Winter Witch (22 page)

He just didn’t have time to figure out what that purpose was.

“Stay behind me,” said Declan. When Ellasif and Jadrek jutted defiant jaws, he explained, “Liv and I look more like the jadwiga. You three are our guards.”

Liv smiled and moved up to slip a hand into the crook of Declan’s arm. Her touch was surprisingly warm, and he noticed that she did not shiver in the cold air despite lacking a heavy cloak. That was another spell she had that he didn’t. For an instant he hoped she would decide to come away with them. Not only would that please Ellasif, but Declan looked forward to learning how Liv’s presence affected her sister’s tough demeanor. Already he had seen them squabbling like sisters, but he believed there had to be more to their relationship.

“Only until we leave the city,” cautioned Ellasif.

“I’m not leaving the city,” Liv said. “But I will see you safely outside the walls.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Ladies,” said Declan. He nodded toward a group of guardsmen in tabards depicting the image of a hut on chicken legs. Liv clutched his arm tight, and behind them Ellasif gasped.

“Royal guards,” whispered Liv. “If they stop us, you’ll never get away.”

“What do we do?” Declan asked.

“If they ask, you’re escorting me to the Frosthall Theater.”

Behind them, Olenka and Jadrek fell into the same flanking positions they had adopted when they first dared to walk the streets of Whitethrone. Declan had to admit they looked convincing in the role, but taking up the rear position, Ellasif fixed such a disgusted expression upon her face that he almost laughed aloud, spoiling the illusion.

The guards eyed them as they approached. One whispered an inquiry to his commander, prompting the man to stare at Declan, who wondered what was wrong with the way he looked. He had sheathed the lighted blade of his sword, and surely his clothing was no more unusual than what he had observed on the young jadwiga the night of his arrival.

They came within ten feet of the other group. Just as it seemed they would pass without challenge, one of the guards pointed past Declan’s head and gasped in alarm. Before Declan could turn to look at what surprised the men, Skywing plummeted once more onto his shoulder, clutching him tightly. Even through the thick cloak, Declan could feel the warmth of his body and the quick beat of his heart.

There you are
, thought Declan. He was finally getting used to thinking rather than speaking his thoughts to the drake.
Where have you been?

Skywing did not answer, but Liv squeezed his elbow. Declan returned his attention to the guards. Their commander looked him directly in the eyes. When Declan returned his gaze, the officer offered him a smart salute and led his men away.

As the guards departed, Liv leaned up toward Declan’s ear and whispered, “See? Already the guards think you belong here. Perhaps you should stay and learn true witchcraft with me.”

Declan smiled both to be polite and to mask his fear, but the way Liv smiled back at him made him think perhaps he was playing with fire. A glance back at Ellasif’s disapproving countenance confirmed his assumption. He faced forward and continued walking west. The houses and shops they passed became less and less ornate as they approached the western wall. When it came into sight, he saw that a portion of the stone barrier had collapsed. Dozens of missing stones were embedded in the ground where they had fallen, yards away from the gap. Declan realized it had to have been some mighty force that caused the breach, not simply disuse or erosion. Judging from the weathered faces of the displaced stones, the sundering had happened hundreds of years earlier. For whatever reason, the custodians of the city had left the gap unrepaired.

“Wait,” said Olenka. “Where are we?”

She stiffened, and Declan could almost see the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. He followed her gaze to the people in the area. They appeared to be tall humans at first glance, little different from those he had seen elsewhere in the city. Then he noticed they all had long snowy manes and their eyes were as blue as an alcohol flame.

“We’re in the Howlings,” Liv said. “Here the winter wolves walk on two legs. Do not be afraid. I have been here before.”

“By yourself?” Ellasif’s hand strayed to the grip of her sword as a group of white-haired men and women approached.

Liv hesitated before answering. “Well ...”

“What have we here?” said a woman almost as tall as Jadrek. Her nostrils flared as she made a show of sniffing their scent. Her eyes surveyed the Ulfen, finally settling on the winter wolf tail that hung from Ellasif’s belt. “There’s an air of rebellion about this lot.”

“Stand aside,” said Liv. Her tremulous voice undermined the command. “If you interfere with us, I shall tell my mistress.”

“And what shall you tell her, little one?” said another of the wolves. This one wore the shape of a man, and his voice was like the first crack in an ice floe. Something worse would break soon. “That you have been captured by your own thralls?”

Declan felt his bladder threaten to let go. He knew that any moment someone would attack, even weaponless as Jadrek and Olenka were. If they did, they would draw the attention of twenty or thirty more of these winter wolves in human clothing. They were everywhere, looking out of windows or pausing in their strolls to witness the confrontation.

“My mistress ...” began Liv, but her voice trailed away. Declan felt her hand trembling upon his arm. Skywing’s claws dug more deeply into his shoulder. He heard the scrape of Ellasif’s sword leaving its scabbard.

“No,” he said to Ellasif. She shot him a defiant look.
Tell her to trust me
, he sent to Skywing.

Done
, replied Skywing.

“Well?” demanded the female wolf. Her lean body and arrogant posture reminded him of a combination of Olenka’s intimidating physique and Ellasif’s aggressive posture.

“Her mistress entrusted her to my protection,” said Declan. He straightened his back in a desperate imitation of confidence.

The wolf in woman’s clothing scoffed. “Is that meant to impress us?” She sniffed at Declan and a shadow of doubt crossed her eyes. “You are not jadwiga Elvanna. Who are you?”

The slightest hesitation would spoil his bluff, so he replied at once, “Declan Avari.”

The wolves appeared unimpressed.

“Pernilla’s son,” he added. He lifted his chin with a confidence he did not feel.

The wolf woman repeated the name slowly, as if trying to remember where she had heard it before. Declan’s heart sank. He had never known his mother’s maiden name. If they should demand it, his ruse was done.

“Pernilla of the Crooked House,” he said.

The wolves looked at him, their mouths half-open. For a mad instant, Declan expected their tongues to loll out as they panted. Instead, they stepped close and sniffed at him, their noses only inches from his body. Unlike the humans behind him, their breath formed no frost upon the air.

The winter wolves looked to each other and then turned back to Declan. “Forgive us, young lord,” said the female. “It has been long since your mother left Whitethrone.”

Declan did not dare to push his gambit further. He nodded, tight-lipped, and led his companions past the monsters.

They walked along in silence, passing through the broken wall and beyond the houses built outside the city. Outside, the winter wolves went on four legs more often than on two, although a few retained their human forms as they went about their business. Yet here there were no other guardians—no men, no goblins, no trolls. They stepped out onto the high bluff west of the city. Before them, a half-frozen stream ran south to spill over the cliffs into Glacier Lake, and nowhere in sight was anyone who might stop the group.

“That was brilliant!” said Liv. For a moment she seemed much younger than her fifteen years, but Declan could not help beaming at the praise.

“Yes,” said Ellasif. She plucked Liv’s hand off of Declan’s arm and put her own arm around her sister’s shoulders. “He is indeed cleverer than he looks, but we must put many miles between us and this accursed city before we rest.”

Jadrek and Olenka murmured assent.

“You can go,” said Liv. “I promise to do everything I can to mislead the guards Mareshka will surely send after you, but I’m not going with you.” She shot a pointed glance at Olenka and added, “I’m safer here than in White Rook.”

“We won’t go back there,” Ellasif promised.

“But you must, Ellasif,” said Jadrek. “You are needed.”

The big man’s pleading tone tied a knot in Declan’s stomach. The elders might have sent Jadrek to fetch Ellasif, but he obviously had more personal reasons to want her back.

“Never,” said Ellasif. “I’m done with White Rook. I go where I chose.” She gripped her sister’s arm and stepped out to lead the way west.

“What about Liv?” Declan asked. “Why doesn’t she get to choose where she goes as well?”

Ellasif stopped dead. Her mouth worked silently for a few seconds before speaking. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m her sister.”

“As someone you tricked into traveling to Whitethrone to be handed over to the witches, I can tell you it doesn’t feel like a friendly thing to do, much less the act of a loving sister. You say I’m cleverer than I look, but I must be an idiot to believe we had become—friends.” His face was hot, and he choked out the last words before he humiliated himself completely. He turned to address the whole group.

“I’m not one of your people,” he said instead. “You’ve told me only hints of what happened before Ellasif left the village, but it seems to me you’d all be a lot happier if you just stopped trying to make each other’s choices. I’m going to assume you’ve given up trading me to the witches. Now stop trying to make Ellasif go home. Stop trying to make Liv leave
her
home. You’re all supposed to be friends. Two of you are family. Act like it.”

Everyone stood still. Jadrek moved toward Ellasif, but Olenka stopped him. When he turned to her, she whispered something Declan couldn’t overhear. Whatever it was, it made the big man’s shoulders slump, and tears appeared on Olenka’s cheeks. Jadrek put his hands on her shoulders, and she pressed herself against his chest.

Liv pulled her arm out of Ellasif’s grip, but she didn’t walk away. She put her arms around her sister and whispered into her ear. They bent their heads together and hugged each other.

That’s a start
, thought Declan.
At least everyone has someone to hold. Everyone but me, anyway.

Skywing squeezed his shoulder and curled his tail gently around Declan’s neck.

Don’t eavesdrop
,
Declan sent.

Couldn’t help it
, said Skywing, without a trace of apology.

Chapter Nineteen

The Last Laugh

Liv accompanied them as far as a high rugged hill near the cliff’s edge. It provided shelter from the wind as well as from the eyes of any sentries with especially keen vision. Ellasif thought of the enormous spyglass she’d seen emerging from the observatory and wondered whether Mareshka could command it to sweep the surrounding land to spot them. She discarded the notion as a ridiculous fear, realizing the winter witch had far more immediate means of locating them. Mareshka had appeared so soon after Ellasif first arrived at Szigo’s grove that she probably had to do little more than snap her fingers to reach them. It was only a matter of time.

“Here is where I leave you,” said Liv. The words felt like knives in Ellasif’s heart, but she understood now that it was wrong to force Liv to do anything she didn’t choose. Still, the temptation to throw the girl over her shoulder and carry her out of Irrisen was strong.

“Will you look for me?” asked Ellasif. “Have you learned how to look through a mirror or a pool of water and see where I am?”

“Not yet,” Liv said. “But I will.”

“I only wish there was a way I could also see you.”

Liv looked at Declan, who stood a short distance away scratching under Skywing’s chin. “Perhaps if you ask, Declan will cast a spell for you. I imagine there is little he would not do for you, if you ask.”

Ellasif scoffed, but the sound was unconvincing even to her own ears.

“That is, if you make up your mind before Jadrek pushes him into the lake.”

“Liv!” Ellasif could not believe she would make such a joke after what had happened to her at the river.

“I suppose that was in bad taste,” said Liv. “It all seems like a bad dream now. I can’t even be angry with Olenka. I see now that she’s just a scared and ignorant girl. If only she’d grown up in a city like Whitethrone, she would see things differently.”

“I didn’t grow up in Whitethrone,” grumbled Ellasif. “And neither did you.” She didn’t like the way her little sister was looking down at her, even if she deserved it—
especially
if she deserved it. But she could no longer deny the obvious truth: Liv did not belong in White Rook, nor in any place where Ellasif was likely to feel at home. No matter how much she wanted her sister to be with her, Ellasif had to let her go where she willed.

They smiled sadly at each other, each finally seeing in her sister’s eyes the understanding she had craved all this time. They embraced, holding each other tightly enough to squeeze out their breaths. At last Ellasif released Liv and kissed her cheeks.

“You will choose your own life,” she said. “Make it a good one.”

“And you do the same, sister. With whomever you choose to share it with.” She winked and ducked away before Ellasif could respond.

Liv walked away without farewells to the others. Ellasif was not surprised she had nothing to say to Jadrek or Olenka, but she thought Liv had begun to warm to Declan. Perhaps that was the reason she didn’t say goodbye to him.

Skywing called out a warning, and Ellasif caught it like an echo. The shadow of a bird passed over them, and then Mareshka’s blue-white familiar plummeted down toward Declan. Its frosty breath blasted over his face and chest. Ellasif saw that the imp’s true target was not the man but the dragon. Skywing leaped off Declan’s shoulder and led the imp out over the gelid lake.

“Witch!” bellowed Jadrek. From the opposite direction, a white raven swooped and unfolded into the shape of Mareshka. Feet barely denting the snow, she moved slowly toward them with her staff above her head, shaking it to the sky. That blue-white expanse answered with a torrent of hail. Fist-sized chunks of ice beat Jadrek and Olenka to the ground and sent Declan retreating toward Ellasif.

Declan stopped and gestured as if smearing grease in an enormous pan before him. Ellasif saw the air shimmer for an instant, and then an invisible shield was deflecting the hailstones to either side of Declan’s body.

Ellasif drew Erik’s sword and ran a few steps forward, but Declan put out a hand to stop her. “Wait,” he said. “The storm will pass.”

It couldn’t pass soon enough for Jadrek and Olenka. They covered their heads with their arms, but without shields they could do little to blunt the impact of so many icy stones. They crouched low, and the accumulated ice rose and collected around their feet, freezing them in place.

Skywing swooped past, and Declan nodded as though some silent message had passed between them. Ellasif overheard nothing this time, but as the sprite followed the little drake’s trail, Declan summoned a little blob of greenish yellow goop into his hand and hurled it toward the imp. The elastic ball widened as it flew toward its target, splashing with a hot sizzle all over the tiny monster. The elemental screamed with a sound like shattering ice.

The moment she saw the tide of hail subside, Ellasif ran toward Mareshka.

“Don’t kill her!” Liv shouted. “Please, Sif!”

Ellasif leaped at the witch, sword swinging high. Mareshka raised her staff in both hands, catching the blade on the wooden shaft. Where the weapons met, a blast of blue light shot out, dazzling Ellasif and sending her tumbling high into the air. Mareshka laughed and thrust the staff upward, launching spears of ice toward Ellasif.

Liv shouted again, this time a torrent of indecipherable syllables. A blast of wind flew from her hands and scattered the ice spears before they reached Ellasif. The missiles sank deep into the frozen ground.

Ellasif fell hard. A sharp stone caught her in the side, and she felt a rib break, maybe two.

Behind her, Jadrek and Olenka battered the ice with their fists.
If only they had fetched weapons before
leaving the city
, Ellasif thought for an instant, and then she was focusing once more on the immediate threat.

Skywing shot toward Mareshka. She blocked him with her staff, but his barbed tail whipped around to strike her in the neck. She shrieked her anger, but he darted away before she could grab his wings. The elemental fluttered down, wounded and panting in frustration at chasing the swifter foe.

A sizzling sound approached Ellasif from behind. She moved even before Declan called, “Look out!”

A ball of fire the size of an ale keg rolled past her. Declan directed it with a gesture, making it circle Jadrek and Olenka. A few times they cried out, “Too close!” Declan adjusted accordingly, but melting them free was slower that way.

Ellasif ran back toward the winter witch. She feinted high but swept the blade low across Mareshka’s knees. The staff was too slow to defend, but the sword’s edge barely cut through the witch’s robes, leaving only shallow wounds to bloom across the fabric. Like Declan, the witch had an invisible shield protecting her.

“Stupid barbarian,” spat Mareshka. She made a claw of one hand, stabbing it toward Ellasif’s belly. It felt as though a steely hand had reached into her body and clutched her guts, twisting them. The agony tore Ellasif’s breath away and kicked the legs out from under her.

Liv lunged past her, reaching for Mareshka’s staff. Ellasif tried to warn her of the danger of touching the weapon, but she could not speak. Mareshka cackled, and every utterance magnified the pain in Ellasif’s body.

Liv grabbed the staff and pulled, but no ward stung her. She tried to wrench it from Mareshka’s grip, but the older woman was stronger.

“Don’t think that because you know a few spells you are a true winter witch,” Mareshka said. “Stand back, girl, and watch what power can be yours if you remain obedient.”

A low roar grew louder as Jadrek rushed forward. As Mareshka turned to face him, she winced in the face of the full-throated battle cry of an Ulfen warrior. She pulled at the staff, but Liv clung tight, denying her the use of the weapon.

The witch’s icy familiar flew straight into Jadrek’s face, biting and clawing. It was far too small to divert the warrior’s charge, but it blinded him long enough for Mareshka to step aside and conjure a spell independent of her staff. With a flourish of one ringed hand, she blew across her palm. Her breath turned to fog, and the fog shot forth in a glacial blast. It lifted Jadrek and hurled him over the cliff’s edge.

Olenka screamed, still struggling to free herself from the half-melted bonds.

“Skywing!” shouted Declan.

Skywing shot out over the cliff and plunged after Jadrek. It was a futile effort, Ellasif knew. The little drake could never hope to lift him, much less catch him from a fall.

Declan thrust his hands toward the witch’s sprite and made hooks of his fingers, which he swept over his face as though tearing off a mask. The elemental took one look at him and shrieked, flapping away as fast as his damaged wings could carry him.

“You bloody-handed bitch!” screamed Olenka. She flung a chunk of jagged ice the size of a goblin’s head toward Mareshka. Her aim was perfect, but the witch dodged just enough to avoid decapitation. The sharp edge of the ice left bright red scrapes across her face.

Mareshka hissed. She pushed Liv to the ground and regained control of her weapon. She swept the butt of the staff upward. Motes of frost sparked along the shaft, and a sheet of razor-fine slivers of ice sang across the air to bury themselves in Olenka’s chest and belly. The barbarian screamed in impotent anger as a dozen fresh wounds spurted and oozed in the cold air.

“Now to finish this.” Mareska raised her staff and whirled it twice around her head as she turned toward Ellasif. Frost danced along the length of the staff, congealing into heavier and thicker particles before lengthening to form sharp icicles. The witch whipped her staff toward Ellasif.

Liv threw herself between them. “Don’t—”

Blood splashed across Ellasif’s face. She blinked and wiped her eyes clear. Before her stood Liv, wobbling like a drunk. Her fragile body was transfixed by sword-long shards of ice, all of them dripping blood.

Ellasif heard screams all around her, the voices melting into an infernal chorus. Time slowed, as did the beating of her heart. As through a frosted window, she saw a vague image of Declan throwing himself at Mareshka. The witch lifted her staff to fend him off, but he grasped it tight. No spells threw him back, but the horned head glowed brighter and brighter. He was screaming at Mareshka, who was screaming back at him, but Ellasif could not understand their words. Her gaze followed Liv’s ruined body as it fell gently into the snow beside her. She reached for her hand. Liv’s head turned toward her.

“Sif,” she said. “Listen.”

Above them, the light of Mareshka’s staff outshone the sun, blotting out its golden light in a blue-white nova. The explosion knocked Ellasif’s head upon the ground. She raised it again to see Declan, clutching half of the witch’s staff in either hand, flying over the cliff.

All of the men are gone
, she thought.
And all the women are dying
.

Liv’s eyes followed Declan’s plummeting arc, and she breathed a few words after him. Her eyes closed, and she died with a faint, sad smile upon her lips.

“No,” said Ellasif. Liv’s last words had been for her, not Declan. Why had the girl wasted them?

Ellasif climbed awkwardly to her feet. If the witch’s spell still worked on her, she could no longer feel the pain. There was nothing left inside her but a cold gray void, the winter wind whistling through a hole where her heart had been. She could not feel her legs, and she dared not take a step lest she fall on her face. She raised Erik’s sword and said Mareshka’s name, although all she could hear was a constant dull ringing.

The witch turned toward her. Mareshka’s face was burned red, and a bright torrent of blood spilled down from a wound beneath her hairline. She sneered at Ellasif, revealing black gaps where the blast had knocked out her teeth.

Ellasif threw Erik’s sword. The blade scraped by Mareshka’s ear, severing the tip. Both women stared in surprise as the little flap of flesh fell away from her head. When it struck the ground, Mareshka laughed.

Blood bubbled out between the witch’s broken teeth. Ellasif fell to her knees, numb to the impact. She watched as the witch tottered toward her, chortling as she drew her knife from its sheath.

The laughter got inside of Ellasif. She felt it bubble up in a geyser, hot and sudden, like the child who giggles during a funeral, not knowing how her emotions became so tangled, helpless to correct the insane reaction and dreading the inevitable reprimand from her parents, or the gods. She laughed because she had finally released her unwanted grip upon the one she loved most, only to watch her die at the hands of the woman she had chosen over Ellasif. She laughed because she understood the cruel irony of Lady Luck, who laughed as often as she smiled.

But also Ellasif laughed because she knew Erik’s sword would hear her.

Mareshka choked and fell silent. Her knife dropped from nerveless fingers as she looked down at the full length of Laughing Erik’s sword protruding from her chest. She turned to meet Ellasif’s gaze, but by then her sight had faded with the laughter. The winter witch fell forward onto her face and died.