White Stag (Permafrost #1)(88)

Seppo motioned toward the trees, and I swallowed. It was time. Every nerve in my body tingled as we climbed up until we had a good view of the battlefield. Both wolves were lying down, panting, their circuit complete. They’ll be all right. I tried to calm the gnawing in my belly. They’re smart creatures. I just hoped they ran for the mountains as soon as they caught their breath.

Below us, a few meters forward, Soren and Lydian fought. The blood coating the ground was black in the still-dark sky, splashing against the trees, coating the clothes and hair of the two monster-like beings. No one would mistake them for beautiful now; they were ultimate predators. One of them had blood coating his fine white hair, and he fought like a wild cat. Swift and subtle, with graceful, yet powerful strikes as he circled around his opponent. Soren. Lydian was more like a bear, throwing his weight and power around as hard and fast as he could. Between them, the air crackled with energy.

A little way away from them, I saw it. Him. The stag was as white as he had been in my dreams, as white as he was back in his palace. But the oldness was no more; the young buck’s muscles rippled through his body as he gracefully bounded right toward the fight.

“Go!” I shouted to Seppo. “Whistle!”

“Cover your ears,” he said, and I obliged, watching with one eye on the fight, the other eye on the bounding stag. My heart leapt with each hoofbeat as the graceful animal stopped, picking up his head at Seppo’s whistle. But then he ran again as the fiery blaze spread around the battling goblins, quickly setting both worlds aflame and spilling smoke into the air. The stag leapt over the raging flames and dodged tree branches and debris as if he already knew they’d fall before him.

Smoke filled the sky as the fire burned a deadly bluish color, and I sprang to the ground from my spot on the tree and ran. Seppo called from behind me to stop. But I couldn’t stop. We were too late; the stag was already heading for them. My heart thrummed powerfully in my chest, and the blood rushed in my ears, every bit of my body tingling as it pierced the energy-laden air. Soft light painted the sky as the sun peeked over the horizon; the witching hour had come at last.

I dodged the falling trees and flaming bushes, feeling but not feeling as the fire caressed my flesh. Adrenaline dissipated any shreds of remaining fear. All I could think was not him, not him. He wouldn’t die, I wouldn’t let him.

The stag and I burst into the fight at the same time, almost colliding with each other as we did. Time stopped. Lydian and Soren looked around at the burning forest, the stag and I standing between them, and the dark eyes of the goblins who’d come to watch the show.

“Janneke,” Soren said, voice distorted in a growl. “You came back.”

I looked the monster I loved in the eye. “I always will.”

Then I braced myself as the goblins descended upon me.





21


THE WITCHING HOUR


THERE’S A MOMENT in every archer’s life when they realize their chosen weapon has a fatal flaw. As a pack of goblins came down upon me, I finally reached that moment.

Skadi gave me extra arrows after I slew the draugr. But even with thirty-some arrows in my quiver, there were seven goblins not including Lydian, and in the havoc, my odds were pretty slim.

The bow was a hunter’s weapon, used on animals, not for melee combat. I understood more and more why Soren focused on training with as many different weapon types as possible, and why he carried a knife and two swords along with his bow and quiver. If I survived this, I would have to take a page from his book and more extensively train with my axe. The stiletto was strapped to my side and the short, slender blade would be my only defense from a close attack. It still felt awkward in my hands.

Smoke from the fire burned my eyes as the wind whisked it up into the air. Inhaling, I tasted iron and copper on my tongue. The billowing darkness around me would’ve made a lesser hunter blind, but not me. Behind me, the sound of Soren and Lydian’s fighting dwindled into the distance as their battle brought them farther and farther away.

When the first goblin descended upon me, I shot an arrow through him before he got close enough to strike. Whipping around, I let the arrows fly, two in one go, then three, using the maneuvers that my father taught me long ago and Soren helped me perfect.

Soren and Lydian disappeared in the blinding smoke. My eyes were streaming with tears, but there was no time to wipe them away. Somewhere in this ring of fire, Lydian and Soren were fighting. Somewhere in the smoke was the stag.

The sky would fall before I let Lydian get to it first.

Blood splashed on the back of my neck and I turned, arrow nocked, to see a goblin with a blade sticking through its mouth. From behind the long staff, Seppo smiled grimly. “It seems like my plan isn’t going to work very well.”

I laughed, surprising myself. “It’s about time these crazy plans caught up to us! We’ll figure it out,” I said, aiming above his head at a goblin in the trees.

Another goblin swung at him, but he caught his blade with the metal shaft of his staff. The air stirred around me, and I turned, ducking just in time before another goblin sliced my neck open.

The fight was almost like a dance. I wasn’t as in sync as I’d been with Soren, but we were good enough. Seppo slaughtered the goblins close enough to use their short-range weapons, and I picked off the ones who stayed behind, one by one, until they were falling out of the trees.