Palace of Silver (The Nissera Chronicles #3) - Hannah West Page 0,139
was still the metal shield, lodged halfway in the snow. But it was no longer steel and crest-shaped, a discarded piece of enemy armor. Instead, it was round and golden as the sun.
I stretched to claim it, seizing its rim and raking it over the snow toward me. “That’s not going to save you,” Ambrosine said through a laugh, her voice echoing from somewhere distant.
The strap settled over my hand, a perfect fit, supple and warm beneath my touch. Ambrosine lifted her armored foot to strike me hard in the face. I swung up the shield to block her, expecting it to dent or break or crumble to dust just like my sword.
But it held.
“Where did you get that?” Ambrosine demanded, panic rising, as though she could just now see the glow of magic beaming from the shield. I heard the overlap of Nexantius’s deep voice with hers. Perhaps, for the first time, the Fallen felt he had something to fear.
My gaze shot to the other golden glow, the distant one. Blood clogged my airways and my eyes were beginning to swell, but if I could just make it there, to that light, I knew what I would find.
Gritting my teeth, I drove the shield at Ambrosine, shoving her out of the way as I rose up.
I ran, leaping over fallen soldiers, kicking up bloody snow. I stumbled, but I saw that the light awaiting me in the distance had taken the shape of a sword, and I pressed on. The hilt was the same ordinary one I’d carried into battle and abandoned when Ambrosine shattered the blade. But the blade had regenerated, like a Healer’s gift regrowing a severed limb. The new one glowed as if fresh from the forge, the glaring gold of pure power.
I heard Ambrosine calling out behind me. I lunged for the sword, scooped up the hilt, and found it lightweight and easy to wield despite its massive size. Like two old friends meeting, the golden sword and shield belonged as a pair.
My strength and hope renewed, I whirled just in time to block Ambrosine’s incoming blow with the shield. I swiped the sword and she ducked. I swiped again and she evaded, but this time she stumbled and fell on her back in the snow. She had never been a fighter.
“Glisette, wait!” she cried, but her voice did not belong to her. It was Nexantius who cried out. They were one and the same.
The crisp sound of snow beneath my boots seemed deafening as I stepped up and stood over her. I raised the golden sword and, in spite of her protests, I jammed it deep into her chest.
A piercing, horrid scream tore over the battlefield.
Ambrosine’s body quaked. Her flesh and bone wrestled with itself until she choked and a black substance dribbled from her lips. She gagged and coughed out more of the dark bile, which collected in a pool and sank into the snow like ink.
Her silver armor turned to sparkling dust and blew away. The liquid silver drained from her eyes, leaving them blue green and fearful.
I yanked my sword from her chest. It left no visible wound.
The Mathis-creature came tearing out from the trees, slinging gore as it charged at me. I tossed the hilt to change my grip and threw the weapon like a spear. It sank deep into the gaping mouth in his belly and shot back out, the hilt landing squarely in my grip.
Another scream, another convulsion, and both of the creature’s mouths spat out black bile. Robivoros retreated, leaving Mathis gaunt, pale, and shuddering.
Kadri jogged toward us and shot an arrow straight through his throat.
Mathis collapsed, never to rise again.
Ambrosine palmed away the black bile from her lips and knelt. “Glisette,” she whispered. “What’s happened? I don’t remember anything. I only recall a dark haze—”
“Stop lying!” I roared.
“I’m not—”
“You have terrorized the people of Perispos. Your time is done.”
I raised my sword to strike her down, but I couldn’t bring myself to deal the final blow, to end her life.
I saw Devorian out of the corner of my eye. He stopped in his tracks. He could have said a spell, almost any spell, to finish her. Yet he couldn’t do it either.
Now I understood why Ambrosine had commanded Sev to murder me instead of doing it herself.
But Navara stepped out from the trees, her fur cloak and cropped black hair catching the wind. She unsheathed her sword and approached Ambrosine from behind.