Frostblood (Frostblood Saga #1)(52)

The beast came into view, a lighter shadow in the tunnel beyond the gate. Its body was shaggy and thick with a dirty, ragged coat that might once have been white but was now a muddy gray. Here and there, tufts of matted fur formed ridges that stuck out at odd angles. Its nose traced the floor, its humped back reaching halfway to the ceiling, each padded foot leaving an oval of sparkling ice in its wake. It sniffed and shuffled, following an invisible line of scent to the spot where I had just stood, then lifted its huge head and looked around.

I wasn’t high enough on the wall, not nearly. Even the ceiling wouldn’t be out of its reach. A long arm with razorlike claws took a tentative swipe in my direction.

A rough chuckle came from above my head.

“I warned you about its arms,” said the guard cheerily.

“Shut up,” I snarled, pushing off the wall with my feet while holding the chain and flying toward the beast’s outstretched paw. It was like kicking a boulder. I yelped and fell to the ground, rolling out of reach.

The beast turned and lumbered after me, huge and slow but determined, plumes of frost curling from its open mouth. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to get momentum or to take a breath of rest. I backed toward the open gate.

The guard’s voice came down again. “There’s nothing back there unless you fancy a pile of bones.”

I believed him. There would be no way out.

I laid a wall of sizzling flame around myself. The beast reared back onto its hind legs, its loud exhalations mixed with my own jagged breathing. But the cold stone floor put out the fire. If I didn’t wrest some control back from the wild fear, I would be dead.

I connected with the concentric rings of heat around my heart, pulling it forward into my hands, and sent a spiral of flame at the beast’s chest. The flame sizzled off bits of ice that clung to the animal’s fur. The beast kept coming. I threw a handful of fire at its face, catching it on the nose. It roared in pain and shook its massive head a few times before fixing its eyes on me again.

“You don’t want to eat me,” I said softly. “I would bubble and boil in your stomach and make you hurt. You don’t want me.”

It cocked its giant head.

“I’m a poor meal. All skin and bone. I would catch in your throat and choke you. I would burn your throat.”

It moved slowly now, stopping to listen every time I spoke. If I could just get it near its lair, maybe I could use my fire to drive it back and pull the gate closed. I walked toward the gate, talking the whole time, the beast slowly following me.

“Aw, this isn’t any fun,” said one of the guards.

“What do you think we should do?” said the other. “Throw water down on her?”

I kept my eyes on the beast, my heart pounding, and threw an arrow of fire upward at the grate.

The guard yelped. “Well, she doesn’t seem to want to play with us. We’d better let her get some rest. She’ll feel better in the morning. Good night, Firefilth.”

I heard something sliding as the room dimmed. The guard was covering the opening, my only source of light, with a board.

“No, please!” I screamed, all determination not to show weakness wiped away by dread.

A muffled laugh echoed as the board scraped into place. The room was black and silent but for the breathing of the beast in the dark.

My heart raced. My breath came in gasps. A scream built at the back of my throat. I jammed my fist against my mouth.

Stop. Think. Remember your training.

I took a breath and tried to find the quiet place in my mind. I calmed a little and remembered something that could help me: the beast was a thing of frost. I could sense its cold.

I’d spent hours practicing this while wearing a blindfold. And the beast wasn’t as silent as Arcus had been. I had two senses to help me.

The thing was sniffing the floor. I could hear its nose scraping the stone as it came closer. I sensed its frost, felt its cold breath on my face as it opened its mouth.

I dove out of the way, feeling it brush past me as I rolled on the floor and came to my feet. A draft brushed against my back. That must be the tunnel to the beast’s lair. I didn’t want to back myself in there. I moved away from it, my hands out.

Sniffing. Cold breath.

I threw myself to the right as a breeze from the leaping creature brushed past, my hand slapping the wall. Cold to my left. I moved along the wall to the right, sliding my hands along the stone. I paused, my senses on alert, and realized the sniffing had stopped. It was silent. The beast couldn’t be smart enough to realize I could hear it. Could it?

A rush of cold built in front of me. I threw myself to the side, but not fast enough. A blade-sharp claw sliced my leg, cleaving a gash into my calf. I sucked in a breath and kept scuttling to the right. The beast sniffed and roared, clearly excited by the smell of my blood.

I sensed it was a few feet away to my right, coming closer. I moved quietly, slowly, but it moved with me. I raged silently against the blood dripping from my calf. The beast could smell me now, no matter where I moved.

Arcus had told me to be aware of my surroundings, to use them to my advantage. Where were those blasted chains? Maybe I could use them as a weapon, catch the beast in the eye.

I moved along the wall, stopping when I came to the drafty tunnel. If I crossed that point when the creature came at me, I might be driven back into that hopeless space. I hovered, unsure what to do.