“And we’ll take the other half up the mountain with us, in case we need it,” Heron added. “Besides, you’re better off staying down here. Who knows what the Dhaxanians are up to? They could very well look at you and say ‘Oh, how sweet, you brought us dinner’.”
I stifled a chuckle and got off my horse.
“Our swamp witch magic resources should be used in moderation, and taking the horses up the mountain would deplete them sooner rather than later,” Patrik said, as he got off and moved half of the supplies into his and Scarlett’s backpack, while Dion and Alles held on to the rest.
We wrapped ourselves in furs, which we then tied around our waists for mobility, keeping the weapons within reach. We put the shields we’d gotten from the Imen camp on our backs and left our horses with Dion and Alles, who still weren’t happy with our decision.
“We could help you up there, you know,” Alles muttered, stroking his horse’s neck.
“We don’t yet know what’s up there,” I replied gently, then squeezed his shoulder in an attempt to reassure him that we weren’t dumping them behind. “We need someone to look after the horses down here. Besides, we’ll be back before you know it.”
Dion’s eyes grew wide, and he didn’t bother to hide his concern. “What if you don’t?”
Heron, Scarlett, Patrik, and I looked at each other for a brief moment, before I shifted my focus back to Dion and Alles. “If we’re not back in two days, you head back to the Adlets,” I said, then gave him one of the three flares. Scarlett had kept one, handing the other two over to Heron and me, in case we split up for whatever reason. “Only use this if you have to. Otherwise, go back to Ragnar Peak, and meet the rest of our team there. Finding the swamp witch is the most important thing on our to-do list right now, so don’t waste time coming right back for us.”
“Either way, that’s your worst-case scenario,” Heron replied. “Which won’t happen, anyway, because we’re trained professionals. We’ve got tricks up our sleeves, two badass vampires, a Druid, a pit wolf, and, well, me.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle at that last one. “Way to blow your own horn there, Dorchadas.”
“I thought it was what you liked most about me.” Heron smirked, and I bit my lower lip in order to stop myself from laughing.
“Point is, Dion, Alles, stay here,” I said to the young Imen. “Take care of our horses for us, and be ready to shoot out of here as fast as you can, if needed. Like I said, we don’t know what’s up there, Dhaxanians or worse.”
The Imen nodded and pulled the horses away to a small cluster of trees, just fifty feet away. “We’ll be here,” Dion said, pointing at the natural refuge.
I used the last of the furs to cover Hundurr’s back. He was huge, but there was enough material to keep his spine and shoulders warm. Patrik handed me his reserve of leather strings—I used them to tie the fur around Hundurr’s body, making sure he stayed snug for the journey ahead. He eventually stopped shaking, unable to take his weary red eyes off me. I stroked his neck and smiled.
“We’ll be fine, Hundurr,” I said gently. “Just watch our backs. Hopefully, the Dhaxanians won’t be too hard to find.”
We left Dion, Alles, and the horses behind and trekked up the mountain, following one of the smoother western ridges. The higher the altitude, the lower the temperatures dropped. We toughed it out, moving as fast as we could against the growing, biting winds.
Hundurr was more resilient than I’d given him credit for, but even he was starting to slow down, about halfway through. I briefly checked the others, and noticed that Patrik was starting to fall behind, too, and Heron was always a couple of steps behind me.
We stopped on one of the forest plateaus for a few minutes, during which time Patrik dropped to his knee and tried to dig a small hole in the frosted ground. Hundurr noticed his efforts and decided to help, clawing away at the hard dirt until the hole was deep enough for Patrik to fill with twigs and a handful of herbs and minerals from his supplies.
“What’s that?” I asked, raising my voice as the wind howled around us.
“A little bit of magic to keep us going,” Patrik replied, and muttered a Druid spell under his breath, then lit the bundle up and motioned for us to gather around the small fire. To my surprise, it burned bright and blue, despite the strong gusts of icy winds. “Warm yourselves up. It’ll raise our body temperatures and keep them high for longer. It should be enough to get us to the top.”
He was right. As soon as I put my hands above the flames, warmth poured through me, lighting my senses on fire, too. It was as if my focus had been amped up a few times over. “Oh, wow,” I gasped. “Anyone else feeling this?”
“Lord, who needs coffee when you’ve got Druid fire, right?” Scarlett grinned, relishing the new sensations as she, too, warmed up by the fire.
Patrik smiled, then nodded at the citadel on top of the mountain. It was easier to spot now, with tall, white marble columns that seemed to go on forever, and sharp corners on the somewhat battered walls. “It looks like it’s been up there a long time,” he said. “But I don’t see the lights anymore.”
“Maybe they were just reflections on some patch of snow or ice, or something,” Heron suggested.
“Either way, it’s huge,” I muttered.
Hundurr quietly made his way closer to the fire, too, warming his face. He seemed to enjoy it the most, and his eyes closed momentarily, before he snapped back to reality and looked up, sniffing the cold air. It was well below zero at this altitude. The ground was covered in snow, the layer thicker toward the edges of the plateau.
“Is that normal?” I asked, pointing at the thin crust of ice covering the pine trees. It hugged the trunks with beautiful, crystallized patterns, like nothing I’d ever seen before.
“It’s frost, I guess,” Patrik replied, squinting at the trees. He then got up and walked over to the nearest one, running his fingers over the frozen bark. “I’ve never seen ice formations such as this.”
“It could mean that we’re getting close,” I suggested. “The Dhaxanians do like to freeze stuff, don’t they?”
“With a single touch, too,” Heron replied, then carefully looked around, his gaze settling on Hundurr, who was growing a little restless. “He doesn’t look too happy.”
“I think he smells something. Or someone,” Scarlett said. “Hundurr, would you like to lead the way and track whatever scent you caught?”
The pit wolf didn’t wait to be asked twice. He shot back up onto the ridge, just as another wave of heavy snowfall came down, with clusters of flakes almost as big as our fists. “Try to keep up,” Scarlett gasped as she followed him.
One by one, we made our way farther up the mountain, covering another mile through the rising snow. The freezing winds continued to push back. We had our masks, hoods, and goggles on, just to protect our faces from the blizzard, while the sky darkened above us.
The citadel we’d seen was just a few yards away, at the very top of the mountain. I’d lost track of time during our climb, but we must’ve spent at least four to five hours just working our way up to the top plateau alone.
“Finally,” Scarlett breathed, as we all made it to the city. It had been carved directly into the white marble core of the mountain peak, with narrow stairs and tall, slender columns. It reminded me of ancient Greek temples, given its rather simple architecture, but I was willing to bet it was incredibly spacious inside.
“Okay, everybody stay close,” Patrik said, then motioned for Hundurr to come. “That means you too, big boy.”
The pit wolf huffed, then trotted back to Scarlett’s side as we walked into the ginormous cave posing as a city on top of a frozen mountain. Add this to the stories you’ll tell your kids later.
About five minutes in, as I looked at the walls and tall ceiling that domed above us, I realized something. This wasn’t white marble. Sure, there was some at the very core of the entire structure, but this was all ice, thick layers enveloping every pillar a
nd every sheet of stone around us. “Guys, this is an ice palace,” I murmured, my breath steaming before me.
It wasn’t dark, either, but I couldn’t identify the light sources. A cool, bluish sheen reflected off every icy surface, mingled with the pure white of the marble underlayers. The deeper we went into the city, the more beautiful it became—the walls and columns were adorned with swirling ice sculptures, while a frosted pattern developed on the floor. There was a thin layer of snow powder on top, enough to stop our feet from slipping at every second step forward.
Despite the magnitude of this construction, however, there was no sign of life.
I couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. “What if it’s abandoned?” I asked, my voice low as I looked around. “What if no one’s been here in eons?”
“Or maybe they’re just shy,” Heron replied, the corner of his mouth twitching as he looked around. Hundurr seemed restless, huffing and whimpering as he sniffed the frozen floor.
Farther ahead, the hallway opened into what looked like a massive throne room. It was shaped like a dome, with ice columns linking the ceiling to the ground—with at least a hundred feet between them. “This is huge,” I breathed, looking up.
There were rectangular holes carved into the walls all around us, displayed on even rows, one above the other, all the way up to the ceiling frame beneath the dome. There still wasn’t a clear source of light in sight, and yet the hall was well-lit in a white hue.
The throne itself had been carved from a giant block of ice. The level of detail was simply astonishing, consisting mostly of snowflake patterns repeated in elegant rows along the sides. It, too, was covered in powdery snow, like dust that had settled with the passage of time. And nothing but silence.
“It stands to reason that none of this would melt,” Scarlett said, taking a couple of steps toward the throne. “I mean, there’s a perpetual winter going on here.”
“Hundurr doesn’t seem to think it’s abandoned,” Patrik replied, nodding at the pit wolf. Hundurr started growling, his gaze darting around, most likely seeing something we couldn’t just yet. My muscles jerked, and my senses flared. I scanned the entire hall from top to bottom—still, no sign of movement. Not even a passing shadow.
“Where are they?” I muttered, frowning, as Heron moved closer to my side. He, too, was on edge. Something didn’t feel right. So I decided to do the natural thing. I shouted. “We come in peace!”
Silence, as Patrik, Scarlett, and Heron gawked at me, their eyes nearly popping out of their orbits. I replied with a shrug. “Worth a shot,” I added, slowly.
Hundurr’s warning growl was briefly followed by the whistle of something shooting through the air. I saw the source—a sharp arrow, flying right toward us from the right side. I pulled Heron back on pure instinct. The arrow missed him by a few inches and got lodged into the ice floor. That thing was fast enough to break through several inches of ice, easily.
My blood froze as I heard that whizzing sound again—but this time more than once.
“Stay close!” Patrik barked, then quickly muttered a spell and put his hands out. Bright blue pulses shot out from his palms, forming a protective bubble around us. It shimmered blue, but it was transparent enough for us to see the rain of arrows coming at us.
Thousands of them, shot at once from the rectangular holes carved into the dome-shaped throne room, flew in fast. None could penetrate the shield, though, and they all fell onto the frozen floor.
“I guess it’s not abandoned after all,” I gasped, as another wave of arrows came in.
The swarm of steel-tipped projectiles rained down on us, but Patrik held his own. “I drew energy from the ice around us,” he grunted, holding his glowing hands up to sustain the shield against the second wave. “Otherwise we would’ve been riddled with holes by now.”
I couldn’t see anyone, but someone was clearly shooting those arrows at us. And judging by the number of them coming in, there weren’t just a handful of hostiles surrounding us.
“I know it’s redundant to say this now, but I think Hundurr smelled something, for sure,” Heron replied sarcastically.
“Good boy,” Patrik said, gritting his teeth, “but I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. I feel each arrow hitting the shield like a punch in the gut.”
A third round of arrows came in, and I could see the beads of sweat forming on Patrik’s forehead as he struggled to keep the protective bubble up. A couple of arrows made it through, but we managed to dodge them, while the others joined the rest on the floor.
We were in trouble.
Avril
Whether they’d come out of hiding because they’d seen us come in, or because I’d called out to them, I wasn’t sure. But I sure as hell wasn’t ready to die on top of a frozen mountain in the middle of freaking nowhere.
These were definitely Dhaxanians—no one else could’ve pulled this kind of weather, or frozen architecture. No one thrived in these conditions like the Dhaxanians. Patrik held his own for a total of five arrow waves before his bubble started to crack, and he dropped to one knee, drained by the effort.
I had no choice but to try to initiate a dialogue, despite the incoming sixth wave of steel-tipped arrows. I raised my hands beneath the shimmering blue bubble and dodged several arrows that had made it through, in the process. “We come in peace! We mean you no harm! We just want to talk!”
“Pretty sure they heard you the first time,” Heron replied bluntly. “Not sure they care.”
“Any other ideas?” I shot back, both eyebrows raised.
“Shields up and we make a run for it,” he offered.
I looked around, and only saw two possible ways out—one back into the freezing blizzard, and one seemingly leading east, and deeper into the mountain. We pulled our shields onto our arms and drew our swords, ready to make a run either way.
“What’ll it be? Back out or through there?” I nodded at the eastward doorway.
Patrik and Scarlett looked at both options, while Hundurr sneered at our unseen enemies, who were most likely loading up a seventh round of arrows on their bows. Patrik’s protective bubble wasn’t going to survive another wave, for sure.
“The sensible thing would be to get the hell out of here as fast as we can,” Scarlett muttered.
“But we need to talk to the Dhaxanians,” I replied.
“It doesn’t look like they’re interested in a chat right now,” Scarlett groaned, shaking her head with dismay.
“Okay, let’s go outside, then, and try another approach. Like, now.” Heron tried to mediate the conversation, and steer it toward some kind of action before the next wave of arrows came down.
“You’re not going anywhere.” A low, yet delicate voice emerged from the icy dome.
We stilled and looked around once more. A figure emerged from the eastern doorway. Just then, Patrik’s protective bubble popped, and my heart sank. Oh, crap.
“Hold fire,” the creature said, raising one long, slender arm as he advanced through the throne room.
The closer he got, the better I could see him. Based on Vesta’s description, we were looking at our first Dhaxanian. He was tall and wiry, clad in layers of bluish silk. His hair was long and white, flowing down his back like a snowfall, and his eyes were big and icy blue. His pointy ears and delicate features were further softened by his pale skin and almost airy walk. If he was any indication of what the Dhaxanians looked like, overall, I had to admit—this was, by far, one of the most beautiful species I’d ever come across.
He looked ethereal, his skin carrying a pearly shimmer, accentuated by the plethora of diamonds and silver used to weave the elegant crown on his head, and his decorative chest piece.
“You look like you’re in charge here,” Heron muttered, keeping his sword out and ready to strike, if needed.
The Dhaxanian nearly hovered over the ice, measuring each of us from head to toe, his blue eyes twinkling with chilling curiosity—the kind a scientist m
ight wear when he discovers a new species to dissect, not the kind a kid has when he’s given a new toy. My blood was already crystallized, my spine tingling from the thought of how many arrows they probably still had and were most likely pointing at us.
“Whatever gave me away?” the Dhaxanian replied with a smirk.
Oh, boy, icy all the way, then.
“Can you please stop shooting arrows at us?” I asked, unable to control my frustration. “We just want to talk.”
The Dhaxanian’s gaze found mine, and, for no apparent reason, my heart skipped a beat. He seemed to be well aware of the impact that he could have on people, and wasn’t shy about using it, either. Heron noticed, too, and moved a few inches closer to my side—whether to protect me or to assert himself as my mate in front of the Dhaxanian, I wasn’t too sure at this point.
“By all means. I’m listening,” the Dhaxanian said, his hands resting behind his back.
He was tall and slender, but there was this certain noblesse about him, a masculine grace I’d only seen portrayed in ancient Greek sculptures before. And the self-confidence he exuded further lowered my temperature, mainly because it made me all the more aware of how screwed we were if we didn’t take this conversation into friendlier territory.
I started with the introductions, because I was dying to know his name. “I’m Avril Novak. And these are my colleagues, Heron Dorchadas, Scarlett Novak, and Patrik Raymer. We belong to GASP, a now-intergalactic organization dedicated to promoting objectives of peace and balance throughout the supernatural world. We’re not from Neraka.”
He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t take his eyes off me either. Hundurr kept growling, until Scarlett sheathed her sword and patted his back in an attempt to calm him down and avoid a tragedy—whether it would be a tragedy for the Dhaxanians or for us was something I didn’t want to find out.
“Go on,” the Dhaxanian replied.
“Well, we’ve introduced ourselves. Who are you?” I asked.
“Oh, we’re doing the whole I-am-you-are thing.” The Dhaxanian chuckled. “I am the ruler of this icy kingdom, Avril Novak of GASP. I am Nevis, son of Bairn, and prince of the Dhaxanians. Satisfied?”