steadily, still managed to avoid the blow by slipping around to the back of the monster’s knee.
What he needed was an ax to hack off the leg. But all he had was a sword. Broomstick wrapped his own legs tightly around the creature’s, held his left side with his arm, and started to saw at the ice with his sword hand.
The ice monster bellowed. It kicked out its leg and sent Broomstick flying off. He landed with a thud, and he skidded on the slick ground toward the lake.
No!
Broomstick dug his sword into the frozen ground to stop his momentum. He slid right into the blade, just inches from the water. The sword cut into his flesh, and even more blood dribbled out of him, two streams of red trickling into the lake.
Small waves began to form on the surface, and the water lapped farther up the shore, as if it were hungry for another body and mind to consume.
He clambered backward and yanked his sword from the ground.
Behind him, the heavy footsteps of the ice monster advanced, bouncing the cave floor with each stomp. It wouldn’t take much this time for the creature to knock Broomstick into the water. Just a flick of its gargantuan finger, and Broomstick would be done for.
He scrambled to where his and Sora’s bags were. The monster blew its rotten breath, and frost coalesced around Broomstick, beginning to surround him in a fence of ice. If he didn’t figure out something fast, he’d be set adrift on an iceberg into the lake and left to die.
What can I do, though? Owls he could handle, but this? It wasn’t as simple as setting up a bomb in the ceiling to block off a single tunnel.
But while Sora hadn’t wanted to hurt the owls, Broomstick had no such reservations about this icicle abomination.
Instead of blowing up a tunnel, he could try to blow up the monster itself.
The fence around him was now up to his chest. If he was going to have a chance, he had to take it fast. Broomstick riffled through the bags for bombs. Sora had taken a bunch of them and he’d used a handful earlier, but surely those weren’t all they had? He thought he’d packed a lot more.
The first bag was full of fish jerky and canteens of water. He ransacked a second one and found his small chest made of reinforced steel. He unlatched and opened it carefully.
Inside, cradled neatly inside padded compartments, were dozens of bombs of various shapes, sizes, and potency. “Hello, you beautiful things.” He weighed a few in his hands and picked one with a good amount of heft.
The monster ripped an icicle the size of a stalactite off the roof of the cavern and hurled it at Broomstick. It landed with a sharp rasp and embedded itself just six inches to his left. A second later, another giant icicle flew toward him. This one landed right next to the first.
“I know you’re trying to kill me,” Broomstick said, “but this is actually helpful. Thank you.” He grabbed hold of the ice post and hauled himself up, gritting his teeth as the wound in his shoulder and arm throbbed. The blood hadn’t stopped; the snow beneath him was splattered with crimson. But he kept going through the excruciating pain until he pulled himself up to the top of the ice barrier.
Then Broomstick tossed the bomb in the air and hit it with his sword as if they were a ball and bat.
The bomb collided with the monster’s chest and exploded on impact, ripping the ice heart apart like glacial shrapnel.
Unfortunately, the force of the blast also blew Broomstick backward.
Nines!
He splashed into the shallow part of the water near shore. The sharp ice that formed the lake bottom scraped his knees as Broomstick tried to crawl out.
But the frigid water already had a taste of his blood, and the lake pulled at him greedily, lapping against him and rocking him away from its shore. Broomstick took a last breath before the milky white clouded his vision, and then he gave in to the water’s embrace.
Chapter Thirty
Sora tumbled through the trap door. She’d meant to swim, but the water stopped abruptly at the threshold, as if held back by an invisible barrier. She scraped her hands and knees on the gravel floor, and she filled her lungs with warm, humid air almost too thick to breathe.
When her lungs had stopped aching from being so close to oxygenless,