King's Throne

by D' Arc, Bianca

  “You can sense magic?” Gina asked, clearly curious about Hilda’s claims.

  Gunnar shrugged. “A bit. Enough to know when it’s building, and usually in enough time to take cover.”

  “I understand the need to hide the stronghold, but I can’t say I’m comfortable with the casual use Gisli seems to have made of human mages in his court. In America, shifters and mages don’t usually mix so freely,” Mitch observed.

  “Amma Hilda was born of a union of human mage and tiger sifter,” Gunnar explained, surprising Mitch. “She inherited most of both her parents’ skills. She also passed on a lot of her magic to subsequent generations. Your mother, for example, had weather sense and could always tell when a storm or volcanic eruption was coming. She was in tune with the earth in ways few of us are.”

  “How are you related to me exactly?” Mitch asked, curious.

  “My mother and your mother were sisters. As it happened, they married brothers, so we have the same last name, but we’re actually first cousins.”

  “Do your parents still live?” Mitch asked, feeling a pang for his own lost parents.

  “They do. They are both up at the stronghold at the moment. Neither has been granted leave by Gisli to come down to the village in weeks.”

  “Who trains the younger generation, if all the Guards are constantly kept up at the stronghold?” Gina wanted to know.

  Gunnar shrugged. “There are a few old timers who try, but it’s not easy. Those of us who haven’t been given spots in the Guard yet have had to take what we know and do our best to teach the cubs. I’m afraid our skills probably aren’t up to the standard of the previous generation.”

  Was Gunnar lying? Trying to fool Mitch into a false sense of security? He thought not. Gunnar seemed to be on the level, but Mitch would remain cautious.

  “That’s irresponsible and short-sighted at best,” Gina exclaimed. “My father would not have let this happen.”

  “Your father wasn’t here.” The tone was not accusatory, but Mitch felt Gina’s instinctive recoil. He wished he could reprimand Gunnar, but he’d spoken only the truth. And sometimes, the truth was painful.

  “You’re right, Gunnar,” Gina said after a long moment. “And I won’t make any excuses. Father had his reasons.”

  “We know, princess. I didn’t mean to condemn with my words. Amma Hilda has explained it to us many times, but it is still hard to live with. My apologies.”

  “Never apologize for speaking the truth,” Gina countered, surprising Mitch—and Gunnar, if his expression was anything to go by.

  “What did Hilda say about the king’s exile?” Mitch was curious.

  “That it was the will of the Lady and that we were not permitted to know Her reasons for every action. That we had to trust in the Mother of All to forgive us and return order to our kingdom.”

  “Forgive you for what?” Gina asked.

  Gunnar frowned. “It is not for me to speak of, even if I did know all the details. I can only say that a misuse of magic brought all this about. At least, that’s what Amma Hilda says.”

  Mitch would have probed more, but they’d arrived. In the distance, he could see a sheer ice wall that he knew from the king’s descriptions was no ordinary ice wall. A hidden fissure lead to the tiger stronghold encased within the glacier. The ice palace. Hereditary seat of tigre blanche power.

  As they drew closer, Mitch saw figures emerge from the fissure. Not stealthy. A mistake in Mitch’s opinion. What if they’d been a party of human climbers? It was stupid to be so cavalier about what was supposed to be the secret entrance to a hidden stronghold. Mitch shook his head and kept walking.

  The welcoming party was waiting.

  “Gunnar Gustavson,” a mountain of a man who had to be Gisli intoned. “Who have you brought to my doorstep?”

  “Only those granted passage by the right of challenge, sire,” Gunnar replied with seeming obedience. Mitch didn’t blame him. It was best to play along with Gisli for now. If Mitch lost, Gunnar would have no chance against a tiger his size.

  Gisli was a giant. Built on the scale of Gina’s father but a lot younger, he was a tiger warrior in his prime. It was clear he kept in shape. He hadn’t let soft living here at the stronghold weaken him. He looked like the kind of tiger that still got his claws bloody on a regular basis.

  Mitch would have his work cut out for him. But he’d known that already. This had never been advertised as an easy task.

  “I see no challenge here. Only cubs out for a walk.” Gisli spat into the snow at his feet. “Run back home to your mothers, children, and leave the work of governing to the adults.”

  Mitch knew the usurper was trying to rile him. He did his best not to let idle words ruffle his fur. Instead, he very deliberately stripped off his pack and reached inside for the arrow they’d brought with them all the way from the States. It was the same arrow that had been shot at them, holding the challenge message.

  Mitch lifted it in his hands and then threw it with dead-on accuracy to embed it in the snow an inch from Gisli’s foot. To his credit, the usurper didn’t even flinch. He didn’t waiver. Didn’t move back or give even a millimeter of ground. He simply stared at the arrow for a long moment and then looked back up at Mitch, a sneer on his face.

  “So you’re the puppy that comes to fight me in my brother’s stead? I could have hoped you’d be a little bigger. As it is, I predict this fight will be a quick one.”

  Gisli threw off his fur robe, showing he wore only heavy cotton white gi pants beneath with some kind of light-colored footwear that appeared to grip the ice well. Had he come straight from training? He didn’t look tired. In fact, he looked fresh as a daisy. Maybe he’d just been waiting around in his fighting gear, ready for the challenge. He’d definitely known they were coming.

  Mitch didn’t waste any time. He shrugged out of his coat and removed his shirt. He was wearing light-gray sweat pants and boots. He wasn’t cold. In fact, the extreme atmosphere invigorated him. And his boots and pants wouldn’t inhibit him if they shifted later in the fight. The boots would simply slip off his paws, and the pants would either tear or slide away when he shifted. Either way, he’d be unencumbered in his tiger form.

  If this fight lasted any length of time at all, they’d end up in their fur, fighting beast to beast. May the best cat win.

  Paul Miller was at Gina’s side. Gunnar was next to her, slightly in front as if in a protective stance. She wasn’t certain where Gunnar’s loyalties lay just yet, but it certainly looked like he was trying to shield her.

  Mitch had discarded most of his clothing and his knapsack on the ground. She scrambled to pick it up and hugged it to her chest. She wouldn’t distract him now, no matter how much she wanted a final kiss. They’d said everything they needed to say already. She wouldn’t dare break his concentration now that it was time to face the devil in his lair.

  She sent a silent prayer upward to the Lady for Mitch’s safety.

  “We should withdraw to a safe distance,” Paul said in a low voice near her ear.

  “If he doesn’t win, no place will be safe,” she countered so that only Paul could hear. He met her gaze and nodded once, acknowledging her words, but continued to insist they move back, away from the fighting.

  Gina complied, not wanting to get in the way. She would give Gisli a wide berth and not be foolish enough to let him use her presence to his advantage. The last thing she needed was to be grabbed by him or one of his henchmen—or a group of them—and threatened to make Mitch concede.

  She kept her group of loyal Old Guards around her. Truth be told, she wouldn’t have been able to get away from them if she tried. They were stuck to her like glue for the duration and she was glad of it. She knew for certain that she wasn’t going to be in any shape to watch out for herself until Mitch was in the clear. Worry for him distracted her too greatly.

  She watched as Gisli and Mitch circled, sizing each other up. The challenge started slowly, cautiously. Each m
an testing the other, feinting to test reach and reflexes. She knew for a fact that Mitch was holding back. He wasn’t showing all his cards in these opening rounds, and if her uncle had any sense, neither was he. Which made this confounded situation all the more dangerous and tense.

  “I didn’t know you were a Gustovson,” Gisli said loud enough for Gina to hear from many yards away. Was he going to taunt Mitch now? She hoped Mitch wouldn’t rise to the bait.

  She was glad when Mitch didn’t answer Gisli’s question, but her uncle wasn’t dissuaded. He kept talking and she heard every word of it.

  “If I’d known you were going to grow up to cause me bother, I would’ve killed you along with your parents. They were always troublemakers. I’ve killed a lot of Gustavsons in my time, starting with your sire. Did you know he squealed like a stuck pig when I tore him open with my claws? I can still hear it,” Gisli taunted, laughing.

  But his words were taking on the mindlessness of a rant, in Gina’s opinion. Was he not sane? Her mouth went dry at the thought that Mitch was facing a crazy man. Who knew what he would do when pushed? He’d been unpredictable before, but adding a little insanity into the mix made it all that much worse.

  Mitch seemed to keep his cool even through the taunting, but a moment later, Gisli launched himself at Mitch for real. Maybe he thought he’d weakened Mitch in some way with his words, but the furious attack was rebuffed at every turn. Gina clutched Mitch’s jacket to her chest, digging her fingers into the fabric with each block, each parry, each tumbling leap out of the way.

  It was clear to her now that Mitch was the more nimble of the two men, even though they were closely matched in size. Mitch was big, but he was light on his feet in a way Gisli wasn’t anymore—if he’d ever been. Would it be enough to tip the scales in Mitch’s favor? She prayed as hard as she could that it would.

  And then Gisli landed a crushing blow to Mitch’s right side, right near his kidney. It was very possible he’d broken ribs.

  And the mountain in the distance shook.

  Chapter Eleven

  Mitch felt the pain in his side, even as the volcano stirred to life. A split second later, he felt the lava flowing—in his veins and under his feet. Somehow…he was connected to the mountain. He felt its anger and its pain reflected the pain in his own body. And somehow…it gave him power.

  Broken ribs knit as lava flowed around them, setting them as hard as the Grim’s basaltic magma when it hit the tempering air. He was invigorated by the fiery mountain. Enthralled by its pulsating magic that beat within his own heart. He was aware of it as he had never been aware of anything before. Almost as if it spoke to him in its deep, rumbling voice of fire.

  Mitch shook his head and got back into the fight. Gisli had been thrown off for the moment but he was regrouping, ready for the next round. Mitch was ready too. His injuries had been healed in the mountain’s fire, strengthened by the Grim’s rocky heart and the magma powered his body as it flowed like fire through his veins. In that moment, he was the mountain.

  And the mountain didn’t like Gisli one bit.

  “Bright Lady.” Gina heard Gunnar whisper from in front of her. “I have never seen anything like this.”

  “What do you see?” she demanded.

  Gunnar turned his shocked face to her. “He is one with Grímsvötn. The heart of the volcano works through him.” And then Gunnar seemed to realize something. A smile spread over his handsome face. “Gisli doesn’t stand a chance.”

  Gina watched Mitch with careful attention, wondering at Gunnar’s words. If Amma Hilda was to be believed, Gunnar could sense magic. And if what he said was true…

  Gina gasped as Mitch seemed to gain speed. His motions blurred as he and Gisli struggled against one another, acrobatic moves occurring at lightning speed as true lightning lit the dark sky behind them—the volcanic ash of the mountain’s eruption attracting the charged electricity in the air.

  Full night had fallen, and the flash and bang of the lightning and thunder was almost blinding as it hit so nearby. The two men joined in mortal combat didn’t seem to notice that the fury of the storm and the anger of the mountain reflected their own conflict.

  But Gina saw. And she started to realize the truth behind what Gunnar had said. The mountain responded to Mitch’s actions. It growled and spat molten rock when he got hit. It brought lightning bolts to earth, almost in triumph, when Mitch scored a hit on Gisli.

  She realized then that the mountain was truly on Mitch’s side.

  Sweet Mother of All. The implications were staggering.

  Mitch began to dominate the fight. In his human form, he was unstoppable, clearly more than a match for Gisli. When her uncle realized it, he shifted to his tiger form.

  Mitch shifted a moment behind him, and where Gisli’s magic had shown dull and sickly against the snow and dark night sky, Mitch’s magical transformation shone like sparkling ice crystals, glistening in the air. His fur was sparkling as well, where Gisli’s was a dull off-white. Seeing the two white tigers side-by-side, it was strikingly clear who was more powerful.

  Gisli was huge and had artificially sharpened claws. Mitch was the natural. The way things ought to be. His claws were sharpened by nature and his dark-black stripes stood out in vibrant contrast against the glistening white of his fur. He was truly magnificent.

  The two giant cats began to circle, lashing out with claws as they came together, tails tangling in an effort to trip each other up. In this form, they were more evenly matched—at least at first.

  Gisli seemed to tire faster than Mitch. In fact, Mitch seemed to lose nothing despite the length of the battle. It was as if he was being powered from somewhere outside his own being. Before long, the black and white mixed with the red of blood as each scored hits—some deeper than others—on one another. The black of the volcanic mountain behind them. The white of the ice cap beneath them and the red of the magma that lay just below the surface. All were represented as the fight dragged on and on.

  “I’ve never seen him this strong,” she whispered to Paul at her side, but apparently Gunnar heard her comment as well.

  He turned briefly to look back at her. “Grímsvötn is feeding him energy. The mountain favors him. It heals him as he fights. He is unstoppable as long as the Grim gives him its power.”

  The mountain rumbled in the distance and an eerie ice fog began to steam down the slope, heading toward them. Gina watched the battle carefully, keeping one eye on the creeping fog. It seemed almost…alive?

  “The mage gathers himself,” Gunnar warned in a tense voice. “Be ready.”

  Ready to do what, she wondered? Gina didn’t know what good her martial arts training would be against a magical attack, but maybe her gymnastics might come in handy. If the mage started sending something she could see toward her, she might be quick enough to spring out of the way.

  Lowering Mitch’s jacket and backpack to the snow in front of her, she quickly shrugged out of her coat. She wanted to be ready and able to move without the somewhat binding coat encumbering her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her friends do the same. They knew what to do without being told. Every one of them had trained for all contingencies, though none of this group had ever come up against a mage before.

  But they weren’t the first choice of target. Gina actually saw the fireball streaking for Mitch’s back as Gisli stepped away. The bastard had positioned Mitch just so, but something made Mitch turn a moment before the fireball was set to envelop him. Gina held her breath as the fireball streaked closer. Mitch put out one hand as if to ward it off and then something amazing happened.

  The magical fire seemed to hesitate and then stop as if blocked. It went around Mitch as it dissipated against what looked like a shield of some sort that rerouted the magical energy into the earth, away from him.

  Gina was shocked and thankful that Mitch had somehow developed magical shields. That wasn’t anything he’d ever talked about before. She didn’t think he’d ever had th
em before.

  “Was that Mitch or the mountain?” she whispered.

  Gunnar smiled at her. “There is no difference at this point. They are one and the same right now.”

  “So I’m not imagining things. You see it too?” She had to get confirmation of her incredible suppositions.

  “Oh, yes, milady. My cousin is everything the Goddess promised us and more.” Gunnar’s expression changed from joy to concern in a flash. “Prepare yourself. The mage gathers energy once more. He may aim for us now that his way to your mate is blocked. He will seek to distract so Gisli can get an opening.”

  “He won’t get it from me,” Gina vowed, nodding to Paul and the others. They were all braced, ready to move at a moment’s notice.

  And then the fireballs were raining down on them and they were springing away in all directions. Gina checked on her people and everybody was safe—for now. But the mage was using a slightly different tactic. Where he’d shot one giant fireball at Mitch, he was sending multiple little ones at their group. And they kept coming. As soon as one volley ended, another began and everyone was kept moving in order to avoid them.

  Inevitably, someone got hit. A cry of pain came from the edge of her little scattered group. Adele Miller was being supported by her brother Harold for the moment. He was helping her avoid the small fireballs for now, but they were much less mobile with her injury and the two of them together made a bigger target. Something had to change soon.

  She looked across the battlefield and saw Mitch looking at her. She nodded to him, telling him without words that he should concentrate on his opponent and not fall for this distraction. They would deal with this. Somehow.

  And then Mitch looked up at the mountain and it rumbled as if in response. Hot rocks spewed from the crater with such energy they made it all the way down the slope to where the small group of shifters stood. But the molten chunks didn’t fall anywhere near Gina. No, they rained down on the watchers on the other side of the challenge field. They all dove for cover as the mage’s concentration was broken.