Frostbite, p.1
Frostbite, page 1
Frostbite
Book Two of the Iron Altar Series
Casey Lea
© Casey Lea 2023
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this book.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction.
The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authors’ imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photo-copying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
1 - The Beginning of the End
2 - Take Two
3 - Waiting
4 - Revenge
5 - Rescue
6 - Farewell
7 - A New Sanctuary
8 - Interrogation
9 - Stowaway
10 - Reunion
11 - Family
12 - On the Edge
13 - The Greater of Two Evils
14 - Old Acquaintance Should be Forgot
15 - Freedom
16 - Homecoming
17 – Dysfunctional To The End
18 - On The Run
19 - Midnight
20 - On Edge
21 - Not Alone Yet
22 - Family Matters
23 - Out And About
24 - Shopping Spree
25 - Trial By Combat
26 - Bump In The Night
27 - Raptures of the Deep
28 - Jerks All Over
29 - Together At Last
30 - Smoke and Mirrors
31 - War Was Hell
32 - The Last Chance
33 - Hot Date
34 - Reunion Too
35 - The Predator’s Jaws
36 - Happy Families
37 - A New Look
38 - Changes
39 - Rollercoaster
40 - Confessions
41 - And Yet So Far ...
42 - Breakthrough
43 - Attack
44 - The Contagion Spreads
45 - A Plan Comes Together
46 - Sacrifice
47 - Fighting Back
48 - The Freezing Dead
49 - Where To Now?
50 - To The Rescue
51 - Falling Apart
52 - Improvising
53 - The Devourer
54 - Dynasty
55 - Aftermath
56 - Come Full Crescent
57 - The Vote
58 - A New Beginning
59 - Ascension
1 - The Beginning of the End
Alliance Year One
Amber Grace had seen thousands of births in her many lives. She’d been a midwife countless times and safely delivered many babies, but she’d never been so scared. This time the process was profoundly personal. It should have been as simple as breathing but was horribly hard instead. It also hurt beyond belief ... because she was the one being born.
That was always frightening of course, but after four hundred and twenty-two thousand years of different lives, she was as used to being born as any person could be. No, this was terrifying because the pain and pressure were beyond anything she’d ever felt before.
Her body quivered and tried to arch, but despite hours of labor, she was still held tight.
There was no air to scream with, so Amber’s mind wept instead, lost in space and time. She’d been on fire so long she should have burned to ash, but still the room spun past, and she was trapped, turning on a spit. Was she truly fighting to be born, or was she somehow stuck within her last body, the familiar withered flesh of ancient Lady Grace, Leader of the Beuro for Genome Protection? Whatever was happening felt horribly like being blown up again. It was hard to think past the pain and she couldn’t be sure of anything.
Was she still an old lady struggling to die? That hardly seemed fair. Explosions were supposed to be quick and this ... this was anything but fast.
Amber’s silent scream rebounded from the trap holding her to echo uselessly through her head, but at least that told her something. She was still in her crystal, and this was rebirth certain-sure, but it had never hurt so much before and never, ever taken so long. If only she could birth herself ... no, wait. What was she thinking? This was no time to finally turn senile. There was no midwife for this birth and no mother either. There was only Amber, trapped within a swollen crystal. She had to push herself free, but for the first time, it seemed impossible.
Which made her the incompetent one. Too weak. Again. Too late. Again. And as always others would pay for her failure.
But not just yet. Amber gritted her gums and threw her limbs out hard, pushing into the pain. Sound ripped through her head, the shriek of something tearing and she shrieked too. Her voice was shockingly weak but there at last. The crippling pressure eased. She could breathe.
Sadly, that was worse.
Air ripped in and out of Amber’s unused lungs, while her soft limbs windmilled around her, to slam into a jagged prison. She whimpered but kept hammering at the splintered walls holding her. She had to push right now, squeeze through the cracks, and force her way back into the world. She struck out again and again with puny fists that trailed blood.
Instead of coming into sharper focus the world surrounding her grew dim. Darkness edged her vision while her blows came slower. How could she escape when she was growing so tired? At least the solution to that was obvious. She needed to rest. Everything would work if she simply closed her eyes and stopped fighting. Just ... for a minute ... just ... stopped.
The pain finally eased.
No. Amber drew a ragged breath and sucked in razors rather than air, but the pain was good. Necessary. Oh, she’d just skated far too close to the edge. Hearing returned, and with it a frantic pulse drumming through her chest. She smiled awkwardly, her lips jerking up at the corners, while she lay curled around her heartbeat.
A familiar voice wandered over the silence, little more than a tremor in the air. “Be strong, Gracie, fight. I want you back, so push. Push.”
Amber smiled because that faint voice was familiar. Yes, her brother but what was his name in this life? There were so many to sort through and for a second her head spun, while her past spiraled through her mind. Vertigo made her grip the sides of the bed, but quickly started to fade. Minor memories and ordinary days were lost, as her brain defensively pruned them.
Then she had him. His name and their shared history. Sparrow.
Amber felt her body relax for the first time. Everything would be alright if Sparrow was here. So why did he sound scared? She drew a deeper breath to ask, and pain sliced into her chest. She kicked out in reflex, before shrinking back into a ball, curled around agony.
Amber’s wild movement destroyed her gestational lattice. It sounded like an ice sheet was shearing into pieces on every side. The crack and crash of crystal disintegrating around her were abruptly lost in an explosion and a wave of pressure that stole her breath. She jerked her knees higher still, trembling in the middle of destruction.
Amber’s bony knees jammed into her cheeks and a long, silent moment passed before she relaxed. She gulped but didn’t try to fully unwind. Everything hurt, but she could manage the pain, if nothing made it worse. She didn’t dare try to open her eyes—not only because it might make the agony return but because she wasn’t sure she could cope with what she might see. If she was still trapped, she’d scream again.
Seriously scream and that truly would hurt.
A groan beside Amber changed her mind. Someone else was in trouble and she had to help. If only she could move. She breathed in sharply through her teeth and willed her eyes to open. Just that. How hard could such a simple thing be?
Whoever was hurt moaned again and then coughed weakly. Drakkit, Amber cursed. She stiffened and sudden panic uncurled her wounded body. It was Sparrow sitting beside her. Sparrow who was hurt. She could hear her heartbeat again, thudding with fear.
Movement felt like slicing her chest open but she had to save her brother. She couldn’t keep going, much less save entire worlds, without him.
“Fine,” a thin voice said, and Amber stopped trying to twist her limbs straight. “I’m fine. Truly. Be still, dearest. Your crystal exploded but regen is healing us already. I’ve some cuts, is all. Be calm.”
Her crystal was gone. Had it completely shattered or was something left to salvage? It was hard to process such a blow, especially through her pain.
Amber collapsed on her back and agony lanced her chest once more. She carefully tucked in her chin to look down. The front of her young body was slick with blood. The gleaming point of a crystal spike protruded from her chest. A healing field glowed around the rest of her body but faded near the piece of shrapnel. The gem was an energy sink programmed to absorb any power nearby. She couldn’t heal while it was there.
She gripped the shard, but her hand was shaking, so the crystal sawed at her skin and fresh pain cut through her. Amber stopped hesitating and snatched it out. It came so easily she lost it. It was slick with blood and slid from her childish grip. She snatched after it and a glowing cloud of powder trailed from her fist but that was all. There was no tinkle of crystal striking the floor. The shard had disintegrated too.
Amber groped for her chest to find a relatively shallow slice that was already closing.
A gulp of laughter shook her body. The healing field had protected her enough to cushion the impact and stop the shrapnel from penetrating. She was lucky to be alive though.
For one last time.
She lay there gasping, while doubt sank its hooks in her. Her immortal existence was over, destroyed along with the gem. This would be her final life. Far worse, it might be everyone else’s final life. They could all die—sucked dry by the monster she’d made long ago.
“Don’t despair,” Sparrow quavered. “We have this one, last chance and you’re still so young.”
But you’re not, she thought very quietly, so her brother wouldn’t hear, and something sharper than doubt clawed at her.
“Breathe,” his familiar voice murmured beside her, so she did, sinking deep into unexpected comfort. A birthing bed must have caught her. It was impossible to move in its soft embrace, but she could feel and hear—feel the warmth of an energy field beneath her and hear the dawn chorus from a Kresynt forest. The birdsong flowed over her, as soft as any silken sheet. It ranged from sweet cheeps and tweets to melodious trills. She was home.
Amber’s head stopped spinning, while her thousands of lives slipped further away—leaving only the very first along with the two most recent complete. A single strand of story, made from the best memories of all the others, stretched in between. Her oddly hazy mind could manage that much. It had to.
She pried her eyes open again to the most welcome sight in the universe—the still blurry features of her oldest companion. An ancient kres hunched over her, his face a mask of wrinkles which lifted together to offer Amber a sweet smile.
Her response was a horrified gasp. The ancient text of Sparrow’s face was crisscrossed by sharp red lines. Thin cuts ran all the way from his chin to his right temple and his smile made them gape like bloody mouths. Amber winced, but the new lines were already disappearing. Skin that had sagged far further than usual drew together once more and the lacerations vanished while she watched. Old wrinkles absorbed those straight chasms until Sparrow’s skin gleamed gold once more. She searched his healing face for pain, but he was still beaming.
Amber had to swallow, gulping down regret before she could smile back. Her companion had changed while she gestated. His long hair, braided down his back, was now completely white. His silver fronds were sparsely bushed, with only a few bristles left. They looked like the spikes in a gap-toothed mouth. His silver eyes had grown dim and faded to a dull white.
Amber’s last life had just begun but her brother’s was almost spent.
Her heart caught at the thought, and she wondered how long he had left. He looked like a fading photo of the person she remembered. Grief almost leaked from her soft, childish fronds, but she tucked it away for another time and found a smile for Sparrow instead. He still projected calm authority, draped in the yellow, cream and gold robes of the Leader of the Beuro for Genome Protection.
Amber’s mouth curved more genuinely at that. Her loyal companion had waited centuries to lead the BGP and it suited him.
“Sparrow,” she rasped, trying to clear her throat to say more, but he placed a seamed finger against her lips.
“Take some time. You’re still a newborn.” He creaked further forward to kiss her cheek. “You look lovely, dearest. Not a day past four hundred thousand.”
“While you look every second of that,” Amber whispered and then grimaced. Why did she always deflect emotion? If anyone deserved to get away with being sweet to her it was Sparrow. “I’m sorry. It seems inside I’m still old, crusty, and unable to take good advice.” She paused again, swallowing the demands that tried to follow her apology. Patience was not one of her strengths, but at least it had come easier when she was in an old body. In her reborn form it was almost impossible to find. She needed to keep her questions calm and measured. “Is it dawn?”
Sparrow’s face fell back into a frown. “No, sweet. We’re still deep in the night. Why do you ask? Ah, the birdsong. No, I ordered that for your birth. I hope you like it.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Amber paused to take a deeper breath. The pain was fading, so it should be possible to find more than a whisper. “I’ve been- drakkit.” She stopped again and steeled herself for further effort. “I’ve been worried for you. Has the Arck caused trouble? How long has passed?”
“Just eight months. Your crystal started to shred within days of my return, so I had to supply extra energy and force a more rapid metabolism. Your body has roughly ten cycles of maturity. We didn’t dare wait any longer, so you still have the joys of puberty ahead.”
Amber grimaced at that unexpected news. Adolescence again? How ghastly. Some things didn’t need repeating and that was close to the top of her list. Just below being born and being blown up. She pushed her arms against the mattress and managed to rise on her elbows to look down at her new body. Well. That was unexpected.
Amber filled only half the mattress. The medbay had dropped a sheet over her and her legs were lost in its silver folds. She tried to kick them free, but they simply twitched in response.
“Most encouraging,” Sparrow murmured, and she gave him an exasperated look. He tilted forward to lift the cover from her feet and lower legs.
Amber’s gaze snapped down again and she studied herself critically. Pale yellow skin that glittered where it stretched over her knees and shins was familiar, but she was so skinny. Her legs looked like two strands of pasta. Palace pasta, the thinnest sort. Her feet seemed minute, while her toes were tiny. She wriggled them and at least they responded, which made her smile.
“You’re very cute,” Sparrow observed, and her smile vanished.
“I don’t need cute. Cute is useless. I need strong.”
“Strong you have,” Sparrow said dryly. “Cute I haven’t seen for some time.”
Amber ran a tongue around the inside of her mouth, testing the soft gums there. “I’m not that cute. Why don’t I have any teeth?”
“Apologies,” her brother said, without sounding in the least apologetic. “The accelerated gestation led to the loss of all your baby teeth at the same time. Your adult teeth should move into place shortly.”
Amber’s glare made him chuckle and her fronds bristled, stirring behind each ear for the first time. One of those golden strands rose into her peripheral vision and she sent determination to Sparrow as hard as she could. The emotional push was so soft it only just reached his mind—a childish thought, high and lisping.
Her brother had the temerity to chuckle. “So cute.”
“Stop accusing me of that. I’m a withered old relic, not a child.”
“You’re both, and it’s most fortunate too.” Sparrow bit his lip, but the words were out and along with them an overwhelming emotion. Amber flinched at a fear so strong it verged on despair. She clenched her tiny fists in response and Sparrow sent an unspoken apology. “I’m an old fool who worries too much. Ignore me.” You have all your usual strength of heart and mind, plus a young body that will last long enough.
Until the Devourer attacks, you mean.
The tips of Sparrow’s spiky fronds lifted in agreement.
Then why so scared? Amber demanded and he looked away. Do you think I’ll die before he returns to feed?
Sparrow’s faded eyes looked disturbingly blind, but he turned to stare at her. I fear it. Your crystal is a total loss, turned to mist. This could be the end for us.
Yes. But we will face it with hope, not surrender. Is she well? The human?
Sparrow’s mind sent a hint of reproof. ‘Darsey’ you mean?
Amber frowned and tossed back her hair. It was surprisingly short, sitting well above her shoulders, which made the gesture feel as childish as everything else about her body. I recall the template’s name. Don’t tease me, big brother. Every life out there depends on keeping her far from the Devourer. So, is she safe? Are we all safe?
Sparrow patted her hand. Apologies, very little sister. She’s well and being watched.
Amber clenched her small fists against his soothing touch. [Impatience, anger... fear] We can’t place her at risk. If she dies ...
Sparrow blanched and jerked upright to sit almost straight. Gods above and below. If she died, he would simply breed another conduit for his feeding, but that could take generations. We’d be long gone.
Indeed, Amber replied carefully, struggling to gather her fuzzy thoughts. So where is Darsey? The Devourer could be draining her right now. [terror, shame]
