Forged in Magic (Dragon's Gift: The Protector Book 5) Page 9

  Warily, I walked forward. I was about to call on my dragon sense when figures stepped out of the darkness ahead of us.

  They were shrouded in gray robes. Wind flickered, blowing the fabric back and revealing icy forms.

  “They’re not human,” Del whispered.

  “Nope.” They were made of ice, just like the ship.

  They stalked toward us, their flowing robes unable to conceal the rigid movements of their icy forms.

  I stepped forward. “Hello. I am—”

  They gestured, cutting off my words.

  Well, okay. That was pretty clear. I looked at my friends. Most shrugged and nodded, which was about how I felt too.

  The figures waved us forward, then turned and walked slowly away. We obeyed, tromping through the snow after them. They didn’t lead us far, just a few dozen yards to where four large sleighs waited. Each was oversized and pulled by a massive polar bear.

  One of the bear’s nostrils quivered, then his big head swung around, and he pierced me with cunning black eyes. He roared, the sound shaking snow from a nearby tree.

  I stiffened, heart leaping into my throat.

  One of the cloaked figures held up a hand, his cloak waving in the breeze. The bear abruptly quieted, but continued to glare at me.

  “Without those guys in cloaks, we’d be bear kibble,” Cass whispered.

  “Yep.” I shuddered and climbed into one of the carriages. It, too, was built of ice. Warily, I sat on the bench, waiting for it to melt against my butt.

  When it didn’t, I relaxed. Thank fates for magic.

  Ares joined me, along with Cass and Aidan. Del and Roarke joined Connor and Claire in a sled, while Aerdeca, Mordaca, Bree, and Ana took the other. The cloaked figures sat in the last.

  No one said a word, but somehow the bears knew to leave. They lumbered through the snow, effortlessly pulling our carriages.

  “This is amazing and terrifying,” Cass said.

  “Yep. If it weren’t for the creepy magic and the icy grim reapers, it’d be a winter fairy tale.” I looked up at the snow that had begun to fall. The flakes were fat and white, and settled on the bears’ thick white coats.

  “I had no idea any of this existed,” Aidan said.

  “I don’t think anyone knows,” Ares said. “The magic that brought the boat was triggered by Nix. She felt it, but I felt nothing.”

  “I didn’t feel anything either,” Cass said.

  “Well, I just hope I’m not leading us to our deaths.”

  The creepy magic grew stronger as the polar bears pulled our sleighs over hills of snow and past a wide, icy river. Heaviness hung over the place, a threatening magic that raised the hair on my arms.

  If these were the ancient gods—the primordials—they were the ones that people had been afraid of. They weren’t the happy summer gods who brought sunshine and harvest, that was for sure.

  As the sleighs glided over the ground, the moon glittered brightly on the snow. Thank fates it was full—we needed all the light we could get in the endless dark of a Svalbard winter. When we crested a large hill, the moon illuminated the scene ahead.

  A steep-sided mountain loomed. An icy castle was built into the base, a massive structure that glittered in the moonlight.

  “Whoa.” I’d seen an ice hotel on TV before. This was nothing like that measly structure. The castle was oversized—like giants would live within.

  “That’s ten times the size of a normal castle,” Ares said.

  He was right. The walls had to soar a thousand feet high. The turrets went even higher, ornate structures that pierced the sky like needles.

  The polar bears roared and picked up their pace, racing toward the castle at a breakneck speed.

  “Like horses heading home,” Cass said. “They must want their hay.” She hesitated. “Or raw flesh or whatever.”

  I grimaced, hoping we wouldn’t run into the polar bears when they weren’t with their creepy tenders.

  The eerie magic increased as we neared the castle. It crept over my skin, cold and prickly. Gods always had the strongest magic, but this was off the charts. We weren’t even within the castle walls yet, and I already wanted to climb out of my skin.

  The bears slowed in front of the castle, drawing to a halt. A huge gate was set into the walls that towered overhead. I tilted my head back and looked up. The floor dropped away from me, and my head spun. I clung to the seat beneath me. Hello, vertigo.

  In the other sleigh, one of the figures stood and raised an arm. Sparkling light swirled toward the gate, which groaned as it slowly opened. A blast of freezing air rushed out. I huddled against Ares. He wasn’t any warmer, but his presence was a comfort.

  The bears dragged the sleighs into a massive courtyard. Somehow, the castle felt bigger from inside. Like it was built for giants.

  Ah, crap. I really hoped it hadn’t been.

  In the middle, a huge fountain shot crystal clear water into the air. In this cold, it should have frozen. But then, the rules didn’t apply when there was so much magic in the air.

  As smoothly as ghosts, the cloaked figures rose and gestured us forward. Silently—this place seemed to demand silence—we rose and followed them through a huge door decorated with swirled silver set into the ice.

  The air vibrated as we went into the massive room beyond. The ceiling soared above, so high that eagles could have flown through without a problem.

  I leaned toward Ares and whispered, “If this is the only way to get to the mountain of dragons, how did Drakon make it through?”

  “That is a very good question.” Ares’s tone was grim.

  We gathered in the middle of the room, which was empty save for a massive ornate ledge on the far wall. When I heard the first thundering footsteps, it dawned on me that the ledge might be a bench.

  I straightened my spine and sucked in a breath.

  Then the magic came. Dark and cold and roiling like the sea in winter. It brought with it a howling wind, hunger, and grief.

  Yes, these were the winter gods. The darkness of the most desolate time of year. I swayed on my feet, trying to resist the crushing sensation. It felt like an avalanche pounding down on me. Out of the corner of my eye, my friends swayed where they stood, each wobbly but determined to hold their stance.

  The giants entered one at a time, entering from an archway to the left. The first was built of jagged icicles. Slender and angular, he was at least sixty feet tall. He stalked toward the bench. The face was androgynous, but somehow I knew he identified as male, and that his name was Isedor. I’d have staked my life on it. That was a crazy godly skill, putting your name directly into someone’s mind.

  Then came a massive man who was tinged vaguely blue. He was the color of a corpse almost, stocky and muscular, with the squashed face that I normally associated with dwarves. But he was far too large. His hair and beard looked to be made of snow, and his clothes were the faded gray of a winter morning. Lyrtjur, was his name. Once again, it blazed in my mind.

  The third figure was almost difficult to see. It entered as a breeze carrying snowflakes, a wind that took the shape of a woman with long flowing hair. She was visible from some angles and not from others, depending upon her stride. The personification of a winter wind, if I had to guess. Called Varemar.

  They each took a seat on the bench on the far wall. They towered so far over us, and their magic was so strong, that I felt like nothing more than a gnat at their feet.

  They had to grant us passage, or we were screwed.

  “Who are you?” said Varemar. Like her snowy, ephemeral figure, her voice sounded like a wind whistling through a forest, which should be impossible. But not here.

  I stepped forward, muscles trembling from cold and fear. “I am Phoenix Knight. I’ve come to defeat the evil Drakon.”

  “Ah, you come at last,” said Varemar.

  “You’re not easy to find.”

  “Drakon managed,” said Isedor, the icicle giant. His voice grated lik
e ice rubbing against gravel.

  “He came before me?” My heart thudded.

  The pale blue giant nodded. “He passed here three days ago.”

  I gasped. “You let him through?”

  Too late, I realized that my tone sounded like an accusation. The icicle giant surged to his feet, chips of ice breaking off him to crash to the ground.

  “I’m sorry. That tone was rude,” I said. “Please accept my apologies.”

  The icicle god threw out his hand, a harsh gesture that sent a blast of freezing wind right at me. It bowled me over, sending me tumbling across the icy ground. I slammed into the wall behind me, my back aching.

  Slowly, I dragged myself to my feet, grateful to see that my friends were all still standing. Tension radiated through Ares, but he was keeping it together.

  Good. None of us could beat these guys. Not even Ares.

  “Enough, Isedor.” The blue giant, Lyrtjur, made a calming gesture with one hand.

  Isedor grumbled, and then sat.

  I walked forward on trembling legs, trying to craft my apology. But the snowy wind god spoke before I could.

  “What makes you think we would not allow Drakon through our territory?” Varemar asked.

  I stopped next to Ares, dumbstruck. “Well, uh, he’s incredibly evil. He’s going to awaken the dragons and wreak havoc everywhere. Then he’ll steal all the magic from the world.”

  Sounded like a laundry list of the worst shit ever to me.

  But the snowy wind god shrugged an ephemeral shoulder. “You assume we don’t want Drakon to succeed. Which is quite myopic of you.” She turned to the other two gods. “Why is it that humans are always so obsessed with themselves?”

  While I could say that the gods gave us a run for our money, I’d better not.

  Varemar turned back to me. “Our magic has nothing to do with your magic. All the supernaturals on Earth could lose their powers, and we would be the same as ever. We owe you nothing.”

  It was easy to assume that they wouldn’t just help us for the sake of it, then.

  Isedor shifted, his icicles glinting in the light. “And you assume that we like the status quo. We don’t. We haven’t been worshipped for millennia.” He gestured to the empty great hall. “So we sit here, bored. If Drakon succeeds and throws the world into chaos, the old ways might return. Humans will be so fearful that they will look to the supernatural for answers. Perhaps they will even worship us again.”

  Shit. I had not been anticipating this.

  Varemar leaned forward. “So you can see why we are not overly concerned with preventing Drakon from achieving his goals.”

  “Does that mean you won’t allow me to pass?” My heart thundered in my ears.

  Varemar sighed, and a gust of snowy wind blew past my cheeks. “That will be up to you. We will allow you to prove your worthiness. If you pass, you may go through. After that, you may enter Svalbard at your will, transporting wherever you like on the island. If you fail to cross—well, it won’t matter. You’ll be dead.”

  I wanted to give her a sarcastic thumbs-up. Instead, I just nodded. Worthiness tests were old hat to me now. Bring on the monsters and the acid lakes.

  Varemar stood and pointed in front of her. The ground groaned and cracked, opening right in front of my feet, revealing a deep crevasse into nothing. The icy chasm gleamed a deep, dark blue.

  I stepped back, my breath short.

  “You will walk across that,” Varemar said.

  It was easily twenty feet across. There was no bridge. I’d have to conjure one.

  “No magic,” Varemar said.

  “What?” Ares barked.

  “No magic. It’s a test of worthiness.”

  I held out a hand, cutting off Ares’s next words. “So you’re suggesting that I walk across thin air on nothing but my own worthiness?”

  “Precisely.” Varemar’s voice was cold.

  It was a good thing I couldn’t see her expression through her ethereal form. I didn’t think I’d like it.

  Ares caught my eye. “Don’t do it.”

  I could read the message he didn’t say. We’d find another way.

  But we wouldn’t. Couldn’t he feel the magic here? This was the land of the primordial ice gods. Without their permission, there was no other way through.

  I shot him a brief look, hoping it gave him faith, then turned to the primordial gods. “All I have to do is walk across, right? No magic. Just step onto nothing?”

  The three nodded.

  I rubbed my hands together. “All right, then. Let’s do it.”

  From behind, I could feel my friends’ dismay.

  I didn’t share it.

  Yes, I could go plunging down a thousand foot crevasse. But I wouldn’t.

  I was the one who would defeat Drakon. This was my purpose. The reason I’d been born. No matter what it took—I would be victorious. I would save the world. Because I wouldn’t settle for anything less. I was the hero of the gods, chosen by fate, and christened by the Valkyrie and Athena.

  Watch out, Hercules.

  Chapter Nine

  My head went completely silent as I stepped off the ledge, straight into thin air. My heart lodged in my throat, but my mind was calm.

  I was worthy. I would pass this test.

  My foot landed on solid ice. A narrow pillar had shot up from the crevice below, creating a stepping stone for me. I stepped forward again. Another appeared.

  I grinned.

  Then strode across, the ice rising to meet my every step.

  Isedor grumbled, his icy face scowling. He clearly didn’t want me to succeed.

  Tough cookies, ice grump. I stepped onto the ledge on the other side.

  Varemar inclined her head. “You have passed, Phoenix Knight.”

  “That does not mean that you will succeed,” Isedor grumbled. “Or even reach the mountain of dragons.”

  Ain’t that the truth. I also wouldn’t necessarily survive the encounter with Drakon. But I was worthy of trying.

  I turned toward my friends. The crevasse was gone. They stared at me, each of their faces stark white.

  Yeah, they weren’t pleased I’d taken the risk. But I’d had to. I turned back to the ice giants.

  “Can we leave here now?” I asked.

  “Yes. Should you need to return, do not come to our door again. You are worthy, thus you and your cohort may transport at will onto Svalbard.” A swirl of snow drifted off Varemar’s ephemeral arm as she pointed to the guards who had led us here. “The Icevar will lead you out.”

  The gray-cloaked figures moved away from the side wall. Half a dozen of them moved toward the far wall.

  “Thank you.” I didn’t know what else to say to the reluctant gods, so I left it at that and joined the Icevar. My friends followed. Tension thrummed in the air as we walked.

  Cass joined me and whispered, “That was iffy.”

  “No kidding.” I glanced back, disconcerted to see the gods all still watching us. Isedor had a particularly dark gleam in his icy eyes. I shivered and turned toward the shadow ones. “Can we go?”

  They stalked away, so we followed, walking toward the large doors on the back wall. They swung open of their own volition, revealing an icy courtyard at the back of the castle. Shadows lurked in the corners, a precursor to the threat we’d face outside these walls.

  Ares stepped up beside me, his eyes searching for danger.

  Wind bit at my cheeks as we stepped outside. The Icevar led us through the wide open courtyard to another large gate. Slowly, it creaked open, revealing a narrow passage bordered on two sides by towering walls of ice. They stretched so far up into the dark sky that I couldn’t see the top.

  “Oh, shit,” Del muttered.

  “No kidding.” I shuddered, my claustrophobia kicking into high gear.

  The Icevar stepped out into the chasm. I followed, Ares behind me, with Del and Cass behind him. I glanced over my shoulder. Bree and Ana were last, with everyone el
se in the middle.

  An ominous weight settled on the air as we followed the Icevar through the chasm. The ice walls loomed high on either side. I swallowed hard, tension tightening my muscles.

  “I feel trapped,” Cass muttered from behind me.

  “Ditto.”

  The Icevar stalked along, leading us through the dark night. I wished we’d go faster—put any distance between us and the primordial gods. Just the memory of them gave me the willies.

  When thundering footsteps sounded from behind us, my heart leapt into my throat.

  I spun, peering back into the blackness. Everyone else did the same. The footsteps pounded closer.

  “Giant,” Ares said.

  He was right. That was the only thing that could have such pounding footsteps. The ground shook with every footfall, chips of ice raining down from the walls.

  If one of the gods had changed their minds about letting us pass, we couldn’t fight them. My skin chilled.

  “Run!” I cried.

  Right before I turned, I caught sight of Isedor, his icy, angular form hurtling through the chasm, straight at us.

  Oh shit. He’d been the meanest one.

  I sprinted across the ice, suddenly realizing that the Icevar had disappeared. When the first massive bolt of ice plowed into the ground in front of me, I realized why.

  They didn’t want to be caught by Isedor’s weapons.

  I raced, my lungs burning. My friends’ footsteps pounded behind me as we sprinted away from the immortal ice giant. Icicles slammed into the ground all around us. I kept glancing back, trying to get a feel for where they might land. I ducked and dodged, along with my friends.

  We didn’t really have the power to fight a primordial god who was also a giant. But he was gaining on us.

  Running wasn’t working.

  He was only fifty yards away now.

  Something hard and heavy slammed into my arm. I crashed to the ground as a massive icicle plowed into the ice next to me. Pain surged through my arm as I scrambled up.

  Mordaca was down, too, but climbing to her feet.