We crouched, huddled together on the edge of the ridge, Steed and Chevelle in front of me, Anvil and Rider at my sides. Grey had disappeared. We blocked every shard we could, but they were razors, cutting the air with no more than a whisper of sound until they pierced the earth around us. Steed flinched as one caught his arm, and I saw another connect with Rider. Blood dampened my cheek an instant before I felt the blade thin shard brush against it.
Sian raised his arms to the sky and the ice turned to daggers, great crystal spikes in the form of a hailstorm. Anvil was knocked back as a spear took him in the shoulder and then Steed faltered as one planted deep into his leg. Chevelle cursed as he tried to pick up the momentary lapse in our shield.
A solid thump rang through my bones before my ears picked up the zzzshk of a too-close shard and I looked down to find a spear of ice lodged in the side of my chest.
A squeal of delight erupted from the dark fey elf and I glanced up in time to see him dancing in triumph. Numbly, I watched as he spun to a stop and smiled back at me. The ice had stopped too, and the others fell slightly away as they turned to see what had his attention.
Chevelle had gone white. He reached up as if to touch the blade but stopped, instead staring into my eyes. I became very aware of our surroundings, the sudden silence amplifying the chaos. The ridge was destroyed. My guard lay bleeding around me.
Sian would overtake us. Any strike against him would be not only be useless, it would be returned tenfold.
We were hurt. Hopeless.
Finn and Keaton howled from somewhere among the pines.
And then I saw it, there in Chevelle’s sapphire eyes. He hadn’t given up.
Suddenly, a jolt ran through me. Chevelle hadn’t left the blade in my chest because there was no chance. He had left it because I was still breathing. The ice hadn’t pierced my lung, but was embedded in the muscle between my chest and shoulder joint. My leather would hold it there, keeping me from further damage, and it wasn’t poisoned.
It was, however, the only thing keeping Sian from continuing the attack.
I kept my face slack, letting him think it was shock as my eyes took in the scene. It would be a brief reprieve, regardless, but there had to be some way, some thing we could do to fight him.
There was the barest sound from the base of the ridge behind us, some small shifting of stone, and then abruptly a large grey wolf stood beside us. Keaton had bounded onto the demolished earth of the ridge, paws clattering the sharpened ice against stone, and growled viciously toward Sian.
His muzzle was still pulled back in a snarl when he turned to us, but his eyes shone bright. The wolf looked first at Rider, then me. When he was certain he had my attention, he moved his gaze slowly to Chevelle.
I couldn’t say how long it took for the message to sink in, but when Keaton finally got through, I nodded. I reached forward to clasp Chevelle’s hand.
“The power,” I whispered, “hold it for me.”
His eyes never left my face as I directed the energy to release. I could feel the line as it stretched within me, as it fell to Chevelle, and as it ran free to its target.
The impact threw Sian off his feet to land soundly in the ash behind him. A puff of dust rose from the destroyed trees and then settled around him as he writhed and moaned. He struggled to control the power, but as he wrapped himself fully around it, the energy would not work free. He let out a high-pitched keen and then his neck snapped up to look at us.
There was no way he could tell, no possibility he would understand, but Sian knew something had changed. He fought to his knees, twitching and jerking, and tried to center his focus.
He pulled harder against it, struggling to wrench the energy free, but it only stretched thinner. Through our connection, I could feel Chevelle now as he anchored the power. I’d had no control over Asher’s power alone, but it was steady now fastened within our bond. And our target was growing weaker.
My mouth pulled up in a smile and Sian realized he was no longer assured victory. His face fell, and then his eyes moved along the ridge. I followed his stare to find Junnie, bow raised and drawn in readiness. There was a sharp screech, the call of a bird, and she loosed the arrow.
Junnie didn’t wait for it to hit the mark, but jerked her head toward the clearing.
Rowan stood opposite us, watching with horror as the events unfolded. He couldn’t see the figure slip up behind him, nor the blade, too quick, that sliced his throat. Rowan’s hand came up automatically, and blood flooded through his fingers.
When he fell, Grey stood behind him.
Chapter Twenty-five
New Beginnings
I stared blankly at Grey’s lithe form, watching as he drew the dagger across his leg to clear the blade.
“Freya,” Chevelle whispered, sliding his hand up to cradle my face, my neck.
My eyes met his and his hand continued to my shoulder, where he squeezed, and I suddenly realized he was bracing me. There was a bit of a choking gasp that escaped my throat when Steed pulled the shard free, and then Junnie was there, closing up the wound.
I blinked, staring up at her, and she smiled in greeting. “Freya.”
A long breath fell from me and I sagged a little as the tension dissipated. We had done it.