The doors of the throne room gave a sharp snap and slowly ground open as Rolo, Renau, and Konrad leaned on them.

But the throne room wasn’t a room at all.

The top of the mountain had been hacked off flat, and a great carved stone dome with open sides loomed over them. The wind howled like a pack of banshees, and the biting cold quickly penetrated Konrad’s bones.

A dozen frozen statues lined the pathway forward, each of them depicting a large elven warrior wearing full plate armor and glistening with frost. In the center of the space was a great throne, and the carved feet and hands of the stone figure who sat upon it were easily twice Konrad's height. The head, carved with Casovan’s features, had been hacked off and lay twenty feet away, the mocking smile of the small god welcoming them to his shrine on the coldest mountain.

"Welcome to my tomb, champion of Casovan."

A skinny man was leaning against Casovan's left foot; he had a long whispy beard and wore only rags that fluttered in the wind, apparently oblivious to the biting cold around them.

"Who are you?" Konrad called.

"My name was Lot, and I will have my vengeance."

With a series of cracking sounds, the statues lining the path to the throne began to move. Sheets of ice cascaded from their armor, and the frozen faces of the elven warriors turned their lifeless blue eyes toward Konrad and his companions.

"Konrad, stay behind me!" Rolo yelled, running forward to meet the slow charge of the first warrior.

The sound of the young northman’s axe meeting the long sword of the elf zombie reverberated around the mountaintop and was closely followed by a flash of fire as Serena thrust out her hands, blasting two of the fiends off of their feet.

Renau was engaging another of the ice knights, and he moved like a dancer, feigning and testing with his sword until he managed to slip inside its guard and shatter its outstretched arm. His look of triumph was fleeting, though, as a ragged figure darted out from behind a column and raked a dagger along the captain's back.

"Go Konrad, get him!" Renau shouted, just managing to parry the renewed attack from the elven knight.

Spirit darted after the scrawny figure who called himself Lot, and Konrad drew his sword and gave chase. The sounds of battle raged behind them, and Spirit stopped at the bottom of the steps to the throne and let out a low, dangerous growl.

"We know about the demon; let us help you." Konrad yelled.

Lot turned on the steps, his long knife red with frozen blood.

"I don’t need your help, champion; I need your soul, locked away in the abyssal plain."

"Why are you doing this?"

"He didn’t tell you that he took my wife from me? She was cold, so cold, and I couldn’t make her warm. I begged him to help her, to stop the cold bite. But he laughed at me."

Lot had reached the top of the throne now, and Konrad was close enough to see another figure. A young woman lay upon the top step, wrapped in a white shroud and frozen solid.

"He took her from me, and now I will give you to my demon. He'll trap you in the abyss, and Casovan will be trapped with you."

Lot turned to the headless statue. "I command you to take him, imprison him and his god in the abyss, and return her to me."

The air shimmered, and where the head of Casovan had been, was the face of a demon. Horned, grotesque, with mad red eyes and the muzzle of a wolf, Lot thrust out his bony hand, and Konrad felt a force clutch him. He was lifted into the air and carried forwards towards the toothy maw of the demon.

Spirit trailed tendrils of shadow as she launched herself up the steps to snap at Konrad's cloak, but something blocked her, and she gave a pained yelp as she was flung far away, sliding in a drift of snow.

Konrad looked into the depths of the demon's mouth and knew that he was going to be imprisoned for eternity. Fear seized him, and he shuddered violently.

"Lot," Serena cried.

The witch stood at the bottom of the steps, Rolo and Renau limping forward not far behind her. Behind them lay the broken corpses of the snow elf warriors.

This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

"The demon lied to you; they don’t have the power to bring anyone back from the cold."

"You think I trust a word you say, witch? You are a Faelen puppet; I smell their madness on you."

"You are right to curse Casovan. The gods are cruel, but they are also indifferent. This demon is pure evil; he's twisted your vengeance and used it for his own ends."

"You lie; he obeys me."

"Speak his name then, and command him."

Lot looked uncertain for the first time, and Konrad felt himself drop down slightly.

Serena’s bitter laugh cut even through the howling wind. "You don't know his name, do you? Then it is you who are the puppet."

"He obeys me," Lot hissed, and Konrad shot towards the open mouth like an arrow.

"No. But he will obey me." Serena lifted her hands, and her eyes went white. Her braided hair fanned out around her in a halo, and she spoke loudly the word that had been scrawled throughout the desecrated temple. The word that the poor fisherman could not read but that the tortured priests had written in their madness and the witch, Hesp, had scrawled as she died.

The maw of the demon snapped shut, a ring of fire binding it closed. Konrad dropped out of the air and landed heavily in the lap of the statue.

"No!" Lot screamed and leapt down from the top of the stairs, his blade flashing as he dove through the air towards Serena.

Renau’s crossbow twanged, and the bolt took Lot through the throat, whisking him out of the air like a puppet with its strings cut.

The demon snarled and fought against its muzzle before being dragged backwards into a dark void behind it.

"That went better than I expected; well done, champion."

The wind around Konrad had disappeared, and Casovan stood next to him on the lap of the giant statue. Below them, Rolo was frozen in time, tending to Serena, and Reanu was also unmoving as he leaned in to check the body of Lot.

"It’s nice to have a little more power back," the small god said, flexing his fingers.

"You were here the whole time? We could have done with your help."

"I couldn’t do anything while he was here; that demon had given him control of the whole place. Besides, you did well, champion; you won!"

"We nearly died. If I’d been alone, I would have been sent to the abyss, and you too."

For the first time, Casovan looked slightly uneasy.

"What happens to gods who are sent there?" Konrad asked.

"Oh, nothing really, a minor inconvenience." Casovan waved a hand dismissively and tried to keep his voice even, but Konrad sensed something in his tone, was it fear?

The woman still lay at the top of the steps, locked in a frozen sleep.

"Is it true what Lot said about his wife? Did you refuse to help her when she was dying of cold?"

Casovan squinted at the woman and then shrugged. "I can’t remember everyone who comes to me for help, champion, and at that time I was pretty important around here. Until the ocean swallowed up the city, that is. After that, this place became a little unmanageable with the little power I had."

"But if someone had come to you for help, someone who believed in you, you would have helped them, right?"

"It’s not the job of the gods to fix mortals problems. We are here to give them hope and something to strive for. You don’t know what it’s like when they all start asking you for things; frankly, it’s maddening. You think the Father or the Mother are watching and helping all the time? The trick is to pick one priest and let them get on with it. Better to just let mortals do their own thing, ask any god and they’ll tell you. "

"Lyran isn’t like that."

Casovan laughed, and Konrad got the feeling that he didn’t really like the small, elven-featured god all that much.

"Lyran is trying to turn over a new leaf, but she’s needlessly punishing herself, I told her not to bother. Anyway, let's get to your reward, shall we? I know the resistance to cold wasn’t very useful up until now; it seemed that the power he stole somehow interfered with it. But to make it up to you, this is all yours obviously," Casovan said, gesturing in the general direction of the mountaintop.

"You’re giving me a mountain? Don't you want it?"

Casovan looked around with a disinterested expression. "Why? There’s no-one here to worship me. No, now that my power is unlocked, I’m thinking of a change of style. I’m going to see what people really care about nowadays. Cold is just so archaic, don’t you think?"

Konrad was utterly dumbfounded. "What am I supposed to do with it?"

"There’s a sizeable deposit of Linium under your feet; the snow elves and the arcanists used to go crazy for it, so I’m sure it’s still worth something; check the mines down below.

"I have other gifts, obviously. You’ll have the power of the Bite. Right now, it’ll give you some minor illusory powers, but as you grow stronger, you’ll be able to freeze pretty much anything you like. If you get really good, then you can make them obey you; that’s how I made those guards down there."

The shattered remains of the snow elf knights were scattered over the mountaintop. Freezing things sounded useful, but he didn’t think he would ever want to make an ice zombie.

"You’ll get stronger, of course. In the old days we called them ranks, but everything's changed."

"What rank am I?"

Casovan studied Konrad. Finger, I’d say."

"Finger?"

"As in, finger of the god, an extension of divine intent. Then there’s hand, arm, head... I forget the rest. Perhaps I should make some new ones? You know, to better fit the times."

Casovan disappeared, and Spirit limped over as he scrambled down the statue.

"You okay, girl?"

She gave him a cold lick on the cheek, and he nuzzled her fur, sending a wave of warm healing into her body.

Rolo was limping, and Serena looked as though she was only standing through sheer force of will; Renau was glaring horrified at the damage done to his jacket by Lot’s blade.

Their strength had defeated the coldest mountain, and that knowledge was a wound in Konrad's pride. How much had he really contributed to the fight? Champions were tall, strong, and fast like Athir, so what was he doing wrong?

A sense of shame gnawed at him, and as he sighed, something stirred in his veins. The snapping bite of the wind on the mountaintop was now more like a caress on his skin. Testing his new powers, he gently exhaled, and the power of the cold god formed ice crystals in the air in front of him.

Konrad smiled; that was more like it.