Curious, cautious, we follow the light and find a cavern, bright and high-ceilinged—if you can call the enormous sheet of ice filtering in the sunlight from outside a ceiling. Far above our heads on the frozen roof, zigzagging patterns of windblown snow splash swirling shadows across the cavern floor.
Kato looks up, frowning. “How thick do you think that ice is?”
I scrunch my nose. “Thick enough?”
Voices carry differently in the cavern, amplified by the smooth walls and towering ceiling. When we’re not speaking, it’s quiet enough that I fancy I can hear my own heartbeat echoing back to me from off the sheets of ice.
It’s quiet enough that there’s no mistaking the distinctive twang of a bowstring when it vibrates in my ears.
*
We both duck on instinct, and the arrow slams into the milky-white stalagmite behind us, embedding itself deep in to the mineral deposit.
Kato reaches for me, but another twang sends us diving in opposite directions. I scramble toward another stalagmite, slipping on the ice and skidding beyond my mark. The bowstring hums again, and my right foot gets punched out from under me.
I hit the ground hard on my side and slide. Grunting, I flip onto my stomach and then scrabble back over the ice until I crash into the back side of the mineral tower. Another arrow clatters across the ice just as I snatch in my trailing foot.
“Cat!” Kato is ten feet away, behind a stalagmite that’s not even as wide as his shoulders. “You’re hit!”
A colorfully fletched arrow sticks out from the heel of my boot. “It’s in the sole.” I yank it out and drop it next to me. “I’m fine.”
“Not for long,” a singsongy voice croons from a gallery of caves high up along the opposite wall of the cavern. “You’re oh-so-wrong.”
I take a quick look out from behind my shield, trying to discern the archer’s form. “Atalanta, I presume?”
There’s a pause. “She knows my name. That’s not part of the game.”
Twang. Crack!
She aimed high. I look up and see a huge, lethally sharp icicle speeding toward my head.
I jump out of the way, forced to forsake my shelter. Another arrow flies before I can take cover again and slams into my shoulder.
I gasp, staggering back. Then Kato has me. He shoves us both into the debris of the shattered icicle behind my stalagmite an instant before another arrow skids over the ice where I just stood.
Fuming, I grab the shaft and yank the arrow from my shoulder. Kato looks horrified.
“It hit a buckle. The armor blocked it.” Mostly. Under the tough leather, warm liquid dampens my tunic, making the material cling to the side of my breast.
His eyes close briefly in relief. Then, setting me behind him, he calls, “We’re here on a mission from the Gods. We don’t want any trouble.”
Atalanta laughs. It’s a light, airy sound, like wind through trees. Preternaturally fast, she flits from cave to cave along the far wall. “So handsome. I think I’ll hold you for ransom.”
“What?” I say through gritted teeth.
Kato looks at me. The wariness in his cobalt eyes doesn’t color his arch tone. “Now she can rhyme.”
My jaw drops. “I can rhyme!”
“Live among bears, get covered in hairs!” Atalanta sings.
I roll my injured shoulder, testing it. It stings, but that’s all. “She makes no sense. She’s trying to kill us. We have to get past her.”
Drawing a Kobaloi knife, I rub my thumb over the sinew while I watch the way the archer’s silhouette moves. When I think I’ve nailed down the pattern, I throw the blade into an empty gallery, counting on her to flit through it at the same moment. She does, but she catches the knife, stopping it right in front of her armored chest before twirling back into the shadows.
I blink. Titos and now this? Those Kobaloi knives were the worst purchase of my life!
Atalanta pops into the next cave, flips my knife in her hand, and then throws it back. The blade sticks in a mini stalagmite an inch from my foot. I jerk back, thumping mad.
“It’s not with a knife that you’ll take my life.”
I pry my knife free and then sheathe the blade again.
Twang. Crack!
Kato yanks me against him and spins to the side as another icicle falls from the roof and smashes down next to us. Shattered ice blasts our legs and scatters in a chiming wave.
“Nock an arrow, hit the marrow,” Atalanta chants, letting another bolt fly.
Too late, I realize Kato isn’t entirely behind the stalagmite anymore. He slaps his hand over his neck, right at the base of his skull.