Rakel offered Oskar a small smile, then walked across banks of untouched snow—freezing it beneath her feet so she wouldn’t fall through. Instead of entering the path that cut its way between mountains and cliffsides, Rakel climbed the embankment, stopping when she was high above the battle and could get a good view of it. She peered over the sheer drop into the path, then studied the side of the mountain and felt it out with her magic, exploring the nooks and crannies of the mountainside. When she found a large pocket of snow, she pulled on it. It cascaded down the mountain, marked by large puffs of snow tossed into the air like a cloud.
It roared, but Rakel kept it leashed as it fell, keeping it away from Verglas troops and resistance fighters. She couldn’t reach all the Chosen soldiers—many of them were in combat with Verglas forces—but the back layer she wiped out with a surge of snow, knocking them off their feet. She carried some of them down the path, as if they were bobbing on water currents instead of snow from an avalanche.
The resistance fighters cheered—a few of them almost got injured they were so distracted and delighted with Rakel’s display of power—but when General Halvor barked, they returned their attention to the battle.
With their numbers cut in half, the Chosen mercenaries edged backwards down the path, moving to rejoin their fallen comrades.
Rakel stabilized the mountainside as Verglas forces gushed past her. She moved to follow them when she realized that a pocket of snow on the mountain on the other side of the pass had been loosened. It tumbled down the mountainside farther up the path. Rakel extended her hand—prepared to stop it if it fell in the direction of Verglas troops—but froze when she realized it was going to fall on top of a Chosen soldier and bury him alive.
The soldier stared up at his oncoming doom, knowing he wouldn’t be able to outrun such a massive downfall. His black hair stuck up at funny angles and was a stark color against the white of the snow.
Rakel knew anyone else would have let him die, but she recognized him as the mercenary who had saved the Begna villager.This invasion has wrought enough death!
She threw her arms out, thrusting her magic from her with a wild rush. She formed a slanted shelf of ice above the soldier, and used it to funnel the snow snug against the mountain, where it would harm no one.
The Chosen soldier had his arms in front of his face, but when he realized the snow wasn’t coming, he lowered his hands and stared at the ice formation.
There.Rakel thought, happy with the outcome. She delighted in using her magic tosave, not destroy. Though she feared less for her life, the whispered hatred and bitterness regular folk held against magic users always ate at her.
“Princess,” General Halvor called. His sleigh was parked at the base of the cliff.
Phile—still mounted—was at his side. “Jump, Little Wolf!”
General Halvor snarled. “Jump?”
Rakel leaped from the embankment, dropping like a rock and landing on a fluffy snowdrift she formed at the base to lighten her fall.
General Halvor was on her in an instant. He didn’t grab her—he was too honorable for that—but he used his presence like a weapon and intimidated Rakel into the sleigh. “That was unnecessary,” he said.
Phile grinned. “Maybe, but it was fun, wasn’t it?”
Rakel let her lips turn up, which made General Halvor’s scowl deepen. “In the future, it would be wisest to refrain from taking unnecessary risks, Princess.” He turned to Phile. “And as for you, Oskar will be informed of the negative impact you have had on the princess.”
“I’m insulted you thought I would be anything else. I’m a Robber Maiden—I can’t be teaching her silly things like winter fashions and colors that complement her skin tone. It would ruin my reputation,” Phile said.
General Halvor ignored the response and flicked the reins, nudging the reindeer at the front of his sleigh.
Phile followed them on horseback. “Please, Handsome Halvor, don’t be angry. It makes me so sad when I don’t hear your velvety voice admonishing me.”
General Halvor, in silence, guided the reindeer farther into the mountain pass. He pulled up behind the intermingled Verglas soldiers and resistance fighters.
The pass was narrower here, banning any kind of fancy formation. The Verglas forces and the Chosen mercenaries faced off toe to toe. Men shouted in pain, weapons clanged, and the air choked Rakel with the metallic scent of blood.
“Do we need to push them in any deeper, Little Wolf?” Phile squinted to see farther down the mountain path.
“Here is fine.” Rakel disembarked from the sleigh—earning her a look of warning from General Halvor.
She eased her way through the troops, careful to stay out of reach of mercenary weapons, but needing to see the ground so she could make the wall to close off the pass. She stretched her fingers out and reached for her magic, relaxing at its cool touch.
Ice burst from the ground, chiseling and sculpting as Rakel channeled her magic. She started her wall on one side of the pass, and dragged ice up until it extended at least two stories high. The ice was as thick as a horse was long, and cold enough to make her lungs ache. Relying on her significant knowledge of architecture, Rakel did not fashion her barrier after a castle wall, but instead built it like a giant dam. It was slanted, curved slightly upward, and was topped with elaborate arches.
She continued to boost up the ice so the dam would extend from one side of the pass to the other. When she reached the halfway point, however, she heard someone shout, “Look out!”
Startled, Rakel raised her gaze just as the Chosen mercenary with the feather-like hair dove in front of her, holding a shield snug to his chest. An arrow—fired from a different mercenary—thumped into his shield.
If he hadn’t intercepted it, it would have hit her.
Phile pushed a mercenary across the boundary. “Finish the wall, Little Wolf!”
