1633880583 (F) (77 page)

Down Joy went, riding the power, and a grin flitted across her face.

Jewelwolf of the Karvaks waited for her with two swords drawn. Innocence lay beside her, bloody from the arrow in his shoulder. Near them, Huginn Sharpspear and his Oxilander assistants had axes out, though they seemed dubious as to whether to use them.

Jewelwolf shared no such doubts. She looked upon the approaching Runethane, chosen of the Heavenwalls, with a knowing smile.

“You can’t stop me!” Joy roared. In the midst of her anger was a bit of sincere concern for the Karvak. There was vast power crackling around her and Malin. “Get out of the way!”

“You are not my prize, Runethane!” Jewelwolf shouted.

She drove both blades into the Great Chain.

Joy was startled to see the metal planes stay intact as they struck the massive artifact. Rather, they sank into the substance of the Chain as though carving meat. Fiery energies rushed up the blades.

“She is eating dragons,” Malin said beside Joy.

Jewelwolf screamed as the power spilled over her hands, but she did not relinquish her grip. She staggered backward, laughing between sounds of agony.

Where the blades had pierced, molten metal flowed out like blood.

A tumult of forces flowed through the Chain and blasted Joy and Malin off, onto the stony island. She had the wind knocked out of her, struggled to rise.

“Joy!” Innocence got unsteadily to his feet.

Joy saw Jewelwolf rushing upon her. She barely rolled in time as two fiery blades scorched the rocks where she’d lain.

“I have it!” Jewelwolf shouted. “The power of dragons! A force to master you, Skrymir, or even the Archmage of Ebontide!”

The ground shook.

“No!” Innocence said. Wounded though he was, he helped Joy up, and then Malin. Even with their support Joy had difficulty with her balance, with Heavenwalls and Chain roaring together in her mind. “It’s happening! You’re disrupting the Chain, waking the dragons.”

“What do I care?” Jewelwolf said. “I can simply draw enough power to silence them. And you.”

“Ah, Torden’s balls!” Huginn snarled. “No one is ever going to trust me again, are they?”

He hurled his axe at Jewelwolf. After a moment’s wide-eyed hesitation, his companions did likewise.

She laughed and caught the first with the swords, like a morsel between chopsticks. The axe head melted; the handle burst into flame.

With precise swings she destroyed the two axes that followed.

“There is an experiment I would like to try again,” Jewelwolf said, striding toward him. First she caught the two young men from Oxiland, one with each blade.

Each fell at once.

“Kollr!” shouted Innocence. “Rolf!”

“Ah, Skrymir?” Huginn bellowed, running away. “Where is a troll-jarl when you need one?”

Jewelwolf whistled, and her troll-enchanted horse raced up to bear her.

“Too many bodies in his wake,” said Innocence to Joy and Malin, “including those who might have been friends. But he saved my life, and gods help me, I’ll repay him. I no longer possess magical might, however.”

“I have a bit too much,” Joy said. “What if I give yours back?”

He shook his head. “It was a gift I can only refuse once.”

Huginn ran through a line of Karvaks. The soldiers let him go, looking upon their cackling khatun with confusion. Huginn was trying to reach the spot of ground where the new balloon was now landing, hard.

He almost reached it.

Jewelwolf rode past him, guiding her horse with her legs only. Leaning over, she hacked Huginn down with two simultaneous slashes.

The great storyteller and jurist fell burning at the horse’s feet. Jewelwolf’s laughter scoured the wind.

“We have to stop her,” Innocence said.

Another tremor rippled through the ground. “No,” Joy said. “My mother, your father, they have to deal with her, somehow. I have to heal the Chain. And you have to stay by me, my friends.”

“My friends,” Malin repeated. “Inga is over there, at that balloon. I have to help her.”

“Go,” Joy said. “Be careful. Innocence . . .”

They leaned on each other. “I’ll stay by you. All the way from here to Ragnarok.”

“Thanks. I think ten feet will do.”

Bone saw Huginn fall just before the balloon came to a thudding stop.

Peik stared at the burning Oxilander. “I am open to a change of plans—” he began, but the impact cut him off.

Steelfox said, “Jewelwolf is my responsibility.”

“You can’t fight her alone,” Snow Pine said.

“At last,” Yngvarr said. “Battle.”

Jewelwolf was grinning as she rode over Huginn’s remains.

“Begging your pardons,” Flint said, “but you have all forgotten something.” He pointed up at the envelope of the balloon. “Natural philosophy? Eh?”

“Oh,” said Bone. “Everybody out!” Peik was already gone by the time he added, “Ah, could someone carry me?”

Snow Pine and Flint hauled Bone out, and their easy teamwork made him miss Gaunt as much as he missed his own health. He looked up and saw that Steelfox, Inga, and Yngvarr were still in the gondola.

“Come, sister,” Steelfox was saying. “Face me.”

“Come out of there,” Jewelwolf replied, laughing. “You were always a coward.”

“Enough,” Yngvarr said. “I will fight on your behalf, Steelfox. You must go. You too, changeling.”

“I’m staying,” Inga said.

“It’s not your fight, Kantenings,” Steelfox said. “You need to be ready for Skrymir.”

That was something Inga could accept, and reluctantly she joined the others.

“It’s not yours either,” Steelfox told Yngvarr.

“Of course it is,” Yngvarr said. “My crimes. My family. Of course it is my fight. And you are the best hope for setting things right. You know this. Yield in this one thing. Go.”

Steelfox looked at Yngvarr and at Jewelwolf. It seemed to Bone that fleeing the gondola harmed Steelfox to the core.

But she leapt after the others.

Yngvarr departed the gondola in the other direction, toward Jewelwolf and the mad horse. “I spit at you, nomad! Your war has destroyed my family! I have the fury of my ancestors burning in my blood! The spirit of the berserker screams within me!”

“Interesting,” said Jewelwolf, dismounting. “I merely have power.”

Stepping forward she blocked his sword thrust with one blade and stabbed him through the heart with the other. He burst into flame. Screaming the names of Torden, Arthane, and Orm, he tumbled backward into the gondola, flames leaping upward.

Wide-eyed, arms gripped between his friends, Bone saw Haboob reach out a smoky hand to Jewelwolf. “O mighty khatun,” it said. “I have a secret to tell you.”

“What is that—” she said merrily, stepping forward.

An explosion burst the balloon’s envelope, raining gouts of fire everywhere.

Jewelwolf cursed and raised the swords in an effort to block the destruction. And indeed much of the conflagration was absorbed into the weapons. Nevertheless she dropped the blades and fell backward onto the stones, her deel smoking.

Her horse was not so lucky. Its screams would haunt Bone for the rest of his days. The last he saw of it, it was like a blazing comet, streaking for a watery grave.

Guraab
rose blazing into the air, twisting and tearing. Yngvarr Thrall-Taker had this distinction; he was the first foamreaver to have a balloon as his funeral craft.

Steelfox raced to her sister’s side, while nearby Inga and Peik knelt beside the swords. Soon Bone arrived with Snow Pine and Flint. “Just set me down,” Bone said. “Nice and warm here.”

“Where is Gaunt when we need her?” Snow Pine lowered him. “You need kicking.”

“Enough taunting the thief, my dear,” said Flint. He pondered the swords. “Schismglass is mirror-like again. It knows you’re here. Are you prepared to wield it?”

“We don’t have a choice, do we?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Snow Pine raised the blade, a length of reflective crystal, within which Bone perceived writhing purple fires. Huginn Sharpspear’s face sometimes appeared, screaming something inaudible. Bone looked away.

“I think I can manage with it,” Snow Pine said. “What about you? Are you willing to wield Crypttongue again?”

“I am a man of natural philosophy,” Flint said, “a rejector of gods, and I dislike magic. After all we’ve been through, it seems to me supernatural forces are unhealthy for humanity. Both the religious man I was and the rational man I am can agree on that. But there is need. And I do have experience with this blade.” He picked up Crypttongue, swung it. “There are many Kantenings in here . . . Muggur . . . Floki . . . they want revenge against what brought chaos to their lands, even if they participated themselves. And Yngvarr too. He warns us to watch for Skrymir.”

“That can be my job,” Bone said. “I’m not going anywhere fast.”

“Huginn is in my blade,” Snow Pine said. “Along with many of the Fraternity of the Hare. They tell us we can defeat Skrymir by placing something we value in the cavity of his heart. Friend Peik, I know you must be tired. But can you walk a rune for us? Keep the balloons at bay at least?”

“I will try,” said the boy, staring at the fiery wreck of their craft.

“Inga, you guard him,” said Snow Pine.

“All right,” Inga said. “But if Skrymir comes, I’m in that fight.”

“Steelfox?” Snow Pine asked.

“My sister lives,” Steelfox said, “though I know not how. The power in those swords must have saved her. Her hands are burned and need attention. She sleeps. She can’t harm us for now.”

“I won’t ask you to kill her,” Snow Pine said. “I should, but I won’t. But we should truss her up.”

“I can do that,” Bone said. “You need Steelfox to talk to the Karvaks.”

As he worked, the others spoke with the soldiers, who backed off. Jewelwolf had thoroughly terrified her honor guard.

Joy was exerting her powers on the great Chain. The ferocious play of magics, resembling fire and mist and molten rock, made Bone highly sympathetic with Flint’s opinion of magic, but her efforts might keep them all alive. There was still considerable rumbling in the strait. He did not know if she was succeeding.

He missed Gaunt. She should be here. Then again, perhaps not being here would keep her alive.

“The ice is indeed very thick, however,” Northwing said, “and that which is fastened to the land extends many miles. It is madness to consider traversing it. And yet less mad than I thought.”

“Are you willing to try it?” Gaunt asked. She felt a strange sense of familiarity as she said the words.

As Northwing thought it over, there came a dim rumbling. It seemed strongest far to the southeast.

“Strange . . .” murmured Haytham ibn Zakwan.

“What do you see?” Katta asked, inclining his head.

“Did you notice it?” Gaunt asked Haytham, for she had glimpsed something peculiar in that direction.

“I think I did. . . .”

“Tell me!” Katta said.

Gaunt said, “For a moment I saw a gigantic conflagration, as though the dragons underlying Spydbanen and Svardmark had arisen. . . .”

“I too,” said Haytham.

“And I,” said Northwing. “But it was all transparent, like a reflection on dark water. And now it is gone.”

“A vision?” Katta said. “A premonition?”

“I don’t know,” Gaunt admitted. “But I do think we need to reconsider our journey onto the ice. It may be critical we reach the Chained Straits.”

“It will take a long time to get there,” Northwing mused. “Weeks. Hm.”

“What is it?” Gaunt said. “Don’t hold back.”

“I’ve been struck by those soul-eating swords, Crypttongue and Schismglass. They tried to claim me. Well, turnabout’s fair play, and I’ve felt a connection to the swords since that time. Maybe I could make a spirit journey to their location.”

“Do it. Please. I need to know what is happening. I feel certain Bone is mixed up in this. Innocence too.”