Page 105 of Shadows of Winter

A choking sound followed the gasp, then a growl and a thump. Finally, the faint rasp of a sword being drawn.

Kaylina dropped to her hands and knees by the hole.

Just like in her visions, a thick vine had snaked out of a stone wall to grab Targon around the neck from behind. Like a viper.

Sword in hand, he hacked at it, but the sharp blade barely nicked the rubbery green vine.

Kaylina drew her knife and was about to jump down but, on a whim, she grabbed the ladle, spooned up the honey mixture, and flung it at the vine.

“Suck that down, plant,” she growled and swung down, landing in a crouch.

Targon had twisted about so he could swing more effectively at the vine, but it still had him by the neck. Kaylina rounded him so she wouldn’t be in the way of his sword arm and lunged in with her knife. She stabbed the vine near the wall, thinking it might be weaker there. But the blade didn’t cut in. In addition to being tough and rubbery, the vine was slick from her water.

“So much for that idea,” she said.

Rustling came from above—the vines that hung through the hole stirring. Would they jump into the fray? Grab her as well?

Kaylina stabbed again, afraid Vlerion would blame her if Targon died at her feet. He might think she’d colluded with the curse—or the Virts somehow—and that she’d wanted this.

Stabbing harder, she nicked the vine, but it didn’t let go. Targon, his face turning red, had more luck. His slashes weren’t wild and frantic but precise as he methodically struck it up and down, seeking a weak spot.

Unfortunately, the vine didn’t seem to have weaknesses. It had grown straight out of the stone. How could that be?

Footsteps pounded on the staircase, and Kaylina whirled, afraid of who—or what—might show up next.

Vlerion ran into view, cursing when he saw his captain in trouble. For a second, that savage glint entered his eyes, and Kaylina worried the beast would erupt. If it did, going by what his mother had said, it might not only destroy the vine but kill Targon and her.

Vlerion started humming as he ran. By the time he reached his captain, sword swinging toward the vine like an executioner’s axe, his calm mask had taken over his face.

Kaylina backed away so the men would have room to wield their blades. Since he wasn’t constrained by a vine around his neck, Vlerion’s movements were freer and more effective. Or maybe he was simply stronger. His sword cut deeper into the vine, and, on the third stroke, he cleaved it in half.

Targon dropped his blade and grabbed at the end wrapped around his neck. As if that part of the vine was alive independent of the rest, it continued to squeeze. Targon’s face turned redder and redder. His earlier methodology abandoned, he clawed at it, desperate to pull it off as his end neared.

Vlerion raised his sword, slashing again. Though careful not to cut Targon, he came alarmingly close. The blade sliced deeply into the vine, less than an inch from his captain’s neck.

It weakened, giving slightly as Targon continued to pull. Vlerion dropped his sword and grabbed the vine with his bare hands. He ripped it away from Targon’s neck.

The captain collapsed to his knees, wheezing as he gasped for air. Vlerion rested a hand on his back and looked at Kaylina.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes. It didn’t attack me.”

“Because she’s not a ranger,” Targon rasped.

Vlerion opened his mouth, a yet forming, but he glanced at the walls and didn’t voice it.

Yes, Kaylina would prefer the curse not know she was training for that…

“If any other man had been swinging that close to my throat with a sword,” Targon said, knuckles pressed into the floor for support, “I would have wet myself.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t do that when the vine first wrapped around your neck.” Vlerion looked around. “It is damp here.”

“That’s the girl’s honey water.”

“If you say so.”

They shared grim laughs and thumped each other’s fists.

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