Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 125422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
The Old God rumbles, swinging a massive limb in a sweeping arc. I duck then lunge, trying to strike deeper. My sword sinks a few inches into stone and ice, meeting stubborn resistance. The creature shudders but does not fall. It whips its arm, knocking me backward. My boots skid on loose gravel, and I nearly plummet over the edge before I catch a sharp outcrop of rock.
Rasmus yells something I can’t decipher and hurls a bolt of energy. The Old God shrieks, a crackling sound like ice splitting, as part of its stony hide fractures. I see a chance, try to move forward, but the monster bucks violently as rocks rain down from the cliffs above. One strikes my helmet, knocking it off, clattering over the mountainside. Stars dance in my vision, dizziness swamping me.
Too slow. The Old God lunges, a limb of serrated ice and granite aimed for my exposed head. I’m off-balance, sword raised too late. Panic grips me as I see my death in that frozen limb.
Rasmus cries out, a desperate, wordless sound, and throws himself in front of me, sword at the ready.
But the Old God’s blow impales him cleanly through his head. My stomach lurches at the sickening crunch, the spray of blood on the stone.
“No!” I scream, voice tearing free of my throat. Rage and grief fuse into vicious strength. I hack at the creature’s arm, and this time, my blade bites deeper, fueled by fury. Something cracks. The Old God howls a splintering cry, and I strike again, shattering ice and fracturing stone. The limb falls away, twitching uselessly, and while it’s distracted, I shove the sword right into the glittery maw until red ichor sprays me, every crystal shattering at once.
The Old God staggers, wounded at last, and stumbles backward to the edge of the cliff until it gives way. Within seconds, it’s gone, falling thousands of feet down, leaving only a bitter wind and scattered shards of ice and rock. Its impact below shakes the ground, the explosion echoing off the mountainsides like a bomb.
I drop to my knees beside Rasmus, who lies crumpled by a river of his own blood. His eyes flutter weakly. I raise my trembling hand above the gaping wound—half of his scalp shaved off, blood and skull and brain exposed.
Oh gods, oh gods.
I don’t know what to do, panic throttling my chest, vomit stuck in my throat. He tries to speak, blood on his lips. I lean closer, tears flooding my vision.
“Why?” I choke out. He saved me despite everything.
His voice is ragged, almost inaudible. “You deserved better,” he manages, each word a struggle. “You’re still…my sister…still…my family.” He coughs, blood staining the stone. “I’m sorry…” he whispers, eyes distant now, gaze slipping beyond me.
“No,” I plead, terror clawing at me. “Don’t go, don’t go.”
I shake him lightly, but the life fades from him, the spark leaving his eyes. He grows still, limp in my arms.
Rasmus is gone.
Sobs wrench from my throat. The wind keens around us, as if in mourning too. I’ve lost another ally—no, a brother—here in these cold, indifferent mountains. The others, far ahead, do not know; I am alone with Rasmus’ body, the echoes of our battle, and my grief.
For a long moment, I cradle his head, tears hot on my cheeks, letting his warm blood stain me as I turn cold in the wind. It shouldn’t have ended this way. So many regrets hang in the silence.
But I must stand, must keep moving. I cannot remain here. The path is dangerous, and I must warn the others of the Old God below in case the fall didn’t kill it. I must carry this burden forward, tell them how Rasmus gave his life for mine.
With trembling hands, I close his eyes and whisper a quiet farewell. The wind scatters my words. I rise slowly, arm throbbing, soul hollow. The cliffs tower around me, impassive witnesses. I take one last look at Rasmus then turn and continue along the trail, following the distant shape of my father’s party. My steps are heavy, each one a painful reminder of what I’ve lost.
I walk on, alone and broken, tears freezing on my cheeks, determined to survive and make his sacrifice meaningful.
There’s no turning back now.
CHAPTER 32
DEATH
The redheaded bastard is gone.
One moment we were trudging forward over the serpentine ridges that make up the Iron Mountains, heads down against the wind and snow, the next Lovia was running up, pushing through the line of troops with tears streaming down her face, her shoulder bleeding, to tell me that Rasmus had died.
At first I didn’t know what to feel. Rasmus has always been a wily nuisance, a thorn in my side. He stole Hanna away from me and tried to corrupt her in the name of Louhi. He was a shifty shaman apprentice who couldn’t be trusted as far as I could throw him (though I could throw him very fucking far).