Page 63 of Wings of Ice and Steel

She hoped Nieve would forgive her for ruining her clothes.

With a burst of power, Ariadnne summoned her dragon and erupted—filling the sands with her sinuous, scaled form.

Almost collectively, the knights in front of her turned, jaws dropping, a temporary hush falling across the yard. Ariadnne was never summoned for a call like this, unless Melixanthe decreed she was to fight. She prayed that her rapidly assembled plan would work, and that the knights would assume she was following orders. Melixanthe would have no choice but to let her fly, or risk looking like she couldn’t control her ward. Or, even better, Melixanthe might be too drugged up by the healers to show, and Josef would take command under the assumption that Ariadnne had orders.

As she’d hoped, the engineers swarming the floor barely missed a beat, and within minutes her harness had been found and was being rigged to her body.

There was a commotion at the entrance to the training yard. Ariadnne’s heart dropped at the sight of Melixanthe in nothing less than full armour over her bandages. The General’s eyes widened at the sight of Ariadnne in dragon form. Ariadnne’s stomach squirmed as Melixanthe’s eyes narrowed, her attention quickly called away by knights clamouring for orders. There was a brief struggle on her face as she straightened, ignoring her pain, and strode across the sand.

‘Where’s Josef?’ she demanded.

Her Second pushed his way through the crowd.

‘Here,’ he called, impeccably presented despite the chaos.

‘As you can see, I’ve decided we would be the best fit for this scenario. Gather the company and let’s get airbourne,’ Melixanthe said tightly, shooting Ariadnne a dark look before marching over to Prontus’ handler for a report. Ariadnne felt a flutter of guilt as she realised Melixanthe was going to fly too, injury be damned.

Melixanthe tutted, and Ariadnne heard her mutter about the Mordai being too far from their homeland.

Her company wore looks of confusion as they approached. Finnick shrugged into his armour, his hair especially tousled, and Kayla frowned in confusion at the fae buzzing over Ariadnne, stocking her harness with an arsenal of weapons.

Hissing under her breath, Melixanthe approached. ‘I hope you know what the fuck you are doing, Ariadnne. I don’t even want to know why you were here in the first place. You will answer later for this.’ Ariadnne lowered her head, but the sight of Nieve preparing amongst her company strengthened her resolve. Melixanthe shook her head. ‘We’ll take Lucius. I only hope he can keep up.’

*

Flying at breakneck speed, Ariadnne pushed herself to the limit as Lucius fell further and further behind. The frozen province of Miradael was usually a four-hour flight. Ariadnne was determined to do it in less.

In four hours Nieve’s people might be gone.

The country slipped by in flashes of moonlight as they followed the northern constellations until the stars were blotted out by the shadow of distant mountains. The air grew frigid, snow swirling around them, frosting eyelashes and spines. Ahead, pale slopes and valleys reflected the weak, cloud-speckled light of the moon, dotted with sinister, orange fire.

Where the northern clans’ villages would normally nestle in the protected valleys, destruction reigned; buildings reduced to rubble, blood stained streets, and corpses strewn over the smouldering wreckage of their livelihoods. Village after village, destroyed.

Pain ripped through Ariadnne’s chest, and she was unable to tell where hers ended and Nieve’s began. She prayed that Nieve’s village was not amongst those they flew past as they followed the trail of devastation.

Clouds parted, and Ariadnne’s gut clenched to see the vast shadow covering the snow ahead. A seething mass of angry, twisted creatures loped through the valley. Dotted amongst them were tall, faceless figures whose edges flickered and shifted in the moonlight. Wraiths. Her violet eyes widened, and she released a plume of ice as she realised the creatures were chasing a party of fae—survivors from the villages.

She had to save them.

Without waiting for Melixanthe’s command, Ariadnne bellowed to the heavens and tucked her wings. Wind screamed as she hurtled from the sky, barrelling into the rear rows of ebony-skinned Mordai with enough force to send them flying. The creatures screeched in rage, and those closest to her ceased their wild chase to turn and clamber over each other in crazed attempts to follow in her wake. Ariadnne released her magic and froze those ahead of her before sweeping up and away.

She’d won the attention of most of the creatures. Arrows peppered the bodies of many, but unless they’d taken a direct shot to the head, they were barely slowed. She dove again, this time concentrating on the front lines, slowing them down.

Ariadnne assumed it would be a one-sided battle, seeing as the Mordai had limited capacity to inflict any damage to her in the sky. She failed to consider the Wraiths. They were usually solitary creatures, and it was unusual to encounter more than one. It was especially odd for them to be out in the open.

Dotted across the valley, the tall, wispy Wraiths fixed their attention on Ariadnne and flickered out of existence. Ariadnne whipped her head round to locate them and realised in horror they were materialising on her back, her knights yelling in surprise. The pale forms swarmed over her harness, grappling with the knights and trying to fasten their gaping, formless mouths to their victims.

Ariadnne threw herself into a roll, trying to shake them loose, but only one or two shook free, drifting almost weightlessly, before winking out of existence and re-appearing on her back.

Panic rose in her throat as she whipped and twirled through the wind. Blades were useless against the Wraiths’ insubstantial flesh, and the stench of terror filled the air as her knights grappled fruitlessly with their assailants. To Ariadnne’s horror, a few faces paled as drooping mouths fastened on to limbs; feasting on their life with sickening, sucking sounds. Rook slumped in his harness, unconscious, and she caught sight of Finnick wrestling with the grasping arms of his own Wraith, fear flooding his usually over-confident features.

She felt a sharp stab in her chest and cried out as she realised Nieve was in danger. The Iceling snarled as a hooded figure stalked towards her, feinting with her blades, ice skittering along the edges. The Wraith continued regardless, mouth wide as it reached for her. Ariadnne echoed Nieve’s scream of rage as she lunged, burying her icy blades in the creature’s chest. Time slowed as ice spread across the Wraith’s chest, freezing it solid so that it tumbled from Ariadnne’s back to shatter on the ground below.

They were not immune to elemental magic, then.

Thank the gods Nieve realised this. With a curl of her fingers, she summoned her power and Ariadnne huffed in delight as Nieve froze every Wraith within reach, her blasts of ice clearing the space around Ariadnne’s shoulder and keeping Melixanthe safe.

Dantro and Lucile were also faring better than some as they used sharp gusts of wind to blow Wraiths free, keeping their section of the harness as clear as they could. Despite this, there were still too many. Her knights were being overrun.