by Jim C. Hines
Blue chortled so hard he toppled over. “Wag my butt then break the hut!”
“Rip it apart. I’m going after Yog.” Winter released her Will, freezing a path over the water. She strode up the river and through the gates of Grayrock. Fog swirled at her feet. She sucked the air through her teeth. Icicles formed in her hands, razor sharp and magically hardened.
A pair of skulls flew at her. She met them with a blast of arctic wind, and they tumbled harmlessly into the water to either side. Step by step, she strode through the gate and onto the lake, towards Yog.
“Your minions are gone or turned against you.” Winter threw one of her icicles towards Yog. It struck the cauldron, spreading a patch of ice over the metal. “Your time ended long ago.”
Her second icicle followed. Winter formed two more from the moisture in the air. Yog sent more of her bones to attack, but they tumbled into the water, their power stolen by Leech.
“You’re old and weak, Yog,” she called. “The autumn of your life has been long, but it’s time Winter brought that autumn to an end.”
Yog slumped, and for a moment Winter thought she might give up. She looked so weary, like it was taking all of her strength simply to hold her body up. Yog looked at her hut, trapped in the ice, then at the Heroes arrayed against her.
“Surrender,” shouted Sterling. He had climbed onto the wall, where he cut quite the dashing figure. Winter wondered how long he had spent finding just the right angle for that pose, so the sun would highlight his hair and gleam off his drawn sword. “You had the power of a Hero once. Find your courage. The heart of a Hero still beats within you.”
“No,” said Yog, almost too quietly to hear. “Not yet.” She grabbed Kas from within the cauldron and clenched the stone doll in her fist. “I’m sorry, my love.”
Kas seemed confused at first, but when she brought the doll towards her jaws, he began to scream.
Winter grimaced as iron teeth crunched through stone, and the screaming was abruptly cut off.
“Did she just … ?” Shroud asked. Winter hadn’t heard him walking along the path of ice behind her.
“Yes.” Winter felt ill. Despite everything, she had been sceptical of Yog’s story. The idea of literally consuming someone’s power … it was ridiculous, and that was coming from a girl who had sneezed her pet dog to a wall.
Watching Yog now removed any doubt about her claims. Her spine straightened. She spread her fingers, and even from here, Winter could see the stiffness vanish from her joints. Yog clapped her hands, and fire erupted from the skulls orbiting her cauldron. The flames resolved into manlike shapes, warriors of blue fire topped with bone. Other bones merged with the fire, forming partial skeletons.
“They should pose an interesting challenge,” Shroud commented.
“What’s that?” Winter pointed to an oversized, foul-smelling sack tied to Shroud’s hip.
“Souvenir.” He leaned on a hastily cut crutch, and seemed to have lost his bow.
“I don’t suppose you have any more tricks inside that cloak of yours?”
“Let me check.” He began rooting through his pockets.
Winter hurled a blast of cold at the closest of the skeletons. The flames weakened, and a layer of ice began to form over the skull, but the instant she broke off her attack the ice turned to steam, and the flames flared up like the fur of an angry cat.
“Try this?” Shroud handed her a small pot with a fuse sticking out of the top. “Most of them got smashed to pieces when I fell.”
“Fell from where?” Winter shook her head. “Never mind. How many do you have left?”
“Four.”
How many explosives did Shroud typically carry around with him? “Take them to the others. Toss them into the hut and shut the door. I’ll take care of Yog.”
The ice at Winter’s feet crackled with new cold, the path growing wider and deeper. She was a child of the north. A creature of the dark, frigid nights. Her breath was the wind, her skin frost. Her body took on the glassy shine of new-frozen ice.
The skeleton attacked again. Fingers of blue fire reached for Winter’s throat, only to shy away at the last moment. It stepped back, and the skull tilted to one side as it studied her.
Winter smiled and reached into the flames to seize the skull. The heat seared her hands, boiling off her protective armour of ice, but that barrier of steam prevented the creature from burning her flesh.
She stepped to the edge of her ice and dragged the skull down into the frigid lake. The water erupted like a living thing, hissing and bubbling. The ice cracked beneath her, but she held on, forcing her cold into the porous bone, until finally the body of blue fire dissolved into smoke. The skull and remaining bones drifted apart, lifeless.
“That’s one down.” Winter pushed herself onto her back. Her hands were red and blistered. Sweat stung her eyes as she looked up at Yog and the swarm of burning warriors awaiting her command. “Oh, hell.”
Winter jumped to her feet and ran, sliding over the ice towards the gate. Two of the burning figures swooped to intercept her.
Cold blasted from her hands, forming a ramp of ice. She pushed herself faster, using her magic to propel her forwards. She hit the ramp and launched into the air over Yog’s minions. She landed hard and lost her balance, but continued to slide through the open gates and down the river, freezing the water as she went, until she reached solid ground.
“How’s it going with those bombs?” she yelled.
“No good.” Shroud stood atop the hut, along with Sterling and Tipple. Blue cowered behind the fallen hut. “I set off all four, and it hardly even belched. I think it got stronger when Yog did.”
Rook stood at the edge of the woods, his crossbow ready. She didn’t see Greta or Ben anywhere. Hopefully they would remain hidden. Glory and Leech were trying to bring down the remainder of the flaming skeletons, but Yog’s power was too much for them.
Inga ran at the hut, an enormous axe clutched in both hands. She slammed the blade down, and the shaft cracked in her hands. The weapon had sunk about an inch into the wood, but it wasn’t enough to do any real damage.
“The Conclave has an arsenal of barrel-sized explosives,” Shroud commented. “They’re not subtle, but they certainly make an impression. The latest design is packed with nails and scrap iron. Kills anything within a fifty-foot radius. I wish we had a few of those with us.”
“And if wishes were bacon, we’d all die fat,” said Inga. “Unless you have a barrel or two hidden away in one of those pockets?”
“Left them in my other cloak, I’m afraid.”
Winter hurried to join them as the burning skeletons closed in. Sterling lunged at the closest, jabbing Arbiter through an eye socket. He gripped the hilt with both hands, using the blade like a lever to pry the skull free.
Tipple grabbed a chair from the hut. He smashed it over another of Yog’s warriors, battering it until the bones splintered.
Inga’s shield tossed two more back, but it wasn’t enough. The air around them rippled from the heat. Tipple’s makeshift weapon burned to ash in his hands, and Sterling’s sleeve was on fire. Winter extinguished him before the flames could spread.
Yog circled overhead, laughing. A lucky throw by Shroud put a knife square in the centre of her throat, but she tore it free and tossed it aside like it was nothing. Dark clouds slowly swirled together, a maelstrom, with Yog at its heart.
So long as the hut survived, Yog was unstoppable. Winter studied the hut, still twitching on the ground. The broken door frame looked to be slowly healing, the slivers of wood knitting together. “Inga, I’ve seen your shield push enemies about like toys. Can it pull them in as well?”
“Sure.”
“Oh, good.” Winter pointed. “Do me a favour and bring that cauldron down here. I’d like to have a word with Yog.”
Inga’s sword knocked another skeleton back, then she raised her shield to the sky. A glowing chain shot upwards to wrap around Yog’s cauldron. Like a fisher
man fighting a shark, Inga slowly hauled the cauldron lower. Winter half expected to see Inga tossed through the air, but though her boots slid through the mud, Bulwark kept her grounded.
“That’s it.” Inga’s neck muscles were taut as steel. “That’s all I can give you.”
The cauldron was still a good ten feet overhead. Winter spun. “Tipple, give a lass a boost?”
He grinned and laced his hands together. Winter put one foot on the makeshift platform, grabbed his head for balance, and braced herself.
“Punch her lights out for me,” Tipple said, and tossed her skyward.
Winter caught the lip of the cauldron and reached for Yog. Cold sprayed from her fingers, but Yog grabbed her wrist and squeezed. She was as strong as an ogre.
The cauldron tore free of Bulwark’s magic and shot skyward. Yog leaned out and twisted her other hand into Winter’s shirt. Winter tried to hold on to the cauldron, but Yog jerked her loose.
“Pathetic,” Yog taunted her. “Will it break your friends to see you dashed against the rocks, do you think? Perhaps your death will persuade one of them to accept a place as my Rider. That one, Glory, has potential. I could see her leading my assault on Brightlodge.”
“Oh, sure. Because Glory is such a follower.” Winter rolled her eyes.
“It doesn’t matter. They will all burn. If they won’t serve me in life, I’ll feed on their flesh and let their bones serve me in death. But first …”
She bared her teeth. Gleaming scratches cut through the tarnished iron surface where she had bitten into the stone doll that was once her husband. She pulled Winter closer.
Winter gathered the last of her Will and focused it into the tip of one finger, a finger she touched to Yog’s exposed iron teeth. Pain blinded her, but she felt the cold spreading through the metal and into Yog’s tongue and cheeks, locking the jaw in place. A whimper escaped Yog’s throat, then that too died.
Winter caught the edge of the cauldron with one hand as she fell. Though her muscles screamed, she dragged her other arm over the edge. The lip dug painfully into her armpit as she reached out to grab Yog’s leg. Ice spread over the ragged clothing and down to the bottom of the cauldron.
It would be so easy to let go. Every part of her body was exhausted. Her hands burned with the effort of holding on.
Yog’s face was frozen into a snarl. Even her eyes were frosted over. The cold would have killed anyone else. Winter didn’t know how long it would stop Yog.
She pulled herself higher. She hooked one leg over the edge and tumbled into the cauldron. “How do you steer this thing?”
Aside from a few broken pieces of Kas, the cauldron’s only contents were an old, wooden club about the length of Winter’s leg. She grabbed it by one end and the cauldron lurched to the side.
Winter let out a whoop, her pains momentarily forgotten as she flew through the air. Flaming skulls raced to intercept her, but she ducked and let the cauldron batter through them.
She yanked the end of the club to the left, jerking the cauldron sideways. “You might want to get away from that hut!”
As the Heroes scattered, she looped the cauldron around and flew higher, climbing towards the clouds until her friends were indistinguishable specks on the ground below.
Ice cracked. Yog grabbed Winter’s wrist.
“Ah, well. Looks like the ride is over.” Winter slammed the club downwards.
Her stomach lurched as the cauldron began to fall—no, to fly at the ground below. She concentrated her Will on her own body, turning her skin to ice. She nudged the club to one side, lining it up with the hut, then blew every last bit of power she had over Yog. It wasn’t much, but if it held her a few seconds longer …
Her ice-slick arm slipped from Yog’s grip, and she jumped from the cauldron. It continued to accelerate, like an iron boulder flung from the world’s most powerful catapult.
The hut exploded. In the cloud of dirt and wood, Winter couldn’t see what had happened to Yog, but it couldn’t have been pretty.
The ground rushed to meet her, then a glowing shield bumped hard against her side. She tried to cling to Bulwark’s projection. Her grip gave way, and the shield shifted into an enormous hand, wrapping around her body and guiding her down.
She crashed hard into Inga, and the two of them toppled to the ground.
“Winter? Can you hear me?” That was Sterling’s voice. “Why is she laughing?”
Winter turned to look at him. “That was fun!” She lay back, remembering the wind roaring past. Everything hurt, and her head felt like an ice tiger had escaped inside her skull, but she didn’t care. “If Yog had offered to let me fly around in her cauldron, I’d have signed up to be a Rider right then.”
Glory sniffed. “Have you ever come up with a plan that didn’t involve almost getting yourself killed?”
“Sure,” said Winter. “But they’re boring.”
A hunched figure raced towards them. Inga raised her weapon, then laughed. Blue the redcap circled them all, spinning and dancing and laughing. “Dead! Dead and broken and dead!”
“I’d better check to make sure,” said Shroud.
“Looks like her bony friends all collapsed when the cauldron hit the rocks.” Tipple used a slender bone to scratch between his shoulder blades. “I think the redcap’s right. Yog’s done for.”
“Never assume.” Shroud walked purposefully towards the now-flattened cauldron, which sat in the middle of a crater. “Ah, yes. She’s quite dead. The deadest I’ve seen in quite some time.” He pulled a knife and tossed it down, presumably into the body.
“What’d you do that for?” asked Tipple.
“Just making sure.”
“What do we do with him?” Sterling asked, cocking his head towards Blue.
“Do?” Blue scowled. “Blue helped. Saved stupid Heroes!”
“The little bugger also peopled those poisons—he poisoned those people in Brightlodge,” said Tipple.
“As Heroes of Albion, our duty is clear,” said Sterling. “Blue must be brought to Brightlodge to face the consequences of his actions.”
“But we said—,” Winter started.
“You offered him freedom. I merely promised him the chance to help bring his tormentor to justice.” Sterling turned to Blue. “You’ve committed numerous crimes against the people of Brightlodge. As a Hero of Albion, I cannot in good faith ignore those actions. But your actions today will be taken into consideration.”
“That’s not fair,” said Inga. “You can’t judge him for what he did when he was enslaved to Yog.”
“Judge this,” Blue crowed, and kicked Sterling square in the groin. Sterling doubled over. Tipple roared with laughter. Glory smirked.
Leech just shook his head and said, “I’m not healing that.”
Blue sprinted towards the woods and disappeared. Nobody seemed inclined to pursue him.
Winter smiled and closed her eyes, enjoying the cool of the rocks and dirt, and listened to the laughter and outrage of her fellow Heroes.
CHAPTER 24
TIPPLE
Jeremiah Tipple slammed his mug down on the bar. “And that, my friends, is how we rid Albion of a flying cannibal witch and her multitude of minstrous mon—of monstrous minions.”
“That’s total chicken crap,” said the man to his right, who had been listening raptly for the past hour. He was one of several people who had been buying Tipple drinks all night long. “The greencaps, sure. We all saw them. But an old witch flying around in a cauldron, eating stone dolls? Pah.”
“You callin’ me a liar?” Tipple pointed to the other Heroes gathered around a nearby table. “Ask any of that lot. They’ll tell you.”
“What’s going to happen to the refugees from Grayrock?” asked the woman pressed comfortably close to Tipple’s left side.
“Not much left of that place to go back to,” he admitted, sliding one arm around her waist. “The rain last week took out another chunk of the dam. Soon there won’t be anything
left but the river. The survivors seem to be settling into Brightlodge, though. I hear one of them got caught trying to fix the chicken races just last night.”
“I never even heard of a town called Grayrock,” said the first man.
Tipple laughed and clapped him on the back, just hard enough to remind him who he was challenging. “When’s the last time you set foot outside Brightlodge, friend?”
“Leave Brightlodge?” He stared, as horrified as if Tipple had asked permission to set him on fire. “Do you know the kind of things that live in those woods?”
“That’s all well and good,” said another woman. “But Grayrock fell more than a week ago. What about the rest of Albion’s troubles? The White Lady’s still out there, you know. Not to mention trolls, balverines, hollow men, and that greencap dog that keeps stealing scraps from the butcher. When are you Heroes going to take care of all that?”
“Leech’s been working to fix the remaining greencaps. Those who are still alive.” Tipple didn’t understand half of what Leech was doing, but he trusted the man’s cleverness. It sounded like he’d worked out most of the ingredients in Yog’s cure. “As for the rest, don’t you worry. We’ll be setting out first thing in the morning. Why d’you think I’m drinking tonight?”
That met with a roar of approval.
“What happened to Ben and his sister Greta?” asked another voice.
Tipple looked pointedly at his empty mug. Moments later, someone swapped it out for a full one. He grinned and nodded in thanks. “Back with their family, safe and sound. Greta wants to go into the wood-carving business. Turns out she has a knack for it, and Ben had an idea for a line of dolls designed like Heroes.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wooden doll. The painting was a bit uneven, and there was an unsightly knot on the face that looked like a nasty black eye, but it was as solid a toy as any. “By month’s end, you’ll all be able to buy your own miniatau—minatiu—your own Tiny Tipple!”
He took another draught of ale, then looked around the Cock and Bard. Some of his fellow Heroes had retired for the night. Sterling and Winter were dancing to the tunes of an inebriated fiddler. From the way Sterling was jumping and kicking his heels, Blue’s kick hadn’t done him any lasting harm.