Page 13 of Warlords, Witches & Wolves

“Why?” Caraway asked. Clarke was psychic. Had she seen some reason that he’d be needing to take a detour home?

Aeron shrugged. “Who knows with Clarke? I’m guessing she’ll want to meet you there before you come here.”

Caraway nodded his gratitude, braced, and then headed through the portal.

Leaf reminded Caraway as he left, “Just reconnaissance.”

* * *

The Ice-Forest was aptly namedfor the trees of frozen water. Clear crystalline trunks four hand-spans wide stretched high into the blue sky. Icicle leaves swayed and tinkled with the arctic breeze as Caraway navigated the only path available. The portal had taken him to the brink of the forest. It was either head backward over a vast icy tundra, or deep into the forest. It made sense the Ice-Witch would live in a frozen forest—he hoped—and not the barren tundra.

But the further he trekked, the more doubt crept into his mind. Every few hundred feet, he picked up a new worrying sign that things weren’t going according to Anise’s plan.

Specks of blood were stark against the ice. At first, the drops looked like they’d come from a scratch, or a shallow wound, but then he came to a place in the path where ice had chipped away from trunks, the ground was littered with fallen icicle leaves, and the tiny red droplets arced in a line as though someone had been cut and blood had spurted. With each passing minute, he stared at the blood spatter, his chest constricted painfully until it felt like his ribcage squashed his heart.

Anisehadto be okay.

He wouldn’t accept another outcome.

A screech shook the leaves and a shower of ice rained down on Caraway’s head. He released Justice and crouched into a battle stance, ears straining, and eyes searching the sky. A light shadow blocked the sun. Then another, and another. Screeching grew in timbre. More powdered ice dropped from the trees.

What’s up there?

Air trembled.

Crushed shards of leaves fell to the ground, hitting his shoulders.

Glamor was a common tool in the fae arsenal, and whatever hunted him could be using it to hide from sight. Then again, it could also be a camouflage system of the beasts. Caraway closed his eyes and focused on senses other than sight. He let the air enter his lungs, held, and then exhaled slowly. Through it all, his ears strained and he sent out a blanket of magic to surround him. Whether it was his pacifist roots or something the Well had gifted him during his initiation ceremony, Caraway had learned that as a Guardian, he excelled in protective spells, including casting forcefields around his body—or the baby he’d saved.

Any being entering his immediate surroundings would trigger his alarm system, and he’d know where to strike.

All he had to do was wait.

So he breathed, and he listened, and he sensed. Like trying to catch a fish, he waited for a thrumming ping down the line he’d cast.

Ping.

He spun and thrust Justice into a solid ice wall. An ear-piercing shriek rattled his bones, and a crashing sound like breaking glass followed. When he opened his eyes, he paused from the sheer shock of what he saw. A broken sculpture of a gargoyle made from ice, not stone. But he could’ve sworn it had been moving through the air, rattling the leaves of the trees enough to shatter them.

Caraway nudged the large broken chunks of solid ice with his sword. No blood, just a clear crystalline body through and through. If he’d needed any evidence the witch was creating mana-warped monsters, this could be it. Except... the ice would melt soon, and there would be nothing left. He needed more.

The ice also meant the blood he’d seen on the way had indeed belonged to Anise.

He was still lost in thought when he heard another screech, only then remembering that he’d heard more than one creature calling earlier. A thud behind him had him tensing. He gripped the hilt of his sword painfully. A bloom of white breath ghosted over his shoulder. He whirled, ready to strike, and came face to face with another angry ice-gargoyle. It opened its jaws, screeched again. Its white breath turned putrid and green.

Was it... poison?

Dark spots swam before his eyes. He tried to swing at the beast, knowing the magic-nulling properties of his sword would help, but staggered like a drunk to the floor where everything went dark.

Too late.

His last thought was of Anise’s sassy smile.

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