Rakel reached for more of her magic. Ice began to bloom like flowers across the battlefield. She formed a hundred ice swords and threw them at Tenebris. He shattered them with a wall of his dark magic.
“He’s not going to pull back,” she muttered. She glanced back at the Verglas forces. They were standing their ground against the Chosen mercenaries—the resistance forces were ripping through their ranks with their archers—but the cold temperatures, wild wind, and the snow were slowing them down.
They can’t survive in this much longer. If Tenebris won’t leave, I have to trap him long enough for us to leave.
Recalling the various cages she had forged out of ice, Rakel rubbed the tips of her fingers together and grabbed as much magic as she could handle. Her ears rang, and her knees buckled under the physical strain as she pulled at all the ice and snow in the area.
The ground rumbled, and men shouted as the hills themselves shuddered and groaned. Rakel swallowed and carved into the ground with her ice magic, creating a circular wall that spiraled around Tenebris and his guards. When she raised the height of the walls, he seemed to guess what she was trying to do and tried to use his magic to destroy the wall. He reacted too slowly, however, and Rakel patched whatever holes he made as he struggled to break free.
She gave the walls a ceiling, creating a perfect sphere of ice that entombed the Chosen leader. She barely noticed when Farrin dispatched two soldiers and joined her.
He tilted his head, an appreciative grin playing on his lips. “I see,” he said. “If he doesn’t realize what you’re planning…it will be brilliant.”
As if in response, a booming noise made the ground shake, and a side of the ice sphere was blown to pieces. The rest of the sphere—thick and frosty—cracked and fell in on itself, making a dangerous avalanche of ice shards and blocks. Just to be safe, Rakel then dropped a load of wet, heavy snow from the hillsides on top of the fractured ground.
There was no sign of life.
“Retreat!” General Halvor shouted.
Rakel held a fist of magic to keep herself standing upright. She blinked, and Farrin was gone.
Phile whistled. “Little Wolf!”
“Here, Princess.” Oskar lifted Rakel onto his horse. “Can you hold on long?”
“For a bit. How are our troops?”
“Battered, but I don’t think this could be considered a loss. The Chosen sustained a much higher mortality rate,” Oskar said, mounting up behind her.
Rakel almost fell off the side when the horse lunged forward.
“Fall back in formation,” General Halvor shouted. “Take the injured, butmove!” His pony tossed its head and whinnied when Farrin appeared, not even out of breath.
“Tenebris is calling a retreat,” he said. “He has one slight injury, but a colonel and one of his close companions were both grievously injured by the falling ice.”
“Shouldn’t we push him now?” Frodi asked. He stood as if it pained him, but he still held a ball of fire. At his side—also mounted on a pony—was Steinar.
“No,” General Halvor said. “Our soldiers cannot continue with this pace. We need to regroup and reorganize.”
“But Halvor,” Steinar said.
“The princess cannot fight Tenebris any longer. She is barely holding on the way it is,” General Halvor said.
Concern furrowed Farrin’s brow as he watched her.
He’s worried—he doesn’t know this is normal.Rakel forced her lips into a quick smile.
Farrin frowned gravely and gently held one of her hands.
General Halvor eyed them, but addressed Steinar. “As it stands, we don’t have anyone capable of fighting him without sustaining heavy losses. I’m calling a retreat.”
Steinar nodded.
Rakel shut her eyes and strained to hold on.
“Princess,” Halvor said.
Instead of speaking, Rakel opened her eyes.
