Daggers of Ice

Chapter 40

Where the Western Woods meet the Mountains.

Peter.

Peter panted, his heart heavy as yet another fell.

The remains of the building were crumbling about them, scorched and smoking.

With Faelar at his back, they fought together. Another tremor rumbled through the ground.

He shifted to the side as an arrow tore past his ear. From such a short range, there had been no hope for the man that Susan would miss. The arrow pierced through his jugular, ripping through muscle and tendon to appear through the other side of his spine. Susan at least delivered a swift death.

Faelar, the right hand man of the Ice Queen, fought with such alacrity that Peter was taken aback. But glancing at him from the corner of his eye as he met the sword of another, he saw that he was attempting to keep the crimson-eyed warriors away from Lucy.

He did not dwell however as another warrior came at him, with a head on rush, pausing the moment before he swung his sword – as if a thought had suddenly occurred to him, blinking his crimson eyes rapidly.

But Peter did not pause as the warrior attacking him faltered, he ran him through.

She did not pause as the warrior attacking her faltered, she ran him through. He watched as the shadows passed over his features, over his nose that was out of joint, his mouth opening slightly as he stumbled backwards. Fear flashed through his crimson eyes. A fear which had been absent before. A fear of dying.

Something had changed.

The air was still, wrought with tension. Asura's heavy panting reached her ears, but it was not that which caused his eyes to widen.

Those eyes which had been crimson but a moment before had turned a dull, muddy brown.

"Corradyn's followers," Lucy said softly, and he became aware of the sudden hush which had fallen over them. "Some of them are no longer attacking."

Edmund and Arianna had succeeded...

Then why, oh why, did something feel terribly wrong?

...

Lucy.

Lucy watched; numb, unable to look away as Edmund emerged from the castle, a limp form in his arms. The white cloak fluttered behind him like a wraith. He cradled her to his chest, his arms encircling the small form gently. She watched as his lips moved, speaking words to soft or any of them to hear. But his expression said it all, the raw emotion on his face, his tight grip on her. He would not let her go, he couldn't.

The northmen fell to their knees, one by one as he passed. Their fallen queen in his arms.

The world seemed to move in slow motion, no one else moved, staring. Even the sounds of the fighting in the city seemed to have disappeared. There was no clashing of weapons in the distance, no screams of pain.

Arianna was gone.

Lucy was frozen; she didn't even notice as the tears slid from her own face. Edmund held Arianna's body closer, burying his face in the crook of her shoulder.

"Don't leave," his hoarse whisper reached her, burning with fervour. "I need you." His voice sounded small, pressed in on all sides by the expansive silence. Strong, grounded Edmund. He shook like a leaf tossed in the wind as his emotions overcame him.