Page 72 of Held

Marigold grunted. Her hands flexed around her staff, ice thickening to cover the cracks Wick had placed in it.

Wick glared at her. He could get out if given enough time. But they needed to break her concentration long enough for him to do so.

“Shit,” Renault hissed. He reloaded the crossbow, but it was too late. Briar was already running at him, her knife poised to strike.

Wick watched helplessly as they clashed, Renault using the crossbow as a blunt weapon as he attempted to load it. Briar dodged him yet again and drove the knife toward his throat, only to be shoved away by a sharp elbow.

Wick had never seen humans fight with such grace. All his fighting had been savage, half-remembered, and brief. Watching them almost looked like a dance. A horrible, deadly dance he could not tear his eyes away from as Briar grunted and ducked, trying desperately to sink her blade into Renault’s sweaty skin.

Wick attempted to move his arms. The ice strained and cracked around his bulging muscles, only to be replaced by another layer as Marigold braced herself against her staff.

“Help me,” Renault barked as he shoved away yet another of Briar’s knife attacks. “Damn it, witch! Help me or lose your coin!”

Marigold gasped, shaking with effort. “I-I have to hold the spell! Or he’ll get free!”

“He’s covered in ice, what will he do? If you don’t start helping me rightnow—” Renault stopped, bellowing in pain. Briar had finally landed a blow, her knife striking him across the cheek.

Renault stumbled back, wiping his bleeding face.

“Void take you, you rancid whore!” He kicked Briar in the chest, sending her sprawling backward. Then he lurched sideways to grab the bag of gold and threw it mightily, sending it sailing toward the burning bowl from Briar’s ritual, its flames glowing unnaturally.

Marigold screamed. “NO!”

The bag struck the bowl and burst, showering gold into the fire. It immediately began to melt, liquid gold filling the bowl as the flames burned.

Marigold whirled, heaving her staff away from Wick and redirecting her ice efforts toward the bowl. She even staggered toward it, wobbling with exertion.

Wick called on all his strength. He flexed, and the ice cracked around his right arm, then his left. But it still wasn’t enough. Marigold was grabbing the few coins that had fallen out of the bowl, but Renault was growing steadier on his feet.

“Alright,” he panted at Briar. “Now— Hey!”

Briar ran at Wick and slammed the hilt of her knife into the center of his ice-clad chest.

A loudcrackrang through the trees. The ice shattered, falling off of Wick in huge, freezing chunks.

“That’s more like it,” Briar said breathlessly. She slotted her knife back into its holster and asked, “You with me, big boy?”

“Always,” Wick replied.

He kicked the remaining ice off his feet and turned to Renault, who looked like he deeply regretted his actions.

“Now, hold on,” Renault began.

Wick lunged at him. Renault cursed and raised his crossbow, shooting wildly.

The arrow whizzed uselessly over Wick’s head. He knocked the crossbow out of Renault’s hands and pinned him to the ground by his chest. He made sure to press hard on the stabwound Briar had given him in Yedzeva, digging his claws into the surrounding flesh.

Renault cried out in pain. “Wait! Don’t kill me! I can tell them you’re dead, that we can’t recover the body! They trust me, they’ll believe whatever I say!”

Wick looked over at Briar, who hummed consideringly. Her chest was heaving from the fight, but she did not smell wounded. That was good. If she were, Wick would have killed him without waiting for Briar’s permission.

“Or,” Briar said, swiping her sweaty hair out of her face. “We send a letter from your last surviving team member saying you confirmed my death and want the reward, with a strip of my hair as proof?—”

“What?” Renault said weakly.

“But, oh no, you died tragically in an animal attack before you could come to claim it,” Briar continued. “Wick?”

Wick lunged and dug his fangs into Renault’s throat.

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