Free FROST CHILD (Rebel Angels) by Gillian Philip Page A

my left there was a faint rustle, a skittering slither, and the man behind me gave a yelp of shock and rage. I felt his blood spatter my arm, and then he was cursing to beat the pain.
    ‘Donal?’ I said.
    ‘Fine,’ he snarled.
    He wasn’t, but he’d have to wait. And I wasn’t about to drop my block again to ask him properly.
    The Lammyr giggled again, but I ducked as a thrown blade sliced the air above my head, then rolled back. I caught its bony ankle more by chance than skill, yanked it down hard as it leaped for the unseen ceiling, and snatched for its wrist before it could reach for another blade.
    Gods, it was a strong one. We rolled and struggled in a silent death-grip, and I couldn’t swing my sword-arm, and Donal was evidently out of action. Dropping my sword, I found the Lammyr’s skinny neck with my hands.
    There was mucal blood on its dry papery skin, and I wanted to recoil, but I only shuddered and crushed its throat. I was used to the touch of Lammyr blood after all this time, and it wouldn’t burn me, but it wasn’t pleasant. One of its flailing hands grabbed my own neck, but it was wounded and I wasn’t, and I had the better angle and the better grip. It died with an exasperated rattling sigh.
    They lived to kill, but when it came to the end, they didn’t mind dying. That was always the trouble with Lammyr.
    I stumbled back off it, wiping my hands, then turned to seek out the light of Donal’s eyes. They still glinted in the darkness, though dully.
    ~ So how fine are you really?
    ~ I’d like to see Grian fairly fast. His teeth showed in whatever light seeped from the cavern walls.
    I gripped his arm and hauled him to his feet. Yes, he needed the healer; I could tell from the quantity of blood. I didn’t want to follow this tunnel further anyway. Distant sounds and energetic shouts told me my men were having better luck than Donal and me, and I wanted to rendezvous with them in the deeper heart of this nest. The plan had been to drive the Lammyr from the narrow passageways and into their central quarters. Lammyr, armed and forewarned and lurking in tunnels, were at their most lethal. Herd them to a hall for a fair fight, and you always had a chance of fewer casualties.
    I was eager to get Donal out of the way. I didn’t think he was mortally wounded – not that I’m an expert – but the sooner he got to the healer the happier I’d be, and besides, I wanted to keep an eye on Niall Mor’s back. If he was overenthusiastic he could easily get himself killed.
    I found three of my fighters guarding the entrance I’d used, so I left Donal with them; then I was running down the cleared passageways in the direction of the battle-howls.
    The remaining Lammyr were backed together in a cavern lower down the tunnel system where the air was cold and dank, unwarmed by the feeble light of flames in wall recesses. Each had a blade in its hand but while Niall Mor and his men circled them warily, the leader watched me enter, licking its dry lips and half-smiling.
    ‘Crickspleen,’ I said. ‘Been a while.’
    ‘Hello, Griogair.’ It tossed its curved blade lightly from bony hand to bony hand. No hilts for these creatures; it simply bled where the steel caught its skin, and the colourless drops hissed on the stones at its feet. ‘Safe passage, and we’ll stay away?’
    ‘Oh come on, Crickspleen. We had that deal forty years ago, and here you are again.’
    It shrugged, amused. ‘You were softer forty years ago. Over the Veil, then. We’ll go to the otherworld.’
    I rolled my eyes. ‘You know that isn’t allowed.’
    ‘Oh, of course. That’s why you’ll never find a Lammyr in the otherworld.’ It smirked.
    I bit my lip, eyeing it, while Niall Mor fidgeted beside me.
    ~ Come on, Griogair. Let’s get it done.
    ~ Don’t be in such a rush. ‘What are you defending?’ I asked it abruptly.
    It was a wild shot in the dark, but I saw wariness flicker in its eyes. My hunch was right, then. They