Page 23 of The Savage Queen

A branch snapped in the distance. Perhaps ice cracking or soil upturned.

Dagfin and Killian tensed at once, searching the dark around them. Panicked, the horses bucked, grabbing their tethers with their teeth.

“Do you have more men out there?” Starn asked.

Sigewulf shook his head. “No, Fjallnorr kin travel in small groups.”

“For forge’s sake,” Annind blurted, shifting his body so his back faced the camp and not the surrounding forest.

“Aisling,” Dagfin said, releasing Sigewulf. “Step away from the trees.”

Indeed, Aisling stood at the lip of their camp, tiptoeing the line between firelight and shadow. Slowly, Aisling moved to stand beside Dagfin, shoulder to shoulder.

Not another sound was made. Somehow worse than a growl or roar. The quiet mocked them and licked its lips.

“Some more of your friends?” Starn asked Aisling, tightening his grip around the haft of his blade now slick with sweat.

Aisling glared at him. The words eluded her. For she couldn’t smell nor feel a single animal save the chief of Fjallnorr’s frenzied mares. No wolves, nor foxes, nor hares, nor birds, nor snakes. As though the forest were suddenly empty. A fathomless abyss made of spindly bones.

But then it laughed, teeth clicking as it cleared its throat of dirt.

CHAPTER X

AISLING

In the mountains of Fjallnorr, death was frostbitten, relentless, and inevitable.

Cloaked by webs of silver frost, this Unseelie tore through the earth and its carpet of leaves.

It stood on two creaking legs, wrapped in ivory roots and thorns. A decaying corpse still clad in forge-welded armor. Its grave possessed by the forest of ice in which it lay.

Aisling stared it down, balling her hands into fists at her sides.

It tilted its skull to the side, curious, before dissolving into frenzied laughter once more. Worms, beetles, and dirt skittered from its eye sockets as it appraised their party.

“Fear gorta,” Sigewulf exhaled, staggering back.

Aisling silently repeated its name, but she already knew its kind.

Unseelie. “Dealing with the Unseelie is complex. They’re not a single race. They’re many with various lords, chiefs, matriarchs, and leaders. Ranging from pure beast to conscious, intelligent creatures. All chaotic, archaic, opposed to order and governed solely by hunger and need.” Lir taught her this what felt like a lifetime ago. And since then, Aisling hadbecome familiar with multiple breeds of Unseelie. Some tales claiming even Aisling herself was Unseelie.

Aisling’s pulse raced but she swallowed her fear and reached for herdraiocht.

The fear gortaunlatched an obsidian greataxe from its back. Ice creeping down the weapon as its rotten bones gripped the haft. It spun the blade between its crimson stained fingers, narrowing its eyes on Aisling.

“Skalla,” it wheezed. Aisling lost her breath, staggering back. But then its attention shifted to Dagfin and stayed.

An arrow shot across the expanse.

The reed stuck into the fear gorta’s head, juddering still from the impact. But the creature was unfazed, turning to find Annind, poised with a bow in hand.

The Unseelie reeled back his arm before releasing his greataxe. It flew, winding toward Annind. The blade cut across Annind’s chest despite his attempts to dodge the onslaught, dying the snow beneath him red while he rolled in the dirt.

“Annind!” Iarbonel shouted.

The axe continued on, circling their camp like death’s raven. Slicing the Roktan crew members one by one, Fjallnorrians, leaving their bodies dismembered in its wake before returning to its master like a hound on a chain.

Aisling ground her teeth, ignoring her earlier concerns and unleashing wicked wildfire at the fiend. Concentrating all her power on the demon and not their camp nor on one another. Fortunately, the fire found its target, igniting the skeleton like a torch in a dungeon of trees. The Unseelie cringed, bracing itself against the heat, devouring its ancient skeleton spark by spark.

---