Chapter Twenty Two: The Battle of Arendelle (Part 4)
WISTY
I half expected troops to assault me as I threaded my way through the roads, since I was known as the scary, infamous witch to King Hans, but everybody was too occupied fighting to pay me any mind. That much I was relieved of, because after witnessing what might very well be my friend's demise, things just could not get any worse.
Or could it?
"Ross!" I called, stifling a sob, wishing he'd hear me over the hubbub of the battle. "Ross!"
Where is he?
I was completely foreign to this village. For all I knew he could be anywhere. Magic could help me track down his location, but I was consumed by fretfulness and distress and was in no condition to summon or work it. At least searching lessened those emotions.
"ROSS!"
I was bawling at the top of my lungs, but the incessant clangour of battle drowned out my cries. An explosion of energy missed me by inches. I shoved an adult wizard aside, bumped into Beric, squeezed past the backs of two soldiers, and swerved around Gretchen when she suddenly reeled backwards and got in my way. I tripped over a set of intertwining tree branches that magically sprung and arced from a spot near my feet, then hastily jumped up and continued running.
Stumbling into a random, broad street, I halted, scanning everywhere. My eyes travelled over a severely injured teenage boy slumped on the ground beside a line of houses and moved on. Wait a minute. Isn't he familiar? I did a double take. I instantly recognized him. It was Ross Lilienfield. In a state of acute pain. He was on all fours, dragging himself toward somewhere, grimacing with every movement. He crawled into an alley and disappeared.
"Ross!" I wheezed.
I weaved my way through the combatants into the alley. Ross had crawled halfway in. I saw his strength desert him. He gave up the effort of crawling, lay prostrate, and simply rested there. I went over to crouch beside him.
The Champion's morning star had wrecked him pretty good. There was a large cluster of deep dark red perforations on his back, oozing blood. His spine had fractured. I had a sudden urge to throw up. The sight was gruesome.
I rasped, "Please don't be dead."
"Wisty!"
I was startled by the voice. I glanced over my shoulder. It was Kristoff. Behind him were Gerda and Emmet. I had taken off without sparing them a thought and totally forgot I had other companions. My mind had only been on Ross.
Kristoff's gaze settled on my friend. "Ross. Is he OK?" He, Emmet, and Gerda jogged toward us.
Ross was too heavily armoured for me to check his pulse. A soldier's corpse was sprawled near the far end of the narrow passage with an arrow in his chest and a dagger in his eye. Ew. Gross. I retrieved the dagger with a jerk, wiped the gore on his cape in disgust, and hurried back to my companions. Ross's nose was covered by the nasal guard of his helmet. Removing the helm, I held the flat of the blade in front of his nostrils. We waited anxiously.
"Condensation," I reported when light vapour became visible on the blade. "He's breathing."
I did not have high hopes about what I was going to try next as I was perfectly aware I sucked at it, but my hands hovered over the nasty injuries on Ross's back anyway. Since I was the only one present with powers, I had no choice but to give this a shot.
Inhaling a deep breath to sooth and calm myself, I gathered whatever little healing energy I possessed.
The M refused to come. I could sense it did not wish to be summoned or wanted to answer my call. All my witchy mojo was gone. I knew I wasn't made for this. I could turn Byron Swain into a talking weasel by snapping my fingers, and change him back by merely clapping my hands. I could generate electrical force using my mind, levitate objects, and ignite my entire being in flames. But curing was the one thing I could not do. It was as if I was jiggling my healing energy awake from a long and restful sleep, but no matter how vigorously I shook, it wouldn't stir.
Don't despair, I told myself. Despairing in a battle was contagious and could dampen not just your will and spirit but your army's too. I will not let my companions see me throw in the sponge. They're counting on me.
I shut my eyes tight and concentrated harder, obstinately pulling my M to the surface and forcing it to cure. Healing energy leaked—albeit extremely reluctantly—from every pore in my body. I was draining the life of every single one of my living cells and tissues. Concave circles of white light issued from my palms, but it flickered, luminous one second and pale in the next, very unstable.
Heck, the effort of keeping my hands aglow was so intense and overwhelming I was feeling faint. This was beyond what my body capacity could contain or what my mind could endure. Hold on hold on HOLD ON! I was so exhausted, so spent, so…
The lights flickered a few times and then vanished. I leaned on my arm to prevent myself from falling back in fatigue.
The nasty perforations on Ross's back were still there. There was no change in my friend's condition.
Emmet demanded in frustration, "What are you doing? Keep at it!"
"I…I can't," I said softly. Dizziness, I am begging you, please go away! I hadn't realized I was panting from the earlier exertion. I swallowed hard. "My—my healing magic is nowhere as adept as Whit's."
"Is he going to die?" Kristoff asked.
"NO!" Emmet banged his fist on his knee, causing Gerda to jump. "No! Ross is not dying! I won't have that! We've already lost Sasha. Wisty, you have to save him!"
I rubbed my brows and forehead to clear some of the weariness. Emmet sounded like he was shouting from underwater. Or maybe I was the one underwater. Either way, his voice was no longer fully penetrating my ears.
"Wisty!" Rough, impatient, urgent hands on my arms rocked me back and forth.
"OK, OK!" I scooted away from Emmet in case he decided to do something violent. He was on the brink of losing it. "Magic multiplies in power and becomes stronger when you channel it through others, which means," I explained, "I'm going to need your help. We will restore Ross together. Everyone grasp hands." I offered my left hand to Emmet, who accepted it after some hesitation. Beside him Gerda took Emmet's other hand and Kristoff gripped Gerda's free hand. Then I linked the fingers of my right hand to Ross's. Recalling one of the most effective healing poems I memorized, I recited:
"Mother Earth, alleviate the pain.
Restore strength. Let consciousness regain."
"Repeat after me," I ordered the others.
"Mother Earth, alleviate the pain. Restore strength. Let consciousness regain." We chanted the spell over and over, each time with more fervour and ardour than the last, and I felt a steady stream of supernatural energy flowing out of my veins into Ross. We watched in a mixture of awe and amazement as the broken pieces of Ross's spine reconnected and the skin on his back sealed the gory punctures left in the morning star's wake. Apart from the bloodstains on his silver leather breastplate, chainmail, and shirt beneath, there wasn't a sign of any damage done to him. It was as if he had never been welted on the back by the Champion's weapon.
Emmet's face lit up. "We did it."
Utilizing my powers did not wear me out this time. I leaned in and whispered gently, "Ross?" No response. I gave his shoulders a shake, trying to rouse him. "Ross!" His eyes remained shut. He was dead to the world.
A husky, guttural, and victorious howl that sounded an awful lot like the Champion rang through the village, and I involuntarily trembled.
"Why isn't he waking up?" I asked Emmet, puzzled.
"A welt on the back like that has to have done a number on him. He's still recovering. It might take a while," Kristoff surmised. He kept glimpsing anxiously over his shoulder, distracted, as if he was afraid someone would storm into the alley at any moment.
From somewhere in the distance I heard a guffaw that belonged impeccably to Hans.
Gerda postulated, "Hans and that cold-blooded brute are back."
"We must return to battle," Kristoff urged.
"We can't leave him here!" I protested. "What if he's spotted by one of Hans's soldiers?"
"They won't bother with him," Kristoff responded, not hiding the impatience in his tone. "They'll think he's dead."
"If we just wait a few minutes for him to come to—" I began.
"Who knows how long that will be? There's no time," Gerda chimed in. "You can tend to your friend later, but right now we gotta go."
Kristoff tossed away his pickaxe and bent down in exchange for Ross's magnificent great axe, turning its handle in his hand to examine the weight of it. "I'm borrowing this. I'm sure Ross wouldn't mind." He slung his new weapon over his shoulder and addressed me and Emmet, "You guys coming or not?"
Emmet and I nodded. Emmet choked back a sob and stared at Ross. "I remember you and Sasha used to record mixes together in your basement when you were kids. When he was gone, you've been doing it with me ever since, and gosh, how fun that was! The recorded music you played on the radio and at clubs and parties was outstanding." He heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry about Sasha. It's not fair he died."
I stepped in. "You were brave to combat the Champion, Ross Lilienfield. Braver than you think you are. Hang in there, DJ man." Emmet wept and laughed at once. "We will come back for you."
I took one last look at Ross and then the four of us exited the narrow alley and hit the road.
A reindeer appeared out of nowhere and bumped into Kristoff, knocking him on his butt. "Sven!" Kristoff exclaimed. "Good to see you!" He ruffled the golden-brown fur of his mane and patted him a few times above the muzzle, and Sven snorted and huffed to show his appreciation.
Joseph, the dark-skinned boy who blew up Hans's ballista into splinters, noticed the reindeer as well. He nodded at Sven and asked Kristoff, "Reindeer's here to join the fight, I see?"
Kristoff pushed himself up from the ground and jabbed a finger at Sven. "All right, Sven, you're here to be my partner in combat. Drop the amiableness and don the ferocious mask."
The pet reindeer instantly obeyed. Joseph materialized a suit of impressive silver metallic armour for Sven with magic, transforming him into an animal warrior.
"Thanks, wizard," Kristoff said. He turned back to Sven. "We'll show 'em no mercy, Sven, got it?" The reindeer told him 'I understood' in his own language. "Superb."
Kristoff hopped onto Sven's back, twirled Ross's great axe in a threatening manner, and off they went, Sven's hooves thudding the stone. Gerda, Emmet and I ran after them, killing whoever got in our way. Sven ploughed into a soldier with no remorse. Kristoff hacked at the chest of another, then sliced clean the head of a third bloke with his new weapon. Sensing a change in air current from behind, Sven drove his rump into the soldier sneaking up on him. The moment he lost his balance, Sam, one of the archers up on the roof of a house, shot him with an arrow. Kristoff drove his axe into the spine of a man and cut at the hip of the next troop he passed. They were merely wounded, but a nearby adult magician quickly finished them off.
One guy attacked Sven's stomach with his sword, but the reindeer cantered by so fast the edge of the blade only grazed the plates of his armour. Sven gave an aggressive huff, whirled around, and galloped headlong at the soldier, who backed hurriedly into the wall of a house. The soldier swung his weapon frantically, desperately trying to ward off the charging reindeer. With a thundering impact, Sven rammed his antlers into him. The man's chest crumpled under the immense pressure and he was killed instantly. Within seconds, Kristoff and Sven had veered down an adjoining road and were out of my sight.
"Where is the king and his sidekick?" Gerda asked as we winded our way through street after street of combatants.
I replied uncertainly, "Where Anna is, presumably?"
"And where did we last see Anna?" Gerda said.
"I don't know. I can bring up a mental visualization of Anna and teleport us straight to her." It was common for witches and wizards to teleport one person at a time, but Whit and I were skilled enough to teleport multiple people in one go. I extended a hand to each of my companions, who both grasped on firmly.
"Hold tight."
The scenery shifted to a different street, one that I recognized. The fighting here was more intense. This was where Hans and his tall buddy last vanished in a spinning blur. I searched for Anna, but there were too many people around for me to find her. Instead, I located the king and his Champion battling a group of adult magicians in the middle of the road.
The demons were back.
Hans summoned a million sharp needles out of the air which surrounded a fifty-year-old man, who cried out in surprise. He flicked his hand casually, and all at once the needles punctured the adult. The millions of tiny holes in his body dribbled blood and stained the silver leather of his armour. The man died where he stood, almost every patch of his skin pierced. The king's sidekick swung the club of his mace and bashed the brains of two more people. Then he immobilized half a dozen adults with his supernatural ability, revolved his morning star, and smashed their torsos to bits.
Hans spun to intercept the sword of a female adult in her forties. Their blades crossed with a metallic clang. With a prolonged scraping sound, he disengaged and summoned those razor-edged needles again, but before they could make contact with the woman, I stopped them mid-air with my telekinetic power. Hans's gaze flickered to my direction and he took on an expression of surprise and hatred as he detected my presence. He pushed back on me with his mind, forcing the needles to edge closer to the woman. Gosh, his mental power was strong. I hit him again with my mojo. I would not allow those needles to touch her. Slowly, I turned the M up a notch. It required a ton of effort, with Hans straining to hold me back and everything, but I managed to accomplish it and the needles sped away from the woman like rockets and dispersed, penetrating the king's own men instead.
I expected my powers to debilitate as a result, but they didn't. Terrific. I could keep going!
Emmet and Gerda moved in to assault Hans. The flash of sword blades and the heavy thump of a war hammer assured me that they could hold their own. I turned my attention to the sidekick in the nick of time to see him immobilize Amber and four City adults with his supernatural ability. Pale light blue mist shone around the immobile magicians. With pure evil glee the Champion lifted his morning star, ready to bash the victims to death in a single strike.
Not gonna happen, dude.
I slashed my arm through the air, sending an arc of brilliant red energy towards the Champion's mace. The chain of the weapon shattered. The heavy spiked head spun out of control and cannoned into an unlucky soldier.
Amber performed an anti-immobilization spell and freed herself. She did the same to the other four adults. They inclined their heads at me in thanks before quickly rejoining the fray.
The Champion gaped at what was left of his morning star in his hand as though he couldn't believe what he'd just witnessed. The weapon was nothing more than a club.
"Bitch of a witch!" he roared, casting the club aside and leering at me homicidally.
"Oops." I sounded casual and nonchalant, but deep down I was frightened.
Fuming, the Champion pulled out a pair of gleaming, jet black dual blades. My earlier triumph deflated like a balloon. Just when I thought I had stripped the thug of all his weapons, he flashed out more.
It was hard to keep track of what came next, because one second the brute was standing still and the next he was an inky, rushing blur. I watched, horrified, as the Champion raged through the length and width of the entire street with superhuman speed, twirling his dual blades and leaping from magician to magician, ripping through their armour like it was paper. In what seemed like an instant, his tall, dark shape zoomed towards me. I instantaneously 'bounced' onto a roof, heart thudding wildly. His black figure blasted through the spot I was occupying seconds ago. Phew! If it hadn't been for my quick reaction time I would've been sliced and diced to pieces.
As I managed to recover enough to look around, I realized the true extent of the carnage the Champion had committed. The majority of the City wizards and witches in the street had been slaughtered during his rampage. I pressed a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. The sight of their corpses was too ugly and brutal for me to even glimpse. They were the worst nightmares come true. Decapitated bodies. Torn open torsos. Red stains blossoming over thoracic cavities. Severed limbs. Missing ears. Slit throats… What kind of outrageous, savage bestiality was this?
Among the dead lay teenagers Jeff and Amber, two witches I've come to know fairly well and grow close to. These were good people, my friends… Was that Emmet and Gerda I saw lying over there? No. I must be dreaming. Emmet and Gerda could not be dead. They could not be! I leaned forward and squinted, praying for it to be a hallucination, a trick of the eye, but there they were, in plain view, as motionless as rocks.
Now was so not a good time to weep.
Hans peered down at Gerda and Emmet by his feet. "Nice job, Champion," he congratulated without glancing at him. "Thanks for killing these wretches for me."
His sidekick sheathed the pair of short swords into the scabbards he wore on his back and wiped his hands back and forth in an attained manner. "Massacre round one," he growled in that guttural voice of his. "Let's head to another street for round two."
"Three," the king corrected. "You carried out the first round of slaughter in the courtyard, remember?"
The courtyard? But Pearce and his army of a thousand were there! God knew how many of them the brute had eradicated.
Hans and the Champion exchanged a nefarious grin. They bounded away and disappeared somewhere between the houses. The few City magicians who were still standing resumed their duel with their foes, while soldiers who didn't have anybody left to target scattered and trotted to different streets.
I slid down the russet concrete roof tiles, landed on the road, and ran to my two companions. "Emmet!" I shouted. "Gerda!"
"Don't fret. They're alright," a girl reassured.
It was Anna, sitting with her back against the bricks of a settlement right below a smashed windowpane. "Just playing dead."
Emmet raised his head and peeked around the area. "Are they gone?" he asked me.
I nodded. He nudged Gerda and they both got up.
"I'm going after them," I affirmed.
"At least have the decency to heal my shin and take me with you." Anna sounded grouchy and despondent. Her drooping eyelids indicated just how weary she was. "I'm on your side, you know," she reminded.
I knelt down beside her and my friends crouched as well. I couldn't detect any serious injury to her left shin, therefore I wrapped my hands around her silver greave and gave it a press with my thumbs. Anna shrieked and twitched her leg in agony. I hadn't even pressed that hard. Underneath the armour, her shin was mushy and pulpy and there was no hardness to it at all. "Whoa," I said, recoiling and grimacing, "I think your tibia is completely shattered."
"Thanks for telling me, Wisty. You just made my day." Anna's voice may be frail, but I could tell from her tone she was attempting to snap at me. She leaned her head against the bricks. The way she closed her eyes implied that she had chosen to surrender and was on the verge of giving up.
Gerda rested a hand on her shoulder and said gently, "Anna, we need you to stay still." She grasped Emmet's hand.
Emmet laced his fingers with mine and ordered, "Do it."
My hand hovered over Anna's left shin. I tuned out the noises of effort coming from duels nearby and willed my mind to concentrate. Familiar concave circles of white light radiated from my palm, and with the joint strength of me and my companions this time, they did not fail.
Anna peered at me with eyes half open as my supernatural energy coursed into her fragmented tibia. She asked, "Do you know how it feels like when Hans attacks your head with his powers?" I decided I wasn't going to answer, so I kept quiet. She continued, "It's as though someone's stabbing your brain with a scorching poker. Or burying a hundred daggers in it and then twisting them altogether nonstop. Or filling it with white-hot embers. You can scarcely fathom the situation without experiencing it. Just bring up the worst torment you've endured in the past and then imagine it being increased tenfold. Yes, Wisty, it's that painful. Pain beyond the highest degree and most excruciating pain."
I maintained the luminous light for a full minute before letting it fade away. I swallowed hard. "Thanks for sharing with me, Anna. You just made my day," I told her. "How's the bone?"
Anna tested her left shin by rubbing it. She carefully stood up and hopped on the spot with that leg. "Mended," she replied, retrieving the pair of short swords that rested by her side, sounding more bubbly than before.
That was the princess I knew.
Anna went to a well to wash away the dried flakes of blood that caked her cheeks, upper lip, and the area below her ears—a result of the mental torture Hans had inflicted. Then the four of us pelted after our enemies' trail.
No combat took place in the neighbouring street and all that was there were silver and inky corpses. The Champion had already assailed the area. Onto the next street. Nope, it had been dealt with as well and the king's comrades had already vacated it.
It was on the third street that we caught up with the Champion. His stunningly rapid form zigzagged, circled, and crisscrossed as he tore through the road, destroying witches and wizards by slicing that pair of wicked dual blades incredibly quickly to the point that they were a blur. Meanwhile, Hans was holding up an uncanny amulet. It was the size of a tennis ball, and it was extracting yellow-green smoke from the chests of fifteen City archers on rooftops. Without warning, Hans clenched his fist around the crystalline object. The victims clawed insanely at their chests, the effort causing their faces to turn red and purple. Was Hans crushing their hearts? Altogether, like marionettes with their strings cut loose, the archers collapsed. They rolled off the roofs of a dozen settlements and thudded on the stony ground. Hans gradually let go of the gemstone's shattered remains and the tiny pieces fell like sand in an hourglass.
The heinousness of the scene left me staggered. When the king spotted me and my friends he produced an identical amulet. I realized it was a peridot gemstone.
I comprehended what he was going to do.
"Run!" I bellowed at the top of my lungs. But it was a split second too late. Hans was already murmuring a spell.
Anna, Gerda, Emmet and I flung out our arms against our will. We curved back our spines in a 'C.' Our eyes automatically became round and widened. Our mouths were forced into an 'O,' as though stretched in a yawn. Yellow-green smoke emanated from our chests into the peridot. The king wrapped his fingers around the amulet and, relishing in our utter helplessness, squeezed with superhuman strength. An unseen force seized my heart, causing it to pump harder, to thump faster. I felt the pounding of its beats in my ears. The pressure was unbearable. I couldn't even cry out due to the constriction in my chest.
The urge to stop Hans was strong, but I dared not make a move lest he hardened his grip. If he carried on squashing the amulet my vital organ was going to burst. I would die and the same fate would await my friends.
From behind the king, I heard the clumping of hooves. An animal plowed into him, slamming him face-first to the ground. Sven and Kristoff, coming to our rescue! Hans dropped his precious gemstone. It rolled away from him. I instantly felt the pressure release my heart. My nemesis reached for the peridot but Emmet beat him to it. He pummeled the lethal object with his war hammer—clonk, clonk, clonk!—until it was pulverized.
The king got back to his feet, more infuriated than I had ever seen him.
"Don't give him time to conjure another amulet! Keep him busy!" Emmet hollered to Gerda. They launched themselves at Hans.
The unbelievably speedy blur of the Champion zoomed dangerously close to Anna and I instinctively snapped my fingers. It was as though I had hit a pause button—his black form became stationary. I gasped at what I had just done. I did not expect that to happen.
The thug easily reversed my magic and unfroze himself. Anna unsheathed the dual blades she used to fight Hans earlier from their scabbards strapped to her back, and the Champion brandished his. Now they were equal in weaponry. They leered at each other, never once breaking eye contact. They lunged forward simultaneously. The clashes and clangs of metal on metal were resonant in my ears. The brute slashed his blades horizontally in a wide arc, aiming for Anna's neck, only to miss as she ducked. Anna went for a cut at his thighs, but her adversary easily brushed her blade away. The Champion's left sword collided with Anna's right one, and then vice versa, over and over again in a series of rapid strikes.
A formidable soldier came at me, wielding a long, glowing red whip. He lashed at my head, feet, then my head and feet again, and I leaped and dived to avoid him, retreating a few feet back each time. His attacks came so fast I had no time to nock an arrow. With that whip of his he could only attack from a distance, therefore I went for a new tactic by eliminating that distance between us. Levitating two feet off the ground, I glided toward him. When he was within arm's reach I ignited my being in boiling flames. However, instead of hearing the soldier screech and recoil from the heat, I felt myself engulfed by a huge tide of wetness.
Water.
Forcing me back, pouring into my nostrils, knocking me off balance, quenching my fire. I sputtered and coughed the water from my mouth and blew it from my nose. I rose sopping wet.
Without giving me a moment of respite, the soldier lashed at my mid-section. His lucent red scourge coiled around my torso, so tightly I could barely breathe. He sharply tugged at the whip, and I was thrown into the air. I flew over him and smashed the stone on the opposite side. The pain that washed over me was shocking and blinding. But I wasn't done for. Still bound to the whip, the soldier dragged me toward him with a jerk and I halted before his feet, completely at his mercy.
Suddenly he wailed.
Something or someone had walloped him from behind. He wailed again as Kristoff used his great axe to hack violently at his upper back. He flopped down on top of my stomach, dead. Revolted, I wriggled myself free and unwrapped the whip curling around my torso.
Kristoff rode his reindeer and battled the foes on its back, wielding Ross's axe so skillfully like he was born for it. One warrior threw a spear at him, but Kristoff sensed it coming and dodged it. Sven charged at the guy, rose on his hind legs, and struck him hard with his front hooves. When he fell, the reindeer trampled him where he lay. One soldier was creeping up on Kristoff stealthily, intending for a swift backstab with his blade. I notched an arrow, ignited its glittering broadhead in purple flame, and fired it at point-blank range. In seconds the soldier was nothing, wiped out entirely from existence by the magical fire, leaving no trace.
Hans obstructed a blow from Emmet's war hammer with his shield. He welted him on the temple. The impact sent Emmet tumbling. Gerda jabbed her weapon at Hans's flank, but he knocked her sword downwards so its tip touched the ground. She pulled back her sword with a scraping noise and disengaged. A flicker of fierce determination danced in her eyes. She delivered a succession of blows at Hans, and although he defended and deflected every one of them, it was Gerda who was advancing and Hans who was retreating. When the king realized this, he stopped Gerda's blow mid-strike and their blades crisscrossed in front of them. But Gerda could not compare with the king's physical strength. Hans leaned forward and pushed his sword against his opponent's, driving Gerda back. Before she could recover from her stagger, he created swirling magenta mist using magic and directed it at her.
Gerda blinked and went stiff. Her eyes crossed as though in a stupor.
Then she exploded in a mixture of blood, guts, and viscera.
Blown to smithereens.
My arrow was poised mid-strike, the bowstring stretched taut. My jaw dropped. Of all the deaths I had witnessed since the commence of battle, this had to be the most atrocious one. I may not have known the woman for long, but she remained nothing but loyal to Elsa and Anna and had shown nothing but kindness towards me. And now she was gone.
Gerda. Servant to the royal family of Arendelle. Gone.
A blaze of raw sienna colored light careened my way and stirred me back to my senses. I leaped for safety at the same time as I shot my arrow. Of course the soldier wasn't hurt—I didn't even aim properly. He lifted his arm to fire again, but Kristoff brought his axe downwards and severed that arm. The twin girls perched on opposite rooftops, Bridget and Brooke, released their bowstrings, and their arrows pierced the soldier at the same time, ending him for good.
Emmet, having just watched his partner in combat die, let out a barbaric howl. He stomped towards the king and swung his hammer at him repeatedly in a frenzied rage. Hans brought up his shield to protect his chest, thighs, upper arm, head; then, fed up with defending, he directed a narrow beam of lilac energy at the handle of the war hammer, slicing it in two.
Emmet was now weaponless.
The king sheathed his sword. He held up his right hand as though for inspection. His fingers elongated, transformed to a metallic turquoise color, and became as hard as steel. They were claws. Longer and sharper than a lion's. The corners of Hans's mouth twisted into a sadistic grin. Hans whisked in front of Emmet in the blink of an eye and sliced his claws across his torso. Emmet didn't even have time to raise his shield in protection—he uttered a blood-curdling squeal. In the moment before he lurched and fell, I glimpsed deep, red claw marks and lacerations on his body. Blood started gushing out from the nasty wounds. Emmet was hemorrhaging. No way was he going to survive if someone didn't tend to him soon.
Ting, ting, ting, ting! The Champion slashed at Anna, his left blade cutting at her thigh and his right blade at her flank. Anna warded off the blow to her flank first and then stopped the one to her thigh. She cut diagonally upwards, aiming for her adversary's ear, but the thug leaned sideways and dodged it. Anna did not relent. She lashed at the dude's chest. He halted the blow. The Champion conducted a series of different spins with his short swords and Anna had to adjust her strikes to defend herself. But she never missed a beat. The Champion's blade swept at her neck, but she avoided it by tilting her head back. He swept at her ankles. She leaped. Anna grunted and launched a counterattack with both of her blades, but her adversary raised his blades to block her. Their swords intersected in an X, one in front of their sternums and the other before their legs. Then they both disengaged.
They exchanged more blows before the two pairs of blades crisscrossed again, high above their heads this time. Anna drove her sabaton into the Champion's stomach, causing him to yelp and double over. She quickly delivered an upper cut. He managed to deflect it, but he had not totally recovered yet. Anna swung diagonally. The edge of her blade grazed the Champion's cheek, the same cheek my arrow had made contact earlier, and the red mark I had previously created on his skin widened and bled.
But that was nothing. The Champion paid no mind to the wound. He lunged at Anna, the blades in his hand spinning. He launched three downward cuts. Anna dodged the first two and fended off the third. Twirling his blade, the Champion stepped forward to jab. Anna leaped out of range. The brute closed the gap between them. He performed a figure eight across his body, and Anna cleverly parried the swings. She intercepted the next slice he directed at her too. But his other arm was free. The Champion swept at her left ankle, creating a long, red gash. Anna yowled painfully but quickly gritted her teeth to stop it. Her adversary, seeing the pain was distracting her, made another figure eight across his body. Anna evaded the first diagonal slice, but was too slow for the second one. His metal blade hit her square on the collarbone. The force of the attack sent her reeling. The Champion conjured an elaborate spear with magic and thrust it into the area just above her already injured collarbone. Anna made no attempt to suppress her yowl this time. She writhed on the ground and, after realizing it only deteriorated the pain, clutched the shaft and pulled.
The Champion sneered disparagingly, "Don't waste your time hauling it. The spear is not going to budge. It's enchanted so that it remains where it belongs: buried in your flesh!"
"Why…couldn't…you…have just…finished me?" Anna asked between gasps of pain.
The Champion stared her down with no contrition. "Because I relish in your suffering and I want to make it last."
Anna warned, "You are making a big mistake."
"Am I?" roared the tall thug. "I don't see you getting up, coming after me!"
Anna pulled at the shaft harder, but it was futile. She lay back down, squeezed her eyes shut, and sniffled in anguish and despair.
"She may not be able to fight you…but I will."
The Champion turned around to find himself face to face with Beric. The seventeen-year-old teenager with an affinity for air magic.
The Champion sized him up, then jibed, "Then we both know the remainder of your life won't last long."
"Try me."
Beric sucked in a deep breath of air and then blew it out. A gale travelled from his open mouth towards the burly thug, blowing him down the adjoining street. Beric sprinted after him. I followed. We emerged into the village square. I had never set foot here before. The square was connected to the bridge leading you to the castle. The fighting here was heavy.
As soon as Beric located the inky figure of his adversary, he blew out a gale again, and the Champion flew backwards and collided against the house situated in the middle of the square. Beric generated a shimmering transparent bubble around the Champion's head and used magic to deprive the air inside it of oxygen. I watched the Champion's chest rise and fall, rise and fall. It wasn't long before he started to inhale deeper, his breathing becoming faster. Color rose on his face as he desperately tried, and failed, to get oxygen into his lungs. He poked the bubble with a finger, then yelped in pain and quickly withdrew it. The Champion pressed his hands to either side of the sphere encasing his head. It tingled with white electrical sparks…and disappeared.
The tall thug fought to catch his breath. He magically bombed the ground beneath Beric's feet. Dirt, loose soil, and blocks of stone flew in all directions, creating a hole where the boy was standing.
But Beric wasn't standing there anymore. He had tossed himself back a couple of feet with wind, unharmed.
The Champion turned on his superhuman speed and streaked towards him in a shadowy blur. Beric anticipated this and summoned a gust of wind. The wind blustered the Champion off course, ramming him against a house ringing the square. He quickly recovered and streaked towards Beric once more. A couple of magicians tried to delay him but he easily cut them down. Archers shot arrows at him from rooftops. They ricocheted off the surface of his armor. The Champion's dark shape became distinct again when he got near enough to Beric. His twin swords lashed at his lower legs. Beric swept himself up in a tornado and his foe missed. The wind from the tornado battered at the tall brute, drawing him back, making it hard for him to approach Beric, who floated in the center of the mass of spiraling wind. Beric waved his arms ostentatiously. A gigantic cluster of gyrating gray wind answered his call. Moving his arms in a skillful manner, he guided it so it surrounded the Champion. Two dual blades which undoubtedly belonged to him hurtled from the cluster, spinning, and I heard a livid roar as the brute lost his weapons. Then, with a loud swishing sound, Beric propelled the swirling ball of black and gray skyward. It flew just above the roof of the construction in the middle of the square. The Champion made a grab for the spire and clung on to it for dear life as his body swayed in the wind like a flag attached to a pole.
I glimpsed a mane of auburn hair right behind Beric. Hans! When did he follow us here?
Beric was still trying to get his wind to detach the Champion from his tight grip on the spire, completely unaware that a foe had sneaked up on him.
"Beric, look out!" I screeched.
Beric wheeled around as Hans's shield welted him in the face. He lurched sideways but kept his footing. Hans swung downwards. Beric turned and raised his own weapon just in time before Hans's sword struck his shoulder blade. The king directed a set of well-measured blows at him and Beric parried them all. Hans continued striking without giving him a chance to counterattack, pushing Beric to playing defensive. I realized Hans's motive: he was keeping him occupied in order to distract him, to shift his focus away from the Champion so that he could—
I turned back to the roof of the construction. The huge cluster of gyrating wind had died down. The king's sidekick was no longer clinging to the spire. He was balanced on the roof with both hands extended. Extended towards Beric.
Thick, black murk, reminiscent to the kind I'd seen Titus conjure, began to unfurl from the Champion's open palms, curling around his fingers. It wafted outwards in Beric's direction, fast.
But Beric was engaged in a duel with Hans.
I fetched an arrow over my shoulder, nocked it, and pointed it at Hans. I didn't aim at a specific place, I just released.
Hans must've seen something flying at him out of the corner of his eye, because he lifted his shield before his face in defense. My arrow struck its wooden surface. Frustration ate at me. How was it that the speed of my arrows never beat Hans's reaction time?
My attempt at breaking up their duel was useless. The tendrils of inky mist the Champion generated had already reached Beric. Premonition settled in my gut like a heavy weight. The murk swept over him and engulfed him totally.
I looked on with dread. What's happening to him? What's happening to him? What's happening to him?
Gradually, the murk began to clear. What was revealed behind it was no longer Beric. It was not even a person.
It was a skeleton.
I squealed like it was my last day on this planet. Perhaps it was. It might as well be. I didn't know how much more of this heinousness I could undertake. The murk had fried—or vaporized, whatever term you called it—Beric into a skeleton.
The framework of bones standing upright before me lost its structure and collapsed in a heap. The Champion somersaulted off the roof and landed heavily on his feet. The force of his landing made the ground beneath me quake.
Kristoff and Sven had trotted into the village square. They, too, had seen Beric's appalling demise.
"Enough is enough!" Kristoff bellowed at the Champion from Sven's back. "I've had it of your wickedness! No more lives of magicians will be lost to you today!"
The warrior scoffed, "And how, mountain man, do you plan on annihilating me?"
Kristoff put two fingers in the corners of his mouth and whistled.
Hundreds of big, round rocks rolled into the village square and assembled behind him and the reindeer. All at once they transformed into trolls. On the front lines stood Grand Pabbie, Gothi, Brock, Pebble, Rockwell, Bulda, and Cliff. Grand Pabbie had agreed on the Black Mountains that he would fight for Elsa, and now they came at Kristoff's summon, true to their word. All trolls had large noses, black eyes, and stony skin. They wore a moss cloak decorated with colored crystals.
The Champion surveyed the trolls' physical appearances. Then he guffawed throatily and maniacally. The king was also sneering.
Kristoff was unaffected by their reactions. "ROCK TROLLS!" he commanded, and they all stood up straighter. "AMALGAMATE!"
The response was instantaneous. The trolls gathered in a clump and mounted one another in the shape of a human being. As they clustered, their stony flesh began to fuse. I saw the beginnings of legs develop. Legs as wide as two tree trunks. After that came the hip, broad torso, shoulders, thick arms, neck, and at last, the head. In less than a minute, the rock trolls had merged together to form a hulking stone behemoth that shook the earth with its every step. According to my estimate, it was about sixty feet tall. I stared into its luminous teal colored eyes narrowed into slits, empty and scary but at the same time magnetic, so I was unable to look away.
The rock trolls had united into a humongous rock golem.
Back in the valley they had seemed so amiable, gentle and, in a sort of way, cute. I had never known they were capable of this kind of ability. The golem emitted a rumbling, deafening roar, and the air itself trembled.
Kristoff's next command was as I had predicted.
"Kill," he said.
For the first time, the Champion looked afraid. The looming monster, who towered over the entire village, stalked towards him. The brute began to flee, fear palpable in his eyes. He didn't have the chance to get far before the monster wrapped a gigantic fist around his body. The stark disparity in size between them was almost laughable—the king's Champion, once tall and mighty, was now tiny.
The rock golem lifted him to eye level and gazed at him detestably. It seized him by the left arm and wrenched it free from its socket. The Champion's scream turned my blood to ice water and sent daggers down my spine. It was so bedeviling, I might as well be tortured in his place. The stone monster flung the loose arm into the surrounding sea.
I glanced at Kristoff and his reindeer. Kristoff was grimacing, but he was gazing up at the scene in awe, whereas Sven was plain staring, his eyes as round as dinner plates.
The Champion was still thrashing and screaming when the rock golem twisted off his other arm. After hurling it far away, it moved onto his legs.
I did not want to watch. I was sick to my core. I did not want to watch. But somehow I couldn't tear my eyes away.
It was the left leg the stone monster ripped off first, then the right one. The Champion was now limbless. His wails had become husky—he had screamed himself hoarse. After throwing away the severed legs, the creature held out what remained of the man before him as though for inspection. The glittering malice in its eyes told me it liked what it saw.
There was only one part left over. The creature's stony fist folded around the Champion's head, muffling his shrieks. Then with a strong and sharp tug, it pulled off his head, detaching it from his body. Finally, his torment came to an end. The outpouring of dark red blood from the junctures of his body formed puddles on the ground below. The rock golem pitched his torso, then lobbed his head; and the sections, still dribbling blood, arced in the sky before sinking into the sea.
A couple of feet away, Edwin vomited. Behind the stone monster, a male adult did the same. I couldn't blame them. I was feeling beyond repugnant myself.
The rock golem threw out its arms, curved its spine back, and released a triumphant roar into the rose-pink dawn. It strode after the nearest handful of the king's comrades. They hurtled in all directions for safety. BOOM! The golem's mammoth fist thumped the ground, squashing whoever was underneath it. It moved to a different position, crouched, and pounded the ground, turning in a half circle. BOOM, BOOM, BOOM! Black corpses began to dot the square as men were flattened by the golem's onslaught. Two soldiers were pitching spear after spear at the towering creature, but they were merely provoking it. The monster grabbed them in each hand, closed its thick fingers, and squeezed. When it released them, they were nothing but entrails and bone.
I sighted a snowman waddling this way. The soldiers probably took him as harmless at first glance. No wonder they didn't bother to attack him. "Olaf!" I called. It had been ages since I saw him. Where was he this whole time?
Olaf's oval-shaped eyes travelled to me. "Wisty! Hi! Have you seen Elsa?"
I shook my head. "She's most likely in the courtyard. If not, search the dungeons."
"Okey dokey!" He toddled past me and started towards the bridge.
"Wait! What do you need her for?"
Olaf blinked. "To make me useful in battle. You see, she can make me all big and everything!"
I smiled. "I can help with that."
I stretched my arms toward the snowman and slowly swept them upwards. Olaf began to enlarge, growing bigger and bigger and then bigger still. The puffy white cloud that hovered above him and showered him with snow expanded as well. Only when he grew nearly as tall as the rock golem did I restrain my powers. I observed my work. Not so harmless now, is he?
"Go and wreak havoc, big guy!" I shouted, cheering him on.
Giggling, the snowman stalked the soldiers running away from him. He caught up with them in his long strides and trampled them. A dozen quarrels whistled in the air and penetrated his abdomen. The snowman stomped towards the soldiers who aimed them. They lowered their crossbows and began to flee, dashing along the edge of the square. Olaf chased them. His legs may be short and made of snow, but they were hard and rough. They flattened the men one by one. Someone set one of the sticks attached to the snowman's body on fire. Olaf shook the stick in panic but it only caused the wind to fan the flames.
"That's my arm, you nitwit!" Olaf hollered.
He stumbled after the soldier and kicked him hard. The bloke flew over the top of a house with a haunting, echoing cry. Olaf pulled out the bolts that were buried in his abdomen and slung them in all directions, spinning on one leg like a ballerina. Screams reached my ears as troops were being lanced. More soldiers came at Olaf, either discharging more quarrels or emitting waves of supernatural energy to knock him off balance, but Olaf only grinned and kicked them sky high like soccer balls. Then he treaded out of the square to target the king's comrades in the streets.
With both Olaf and the rock golem unleashing destruction, the village was in total chaos.
Brilliant.
The rock golem sighted Hans and bounded at him. I expected Hans to have developed a scheme to outwit the monster by now. Instead, his face blanched and he ran. I wanted to memorize this ravishing sight forever. The king, once haughty and supreme, was scramming! With his tail between his legs! The golem strode after him, determined to take him down. I knew without a shadow of doubt what it intended to do to him when he was captured. I wanted him captured. Just then more troops rushed into the square to fight the stone monster with magic, detaining it. It swatted at them with the back of its hands, but there were too many.
I glanced back. Hans was bolting across the bridge, retreating to the fortress. I couldn't let him slip away.
"Kristoff, he's escaping!" I yelled.
Kristoff steered his reindeer around and shouted, "Hop on!"
He lent me a hand. I clasped it and swung myself onto the reindeer's back behind him and folded my arms around his waist to stay secure. Sven rose on his hind legs, touched down, and galloped straight for the castle. Wind slapped my cheeks, whipped back my hair, and tore at my eyes as we crossed the bridge, where the degree of combat was, fortunately, quite mild.
The outer gates had been left open. It didn't take long for Sven to close the distance between us and our nemesis. Hans peeked over his shoulder, and when he sighted us pursuing him, he released a ray of calamitous yellow light from his palm. Sven veered around it automatically and persisted in chasing him. Hans's flat-out sprint was matchless against a reindeer's gallop. I was surprised he didn't use super speed. Too frightened to, probably.
The gap separating us grew smaller.
Getting there.
Only several meters left.
Any moment now!
Hans barreled through the outer gates. We arrived at the gatehouse seconds later. Movement overhead caused me to look up. From the circular window of the gatehouse a pair of troops were upending a tank full of heated sand. Heart thumping madly, I leaped off the reindeer's back. Kristoff and Sven weren't quick enough. The downpour of heated sand showered them like a monsoon. I landed hard on my side and bumped my head on a stone wall, the aches spreading through me acutely. Unable to get up due to the stabs of pain, I gawked in horror as the red-hot sand muffled Sven's frightened snorts and Kristoff's screeches, penetrated their leather and metal armor, and came into contact with their skin. They went down together as one, buried beneath the gatehouse under the mound.
"No!" I shouted.
The sand was going to scorch their flesh. They were going to suffer. Or worse, die.
A teenage guy named Thatch levitated a vast amount of sand off them using his mind, revealing Kristoff squirming and Sven thrashing, both in terrible pain from the burns. Shame stabbed me in the gut like a knife. I had been selfish throwing myself off of Sven like that, I didn't even think of what would befall my friends.
"Wist, are you alright?" asked a concerned, familiar voice.
The face of the wizard standing before me was partially concealed behind a helmet, but I'd recognize my older brother anywhere. "Whit," I rasped. He looked like he had taken a trip through hell. I was so overjoyed to see him I almost wept.
"Yeah, it's me." Whit helped me to my feet, and I was amazed I could still stand. "Hans is back, but where the heck is his Champion?" he wondered.
I said, "The rock golem tore him to pieces."
"Rock golem?" Whit raised his eyebrows and repeated.
I jerked my chin towards the village and my brother's gaze travelled in that direction. "Oh," he responded in a low voice.
The king was no longer fleeing but had somehow ended up battling Elsa and Pearce in another area of the courtyard. They must've stopped him from escaping to wherever he believed was safe. Elsa's gift in archery and ability to master snow and ice required her to attack only from a distance, whereas Pearce's supernatural powers and swordsmanship allowed him to assault the enemy both at a distance and up close. I glanced sideways at Whit, and Whit glanced at me, and, as if we both settled upon an agreement telepathically, we rushed to our friends' aid. The four of us encircled Hans. My brother's eyes lit up as an idea sprang to him. He swiped his arm downwards in a low crescent. A pearly gray translucent wall the shape of a bowl formed below and around us. Whit swiped his arm in a high arc next, and a dome identical in substance and color to the bowl materialized above us. We were fully enclosed in an egg shell.
The oval wall in which we were confined in begun to rotate. The rotations became quicker and then increased in more speed. I was spinning round and round, and so was Hans and my friends. We were spinning so rapidly I couldn't tell who was who. All I could make out was the blending and blurring of colors. The scenery of the courtyard outside the egg shell changed into a mass of spiraling, swirling gray fog. After a while it dissipated and cleared to reveal a vast room constructed of pure crystal blue icicles.
Whoa. I wobbled on the spot and extended my arms out for balance. I marveled at my surroundings. Icy walls, icy floor, icy ceiling…everywhere you looked was ice. Not rough, jagged, uneven slabs of ice, but smooth and polished ice. Like glass.
The sight of it was stunning, wondrous, and beautiful. I gazed at the king and my friends. We had stayed in the exact same positions as we were back in the courtyard—with Hans at the center and Pearce, Whit, Elsa, and I ringing him. I swiveled my head apprehensively to check for presence of the king's comrades, who could secretly be waiting to ambush us, but no one else was around. Hans was alone.
We were not.
Author's Note:
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