Winter Warriors Read Free Page A

the queen’s bedroom. Axiana was asleep, lying on her back, one white slender arm curled around asatin pillow. Ulmenetha smiled. Only a few years before that arm had, in the same manner, cuddled a stuffed toy—a woolen lioness with only one glass eye.
    Now Axiana was a child no longer.
    Ulmenetha sighed. Despite her bulk the priestess moved silently across the royal bedroom, casting an affectionate look at the pregnant Axiana. The queen’s face shone in the moonlight, and in sleep Ulmenetha could just discern the child she had grown to love. “May your dreams be rich and joyful,” she whispered.
    Axiana did not stir. The fat priestess reached the window balcony and stepped out into the moonlight. Her white-streaked blond hair shone like silver beneath the stars, and her voluminous nightdress of white cotton shimmered, as if turned to silk. There was a marble-topped table set on the balcony, and four chairs. Easing herself down, she untied her rune pouch and placed it on the table. Ulmenetha gazed up at the night sky. All she could see with the eyes of her body were the stars, shining bright. To her left a crescent moon seemed to be balancing precariously on the uppermost tower of the Veshin temple. Closing the eyes of her body, she opened the eyes of her spirit. The stars remained, brighter and clearer now, robbed of the twinkling illusion caused by human astigmatism and the earth’s atmosphere. Tall mountains could clearly be seen on the faraway face of the crescent moon. But it was not the night sky Ulmenetha wished to see.
    Above the palace three scaled forms were hovering.
    For weeks now their malevolent presence had kept her chained to her flesh, and she longed to fly free. But the last time she had tried, they had come for her, screeching across the sky. Ulmenetha had barely made it back to her body.
    Who had summoned them, and why?
    Closing her eyes, she loosened the drawstring of her rune pouch and reached inside, her fingers stroking the stones within. They were smooth and round and flat, and for a while she continued to stir them. At last one stone seemed to call for her, and she drew it from the pouch. Painted upon it was a cracked goblet. Ulmenetha sat back.
    The Broken Flagon was a stone signaling mistrust. At best it recommended caution in dealings with strangers. At worst it signaled treachery among friends.
    From the pocket of her white dress she produced two leaves. Rolling them into a ball, she placed them in her mouth and began to chew. The juices were acrid and bitter. Pain lanced into her head, and she stifled a groan. Bright colors danced now on the edge of her vision, and she pictured the Broken Flagon, holding to the image and freeing her mind of conscious thought.
    A silver serpent slithered up and around the flagon, slowly crushing it. The flagon suddenly shattered, the pieces exploding outward, ripping through the curtain of time. Ulmenetha saw a tree-shrouded hollow and four men. Axiana was there. Ulmenetha saw herself kneeling beside the queen, a protective arm around her shoulder. The four men were warriors, and they had formed a circle around Axiana, facing outward, ready to fight off some unseen threat. A white crow was hovering over them all, his wings beating silently.
    Ulmenetha sensed a colossal evil about to sweep over the hollow. The vision began to fade. She struggled to hold the image, but it collapsed in upon itself and a fresh scene unfolded. A campfire beside a dark frozen lake stretching between high mountains. A man—a tall man—sitting with his back to the lake. Behind him a dark, taloned hand reached up through the ice, then a demonic form pulled itself clear. It was colossal and winged and stood blinking in the moonlight. The great wings spread wide, and the demon floated closer to the man at the campfire. It extended an arm. Ulmenetha wanted to cry out, to warn him, but she could not. The talons rammed into the back of the seated man. He reared up and screamed once, then