The Ice King (The Witch Ways 0.5)(28)
“I’ve waited sixty years for you to find me, Vanessa Way” he whispered, she looked up into the heterochromic eyes green as the wood, brown as the earth. She reached her fingers into his salt and pepper hair, pulling his face towards hers, his breath warm against her skin, her mouth on his, his mouth on hers.
Time slowed and stopped and twisted them together. The dome of the sky seemed to fold further outward, clouds rushed and melted, ice creaked, black feathers burst from trees and became crows, and his skin against hers was the most beautiful skin, the most known skin, her own skin before time began to chase them once more, and darkness fell.
Except it wasn’t darkness, it was the bronzed light of the Arctic and as the clouds intensified it was shimmered over with a cloak of green undulating light.
Aurora.
They had been sleeping, spooned together in a cocoon spun from tweed and twill and sleeping bag. Vanessa awoke with a start and was about to speak but Lachlan’s hand clamped over her mouth, he pressed her closer to him, an arm protective around her.
“The Wild Hunt are here.” he whispered close, he began to move out of their bunk, pulling Vanessa with him. “Time to go.”
They scuffled about in the murky light, Vanessa reaching for her backpack. As she did so the backpack was snatched from her and the darkness deepened as if the snowlight and twilight had been blanked out.
“Lachlan?” Vanessa reached into the blackness, Lachlan’s hand reached for her, rough, pulling her to him and behind him, his body a shield for hers. There was a scent in the room, the cold bite of snow. There was a striking sound, a fizz and flare of flame and the rusty flickering light of a torch bathed the room. There were five men, all patinaed with dirt, their shoulders sheltered beneath animal skins, the light burnished the swords at their belts. One stepped forward; he was vast, to Vanessa it was like looking up into an oak, his shoulders a broad hulk of bone, a polar bears claws reached for each other across his chest, its shed skin shielding him against the snow. The smell of bear grease created a kind of olfactory force field around him.
“Hearts will clash, Lachlan Laidlaw, bones will break.”
Vanessa gasped at the sight of the dark inky tattoos of runic symbols that ran up into the man’s hairline. The man grinned.
“Here is where the Wild Hunt end you.” his mouth snarled and he reached a swift hand towards Lachlan, the fist clenching at his shoulder as he pushed him down to his knees.
“On your knees, Lachlan Laidlaw. Beg for mercy before last of the Ice Kings, the Lord of Winter’s Night. For you, at last, there is no time.”
The man’s face split into a grin so wide Vanessa thought his head would split open. Lachlan, crouching, made a swift forwards movement and there was a metallic, swishing sound. In a second he was up on his haunches, his arms straining under the weight of the Ice King’s broadsword. There was the hissing of unsheathing steal as three of the other men made a move forward to protect their king, but the fourth man in a black bearskin halted them with a commanding hand.
“Hold.” his voice hard.
“NO!”
The Ice King turned for a second at the betrayal and as he did Lachlan took his chance, the rusty light liquid against the weapon as Lachlan thrust the blade forwards.
The Ice King took in a deep breath as his own sword pierced up into his ribcage. He looked displeased, his hands reaching, his fingers closing around Dr Lachlan Laidlaw’s skull, pressing so hard that Vanessa could hear the bones grinding but Lachlan held strong, his shoulders tensing and straining, his arm forcing the stolen blade higher, deeper, further.
The Ice King let out a long last breath as the blade retreated, slicing back through lung, kidney, liver, his blood rushing out, splashing, making the floor a slick, black-red river.
The body shuddered and fell forward and the man in black stepped forward. Clamping his fingers around the Ice King’s head he lifted the body and looked into the dead face with interest. He turned the face this way and that as the body, huge as it was, dangled from his fist.
“Here he is then, my friend, or here he was…” the man turned to Lachlan as to an old friend “…not so formidable, when death leaves behind the skin and bones.”
Lachlan’s left hand was holding onto Vanessa, his body still shielding hers although their clothes were sticky now and wet with the Ice King’s blood. Lachlan spoke up.
“Is it done?” His voice was not hiding its shakiness but already the man in black was shaking his head.
“No, Lachlan…” His smile was not friendly, not wide, it was all knowing. “Not yet… This king shrugged off the mantle at last.” dropping the Ice King’s corpse to the floor the man in black reached towards Lachlan. Lachlan pinned Vanessa tighter behind him.
“Don’t harm her. Not her. She found me, she’s done her part. Let her go.”
The man in black held up his hands.
“There is no letting go, Lachlan. She is part of your destiny and you are all of hers. Sixty years is no time at all where those like us are concerned.” The man in black smiled his unfriendly smile. “There are rules. Written somewhere.” He stepped forwards, his hands reaching to rest on Lachlan’s shoulders “The rule states that we must take an eye for an eye, my friend.” He smiled across at Vanessa and then glanced at the bloody mess on the floor “Recall…you are here to take the mantle from him, Lachlan and wear it yourself….”