by K. M. Shea
Chosen troops flooded the courtyard, until it was a sea of black and crimson uniforms. Rakel waited until they were almost on the Verglas troops, then erected a wall as tall as the city walls in front of the municipal building. It was not as impressive as the wall she had built previously, but with Farrin distracted and the strength-user subdued, it didn’t need to be. Rakel raised a similar wall on the opposite and perpendicular sides, creating a cramped arena.
Chosen soldiers beat on the walls for several moments—testing to make sure they couldn’t bust through it—and Rakel used their distraction to build more of her power.
“Make ’em run for their mothers, Little Wolf,” Phile said, startling Rakel.
“Have you lost what little common sense you possess? Why are you not with the troops?”
“I didn’t want to miss the show. It sounds like it’s gonna be a good one. Remember: make it flashy, and they’ll forget your only magic is ice and snow.”
Rakel grit her teeth to refrain from shaking her friend. “You’re going to make things more difficult. With you here, I’ll have to worry about avoiding you.”
“No, you won’t. I’m gonna go perch on wolfy’s cage. You couldn’t hit her anyway, or you would release her. Good luck.” Phile scaled the cage holding the shapeshifter. The shifter—in her snow bear form—swiped at her, but Phile dodged her, pulling herself onto the cage roof. She rapped her knuckles on the roof, making the shapeshifter snarl.
Rakel shook her head and slipped to the center of the penned-in courtyard. She looked up to the storm cloud hanging overhead—which she hadn’t dismissed in spite of taking care of the weather-boy—and nudged it with her magic so it blotted out the sun.
She extended her arms—her fingers spread—and ice began to spiral out and away from her, crawling across the ground in precise patterns. The ice formed a giant snow flake, with her at the center. A push from her magic, and it began to rotate, gliding across the ground. It was for appearance’s sake—part of the show Phile had mentioned—but judging by the panicked shouts of the soldiers, they hadn’t figured that out.
Rakel held out her hand, and a staff of ice a head taller than her grew from the ground up. The staff had no magical purpose, but it was supposed to get the soldiers’ attention, and it did. When she raised the staff in the air, they looked up, shouting and gasping as dozens of swords and pikes formed out of ice formed above their heads. They were not as precise or as beautiful as they should have been—Captain Halvor asked her to fashion them after the weapons of the elite palace guards, but as Rakel had last seen one at age ten, she had little more than a foggy notion to base them on.
Whether they saw the resemblance or not, the Chosen soldiers stampeded over one another as they ran at the ice walls. They pounded on the ice, howling with panic.
Several ran at her, but Rakel froze their boots to the rotating snowflake, and made ice crawl up their weapons—which they threw away in their fear.
The wind picked up, playing with Rakel’s snow white hair as she forged the last few ice swords. She had created over three hundred weapons, and it was taking a hefty bit of her power to keep the weapons aloft.
“You will pay for occupying land that is not yours,” Rakel said. The wind stole the words from her mouth, but she must have been loud enough, for the soldiers started jabbing at the walls with their blades.
Rakel squared her shoulders and fixed her eyes on the wall in front of the municipal building. Moving with great care, she started releasing the swords so they dropped from the air, whistling when they hit the ground. Though the ice weapons hit some of the soldiers, thanks to Rakel’s precision they killed no one. She turned in a circle, dropping the ice swords and pikes on the next wall, and the next wall, until she had rained havoc on all of the soldiers—drawing blood and shrieks of fear. Next, Rakel used the fallen weapons as temperature anchors, and dropped the temperature of the courtyard until it was so cold, the soldiers had trouble breathing.
Rakel was still able to function normally, so she built two more cottage-sized ice snowflakes on the ground, and set them spinning.
When the soldiers started dropping like flies, Rakel knocked out the two short ends of the courtyard. Verglas soldiers had opened the gates during Rakel’s fight. She eased off the temperature—letting it rise—and instead concentrated her magic on building a twisted column made of ice swords stacked together. It twined around her like a spiral staircase and glittered as the sun burst free of the storm clouds.
Rakel yelled. The spiral of swords cocooning her burst outward, stabbing into the ice walls and slicing many of the soldiers. The Chosen troops ran, moving through the two open ends of the courtyard like herds of goats. They poured from the city, fleeing in fear and terror, without supplies, without most of their weapons, and without Farrin.
Rakel experimentally pushed her shoulders back, smiling when she felt nothing pulling her from consciousness.
“Beautiful, Little Wolf!” Phile shouted. The red kerchief that covered her dark hair flapped like a flag as she waltzed across the courtyard. “It was pulled off flawlessly! It’s almost not quite fair that you have perfect military luck and an army of handsome men at your beck and call. If I weren’t your bosom friend, I might be jealous.”
Rakel felt her hair slip from its tight braid. “Maybe, but—” she cursed and fell to her knees when her strength abruptly gave out and the sight of the retreating soldiers started to turn hazy.
So losing consciousness is my price—but it seems that it is not extracted from me until I am finished wielding my magic.
Phile caught her, keeping her head from hitting the ground. “Rakel, will your magic stay up with you unconscious, or do we have to worry about the mages?” Phile asked.
Rakel—clear-minded even though she lost the ability to open her eyes—said, “It will stay.” Her limbs were so heavy, she couldn’t move them. It was as if she had been buried in packed snow.
Why couldn’t Captain Halvor have been wrong this time? she thought. Then she lost all consciousness.
CHAPTER 14
THE AFTERMATH
Rakel sat up before she could even open her eyes and blindly threw out daggers of ice in fear and panic.
“Rakel—Little Wolf! Stop—you’re safe!”
Someone shook her by the shoulders as her eyes finally focused.
Phile sat on the edge of the bed, her grip on Rakel still firm. She was in a room—not the plain encampment room—but a bedroom that had simple wooden furniture, a cheerfully lit fireplace, and a number of shredded pillows that had ice sticking from them like arrow shafts.
Gerta and Kai peered out from behind the ruined pillows, their delight brightening their faces even though Rakel had nearly hurt them. “You woke up!” Gerta chirped, throwing herself on the floor by the bed.
“I don’t know if ‘woke’ rightly describes it,” Phile snorted. She released Rakel and patted her on the head. “How do you feel?”
Rakel placed a hand over her erratically beating heart. “Confused.”
“Do you hurt anywhere? Do you have any pain?” Phile asked.
Rakel shook her head.
“Good.”
“How long was I sleeping?” Rakel asked.
“A day!” Gerta said.
“Almost a day,” Kai said, gravely shaking his head. “You were just a few hours short.”
Rakel grimaced. “Longer than the last time, then.”
“Yes, but you used a lot of your magic—not only during the battle, but when you were fine-tuning your ability to produce ice swords,” Phile said.
“Should I go get some stew for the princess, Mistress Robber Maiden? I imagine she will soon be quite hungry,” Kai said.
“Please. Gerta, would you get her something to drink?”
“Aye-aye, Captain!” Gerta said, snapping a salute with her wrong hand. She trundled out of the room after Kai, humming as she went.
“Where am I?” Rakel eased back down in the bed, recovering
her breath from her bout of panic.
“Glowma. We took the city after you scared most of the soldiers outta town.”
“I remember that. What happened to Farrin and the other mages?
“Frodi got them out with his fire magic. He almost made himself sick eating a pot of stew—that’s part of his rules for magic: he can’t cast more energy than he’s consumed—but he got them out by sunset.”
“But what about Farrin?”
“Ah, yes. Ragnar’s elf-warrior friend took care of him.”
“Did you say elf warrior?”
“Mhhmm. Mystical being—real big into trees and such. You haven’t heard of them before?”
“No.” Rakel flattened her lips, disappointed with her ignorance. I will research them when this war is over.
“Can’t say I’m surprised—they’re rarer than a unicorn sighting—but I thought with all your book reading you might have seen something. Anyway, Farrin put up a good fight and got her pretty good a few times, but she struck him unconscious right after your grand finale. His little minions took him and ran.”
“And Captain Halvor let them?”
“He didn’t make the call. He’s been in the infirmary with a thigh wound—he’s fine, but he lost an unhealthy amount of blood and was out of it.”
“Was it Oskar, then?”
“Of course not. He would have had Farrin’s heart on a pike. No, Oskar was holding talks with Glowma city officials and the Verglas army officers that were held prisoner here.”
“Then, who?”
“Me, of course!” Phile said with a broad smile.
“You let him go!” Rakel shouted.
“Of course.”
“Stop saying ‘of course’!” Rakel threw a pillow at her. “Why would you do that?”
“Say ‘of course’? I guess it’s a catchphrase.”
“No. Why would you let Farrin go?”
“Because you call him by his first name.”
Rakel stared at her, torn between pelting the Robber Maiden with snow and smothering her with a pillow.
“Don’t give me that look. You’re the one that has some kind of strange relationship with him,” Phile said, holding her hands up.
Rakel was aghast. “Relationship?” She was so unsettled and shocked, she couldn’t keep her jaw from dropping.
“Yes. You are friends—which I approve of, you know. He is even more handsome than Captain Halvor and Oskar, if you go for the brooding, mysterious type. Haven’t you noticed?”
Even though she had been unconscious for nearly a day, Rakel felt very tired. “No, I have not spared any thought or time to consider whether or not Farrin was attractive. I’m trying to save my brother and a country. Now, please explain why you felt being on a first-name basis meant he was free to run off.”
Phile smiled at her like a pleased dog. “It’s because there was a very real chance that Oskar or Captain Halvor would have him executed before you woke up. Naturally, my only option was to let him go.”
“No, there were at least half a dozen options you could have chosen from.”
“Then would you have approved of his execution?”
Rakel sighed. She’s not going to drop this, so I may as well move on. Although it is interesting that she also noted some oddities in his behavior… “I hope Oskar and Halvor have made you pay for your actions?”
“Yes. Halvor won’t talk to me.”
“And Oskar?”
Phile jutted her lower lip out. “Oskar is much meaner and more deviant, did you know that? He took Foedus.”
“And you let him?” Rakel asked, shocked.
“Of course not. Who do you think I am, a sniveling maiden? I stole it back the moment he turned away,” Phile said, flipping the hideous dagger out of her sleeve.
“I got goat milk!” Gerta announced as she ran back into the room, carrying a mug and a wooden pitcher.
Rakel held the mug as Gerta poured. When the little girl watched her eagerly, she took a cautious sip. “It is delicious. Thank you.”
Gerta almost jumped in her joy. “I’m glad you like it! Kai is getting you some bread to go with your stew, too. Master Oskar and Captain Halvor are with him.”
“I believe I suddenly have a need to stretch my legs,” Phile said, popping into a standing position.
“Phile,” Rakel said.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be back to regale you with stories later—when I’m certain I won’t be abused for the genius of my ideas.”
Phile got halfway across the room before Oskar and Captain Halvor filled the doorway.
“Princess, I’m glad to see you are looking so well,” Oskar said with a dazzling smile.
Captain Halvor glared at Phile, who meekly planted herself on the wall. “How do you feel?” he asked, gingerly standing still so Kai—carrying a wooden tray piled with food—could maneuver around him.
Rakel pushed one of her blankets down and took the tray from Kai, smiling at him in thanks. “Fine. You were right. Falling unconscious after using great amounts of my magic appears to be my price,” she said, working hard to keep a scowl off her face.
Captain Halvor nodded. “I guessed as much when it took longer for you to awaken. It seems that the more power you use, the longer you are unconscious.”
Just wonderful, a price that plays on my fear of being caught unaware—though I expect many would think it’s a soft price compared to the power it gives me. Instead of voicing her complaints, she opted to change the topic. “How is Glowma?”
“Filled with celebrations—you’ll be expected to attend your fair share, of course,” Oskar said.
“The battle went as well as we could have hoped for. Although, it would have been ideal if we had retained control over the mages,” Captain Halvor growled.
“Yes,” Oskar said, giving Phile a scowl of displeasure.
The Robber Maiden had her back to a wall and was smiling like an innocent child. Gerta and Kai stood with her, watching the exchange with interest.
“Any sign of a counter-strike?” Rakel asked.
Captain Halvor shook his head. “They had quite a few losses from the alleyway skirmishes and fights. Most of them were injured, and they left without any sort of gear or medical help. They’ll have to return to a larger outpost to regroup.”
“The gates have already been repaired—an easy job as you merely destroyed the hinges. Tollak laid some magic on the gates to make them stronger and fire resistant,” Oskar added.
“And our soldiers?” Rakel asked.
“We had some losses,” Captain Halvor acknowledged.
“Having Liv in our ranks, however, has significantly cut down on our injury-related deaths,” Oskar said, referring to the only other female magic user. Her specialty was purification—of water, wounds, food, and the like.
Rakel smiled. “I am happy to hear that.”
Oskar snapped a nod. “As we all are. Are you strong enough to get up?”
“She hasn’t eaten yet!” Gerta said.
Oskar smiled at her. “Ahh, yes, how rude of me—little Gerta is correct. You must eat first.”
Rakel self-consciously glanced at her tray of food. “I imagine I’ll be able to get up shortly.”
“Excellent. A seamstress has been altering one of your dresses so it is more appropriate for a celebration. She would like for you to try it on so she can see what else it requires.”
Rakel frowned. “Is that necessary?”
“The dress or the celebrations?”
“Both.”
“Yes, they are necessary, Princess,” Oskar said. “The citizens of Glowma have been clamoring to see you, and there will be important people among the guests. You will enjoy the parties—I promise.”
“What about our plans for marching to Ostfold?”
“Snorri is already traveling there to scout out the situation,” Captain Halvor said.
“Good.”
“In the meantime, your main concern should be interacting with
your new supporters, while your old ones recover,” Oskar said.
Rakel looked to Phile—hoping she would object—but the Robber Maiden was gone. She held in a sigh. “Very well.”
“Excellent! First thing—we must set about introducing you to the merchant guild leaders. They might be willing to lend us funds. Pordis is the one you should concern yourself with the most, but there are others…”
Farrin blinked and tried to keep his breathing even in spite of the pain.
Sunnira glanced up from his wound and shook her head. “You should have killed the princess when you had the chance.”
It was only Farrin’s longstanding friendship with Sunnira that kept him from feeling more than irritation. Killing Rakel was never an option—though it had taken him several meetings to realize that. “I am reluctant to slaughter a fellow magic user,” he lied.
“Then you should have let Kavon’s assassination attempt carry through,” she said, brushing a lock of her chestnut hair out of her face. She returned her gaze to his shoulder—knitting muscle and skin together with her magic.
Farrin was again thankful he was lucky enough to have Sunnira as an officer serving under him. She was one of their best healers and had saved his life—and the lives of the other magic users in their unit—more times than he cared to remember.
He kept his face blank even though his body was wracked with pain—healing was not a soothing experience. “It wouldn’t matter. These wounds aren’t from Rakel.”
“Don’t be a fool. If they didn’t have her, the Verglas resistance wouldn’t have ever formed.” Though her words were sharp, her fingers were gentle as she probed the healing wound. “If you can’t stomach killing her, then dispatch others to do it for you.”
“Don’t overstep your boundaries, Sunnira,” Farrin said, letting his displeasure show in the weight of his voice. “We might be longtime friends, but I run the north armies, not you.”
Sunnira sighed. “I know—you have Tenebris’s trust just as you have mine. He trusts you to take the northern part of Verglas. But what is it about this royal girl?”