She peered around Libby’s shoulder and out a window to see light elves taking up position outside the front door, before the porch. Their sun scepters were in their hands, but the crystalline weapons were dim, they’d been used a lot that night and there wasn’t much power left in them. Leona was afraid of what that might mean for a long battle.
Libby rushed Leona away from the window and pushed her down onto the dilapidated couch. Her sudden weight caused the frame to crack and the sofa to sag more.
“What’s going on?” Olice asked. The older elf turned from her ministration of Skye, where he lay prostrate on the counter. Leona could barely see her friend around Olice. He didn’t look much better than he had before. His hair wasn’t as bright as it once was, and his skin wasn’t as white . . . more gray.
“Darklings—” Libby started, but her words were cut short when a golden orb of light streamed through the window at the top of the crumbling stairs near the back of the house. The light glided over the broken stairs and raced across the living room.
Golden dust spun across the floor, vanishing into the air before it reached the sofa, as the orb resolved itself into the petite figure of an elf child. The frail boy had emerged from the orb before it had stopped, and so he slid the last few feet across the floor on his knees before he tumbled to a stop mere inches before Olice.
“Grandmother!” The boy cried, flinging his arms around Olice’s waist. “The dark elves attacked at Garth’s ascension.”
Silence settled over the room, broken only by the gasps and sobs of the little blond elf boy. Olice cast a gaze at Libby, a question there, but what the question was, Leona couldn’t tell. From the confused look on Libby’s normally placid face, neither could she. Libby shook her head, the multitudes of braids scattering about her shoulders.
“Gab, tell me what happened,” Olice said. She knelt before the boy, holding him out at arm’s length to gaze into his eyes as if by peering into his eyes she could instill some kind of calmness or read the truth of what brought him here that night. Apparently she could, because her face melted into a mask of sorrow. Libby turned from Olice and the elf child, shielding Leona from seeing what was happening in the kitchen.
But it was too late. Leona had already seen the look that passed over their faces. She recognized the look. It was a look she’d seen a lot in Abagail’s eyes and in Rorick’s eyes over the last couple months. It was the look of loss. Not just any loss, but the loss of someone so close and dear to you that you knew your life would never be the same again.
“Libby,” Olice called a few minutes later, her voice hollow. “I need to take Skye into the light. He will heal while in his travel form. I’m getting Gab away from here, taking him south to the dwarves and Celeste.”
“Olice, what’s happening?” Libby asked, turning to the older elf.
“Garth has gone into the light,” Olice said. “New Landanten has fallen.”
Libby shook her head and opened her mouth, but it refused to work. She took a step back, resting against the front door. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the wooden embrace. A single tear streamed down her cheek, glimmering in the low light.
“We must leave,” Olice said. “I don’t dare chance staying here much longer. You must leave soon as well. Get Leona out of here. Get her to safety. Find the ravens and Rowan and then follow us; join us in the south with the dwarves.”
“There’s harbingers there,” Leona said. “They’re coming through from Muspelheim.” She wasn’t really sure why she’d said it. She didn’t even really remember saying it until the words were out of her mouth and hanging in the air.
“That’s good,” Olice said, her attention still rooted on Libby to make sure the younger elf was going to be okay. “We are going to need all the help we can get.”
A commotion arose outside nearly before the words had left Olice’s mouth. Leona searched the floor frantically, trying to find her weapon. Finally, she spotted the moon scepter, it’s glow a dim illumination, at the base of the stairs. She scrambled for it, feeling the cool pulse of power in her hand when she gripped the weapon.
When she turned, Olice was at the window, peering through the broken panes. Leona tossed the blankets aside that still wrapped the scepter.
“What is it?” Libby asked, seeming to come to herself later then everyone else.
“Let us through!” A familiar voice barked. “She’s our student.”
“And my daughter!”
Funny she admits to that now, Leona thought, rolling her eyes.
“It’s the ravens and Rowan,” Olice said, turning back to Libby and Leona. Her eyes ghosted over Skye’s body when the elf moaned.
“Let them in,” Leona said.
Libby nodded woodenly, and opened the door. “Let them through,” she ordered. Leona heard a rustling of movement and then boots on the stairs. In moments the pale twin sisters entered, their black clothes resting about them like shadows. Muninn smiled at Leona and went to her, cupping her face in warm hands. She angled Leona’s face up to peer into her blue eyes, and then ran her hands through Leona’s short blond hair.
“I’m so happy you’re safe,” Muninn said, gathering Leona into her embrace that smelled of cloves and cinnamon.
Her twin, Huginn, settled herself against the door, her arms folded over her chest. If she was happy or angry, she didn’t show it.
Rowan, dressed hastily in brown breeches and a black tunic, pulled her black long-coat tighter around her. Her long white hair was loose and tangled as if she’d just woken up, or she’d fought her way there. She refused to let her puffy red eyes meet Leona’s, which Leona thought was just as well. She didn’t want anything to do with Rowan at the moment.
If she hadn’t gambled with so much, she could have kept Abbie from catching the plague . . . our family could have been whole.
“We don’t have time for this,” Huginn said once she thought the hugging had gone on long enough.
“Where’s the God Slayer?” Rowan asked, still not looking at Leona.
“In my closet,” Leona said. She reluctantly parted from Muninn.
“You need to get it, and we need to leave. Now!” Huginn ordered.
Leona nodded, happy to have something to do and happy that they were going to make their way out of the town. Though she wouldn’t admit it, she was happy to have someone there to take charge. It gave her hope of escaping this place. As she raced up the stairs she heard bits and pieces of what the others were talking about downstairs.
“You should take Leona with you,” Rowan was saying.
“I was thinking that too,” Olice replied.
It took some maneuvering, and Leona had to skip some stairs that she knew wouldn’t hold her weight, but in time she made it to the landing. She turned and raced down the hall, the voices muted now that she was upstairs and away from the gathering. She threw open the door to her bedroom, the door moaned and slid from its hinges and onto the floor. It landed beside the hammer.
Leona hadn’t really thought about the hammer much since she’d contracted the plague. The hammer would only allow those who were worthy of it to lift it. It was said that only Hafaress could lift it, since the spirit of his human lover was inside the hammer. But she was Hafaress. But she also had the plague. Would it still allow her to lift it? Or would the hammer reject her?
Leona peered down at her gloved hand. She knew the shadow rested beneath the glove. The shadow plague marred her now. Darkness slept inside her body. The hammer might not count her as worthy any longer, no matter whose spirit was inside her flesh.
Leona closed her eyes against a rush of emotion at the mere thought of the hammer rejecting her. She couldn’t leave it here. What if the darklings found it and they took it away. What if they used it to release Anthros?
Of course, if she wasn’t worthy enough to lift it, darklings certainly wouldn’t be. But still, she couldn’t risk that they would figure out some way to control the weapon.
&nb
sp; “Today, Leona!” Huginn yelled from the base of the stairs.
Leona shook herself back to the present. Taking a deep breath, she gripped the leather wrapped handle of the hammer and tugged, not expecting it to budge. The force she’d put into the tug unbalanced her when the hammer came off the floor as easy as a sword would have. She tumbled backwards, tripping over a pile of clothes she’d been meaning to pick up for a week. Stumbling into the hallway, Leona slammed against the wall, and almost slid to the floor before she was able to catch her balance.
A smile split her face as the wyrd that powered the hammer trembled in response to her touch.
“What’s going on up there?” Rowan called.
“Nothing,” Leona nearly laughed.
Even through the glove she could feel the rush of the hammer’s power. Deep inside she felt two parts of her answer the hammer. One part opened, greeting the power like an old friend. The other part, the plagued part, sought a place to hide from the glowing might of the hammer that raced through her body, pounded through every fiber of her being like some wyrded heartbeat.
Leona ignored the warring forces inside her body and headed back down the stairs.
Huginn and Muninn waited for her at the base of the stairs. Huginn frowning, her arms clenched over her chest. Muninn smiled, her hands folded before her waist.
“Good. Now, here’s the plan. Leona you’re—” but before Huginn could finish, the night outside flashed to life with a malignant black light. A concussion like thunder without sound trembled the house on its foundations. Dust and debris sifted down from the ceiling. Outside screams arose from several elvish throats, silver and golden light flared for a brief second, and then the screams and the flashing lights faded.
After several moments where the only sound Leona could hear was the sound of her heart hammering in her ears, the darkness of pre-dawn was lit with silver light, as if the moon had come to rest on the ground outside.
“Leona,” a singsong voice mocked into the sudden silence. “You have something of mine, dear, and we have a score to settle.”
“It’s Daniken,” Leona said. Her grip tightened on the hammer. She knelt and picked the scepter back up where she’d left it propped against the wall before she’d gone for the God Slayer.
Olice knelt before her grandson. Gab’s eyes were distant, vacant, as if he was at another place, reliving the fall of New Landanten. When Olice took his face in her hands, the boy elf jumped and his eyes widened. When he calmed, Olice took his hands into her. “Listen,” she said. “Do you know the place where the dwarves live? The place where Celeste is staying?”
Gab nodded and swallowed hard.
“It’s a long trip to the south,” she said. “Can you make it by orb?”
Again he nodded.
“You won’t make it alone,” Olice told him. “I’m coming with you, and I’m bringing Skye.” She looked up to Leona. “Where’s a good place to leave from?”
“The back of the house, through the bathroom window,” Leona pointed to the back corner of the house. The door that led from the kitchen and into the bathroom hung off its hinges. The wall separating the rest of the house from the bathroom was riddled with so many holes that Leona could clearly see the stone tub and the toilet from where she stood. The window was broken. It should be easy for the orbs to get out.
“Good. Once we are gone, you and Libby leave through another window. Don’t leave the same way in case we draw Daniken’s attention.” Olice turned to Rowan and the ravens. “Will you three be okay?”
The three of them nodded.
Olice stood, one hand on Gab’s shoulder, the other resting on Skye’s leg. “I’m sorry that I can’t stay to help, but the only way to heal Skye at this point is within the golden light of our travel form. I have to get them both to safety.”
“What about the scepters?” Libby asked.
“We will figure all of that out once we get to the dwarves,” Olice said.
“Just leave already!” Huginn hissed, tossing her hands into the air.
“Okay, okay,” Olice said.
“Leona, I’m waiting!” Daniken sang from outside. “Come out and play.”
Gab jumped. Olice glanced out the window and then back to Libby. “Move fast. Get her to safety.” At a grumble from Huginn the older elf raised her hands defensively. “I’m going!”
Olice returned to the counter, Gab trailing behind her as if he didn’t want her to suddenly vanish from sight. She gathered Skye into her arms, lifting him as if he wasn’t nearly double her weight. She made the action look effortless. She motioned with her chin for Gab to go into the bathroom.
The boy elf closed his eyes and with a look of forced concentration on his face, his body began glowing and then resolved itself into a spiraling incandescence that formed into an orb of pulsing golden light. He tumbled through the open space and into the bathroom where he bobbed up and down, waiting for Olice to join him.
Olice folded herself around Skye. Together, and just as effortlessly as she’d lifted him, they vanished into a pulse of golden brilliance. The orb was twice the size it would normally have been. Olice followed after Gab, and pushed her way through the broken window. The boy followed, and they both vanished from sight.
The house was plunged into the gray darkness of early morning. The moon scepter in Leona’s hand let out a plaintive glow that did little to light the room. With the light of the elves gone, everything looked to be made of shadows. Libby eased the sun scepter out of the sheath at her back, but it had recently seen a lot of action, and it gave off a weaker glow than Leona’s.
Libby stepped carefully away from the door, making her way toward Leona. Before she could get too close to the smaller human girl, the door blasted open in a shower of splinters that peppered the gathered group. The ravens held up their hands, warding off the attack. Rowan stood where she was, letting the splinters cascade around an orb of wyrd that had apparently been around her the entire time.
Libby, the closest to the door took the brunt of the blast. The force of the door thundering in on them threw the elf forward as if a giant hand had punched her. She tumbled past Leona, and didn’t stop until she slammed into the broken couch.
Leona shrieked and jumped, wooden barbs slicing her here and there. Her arms, raised up before her face, took the brunt of the attack.
Daniken filled the doorway, the frozen wooden horns on her head nearly scraped the top of the doorframe as she stepped inside. She shrugged as if apologizing for the wreckage she’d made of the door.
“I got tired of waiting.” Her eyes fell on the moon scepter in Leona’s hand. “I see you got your scepter after all?”
“You were right,” Leona said, lifting the scepter a little. “Looks like a discarded scepter can be used by other people.”
“Except it wasn’t discarded,” Daniken reminded her. “You murdered me.”
“Apparently not well enough,” Leona commented.
“What can I say?” Daniken shrugged. “I’m a woman with her secrets.”
“Maybe we can make it last a little longer this time,” Leona said.
While Leona had been talking, Libby was already on her feet. She dashed at the dark elf, lifting her scepter out to the side, preparing for a powerful blow. The tip of the scepter glowed gold as it arched toward Daniken, on a trajectory with her face. But a new power filled the dark elf, and she was much faster. When she moved, she attacked in a blur of speed that Leona could just barely see. Her hand struck out, her nails hardening to a gleaming silver edge as if they were tempered steel more than flesh. Daniken’s nails tore their way through Libby’s throat before the light elf could react to the movement. Her hands scooped out Libby’s windpipe. Blood thrummed in a geyser out of her throat. Her sun scepter clanged to the floor, and as Libby fell to her knees, her hands clasped ineffectually to her ruined neck.
Her mouth worked, but no sound came out. Blood burbled between her fingers. She tumbled backwards, her eyes staring
blankly at the ceiling, the blood pooling in a crimson tide among her delicate golden braids. Her legs thrashed once; twice; and then fell still.
Daniken flicked the gore from her hand and onto the light elf. Scarlet clumps of flesh peppered Libby’s ashen face.
Fire flared around Rowan’s hands as Daniken stepped around the fallen figure. Fire roared as Rowan brought her wyrd to bear on the elf. It lashed out of her hands like a flaming vortex, spiraling toward the frozen elf. The plume of orange flames wreathed Daniken, and the dark elf stumbled back, almost fell over Libby, but caught her footing at the last moment. Beneath the barrage of Rowan’s flames, Leona could see a great orb of silver white ice surround the elf. The fire hissed and sizzled against the frozen sphere.
Leona hefted the moon scepter, took aim at the orb of ice Daniken had erected around her to ward of Rowan’s flames. The tip of the scepter spun and began to glow with her intent. It spiraled open, and Leona thrummed her fingers hard against the scepter. A beam of pure silver light shot out. Her aim was true. The ice orb shattered under the beam from the scepter. The silver wyrd slammed into Daniken, hurtling her out the door.
Her body contorted, shifted, burst apart into a shower of silver incandescence and then merged with the light of the scepter. Daniken vanished into a swirl of silvery smoke, and then was gone, disappearing over the top of the neighbor’s house.
“Come,” Huginn said, striding toward the door as she flicked shards of door from her sleeves.
“She could be out there anywhere!” Leona argued, though she was hot on Huginn’s heels, not wanting to be left behind.
Rowan fell in step beside Leona. Muninn gazed at Libby, sadness ghosting across her face. The sun scepter burst apart in a tinkle of music. Leona turned at the sound and watched as the scepter dissolved to golden dust. Libby’s body followed suit, crumbling like glittering ash. A ghostly wind billowed through the door. The ashes were caught in the wind which swirled them about the room, gathering them up in a whirlwind of glimmering points of light. The vortex spiraled passed Leona and out the door.
The Call of Winter (The Harbingers of Light Book 6) Page 3