hungrier
and more dangerous. Soon the lake will be completely barren of
magical creatures. Except, of course, for her. Then, I believe, she will turn her attention to the land.”
“Can’t you gang up on her?” he asked. “Couldn’t all of you together
take her down?”
“We have tried. Every time we’ve gone against her, we’ve suffered
huge losses. I am the sole survivor of my squadron.”
How’d it happen, MacNeely? How is it that you’re the only survivor?
“What do you mean, your squadron?”
“There used to be scores of us, patrolling the Great Lakes from
Superior to Ontario. Now there’s just me. You see, the only weapon
that works against her is iron, and none of us can wield it.” She raked back her red mane of hair. “We need a champion.”
“We need a champion,” the nixies sang.
“A champion?” Russell frowned, perplexed.
• 103 •
• Warrior Dreams •
“We need someone who can partner with us. Who can wield iron
on our behalf. We need a warrior.” She looked Russell in the eyes, and then down at the iron bar beside him in the snow. “We need you.”
“What? No!” he said. “Oh, no. Don’t look at me. You’ve got the
wrong guy.”
But she did look at him, a mingling of eagerness and challenge.
“Don’t you get it?” Russell said, his anger rising. “I’m done with
that. Heroes get killed. If they’re lucky.”
He should know. He was a bona fide hero, with the medals to prove
it. And the wounds that nobody saw, that nobody wanted to see.
“You’ve proven that you can wield iron—can kill with it, if you
have to. You’ve experienced magic, so you know what we stand to
lose. You are unique in the world, Russell G. MacNeely.”
“Yeah, well, you try and be unique for a while, and see how it
works out for you,” Russell growled.
“I am unique,” Laurel said, “in these lakes, at least. My entire family—my mate, my birth family, and my children have been killed.
I’m the only one left.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Russell blurted, as regret sluiced over him.
“I know what it’s like to lose a child.”
“Son or daughter?” Laurel asked.
“Daughter,” Russell said, wishing he hadn’t brought her up.
“How did she die?” Laurel asked.
“Oh, she’s not dead,” Russell said. “I stay away from her. It’s better that way. Safer.”
Know your weapon.
I am the weapon.
Laurel cocked her head. “But if—if she’s still alive, then—?”
“Look, back to business,” Russell said. “Even if you found a
champion, how would he hope to go after this hag? Wouldn’t she just
swim away? And if he swam after her, even if he caught her, he’d be
too exhausted to fight.”
“We have a plan,” Laurel said, as if she’d just invented the wheel.
“We’ll set a trap.”
• 104 •
• Cinda Williams Chima •
“You have this all worked out, don’t you?” Russell laughed bitterly.
“Now all you have to do is find somebody to do it. Somebody else.
You can’t expect me to fight your magical battles for you.”
“You don’t understand, Russell,” Laurel said. “I’m not asking you to fight for me. I’m a warrior, too. We’ll fight together.”
Russell looked her up and down. “Right. Now, I’m going to bed.
With any luck, I’ll get some sleep.”
Turning his back on Laurel, Russell ducked under the bridge, took
another hit of the Four Roses, and crawled into his sleeping bag.
“Whether you help me or not, your fate is sealed,” she called after
him.
He didn’t sleep well. All night long, the nixies sang of battles and valor, invading his dreams. The soft tinkling of bells from the river told him the flow of refugees was continuing.
He dreamt he galloped through the waves astride a white horse,
bursting through spray, his sword held high over his head. Just ahead, Jenny Greenteeth rose out of the waves, rose and rose and rose until she blotted out the sky. He swung his blade with a
and more dangerous. Soon the lake will be completely barren of
magical creatures. Except, of course, for her. Then, I believe, she will turn her attention to the land.”
“Can’t you gang up on her?” he asked. “Couldn’t all of you together
take her down?”
“We have tried. Every time we’ve gone against her, we’ve suffered
huge losses. I am the sole survivor of my squadron.”
How’d it happen, MacNeely? How is it that you’re the only survivor?
“What do you mean, your squadron?”
“There used to be scores of us, patrolling the Great Lakes from
Superior to Ontario. Now there’s just me. You see, the only weapon
that works against her is iron, and none of us can wield it.” She raked back her red mane of hair. “We need a champion.”
“We need a champion,” the nixies sang.
“A champion?” Russell frowned, perplexed.
• 103 •
• Warrior Dreams •
“We need someone who can partner with us. Who can wield iron
on our behalf. We need a warrior.” She looked Russell in the eyes, and then down at the iron bar beside him in the snow. “We need you.”
“What? No!” he said. “Oh, no. Don’t look at me. You’ve got the
wrong guy.”
But she did look at him, a mingling of eagerness and challenge.
“Don’t you get it?” Russell said, his anger rising. “I’m done with
that. Heroes get killed. If they’re lucky.”
He should know. He was a bona fide hero, with the medals to prove
it. And the wounds that nobody saw, that nobody wanted to see.
“You’ve proven that you can wield iron—can kill with it, if you
have to. You’ve experienced magic, so you know what we stand to
lose. You are unique in the world, Russell G. MacNeely.”
“Yeah, well, you try and be unique for a while, and see how it
works out for you,” Russell growled.
“I am unique,” Laurel said, “in these lakes, at least. My entire family—my mate, my birth family, and my children have been killed.
I’m the only one left.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Russell blurted, as regret sluiced over him.
“I know what it’s like to lose a child.”
“Son or daughter?” Laurel asked.
“Daughter,” Russell said, wishing he hadn’t brought her up.
“How did she die?” Laurel asked.
“Oh, she’s not dead,” Russell said. “I stay away from her. It’s better that way. Safer.”
Know your weapon.
I am the weapon.
Laurel cocked her head. “But if—if she’s still alive, then—?”
“Look, back to business,” Russell said. “Even if you found a
champion, how would he hope to go after this hag? Wouldn’t she just
swim away? And if he swam after her, even if he caught her, he’d be
too exhausted to fight.”
“We have a plan,” Laurel said, as if she’d just invented the wheel.
“We’ll set a trap.”
• 104 •
• Cinda Williams Chima •
“You have this all worked out, don’t you?” Russell laughed bitterly.
“Now all you have to do is find somebody to do it. Somebody else.
You can’t expect me to fight your magical battles for you.”
“You don’t understand, Russell,” Laurel said. “I’m not asking you to fight for me. I’m a warrior, too. We’ll fight together.”
Russell looked her up and down. “Right. Now, I’m going to bed.
With any luck, I’ll get some sleep.”
Turning his back on Laurel, Russell ducked under the bridge, took
another hit of the Four Roses, and crawled into his sleeping bag.
“Whether you help me or not, your fate is sealed,” she called after
him.
He didn’t sleep well. All night long, the nixies sang of battles and valor, invading his dreams. The soft tinkling of bells from the river told him the flow of refugees was continuing.
He dreamt he galloped through the waves astride a white horse,
bursting through spray, his sword held high over his head. Just ahead, Jenny Greenteeth rose out of the waves, rose and rose and rose until she blotted out the sky. He swung his blade with a
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