Page 67 of Realm of Nightmares
Tiernan silently debated on recommending they stop and rest when Aran froze.
Instantly on alert, Tiernan drew his sword. “What is it?”
Aran pulled his own weapon. “Did you hear that?”
His voice was hoarse. Strained.
Tiernan held his breath and listened. There was nothing to be heard but a low, guttural growl. A dull roar.
The roar of the sea.
The wind had gone silent, just as Malachy had warned.
“Fuck,” Aran spat out the word at the same time as Tiernan yelled, “Run!”
They took off at a full sprint, leaping over the uneven ground. Beneath them, the ice started moving, groaning. It shifted and cracked, splintering into a pattern of ragged lines, breaking apart to reveal a thin sheet of black ice and the frigid depths of the Cloudborn Sea. Waves crashed, shoving up through the chunks of uneven ice. Below the surface, a massive shadowy figure slithered through dark waters, its body like that of a snake.
Before Tiernan could shout a warning, a giant sea serpent erupted through the trenches of ice, shattering the frozen earth. The force of it sent Tiernan and Aran stumbling backward, knocking them off their feet. Tiernan’s back slammed into a wall of solid ice, and shooting spasms of pain ricocheted up his spine, blurring his vision. He blinked the pain away, crawling to his feet as the sea serpent shrieked, the sound of its unnatural clamoring so piercing that Tiernan swore his ears were bleeding.
The monstrous creature was covered in brown, leathery skin and scales with spiked fins as sharp as any blade. It rose from the water, as tall as the northernmost mountains of Ashdara, dwarfing them in size. Thrashing, the sea serpent’s head swiveled in every direction, spewing saliva. The monster had no eyes, but what it lacked in sight, it made up for with its multiple rows of serrated teeth.
It reared back, then dove forward, crushing a slab of glacier in its muscular jaws.
Yanking one of his daggers from the band strapped to his waist, Tiernan hurled it into the serpent’s chest.
Thick blood oozed from the gaping wound, and it loosed another deafening howl. Flailing, the creature reeled, the spikes of its immense fins cutting through the air like wings outfitted with a dozen blades. Tiernan ducked low, rolling across the ice to avoid the blow.
Aran spun, wheeling around in one fluid movement. Arms raised, he arced his sword of nightshade into the attack. A fleshy, crunching noise filled the space between them as his weapon slashed into the monster’s fin, severing the appendage. Scarlet blood splattered in all directions, soaking the chunks of ice. The sea serpent roared, floundering in fury.
“I think we pissed it off,” Aran called out as the brutish snake heaved, then plunged back into the choppy, frost-covered waves.
“You could say that.” Tiernan scanned the frozen wasteland, searching for any sign of it. The Ice Straits rose and fell in a violent tandem. The wind had yet to return, and a low peal continued to echo up from the dark waters of the Cloudborn Sea.
The serpent was going to attack again, it was only a matter of when.
And where.
Sheets of ice and snow moved beneath him, disrupting his balance. Every so often the ground would tremor and quake, sending a thin sliver of cracks across the blood-stained glacier. It was as though the sea serpent was prodding just below the surface, taunting them. Keeping them on edge as it planned its next assault.
“It’s toying with us,” Tiernan murmured, wishing more than anything that Merrick was with them to track the damned beast.
“Playing with its food.” Aran stood across from him, crimson dripping from the tip of his sword. He gave his weapon a twirl. “How original.”
Their gazes met just as the serpent smashed through the ice once more, lunging toward Aran.
Tiernan shouted, a bellowing battle cry scraping the back of his throat. He sprinted toward Aran, shoving the High Prince out of the way. But the ground beneath him broke. Shards of ice fractured, rupturing apart from one another.
His footing slipped, his boots sliding as the glacier lifted before him in a wall of solid snow. Tiernan grappled for purchase, his gloved fingers desperately trying to find something to hold, but the incline was too steep. Too slick.
He gripped his sword, flipping it in his grasp like that of a dagger, and rammed it into the widening crevice. But the ice was too thin, and the glacier pitched backward, falling on top of him.
Tiernan sucked in a breath before plummeting into the dark, freezing depths of the Cloudborn Sea. The last thing he heard was Aran yelling his name.
* * *
The Cloudborn Seawas so cold it burned Tiernan’s skin. Thousands of frozen daggers skewered his flesh at once, making it impossible to move, to think. Already he was losing feeling in his arms and legs, the numbness spreading to his abdomen and chest. His lungs were on fire, desperate for air.
Hazy thoughts muddled his mind, and his fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. If he lost it to the sea, it would be that much more burdensome to get through the Kethwyn Woods.
