Free Frost by Robin W Bailey

greedy soul!'
    â€œTordesh reddened with rage. Seeds of madness blossomed suddenly in his bent mind. ‘You and all your city are a mirage!'
    â€œThe young king spurred his horse over the causeway, gripping the saddle with his knees, swinging his blade at nonexistent foes, raving, cursing the world.
    â€œOn the wall the figure drew from the folds of his cloak a single arrow and a bow of black wood. Every eye watched in horrified silence as the arrow was fitted to the string and drawn slowly back. The feather touched the ear. For a long moment there was no movement. Then, the archer released the string. The deadly missile plunged through the air and buried itself deep in the heart of Tordesh's splendid white horse.
    â€œThe unfortunate beast tumbled forward, spilling his unwary rider head over heels. Tordesh gave a cry as his father's sword clattered over the edge, lost in the Cocytus. He struggled to his knees, bruised in a thousand places, his right shoulder smashed. But the worst pain was the humiliation he saw reflected in the eyes of his men.
    â€œBitterly, he turned and cursed the guardian on the wall.
    â€œ'Turn back, Tordesh,’ the archer said. ‘Turn away from Hell.'
    â€œDismayed, the Rholarothan king skulked back to Zondu. His soldiers parted to let him pass, then followed, bowed, broken with defeat.
    â€œLegends claim he shut himself up in his palace and was never seen again. The governing of the nation he left to his commanders, and when he died, shamed and disgraced, not a soul mourned.” Kregan licked his lips as he finished his tale.
    Frost took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “An interesting story,” she said at last.
    â€œA true one,” the Chondite answered sullenly. “Whatever my friend told you, Chondos is no place for faint hearts. Many strange things walk that land, things to make your darkest nightmares pale in comparison."
    Scarlet heat rose in her cheeks. “Not my nightmares.” Embarrassed then, she slapped the unicorn's rump and sped down the ridge over the Zondaur .
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    Chapter Five
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    Sunset stained the land with a dark crimson hue. Streamers of iodine and purple clouds laced the sky, wispy fingers that did nothing to hold back night's progress.
    Frost waved a weary hand at the horde of insects that buzzed around her face, in her ears. The plain that fostered no other life was a home for countless varieties of insects: ants, beetles, roaches, but most especially, gnats. Great swarms, they hung like thick curtains over the rocky soil. Man and animal suffered alike. Attracted to the sweat of their bodies, the gnats had bedeviled them all afternoon.
    Nothing to do but bear it and try not to breathe too often—or swallow.
    â€œIt gets colder with nightfall,” Kregan called. “They'll go away, then."
    She took no comfort in that. With the coming of darkness she feared a new attack by Zarad-Krul. They had beaten him once, but she would not count on such luck a second time.
    They had not made good speed. The animals were tired. So was she. Her thighs ached painfully from too much riding, her half-numb fingers tangled in Ashur's mane. No rest during the day, they walked and rode alternately, pushing for Chondos.
    It was not much farther.
    She clutched the Book of the Last Battle inside her tunic as she had several times that day and regarded the sky. The last rays of light retreated; the first star hovered low in the east.
    He will come . She gripped the Book with a ferocity that made her knuckles crack. He will come, and we will not be ready .
    â€œGive no more thought to the wizard,” advised Kregan suddenly. “There stand the walls of Zondu."
    Her heart lifted as she stared, straining to see where her companion pointed. Only a patch of deeper darkness on the plain, she marveled that he had seen it at all.
    â€œNot sight,” he answered, tapping his nose. “Smell."
    She sniffed. There was a