by Jim C. Hines
Jig clung to the railing with both hands as a burst of frigid air fought to throw him down. In the valley, the elfhawks were flung to the ground as if they had been struck by a giant. They landed near the front of the orc lines. Some of the elves leaped down to fight. Others tried to urge their hawks into the air.
Beside Jig, Darnak leaned into the wind, his arms quivering as though he too were fighting to fly. Jig squatted to retrieve Genevieve’s scope.
‘‘It doesn’t work,’’ he complained.
Darnak reached over, swapped ends, and pressed the scope back into Jig’s hand, all without looking away from the hawks.
This time when Jig looked through the scope, it was as if he stood on one of the farmhouse roofs, close enough to reach over and touch Theodore and his battered elves. That they had survived the crash at all was amazing, but none looked ready for battle.
The orcs cleared a circle as Billa strode toward them. The closest elves drew their glowing swords. The hammering of the wind robbed the elves of their usual grace. Billa, on the other hand, seemed untouched by the wind, which was completely unfair. And her sword had no trouble cutting through the elves’ magical armor.
‘‘Use the rod, you daft boy,’’ Darnak shouted. ‘‘Use the bloody rod, damn you!’’
As if he could hear Darnak’s voice, Theodore pulled the Rod of Creation from its sheath and pointed it at Billa.
Billa swung her sword.
‘‘Earthmaker preserve us,’’ Darnak whispered.
The Rod of Creation was the most powerful magical artifact Jig had ever seen. Which admittedly wasn’t saying a lot. But Jig had seen what the rod could do. Created by Ellnorein, one of the greatest wizards in history, the rod had the power to create dragons and destroy mountains. For thousands of years, songs had praised its godlike magic.
Billa’s sword sheared it in two as if it were nothing more than a rotted stick. A second blow, and Theodore fell. Billa stepped back, allowing her orcs to swarm over Theodore and his elves. Blue feathers as tall as a man swirled in the wind. A few of the elfhawks fought their way free, wings pounding hard enough to knock their attackers back.
‘‘Theodore,’’ Genevieve whispered.
Billa turned toward the wall, seeming to look right at Jig.
Jig yelped and flung the scope away. He started to shove his way back to the ladder, but a gust of wind drove him to his knees.
He pressed his back to the railing for protection. Those nearest Jig crouched low, battered by the wind. Most of them were still pressed against the other railing, watching the prince’s failed attack. So Jig was the first to notice as the snow swirled together, flakes clinging to one another until the shape before him began to resemble a tall, fluffy woman.
Get out of there, Jig.
How? Jig asked. It’s between me and the ladder!
That’s not an it, said Shadowstar. That’s Isa.
Jig had already recognized her from the vision Shadowstar had shared. The snow packed tighter and tighter, forming ever-finer details. Isa’s exposed skin turned clear as any stream. Icy fingers flexed and stretched. She appeared to wear a tight gown of snow, far too low-cut for this weather. The snow clung to her bulky form like silk.
‘‘Hello, Jig.’’ She glanced at Darnak, then turned her head to take in the rest of the humans gathered on the wall. Flakes of snow fell from her hair, reminding him a little of Braf. Braf had developed a nasty scalp condition lately, and even Shadowstar’s magic was having trouble curing him.
Jig scooted to the side and tugged Darnak’s jacket.
‘‘Not now,’’ Darnak said softly. The wind whipped his beard as he stared out at the field. His face was wet with tears.
Jig grabbed his beard and tugged hard.
‘‘Eh? What’s—’’ Darnak spun. ‘‘What in the name of Earthmaker’s singed beard is that?’’
Isa spread her arms, and the temperature dropped still further, until Jig had to close his mouth to keep his spit from freezing. He flattened his ears, then reached into his cloak to check on Smudge. The fire-spider was curled into a tight, fuzzy ball, and he wasn’t moving. Jig cupped him in both hands and held him close to his chest.
‘‘I am Isa of the Winter Winds. I am the Frost Maiden. It was I who first summoned the snows of the north, and it was I who banished them again at the end of winter.’’
‘‘What did she say her name was?’’ Genevieve asked.
Isa sighed, sending a puff of frost from her mouth. ‘‘Never mind.’’
She’s crazy, Shadowstar whispered. Even a limited manifestation like this uses a great deal of magic. She could draw Noc’s attention before she’s ready.
‘‘I wanted to give you and your god one more chance to join me.’’ Isa smiled at Jig, though the effect of those gleaming icy teeth was less than reassuring. She crouched beside Jig. ‘‘Billa would prefer I freeze the blood in your veins and bring you to her as a frozen dessert, naturally.’’
Darnak thrust Jig to the floor and gripped his war club with both hands. ‘‘For Theodore!’’ he shouted, and swung his club at Isa’s head.
The metal-studded wood shattered. Isa reached up to brush a bit of snow and wood from her shoulder.
An arrow ricocheted from Isa’s neck. She waved her hand, and the wind flung three of Genevieve’s archers from the wall.
Between the fallen humans and Darnak’s broken club, only an idiot would continue to attack. Jig turned expectantly to Genevieve. But the princess was smarter than her brothers. Though she had her sword drawn, she didn’t try to use it. With her other hand, she gripped the inner railing. ‘‘I am Genevieve Wendelson, Princess of Adenkar. I presume you’re the goddess who murdered my brother.’’
‘‘Billa murdered your brother,’’ Isa said. ‘‘I just gave her the weapon to do it.’’
Isa turned her back on the princess and bent toward Jig. Her breath frosted the lenses of his spectacles. ‘‘Wouldn’t you like to be on the winning side this time, Tymalous? You could be a true god once again. Your name would be sung throughout the world.’’
Until the rest of the gods showed up to destroy us, Shadowstar muttered. He sounded wistful.
‘‘Whatever our differences, we belong together, Tymalous. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about me.’’ She reached up to stroke Jig’s ear.
Jig didn’t know whether Isa was going to kill him or kiss him. Nor did he know which frightened him more. Kissing a goddess of ice . . . he remembered what had happened after the first snowfall, a month or so back. One of the goblins had dared Braf to lick a steel shield that had been left out in the cold. Even after Shadowstar healed his tongue, Braf had talked with a lisp for several days. Jig had no desire to freeze his lips to a goddess.
Actually it’s kind of fun, said Shadowstar. The trick is to—
I don’t want to know!
Jig cracked his fingers to check on Smudge. The fire-spider cringed at the cold, tightening his mandibles. Faint flares sparked from his bristles as he struggled to warm himself. The poor spider couldn’t take much more of this. Neither could Jig, for that matter.
Genevieve’s cloak dropped over Isa’s head. ‘‘Darnak, now!’’
Darnak leaped to help the princess. They yanked Genevieve’s cloak, trying to drag Isa over the edge of the wall.
It was a good plan. Being formed of ice and snow, Isa should have slid easily across the platform. Maybe her feet had frozen to the branches beneath. Or maybe she was just heavy. Either way, she didn’t budge. One hand ripped the cloak away and tossed it to the wind. The other shot out, grasping Genevieve by the throat.
Even as she choked Genevieve, she continued to talk to Jig in that gentle, terrifying voice. ‘‘You could be God of the Autumn Star once again, bringing comfort and peace to your worshipers. It’s what you are.’’ She stood, hauling Genevieve into the air. Darnak picked up Genevieve’s dropped sword and slammed it into Isa’s arm, with no effect.
Tymalous Shadowstar sighed. She
doesn’t miss me. She needs me. Once Noc is dead and his curse ended, the other gods will remember her. She can’t hope to fight them all. Her only chance is to plead for peace. My power could influence things in her favor.
To Jig, he almost sounded disappointed.
‘‘Well?’’ Isa asked.
Tell her . . . Shadowstar paused. Tell her that what I am requires me to protect my son. Just as what she is requires her to be a heartless, frigid—
‘‘He says he’ll think about it,’’ Jig said.
Fog snorted from her nostrils. ‘‘Indeed.’’ Faster than Jig could follow, she grabbed him by the throat. Smudge grew hot enough to singe Jig’s palms. ‘‘Perhaps I can encourage him to make up his mind.’’
Darnak slammed his shoulder into Isa’s side. She scowled, but fortunately for Darnak, she was out of arms. Otherwise she probably would have tossed him off the wall.
‘‘Sorry about this, Smudge,’’ Jig whispered. While Isa’s attention was on Darnak, Jig closed his hand around Smudge and reached out until the fire-spider was directly over Isa’s head.
In that instant, as Smudge figured out what Jig was about to do, the fire-spider burned hotter than Jig had ever known. With a hiss of pain, Jig dropped Smudge into Isa’s hair.
Steam shot from the top of Isa’s head. Her eyes widened. She tossed Jig and Genevieve aside. She reached up to swat her hair, but Smudge had already melted down into her head. Isa’s eyes crossed as Smudge sank behind her face. Jig could see Smudge scrambling to climb out, but all he accomplished was to widen the icy pit in Isa’s head.
‘‘Cursed goblins,’’ Isa said. Water dripped from the corners of her mouth. ‘‘Billa will—’’
At that point, Smudge reached the neck, and Isa collapsed. The wind died down, and the biting chill began to ease a bit.
Is she dead? Jig asked.
It takes a lot more than a frightened fire-spider to kill a god.
Isa toppled over, nearly smashing Darnak’s toes. Darnak was helping Genevieve to her feet. Jig crouched over Isa’s body, watching as Smudge dug his way out of the back of her neck. Still steaming, he scurried up Jig’s leg, where he sank his mandibles right through Jig’s trousers, biting his thigh.
Jig clenched his teeth and tried not to scream.
With that, Smudge crawled back into his pocket on the inside of Jig’s cloak.
When Jig climbed down from the wall, he found a group of goblins waiting for him. Trok, Relka, and Braf stood near the front.
‘‘ ’Ware the ice!’’ Darnak shouted from the wall.
Jig leaped away as Darnak and one of the humans tossed the remains of Isa’s manifestation onto the street. She shattered like glass, scattering shards of ice in all directions.
‘‘What was that?’’ Trok asked.
‘‘Nothing,’’ Jig said. The last thing he wanted to do was admit that Billa the Bloody really had a goddess on her side.
Sure, but so do you, Shadowstar said.
Can you control the weather and manifest in Billa’s army and start throwing her people around like toys?
Braf shifted his spear to his left hand. With his right, he picked up a glistening ice finger and sucked on the end. ‘‘Is it all over? What did the prince turn Billa into?’’
A broken shriek made Jig jump. One of the elfhawks flew overhead, blood trailing from its chest. Another perched atop the wall, where an elf was climbing down from its back. Falling from its back, really.
The first hawk flew straight for the huge trees in the center of town. Jig could hear squawks of protest from the smaller birds.
‘‘He didn’t turn her into anything, did he?’’ Relka asked.
‘‘Billa killed the prince,’’ Genevieve said as she descended the ladder. She rubbed her throat, then turned to stare at Jig. ‘‘How does an orc come to command such power?’’
‘‘She’s the champion of a god,’’ Jig said. ‘‘A mean, scary god.’’ He watched as a stray dog darted from the side of the road to snatch a chunk of ice. The dog trotted away, crunching merrily on a bare foot.
‘‘You fought Billa before.’’ Genevieve tilted her head as she studied Jig. Red marks circled her neck where Isa had squeezed. ‘‘And now you’ve stopped . . . what was her name again? No matter. You saved my life.’’
‘‘I saved my life,’’ Jig said. ‘‘Smudge did the hard part.’’
Genevieve actually smiled at that. ‘‘Perhaps I should send your spider out to fight Billa.’’
From the wall, Darnak leaned out to yell, ‘‘Princess! We’ve got a hawk from your father and a kobold from Billa.’’
Genevieve waved him back. ‘‘Goblin, you—’’
‘‘Jig,’’ Relka said. ‘‘His name is Jig Dragonslayer.’’
Genevieve’s jaw tightened, but she nodded. ‘‘Jig. I didn’t believe your companion when he said you killed my brothers. Now I do.’’
Jig stepped back, one hand moving toward his dagger. Genevieve’s smile was a dangerous one. Her expression reminded him of Grell. Grell always smiled like that right before she gave Jig a particularly nasty duty.
‘‘My father has decreed that all goblins be killed on sight,’’ Genevieve said. ‘‘For murdering Prince Barius and Prince Ryslind, you are to be drawn and quartered.’’
‘‘Drawn and quartered?’’ Jig glanced at the other goblins, who looked as confused as he felt. A few had drawn weapons, sensing the threat even if they didn’t understand it. Shadowstar whispered briefly in Jig’s mind, explaining the phrase in graphic detail. Jig’s legs went soft, and he sat down in the snow. ‘‘Oh.’’
‘‘I will spare your life,’’ Genevieve continued. ‘‘If you slay Billa the Bloody for me.’’
Relka laughed. ‘‘You think Jig Dragonslayer fears your threats, human?’’
Jig said nothing. Genevieve wasn’t as frightening as Billa or Isa, but Genevieve was much closer. He was fairly certain his goblins could overpower her. But what would that accomplish, other than to turn the rest of the humans against him? Billa and Isa were still out there, and Isa was probably quite annoyed at Jig for melting her head.
‘‘Why me?’’ Jig asked.
‘‘Billa and her goddess want you.’’ Genevieve nudged a bit of Isa with her foot. ‘‘You could get close to her.’’
‘‘Sure I could,’’ Jig agreed. ‘‘Billa has to get close to me so she can feed my eyes to the wolves!’’
Tell her to spare all of the goblins, Shadowstar said.
What?
Tell her you’ll face Billa, but only if she convinces her father to let your people live in peace.
What about letting me live? Jig asked. In peace or otherwise?
I’ll be with you.
Why does that not make me feel any better?
Still, Jig wasn’t exactly in a position to argue. ‘‘If I fight Billa, you humans have to leave us alone. Forever.’’
‘‘That choice is my father’s, not mine,’’ Genevieve said. ‘‘But I’ll do what I can.’’
Jig blinked. Where was the angry pride, the humiliation at having to deal with a lowly goblin? She had agreed far too easily. ‘‘And I want a new sword,’’ Jig said.
‘‘Done.’’
‘‘And maybe something to eat that isn’t pickled?’’
Genevieve’s lip quirked. ‘‘Anything else, gob—?’’ She glanced at Relka. ‘‘Jig.’’
‘‘I’ll think about it and let you know.’’
‘‘Very well.’’ Genevieve turned toward the wall. ‘‘I’ll return shortly. I look forward to hearing your plan.’’ With that, she hurried back to the ladder and climbed up to talk to Darnak.
Jig stood and tested his legs. The knees still felt a bit wobbly, and his thigh throbbed where Smudge had bitten him, but he didn’t collapse.
‘‘So now what?’’ asked Braf.
Jig rubbed his thigh. ‘‘That’s a good question.’’ All he wanted was to run away, but there was no place to run. The gates
were likely to be guarded, and if he climbed over the walls, he would have to deal with that blasted steelthorn on the way down. Not to mention that Billa would never stop hunting him. Between Isa sniffing after Shadowstar and the kobolds following Jig’s trail, there was no place he could go where he would be safe.
That’s not quite true, Shadowstar said.
What do you mean?
It’s time for you to become a champion of Tymalous Shadowstar.
Wait, you mean you were serious? Jig sat back down. You really want me to fight Billa?
You fought her before, and you won.
I ran away before she could kill me, Jig said. It’s not the same thing. And I don’t think she’s going to let me shove another torch in her face.
I’ll help you.
How? By making me stupid again? Jig shook his head. No, thanks. I can get myself killed without your help.
I didn’t make you stupid, Shadowstar said. I made you unafraid.
Same thing, Jig muttered.
Very well, Jig. I hoped it wouldn’t come to this.
Come to what?
Shadowstar’s silence was far more unnerving than anything the god might have said.
‘‘He’s mumbling to himself again,’’ Trok said.
The only response came from Braf, who asked, ‘‘Are you sure?’’
‘‘Yes, I’m sure,’’ Trok said. ‘‘Can’t you see his lips moving?’’
‘‘Oh. Well, if you say so.’’ Braf blinked, and it slowly occurred to Jig that he hadn’t actually been talking to Trok. His bleary eyes focused on Jig. ‘‘I’m sorry about this, Jig.’’
‘‘Sorry about what?’’
A burst of heat from Smudge was Jig’s only warning. And then Braf slammed the butt of his spear into Jig’s head.
CHAPTER 13
Even to a god, the universe was a place of mystery. The realm of the gods was an extension of the gods themselves, a universe built on grudging consensus, constantly evolving with the whims of its inhabitants.
Tymalous Shadowstar stared up at Noc’s star, burning black in the sky. The dark flames swallowed the light . . . even light from within. Certainly Noc would never think to search inside his own star. Even if he did, the odds of discovering the second, smaller star burning inside his own were slim at best.