Winter, White and Wicked - Shannon Dittemore Page 0,98

differences, the Abaki’s arms are close in length and breadth, whereas its legs are so poorly matched the lumbering steps are marked with a dramatic limp.

Its right leg is short and spindly—a child’s leg, possibly. The left is thick and muscled and almost twice as tall. Its torso is made of nothing more than shimmering snow and flecks of kol, a self-contained storm spinning left and then right. It’s what holds him together, the mixture of Winter’s magic and the power of raw kol. Together they turn the Kol Sea’s dead into something far more. Even without a head, this one is dangerous.

“How confident are you in those welds, Hy?”

“They’ll hold, Sessa.”

I press my foot to the gas. The monster senses our movement but it’s too late. It has barely enough time to stumble sideways before the rig strikes the thing, bucket first and then grill. Its body tumbles up and onto the hood. The pale arm dislodges, smacks off the windshield and lands somewhere on the road.

“There are easier ways, Miss Quine.”

Of course he could order Winter to take care of this one. Of course he could attempt to negotiate with it himself—who knows, perhaps Abaki speak Kerce. But both options would deplete his power and there’s no reason. Not yet.

I yank the control that raises the bucket.

“Miss Quine—”

The top lip of the bucket pins the monster’s larger leg to the hood. He has little time to struggle before I slam it down, and he flies into the road. The swirling kol and magic that’s holding him together stutters and vanishes. His remaining three limbs scatter, skittering on the rough rock, tumbling over the cliff.

Hyla leans forward, one hand on the dash. “Is it dead?”

“It was never alive,” Mars says.

Kyn takes a swig from the canteen. “Looked alive.”

“Doesn’t matter. Without arms and legs, they can’t hurt us.” I smack Hyla on the knee. “Now you’ve seen a monster.”

“I’m not impressed,” she says. “I expected a fight.”

Flashes of the past: the monster mounting Drypp, kneeling on his soft belly, pulling at his arm. The sound of bones grinding, of flesh tearing.

“This one was only acting on instinct,” Kyn says. “Once an Abaki has acquired a head, they’re a little more . . .”

“Intelligent?” Hyla asks.

“They’re not alive,” Mars insists.

But Mars didn’t see the kol monster that attacked Drypp and me. He didn’t see the calculation in its eyes.

“Maybe not, but they’re smart. Cunning—the ones with eyes and brains.”

“The intelligence belongs to Winter and Winter alone. Yes, the kol makes things more than they are, but it is just a mineral. It cannot join one limb to another. It cannot give these monsters a will. Only an intelligent being can do that.”

“Up ahead,” Kyn says.

What I originally assume is an opaque patch of fog turns out to be something much more.

Abaki.

It’s hard to tell how many from here, hard to know which of them have two arms and two legs, hard to know which head belongs to which monster, hard to know why unintelligent, purely instinctual scavengers should be working together instead of wrestling one another to the ground to steal limbs.

“Hyla,” Mars says. “The turret gun is working, yes?”

But Hyla’s already moving, reaching overhead to open the hatch.

“Take this,” Kyn says, handing her another stock of twyl. “You have your flint striker?”

“Yes.”

“And close the hatch quickly,” I say. “The kol—”

“Yes, Miss Quine. We know.”

Despite the injury to her shoulder, Hyla’s faster than I anticipate, opening the hatch and pulling herself onto the roof of the cab. A gust of wind blows in, stealing my breath as it strikes me in the chest. I swallow down a mouthful of twyl juice. It’s already losing its flavor; its potency can’t be too far behind.

“Keep her steady, Miss Quine,” Mars says. He offers Hyla his arm and she pulls him up after her.

“Where’s he going? There’s only one gun in that turret.”

“Mars doesn’t need guns,” Kyn says, pulling the hatch shut.

“He doesn’t need to use his Kerce tongue either. We might need it later.”

“I think he has doubts about the Sylver Dragon barreling over a wall of monsters.”

“He doubts the Dragon? Or you do?”

“Not me, little ice witch. I would never.”

Boots pound their way down the trailer and Mars soars into sight.

“How much strength does it sap for him to do that?” I ask.

“I’d imagine it depends on how hard Winter opposes his commands. And how stubborn the Abaki are.”

Kyn and I flinch in unison as Hyla fires off a round from the