Page 26 of Blood Beneath the Snow (Blood & Souls Duology #1)

26

Our undercover soldiers, off on missions to gather intelligence behind enemy lines, returned at the same time as the rest of the army, dragging a snarling Kryllian in one of our uniforms with them. “Spy,” I heard them inform my father. The king only grunted before disappearing into his tent with the newly captured prisoner and all my brothers except Frode. Agonized screams echoed through the camp for two hours before the man broke and revealed crucial information.

“Gather your weapons,” my father announced when Frode and I joined the rest of our family at Jac’s summons. “We are headed to their secret camp in the east. That’s where the Hellbringer is hiding.”

I heard him, but my mind was occupied with the gruesome sight of the spy, still tied to the chair they’d left him in. He was dead, head hanging limp and eyes sightless. He had been burned from the knees down; all that remained were charred bits of flesh on bone. A knife was buried in his back and blood dripped from his lifeless eyes and mouth.

“Jac will impersonate the spy,” my father continued. “If we move fast enough, word of his capture will not have reached them yet. He will infiltrate the camp and learn where the Hellbringer will be at his most vulnerable. Frode will listen for his signal, and when it’s given, we will move in.”

Bjorn nodded, Erik’s face serious. I turned away from the corpse to glance at Frode. Did they actually know the Hellbringer’s location, or had the spy managed to give them false information?

Frode shrugged subtly at my thought. I knew the likelihood of us catching and killing S?ren was slim to none, but it didn’t stop my heart from beating faster in my chest, my stomach twisting at the thought of someone hurting him. Would I be able to stand back and watch without intervening while they tried?

Only time would tell.

A soldier came and hauled away the spy’s body while my brothers strapped their armor on and grabbed their weapons. As soon as we were all prepared, we departed into the crisp afternoon.

It was dark when my father signaled we had arrived.

The woods obscured the dim lantern Bjorn lit. Jac dismounted, and I watched with fascination as he turned into an identical copy of the Kryllian spy. The transformation was like watching a bucket being poured over my brother’s head, but instead of water, a new identity washed over him. His hair turned light blond and grew out, his joints popped as he heightened several inches, and his eyes changed color.

Once he finished transforming, he dressed in the armor they had pulled off the spy before torturing him. Underneath, the too-big training garb I’d wondered about earlier was now a perfect fit.

We watched with bated breath as Jac’s shadow disappeared into the darkness. The tiny glow of a campfire flickered in the distance, tents arranged in a half circle around it. Occasional figures from the camp passed by, silhouetted against the small fire.

Bjorn and Erik moved the horses into a concentrated area within the grove of trees, where they would be obscured from enemy sight. I followed suit, hitching my own horse to a tree and trying to draw as little attention from Bjorn and my father as possible. Honestly, I was surprised they’d let me come along in the first place. The only explanation I could fathom was they hoped the Hellbringer would kill me while we were here.

Frode cocked his head to the side, listening. He frowned. “I think the info we had was right. I’m pretty sure that’s the Hellbringer I hear.”

“What is he thinking?” Bjorn demanded.

Frode shook his head. “I can’t make it out. His mind sounds like…a battlefield.” Frode glanced at me questioningly. “It’s as if there are hundreds of voices in his head. And they’re all screaming at him.”

I had no clue why it would sound like there was an army living in the Hellbringer’s mind. He seemed normal enough to me. Well, as normal as someone like the Hellbringer can be.

Frode lowered his voice, and I was unsure whether his next words were addressed to me or to himself. “No wonder I’ve never been able to distinguish his individual thoughts in battle before.”

We settled in to wait for our moment to strike.

Was S?ren here of his own accord, or because the queen had ordered him here? It was impossible to know. The more important question was whether my brothers and father actually stood a chance at killing him.

I tried to imagine watching Bjorn slicing off the Hellbringer’s head. Nausea rolled through my stomach. No. That couldn’t happen.

A hand grabbed my wrist: Frode. “Stop worrying,” he murmured. “You of all people know how capable he is.”

I took a deep breath and tried to silence my mind.

Hours later, when the sun had begun to peer over the horizon, people began emerging from their tents.

“What’s going on?” Erik muttered. “It’s not dawn yet.”

Frode frowned and inclined his head. “They’re gathering for something. A…a speech, maybe? I think the Hellbringer is going to give a speech. And”—he squinted—“something else, but I can’t make it out. There’re too many voices; they’re clouding my hearing.”

“Should we get closer?” I asked.

No one was more surprised than I was when Bjorn agreed with me. “Yes. Use the snowdrift there for cover.”

We crept toward the campground until we could hide behind the mound of snow Bjorn had pointed out. It rested just outside the border of the gathering crowd. Now, we faced the center hearth of the camp, the tents a backdrop against the speech Frode had learned was happening. If we listened carefully, we could hear voices over the wind.

My heart thudded an unsteady beat against my ribs. S?ren was just through there, obscured by the soldiers. Anticipation swirled with anxiety in my stomach.

Father looked at Frode. “It’s up to you now, son,” he said.

Frode was pale. He fidgeted with the hilts of his knives. I knew the gesture—it most often appeared when he wandered the halls of the castle a day or two before leaving for the front.

I reached out and put a hand on his knee. He glanced at me, and I could see the anxiety in his eyes. You can do this.

He gave a curt nod.

The wind carried voices over the drifts. For a long while I didn’t recognize any of them, but when a sudden snag of conversation caught my attention, I stiffened. Nothing could disguise the dissonance of the mask distorting the Hellbringer’s tone.

“—a victory for Kryllian,” he was saying. I tilted my head to try and hear better. “We are one step closer to destroying the heathens who dare lay claim to our land!”

Cheering echoed through the clearing. As it subsided, Frode turned to Father. “Something is wrong,” he said, panicked. “They know it’s Jac; they know he’s a spy.” He froze. “And they know we’re—”

A hand reached over the snowdrift and grabbed me by the arm. Thanks to the Hellbringer’s training, I moved on pure instinct, twisting in an attempt to remove myself from the attacker’s clutches and lunging with my own blow.

My fist didn’t connect, and I lost my balance, half falling. The hand adjusted its grip and pulled me up by the shoulder.

I looked into the familiar mask of my assailant.

“Hello, Revna,” the Hellbringer said.

I stared at him. My thoughts swirled into something unintelligible in my brain, and a mixture of relief, adoration, and panic pounded through my veins. He pulled me over the snowdrift, and I cried out as my arm resisted being pulled from its socket.

Jac was the first person I saw as the crowd parted. He was tied to a chair next to their campfire, and soldiers swarmed, laughing and spitting on him. One of his arms shone red in the almost-dawn, shards of bone tearing through the skin. The transformation had worn off and his hair glowed in the firelight. His eyes were closed, his head lolling back. If he wasn’t dead, he was at least unconscious.

“No,” I whispered. The dull thud of my erratic heartbeat echoed through my skull. Everything S?ren and I had done together meant nothing if he killed the brothers I was allied with. What the hell was he thinking?

Frode lunged over the drift, knives drawn, and slashed at the Hellbringer. The soldiers in the crowd drew their weapons, but stood back, allowing my brother to attack with no interference. My captor dodged, hauling me out of the way, then twisted me around, placing his familiar blade directly at my throat.

My heart plunged, but I didn’t waver. Of course he’d use me as a hostage—if he’d done anything else, the eyes on us both would’ve turned hostile. Our deception, our partnership, would be known in an instant. I took a shaky breath, determined to play the game and play it well.

This was not S?ren; this was the Hellbringer. And the Hellbringer was an enemy of Bhorglid.

Still, fury tore at my stomach when I thought of Jac’s torture. I resisted the urge to wrench myself from his grasp. “Let Jac go,” I demanded.

“None of you are in any position to bargain,” the Hellbringer said. Father, Erik, and Bjorn were moving to the other side of the snowdrift, weapons ready. Frode shook—whether with anger or overwhelm at the voices he heard, I wasn’t sure. “Would you look at that? The entire royal family of Bhorglid. What a treat.”

My mind warred between panic and steadiness. The Hellbringer wouldn’t kill me. This was a ruse, a way to prevent my father and brothers from discovering my plan to ally with Kryllian before the time was right.

You can trust him, I reminded myself.

But Frode’s wide eyes met mine, his breath coming fast, and he shook his head.

I felt the blood drain from my face. Frode might be the one reading minds, but his message to me was clear as day, etched irrevocably in every terrified line of his face. Despite all the noise in the Hellbringer’s head, Frode had ascertained the general’s intentions.

You cannot trust the Hellbringer. Not anymore.

As I watched my breath shimmer in the rising sunlight, I realized we might not all make it to the Bloodshed Trials.

With a swift tug on the back of my collar, the Hellbringer marched me to where Jac was tied, pushing through his own soldiers as if they weren’t there. They all backed away, eyes filled with something resembling respect—or fear.

The Hellbringer threw me in the snow at Jac’s feet. I scrambled backward, trying to put distance between me and the black-clad figure.

I am not afraid of you.

When I had spoken those words to the Hellbringer, recovering from the injury he’d dealt me, I had meant them. Now, with him towering over me, sword reflecting the dawn, I wasn’t sure if I could say them again.

The soldiers circled me and Jac, unconscious in his bonds. Then chaos erupted.

My father and Bjorn attacked, sending roaring flames into the crowd of soldiers, while Erik picked one up and hauled him over his head, tossing him ten feet like it was nothing. He proceeded to pull another soldier toward him by the arm. The soldier’s scream echoed over the white landscape as his arm was pulled out of its socket.

The Hellbringer turned along with the rest of the soldiers in time to see Frode leap onto a soldier and slice his throat with his wickedly sharp knives. “Leave them alone!” he screamed, lunging for another.

As the army roared to life, drawing weapons to fight back, I took advantage of the general’s distraction and pulled out one of my daggers, slicing through the ties holding Jac to the chair, grunting as I pulled him over my shoulder.

But the Hellbringer turned to reach for his blade and caught sight of us. “No you don’t,” he growled, advancing.

I turned to face him, using my free hand to draw my sword and flip it in the air until I could hold it steady. There was no way I could defeat him like this, not when I had barely managed to best him at full capacity. But honestly? I shouldn’t have had to fight him.

“What the hell are you doing?” I growled, uncaring whether I was overheard. “Are you going to kill me and my family? What about the truce?”

He lowered his stance. “You would be hard pressed to remember the meaning of duty.”

The battle raged on behind him. Flames burned away the snow, leaving only charred dirt in their wake, and a giant plume of fire exploded from within the crowd. Screams echoed along the mountains in the distance.

“You call this your duty?” I swung my sword, gesturing at the scene before us. Smoke billowed up in clouds. “Because it’s going to shit.”

His unoccupied hand clenched in a fist. “You know nothing about my duty,” he hissed, and then he lunged.

I was able to block the swing with one hand on my sword. He was holding back despite his words. I shifted Jac’s weight, ignoring the persistent ache building in my shoulder. “That’s all you’ve got?”

He swung again, and by some miracle I stepped out of the way in time. But now he wasn’t pulling punches. I barely had the time or ability to counter each strike. He took our duel to full speed, his strength overwhelming enough that I spent more energy than I wanted to simply not collapsing in the snow.

“Revna!” I could hear Frode calling my name, but looking was not an option. If I lost any degree of focus, the Hellbringer’s blade would carve me to shreds. And Volkan wouldn’t come to heal me this time.

“Was it all a lie?” I snarled, ducking to avoid another slice. My knees screamed as I pushed myself back up to full height, Jac’s weight heavy and limp on my shoulders. My anger fueled me, and I forced it higher, leaving no room for the despair threatening to leave my limbs heavy and evaporating my will to fight. “Did you fake it all to get me on your side?”

His reply was a deep rumble. “I told you, Princess: I don’t lie.”

He lunged, but when I lifted my sword to parry, I stumbled, losing my balance. A flash of panic raced through my veins like lightning. This is it.

But there was a desperate cry and a blur of silver. The clang of metal on metal rang in my ears as I landed in powder, tumbling down a hill and away from the fight, Jac’s deadweight tumbling right behind me. When gravity stopped pulling me, I looked up to see my savior.

Frode stood there, his two knives locked against the Hellbringer’s blade, panting with the effort of holding his attacker back. His red hair shone in the light of the rising sun.

I made sure Jac was breathing, then scrambled to my feet, ready to strike at the Hellbringer again. Crawling up the drift proved harder than it looked. My feet slipped in the wet snow, stained with Jac’s blood. Still, I kept an eye on the battle above me.

But the Hellbringer and Frode were motionless, their blades locked. My brother stared, brows furrowed, into the unseeing eyes of the mask. Why weren’t they fighting?

Frode stepped back and dropped his knives. Even his opponent was shocked.

“Frode, what are you doing?” I screamed. I dug my feet in harder, trying to make it to the top.

“I understand,” Frode called out. The Hellbringer lowered his guard for a moment. Frode glanced at me. His mouth moved, but the words were spoken too low to be heard. My brother held out his arms.

No. No, no, no…I hurled a dagger and it bounced off the Hellbringer’s armor. The masked general stared at my brother for a moment, and then offered a single nod.

“No!” The scream echoed from me, shaking the mountains surrounding us.

But it wasn’t enough to stop the Hellbringer from extending his hand, palm toward Frode, and then clenching it into a fist.