The Last Winter Page 12

  The old bear left Ullyr to ponder the gift, but before he closed the tent flap, he spoke softly. “I know this is not your way, little chieftain. I do not know your customs for honoring your dead. This is our way, and it is how I honored my own when he passed. I could think of no better way to honor Dawnstrider.”

  Ullstag let the tent flap close behind him. Ullyr whispered something that was lost to the Bearzyrk. Looking back, he saw a subtle glow from within the tent; the light came from the bow made of elkhorn antlers. Ullyr spoke again, this time with more conviction. This time, Ullstag did not fail to hear what was spoken.

  “Dawn Breaker.”

  CHAPTER 28

  ALL THE CHILDREN OF MISTGARD

  ENSIONS WERE HIGH AMONG THE clans of Mistgard. The giants were coming, but for now, the hour was silent and stark. The Pandyr took shifts watching the perimeter, and the ones not on duty took time to mend armor or even tried to get a few moments’ rest.

  The Storm Speaker sat atop the highest peak, watching with his other eyes. He stood up stiffly, and from below the cloud cover, horns blared and bleated out discordant sounds. The great albatross, Fog, rose slowly through the clouds and landed near the Storm Speaker. The bird was streaked from smoke, and his feathers had been blackened by flame. Atop his back lay Gloam, holding on weakly with his beak. The Storm Speaker took Gloam and spoke softly to him; the little bird clung tenuously to life.

  “Ursara, tend to our friend here,” he said.

  Seeing Gloam in such a state stirred her out of her silence. “The fighting is done for you, little wing. You will rest now,” she said as gently as if speaking to her own kin. She walked to her tent and tended to the small black bird with caring hands.

  The Storm Speaker smiled, happy to see his daughter’s mind focusing on something other than the absent Frostpaw. He was saddened over the misfortune he had caused Gloam. He had sent the tiny bird and Fog to see if they could glimpse any sign of Frostpaw. Neither Gloam nor Fog had seen the boy.

  “Storm Speaker, you should see this!” shouted Thoryn.

  Trusting Ursara to care for their little friend, the Storm Speaker stepped down from his watch and moved over to the Hammerheart’s side. “The giants?” he asked.

  “It is not the giants. But look there, through the clouds. Something approaches . . . and a lot of something, by the size of the group.”

  Shadows moved slowly through the curtain of storm clouds, and from the mists came the orphans of Mistgard.

  Flocks of gray gulls and dusky blackbirds descended, followed by singular or paired storm eagles, mist owls, and sun hawks. Wild elkhorn leapt through the clouds, and from behind them stalked large packs of jaegyr hounds, all covered with ash and frost. Every manner of beast walked through the camp. Small cliff leopards were side by side with horned hares and frost foxes. All of the island’s fauna, normally predator and prey to each other, marched together in hopes of finding sanctuary from the wrath the giants had brought to Mistgard. The Pandyr stood amazed at the menagerie. The animals hesitated at the gathering before them, all but one. A grizzled jaegyr hound approached the Storm Speaker, who, upon seeing the beast, smiled at his old acquaintance.

  “By Sprign, after all these years,” he said as he held out his hand to the big hound. Fenryr’s scarred face looked at the Storm Speaker with a bright eye. His other eye was missing, lost in a fight long ago to a cub protecting his herd. “It’s good to have you and your pack with us today.”

  The Storm Speaker and the other Pandyr walked among the animals, letting them sniff and smell them. The Pandyr petted them in return, showing that they were all together in these final hours.

  The Under-King stood stoically, watching the horizon. The Storm Speaker saw the look Fell bore, and he knew that the end was drawing near. He spoke strong and powerful words to his kin, both Pandyr and animal. “We are all that are left, my friends, the last of the children of Sprign. From elkhorn, hare, and hound to the eight clans of the Pandyr, we will fight or fall together.”

  As if in answer, a clamor of horns echoed up through the clouds.

  The Storm Speaker looked around the camp one last time. Though his words were bold, his heart felt empty. Without the strength of the Bearzyrk, the final battle seemed doomed. A firm hand gripped him, and he looked down upon the stout Hammerheart chieftain, who grinned savagely.

  “Till the last hammer stops singing, there is still a chance,” said Thoryn.

  “You know, Thoryn, even though I know better, I almost believe you,” said the Storm Speaker.

  “I almost believe it, too,” said Thoryn, laughing softly. The Storm Speaker and the Hammerheart chieftain shook hands and joined the other Pandyr.

  Thoryn and his Hammerheart, along with Ullstag and the Jadebow, readied their weapons. Mistcloak and Darkcloud were in position. The Iceclaw, Ironbeard, and Thundermaw, along with what remained of the Sunspear, stood fast. All the clansmen were ready and looking at the Storm Speaker. He raised his spear to them, and they in turn raised their weapons high. The howls of the giants broke the cloud cover, and frost-covered feet and fiery-spurred heels struck the ground. Above the din rose the voices of the Pandyr in unison.

  “By tooth and by claw, by fang and by paw!”

  The beasts of Mistgard howled, brayed, mewled, and screeched loudly in their tongues as well.

  The Pandyr looked toward the parting clouds below them with anticipation and dread. They stood at the top of the world and gazed down upon their doom with fierce eyes and heavy hearts. Surrounding their camp, the armies of the giants approached. These were not mere giantkin. These were the foulest sons of Firehome and Icegard that the brothers commanded. They were tremendous beings of hate and despair, towering as tall as the trees some twenty-five feet in the air. The twisted giantkin that milled around them seemed insignificant compared to the titans of frost and fire. Blades clanged on shields, and as one, the giants surged forward. The world trembled.

  At the charge of the enemy, a familiar whirring sound came from the Hammerheart clan. Today, their hammers hummed a funeral dirge, but for whom, it was not yet known. The strain of yew bows sounded behind the thrumming hammers. Thoryn and Ullstag stood side by side, Pandyr and Bearzyrk, brothers of battle. Thoryn’s hammer was a whirlwind, and Ullstag’s voice a thunderclap.

  “Jadebow . . . fire!” boomed the Bearzyrk. A torrent of steel and feathers rained down upon blue and red skin, piercing each color with equal prejudice. Hundreds fell, only to be replaced with a thousand more. The gap was closing, and while the Jadebow reloaded, the Hammerheart advanced.

  Thoryn and his clansmen launched their screaming hammers in unison, and the thunderous chorus was followed by bone-crunching thuds and the sound of giants striking earth. Hammers soared back to their masters’ hands in time to meet the next wave of the giants’ charge.

  “Fire at will!” yelled Ullstag, and he began launching his spear-sized arrows into the fray.

  Thoryn led his Hammerheart into battle, and the rest of the clans charged with him. The battlements broke the assault of the giants, and they were impaled by spear, lance, and crystal shard. A series of explosive reports echoed across the battlefield as the giants stumbled upon the Mistcloak’s tripwires, sending lethal blossoms of sharpened steel twisting through the air.

  Fell and his minions moved through the giants like an avalanche. The Under-King shifted his form to a flowing slab of stone and crashed down upon giant flesh, pulverizing it to blue powder and red ash.

  Even the animals, though weak and weary, tore into the giants with the primal fury of the wild. Claw and fang stood with horn and hoof, wounding with equal enmity. Beak and talon darted and gouged. The entire island of Mistgard stood united against the foul armies of frost and fire.

  Devastation was rampant on the mountain, but it was nothing compared to the wrath of the Storm Speaker. Even the stoic Under-King was surprised at the power of the Oldest of Cubs. At the back of the Pandyr’s armies, high atop the tallest of Fell’s
battlements, stood the lone figure of the Storm Speaker. He called forth and charmed the very storms from the clouds beneath him and sent electric green-and-blue arcs of lightning into the giants’ lines, blasting hundreds of their bodies off of the battlefield and into the mist below.

  The world above burned. The radiant morning light was blackened by acrid smoke, making the golden skull radiate a brown and bloody glow. The Aesirmyr lay strewn with broken bodies: blue and red intertwined with black and white. Death was not prejudiced on this morning, and she called many to her court.

  Still the giants marched, and their screams of pain turned to roars of triumph when their kings entered the fray.

  CHAPTER 29

  THE CLASH OF THE KINGS

  HE BATTLEFIELD SEEMED TO QUIET when his shadow broke the clouds. The air seemed to thicken, and even the light of the Skulls in the Sky seemed to pale. For the first time, the clans of Mistgard were introduced to their own doom. The Bringer of the End walked on the top of the world. Lord Wintyr, ruler of Icegard, entered from the north.

  Lord Wintyr stood seventy feet tall and was as massive as a mountain, a living, breathing nightmare of frost and fury. Surrounding him were ripping storms, and wherever he walked, he left a frozen wasteland. His azure skin was covered in jagged ice shards, some of which jutted out chaotically from his shoulders and back. His beard, which hung to his waist, was a vicious array of razor-sharp icicles. His lone eye gleamed; a cold blue light emanated from under his icy helm.

  The giantkin’s cheers abruptly stopped and turned to screams as they frantically scattered out of Wintyr’s path. Those who were too slow were crushed by his heavy stride or frozen solid as he passed them. Upon the battlements and those defending them, he unleashed his fury. Lord Wintyr raised his axe of ice and swung it down to the earth, crushing both battlements and Pandyr equally.

  The air became humid, and the ice that coated the earth began to melt and turn the top of the world into a boiling, muddy mess. A howl went up from the giants as the lord of Firehome entered the battlefield from the south.

  Clad in black iron and brass ring mail were King Sumyr and his elite guard. Pandyr and beast were mercilessly swept aside by the horrendous fiery arcs of King Sumyr’s flaming blade. It cut earth and fur alike, killing and cauterizing in the same instant.

  His burning crown of iron blazed above his brow, and the king of Firehome looked for his earthen brother with molten hate. “Where are you, Brother? It’s time to pay for your betrayal.”

  The earth shook, and in a flash, the Under-King rose from the ground beneath Sumyr’s feet, toppling the Fire King. Fell clapped his hands together, and a massive dome of rock enveloped Sumyr and crashed down, completely covering him.

  A moment later the stones began to glow dully with a fiery light from within. The dome started to shake as King Sumyr rose from the heap, stone liquefying into slag and pooling to the earth. With a roar, Sumyr belched forth a column of crimson fire that consumed the Under-King, whose earthen skin blackened and melted, and the Under-King dropped to his knees. Molten metal poured freely from his wounds. Sumyr launched forward and swung for a deathblow, but his sword struck the ground that Fell had once occupied. The Under-King had simply disappeared into the surface of the mountain. Sumyr raged and his sword blazed, liquefying the stone beneath it. “I’ll scorch this land into molten glass. Then where will you hide, Brother?”

  Sumyr’s taunts were interrupted as an arrow smashed into the side of his helm. Ullstag took aim at Sumyr and launched another arrow that banged loudly into the Fire King’s crown with tremendous force, notching it. Sumyr stared at the Bearzyrk with his burning eye. “Time to burn, pale cub of Ghostmane!”

  His sword ignited, and from it he hurled a ball of flame. The fire hurtled toward Ullstag and the Jadebow, striking their position. Cries filled the air, and the remaining archers of the Jadebow scattered. Lying in a heap of scorched bodies was the blackened form of Ullstag, badly burned but somehow still alive. He desperately tried to crawl away from the king of Firehome, but the giant of fire stood triumphantly above him.

  “Bearzyrk, you seem to have many lives,” Sumyr said, somewhat surprised. “You survived the watery doom at the lake, and now, the wrath of my fire . . . Well, since I can’t drown or burn you, let us see how you fare with twenty feet of iron.” King Sumyr towered over Ullstag and raised his sword, ready to make ruin of the fallen archer.

  There was a loud twang followed by an angry buzzing sound that stopped the fire giant and turned his mocking laughter into screams of pain. A green, feathered arrow jutted forth from his eye socket, and Sumyr’s rage became madness. The lord of Firehome was blind. Ullstag looked over to where the arrow had come from, and he saw a glorious sight that stirred his old heart with pride.

  Ullyr stood tall and lean against the morning sky. And he was not alone, for in his left arm he held a magnificent set of golden antlers.

  “Ullyr, Dawn Breaker sings beautifully this morning,” Ullstag said proudly.

  The Jadebow chieftain slowly limped forward and nocked another arrow with his teeth. With much effort he pushed his arm forward, and with his remaining strength, he readied for the killing shot.

  “Watch out!” cried Ullstag.

  Ullyr looked and saw a snarling fire giant charging at him from the south. Ullstag was too maimed to fight, and he helplessly watched the chieftain as he launched another arrow, skewering the giant in the chest.

  The maddened Fire King howled and slashed blindly. Ullyr, slinging Dawn Breaker on his back, barely had time to grab the fallen Bearzyrk and pull him out of the deadly path of Sumyr’s fiery blade. Both fell in a heap and lay still.

  “You will all burn for this!” Sumyr screamed. Fire roared from his throat, sending columns of flame hurtling forward. Giant and Pandyr alike were consumed by the firestorm, and many who weren’t were carved in two by the enraged swings of Sumyr’s great iron sword. The king of Firehome was destroying everything in his madness. The very air was ablaze.

  It was then that the battered Under-King returned to the fray. Though his wounds had healed somewhat, the fury of his brother’s wrath had scarred his body. Regardless of the pain, Fell would not let his sister’s children perish. With great effort, he sent a shockwave toward his brother, striking at the earth beneath the Fire King’s iron boots, knocking him prone.

  Silver rivulets ran like blood from the corner of his mouth, and the Under-King coughed weakly. “I am still here, Brother. Come, finish me if you can!” He stumbled into the mountainside, and it opened up for him, creating a gigantic tunnel. Fell limped into its depths, taunting his brother. “I see you, Brother! I’ll be waiting for you.”

  “Face me, coward! Face me!” screamed the Fire King. He moved toward the Under-King’s voice, followed by a throng of his elite guard. They entered the cave and moved forward into the depths of the Under Realm.

  The cave sealed itself up, and the mountainside was silent.

  CHAPTER 30

  THE HAMMER FALLS

  HE BATTLE WAS FURIOUS AND deadly for both sides, and while the Pandyr fought fiercely, their numbers were diminishing. In the center of the battlefield stood the unconquerable Hammerheart clan. Its chieftain, Thoryn, was a whirlwind of doom.

  “Their numbers are too great for us to battle forever. We must stop the tide!” he shouted as he pointed his ancient hammer at Wintyr. “Kill the heart, and the body dies!”

  His clansmen nodded in agreement.

  “His skin is solid as a mountain. We’ll need to get closer to strike a mortal blow . . . but how? Just being near him is death.” Thoryn thought for a moment and reached into his tunic. He pulled forth the last of his magic honeycomb and devoured it. He looked to the others around him, and they all understood.

  The Hammerheart warriors took what little honeycomb they had left and gave it to their chieftain, who swallowed it down by the handful. He gazed at his fellow clansmen, and his eyes were burning with the fire of Sprign’s last gift.
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br />   He belched and smiled broadly before he turned around and charged at the lord of Icegard. Thoryn stopped not a hundred paces from Wintyr and climbed to the top of a stone ledge. The honeycomb warmed his limbs with an amber fire, but through its radiant heat, he could still feel Wintyr’s cold gnawing at his core. Even standing on the rock, the Hammerheart chieftain rose to a height that barely reached the icy chest of Wintyr.

  He hurled not hammer but insults at the lord of Icegard. “Face my hammer, Lord Snowflake! I’m over here, you slack-eyed giantess! I’ve faced more danger dancing with my daughter!”

  Lord Wintyr looked at the tiny Thoryn and laughed mockingly. The Hammerheart chieftain was no more than a fly next to him, standing defiantly on the stone precipice. “I am here, insignificant spawn of Sprign,” he said as he opened his arms wide. “You wish to face me in single combat? Very well. You may strike at me first.” He pounded his chest with an icy hand. Deadly spear-sized icicles rained down from his frozen beard, and they fell to the earth and smashed heavily on his frost-plated feet.

  Thoryn noted a small area where the icy armor had cracked and revealed Wintyr’s unprotected foot. Thoryn eyed the living glacier, and a grim smile split his lips.

  The battlefield had quieted at the words of the Ice King. All that could be heard were the whirls of Thoryn’s hammer and the laugh of Lord Wintyr. “Strike at me, little cub, and show my legions the might of Sprign’s children!” bellowed the lord of Icegard.

  Again, Thoryn smiled broadly and charged at the ice lord. At the very last instant, Thoryn leapt off of the cliff. Instead of hurling his mighty hammer, Thoryn hurtled downward nearly fifty feet before bringing his great-grandfather’s hammer down furiously upon the ice lord’s frost-shod foot.