Awakenings

A potent curse dropped from Phelan’s lips as he watched, wide-eyed, as Matt and Thom clambered up onto the lindworm’s back even as the behemoth snaked toward Sif, leaving shattered ice in its wake. “What the hell is she thinking?”

“I don’t know,” Marin said, calmly drawing another arrow and watching the worm as it raced toward its new target. “I have to trust she knows what she’s doing. Do you know what you’re doing?”

Phelan swore again and turned his attention back to Thordin, not for the first time thinking that maybe, just maybe, he should have recruited his lover or J.T. to accompany them.

Jac’s going to be pissed as hell when we get back. He shrugged free of his cloak and wrapped it around Thordin, ignoring the fact that his friend was dishrag-limp and disturbingly still. He was still breathing, and that was the only thing that mattered.

The lindworm bellowed again and Phelan winced, not daring to look up toward the creature as he studied the damage it had already done to Thordin. Blood soaked the warrior’s parka and jeans, a gash on the side of his face similar to the one Matt had sustained bled briskly even with Phelan’s hand pressed hard against it.

“We need to get him back to camp,” Phelan muttered, digging through his satchel one-handedly. “And this fight needs to end fast because I can’t tend him and hold his face together at the same time.” He’s bleeding bloody well everywhere. Dammit.

“I’d help with that, but you told me that I’d damned well better cover you.”

“I sure as hell don’t want you to stop, either,” Phelan said, pulling a vial out of his bag. He glanced at it, then at Thordin’s face, then back to the vial.

It’ll have to do.

“What are you—is that glue?”

“Near enough to,” Phelan said as he carefully applied the contents of the vial to Thordin’s face, temporarily putting a seal on the bloody wound. “It won’t hold forever, but it’s going to buy us time.” Time for me to look at everything else. Time to figure out what kind of havoc that venom’s starting to wreak.

Time enough for Sif to kill the gods-be-damned thing before it circles back to finish the job it already started with Thordin.

Matt’s blade struck a glancing blow against the beast’s hide, but it didn’t stop coming. Thom swore and adjusted his grip. A slash wouldn’t work, but maybe stabbing would do the trick. He couldn’t think about Marin and Phelan now, except that he needed to keep the damned thing away from them. He had to make sure he didn’t sway the thing toward Matt, make sure that his brother-in-law didn’t skewer him, but other than that, it was nothing but him, his sword, and the monster crashing through the ice.

Then he was on top of it, the point of his blade aimed at a split in its scales, even as it twisted toward Phelan and Marin and Thordin’s too-still form, rearing back to spit more venom.

Thom’s sword sunk deep between the scales. The lindworm roared, jerking back, its eyes huge and seeking the source of its pain. Thom jerked his sword free, the creature’s hot, dark blood oozing from the wound. He fell back a few steps, breathing hard.

That was probably not the smartest thing I’ve ever done.

“Move, Thomas!”

He jerked at the sound of Sif’s voice, spinning just as an arrow caught the lindworm in the soft flesh below its eye. The creature howled, turning its attention toward her as the latest and greatest threat.

“Get behind it!” Sif shouted. “On its back!”

Thom eyed the creature as it plowed past him across the ice, heading unerringly toward Sif.

Gods help me.

He threw himself toward its flank, catching hold of a scale and scrambling up onto lindworm’s powerfully muscled back. Matt scrambled up its flank on the opposite side, swearing.

“Stab down and don’t stop until it stops moving!” Sif calmly launched another arrow at the lindworm.

Thom smiled to himself. “I can do that.”

Bracing himself, he angled his blade toward the lindworm’s spine and drove it down with all his strength.

Thordin’s axe bit deep into the lindworm’s neck, as the creature’s jaws closed on him. It slammed him into the ground once, twice, then flung him sideways, like a dog worrying a piece of meat, roaring in pain as it tried to dislodge the offending weapon from its scales.

“Dammit!” Thom spared a momentary glance toward his brother-in-law. “Come on!”

Matt was already moving, his weapon raised as he charged across the ice.

Dammit, it’s too late. He’s already dead. Pain gripped Thom’s heart, pain beyond physical. They shouldn’t have listened. This wasn’t a fight that Thordin should have faced alone.

He dashed across the ice after Matt.

Two arrows abruptly buried themselves in the flesh beneath the monster’s eye.

Marin! Thom skidded to a halt a dozen yards from the monster and turned, seeking his wife. There she was, throwing herself from the saddle as Sif, similarly armed with a bow, ran forward toward the creature.

“You can’t have him!” Sif howled. “He’s mine!”

The lindworm cast Thordin’s limp, bloody body to the side and focused on the wrathful blonde. Thordin skidded across the ice, a trail of blood smearing the surface of the lake. Phelan ran for him, Marin notching another arrow and firing to cover his run.

The lindworm ignored the arrow that pinged off its scales and launched itself right at Sif.

Teeth bared in a feral grin, Sif cast aside her bow and drew her broadsword.

“That’s it, you overgrown serpent! Come and get me. You want to eat him, you have to deal with me!”

For the briefest of moments, Thom wished that her words didn’t feel almost normal these days.

“Thom, help Matt!” Marin yelled as she dashed after Phelan, readying another arrow.

Thom’s gaze darted toward the lindworm’s flank to see Matt quickly approaching the creature’s bulk, his blade upraised and ready to strike.

We’re all going to get ourselves killed and it’s not even a goddamned dragon, is it?

Snarling a battlecry of his own, Thom plunged toward the lindworm, deciding it didn’t matter what it was anyway—it was trying to kill them, so all they could hope to do was kill it first.

Its flesh was the color of the lake when it shimmered in the autumn sunshine, its eyes huge and ice-blue, cold like the depths of winter. It was huge, its mouth full of dagger-shaped teeth that he knew had to be sharper than razors.

After all, the worm that had spawned it had teeth that were the same.

First blood will be to me. It has to know that.

It spotted him as he dashed across the ice, his footing as certain as ever, as if he was running on dirt. He had a knack for running on ice—he always had. The worm roared at him in challenge, its huge eyes narrowing an instant before it spat venom in his direction.

Thordin swore and threw himself flat against the ice, skidding several feet across its surface as the venom spattered the frozen lake a few feet behind him. His stomach heaved.

That’s a new trick.

That was when he realized his battleax was no longer in his hand.

Shit.

His eyes roamed, searching the ice for the fallen weapon. There, maybe two feet away, beyond the reach of his outstretched arm.

The worm bellowed again. Thom and Matt were shouting at him to get up, to move.

“Stay where you are!” he shouted back.

He rolled to the side, intending to come to his feet. More venom spattered the ice.

Thank the powers that be that this thing has terrible aim. He glanced up toward the beast, ice crunching as the giant, snake-shaped creature heaved itself up onto the surface of the frozen lake, moving toward him faster than it should have been able to.

Not good!

His hand closed around the haft of his ax.

What the hell did its sire—

Its shadow crossed over him. Thordin threw himself onto his back, swinging his weapon at the lindworm’s throat as its toothy maw descended, teeth flashing in the afternoon sun.

His world went black.

The smile faded as he shucked off one of his gloves. It was time—time to stop waiting, time to face the thing that had come for him. One of his knuckles had split that morning while he’d been chopping wood. A little blood would do the trick, would end this waiting game.

If I’m right about what this thing is, anyway. He exhaled and walked out onto the ice.

“What are you doing?” Matt called after him.

“It’ll smell me,” Thordin said, crouching down. The ice near the shore was thick, but that was because the water had been shallow. He scraped his split knuckle against the ice’s surface, knowing that it wouldn’t take long for the scent to travel, even across the ice, through the ice. He straightened slowly, pulling his glove back on. “You two stay back.”

“We came here to help you, idiot,” Thom said.

“You don’t know what we’re dealing with,” Thordin fired back. “Stay where you are so you don’t get hurt. Marin wouldn’t forgive me if you two got hurt.” I wouldn’t forgive myself.

Damn. This must be what Phelan feels like every damned day of his life.

“This is insane,” Thom said.

“Insane was you following me,” Thordin fired back, adjusting his grip on his battleax. This wasn’t going to be clean or pretty, but these things never were. “You should have stayed in camp.”

“Wouldn’t happen,” Matt said.

“Just stay back,” Thordin growled, glaring over his shoulder at them, his heart starting to beat a little faster. He could feel something, something not quite right. It was coming; the worm was coming. It had caught his scent, just as he’d planned. “I can handle this.”

And if I can’t, then I trust you all to finish what I started.

The ice beneath his feet began to quake and he smiled grimly.

Ice cracked, sounding like a gunshot in the still, cold air.

Two dozen yards ahead, the lindworm erupted from the ice with a roar.

Thordin rushed headlong toward it, howling a battlecry unheard since the days of old.

“So what exactly are we dealing with here?” Thom asked as he reined up to Thordin’s left. He seemed blithely unconcerned with how close he and his horse were to the edge of the ice, how near they could be to certain death.

Of course, he doesn’t exactly know what’s out there, does he?

Let’s be honest—you’re not sure, either, but you’re more than half certain.

Thordin exhaled. “I’m not explaining this again.”

“Again?” Matt glared at him. “You barely explained the first time.”

“It’s a monster,” Thordin said, determined to leave it at that.

Thom eyed him as he swung down from his saddle. “Another one? Par for the course, right?” He was carrying his sword, no ranged weapons in sight.

For the first time since he’d marched out of camp, Thordin actually wished that Sif and Marin were with them. At least then they’d have some ranged weapons at their disposal.

What the hell am I thinking? This is the last place I’d want either of them to be, bows or not.

“He’s being mildly impossible,” Matt said.

Thom shrugged. “Someone will straighten this all out, and Phelan will probably tell us what we’re dealing with when he gets here.”

Thordin barely managed to stifle a groan. “You didn’t.”

“Be glad I didn’t find Cameron and Seamus, too,” Thom said, glaring at him. “We don’t fight shit like this alone—whatever it is.”

“It’s not after any of you,” Thordin said, knowing that this was an argument he was about to lose. “It’s after me.”

“That argument didn’t work when Phelan tried to use it and it’s not going to work now.” Thom’s blade rasped free of its sheathe. “Nobody fights alone.”

As much as he hated the idea of the rest of them being endangered because of him, Thordin couldn’t help but smile.

The sound of hoofbeats behind them made Thordin curse and twist, peering out across the snow as the sun sank slowly down toward the western shores of the lake. “Bloody fragging hell, Matt. Who else was coming?”

“That’d be Thom, probably,” Matt predicted. “Either he didn’t find Phelan and gave up, or Phelan went to find someone or something else before he joined us. Either way, I really don’t think they’d let Phelan come alone.”

Likely not. If there’s one thing that would make this go from bad to worse, it would be him showing up here unescorted.

He turned back toward the ice, squinting against the sun. Darkness would come all too quickly and that would make the fighting harder, more dangerous.

Powers that be and were, don’t let me get them killed. That’s all I ask. Take me instead. I’m ready for it.

A sharp ache in his chest told him that he was lying to himself. There were too many things unfinished, too many loose ends. He wasn’t ready.

But no one ever was.

His lips thinned and he strained to see any sign of cracking ice, of movement in the depths beneath the frozen slabs. He hoped they wouldn’t be able to find her, that she wouldn’t come. She’d chide him—no, more than chide, she’d lecture him—about what he planned to do, about trying to face it alone.

Facing one nearly killed you the first time. What makes you think you’ll be as lucky the second time?

This one’s probably smaller.

He couldn’t stop the smile. Matt looked at him funny.

“Are you okay?”

“No,” Thordin said softly. “No, and I never was. I just pretend.”

We all pretend, almost all the time. We pretend that all is well.

Maybe someday the lie we tell ourselves will actually become the truth.

His hands trembled around the haft of his battleaxe, jaw so tight it hurt his teeth. The ice was broken, perhaps a dozen yards out from where he stood closer to shore. All was quiet.

Deceptively quiet, he thought.

The worm was here for him. In the instant Vasily had begun to talk about it, he’d known what it had been like for Phelan when Vammatar had attacked, when her sisters had sent the skinwalkers after them. Everyone was in danger and it was because of him.

No wonder he walks around in some kind of cloud of guilt and depression.

“Thordin!”

He winced at the sound of Matt Astoris’s voice. “You shouldn’t be here, Matt.”

“Like hell.” The younger man’s boots crunched on snow and gravel. “You’re not facing this thing alone. I don’t care what it is.”

“It’s personal,” Thordin said, glaring at him as he came up alongside. “Go back.”

“I think I just said no.” Matt rested his hand on the pommel of the sword hanging against his hip. “Thom went to find Phelan, so you can bet they’ll be here soon enough—probably with Sif and Marin.”

Bugger me. Thordin’s jaw clenched tighter. He thought he felt a molar crack. “Damn the lot of you,” he whispered.

Matt clapped him on the shoulder. “We haven’t let Phelan face a goddamned personal vendetta alone. What makes you think you’re any different?”

“This is a monster.”

“And Vammatar wasn’t? The Hecate isn’t?”

A shiver crept down Thordin’s spine. His mouth tasted like bile. “You make a valid point,” he admitted. “But this is different. We have some vague hope of reasoning with them. This—this is different.”

“I fail to see how.”

“It’s a monster, Matthew. It kills. It eats. It doesn’t negotiate.”

“Then we kill it and move on with life.”

“I wish it was going to be that easy.”

“It can be,” Matt said, voice weighty with conviction.

Thordin shivered again and wished his friend was right.

Sif and Marin hadn’t gained too much ground on him and he caught up to the women quickly despite the pace Sif had set for them. Phelan squinted at the sky as he came into line with them, frowning.

“Either this is going to be a short fight, or we’ll be tangling with this thing after sundown,” he observed.

“Assuming they’ve found the thing,” Marin said. “We’ve got no way of knowing if it’s that close.”

“It’s that close,” Sif said. “Trust in that. The damned thing is really close.”

“How the hell are you so sure?” Marin asked, brow furrowing. “What the hell are we dealing with, anyway?”

“A nightmare come true,” Sif said. “Spawn of the serpent that would swallow the world.”

“What?”

“Thordin killed its father,” Sif continued, ignoring Marin’s question. “It was a long time ago, but these things have long memories and longer lives. It doesn’t matter if he died once already. The lindworm won’t care. It’s out for its vengeance and it won’t stop until it’s killed or it kills him.”

“We’re not going to let it kill him,” Phelan said.

“I know,” Sif said, reining in her mount for a moment, dropping back to a slower pace. Phelan overshot her by a few strides before circling back. The was a wistful, pained look in her eye. “He’s right to be angry with me, you know.”

“You did what you had to do.”

“No,” Sif said softly. “I did what was easier and told myself that it was hard. As much mischief and annoyance and trouble his brother was, Phelan, being with him wasn’t hard. Not like losing Thordin was. Not like watching him is right now. This is so, so much worse.” She sucked in a sharp breath. “I can’t lose him again, Phelan.”

“You won’t,” Phelan promised. “But we’d better hurry if we’re going to be the difference they’ll need to deal with this thing”

Sif squeezed her eyes shut and nodded, kicking her horse into a gallop once more.

“You’re going the wrong way for horses,” Phelan said mildly, fighting back a grin. Despite the gravity of the situation, he couldn’t stop the expression from blossoming. It was just too much like old times.

“Blødning drittsekk,” Sif spat, glaring at him. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Phelan said. “And I’m not the one who’s bleeding. We’ll need to deal with that before we ride.”

She snarled and stalked back toward them, snatching her blade from his hands and resheating the weapon. “Sometimes I hate you, Wanderer.”

“You and everyone else who’s ever given a damn about me.” He glanced sidelong at Marin. “You heard the lady. Horses and rescuing an idiot with a death wish.”

“I wish that was something new for me,” Marin muttered, shaking her head.

Phelan at least had the grace to look abashed.

They made quick time back to camp, even with Phelan and Marin’s efforts to bind up Sif’s bleeding hands on the way. They headed for the stable, where Davon had a trio of horses ready and waiting for them.

“Once Thom came through, I figured it was only a matter of time before you guys would be heading out,” he said as he gave Marin a leg up into the saddle.

“Good instincts,” Phelan said as he settled into his saddle, wrapping the reins around one hand.

“I like to think so. What am I telling Jac?”

“The truth,” Phelan said. “I rode out with Marin and Sif to keep Thordin from getting himself killed.”

Davon blinked, staring at them for a moment, then smiled wryly. “Right, well, I’ll tell her to have her kit ready.”

“Good idea.”

“Are you bloody well coming?” Sif snapped, already beyond the doors to their makeshift stable, her mount pawing restlessly at the snow.

Phelan waved Marin onward and leaned down toward Davon. “Tell her I’m intending to come back in one piece, but something tells me someone else won’t. She’ll need the green box under the bed. Tell her that.”

Davon nodded slowly. “Should I raise the alarm around here?”

“No. If it’s what we think it is, it won’t be able to reach us up here.”

The other man’s brow furrowed. “What do you think it is?”

Phelan exhaled through his teeth, glancing over his shoulder. Sif and Marin had ridden out; he’d have to hurry to catch up. “Judging from Sif’s reaction and the incredibly vague description from Vasily, I’m pretty sure it’s a lindworm.”

“A what?”

“Cross a sea serpent with a dragon and you might get close.” Phelan smiled weakly. “And unless I’ve missed my guess on this one, Thordin killed its daddy and it’s going to take a few bites out of him to say thank you—right before it goes back to eating whatever gets in its way.”

“That sounds pleasant.”

“Yeah.” Phelan smiled weakly. “Tell Jac one more thing for me.”

“Sure.”

“Tell her I love her.”

With that, Phelan spurred his horse into motion, riding at a gallop in Sif and Marin’s wake.