FROST- Jotun Chronicles #1

An End of Sorts

Anger drove me forward. All around me I could hear snarls and shrieks. The wolves had finally reached the center of the battle field, ripping into the oncoming frost soldiers. Luckily this left me a clear path to the Queen. Her soldiers fell with blood curling screams, or leapt forward to meet the huge black wolves, leaving their Queen. She didn’t even notice, her eyes were fixed on mine. It was as if the rest of the battle field melted away, leaving us facing off. There was only her, and each long stride took me closer. My heart was in my throat, and I realized the rage was mixed with fear. Yes, I was still scared, but I was also fueled by anger, by death, by determination. 

Finally we closed the distance, and there were only a few feet between us now. If I stepped closer I could reach out and touch her. Her eyes skimmed over me and a shadow passed over her face. Anger? Fear? What did she see when she looked at me?

“I see you wear the crown of a royal,” her voice was low, trembling with anger, “you wish to take my place. You wish to strike me down and take my throne.”

“I never wanted that,” I said sharply, “Never. You did that. You drove your people to it.”

For a fraction of a second her face softened and her voice trembled, “Amora…I don’t want this…”

My fingers tingled; the guiding memories of Amora were urging me to leap at her. To lash out at her. To my surprise I found myself spitting out words that weren’t exactly mine, involuntary words.

“It’s too late for regrets, mother.”

The Queen’s eyes snapped open wide, and then I was moving, launching myself at her. An angry scream ripped from my throat, a frightening animal noise. Was I making it? I had no time to think about it, because the Queen had raised her sword and met mine, and the crash of steel filled my ears, my arms shook with effort, but I drove forward, knocking her backwards a few steps. My heart was beating wildly, and not because I was facing the Queen. It was because I had no control over my own body anymore. Before, Amora had been merely a guide, instincts that helped me in battle, but now…now I couldn’t stop myself. I launched myself at the Queen again and again, like some sort of warrior puppet. Someone else was working the strings. Part of me was relieved, because there was no way I could bring her down by myself, but the feeling of being taken over was utterly terrifying.  Eira’s eyes had grown wide and her face was pale as I drove her backwards. She knew it wasn’t really me anymore. She knew she was facing Amora, the daughter she had murdered.  Another crashing blow, and my katana was inches away from her throat, the Queen’s arms trembled, pushing me back. Her face hardened, the marble-like mask slamming back down. She was cold and unfeeling again.

All around us the sounds of battle raged.  The snarl of the wolves and the screams of the dying. I tried to block out the noise, tried to concentrate on the rhythm of the fight. Tried to figure out what Amora was going to do next. Eira’s face twisted in rage as she shoved me back hard, and I stumbled backwards, my heel striking a rock painfully.  For a moment Amora’s control was gone, and I fell backwards, my back hitting the ground hard. Stars burst in front of me, all I could see was little bursts of light. Panic jolted through me when I realized I couldn’t drag air back into my lungs. I coughed and retched, and then Amora was back and my limbs were no longer my own. My arms went up, holding the sword across my body. Something came down on the blade, and I grunted with the effort, the muscles in my arms protesting. The Queen loomed over me, a smile twisting her lips. My leg shot up and my boot made contact, sending her flying backwards. She hit the ground with a grunt and scrambled to her feet with an enraged scream. Her sword was still on the ground by her feet, and I was confused for a second as she came at me with outstretched hands. Then horror washed through me as I realized what she was doing.