dead upon his departure. “Where is your brother? And the others – are they all safe?”

  “We are a little worse for wear, but Ehren is fine. Onuric and Neomi weren’t far behind when I spoke with the guards at the gate.”

  “What of the weapon? Did you find it?”

  “We did.” Edric paused, unsure of how to explain what happened. It didn’t seem important at the moment. All that mattered was that they had the weapon and the sacrifice was complete. They just needed to find a way to get at the Avaern. “What happened to the camp? I was afraid we were too late…”

  “Over the past couple of weeks the Avaern has begun to make its presence more prominent. Something has stirred it. It sends fewer beasts than before, but it has shown itself several times. We’ve taken heavy hits with each attack. Our numbers are starting to suffer. I was just discussing with Okivra how dire our predicament is. We only have the strength to hold off maybe one more attack. An o
ffensive strike at this point will be difficult. The only cover we have against it is this trench here,” he motioned toward the mound, “and hiding does little to push the Avaern back. All this trench does is protect us until the beast chooses to leave… which is what we have been forced to do when it shows itself. Weapons have no effect on it. To stay in the open and try to fight is suicide.”

  A loud shriek cut through the air, sending a shiver through Edric’s spine. His eyes followed Callum’s toward the sky overhead, both of them falling silent, searching for the direction where the sound had come. It was too loud to be caused by any of the men or women at the camp. Callum shook his head, grabbing onto Edric’s sleeve to pull him toward the trench. “Come,” he urged, the sound of his voice almost completely lost to the roar of the wind. “It is close. We need to see this weapon and decide what we can do.”

  They pushed through the wind together, each step they took requiring all of their strength to keep from being repelled backward from the force. Onuric was coming closer, the spear clutched tightly in his hands. Edric wondered if the increase in the wind had anything to do with the power of Ewei’s spirit combined with the efforts of the Avaern to weaken them. With the way the weather was now, Edric found it difficult to imagine being able to set up an offensive strike. The weather was against them. Any attempts to fire an arrow in this wind would be foiled instantly. Ranged attacks were out of the question. If they were going to initiate a battle against the beast, they would have to do so at melee range, giving the Avaern the upper hand. It could crush them in a single swipe of its wing.

  Rounding the corner Edric felt the worst of the wind die down. The depth of the trench was greater than he anticipated, having to lean back to keep from falling as he made his way down the slope. It was a brilliant design. The warriors had dug it deep under layers of snow, shielding them completely other than the main opening where Callum led Edric inside. It was fashioned in a way which resembled Okivra’s home, creating a sort of bunker underground. Deep enough to protect from the Avaern while still close enough to the surface to prevent them from being crushed under the snow if it was to collapse.

  Okivra was standing toward the back, his head lifting with an expression of solemn relief to see Edric at Callum’s side. “You have returned,” he said, meeting them at the center of the spacious room. “What news do you bring? Was that traitor’s story accurate?”

  “To our knowledge, yes,” Edric nodded. There was little he could say without Onuric there to present the weapon. Okivra would take more comfort in hearing the news from his son. Casting a quick glance over his shoulder he gestured for Neomi and Onuric to come closer, directing Okivra’s attention to his children. “Your son has it in his possession. Perhaps you will be able to understand its function better than me.”

  Stiffly Onuric stood before his father, his head bowed, offering the weapon in a display of respect. Okivra accepted it with an appreciative nod, his hands sliding over the fabric which concealed the blade from view. Onuric’s arm shot forward with incredible speed, holding the coat firmly in place, his eyes staring hard into his father’s. “Do not uncover it,” he stated sternly, paying no mind to the flash of anger which crossed Okivra’s face. “The sacrifice has been fulfilled, but I could not have predicted the effect the chosen spirit would have over the weapon. Ewei’s energy is wild. If given the chance, it would bring this whole place down around us and feed us all to the Avaern.”

  Edric could feel the eyes of everyone in the room settle upon them at the mention of Ewei’s name. For the first time Callum and Okivra seemed to take notice of his absence, staring down at the weapon in Okivra’s hands. “Ewei is dead?” he inquired of his son, peering up at him with genuine curiosity. Onuric nodded, directing a stern look to where Edric stood.

  “He fell at the hands of the Prince. And good riddance. I heard him admit his treachery with my own ears before he met his end.”

  Shifting uncomfortably, Edric avoided the questioning stares, unsure if it was a wise idea for Onuric to have openly admitted the truth of Ewei’s demise. Some of the warriors might harbor resentment at the thought of their former leader being struck down by a foreigner. Edric’s reputation wasn’t entirely favorable to begin with. “Ewei left me no choice,” he defended his actions, impressed by the steadiness of his tone despite the unease he felt. At least the others wouldn’t see his uncertainty. “He attacked me after Ehren and I discovered the weapon. It was his intention to kill me and then use the weapon to regain favor among your people by claiming himself some kind of hero. His plan to ingratiate himself with the warriors and take over as Chief had not subsided, even after the truth of his mind came to light. My options were to either kill him or risk him coming after Onuric.”

  “I would not have been bested by him if it came to blows,” Onuric replied sharply, cutting Edric off. “Your assistance was unnecessary.”

  “Think what you will. It doesn’t change the fact that he intended to kill me. My actions were in self-defense and in the best interest of everyone in Ethrysta. Chief Okivra, I beg your forgiveness if you take insult.”

  “I take no offense to the death of that man, regardless of whose hands his blood is on,” Okivra frowned. “I am more surprised to hear you were able to defeat him. Ewei was one of our strongest men. Victory over him is a commendable feat.”

  Onuric’s mouth opened as if to speak, the anger Edric saw in his eyes adding to the discomfort he already felt. Nothing Onuric could say in that moment would be good. He held too much resentment toward Edric. For Okivra to imply his actions to be commendable would only serve to exacerbate Onuric’s discontent. Closing his eyes Edric braced himself for the accusations he knew would come. This was the perfect opportunity for Onuric to voice his aversion and the truth of what he discovered between Edric and Neomi, unraveling the progress Edric had made in gaining the Chief ’s approval. To his surprise the words never came. Onuric’s lips closed, his heated gaze shifting to rest on his father once again, releasing his hold on the spear. “You can examine the writing on the handle, if you wish. Just keep the blade covered. It seems to be the largest source of power within the weapon.”

  Leaning forward Callum stretched his neck to get a better view as Okivra slid the fabric away, keeping the coat positioned securely around the blade. Edric watched the Chief ’s face, curious to know whether the symbols would mean something more to him. “It looks to be a poem,” Okivra stated quietly, the tips of his fingers brushing over the carved stone, tracing the indentations created by the images. “This form of writing has not been used in years. Our language has evolved beyond the use of such symbols to communicate.”

  “You cannot read it, then?” Callum asked, looking at Okivra in mild surprise. “It could be essential in determining how to use the weapon.”

  “I can read it,” Okivra gave a scornful laugh, clearly insulted. “I only mention the antiquity of the language because we have not taught it to our children in centuries. Only a few of us chose to indulge our grandparents by keeping it alive.” He mumbled something to himself, the words nothing more than a soft whisper, though they struck Edric with their familiarity, shuddering at the memory of Ewei’s voice chanting the words. It sounded strangely less menacing coming from Okivra’s lips.

  He took a step forward, holding his hand out in hopes of silencing Okivra. Edric knew very little about the ancient forms of magic used by the Ovatai ancestors but something nagged at the back of his mind. “Maybe you should not speak the words out loud. That is the same incantation Ewei used to awaken the weapon. There is no way to know what effect it would have if the words are completed a second time.”

  “Ewei?” Onuric turned to him in disbelief. “How would Ewei have known what it said?”

  “I would like to know the same thing,” Edric exhaled a long breath, relaxing somewhat to hear Okivra’s chanting cease. He didn’t know if it presented any danger but it wasn’t a chance he was willing to take. “At the time I wasn’t sure if he w
as reading the symbols or if he had simply gone mad. Now that I know the words he spoke were those carved into the weapon, I have to believe he was quite well-versed in the ancient text. He gave no indication of struggle in understanding it.”

  “Sounds to me as though there was a great deal we didn’t know about him prior to this. Unfortunately, it changes nothing about our current predicament.” Callum sounded apologetic, casting Edric a solemn glance to interrupt. “We need to make a decision. The Avaern is coming and will be upon us soon. What is your call, Chief? Do you desire to arrange an offensive attack or should we call the men back to the shelter until it passes?”

  Time was against them. There would be little chance to think of a plan before the Avaern reached the camp but at the same time there was nothing more to be learned about the weapon. To wait would only prolong the torture, not knowing what the energy inside the blade would do. Their knowledge of the magic was not deep enough to make an educated decision. While waiting was ideal to grant them time to determine an appropriate stratagem to combat the beast, there was no way to know that Ewei’s energy would sustain the weapon for any further length of time. It had already been trapped within the blade for weeks, constantly battering them with what little power it could use while contained. Could a spirit become tired? They couldn’t risk the energy weakening. They would lose their chance, and the thought of sacrificing someone else for the cause seemed too cruel to consider.