Our cat lowers on its haunches, a growl rumbling deep in its chest. Its instinct must be to run, but the groan of the ice holds it still. No sudden movements – a mountain-mantra we were issued, along with our climbing equipment, back in Meissa, and more important than ever to respect out here on this frozen wasteland. We have no choice but to maintain our careful pace as the frostfangs dart in sleek arrowhead formation closer and closer to the edge of the glacier.
They pause when they meet the ice. Snouts lower; scenting. Tentative paws creep forwards. I hold my breath, offering up another silent prayer that they’ll choose to turn back. That they won’t risk crossing.
But then they’re on the ice, rushing forwards.
About twenty of them. Lance-thin.
Hunger has made them bold. Desperate. Even with their numerical advantage, confronting the cragstalkers in the open like this is risky. Yet they show no fear.
The cats bunch together, hackles raised, ears flat, as the frostfangs circle closer.
Blayze’s eyes flash. His face is flushed, lips twisted in a pitiless smile. It’s the same expression he wore in Galtair, standing over the guards, his face streaked with their blood, before he went to fetch Leilani on my orders, while I went to greet the cragstalkers.
The killer in him stands ready to surface again.
‘Dismount!’ he cries, already reaching for the mace he commandeered from one of those self-same guards. ‘We need to free the cats.’
Part of me bristles at the order, but for all my success in the lists, all the sword-training I received at the Asteum, Blayze was right in the Armoury: I’ve never seen real combat. To pretend he’s not the right person to lead us now would be foolish. And I’m no one’s fool. So, I obey, dropping to the ice, responding to the urgency in his voice.
I’m all too aware of the placement of my feet, the moan of the ice beneath me as, fumble-fingered, I help Leilani pick at the knots restraining the cragstalker that carried us, so it can defend itself against the frostfangs.
Why did Blayze make them so tight?
Beneath my hands, the cat’s throat rumbles with a low roar. It pricks back its ears and curls its upper lip.
Snarling jaws come at us from every direction, spittle foams and drips from the wolves’ fangs. They’ve fenced us on all sides.
Now the cragstalkers are free, we sidle close to one another, a tangle of elbows and shoulders as we huddle, back-to-back, forming a tight circle. I’m glad of the press of the others’ bodies, glad too of the cats slinking in slow orbit around us, Briar along with them.
‘Draw your weapons,’ Blayze whispers.
We brandish our motley collection of stolen daggers, blades and maces. Tansy carries our lone bow. I reach beneath my cloak to draw the Crescent Sword at my side, pressing the ridges of its hilt against my tightly curled palm, now slick with sweat.
There’s a yowl, a whine, a scuffling, a thud. Blood soils the front paw of one of the patrolling cats. It paints the ice crimson as it limps its circuit around us. One of the frostfangs lies motionless.
Blayze, mace raised high, jostles position, moving from Maris’ side to Leilani’s, narrowly missing impaling himself on the edge of my sword as he wedges himself there. Before I have a chance to object, he pushes Leilani behind us, thrusting her to the centre of the protective ring we now form around her.
‘What are you doing?’ She elbows Blayze’s shoulder, tries to barge her way free.
‘You’re supposed to save us all, Sparkles. So, you’re the one who needs protecting,’ Blayze says. He’s acted well. I should have thought of it first.
She grapples against him. ‘But—’
‘But nothing,’ I hiss. ‘He’s right. Stay there.’
She claws at my arm. ‘I will n—’
A cascade of velvety notes swallows the rest of her protest. Maris and Delphine stand, weapons raised, free hands entwined, as silky strains of spritesong stream from Delphine’s lips and lilt over the ice. The cragstalkers maintain their slinking orbit, crouched low to the ice, ready to pounce. The howl and whine of the wolves, the snap of their jaws as they lunge for the cats, continue unchecked. Both packs seem impervious to the melody, but my limbs and eyelids grow torpid. It’s hard to focus, hard to make sense of what’s going on. I only snatch glimpses of the frostfangs through the circling pack and driving snow.
The cragstalker with the injured paw stumbles, breaking formation. It’s the opening the wolves have been waiting for. Two blurred streaks of grey tear forwards, launching themselves at the cat. It’s the smallest one – the one that carried Tansy and Delphine from Talini. I tighten my grip on my sword, crouch lower to the ice, ready to attack.
Another yowl. Claws bat the grey smudges away. More blood spatters the ice. Thud. Thud. Two frostfangs flung to the ground. Their necks break with hollow snaps. A deeper yowl. A heavier thud. A breach in the circle, as the cragstalker collapses. Cracks splinter the ice. Frostfangs rush towards us, whines tearing at my ears.
Blayze pushes Leilani again, thrusting her further back, as he strides to meet the wolves, swinging his mace. Maris goes with him, shortsword raised high above her head. Tansy, Delphine and I close ranks around the Princess. Tansy lifts her bow, draws back one of our few precious arrows, lets it fly.
Wet, tearing sounds swell, so gut-wrenching, even Delphine’s silken song can’t drown them out, as the frostfangs swarm on the fallen cragstalker.
‘Briar, no!’
