“And that wouldn’t be good?” Flea asked.
“No. You don’t want the other army to get in behind you,” Thea explained. “Let’s go.”
After an hour Thea skidded to a stop. She held up a hand, indicating silence. The sounds of the army dominated—we had almost caught up. And perhaps we’d gotten too close as a few off notes reverberated from both sides of the path.
Just as Thea signaled a retreat, shuffles sounded behind us. I had a split second to realize we were surrounded before Tohon’s soldiers burst from the bushes. So focused on following the army, we’d walked right into an ambush. Fear sizzled in my blood, igniting my heart rate. The thought of being captured by the dead almost sent me into a full-out panic.
But instinct kicked in, and the four of us turned back to back, facing the ring of armed men. My pulse eased quite a bit when I noticed they weren’t wearing metal collars, and their gazes held life instead of death. I counted ten of them.
They kept their positions as one man stepped forward. The tip of his sword pointed at the ground despite Saul and Thea holding theirs in an attack position. The thick muscled sergeant studied us for a moment, then said, “You’re not a standard patrol, that’s for sure. Which might explain why you’re in this sector. Did you get lost?”
No one replied.
“You’re not supposed to be here, so no one should miss you.” He paused as if considering the situation.
His comment implied he knew Estrid’s patrol schedule. Spies in her camp were a given, but I had thought the patrol locations had been secured.
“Surrender and you’ll be our first prisoners of war, or die.” He acted as if it didn’t matter to him which option we’d choose.
If I’d been with Kerrick and Belen, I would have laughed at the offer. They could handle ten armed men. However, I wasn’t so confident in Thea and Saul’s abilities. Plus, the desire to protect the newly living Flea pulsed through my chest. I’d surrender if it meant saving his life.
“Flea, do you know how to wield a sword?” Thea asked.
“Yes, sir,” Flea said with a little too much enthusiasm.
“Saul, your first task is to get Mr. Flea a sword,” Thea said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Thea, you can’t—”
“Trust me, Irina. Just like I’ve trusted you,” she said.
She had me there. I shoved my stiletto into its holder and pulled two throwing knives, one for each hand. “Flea, do you remember that trick I played on you with the kissing spider?”
“Yes.”
“All right, that’s enough,” the sergeant said. “Last chance.”
“We will not surrender,” Thea said simply. Before the sergeant could reply, she yelled, “Now!”
Thea and Saul surged forward. I took aim, sending one knife into the sergeant’s upper arm and the second one into the thigh of the man to his left. The ring of metal on metal, curses and the smell of blood soon filled the air as Saul and Thea engaged. I had enough time to throw two more knives before the soldiers closed in.
Switching to my stiletto, I parried a sword thrust, but my weapon was no match against a longer blade. The soldier knocked my attack aside with ease. My stiletto flew from my grasp as the point of his sword poked my chest.
I spread my hands out. “I surrender.”
“Turn around and get down on your knees,” he said. “Hands behind your head.”
Following his orders, I knelt. The clank of manacles sounded as he pulled them from his belt. When he grabbed my left arm to cuff my wrist, I grasped his fingers with my free hand. I zapped him, sending a painful burst of my power into him, overloading his nervous system. With a strangled cry, he collapsed onto the ground. One down.
I glanced at the others. Thea held off three men, including the sergeant. Although injured, he fought with a fierce determination along with two others. Her skills with a sword were impressive. Saul fought three, but he was obviously struggling. Flea had obtained a sword and held his own against one opponent. One man lay in a heap on the ground. Two down.
Stepping behind one of Saul’s attackers, I touched the back of his neck, found the sweet spot with my thumb and zapped him. The man arched back in surprise, then crumpled to the ground. Three down.
A loud clang sounded as Flea unarmed his opponent. “Avry,” he called. Flea aimed the point of his sword at the man’s chest. The soldier held his hands up as if in surrender. I rushed over and touched the back of his neck. Four down.
Saul unarmed another and punched him. The man grunted and fell back. Five down.
Flea had joined Thea, and by the time I reached them, they had knocked two more out. I zapped them just in case. Seven down.
One of the soldiers grabbed me from behind. He placed his knife’s blade on my throat and ordered my companions to stop. They ignored him. I clasped his wrist and sent my magic into him, hurting instead of healing. He jerked and fell to his knees, dragging me down with him. With another blast, he slumped over. I removed the knife from his nerveless fingers. Eight down.
By the time I’d finished, the sounds of fighting had died. Saul, Thea and Flea stood among the prone forms. Ten down. They looked rather smug and none the worse for wear. Although, I checked Flea despite his protests, making sure he was well.
I zapped the last three ambushers to ensure they would remain down. We grinned at each other for a few moments, catching our breath.
“How long will they be out?” Thea asked.
“They’ll be unconscious for three to four hours,” I said.
She nodded. “That’ll give us enough time to catch up to the main group.”
“But shouldn’t we report back?” I asked, thinking another run-in might not end as well.
“Not until we determine where they’re going and what they’re planning to do.”
“What happens when these guys wake up?” Flea pointed with the sword.
“If they’re smart, they’ll return to their base,” Thea said.
“And if they’re not?” Flea asked.
“They’ll chase after us,” I said.
“If they can find us.” Saul smiled.
He could smile. He didn’t have to worry about keeping Flea safe. I opened my mouth to retort—
“Relax, Mom. We’ll protect him,” Thea said.
“I can take care of myself,” Flea protested.
“He’s handy with that sword,” Saul added.
Memories of his vacant stare and blue lips flashed in my mind. Jael had sucked the life from Flea without touching him. I looked at each of my companions, seeking their undivided attention. “Not all dangers are physical. And if the dead soldiers we’re following discover us, all your skills will be useless.”
Saul and Thea exchanged a glance as if they were trying to decide if they should humor me or not.
Flea caught what he probably thought was a mistake. “Wait. Did you say dead soldiers?”
“A lot has happened since you died, Flea,” I said.
“She can explain her theories to you later,” Thea said.
Theories? I gave her a Kerrick look—flat and cold.
“On one level, I know you’re telling the truth, but on another I just can’t wrap my mind around it. Can you understand that?” she asked.
I could.
“Let’s go before the enemy gets too far ahead of us,” Thea said. “I don’t want to trigger another ambush, so this time we’ll slow down and stop frequently. Watch for my signal.”
We stayed close to her, pausing when instructed and listening for sounds of an attack. As the day wore on, I noticed the path we’d been trailing thinned. The light noise of the soldiers’ passage was punctuated from time to time with a strange rumbling noise that vibrated through the soles of my boots. The sounds eventually diminished until I could no longer hear them. Then their tracks faded. We stopped.
“Did we miss a turn?” I asked.
“No way. The path was clearly marked,” Thea said.
> Thinking about Ursan and his jacks, I glanced up into the treetops. No movement aside from the light breeze rustling the leaves. No signs of anyone hiding up there either. With that many, at least a couple of their weapons would glint in the sunlight.
We continued northeast for another hour, but saw nothing to indicate anyone had passed this way.
Over two hundred dead soldiers had disappeared.
KERRICK
Noak stepped back and gestured for Kerrick to stand. The sounds of fighting filled the forest around them. His army had engaged the tribal warriors, but Kerrick didn’t dare take his gaze off his opponent. Keeping a tight grip on his sword, Kerrick pushed to his feet.
“I see you, Magic Man,” Noak said as he settled into a fighting stance.
Kerrick released the magical camouflage; he had a bad feeling he’d need all his energy.
Noak’s dadao shot forward. Kerrick countered the thick sword just in time. Fear shot through him. Yep, this wasn’t going to be pretty. Noak struck again and again. Kerrick scrambled to protect himself. His actions switched to pure survival mode as Kerrick countered Noak’s lightning-fast attacks. Kerrick blocked and dodged, but the big man had more speed, strength and endurance. The leader was relentless, and Kerrick’s skills inadequate.
As the cuts multiplied on his arms, legs and torso, Kerrick wondered why Noak didn’t press his advantage when he had the opportunity to deliver a killing blow.
Panting with effort, Kerrick swept his sword too wide and Noak’s dadao sliced a deep gash across his stomach. Kerrick stumbled back, and Noak followed, knocking the sword from Kerrick’s hand. Then Noak reversed his sword and punched Kerrick in the ribs with the hilt.
The sickening crunch of bone accompanied an explosion of pain. Kerrick dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. Noak gestured to the skirmish nearby. The tribal warriors fought with a fierce intensity. Blood stained their white uniforms, but Kerrick doubted it was their own blood as they cut easily through his soldiers as if reaping hay. Outnumbered and outmatched, his army lay broken and bloody. Grief and rage filled him, erasing his pain. Kerrick shook the trees with his magic, signaling a retreat before they all died.
With a surge of energy, he hopped to his feet and charged Noak. The leader raised his dadao and struck Kerrick hard on his temple. Blackness claimed him.
* * *
Intense pain shot through his arms, waking Kerrick. Sunlight stabbed. He squeezed his eyes shut as the throbbing in his head caused nausea to swell. Kerrick drew in deep breaths. Each one caused a sharp stab of misery. How many of his ribs were broken? His foggy memories swirled with fear and death—a nightmare that refused to fade.
He needed to remain calm, so he concentrated on his present situation. Lying on his side on the ground, every muscle ached and the sting of multiple cuts flared along his arms and legs. His shirt, still damp with sweat and blood, stuck to his skin. A gash on his right temple burned, and a deep slice along his stomach pulsed with pain.
Trying to relieve the cramps in his arms, Kerrick discovered his wrists had been tightly secured behind his back. And his ankles had been lashed together. With a quick glance through stilted eyelids he confirmed his dire situation. The tribesmen had captured him. He sought his army with his magic. A few of his soldiers fled south. Otherwise, the pale northerners occupied most of the forest. He hoped the rest of his men had obeyed his signal and retreated.
Despite his list of woes, he was alive. But for how long? At least Danny and Zila had gotten away. He hoped his brother, Izak, would heed their warning and evacuate Orel in time.
He recalled his fight with the tribal leader. Even though Kerrick had fought with every skill he possessed, it hadn’t been enough. On the positive side, he still had access to his forest magic. He opened his eyes and surveyed what he could with his limited view. It appeared as if the tribesmen were preparing for travel.
No guards stood near him, so he tapped into the forest’s energy and camouflaged his body. When a shuffle of boots approached, he struggled to his knees, hoping to catch the man by surprise.
Instead a hand clamped around his neck. The instant Noak touched him, Kerrick’s magical connection to the forest was severed and replaced with a cold that gripped him in icy fingers, freezing him to his core.
Two more tribesmen arrived. They yanked him to his feet. His injuries burned with pain. Kerrick was now eye-level with Noak, who still grasped his throat.
“More soldiers coming?” he asked Kerrick.
He refused to answer. Noak pressed his thumb into Kerrick’s windpipe as the cold intensified. Kerrick felt as if his entire body had turned to ice. Part of his mind wondered what type of magician could do that, while another screamed at him to fight back. But he couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe.
Noak eased his grip. Kerrick swayed in relief as the cold receded enough for him to pull air into his lungs.
Touching one of the scars on Kerrick’s neck, Noak said, “Magic Man, you will help us.”
“Not a chance,” Kerrick said.
A fleeting smile twisted his lips. “You understand we never take prisoners, yes?”
Fear traveled through him like a crack snaking along a frozen pond. “Yes.”
“Do you know why?”
“No.”
“It is a...kindness to kill.” Noak let that sink in, before adding, “If you don’t help, you will wish to be dead.”
Kerrick’s back burned with remembered pain. Estrid’s men had whipped him, trying to get him to divulge Avry’s location. It hadn’t worked then, and it sure as hell wouldn’t work now. He stared at the man, refusing to be intimidated.
Another spark of amusement flashed in those ice-blue eyes. “I like a challenge, Magic Man.” He squeezed.
A bone-aching, teeth-chattering chill raced through Kerrick’s body. His muscles stiffened into immobility as his extremities burned with cold. Kerrick’s heartbeat slowed, and taking a breath required an immense effort, as if icicles had formed inside his lungs.
Noak released him, but Kerrick remained frozen.
“Winter’s Curse. You understand?” Noak asked.
“No.” Kerrick forced the word out.
“Slow cold death. So slow winter’ll be here and gone before you. Cold like fire, consuming you as you turn to ice from the inside out. Your magic gone.” Noak poked him in the chest. “Nothing like it.”
Noak gestured to the two men standing next to Kerrick. They removed his bindings, dragged him over to a tree, sat him down and, even though he couldn’t move, they secured his wrists behind the tree’s trunk. The metal pinched his skin. And he noted that the pain felt greater than it should.
Squatting next to him, Noak said, “We hunt what is left of your—” he half smiled “—army. When I return, you will help.”
By the time Kerrick could say the word no, the leader had strode away. A brief spark of worry for his soldiers gave him a momentary distraction, but soon the bite of cold deep in his body made the pain from his other cuts and bruises fade to nonexistence. He would have yelled if he had the breath. Instead he fought the slow suffocation with sips of air.
It didn’t take long for Kerrick to agree with Noak. This was a torture like no other. Being whipped seemed pleasant in comparison. And the thought it would continue for months almost sent him over the edge. But he refused to give in. He concentrated on Avry, recalling her kind sea-green eyes, her stubborn pout that he loved but would never admit to her, and her determination.
He wondered if her touch would break this curse. But would she be dying a slow, cold death in his place? He didn’t know enough about Noak’s magic to answer that question. Either way, he’d never endanger her.
As the hours, days, maybe even weeks passed, Kerrick’s existence shrank to the cold misery feasting on him and the endless effort to draw a breath. When a familiar pair of snufa-skinned boots came into his limited view, Kerrick didn’t know if he could refuse Noak again.
The tribe’s leade
r knelt next to him. “Ready to cooperate?”
Kerrick’s body screamed in agreement, but he couldn’t betray his people. “No.” Through frozen lips, the word was barely a whisper.
Noak met Kerrick’s gaze. He nodded as if he’d been expecting that answer, then glanced to his right and gestured.
Shuffles of feet and a muffled shout reached Kerrick before two tribesmen carried a squirming bundle into sight. Bound and gagged, Danny’s expression showed more anger than fear.
“How about now?” Noak asked.
CHAPTER 11
The dead soldiers had completely disappeared. We had spent the rest of that day and most of the next searching for them, or for signs of their passage in the forest. Nothing.
When the sun touched the horizon, Thea said, “That’s enough. Time to report back to the major, and let him decide what to make of it.”
As we hiked toward Zabin, Flea stayed by my side, asking questions. Well aware that Thea and Saul could hear, I deflected the ones that I thought Jael shouldn’t know about.
We had been away for six days, and it took us another two days to reach the outskirts of Estrid’s main army. Two days without encountering anyone—friend or foe. But as soon as we heard a patrol around midafternoon on the third day and determined it was one of ours, Thea flagged them down.
They hadn’t seen any of Tohon’s troops in this quadrant, but a couple of his patrols had attacked their lines to the southwest, drawing Estrid’s men to that area. Thea warned them of a possible ambush, then we moved on.
She stopped a couple more patrols before we arrived at the rather tranquil base. Most of the buzz was over the skirmishes to the southwest. The soldiers thought Tohon was testing their response since the clashes hadn’t lasted long before Tohon’s soldiers retreated. While Thea and Saul reported to Major Granvil, I headed straight for Ryne’s tent with Flea in tow.
I burst through the tent flaps with a huge smile on my face, but the place was empty. Flea yawned—it had been a long day.
“Stay here, and I’ll see where everyone’s at,” I said.
Flea plopped onto Ryne’s cot near the back of the tent and was soon fast asleep. I hesitated at the tent’s entrance, afraid to leave him alone. I wondered if it was just my nurturing instinct or something deeper. Examining my feelings, I felt this odd attachment to Flea that went beyond friendship. Like that of a mother bear—fiercely protective. Was it due to his death or because we shared a bond since we’d both been revived by a Peace Lily?
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