A Poison Dark and Drowning (Kingdom on Fire #2)(56)

Callax stomped his foot and charged. He was a wall of muscle and cold fury.

If this didn’t work…It had to.

Dee ripped the flute out of its muting sheath and played, just as Mickelmas had instructed. I heard nothing, but this time the effect was instantaneous. Callax wailed and shook his head like a dog ridding itself of water. Shoving fingers in his pointed ears, he roared in pain.

Blackwood and Magnus dashed forward and, twisting their swords, dug into Callax. Blackwood caught the giant’s left leg directly at the knee. Magnus dared higher, leaping into the wind and delivering an upward twisting blow into Callax’s side.

They were good, but not good enough; the weapons hadn’t broken skin. Dee’s fingers slipped on the flute, and for a split second the instrument screamed once more. We all cried out, but Callax was glad for the respite and lifted his fist to mash Magnus into the ground.

Dee took up the tune again, giving Magnus just enough time to roll away, and Blackwood ducked as well.

So far, this was going according to the rough plan we’d mapped out. Dee was to incapacitate the monster while Blackwood and Magnus and I got in shots whenever we could. It wasn’t much of a plan, I admitted, but it was better than nothing. At the very least, it would slow Callax until the others flooded over the barrier to help.

Where were the others?

I flew toward Callax. Swinging the whip over my head, I struck the Child Eater’s face. He bellowed as a gash appeared on his forehead and blood poured from the wound. I’d got him, even a little. Magnus attacked again but still couldn’t break the beast’s skin. I tried the whip once more but missed, my wrist twisting at the wrong angle. Falling to the earth, I cursed as I struggled to catch breath.

We hadn’t been in the fight that long, and already I could feel myself growing sluggish. Dee had stopped playing, and my vision was dangerously close to tilting. No. We can’t be ill. We’re not finished yet.

“Dee, give me the flute!” I cried. He began to hand it over, but we were too slow and dropped it. When it struck the ground, it emitted another ear-rattling shriek. The bright bubbles of the ward vanished as the warders dropped their defenses, shocked by the noise. Callax snarled. With him this close to the barrier, there wouldn’t be enough time to get the shields back up.

I pulled the whistle out of my collar, not sure what the hell I expected, and blew. Again, no noise.

But Callax halted. His broad, terrible arms fell limp at his sides. His expression slackened, his pupils dilated. His face was blank with astonishment.

What the devil? I tried to “play” a tune, touching the holes along the instrument. Callax winced at some of my playing, then grew calm again at other notes. He took one step, then another toward me.

The beast was following me like a pet.

Magnus took the opportunity and stabbed his sword into the monster. This time Callax bled, droplets running down the creature’s side and raining onto the ground. Callax howled in pain but didn’t try to fight back. He watched me, still captivated by the bone whistle’s music.

“Keep playing!” Blackwood raced forward with one of the daggers in his hand, and with a cry, stabbed upward into Callax’s hide. The beast fell to his knees, bellowing in pain.

If he hadn’t been responsible for so many deaths, I would have felt sorry for the creature.

Sorcerers began to arrive at our side, leaping over the barrier and forming a colossal tunnel of wind. My skirts whipped about, and my hair was ripped from its chignon. Callax flattened himself further as Magnus and Blackwood took turns sticking him, blood staining their sleeves up to the elbow.

It didn’t seem right, somehow.

Blackwood moved faster than the others. He was absorbed in the task, his expression mixing rage and delight. Droplets of blood spattered his face and ran down his chin. Still blowing on the whistle with my right hand, I approached the monster as well, a ball of fire held aloft in my left hand.

Callax looked up at me. His huge eyes were filled with pain, and he whimpered like an animal brought low in a snare.

Horrified, I stopped blowing the whistle.

“What are you doing?” Blackwood shouted. “Keep playing!”

But I’d already given Callax the time he needed, and the Ancient rose to his feet, black blood gushing in rivulets down his body. He stared down at the sorcerers as they attacked. Nets of fire sizzled his wounded flesh. Shards of ice sliced him. Wild bursts of wind and rain battered him. Keening, Callax lurched forward and ran.

He fled from us.

We chased him until he picked up speed and moved beyond our range. Two squadrons pursued, though I doubted they’d bring him down today. If only I’d hung on longer with my whistle, we could have finished another Ancient. I’d been foolish to show mercy, especially as he’d have shown me none.

Still, Strangewayes’s weapons had shortened the fight. They had—no, we had kept it from being a massacre. We’d kept R’hlem from a great victory indeed.

Blackwood picked up a stone and threw it after the giant’s retreating form, such a boyish gesture, and so unusual for him. He came to me, wild with delight. “Did you see it? I wounded a bloody, blasted Ancient!” He held out his hands, stained with the giant’s blood.

Magnus and Dee whooped, shoving each other in the particular way of men who’ve done a good job. And Blackwood rushed to join in, crashing into the others. For the first time since I’d known him, he’d shoved the invisible cloak of responsibility off his shoulders. The boys welcomed him, pounding him on the shoulder as he yelled in triumph. Rain began to rinse the blood from his skin.