Page 141 of Of Iron and Moonlight

Somewhere in the white behind them the garden doors exploded open. Voices spilled into the storm, muffled like distant spirits, as they slipped beyond the castle walls.

The true, ruthless cold of the Niverna Mountains slammed into them. Wind sliced through their cloaks and sank into bone. Elara’s chest burned with effort and frost, but she drove herself onward, teeth clenched, thinking of the queen who would almost certainly pay for aiding them. Tears froze at the corners of her eyes as hope, fear, and the consequences of what they had done settled over her like another layer of ice.

They did not see the beasts at first.

They heard them.

A resonant growl rolled across the snow, vibrating the ground. Then another, closer.

Njall cursed under his breath. “Oorlon’s wolves.” He stepped in front of her and Kalaetzu, blades already in hand, his stance shifting low as a snarl built in his throat.

Two hulking shapes resolved within the storm, advancing slowly, coats nearly blended into the white. Elara bit her lip to hold back the whimper that dared surface.

The nearest wolf lunged.

Steel flashed. A dark line split across its chest and forelegs.

It roared and recoiled.

Snow crunched to her right. Elara turned—too slow. The second wolf was already on her, fangs slick and close enough to see frost crusted along its muzzle.

She screamed, hand diving for the knife at her boot.

Njall slammed into her, knocking her sideways.

Snow exploded as she tumbled. By the time she found her footing he had already thrown out his hand. Air burst from his palm toward the wolf, hurling it across the ice. He staggered once, drained by the abrupt use of magic, then righted himself and drove forward into the storm toward the first.

The second wolf rose again.

It stalked forward.

Then it broke into a charge.

Elara didn’t think. She snatched up her dropped knife and ran to meet it.

Kalaetzu suddenly stepped between them, emerging like a figure carved from fog. He raised a trembling hand, strain carved deep into the lines of his face.

The wolf screamed, a hideous sound. Its legs collapsed beneath it. Its body convulsed, as though something inside had rebelled and begun tearing outward.

Kalaetzu swayed.

Elara caught him before he fell, feeling the tremor racing through him, the backlash of power. Healing magic turned toward destruction demanded double payment.

She lowered him carefully. “Thank you.”

He managed a thin smile.

Elara barely saw it. Her grip tightened on her knife as she searched the storm.

She found Njall as the remaining wolf crashed into him, driving them both to the ground in a brutal tangle of fur, leather, and steel. Somewhere in the struggle, his swords were lost.

He kept fighting. Barehanded.

Elara surged forward, then stopped, knife raised and mind racing with no clean strike.

The wolf’s jaws clamped into Njall’s shoulder.

Njall roared.