“That is where you’re mistaken. It’s only just beginning.”
They’re face to face: flaming black eyes to ice.
“In the end, nature will win. It always does,” Kiki says.
“Nothing can overcome nature, except me.”
“Strange thing about nature,” Kiki starts, “it isn’t predictable. Neither am I.”
Leith’s hesitation before responding gives Kiki the chance to toss the blade toward me. I catch it deftly.
Winter air explodes from her hands and all at once, the frost of an early morning sweeps along Leith’s skin, covering his face, his eyes, and his hair. It crackles as it forms crystals. She uses her frost fae magic to freeze him in place.
The patrol launch into action. The Raven’s Rising spring from their hiding places, weapons at the ready. And the bearmen march closer, shaking the earth.
Chapter 28
Ineke
“We will not surrender. We will not retreat. We will have our freedom,” Soren thunders as he commands our soldiers to descend on the castle.
The driving snow creates a winter white canvas of the sky and earth. For the briefest moments, we’re all frozen like the king, but then the inner court floods with figures in raven black as the Rising enters. The seers, the people from the Basin, the Flats, Battersea, and the Roost, from every nook and cranny of Raven’s Landing, the bearmen, and beyond who’re willing to fight, swear their allegiance to each other as they rush into battle against the king’s patrol.
I swipe a blade from a distracted guard and lunge forward, defending myself as several guards with their swords lifted charge in my direction. I launch onto the upper steps, sidestepping the still-frozen king, dodging the swiftly slicing metal before I cut the snow-filled air with the weapon in my hand and send patrolmen crumpling to the ground.
A fist rams into my side, and a guard hisses that he wants his blade back. I lose my balance and slide along the slick ground. A reedy guard loses his footing and crashes after me, but I’m quickly back on my feet.
I swing my blade, dodging others, retreating sideways, lunging, thrusting, blocking. It’s frigid mayhem as the figures in red uniforms strike the Raven’s Rising. It’s pure chaos as the people of Raven’s Landing and bearmen clash with the king’s guards.
Soren roars from the base of the steps, attacking a pair of the patrol with fervor, swinging a mallet in one hand, and warding off another guard with a blade in the other.
A knee meets my abdomen and I double over, clutching my arms around myself. My body vibrates with pain and exhaustion, but also determination. I heave to my feet, dodging a heavy punch. I swing my leg around and knock over the guard, saving my magic for those who fight with it. You know, to keep things relatively fair. Magic to magic, hand to hand.
I slide in the snow and kick the guard hard, finding a rhythm as we parry: arms swinging, fists connecting, blow after blow after blow.
The sounds of blades, grunts, battle cries, and painful moans overpower the particular silence of the falling snow.
A guard knocks me hard to the ground: my back and head slam into the edges of the stone steps. Stars twinkle in the dimness of day. Snow and feathers drift toward me. He swings again, but I roll over, scrambling to my feet. I scan the ground for a weapon as two more patrols back me toward the door to the castle. One slashes his sword at me, but I duck. The other tries to grab my wrist to restrain me, but I’m too quick. However, the castle hems me in from behind and there’s nowhere for me to go, but in. I run my hands over the engraved wood, searching for a handle.
“Surrender to the king,” orders a familiar voice.
I slowly turn, shaking my head.
“Do you like the taste of blood?” the second asks.
I recognize their voices from the wall at Bearsden: Moss and Heath.
“You can choose freedom with the Rising or die in Leith’s service,” I offer.
“You don’t seem to be in the position to wager,” Moss says, his long sword slanting and ready to slice.
I look between their shoulders, lift my arms, and swiftly catch two knives that Soren pitches in my direction. The movement sends them both whirling around, but they quickly recover and engage us. Soren and I fall into cadence, swinging and slashing, protecting each other as the patrolmen take turns trying to defeat us on the stairs. We circle the place where Leith stood frozen, but he’s no longer in the midst of the clashing blades, the thick pummel of fists jabbing, pounding, and punching.
That’s not good. In fact, it’s really, really bad. I had no idea how long my magic would hold him. I’d better start taking notes. I scan for Leith, but shrouded in black, he’d easily blend in with those united against him.
The rumble of truth has arrived in the form of the people of Raven’s Landing standing up for themselves and crumbling the walls they’ve constructed out of fear. They’re the foundation of this kingdom and they deserve a fighting chance. This is what we can give them.
The seers in their shawls and robes swing ropes with stones on the end. Shopkeepers, dressed in jackets woven to look like feathers fight with crude wooden tools, blades, swords, and chains. People who’ve remained hidden fight with fists and feet, swinging and kicking. Children line the wall, lobbing icy snowballs at the patrol, their crimson uniforms as red as the blood in the snow. The warriors of the Raven’s Rising continue to battle for all of our lives. And the bearmen invoke battle rage, topping all in their path, but I don’t see the silver king in their
