Frostfell_ The Wizards - Mark Sehestedt [106]
"Perhaps," said Amira, but she didn't believe it.
Off to their right in the distance came a long howl, plaintive and ending on a low note. It was the signal to begin their advance. One more off to the south would be the signal to the belkagen to get Jalan to the Witness Tree.
They set off at an easy trot, Amira leading them. The wolves fanned out, flanking them but slowing their pace so as not to outdistance the others.
Two-thirds of the way down the slope, they were approaching a series of humps that Amira had taken for snow-covered boulders. But as they drew close, the mounds erupted, and a half-dozen Frost Folk threw off their blanket of snow and the cloaks under them. Axes and swords raised, they charged Amira and the Vil Adanrath.
Amira raised her staff, and a wave of elves and wolves swept past her. She cursed as an elf and his wolf-brother leaped between her and her intended target.
But the Frost Folk turned and ran, heading for the ruins. A Vil Adanrath arrow sent one crashing into the snow, and three wolves fell upon him, rending and tearing. The tall men were surprisingly swift, not outpacing the elves but matching their speed. When they reached a large snowdrift they stopped and turned. A pair of winter wolves came round one side, three round the other, and two climbed the crest of the drift. Upon the topmost wolf-a great white beast larger than a stallion-a figure hunched inside an ash-gray cloak.
Amira screamed and charged.
The Frost Folk and winter wolves held their ground and waited for the Vil Adanrath to come to them. To Amira, the battle was a cacophony of growling and shrieking wolves, shouting men and elves, the clash of steel on steel, and the cries of the dying. Once the forces met, all was chaos, but Amira kept her focus on one thing only: the sorcerer.
He came down at them, his winter wolf charging the smaller wolves, teeth bared and a growl coming from its chest that caused the air itself to tremble. Amira saw one of the black-feathered arrows of the Vil Adanrath pierce its side, but so great was its battle-rage that it didn't seem to notice. Three wolves and an elf stood between it and Amira, but they scattered as the great wolf bore down upon them.
Amira held her ground-she could feel it trembling beneath her feet-and raised her staff. The winter wolf was coming so fast. She knew she'd only have one chance at this.
She thrust her open palm at the wolf's head and shouted, "Dramasthe!"
The bolt of yellow energy shot from her hand. It struck the beast full in the face, and in the moment of clarity that often came to her in battle, when moments seemed to stretch out to days, she saw bits of scorched flesh and skin shower outward, and the wolf's left eye exploded.
Its growl rose to a shriek, and the animal tumbled into the snow face first, sending up a great cloud of frost mixed with bits of smoke and blood. The rider in the ash-gray cloak went down as well, and Amira lost sight of him in all the flying snow and debris.
The winter wolf jumped to its feet and ran off northward, shaking its head in agony.
Amira saw the ash-gray cloak rising, perhaps even shaking a bit, and she thrust her staff forward with a cry. "Keljan saule!"
The runes etched into the staff flared, bathing Amira and the surrounding snowfield in a warm glow, and a shard of light shot out. It struck the ash-gray robes, and the figure flew backward as if struck by a giant's club. He hit the ground several paces away and fell into a smoking heap. Amira watched, ignoring the carnage around her and preparing another strike, but the sorcerer did not move.
She ran forward, her staff ready. Out of the corner of her eye. she saw one of the Frost Folk fall, a black wolf's jaws locked around his throat.
The sorcerer still had not moved. The mass of gray fabric smoked from her strike, and the surrounding snow steamed as it melted. She slowed as she approached, and still the figure had not moved.
Keeping the point of her staff aimed directly at the dark mass, the words