Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 125422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Guess he’s on our side after all.
But the wards are small, just enough to protect my father and those of us standing around him, leaving everyone else in the open. The soldiers along the castle walls cry out, losing arrows, lowering spears. Gunshots fill the air, along with the sound of steel on bone, splintering wood, and the eerie clamor of the undead army. I draw my sword, adrenaline flooding me. I know I’m protected where I am, but I also want to get out there and fight.
To our right, I see Tapio raise his arms, and roots slither from beneath the snow, entangling skeletons in knots. Tellervo calls upon the birds, sending a flurry of sparrows into the enemy ranks, their murmuration enough to blind them.
Vellamo tries something with water, summoning a mist from the swamp’s edges. It drifts toward the enemy, obscuring their vision. Some skeletons stumble, confused, while others slip on the ice, but it’s not enough.
I break through the ward, to which my father yells at me to stay. I ignore him as I leap down a short staircase to the courtyard, joining a group of soldiers. Their eyes widen as I stand with them—the daughter of Death, fighting at their side. I nod, and we push forward, meeting a skeleton as it tries to climb the wall. My blade flashes, cutting through bone, dismembering them. The skeleton collapses into a heap, but another takes its place.
Above us, I see my father raise his hands. The snow intensifies again, pushing a thick curtain of white toward the enemy lines. Wind howls and some skeletons fall, but there are so many enemies. Too many.
Torben, frantic now, tries again to unfreeze the swamp. I see him muttering spells, the runes on his staff flaring bright and then dimming. It’s as if something, or someone, resists him. Perhaps it’s the staff itself. After all, he found it in this castle. It might be working against him; the ice remains solid, giving the enemy stable ground to charge on.
An Eldritch-like horror slams into the castle’s outer gate, splintering wood. Soldiers rush to reinforce with shields and spears as I climb the stairs again, needing a vantage point. I see Rasmus stepping away from Torben. For a moment, I think he’s going to run, but then he looks at me, swallows hard, and picks up a long pole with a hooked blade at the end. With shaking hands, he pushes it through a gap in the wall, hooking a skeleton’s spine and yanking it off the ledge. The skeleton falls with a clatter. It’s a small gesture, but it shows he has chosen our side.
For now.
The Magician finally appears, gliding to the end of the platform. I watch him raise a hand, and a swirl of starlight flickers beneath his hood. Suddenly, a section of the enemy line falters, as if they’ve stepped into quicksand. Skeletons sink, their bony arms flailing as his black universe pulls them down. One of the Old Gods lurches sideways, distracted, and our archers take advantage, firing a volley that shatters several undead skulls.
Still, they keep coming.
The Finnish troops—these mortal warriors—fight bravely. I see them in the courtyard, shoulder to shoulder, faces grim. They thrust spears into rib cages, smash shields into skulls, blast bodies apart with close-range gunfire, but they’re also casualties to the undead. Some fall, their screams cut short, and my heart clenches. These soldiers are dying to protect this place, to protect us, and they’re going straight to Hell. I have to do something, have to fight harder than this.
I leap into the fray, slicing through bone, dodging a blade as it whistles past my ear.
High above, a flying skeleton unicorn dives at me, its horn aimed like a spear. I roll aside at the last moment, the creature’s horn scraping stone, leaving a trail of sparks. I lunge upward, slashing at its bony flank. It screeches and flaps away, missing one of its rear leg-bones.
We can’t last forever like this. We need Torben’s spell. The plan was to unfreeze the swamp and send half their army plunging into the Oblivion below. Without that, we’re overwhelmed. I see General Pekka shouting orders, rallying troops, sweat and blood staining his face. He’s fighting two skeletons at once, hacking them apart, but an Old God, a towering beast of molten rock and fire, lowers a fist of stone on top of him, crushing his head.
General Pekka is reduced to a pancake of blood.
My stomach twists. We are losing people. We are losing ground.
“Torben!” I shout over the din. “We need that swamp broken now!”
He grits his teeth, eyes blazing. “Something resists me,” he calls back. “I need more help.”
“Drop the staff!” I yell, but it’s swallowed up by the noise.
I look around frantically. Who can help him? Ilmarinen. If anyone can assist with complex magic, it’s him. The only problem is, I don’t think he’ll be able to keep the ward going at the same time.