Her aunts raised their voices in protest.
The throb in Karigan’s head intensified so much her vision rippled. “No. I won’t have it. You intrude on me, on my life, without warning, and then start looking through my things? I would not do it to you, but you can’t seem to show me the same respect. It never seems to matter what I’ve done here in the king’s service. You just keep treating me like a child.” She had never raised her voice to them like this before, and they stared at her in shock.
“Kari,” Aunt Stace began.
“No! I don’t want to hear it. I didn’t invite you here. I just want to be left alone.” She sagged against one of the stone pillars that supported the ceiling in her room, her headache now full blown. Between the pain and the venting of her anger, she thought she might throw up.
Aunt Stace opened her mouth again as if to speak, but Karigan’s father placed his hand on his sister’s arm. “She’s right. We are remiss. We have presumed much.”
Aunt Tory sniffled and dabbed at her eyes. Aunt Gretta looked like she was about to cry. Aunt Brini was so upset she rose and brushed past Karigan on her way out the door, sobbing.
Karigan was exhausted, her fury only partially spent, but now she was also engulfed by guilt. She hadn’t wanted to make them cry. Her aunts and father were there because they loved her and needed to see her after she had seemingly come back from the dead.
Beyond the pain in her head and the emotion that suffused her chamber, she sensed a building pressure in the air. Her father was saying something, but it felt as if the very walls were crushing her. Her vision swam and she thought she might pass out, but a shriek from somewhere outside her room brought her back to herself.
What in five hells? Was it her imagination, or had the temperature cooled considerably?
“Karigan!” Daro Cooper appeared at her door, her face pale. “Something—something strange is going on!”
She could tell just by the tone of Daro’s voice it had to be bad.
“Grab your sword,” Daro said, and disappeared from the doorway.
She didn’t have a sword. She had yet to replace the saber she’d lost in Blackveil, but she did have her bonewood staff. She bounded across her room to where it leaned against the wall next to her bed. The black lacquered fighting staff felt natural and good in her hands. Touching it seemed to knock her headache down a notch.
“You will close the door behind me,” Karigan instructed her father and aunts, “and lock it. Do not let anyone in till I return.”
“Brini,” Aunt Stace said.
“I’ll find her.” Karigan was astonished to see her breath fog the air as she spoke. “And stoke up the fire, try to keep warm.” A tingle on the back of her neck told her the rapidly cooling temperature was not natural, that magic was at play. As she passed through the door, she turned once more and looked in. “Remember, lock the door!” Not, she reflected, that a locked door would necessarily be a defense against a magical attack, or any other.
She sprinted around the corner into the main Rider corridor, and was faced with a rush of frigid wind and a scene of which she could not quite make sense. A rime of frost coated the walls. Her fellow Riders spilled out of their rooms to hack and slash at what appeared to be . . . small whirlwinds? They were about as tall as her knees.
Another shriek caught her attention—Aunt Brini! She dashed down the corridor. Daro and Brandall shielded Aunt Brini from the whirlwinds, Daro stabbing into one, which burst in a poof of crystalline fragments, revealing its inner skeleton, child-sized with translucent bones of ice that were vaguely human in shape, but disturbingly other. It clenched an icicle dagger ready to puncture Daro’s foot. Her sword swept down and cleaved through the creature’s skull. Ice splintered and cracked, and scattered across the floor.
“Kari!” Aunt Brini cried.
“Stay back,” Karigan said, joining Daro and Brandall to shield her.
More whirlwinds filled the space left by the one they’d destroyed, and the Riders faced them, their weapons glinting in the lamplight. Karigan swung her staff and smashed a creature against the wall.
“Well done!” Brandall shouted.
Karigan grinned mirthlessly and crushed another beneath the metal handle of her staff. It took at least two good whacks to stop one. When the cloak of swirling ice fragments fell away, the creatures always held a dagger ready to stab at the first opportunity.
“What are these things?”
“No idea,” Daro replied, her gaze never leaving the creatures.
Down the corridor, other Riders put their special abilities to use: Ylaine lifted the creatures with her mind and smashed them into the wall. Carson had a new shielding talent to prevent himself from being stabbed, and young Gil summoned a wind in an attempt to push them back.
“Kari!” Aunt Brini cried in warning.
She pivoted just in time to smash a creature that had approached on her blind side. She was showered with ice as she destroyed it.
“Is it my imagination, or are they getting bigger?” Brandall asked between gritted teeth.
He was right. The whirlwinds were growing taller. They had started out knee-high, but now they were about hip-high.
“And faster!” Daro said before slicing through ice bones.
Karigan closed her mind to her aunt’s half-hysterical sobbing behind her, and focused on what she needed to do. Fortunately, she’d been working with Arms Master Drent since her return and her condition was good, allowing her to keep up with the onslaught of growing, faster whirlwinds.
Daro cried out beside her, an icicle dagger jammed into her thigh. The jaw of the creature opened revealing jagged sharp teeth and clamped on Daro’s leg. Her cries of pain mingled with Aunt Brini’s screams. Karigan hammered the ice skull with her staff, and shards of it flew in all directions. Brandall turned to catch Daro, but she did not fall. Her bleeding wounds crystallized, turned to ice that spread rapidly, freezing her wounded leg, then creeping upward to her hip.
“Daro!” Brandall cried, but he, like Karigan, had to fend off attackers lest they, too, get stabbed and bitten.
“So cold,” Daro moaned. Though she struggled, the ice continued to creep up her torso, and her movements became slow, labored. She could not move her lower body at all.
Karigan watched helplessly and in horror, not knowing how to help Daro as she stopped moving altogether, her hair frosted over, her face frozen in an expression of pain. Her cries turned to silence, and her sword slipped from her stiff hand. The ice continued to thicken over her in layers. Karigan slammed away another creature, her attention and Brandall’s divided between their attackers and Daro, but there was little they could do for her. The ice had turned her into a frozen statue.
Fire flared down the corridor. Balls of it flew through the air—Mara! The din of battle died as she progressed toward them. Flame grew from her hand, the one with the missing fingers, and she molded it into roiling balls and splashed them into the creatures. Bones of ice melted into slushy puddles.
Brandall smashed the last of the whirlwinds, and the corridor was filled with the panting of tired Green Riders. Mara made her way to them, her face wet with sweat, her eyes feverish.
“Thank the gods,” Karigan said. She turned to put her arm around her aunt’s trembling shoulders to comfort her.
“They are everywhere throughout the castle,” Mara said.
“What about Daro?” Brandall asked, reaching to touch the hand of their friend.
“Don’t,” Mara said. “If you accidently push her over, she will shatter on the floor.”
They all took a step away from Daro.
“But, is she still alive?” Karigan asked.
“I don’t know.”
A moment of horrified silence passed among them.
“Couldn’t you just thaw her with your ability?” Brandall asked Mara.
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“I don’t dare risk it. I don’t know the nature of this magic, and I could too easily burn her.”
“The king . . .” Karigan began.
“Yes,” Mara replied, “we need to reach the king. We need to organize, sweep the castle, and wipe these things out. If it is possible.”
“If?” Brandall asked.
“They are magical and anything is possible.” Mara called to the other exhausted Riders to join them. “We need to regroup.”
As Mara assembled the Riders, Karigan rushed her shocked aunt back to her chamber, making sure there were no other creatures along the way. She pounded on the door. “It’s me! Me and Aunt Brini!”
Her father flung the door open, and Karigan thrust her aunt inside and into the arms of her anxious sisters.
“Karigan,” he asked, “what is happening?”
“No time,” she said. “I’ve got to go. Aunt Brini will tell you.”
“I am coming with you.”
“No! You need to look after my aunts. Here!” She thrust her staff into his hands. “Use this if you need to. Don’t let anything in!”
“Anything?”
She slammed the door shut in reply and ran to rejoin Mara and the others, who were making plans near the grotesque ice statue that was Daro Cooper. Karigan found Daro’s sword and hefted it in her hand. It was lighter than what she had become accustomed to, but it would serve.
“I’ll take good care of it,” she promised Daro. “I’ll bring it back to you.”
As she moved in to hear Mara’s instructions, she realized her headache had almost entirely dissipated. It seemed it took battle to balance her frame of mind.
There were a good thirty-five Riders present who had not been turned to ice. Who knew where the rest were and what they faced? Was the city also under siege, or just the castle? Regardless, their first duty was to the king and queen. Mara chose not to split them up, for their strength was in numbers, small as theirs were compared to that of the ice creatures.
“I saw the king and queen in the queen’s sitting room not long ago,” Karigan said, though she could not say for certain how much time had elapsed since then.
“Right,” Mara said. “We’ll head to the royal apartments. I’ll take point.”
“But—” Karigan protested.
Mara turned, her palm up and flame dancing on it. “Can you really argue with this, Sir Karigan?”
She was right, of course. Her ability was ideal, the best for destroying any of the creatures that got in their way, but Karigan was more concerned about what the constant use of the fire bringing would do to Mara. She did not dare speak of it, however, in front of the mostly young, untried Riders, their faces already full of fear.
“Torches,” Karigan said instead. “So we can all have fire.”
“Excellent idea.” Mara ordered the Riders to grab any torches they could find in the corridor. The castle was largely lit by whale oil lamps and candles, but many of the old torches remained unused in their sconces.
While the Riders were busy, Karigan took the chance to grab Mara’s arm. The heat of her radiated through her sleeve. “Don’t you dare overdo it with your ability.”
“I won’t, thanks to your suggestion.” Mara indicated the others collecting torches. A few trailed cobwebs. “And thank you for not mentioning it in front of the others.” She paused, then added, “Do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Keep an eye on the newest ones for me. Be the sweep.” Karigan was about to argue, but Mara forestalled her. “It’s an order, Rider. Plus, you said anything.” She grinned, but it was without humor. “And don’t think I am doing you any favors. Sweep will be as dangerous as point, and I need someone there who is experienced and capable.”
Karigan nodded, but with misgiving, thinking she should be up front with Mara breaking through the attackers. The Riders found about a dozen torches that were still usable. Mara touched one and flame sprang to life, and was passed from torch to torch. Karigan did not take one, ensuring that the inexperienced Riders got them first. It would be their best defense.
Mara formed them into a wedge, and Karigan took her place at the rear. When this was over, there would be jokes. She hoped there would be, anyway.
HOT COALS AND A CHANDELIER
The Riders clattered through the corridor, destroying whirlwind creatures as they went, careful not to knock over their friends who had been turned to ice. When they reached the main castle hall, they halted in shock. People frozen in their tracks stood throughout, some trapped in time as they wielded weapons at unseen foes. Women lifted skirts, caught as they fled, their faces contorted in fear and pain. The floor, the walls, even the empty suits of armor that stood at attention along the walls, were frosted over and sparkled in the light. Flame gave life to shadows. It was silent.
“Remember,” Mara said, even her quiet voice carrying, “try not to knock anyone over.”
They trotted through the main hall, carefully weaving among courtiers, soldiers, and servants who’d been turned into statues of ice. Karigan recognized several though she tried not to look too closely. A few had already toppled and shattered across the floor, and she swallowed hard. She adjusted her grip on the hilt of her sword, her fingers stiff with the cold, and maintained her position as rear guard.
As for the king and queen, she told herself over and over that they would be stoutly protected by Weapons and the regular castle guard. They had a much better chance of remaining safe than these other folk. The king, a trained swordmaster, was very capable of defending himself and Estora, as well. These thoughts, however, failed to reassure her very much.
The sound of Rider boots echoed in the strangely quiet hall as they continued on. Movement down a side corridor caught Karigan’s eye. She slowed at the odd sight of flame jabbing out of a wall at a whirlwind creature. Someone was clearly in distress. Her desire to reach the royal apartments, her desperate need to see her king safe, battled with her wish to help someone who had no Weapons, no guards, to protect him or her.
“Brandall,” she called, “I’m going to check something out, and will catch up as soon as I can. You take sweep.”
He nodded, and she darted down the side corridor. As she approached, she realized the flame was not coming out of the wall but from a large hearth in a seating alcove. Someone was attempting to fend off a creature with a bundle of burning kindling.
The whirlwind was considerably larger than the ones she had already fought. It was almost as tall as she, and as she neared it, she was whipped by wind that grabbed her breath. The whirlwind spewed needles of ice, and she raised her arm to protect her face. She thought maybe this side trip had not been such a good idea, after all, but a glance into the hearth revealed the ash girl who took care of the Rider wing. She must have been on her rounds when the magical attack struck. Her buckets of ash were strewn across the floor, and the fire in the hearth threatened to ignite her skirt, but it was helping to hold the whirlwind creature at bay. She looked frightened to bits as she thrust the burning kindling at it, but determined, as well.
The king would have Weapons, Karigan tried to remind herself. This girl had no one. No one, but her.
The whirlwind appeared to take notice of her, and she lunged. Alas, this one was not as easy to dispatch. It skated around her in erratic patterns, and the ice needles and wind made it difficult to see. She shielded her face with her hand—she did not want to lose her one good eye. The more the creature spun, the more ice that layered the floor and walls.
I have fought on ice before came the unbidden memory, but she hadn’t the time to consider its source as she slipped and tried to maintain her footing with the whirlwind bearing down on her.
She hacked into it. The swirling funnel was wide enough now that she buried the sword up to the guard, and ice particles shredded her knuckles. The blade struck the creature’s
skeleton, but it did not shatter like the smaller ones.
She withdrew the sword and hacked again with nearly the same result, but as she backed away, her feet slipped out from beneath her. One moment she was standing, and the next she was flat on her back. The creature roared toward her. She tried to rise to her feet, but could gain no traction. In a moment, it would have her. Would the frozen survive, or were they already dead?
The ash girl sprang into action and threw a shovelful of hot coals at the creature. It skittered aside, but as the coals hit the icy floor, steam rose and caused the creature to pause long enough for Karigan to climb to her feet. The coals melted through the ice layered on the floor and smoldered on the carpet beneath.
Karigan slid around the creature and stabbed into it. The hilt of her sword was slick with her own blood. Was it only wishful thinking, or was the whirl of ice thinning? Might it finally be weakening?
She thrust once more, and the wind, with all its spinning ice particles, dropped, unveiling the creature within. It clacked its jaw of jagged teeth at her. It carried no icicle dagger, but an ice sword, and when she crossed blades with it, its sword rang as though made of steel.
As the creature had been fast in its whirlwind form, so it was also fast with its sword work, and she had to use all the advanced moves Arms Master Drent had taught her. She slid and scrambled to keep up. As she tried to drive past its guard, it suddenly lurched and hopped, looking down at its boney feet, which were melting on the burning carpet. It roared like a windstorm, and then toppled over.
She hacked at its spine. When it still clacked its jaw at her, she stomped on the skull repeatedly until it cracked and shattered. She stood for a time, panting hard.
“Sir Karigan?” came a little voice.
She had almost forgotten the ash girl, who was just now stepping tentatively away from the hearth. “Anna, isn’t it?”
The girl looked astonished Karigan knew her name. “I—I have an extra handkerchief.” She held the white cloth out like a flag of surrender. When Karigan just stared stupidly at it, she said, “For your hand.”