The Winter King
Page 183
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Wyrn have mercy. Khamsin’s betrayal struck deeper and hurt more than any wound he’d ever known. It twisted and writhed inside him, burned and froze, broke him from the inside out.
A low, keening moan ripped from his throat, the cry of a wounded wolf. Tears, freezing into chips of ice as they fell, tumbled down his cheeks, and he slammed his forehead repeatedly into the tree’s rough bark, welcoming the physical pain, hoping it would alleviate the other.
“No. No! Nooooo!” His head flung back, and he loosed the howl into the night sky. A flurry of startled birds took flight.
“She has betrayed you.” Each word was like a needle, burrowing under his skin and digging deep into his bones. “There’s only one way to stop her. Only one way to make her pay for what she has done.”
“No,” he whispered.
Reika continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Embrace your power, my king—”
“No.”
“Claim what is yours by right—”
“No . . .”
“Punish her for the wound she has dealt you. Punish them all! Make them suffer! Make your enemies cower before you! You are no weakling! You are the Winter King, and you carry inside you the strength of a god! Use it! Unleash your wrath! Wipe your enemies from the face of this earth!”
The words that had started as sharp needles digging into his skin had now become spikes, each one hammering home with brutal accuracy. Anger built inside his heart, pressing outward against the crushing pain of betrayal. He squeezed his eyes shut and flung an arm over his face to stop the wild winter fury raging inside him from breaking free.
“No, damn you! No!”
“She has found the Sword of Roland. She has brought it to her brother, so that they might slay the forces of Wintercraig with its great power!”
If every other claim was a knife driven into his body, that one was the death blow.
Roland’s sword. The sword Khamsin coveted as much as her brother. The sword that was the source of all his pain.
Khamsin had taken that sword to her brother.
His head lifted. His arm shielding his face dropped to his side.
He had gone completely numb. The hurt over Khamsin’s betrayal was gone, as were the tenderer emotions she roused in him. He couldn’t feel anything except a freezing, ice-powered fury that spread rapidly to every cell of his body. Everything left of his humanity—his consciousness, his emotions, his memories—seemed to shrink, concentrated into a tiny speck of life buried deep inside a vast, impenetrable ocean of ice.
Like an observer trapped inside a body not his own, he felt the form he occupied push off the tree, felt its spine straighten and stand tall. He opened his eyes. The world had taken on a pale blue tint, as if he saw through colored glass. He glanced down at his hands. A coating of clear ice covered his skin. He flexed his fingers, and the ice cracked and fell away, only to re-form an instant later.
He was frozen, inside and out.
Reika stepped out of the shadows of the trees and pushed back the hood of her cloak. Her lips had gone blue, her eyes the color of Wyrn’s sacred, heatless flame, and when she smiled, he heard the faint sound of ice breaking. To her left and right, an army of garm emerged from the depths of the snow-covered forest, and behind them, moving with surprising silence in spite of their size, came a company of fearsome, blue-skinned Frost Giants. In unison, Reika, garm, and Frost Giant alike bowed down before him.
“Welcome back, my lord Rorjak,” Reika Villani greeted. “Long have we awaited your return.”
CHAPTER 27
Carnak
“Summer Sun,” Khamsin breathed. Dismay and dread poured through her as she looked out across the battlefield. “Krysti, give me that spyglass.”
The boy handed it over without a word. She put the glass to her eye.
The Ice King’s army covered the entire breadth of the field. Frozen ice thralls—including humans, wolves, and bears—mingled packs of white, all but invisible garm, and at least eighty colossal blue monsters that stood close to twenty feet tall.
She’d never seen a Frost Giant and only wished that was still true.
They were fearsome, hideous beasts. Manlike in build, but with bulging hairless blue-white bodies, six-inch claws, and wicked, garmlike teeth filling their blue maws. In their enormous fists, they clutched great, serrated swords that looked sharp enough to slice a man in two with a single blow. Correction, sharp enough to slice an entire line of men in two.
She scanned the enemy line, then paused as a tall, mounted figure came into view.
Even from the distance, Khamsin recognized her husband—or rather what had once been her husband—and her heart quailed. A terrible change had been wrought over him. All the warm golden hues in his skin had been leeched away, leaving his skin an inhuman silvery blue that made him look as though he’d been carved from a block of pure ice. A crown of jagged icicles ringed his head, and his unbound white hair blew behind him on the wind, snow falling from it in a mist of white. Where he walked, winter fell in his wake. If anything, he looked more beautiful than ever before—like one of his carvings in the Atrium—but also utterly cold, utterly merciless, utterly deadly.
“Oh, Wynter,” Kham breathed in horror. Unable to bear the sight of the dread creature that now inhabited her husband’s body, Khamsin shifted the spyglass. Her fingers clenched tight as a blue-lipped blonde riding at Rorjak’s side came into focus.
“Reika.” There was no doubt in Khamsin’s mind now of who had killed the priestesses at the temple or why she’d found that ice thrall of Elka beside the Ice Heart. And no matter what else happened, one way or another, before this battle was done, Khamsin was going to dispatch what was left of Reika Villani straight to Hel.
A low, keening moan ripped from his throat, the cry of a wounded wolf. Tears, freezing into chips of ice as they fell, tumbled down his cheeks, and he slammed his forehead repeatedly into the tree’s rough bark, welcoming the physical pain, hoping it would alleviate the other.
“No. No! Nooooo!” His head flung back, and he loosed the howl into the night sky. A flurry of startled birds took flight.
“She has betrayed you.” Each word was like a needle, burrowing under his skin and digging deep into his bones. “There’s only one way to stop her. Only one way to make her pay for what she has done.”
“No,” he whispered.
Reika continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Embrace your power, my king—”
“No.”
“Claim what is yours by right—”
“No . . .”
“Punish her for the wound she has dealt you. Punish them all! Make them suffer! Make your enemies cower before you! You are no weakling! You are the Winter King, and you carry inside you the strength of a god! Use it! Unleash your wrath! Wipe your enemies from the face of this earth!”
The words that had started as sharp needles digging into his skin had now become spikes, each one hammering home with brutal accuracy. Anger built inside his heart, pressing outward against the crushing pain of betrayal. He squeezed his eyes shut and flung an arm over his face to stop the wild winter fury raging inside him from breaking free.
“No, damn you! No!”
“She has found the Sword of Roland. She has brought it to her brother, so that they might slay the forces of Wintercraig with its great power!”
If every other claim was a knife driven into his body, that one was the death blow.
Roland’s sword. The sword Khamsin coveted as much as her brother. The sword that was the source of all his pain.
Khamsin had taken that sword to her brother.
His head lifted. His arm shielding his face dropped to his side.
He had gone completely numb. The hurt over Khamsin’s betrayal was gone, as were the tenderer emotions she roused in him. He couldn’t feel anything except a freezing, ice-powered fury that spread rapidly to every cell of his body. Everything left of his humanity—his consciousness, his emotions, his memories—seemed to shrink, concentrated into a tiny speck of life buried deep inside a vast, impenetrable ocean of ice.
Like an observer trapped inside a body not his own, he felt the form he occupied push off the tree, felt its spine straighten and stand tall. He opened his eyes. The world had taken on a pale blue tint, as if he saw through colored glass. He glanced down at his hands. A coating of clear ice covered his skin. He flexed his fingers, and the ice cracked and fell away, only to re-form an instant later.
He was frozen, inside and out.
Reika stepped out of the shadows of the trees and pushed back the hood of her cloak. Her lips had gone blue, her eyes the color of Wyrn’s sacred, heatless flame, and when she smiled, he heard the faint sound of ice breaking. To her left and right, an army of garm emerged from the depths of the snow-covered forest, and behind them, moving with surprising silence in spite of their size, came a company of fearsome, blue-skinned Frost Giants. In unison, Reika, garm, and Frost Giant alike bowed down before him.
“Welcome back, my lord Rorjak,” Reika Villani greeted. “Long have we awaited your return.”
CHAPTER 27
Carnak
“Summer Sun,” Khamsin breathed. Dismay and dread poured through her as she looked out across the battlefield. “Krysti, give me that spyglass.”
The boy handed it over without a word. She put the glass to her eye.
The Ice King’s army covered the entire breadth of the field. Frozen ice thralls—including humans, wolves, and bears—mingled packs of white, all but invisible garm, and at least eighty colossal blue monsters that stood close to twenty feet tall.
She’d never seen a Frost Giant and only wished that was still true.
They were fearsome, hideous beasts. Manlike in build, but with bulging hairless blue-white bodies, six-inch claws, and wicked, garmlike teeth filling their blue maws. In their enormous fists, they clutched great, serrated swords that looked sharp enough to slice a man in two with a single blow. Correction, sharp enough to slice an entire line of men in two.
She scanned the enemy line, then paused as a tall, mounted figure came into view.
Even from the distance, Khamsin recognized her husband—or rather what had once been her husband—and her heart quailed. A terrible change had been wrought over him. All the warm golden hues in his skin had been leeched away, leaving his skin an inhuman silvery blue that made him look as though he’d been carved from a block of pure ice. A crown of jagged icicles ringed his head, and his unbound white hair blew behind him on the wind, snow falling from it in a mist of white. Where he walked, winter fell in his wake. If anything, he looked more beautiful than ever before—like one of his carvings in the Atrium—but also utterly cold, utterly merciless, utterly deadly.
“Oh, Wynter,” Kham breathed in horror. Unable to bear the sight of the dread creature that now inhabited her husband’s body, Khamsin shifted the spyglass. Her fingers clenched tight as a blue-lipped blonde riding at Rorjak’s side came into focus.
“Reika.” There was no doubt in Khamsin’s mind now of who had killed the priestesses at the temple or why she’d found that ice thrall of Elka beside the Ice Heart. And no matter what else happened, one way or another, before this battle was done, Khamsin was going to dispatch what was left of Reika Villani straight to Hel.
