Joden collapsed, free of restraint but drained of strength as the dead used him in a way he didn’t understand. Like an open door, the snows blew through him and out of him and the dead spirits within their bodies shrieked and turned toward Hail Storm, arms reaching with sharp rotting fingers.
“No, no,” Hail Storm snarled, scrambling back. He glared at Joden as Joden raised his head. “They come through you,” he spat. Hail Storm raised his stump high. “Aid me,” he cried out.
With strong sweeps of its wings, a wyvern rose in the air. It hissed as it leaped forward to Hail Storm’s side, its stinger dripping foul poison. It swept its head in front of Hail Storm, knocking aside the dead that threatened him.
“Now,” Hail Storm crowed. “Now I will have you.”
Joden found himself locked in again, unable to move. Hail Storm approached, his dagger out, his eyes gleaming in anticipation.
A hawk cried above them, clear and loud.
“What now?” Hail Storm demanded, turning, shielding his eyes from the sun.
Joden managed to look up, blinking against the glare.
To see Amyu, on an airion, plunging down from out of the sun.
“A-a-Amyu?” Joden gaped at the sight, certain he was dreaming.
The airion struck the wyvern, sharp claws digging into its back. Amyu had a shield in one hand and reins in the other. She sat boldly in the saddle, as calm as she could be, a warrior in every sense of the word. Strong, confident, with a look of grim determination.
Joden’s heart swelled, even as it beat faster in fear for her.
The wyvern heaved, no longer guarding Hail Storm as it lashed out at the weight on its back. The tail arched in, but Amyu blocked it with her shield. It hit with a resounding clang.
The wyverns around the lake stirred, taking notice.
The wyvern whipped its head back, but the airion clung on. After a moment of struggle Amyu barked a command.
The airion sank its beak into the wyvern’s spine and snapped it in half.
The wyvern collapsed.
“No,” Hail Storm roared, but it was too late. The dead warrior-priests were on him, reaching, grasping, pulling. He screamed once, a high-pitched wail of terror.
Joden staggered back, and watched in horror as they tore Hail Storm to pieces. In their midst, the one Hail Storm had called Mist stood triumphant, the stone-handled dagger raised in her fist.
Joden was conscious of Amyu landing close by, and dismounting. But it was the dead that had his attention, the dead souls in dead bodies, who turned to him now.
“My thanks,” he said.
“Our thanks, Seer,” came a great whisper and a wave of gratitude.
“Return now,” he commanded. “The snows await, and beyond, the stars.”
There was a sigh, first of reluctance and then acceptance. The bodies staggered back to the pits, and began to crawl within.
“Joden,” Amyu was tugging his arm.
The last Joden saw was Mist and the dagger disappearing into the dark earth, and the sod replacing itself.
“Joden, come back to me,” Amyu’s voice sounded desperate, and there was another sound of a beak clattering. She was kneeling beside him, the scent of her hair surrounding him as he looked into her worried eyes.
“Beloved,” his heart leaped as he reached up and took her help to stand. “B-b-beloved—”
“No time,” Amyu jerked her chin toward the lake.
Wyverns hopped toward them from the lake, their wings half out with young ones underfoot, their long necks weaving back and forth, staring.
