A freezing wind blew outwards as Tallow pushed open the tall doorway to the library, ruffling her hair and biting into her skin. She heard Cassanya exclaim next to her, the leonin raising an arm to shield her face from the chilling cold.
“Sorry,” Tallow whispered as the window abated. “I should have expected that. I think the whole darkness and cold is just a deterrent to intruders, makes sense that it would be stronger inside the buildings, especially here.”
“You think?” Cassanya raised an eyebrow.
“Well I don’t know what else it would be...”
Cassanya didn’t feel much better at this statement, but apparently couldn’t find an answer. Tallow could tell she was annoyed, but there really wasn’t anything more she could say. She didn’t know why the magefort had been abandoned, she didn’t know why there was a spell upon it, and, she privately admitted, she didn’t know how far that spell was likely to extend or what its limits were.
“We need a torch,” Cassanya said, looking ahead into a blackness so complete that Tallow doubted even feline sight could make any sense of the shadows.
“No, wait, I don’t want to risk a flame,” Tallow shook her head before the leonin could move. Now, where was that little... ah, left pocket, there it was. Holding her hand out, she moved into the doorway, she paused for a moment, recalling the spell before speaking several soft words. A flare of light, softening into a dim, pinkish glow.
“Never be without a good piece of rose quartz,” the apprentice smiled as Cassanya looked over her shoulder. She kept her body between the doorway and the light until the leonin had closed them in. “Goodness it’s cold,” she added, shivering, her breath fogging in front of her face, slowly rising pink steam.
Before them loomed a vast hallway, its floor of smooth, white marble, its ceiling and far end invisible in the minimal illumination of Tallow’s magic. As they moved forwards, the warm glow highlighted the dancing specks of dust kicked up by their passage.
On one side of the wide hallway, almost lost in the gloom, they could see doorways leading off into darkened rooms. On the other side, windows rose nearly the entire height of the wall, intricate patterns of stained glass that threw back the light in shimmering colours, but admitted none whatsoever.
“We are going to get the light back?” Cassanya asked, looking at the glittering dark glass.
“I think so,” Tallow said, eyeing the dark windowpane. It was eerie, knowing that there was at least some light outside, but that it wasn’t making it inside... “There’s obviously another guarding spell here, but it should become inactive when we leave.”
“I hope that’s the only spell on the place...” Cassanya said, her fingers brushing the window pane, tracing the icy cold metal edges of the pattern. A thin layer of frost scraped off on her fingertips, and Tallow pulled her cloak tighter about her.
They continued down the great hallway. To left and right, dark doorways lead to what seemed to be study chambers, containing chairs, desks, and even ink (frozen) and parchment so brittle that it cracked when touched, collapsing into dust against the table. It was obvious they weren’t going to find anything useful on this level.
Ahead of them, at the centre of the library, the hall met with three others, the whole building being laid out in a cross formation. Where the hallways crossed there stood a statue of the same white marble as the building itself, its feet planted firm upon a dais of obsidian. In one hand the statue held a book, the other rested upon the top of a stone tablet that reached to its waist.
Looking up at the statue, at the calm and composed face, Tallow felt somewhat humbled. How many of the ancient magi had studied here? Hundreds, at least, most likely thousands, and many of their names probably appeared in the historical texts at Sanctuary. And here was she, a mere apprentice, coming to trespass on their library now that they weren’t here. Overall, she decided, a small chill running down her spine, it was dangerously close to grave robbing.
“The knowledge of these halls is yours to learn,” she translated the words upon the tablet for Cassanya, seeking an end to her chain of thought. “With knowledge comes power. With power comes responsibility. Use our knowledge to fuel your power. Use our knowledge wisely.”
The leonin reached out a hand, her fingertips sliding across a thin, clear layer of ice that coated the statue’s stone robes.
“How come it’s so cold?”
“I really don’t know,” Tallow said, shaking her head.
“All right,” the tall leonin sighed. “Then where do we go from here?”
Instead of answering, the apprentice looked around, scrutinising their surroundings, the four dark hallways. Raising her eyebrows, she walked over to the wall, reaching out and rubbing vigorously at an engraved plaque, clearing away some of the accumulated dust and dirt. Yes, that had been preserved very nicely, she thought. How handy.
“East wing floors one to three, science and reference,” she read aloud. “West wing basic to intermediate incantations and charms. South wing advanced and senior level spells. North wing, spell component storage. Fourth floor, all wings restricted, do not enter without permission, penalties severe. That’s the one I imagine,” she finished, looking around.
“How severe?” Cassanya wondered aloud, her breath steaming in front of her, drifting lazily toward the cold ceiling.
“Well, if its anything like the library at Sanctuary, unauthorised access to restricted information could carry anything from a month of mucking out the stables, to imprisonment, to death,” Tallow informed her without any particular emphasis, turning towards what looked like the entrance to a stair well at the near end of the closet corridor.
“Death?” Apparently Cassanya was not to be soothed by the casual tone, and her eyebrows drew together.
“Unf,” walking straight into an immovably solid leonin arm, Tallow looked up, affronted and frowning. “These are not children’s entertainment spells we’re talking about, Cass. These aren’t pretty things designed to make people go ‘ooo, isn’t that good,’” she waved her hands for emphasis. “These are spells designed to do serious things – to heal deathly sickness, to raise buildings from bedrock, to turn a river to a new course, to control the rains... and sometimes to fight wars, and sometimes to hurt people. You know that the magi don’t take sides, and that we keep all the knowledge that comes to us, no matter what it pertains to, but the penalties are there to ensure that people don’t go looking for the knowledge in those books before they’re ready to know how to handle it. The punishment has to be severe when the knowledge is so dangerous.”
“And you’re still sure this is a good idea?” Cassanya narrowed her eyes as Tallow looked up at her unflinchingly.
“Yes,” Tallow insisted, sidestepping the leonin’s outstretched arm. She paused, looking over her shoulder at her taller friend. “I know it’s a risk, Cass,” she said more softly. “I really do, and I’m not getting stupid because I think there’s something exciting up there – I think there may be something vital up there. We don’t have any information about dragons at Sanctuary. Nothing. Every study of weakness, every method of combat, was, by agreement, destroyed after the end of the war – they didn’t want any chance that someone would think of starting it again. Nobody knows how to deal with them anymore. The people who studied here did, and some of them will have fought in that war. If they left any traces of how they did it, then there’s a lot of people need us to find them. I really need your help, Cass...” Holding out her hand, she gave a timid half smile.
Sighing, Cassanya nodded and took the proffered hand, giving Tallow’s fingers a supportive squeeze. “Great Persica, you’re cold!” she exclaimed, feeling her friend’s cool digits in her palm.
“Believe me I know,” Tallow nodded ruefully. “I don’t have a natural fur coat, remember?”
“Then you should have said. I have some gloves in my pack, wait a moment...” the leonin rummaged in her backpack for a few seconds.
Tallow couldn’t help laughing – the gloves were of course far too large, the wrist straps coming to about three inches up her forearms, and the ends of the fingers flopping around comically.
“Better than nothing,” Cassanya smiled, and the apprentice had to agree. “Tee?” she added as they started towards the staircase.
“Hmm?”
“Do try not to end up a smear on the wall because you tripped something while you were looking, hmm?”
Tallow nodded vigorously.
The fourth floor was, if anything, both darker and colder than the hallway below. The walls bore a sheen of frost, the ceiling glittering with hanging icicles. Nor, Tallow felt, was it entirely a physical cold. This chill went right through to the bone, seeming to emanate as much from inside her as it did from the air around. By the time the stairs lead out onto a small landing area she was shivering, and her toes were starting to lose feeling.
“Kinda wish I’d grown my hair longer,” she muttered, stamping her feet in an attempt to get her blood flowing. “Least it would have kept my neck warm.”
“You should,” Cassanya nodded as she looked around them. “It would suit you.”
A couple of marble benches flanked them, and underneath the window, what looked like the remains of a long dead potted plant. Looking out, Tallow realised that it looked out into the upper spaces of the great hallway. To the side, a great, arching doorway loomed over them, the ancient oak doors still solidly closed against intruders, a warning engraved onto each.
Pushing the doors open, Cassanya was immediately hit full in the face by a wave of heat and smoke.
The library was on fire. Floor to ceiling, flames roared up the sides of the shelves, the wood darkening and charring in the fierce heat. The painted roof blistered, scorched flakes dropping down onto the burning carpet, the whole room lit a bright, hellish red by the flames. Heat beat upon them as the sound of the flames roared in their ears.
“How…” Cassanya choked on the smoke, her eyes watering. “How can…?” she couldn’t continue, backing away from the fierce heat.
Tallow looked at the doorway in shock, then her expression set firm, brushing off Cassanya’s hand as the leonin tried to pull her back.
“You can’t…” she started, but the apprentice glared at her so determinedly that Cassanya fell back, shocked into silence.
Tucking the glowing quartz up her sleeve, she pulled off one glove, tossing it aside. Reaching into a pocket, withdrawing a small flask, pouring a little of the contents into the palm of her hand, she threw it through the door, shouting three words in a commanding tone.
The hot glow of the fire vanished, leaving them in darkness. The smoke, too, appeared to have dissipated.
“What happened?” Cassanya asked, somewhat confused to find herself mid-cough without any cause.
“Another guarding spell,” Tallow said, locating their light source again. “I should have checked for one – that would have been here as long as the library’s been standing. Sorry.” She leaned her gloved hand against the wall, panting a little, her breath forming drifting puffs of steam in front of her.
“No problem,” standing behind her friend, returning her discarded glove, Cassanya looked through the doorway as Tallow held the light up.
Dark, silent, and dusty. No fire, no smoke, no heat. Ahead of them, rows of dark shelves stretched off into the shadows.
“What now?” Cassanya asked quietly.
“I guess we search...” Tallow moved forwards into the darkness, her little light highlighting the shelves that rose high around her, casting shadows against the ceiling. It looked like the shelves ran all the way to the far end of the wing.
“Just how much restricted material did they have?” Cassanya asked, almost awed as they walked along between rows of books.
“You’d be surprised,” Tallow said darkly as they proceeded. “It’s not all bad though, some of it – most in fact – is just plain dangerous. Healing spells that involve the mage’s own life force, things like that. Get it wrong, and you’ll kill yourself as well as the person you’re trying to help.”
At the end of the row of shelves, they turned right, watching the letters engraved on the ends of the rows as they passed, looking for the right section. On their left, a black window looked out, apparently into nothing, but technically out over the canyon outside. It occurred to Tallow that they were probably above the main entrance way about now.
“Go back...”
Tallow shivered. “Quit it, Cass,” she said, glancing up at the leonin beside her. “It’s too dark for jokes.”
“Quit what?” Cassanya looked confused, and Tallow eyed her with suspicion, but let it pass.
“’D,’ here we go,” she said. “’Da’ through ‘De,’ no...” Next row of shelves. “’Do’ through ‘Dm,’ no...”
“There’s a word starting with ‘dm’?” Cassanya raised an eyebrow.
“Depends on the language – remember that some of these books come from all over the world. That looks interesting...”
“Do not touch it...”
“Why?” Tallow asked, hesitating, her hand outstretched.
“Why what?”
“Why shouldn’t I touch it?”
“I never said you shouldn’t,” Cassanya said, an expression of innocent confusion on her feline face.
Tallow glared at her and grabbed roughly hold of the red leather spine that she had been aiming for. As her fingers brushed it, there issued a sudden blast of intensely cold air from further along the row of shelves, chill enough to make her gasp and look up. The sight thus beheld instantly filled her stomach with ice water.
The figure was clad in black, tattered robes. The face was hidden in the shadows of its hood, and its breath came in wheezes that seemed to coincide with the waves of chilling air that came crawling down the aisle. It advanced upon Tallow, the darkness around it so intense that it seemed to push back the light.
One arm was raised, the hand reaching towards her. The hand! It was the hand of nothing living. The flesh appeared to have been burnt away, the fingers a mass of caked blood upon blackened bone.
“Get back!” Cassanya shouted, gripping Tallow by the back of her coat and pulling at her, but the apprentice remained completely immobile, frozen in place by the dread apparition.
“You have intruded without permission,” the words were hissed from the shadows of the black hood as waves of icy cold beat upon them. Cassanya’s mace was in her hand as Tallow’s light wavered, pushed back by the advancing darkness. What a fool, Tallow realised, to have brought such a feeble magic with her, how arrogant to assume it was sufficient.
“Run!” Cassanya hissed, her voice hoarse.
But they couldn’t run. The cold was so intense that it tore the strength from their limbs, fingers stiffening until they couldn’t grasp. The leonin’s weapon fell from her hand, landing on the frosty carpet with a soft thud. A moment later, Tallow’s quartz joined it, the light vanishing.
In the blackness that followed, the figure was even more terrible than in the light. Its outline was now lit by a pallid glow, the eyes inside the hood shining with cold, green flame.
“You must leave, or perish.” The fleshless hand pointed at them, outlined in a pale, green fire that tore the heat from the surrounding air.
“No,” Tallow groaned, feeling icy fear contract her heart. “No, we have to... have to get...” but she couldn’t even see the book anymore, it was too dark.
“You must not read that book,” the voice whispered, an icy caress as the eyes moved nearer. “The knowledge contained is too dangerous. One war was started by it, another cannot be allowed. You will not be warned to leave again.”
Tallow felt Cassanya tugging at her arm. They could run, the freezing grip of the air had loosened just enough to let her move. They could flee the library, back to the warmth and light outside... but then they still wouldn’t have the book, and many people might die.
“Another war...” Tallow’s teeth were chattering in the cold so that she had to force the words out. “Has already started,” she gasped. Those freezing, pallid eyes were directly before her now, illuminating her pale face, scrutinising her. She could feel Cassanya behind her, but the leonin no longer seemed able to move.
“Impossible...” The ethereal whisper brushed her skin with frost, the intensity of the cold so violent that she had to lean on the bookshelves for support else be driven to her knees.
“It has happened,” Tallow insisted, fighting near frozen lips. “The dragons... are back. We must have the knowledge to end the war... please... many people will be hurt...” She could feel the terrible cold trying to rob her of consciousness and fought it, trying to bring the words of a fire spell to mind, anything that would produce heat, but she couldn’t focus.
“Show me.” The chill eyes regarded her.
Trembling, shivering, Tallow struggled to regain her feet, dragging herself up on the bookshelf, feeling its icy surface freeze to her skin, tearing at her as she pulled away.
For a moment, those shining eyes peered deep into her own, their light shining on the apprentices white face, and then they surged forwards. For a moment, that death black figure stood, around her, inside her, the terrible chill of the grave surging along her bones, and then it stepped away, leaving Cassanya, to watch in horror as her friend’s body slumped to the floor.
Feral felt himself pushed back as Balthor and Blue both drew their weapons, the sciurel interposing himself between the half-race and the dozen black cloaked strangers emerging from the shadows. It was a brave gesture, Feral thought, and a kind one... but there were a lot of spears and swords surrounding them, and only one Blue.
“No, don’t kill them,” a voice drawled from behind the black ranks, it’s owner walking forwards into the light as a torch flared on either side of the semicircle. “Not yet, anyway,” the vulpani smiled unkindly as he strolled forwards, apparently at his ease. In one hand, he held a chain, the other end of which...
Feral’s eyes widened as the creature followed its master into the light. Not a dog, this time, it was far too large, even compared to the ones they had encountered. Nor was it malformed, it’s sleek, striped flanks smooth and muscular. It paced past the vulpani as he halted, growling as it moved forward to the limit of it’s chain, bright black eyes shining in the torchlight. Along its back, secured by leather straps, spiked iron plating gleamed dully.
“Tiger,” Blue whispered. “Heard of them, very dangerous.”
“Patience, Natalia, patience,” the vulpani said soothingly. “You may have them soon, but first I want to speak with them.”
“Oh shut up, Redclaw,” another voice sounded behind the vulpani. “Just get on with it, you’ve taken quite enough time over this already,” the leonin growled as she stepped into the light. Her red cloak fluttered in the icy breeze, a bloody backdrop to her night blue leather armour as green eyes flashed in the torchlight that glinted on the steel mace at her side.
Redclaw looked about to make an angry reply, but was cut short as the leonin spoke again. “Don’t I know you?” she said, staring hard at Feral, her eyebrows creasing into a frown as her gaze flickered across his face. “Yes, you were at that village, weren’t you?” she said softly.
Feral was standing perfectly still, the only sign of life the way the muscles at the sides of his jaw tightened.
“You’re looking well, I thought you were dead,” the leonin added conversationally, taking her mace in her hand.
Hatred beyond anything Feral had ever felt battered against the inside of his head, maddening, blinding anger. It was her, the woman responsible for everyone’s deaths, the one who had killed his mother, his sister, and he was going to make her pay for that right now! It wasn’t until Balthor’s hand on his collar jerked him back that Feral realised he was running at her.
“Katrina, you amaze me,” Redclaw drawled, watching as the lupari wrestled the half-race to a standstill. “Is there nobody in this world who doesn’t hate you?”
“Unfriendly little fellow, isn’t he?” Katrina looked at Balthor as Feral tried to fight his way free of the lupari’s restraint. He was going to kill her, he was! He gave a wordless shout of anger as he was lifted clean off his feet, fingers clawing the air.
Drawing back his bowstring, Blue aimed it at Katrina.
“Do it and die, tree rat,” she said, sounding slightly bored. “You won’t get out of here alive if you fire that arrow.”
The sciurel hesitated as Feral continued to fight with Balthor, blunt fingernails clawing the lupari’s forearms in a bid to escape his grip.
“Gods’ sakes, stop it, you’ll get yourself killed!” Balthor hissed urgently into his ear.
“You should listen to your dog,” Katrina suggested. “He’s smarter than he looks. Not that that would be difficult.”
“Are you going to explain what’s going on?” Redclaw looked at her, and the leonin shrugged.
“What’s to explain,” she shrugged carelessly. “I guess he’s still holding a grudge. He’s also, if I’m not mistaken, holding another fragment of the Dragon Staff,” she said, lifting her other hand. From it dangled a delicate silver chain, at the end of which a bright crystal sparkled in the flickering light. As she watched, it swung slightly back and forth, in a line with the struggling half-race.
Feral stopped motionless as these words hit home, clarity suddenly returning. These people wanted the Dragon Staff. The leonin, Katrina, had said ‘another,’ which meant she already had one. He had to take it off her. Above all else, he realised, he had to have that fragment, because if he didn’t, then she was going to take his, and all the things she had done before would happen again. He felt Balthor cautiously relax, setting him back on his feet.
“Better hand it over then, boy,” Redclaw addressed him.
“Sorry,” Feral informed him shortly. “Can’t. Not mine, you see, would be a lot of trouble if I lost it.”
The vulpani looked at him in complete wonderment for a moment, then shook his head and frowned. “I see you got your brains from your human parent,” he snorted. “Look around you,” he gestured at the circle of dark cloaked people. “Maybe you haven’t noticed that you are at a numerical disadvantage. Every one of these loyal brothers would gladly risk their lives to follow my orders. I assure you that you don’t want those orders to be to kill you, because I will ensure it hurts.”
“You’ll give that order no matter what I do,” Feral said calmly. It was too obvious, too clear to allow himself to be talked into cooperation.
Laughing, Katrina rested her elbow on Redclaw’s shoulder, and he ducked out from under her angrily. “The boy has your measure, Redclaw! Now listen,” she turned her attention back to Feral. “I honestly don’t care about you. I’ve no particular grudge against you, I don’t care what you’re doing here, I don’t care how you got that fragment, and I don’t care whether you leave here alive or dead. If you are nice to me, if you make things easy, I will let you walk away, because it saves me the effort of killing you. Do you understand?”
Feral felt Blue looking at him. He should take the leonin up on her offer, for his friends’ sakes, if not his own. There wasn’t an alternative. Resignedly, one hand tugged on the chain around his neck, drawing the pendant into view, the torchlight flowing like liquid fire around its edges and along the cracks in its shimmering surface.
“Don’t,” Blue whispered with a tiny shake of his head, his eyes never leaving the dark circle of ‘brothers’ around them.
Don’t? Feral thought. How could he not, when the alternative was that Blue, Balthor, and probably Tallow and Cassanya would all die if he didn’t? Even if he wouldn’t have done it for himself, despite that he would gladly risk his life to stop this leonin in her tracks, he had cooperate for those he cared about. He owed his friends too much to let them die here because of a fight that wasn’t theirs.
“Remember the mines,” the sciurel added in an undertone, and suddenly Feral understood. It seemed strange that he could have forgotten the sword at his side, but he simply wasn’t used to the idea that hiding from a fight wasn’t necessary. It just hadn’t occurred to him.
But now it did. How well could he fight with the sword? He had never really tested it, never learned its strengths or its weaknesses, never pushed its limits, and now he regretted that deeply. Was it enough to give them a chance? He should have asked Tallow to help him learn to use it while they had had the chance, she would probably have known, but instead he had spent a week sitting by the river, catching fish, and swapping stories with Blue, while the Shining Blade stood against the wall in his bedroom.
And what if he gave the fragment to Katrina? He would save himself, and his friends, for now at least, but... how many more people would die because he calmly turned it over to her in order to save his own skin? How many brothers would lose a sister, how many daughters would lose a father, how many mothers would lose a son?
“Good boy,” Katrina smiled as he held the pendant in his hand. “Now, throw it over, and you can all walk away. I will kill you, if you don’t,” she added as he hesitated.
“No,” Feral shook his head, returning her gaze as he tucked the pendant back into his shirt, a cool calm stealing over him. There was no choice about the matter at all. He knew what he had to do, and that knowledge meant he could approach it with a clear head. “No you won’t. You’re going to give me your fragment, and then you will walk away.”
A murmur of amusement and annoyance swept around the circle as it tightened about them, faces cast into shadow by black hoods, weapons glittering.
“You are actually crazy, aren’t you?” the leonin looked at him with an expression close to wonderment. “Would one of you gentlemen like to reconsider for him?” she looked from Balthor to Blue. To her astonishment (and annoyance), they shook their heads. “Idiots,” Katrina shook her head. “Lunatics. Fine, kill them,” she turned her back, apparently losing interest.
Obeying instantly, the black circle closed in, spears lowered. As the nearest brother drew within range, Feral put his hand on the hilt of his sword, sliding it smoothly from its sheath.
And in that instant he knew why it was called the Shining Blade.
The bright, blue glare of the blade overshadowed the torches to either side, casting shadows of those in the circle back against the trees behind them. The sword sang as it moved, a steady, pure note of defiance to beat back those before him as the light pushed back the darkness.
Intercepting the spear as it was thrust towards him, the blade bit deep into the wood, shattering the shaft and sending the metal head arching off to one side as splinters exploded outwards. But they were moving slowly – incredibly slowly, as if time had relaxed its grip. Above them, the steel head arched through the air as if moving through honey, apparently reluctant to come back down.
Feral watched the expression of surprise spread over his attacker’s face with remarkable sluggishness, whatever strange magic held his weapon seeming to have taken a hold of him too. Stepping aside, the half-race easily dodged the attack, swinging his foot into the man’s ankle as he ran past with all the speed of a limping seventy year old, sending him crashing forwards, the broken shaft of his weapon flying from his grasp as he thudded into the cold ground.
Time caught up.
“What the hell?” Katrina turned as her shadow blossomed out in front of her, the bright glare from behind lighting up the trees and shadowed buildings around. The circle had paused, hesitating just out of range as the half-race stood firmly in place, one of her men on the ground behind his feet. In his hand, a sword that seemed to be made of pure light, it’s blade lightning bright against the darkness around him.
Feral looked up as the circle backed off.
“Get back in there,” Katrina growled, roughly grabbing a hooded lutrani by the back of his neck and thrusting him forwards. “I said I wanted him dead, you cowards!”
Meeting his new attacker as quickly as he had the first, Feral caught the swing of the other’s sword with a counterstroke of his own, the Shining Blade singing in his grasp, changing to a high pitched resonance as it sent the other weapon spinning out of it’s owner’s hand. Ducking beneath the absurdly slow lutrani, who didn’t appear to have recognised the loss of his weapon yet, Feral slammed his left fist hard into the black uniform, a hand span above the belt buckle.
As the uniformed lutrani slumped into a winded heap, Feral discovered that Blue and Balthor had not been idle, engaging two of the brothers on their own so that one now had his foot pinned to the floor by an arrow, the other was face down in the freezing dirt, stirring feebly. The others didn’t seem to want to get any closer, circling the trio warily, remaining just out of reach.
That was when Redclaw released his hold on the tiger’s chain. In a moment, a growling, snarling projectile had launched itself at Feral, teeth bared. But it was still slow, he realised, that strange but increasingly familiar magic giving him precious time to analyse the feline’s movement, to see where it would land, and... With an almighty leap, he had somersaulted over the steel plating across the tiger’s back, the Shining Blade slotting neatly through the iron handle at the end of the chain around her neck, striking deep into the earth as he landed, anchoring it to the ground.
The roar was half choked as the tiger’s leap was interrupted by the collar, anchored by all the weight of the world and utterly unforgiving.
Of course, Feral discovered, this may not be such a good thing. Now that the feline had landed, shaking herself, trying to regain her bearings, he had a choice – remove the sword and free the tiger, or keep the cat pinned but fight without the Shining Blade.
Jerking the sword free from the grip of the icy ground, he turned just in time to deflect Reclaw’s spear with the flat of the blade, the vulpani clearly not pleased with the treatment of his pet, face twisted into a snarl.
“Nobody,” he growled. “Does that to Natalia!”
As the vulpani lowered his spear again, Feral could hear the scrape of claws as the tiger leapt again. Ducking forwards, he shoved the shaft of the spear upwards, feeling a sickening impact and crunch. The weight of the tiger’s lunge sent her and Redclaw over backwards, the feline impaled on the spear in a deadly pole vault, crashing down into the unforgiving ground as Katrina vacated the spot with immaculate timing.
It was hard to sort out the vulpani’s shriek of anger from the roar of the dying animal, and both were becoming lost in the confusion around them. Feral was breathing hard, the Shining Blade still glowing brightly, but feeling heavier. Only just in time, he parried Katrina’s mace, and as he did so caught a glimpse of something shining at her throat. As his cut sent her staggering to one side he grabbed for it. The fragment! He had it! But was he going to be able to keep it?
She wasn’t slow to recover, a dagger in her hand and turning quickly, starting back at him before the head of her mace had hit the ground.
Where had the magic gone that she wasn’t slowed down? What was wrong? Feral didn’t have time to find answers as she closed on him. It took the strength of both arms to hold back the fury of her strike, his sword cutting a groove into the blade of her dagger, and he felt his feet slide over the frozen ground, turning him just enough to open him up to her second attack. Red hot pain exploded across his forearm as the knife cut through his shirt, slicing a shallow cut into his skin. Then her knee was in his flank, lifting him off his feet and sending him crashing backwards, crunching onto the hard earth as she advanced on him.
“I should have made sure you were dead,” she spat, looming over him. Without even looking up, she thrust out her hand, grabbing Blue by the throat as he charged her, pivoting as she whirled him overhead to send him careening into several of her own men, sending them all down in a heap. “Pathetic,” she growled. “All of you. How dare you think you can fight me!”
Balthor was pinned under the weight of two of the brothers, who didn’t seem to know whether they should kill him outright or wait for confirmation.
It didn’t matter, Feral thought tiredly. Death was going to come to them all anyway, now. The Shining Blade, it seemed, had failed him. Or perhaps he had failed the sword, he couldn’t say for sure. But he had failed, and that was the important part.
As Katrina raised her dagger, preparing to thrust it down into him, a wordless shout rang out. She turned her head instinctively, almost dropping her dagger in shock.
Blackness.
Inky, utter darkness swept towards them, a black fog borne on an icy wind that sent cloaks flapping wildly, biting through clothing and fur.
Then it was upon them, and she couldn’t see her own hands, nor hear her own shout as the freezing cold darkness buffeted against her, driving her to her knees, sinking her into icy mud. The chill was so intense she couldn’t breathe, covering her mouth and nose with her arm, gritting her teeth, she shut eyes tight shut.
Silence.
Katrina opened her eyes. The blackness had lifted, though the persistent gloom of the magefort still remained. Around her, the lower brothers were picking themselves up, groaning and swearing.
The half-race! Where was he?
“No!” the leonin’s scream of anger caused heads to turn in his direction.
The half-race and his friends were gone, and so had Katrina’s fragment of the Dragon Staff.
