by J. B. North
Icebound
Legends of the Shifters
Book Two
By J.B. North
Icebound (Legends of the Shifters: Book Two)
Copyright © 2015 by J.B. North
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever without the written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles.
Cover art by Widhi Saputro
For Aunt Kristy,
the book fanatic that inspired me to read.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Acknowledgments
About the Author
-Chapter One-
Icy rain poured from the foreboding clouds, drenching and darkening the color of my fiery feathers. I squinted through the rain, wavering with the extra weight of water on my already exhausted body. But I couldn’t stop. I had to get to King Ciaran’s castle. My brother was still in there, wasting away in a rat-infested cell…if he wasn’t already dead.
I remembered seeing the bodies down there. The ones that were too still and stinking to be alive. I won’t let him be one of them.
I just hoped he was hanging on until I could help him escape.
It had been two days since I left the Isle of Ginsey. I hadn't stopped once, even though my wings begged me to give up and land.
I can’t give in. Not until I see the turrets of the castle.
My jaw ached from gripping the plant of eternal life as delicately as I could. I was tempted to drop it, to watch the rain batter it as it tumbled to the ground, but I couldn’t bring myself to open my beak. Roland died so I could have the plant. To let it slip away would betray his dying wish.
I pushed through the rain, but my muscles threatened to give up on me, stiff with cold and overuse. Darkness tinged the corners of my vision. I shook my head to keep awake.
Then, I caught a glimpse of the walls that surrounded the city of King's Crest. Relief swept over me. I finally made it.
I would have liked to press on to get to Kurt, but my wings refused to hold me for much longer. I sailed downward, forcing my eyes to stay open as I landed heavily on a wooded hillside.
Breathless, I shifted form for the first time in days. After being in the phoenix body for so long, my knees trembled beneath my weight.
I let the plant drop to the ground on the leaves beside me as I sunk against a tree trunk. I was soaked and cold, but my body had already decided to shut down. Before I faded out completely, I reached over and clutched the plant in my hand.
It was as if I were holding a piece of the sun. Heat coursed through my body, flooding me with calm.
Maybe Roland was looking down on me right then, from the “forever” he had talked about. Maybe the brilliant angel that he'd mentioned was standing next to him, keeping me safe.
I let that thought comfort me as I closed my eyes.
Tomorrow. I would try to find Kurt tomorrow.
* * * * *
I awoke to pain, but it wasn't just the soreness that cramped every single muscle in my body.
It was a ripping feeling in my chest, as if someone was slowly dragging a serrated knife through my heart. I managed to open my eyes long enough to see that there was no one around me and no blade stuck through my chest. The strange pain I felt came from the inside.
I curled into a tight ball, holding back a tortured cry as best I could. If there were sentries nearby, the last thing I wanted them to know was that I existed and that I was weak. I wouldn’t be able to defend myself while enduring a pain this excruciating.
The invisible knife traveled upward, dragging along my collarbone and creeping down my shoulder. I squeezed my eyes closed, waiting for the pain to ebb.
Then, just as quickly as it had come, it was gone, leaving me gasping for air.
I lay motionless for a while, giving myself time to catch my breath. I stared at my trembling hand in the fallen leaves, deeply breathing in the soothing scent of damp earth. It took a few moments to summon the courage to push myself to my knees, but I did eventually, trusting that movement wouldn’t trigger the pain again.
I pulled my sleeve to the side and studied the scar that now zig-zagged over my freckles with a grimace. I ran my finger along the ugly, jagged line. The area was so numb I could barely feel the touch. I sat back, horrified. What could possibly have made this scar appear?
Only one thing came to mind.
Frantically, I looked around for the plant. It took seconds to realize that I still had it clutched safely in my hand, but I uncurled my fingers to find them somewhat sticky with clear, green-ish goop. The stem of the plant was slightly nicked and bruised where my beak had clamped down on it. With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I understood what had happened. I’d severed it when I landed clumsily the night before.
For a moment, everything—the wind rustling the leaves, the birds singing, even my own breathing—went silent. I just stared at the little plant, studying how the flowers were starting to curl and turn brown at the ends.
A pang shot through my heart, deeper than any physical hurt. This plant should have been for Roland. Its power wasn't supposed to be running through my blood. And did this mean I was immortal?
As I took in a few steadying breaths, the scar began to tingle, pins and needles running along the length of it. I expected the pain to kick in again, but instead, my body began to feel lighter. The sensation was much like what I'd felt a few days ago, when I'd been granted strength to beat the iron giant.
The plant was already making me stronger.
I raised a shaking hand to my forehead. It can’t mean I’m immortal.
After witnessing the angels in the fourth and final test and Roland’s last breath, the swing of death’s scythe barely intimidated me. And yet, I knew my life could be used for good. Kurt was still trapped, my friends still waited for my return to the conservatory, and I still had a prophecy to fulfill, whatever it may be.
But forever is a long time.
My spinning thoughts came to a halt when I heard a whisper of movement. I listened closely, but it seemed like my pounding heart drowned out the world.
Then, leaves rustled behind me, too forceful to be wind. I spun around.
Three guards stood there, one woman, two men, their crossbows pointed directly at my chest. They moved smoothly, circling me.
I held my hands in the air, feeling the pressure of three sharp arrow tips, though each of them were five feet away. “What do you want?” The only sign of my distress was the high-pitched crack in the last word.
The woman narrowed her eyes. “We need you to come with
us.”
I refused to be captured by King Ciaran's men. Not again.
I shifted into half-form and tucked the plant away in my pocket, where my mother's necklace still hid.
“Hands up! Don’t move!”
Power surged through me as I looked back up, my anger rising. “No.”
The air reverberated with tension and the sound of ringing metal as I drew my sword and struck at the nearest guard’s weapon. I managed to take him by surprise, sending the bow hurtling a few yards away.
Whatever satisfaction I felt wasn’t long-lived. I heard the click of a crossbow as it released an arrow and watched out of the corner of my eye as the whistling spear spun toward me, sinking deep into the flesh of my left arm. I bit back a cry, my sword thudding to the ground. The seething anger that coursed through my blood somehow managed to diminish the pain as I pulled the arrow out of my arm, growling through the agony.
The woman eyed me warily. “This can end now. Don’t put up a fight and I guarantee you’ll live another day.”
I dropped the blood-tipped arrow to the ground. “I’m not coming with you.”
And then she pulled the trigger.
Without even thinking, I reacted, catching the arrow right before it plunged through my ribs.
The three guards stared at me with wide eyes as I panted, and before anyone could do anything else, I tossed the arrow away and swept down to retrieve my sword. Now the woman had her own blade drawn, a wicked looking thing that resembled a curved machete.
I flew into action, first attacking the man whose arrow had pierced my flesh, releasing all of my energy into a blow across the metal breastplate that protected his chest. To my surprise, my blade cut cleanly through the armor and into his torso. With a strangled cry, the guard crumpled to the ground. Had I used normal human strength, the blow would have delivered a dent and a bruise, not death.
In the back of my mind, a single thought kept running through my head. I just killed a man. I killed him.
I didn't have time to think about it. Not yet.
I turned to the other guards and advanced. The woman struck at me first, so I parried the attack to the side before I grabbed her sword arm, stepped in close where her weapon wouldn’t reach, and elbowed her in the temple hard enough to render her unconscious, but not dead.
For goodness sake, I hoped that she wasn't dead.
She thumped to the ground behind me as I turned to the last guard, the one that I’d struck at first.
His hands were shaking as he fumbled to reload his crossbow, having already pulled the string taut, but still attempting to get the arrow into position. I jerked the bow out of his hands and rested my blade against his throat. His Adam's apple bobbed against the metal as he swallowed tightly, eyes wild with fear.
“What does your king want with me?” I interrogated.
He took in a shaky breath. “The king’s borders mark you as a foreigner. Foreigners must be captured and brought to the king.”
I narrowed my eyes. Borders?
“Not this one,” I replied, and with the hilt of my sword, I knocked him out cold. He collapsed to the ground.
I stood back and looked around, the reality of the situation finally settling in. I’d just injured two strangers and killed one. Before this, I hadn’t killed anyone. I stared at the dead guard for a while, bile rising up in my throat.
That man had a life, and I took it with one swipe of my sword. What if he had a family that loved him? A wife and children?
I banished the thought. It was too much for my already aching heart.
My arm wound helped to distract me. The throbbing pain was diminishing quickly, a sure sign that the plant's power was doing its job. As I watched, the rip in my flesh slowly knitted back together until the only proof of its former existence was the crimson stain that still soaked my arm and my dress. I sighed with relief when the pain went with it.
I searched each guard’s bags for anything of value and found a small amount of food and some coins. I was about to leave them when an idea formed in my head.
The woman couldn't have been that much bigger than me. If I were to dress up like a Ginsian guard, it may smooth over my attempt to get into the castle undetected.
It was the best plan I'd come up with yet.
I made my way back over to the woman and began to strip her armor, scanning the forest for anyone else that might be lurking about. There was no one in sight, human or animal.
Once I shifted back into first form and had all the armor in place, I continued toward the wall of the city. There was no gate nearby, so I trailed along the crumbling stone, snacking on the bread and cheese I’d stolen from the guards. I never found an actual entrance, but there was a section that seemed easier than the rest to scale. I climbed over the mess of eroded rocks and dropped to the other side, squinting through the trees. I could just make out a cluster of buildings.
I ran forward, armor clanking with every stride. The woman's boots were the only thing too big for me, but by curling up my toes, I managed to keep them on. I rounded one of the buildings, and made it to the cobblestone of the city street. To avoid the attention of the commoners, I slowed to a quick walk.
As I passed a man and his child, they cowered away, eyes averted. Most people skirted around me, some even disappearing down alleyways before I got to them. As I neared the castle gate, the number of villagers dwindled, replaced by more soldiers than I've ever seen in one place before. The gate itself wasn't surrounded by beggars like before, but was instead guarded heavily by rows of armored individuals.
I steeled myself as I walked past the lines of guards. I kept feeling like someone would stop me at any moment, but surprisingly, I got through without any questions. I passed through the gap in the gate and focused on the castle ahead. Unlike the last time I’d been here, a large black flag hung on the stone of the castle that read:
WE WILL CONQUER.
I shuddered and skirted around a statue of King Ciaran that was being chiseled out of rock.
As I climbed the steps to the large front doors, I counted seven guards crowded around it, standing silently side by side. I strode forward boldly
The guard in front stepped toward me. “What is it, soldier?”
“The commander sent me to guard the corridor,” I replied, hoping that would be enough.
The man scrutinized me, eyes searching my face. Eventually, he shook his head and grumbled, “We'll let you through this once, but you need to go through the east entrance from now on.”
He motioned to the other guards, and three of them moved away from the door to let me through.
“Beginners,” one of them snickered to the other.
On the other side, two more guards stood beside the door. I nodded to them and continued walking down the hall.
The memory of being led to the dungeons by King Ciaran seemed cemented in my mind, so it wasn't hard to navigate the castle.
I erased all emotion from my face when a couple guards hurried past, their armor clanking. I managed to hear a few words of their conversation.
“—castle has been breached. The king says there is someone very powerful within the walls—”
I turned right, into another corridor, my mind spinning. Could King Ciaran sense my presence? If so, he couldn’t be very far away. I’d only entered the castle seconds ago.
I picked up my pace, palms sweating. The dungeon door was the last on the left, but there was definitely something off about it.
Then I realized—no guards. I hesitated outside for a moment, wondering if I should go through with my plan.
No. I didn’t come this far just to turn away. I reached forward and grabbed the handle. Unlocked.
I pushed the door open, and let my eyes adjust to the darkness as I shut it behind me and turned the lock into place.
Blood rushed in my ears as I waited in the darkness. I took a step forward, but something rattled along the ground. Something I’d kicked. I squinted my eyes and peered c
loser.
A helmet. And next to it, a body.
One that didn’t appear to be breathing.
I jumped when I heard a hushed voice behind me. “I knew you’d come.”
-Chapter Two-
I turned around slowly.
The first thing I noticed was that the man wasn’t as wide as he was tall, like King Ciaran. That was a relief.
He wore the armor of a soldier, but something told me that wasn't his true identity, just like it wasn't mine.
I unsheathed my sword and held it between us, keeping a safe distance from the stranger. “Who are you?”
“I think you know who I am,” the figure replied. I could hear the smile in his voice. He lifted an unlit torch off the wall, and immediately, the end burst into flame. I recognized a pair of moss green eyes that stood out against a dark, horse-like face.
It was Rowan, the wizard that had given me my trial, the man who first said what my second form was.
I shifted backward and raised my blade higher. “What are you doing here?” The sorcerer hadn’t given me a great impression the day I met him, and the fact that he had magic made me trust him even less.
He sauntered closer to the tip of the sword, green eyes glinting in the firelight. “I’m here to help. Your brother asked me to.”
How did he know that Kurt and I were related? But I didn’t dare ask the question aloud for fear of drawing out the conversation. “To help me save him?”
“Not exactly… And you won't find him in here.”
I dug my nails into my palms. “Why not? Did you inform King Ciaran of my presence?”
He gave a short laugh. “No. The king knows that without me. One might call the ability a sixth sense. Usually, sorcerers feel inklings of power, depending on the strength of the host. Your power is some of the strongest I’ve traced, which makes you an easier target to catch. I can tell that you've grown a lot since we last met.”
I swallowed hard. “Where is Kurt?”