Gunmetal Magic(116)

“You’re done for now,” Kate said.

The undead raised his head, its face bloody. His mouth moved, and I saw the leathery cords of his facial muscles slide and contract. Ugh.

Its voice was chilling, hoarse, and ancient. “I know you. I know your scent.”

Kate stared it straight in his face. “I brought you blood ale for a boon.”

“Foolish meat. Foolish, foolish meat.”

The draugr went down for the ale.

“No,” Kate snapped.

The draugr leaned on the stone. “I’m Håkon, son of a jarl, scourge of the seas, devourer of flesh. What is it you want, meager meat?”

“I want to see your shield,” Kate said.

The draugr turned his head. “My shield?”

“The shield you bore when you sailed here from Vinland to take the gold from the Southern Tribes.”

“The skrælingar,” the draugr said.

“Yes. The skrælingar. You took two ships and came looking for it, remember?”

“I remember…” The draugr’s voice carried. “I remember everything. Birds with wings that covered half the sky. I remember skrælingar magic. I remember the arrow in my back. I remember my corpse left to rot.”

“Do you remember your shield?” Kate insisted.

The draugr dipped his head toward the ale.

Kate clenched the runes. “If you want the ale, you will let me see your shield.”

An evil cold fire flared in the draugr’s eyes and dripped from his face in burning tears. “I will devour you. I will lick your bones clean and crush them between my teeth. I will suck the marrow…”

“That’s nice,” Kate said. “The shield.”

“Fine, meat. Here it is.”

The earth by the stone bulged upward, split, belching roots and smaller rocks. A curved wooden edge emerged, rising higher and higher, until the entire round shield broke free of the ground. In the middle of it sat an oblong, ridged yellow scale, pinned to the wood by metal bars. It was two feet long.

Two feet. What kind of snake had two-foot-long scales?

“Here is my shield, meat.”

“Do you remember how I came to you with an honest bargain last time and you broke it?” Kate asked.

The draugr laughed. It was a cold, hollow sound.

“Turnabout is fair play,” Kate said.

I grabbed the shield and ran.

The draugr howled, shaking the forest. Roman’s voice barked something in Russian. Raphael snarled.

Mist chased me, snaking its way down the mountain, trying to catch my ankles. I flew down the path.

Magic punched my back. I flew a few feet, hit the ground in a tight ball, rolled to my feet, and kept running. Just aftershocks. Kate must’ve used a power word, her own special brand of magic. It nearly wiped her out—they were her last resort.

You won’t escape me, an icy voice whispered in my ear. Run all you want, meat. Run faster.

Every hair on my body stood on end.

I leaped over a root. The mist snapped like a whip and wound around my neck in a noose. It jerked me off my feet. I flew back, clawing at the tentacle of magic with one hand, clenching the shield with my right. I hit the ground on my back and the magic pulled me, scraping my skin over the roots.

Oh no, you don’t. I growled and grabbed a branch with my left hand.

The magic yanked me backward, crushing my throat. Black circles swam before my eyes.

I planted my feet and forced myself up. Every muscle in my body strained.

The magic pulled.

I pushed forward. Step. Another step. No asshole undead would drag me back. No. Not happening.

The magic tore.

I pitched forward and rolled, head over feet, curving my body around the shield, hitting every obstacle with soft parts of me, as if someone had stuck me into a dryer with a bag of rocks.

I crashed into a tree. The world swam a bit. I scrambled up. The shield lay in shambles at my feet, all except for the scale, which didn’t have a scratch on it.

A dark icy shadow fell on the trees next to me.

I grabbed the scale and spun around. Something white was falling, so I thrust the scale up in front of it and crouched underneath.

Foot-long spikes of ice sank into the ground around me, hammering the scale. I held the scale until the impacts stopped and dashed down the slope. Magic exploded all around me in cold bursts, rattling the teeth in my skull. The harsh stench of rot filled my mouth. Around me the trees groaned, as if pulled upright by an invisible hand. My throat burned.

I shot out onto the road.

The stone pillars loomed far in the distance to my right. I sprinted to them. My ribs were screaming in pain.

The trees creaked behind me. The draugr had made it onto the road.

My feet barely touched the ground. The draugr’s magic iced my back.

Something whistled through the air and a body hit the road in front of me, hurled by a supernatural force. Roman. The volhv wasn’t moving. I guess the binding didn’t work after all.