Fire and Ice (38 page)

****

The end was coming one way or another. All I could do now was ride out and meet it. Shoving my sword into its hilt, I opened the door to my fate. As the night progressed I wandered into the center of Mythlandria. Clenched jaw, furrowed brow, I tried to remember some of the incantations, instructions…
anything
Amaryllis had taught me. Supposedly my powers surpassed those of any fey and with Zanthiel's essence intermingled, the danger factor was amplified. Yet, I could no more conjure the magic to stop an ice witch, than move a feather across the table. Something Amaryllis had me practice for hours with little success. I inhaled deeply letting the chill fill my lungs, freezing my fears. I was not like him.
I can do this. I have to do this.

A swirl of black smoke appeared in the darkened clearing. Zanthiel materialized, raven wings folded behind him, like a fallen angel.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded, ignoring the strange sensation seeing him again brought to my stomach. “I thought you had nothing to fear and nothing to lose, or whatever.”

“Shhhhh,” he whispered, placing a pale finger over my lips.

I pulled back. “You know, technically you're right in the line of battle, so you might want to consider flying back to the safety of Faery.”

“You do like the sound of your own voice, don't you?”

I gnashed my teeth.

“Now before you waste anymore verbal ammunition on me, you should know I…
we,
have come to fight.”

“Fight
who
?” I cocked an eyebrow, still wary.

He laughed, the metallic sound filling the green. “All you need to know is I heard you. Your words did not fall on deaf ears. I am here to do what I can, for my part. And I have brought an army of darkness along with me.”

Shivers rippled through me when a barrage of hundreds of ghostly warrior apparitions appeared behind him, their semi-transparent skeletal remains of men, armed with picks, rapiers, and thorny chains. I blinked twice and then they vanished into the forest, their pale glow dissolving among the foliage.

Somehow
knowing
he commanded an army of the undead didn't come close to preparing me for actually seeing it. I shook my head, still speechless. It wasn't like Zanthiel to do something for nothing, and while I knew how much
he had to lose if Octãhvia was allowed to win, I couldn't help question his sudden change of attitude.

“Why now? Why are you helping me?” I squinted up at him, through my veil of suspicion.

“You are the first who has given me an opportunity to mend my wicked ways.” He grinned, and I had to look away.

It still bothered me that his smile was so… compelling. Yet, as unpredictable as he was and as impossible as it seemed, I could tell he was being honest. Sensing the truth behind the words was something I'd become quite good at lately, even without using the Inner Eye. Almost like it was becoming a part of me.

“Then… thank you. We can use all the help we can get,” I replied, scanning the woods for the ghostly soldiers he'd unleashed.

His silver eyes stayed on mine, until I returned his gaze.

“Is that all?” he asked.

“Isn't it?” I said caution flags shooting up.

“I was thinking about the favor you owe me and consider a kiss in exchange.” He grinned, in that way that got under my skin.

I narrowed my eyes, about to hit him with my usual sarcastic retort. But he stepped closer and in a fluid motion his mouth was on mine. His lips felt cool for a brief second before he pulled back. But it was long enough to leave me winded and flushed.

My hands clenched at my sides as I struggled to keep from slapping him then I wheeled around to see Adrius striding toward us.

Taking in the scene, he immediately jumped to all the wrong conclusions. Well, not
exactly
wrong, but… it wasn't Zanthiel I was interested in. He was just… I had no explanations that made sense to me. How could I hope to rationalize it to him?

But I didn't have to. His hostile glare was fixed solely on Zanthiel.

Adrius stalked toward him, stopping a few feet away. His fist slammed into the tree which toppled, landing a hair away from Zanthiel's head, with enough force to make the ground quake. I gasped, squeezing my hands, fingernails biting into my palms. He wouldn't seriously hit him, would he? Not here. Not now. When it was more important than ever we stand together.

“What do you think you're doing?” His voice was even but coated with fire.

“Ask her,” Zanthiel replied with an equal measure of cold.

“I'm asking you.” Fists formed at his side and he stalked closer.

“Well, I'm not here to take orders from an elf.”

Adrius snorted a dark laugh. “I couldn't care less what you want, but you
will
keep your hands off of her.”

My hands flew over my mouth, terrified at what might happen next. I'd seen guys get into it over some girl. It always got ugly and bloody… and that was without the use of magic.

“Just stop already,” I managed to gasp. Rushing into the middle of their face-off, I stretched out my arms preventing them from getting any closer to each other.

Zanthiel's gaze flickered briefly to me and then back to Adrius. “I'm here to save your hides, under her request,” he countered with a dangerous smirk. “So perhaps it is not my
hands
you should be worried about.”

That was it. There was a split second where a vein pulsed in his neck, and then a blur of motion as Adrius slammed into him, sending him reeling backward. Before I could decipher what had happened, they were going at one another with fierce vengeance.

“This cannot seriously be happening right now,”
I sputtered as horror mingled with disbelief. We were moments away from Octãhvia's arrival and they were fighting. With each other. Over
me
.

Zanthiel leapt to his feet, throwing a punch at Adrius's face. He didn't duck in time, wheeling over, but returned the blow with a series of his own, that pummeled into Zanthiel's chest and head.

Sleet began pouring down in torrents, on that fragile edge between snow and rain. Soaking their blood-stained clothes. Adrius had his hands wrapped around Zanthiel's throat. Snarling like animals in the wild, natural enemies. Squeezing, tighter, until Zanthiel kicked him backward, and he flew into the base of a tree. The resounding crack echoed through the forest as the trunk split in two. Adrius cursed in a low guttural growl. In a blur he rallied with a side kick to Zanthiel's ribs, sending him into a back flip.

“Stop…
Stop
!” I hollered, but I knew they would never hear me. This was something that had been building long before I came into the picture. And I was simply the catalyst.

The wind shifted, carrying with it the wintry stench of death. It overtook the scent of herbs I'd grown used to. There was more to worry about than the two of them.

She was
here
.

I could sense it as surely as I could feel the cold penetrating my bones. I carried it with me now, and it was an ever-present internal chill I felt even huddled by a fire.

Zanthiel repositioned himself and crouched into a battle stance. Adrius scoffed and did the same. A split second later the deafening sound of rasping metal filled the glen, twice in succession. Swathing blue frost swirled from Zanthiel's blade and the sword Adrius wielded sparked violent flames. Swords clashed filling the air with screaming metal. They lunged at one another, with lightning speed, while hail rained down over them before melting into puddles of water.

With my heart pounding against my chest, I searched wildly for something that could prevent the destruction they were determined to inflict on each other… something to stop this crazy and potentially fatal clash of fire and ice.

The clopping of hooves arrived before there was much more bloodshed or splintered tree trunks. Julien galloped over on his unicorn and surveyed the brawl with a grunt of disgust. He turned to me.

“Does trouble follow you
everywhere,
Princess?”

I closed my eyes, inwardly pleading for him to help and not add to the trouble for a change.

“Go. Go, I've got this,” Julien called, dismounting and drawing his sword. “You need to get back to the castle. No one can keep you safe here if your sworn protectors are too busy going at each other to do their duty.”

I was reluctant to go. At first, I figured he would side with his brother against Zanthiel. But then I remembered the fury of their sword fight at the Beltane ball and reconsidered that assumption.

With a last look over my shoulder, as Julien grabbed hold of his brother and Zanthiel, I raced to the wall — the eight foot, unassuming structure charged with the impossible task of keeping the enemy out.

The gnawing in my gut, kept eating at me, and I was certain it was my needlessly guilty conscience choosing now to rear its ugly head.
Zanthiel kissed me without my consent… and the first time was a matter of life or death. There is nothing to feel guilty about
, I assured myself.

I rushed toward the guarded entry. It was under a spell cast by the wizard Hawthrin. Only residents of Mythl
andria or invited guests could pass through. But I wondered if it was enough… Octãhvia's magic was more powerful, because the dark always seemed to dominate the light. Clearing the gate, I shoved it closed behind me.

The plan sounded simple enough. Allow O
ctãhvia's armies to come and engage in a battle-royal that would ultimately diminish her numbers. We had the strength of warriors on our side, the Elven guards of the Citadel, the rogue Drakkon warriors, the fey from the Shadow Court, and now the army of t
he undead. Her creatures, though fierce, were no match for what they'd be up against. But that was only the beginning. Strength of arms alone would not be enough to win this.

It was Octãhvia. She was the unstoppable force we had to somehow stop. Adrius and Zanthiel planned to lure her to the clearing, using me as bait. Beyond that, no one seemed sure what would happen. They believed they could better protect me if Octãhvia was drawn out alone.

We were all blindly putting our faith in the prophecy now. The one that insists somewhere in me was the strength to defeat her. Even with the energy of magic I felt swirling inside, I had no idea how. I could only hope their teenage boy brawl was over and they were focused on the insurmountable task at hand.

My question was answered as the pair sauntered into the courtyard, stained, damp, and marked with blood, with Julien marching right on their heels. I winced at the icy gash across Adrius's arm then noticed the one burning on Zanthiel's shoulder.

I wanted to feel sorry for them, but mostly what I felt was frustrated. Served them both right for acting like idiots. They'd fought over the same girl before, so apparently not much has changed. I scoffed then sighed. In spite of my aggravation I would still heal them. It was in my power to do so, and I could never willingly let someone suffer, if it was in my power to help. It was a value I learned from my mom, because as self-centered and flighty as she sometimes was, she was forever generous with helping others in any way she could. Something tightened in my chest, and I swallowed the rising anxiety thinking about her always stirred up. This would all be over soon, one way… or another. And with Adrius and Zanthiel's fight temporarily behind them, the stage was set.

We waited in the forest glen, for
something
to happen. The sun had set. Night had fallen in the deep places of the woodlands and the waterfalls were bathed in twilight. The stars were not the least bit daunted by the impending cold-snap. The air smelled crisp, the way it did moments before the first snowfall. At home it was a welcomed scent. It meant the sweet beginning of winter, Christmas vacation, skiing. Here in the tropical Mythlandria, it had another meaning altogether… something dark and destructive. It symbolized the bitter end.