The Eye of Winter's Fury (43 page)

For a moment, the only sound comes from the creak of the shutters and the gale venting its fury on the other side. A stray breeze brushes past you, ruffling through your unruly fringe. Trembling, you put a hand to your head, feeling the matted curls of hair, the coldness of your scalp. Cold like death. You draw your hand away, startled when you see clumps of loose hair still tangled between your fingers.

The knight looks up, kindness – or perhaps pity – written on his face. ‘You have been through a lot, my prince. I understand you must have questions – as we do ourselves.’

‘Who . . . who are you?’ You force the words past the soreness in your throat.

‘I am Lord Everard,’ states the man in armour. He rises to his feet, before gesturing first to the crimson-robed gentleman and then to the rogue. ‘And this is Segg and Rook. Both sworn to Bitter Keep – to its rocks and mortar, and to the blood of the Last Order. For Valeron and its king, we serve.’

‘King?’ Rook shakes his head and turns away. ‘There is no king.’ He pulls open the door and leaves, his black cloak trailing after him like a living shadow. The door clatters closed of its own accord.

The Last Order.
You have the heard the name many times – a group of hardy soldiers who defend the walls and castles along the Great Rift, protecting the kingdom from the monsters and barbarians of the north. You had always pictured it as a remote place, far from anywhere, on the very edge of the world – where civilisation meets the chaotic, frozen wastes of Skardland. The Last Order. So-called, because no one ever comes back.

You glance down at your body – now a slab of thick-set muscle. Gone is the thin, weakling prince. In his place, something else has been dragged into life. Something different. Something changed.

292

You awake to cramping muscles. Unable to support yourself, your legs give way and you fall – slamming hard against the ground. Beneath you, the wooden floorboards are rattling as they knock against each other, their foundations rocked from side to side. All around you, the air is thick with dust and ice – the groaning and shuddering of the hall a grim reminder of what occurred at Bitter Keep.

‘Anise,’ you manage to gasp through locked teeth.

You try and rise but are thrown sprawling back onto your stomach.

There is a scream from somewhere behind you, then the sound of earth being ripped apart.

With effort, you manage to shut out the confusion – relaxing your body, pushing the magic into your dead limbs, bringing them steadily back to life.

With a brutish roar you spring to your feet, weapons drawn and ready.

Through the ice you can see Skoll, seated on his throne. You can feel the heat, the magic, emanating from his body. The frozen walls are starting to crack, accompanied by a thunderous boom as the half-giant’s awakened power pummels against his prison.

‘Arran! Help us!’ A young girl’s voice.

You snap round, looking for its source.

‘Arran!’

Your sharp eyes penetrate the dusty fog, settling on Anise and the white-haired einherjar Aslev. Both are struggling to move debris aside
to rescue a trapped warrior. He is pinned to the ground, his legs and arms tangled around the body of the wooden statue.

‘Allam’s teeth, what are you doing?’ A familiar, flabby face leans out of the rubble, barking orders angrily. ‘Use your axe,’ spits Gurt. ‘Come on, you fools, try harder!’

You start towards them, but a warning from Nanuk draws you up short – a raw snarl that diverts your attention to an open doorway.

Three crimson-robed women are hurrying through it, their skirts bunched in their fists. They are followed by a fourth, moving with slower, more confident strides, her slender body dressed in a glittering gown of frost-blue silk. Charms and trinkets flash amongst her braided white hair. Syn Hulda.

The tremors subside, but their fury is now written on the asynjur’s face. ‘What is this?’

Another crack of ice.

The woman’s eyes widen as they look upon Skoll’s throne. Deep fissures are now forking outwards from the entombed warrior – crumbling the ice and breaking it apart. ‘It can’t be,’ she chokes in horror. ‘He returns!’

Her furious gaze sweeps across the hall, alighting on you with a chill look of hatred. ‘Fools! I will have your souls for this! You are all traitors – and you will be destroyed!’

The asynjur throws back her head, a fierce blue light radiating from her eyes. ‘Now, look upon me – and fear!’

Her pale skin hardens to ice, her body bulging as it begins to grow, splitting through the seams of her gown. Horns slide outwards from her brow, curving and branching to form a pair of barbed antlers. There is a snapping of bones, the ripping of muscle. You watch transfixed as the beast’s legs fold back on themselves, toes curling inwards to become cloven hooves.

Syn Hulda has transformed herself into a demon.

The other asynjur share your horrified amazement, backing away from the terrible apparition. As one, they begin to chant a spell – some enchantment to ward themselves from this evil. But they are too late.

With a snarl the demon raises a clawed hand, sending spears of frost lancing into each of the mages. Their shrieks are deafening as flesh turns to ice, their bodies distorting and reshaping themselves
into devilish monsters. They drop onto all fours, scampering to their mistress’s side. She pats at their frozen manes with a loving affection. ‘Ah, loyalty – so rare and precious a thing.’ Her frosted lips crack into a fang-toothed smile. ‘You will kneel before me too, southlander. Or suffer the same fate!’

Desperately, you look back to the throne. The ice continues to crumble and melt, but Skoll is still trapped inside and unable to aid you. Anise scoops up a discarded sword and starts forward but Aslev snatches her arm, pulling her back.

‘Let me go!’ she snaps angrily. ‘We can fight!’

‘Don’t you dare turn your back on me!’ splutters Gurt, kicking his legs feebly in the air. ‘Free me, now. That is an order!’

Aslev grinds his teeth, clearly torn by some internal struggle. ‘The hall is lost,’ he says gruffly. ‘We should rally the others.’

‘To Hel with the others!’ roars Gurt. ‘Now get me out of here!’

Anise continues to wrestle against Aslev. ‘The hall is not lost!’ she asserts, tears welling in her eyes. ‘Remember your duty! The einherjar are sworn to protect the Drokke!’

Aslev looks to you, questioningly.

‘Stay back!’ you command, waving them away. ‘Aslev is right. Fetch aid – summon the others!’ You spin to face the grotesque demon, hoping to buy time for your companions to escape. With weapons raised, you advance towards the former asynjur.

‘What is this?’ snorts the demon. ‘A show of courage from the young whelp? Too foolish and stubborn to know when to kneel before your betters.’

You bare your teeth in a snarl. ‘I am the last blood of King Leonidas, a crown prince of Valeron – and I kneel before no-one!’ Magic ignites the air, sparking around your enchanted weapons. From the Norr, you feel Nanuk’s spirit wash into you, filling you with a primal strength. You tense, ready to attack . . .

‘Wait!’ You hear the scuff of boots as Aslev races to your side. ‘You will not face this evil alone, prince of Valeron. I am an einherjar – and this is my hall to protect.’

Anise takes position at your other shoulder, glaring at you past a hard frown. ‘Leave it to a woman to talk sense,’ she scowls. ‘Think you’re the only one with a score to settle?’

The einherjar lifts an ivory horn to his mouth, then blows a single
shrill note into the air. Its piercing blast awakens something deep inside you. Your body pulses, your powers quickening.

You meet the warrior’s gaze – and in that briefest of moments, you share a connection: a kinship.

‘For Valeron!’ you cry.

‘For Skardland!’ calls Aslev, raising his axe.

‘Free me, you fools!’ screams Gurt.

Then together the three of you charge the demon, your battle cries joined by the frenzied clash of iron and magic. It is time to fight:

	Special abilities
	Sound the charge! : For the first two rounds of combat your speed is increased by 2.
	Ice skin : (*) Syn Hulda has an armour of 10. Once her health is reduced to 40 or less, her armour is lowered to 4. (Note: Syn Hulda is immune to any abilities that would ordinarily lower her armour .)
	Ice fangs : At the end of every combat round you must take 1 damage, ignoring armour , from each frost hound still in play.
	Ice breaker : When a frost hound is reduced to zero health , its body explodes into fragments of jagged ice. Each hound causes 5 damage, ignoring armour . (If you have the insulated ability, this damage is reduced to 2.)
	Ice prison : Roll a die at the end of each combat round. Once you have rolled three results, Skoll will have freed himself from his ice prison and will join you in combat. He will immediately heal you, restoring 6 health , and increase your damage score by 2 for the remainder of the combat.
	Body of ice : Your opponents are immune to bleed , decay and venom .