Chapter 414: Panic
Only seconds had passed since Hauke made his first move, and among the wagons, carriage doors slammed open while soldiers shook themselves out of their shock and began to rush forward.
Standing beside one of the carriages, Emmie looked on in horror as shards of coldly glittering ice rained down on Lady Heila. While her thick, fur cloak saved her from many of the shards, others sliced through the sleeves of her dress and skirt and even ricocheted off her horns, cutting into her scalp and splattering the crisp white snow beneath her with a lurid wave of hot crimson blood.
"No, no, don’t hurt her! Father," Emmie cried out, tears forming in her eyes as she tried to understand why this was happening. Just a few hours ago, Lady Heila had told her that if she did her duties well, she would introduce her to the young Frost Walker lord who would likely be the next ruler of the High Pass. But now, nothing made sense at all as that very same young lord looked at Heila with a dark, murderous expression, unleashing a storm of deadly sorcery.
Looking to the driver’s seat, her father Kurtz was already preparing to rush to Heila’s defense, but as he collected his sword and buckler, he seemed like he was moving far too slowly to the young and panicked squire.
"Father, save her!" Emmie cried.
As much as he wanted to reassure her, Kurtz spared no words for his daughter as he carefully gauged the distance before jumping down from the carriage and rushing to help the injured witch, but by the time he moved, several others were already rushing past him.
On the opposite side, blood drained from Ritchel’s face as he heard the same ancient voices that had spoken through Hauke during the council meeting once again echoing from his son’s mouth. Old Svenja had said then that they couldn’t blindly accept the sorcery used to preserve those ancient horns. She and Commander Jannik had both argued that they horns should be placed within an ancestral cave, even if that meant that the presence of the ancestors might dissipate within a year.
Now, horror gripped his heart with icy claws as he realized that those long-dead ancestors were capable of doing far more than simply borrowing his son’s body to speak. Already, Nyrielle’s forces were gathering to attack, and if he didn’t act quickly, his son’s life would likely be forfeit before they could save him from the very ancestors he’d fought so hard to preserve.
"Men, to me!" Ritchel shouted to his honor guard. His voice boomed across the ice, snapping his men out of their own shock and drawing them instantly into defensive postures surrounding the Eldritch Lord of the High Pass. "Combine your sorcery with mine," he commanded. "Form a tomb of ice!"
In the center of the storm, Ashlynn’s emerald eyes hardened as she realized something strange had come over Hauke. Seeing the different voices that spilled from his lips and seeing the imperious, arrogant demeanor that couldn’t be further removed from the humble, kind, and eager young sorcerer she remembered, combined with the eerie, glowing horns strapped to his chest, only made it clearer.