Read Fimbulwinter (Daniel Black) for Free Online Page B

expect from a preindustrial feudal regime,
    so showing too much concern would just draw attention to her.
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    “Of course I’m going to take care of it, silly girl. I certainly don’t want it
    to scar. Captain, I assume you don’t intend to move out for a bit?”
    He glanced at the sun. “Take another hour or so to finish searching the
    ruins. I don’t suppose you could take a look at some of the men too?”
    “Certainly,” I assured him. “But that will take time. I can mend most
    wounds in a matter of hours, but I can’t do it while walking.”
    He studied the little caravan for a moment, and nodded decisively. “Not a
    problem, sir. We’ll set you up in the back of one of the big wagons. That’ll
    give you room to work, and a bit of shelter from the snow. I just hope the
    weather holds.”
    I followed his gaze, and found dark clouds on the horizon to the north.
    “So do I, captain. So do I.”
    In the Norse sagas Ragnarok was supposed to be preceded by the
    Fimbulwinter - thirty years of bitter cold, without a single day of warmth. Was
    that really what was going to happen, or was Hecate’s choice of words just a
    coincidence? Hopefully the latter, because food was one thing I couldn’t just
    conjure up.
    The wagon wasn’t much to look at. Just a big box on wheels, with a
    wooden frame supporting a canvas roof and sides. The front and back had
    flaps that could be laced shut, but even so its value as shelter was pretty
    modest. It was full of hay bales and barrels of beer when we arrived, but
    Captain Rain called over a squad of his troops and had most of the hay cleared
    out in a matter of minutes. They left a single layer of bales covering the floor of
    the wagon, as well as a couple of barrels, but that gave us plenty of room.
    We settled ourselves on the hay with a collective sigh of relief.
    “We made it,” Avilla declared.
    “I have to say, I thought we were goners for a while there,” Cerise
    admitted.
    “My list of critical magic items to make is growing a lot faster than I have
    time to work on it,” I said. “I hate being caught off guard like that.”
    Cerise chuckled. “If that was being caught off guard I can’t wait to see a
    fight you’re ready for. You were totally badass cutting your way through the
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    woods, and the way you handled that troll! I got wet just watching it.”
    “Gore whore,” Avilla teased. “You’re just a slut for power, aren’t you?”
    “You know it, honeydew,” Cerise agreed smugly.
    “Well, I’m glad you’re coping so well, but I’m not a pain slut like you.
    Daniel, can you please take a look at this?”
    I turned to find that she’d drawn the canvas closed, and shrugged her
    dress off to bare herself from the waist up. I just about swallowed my tongue.
    I’ve never seen such a perfect hourglass figure, and those magnificent breasts
    of hers could have belonged to a comic book character. Her golden-brown skin
    was smooth and unblemished, her large dark nipples perfectly placed and
    exactly symmetrical.
    There was a short, wickedly barbed arrow sticking out of one of them,
    and a trickle of pale fluid still leaking from the wound. That brought me back
    to Earth.
    “Of course, Avilla. I do have to touch it, though,” I warned her.
    “Just be gentle, please. It’s very sore.”
    I nodded, and laid my hand lightly on her breast. Closing my eyes I
    reached with my body sense, feeling for the wound. But something wasn’t
    right. Not at all. There was flesh under my hand, but it wasn’t remotely human.
    There was no meat or blood, just.... I strained, trying to identify it... sugar,
    cinnamon, honey, mead, and a host of strange fluids that shimmered with
    magic.
    “Whoa,” I murmured. “Sugar and spice and everything nice, that’s what
    Avilla is made of. So that’s what Cerise meant by ‘spell-wrought’.”
    I opened my eyes to find her looking up at me with fear in her eyes.
    “Can your power heal a creature like me?” She asked