Captain Cicero stared at his troops and sighed. They were the vanguard of Evergreen — not because they were skilled, but because they had no house to back them up. Constant battles whittled out the weakest of them, and what was left was a formidable fighting force that could rival any noble house’s.

Now, they were being ordered to save such a force — trapped behind the advancing Ice due to the arrogance of their noble commander.

He looked at his men, his doubts reflecting on their faces. They were made to follow some of the most unreasonable orders — putting their lives on the line for little benefit to the cause.

“Lord Norwin, third son of the Ardent house, took it to himself to fortify one of our abandoned southern outposts,” Cicero clenched his fists. “The reason? To hell with the reason.”

A few murmurs of anger and confusion rose from the ranks — but a raised hand from their captain silenced the men.

“The Ice caught up with the yesterday — probably a new spire getting built near their location.”

“Why don’t they just leave? That outpost was abandoned for a reason.”

“It took more than half their men to secure the outpost,” Cicero’s voice turned grim. “With the arrival of the Ice, those men are now banging at the gates of the citadel as undead minions of the Ice.”

“Captain, the frozen undead — they’re unnatural.”

Cicero nodded.

“For those of you new to the Ice, the only way to get rid of any undead you face is with a dagger or fire.”

“Swords and spears won’t work?” asked a new recruit, doubt written on his face.

“Swords and axes can cut them apart — but it won’t put them down,” Cicero explained. “Spears are useless on them.”

“But why?”

“Ritual.”

Cicero turned towards the voice and spotted Jeremy.

“The Scourge is correct,” Cicero gave the wizard a nod. “Mages from centuries past believe sacrifices were made to create the Ice — and the undead that rise through its powers can only be put down using similar methods.”

“Throwing them inside a volcano would probably work — or tying them to boulders to get eaten by monsters.”

The captain’s train of thought was derailed by the strange outburst from Jeremy.

“Y-yes, that could possibly work.”

“Too bad we don’t have any volcanoes in the Ice. Right, Captain?”

The veterans in the crowd started chuckling, but the newer recruits stayed silent. Cicero appreciated the levity — especially since his next words would probably darken the mood.

“We are to head to the southern outpost to clear a path for the trapped soldiers.”

“The Ice, or whoever is behind it, already know they’re there,” the Scourge advised.

“It matters not, those are our orders.”

“That’s suicide!” a fresh recruit complained. “Right? Right?”

He turned around expecting support, only to find grim and dour faces of men who’ve already accepted their fates.

“I can’t be part of this. This isn’t right —“

“Then I suggest you find a horse — a fast one at that,” Cicero looked saddened. “Once you get past the gates — or if you get past them, ride as hard as you can to the ports and sail to the next kingdom.”

“But... but...”

A pale hand gripped the young soldier’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I’ll try to keep you alive,” the Scourge reassured him. “or at least make it look like you died doing something heroic.”

“You might not get the chance, Scourge,” Cicero approached the wizard. “There’s a reason mages stay in the citadel and not take to the battlefield.”

“Magical fire doesn’t work on the undead? What about hellfire?”

“Oh, fire works quite well,” Cicero started, “but a few unlucky mages found themselves the target of their own spells.”

“Reflection or some sort of resonance?”

The captain noted that the wizard seemed unnaturally excited.

“They burned with their targets. As if they cast the spell on themselves as well.”

“Oh,” the Scourge chuckled. “I don’t mind getting burned.”

He looked thoughtful, as if coming to a sudden realization.

“I also have my scythe.”

“Only fire and daggers work,” Cicero frowned. “Weren’t you listening?”

“I was, I was,” the wizard held up his hands. “Look at me. I look like Death — and I have a scythe. What’s more ritual than that?

***

Jeremy convinced the captain to let him join the suicide rescue mission.

Even if he couldn’t fight, he could always provide an easy exit through one of his portals.

At first, the captain disagreed — saying teleportation magic was risky in the Ice. Thankfully, Yaren vouched for him. The soldier also surrendered the ring they got in their little adventure, seeing that the Ice could disrupt or limit its usefulness. A noble probably relied on the ring as a lifesaver — only for it to fail in his time of need.

The Ice didn’t disrupt his portals — probably because they were portals to hell. Sure, there was a small risk of getting devoured and torn to shreds — but it wasn’t any bigger than the ones people take when riding a horse.

His eyes wandered to the storm clouds above even as his thoughts drifted towards the Ice.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

It felt sentient or at least it had something sentient behind it.

Was it a primordial entity, an ancient spell, or was it merely a nexus that connected its creatures to a strange power source.

The latter would certainly explain the undead.

He could barely control himself when the captain talked about fortified undead due to age-long rituals. While he was not too receptive towards human sacrifice — perhaps there were other rituals that could improve his tireless workforce.

“Those clouds are unnatural,” Yaren nudged him.

He was the only uninjured scout from yesterday’s foray. The veteran didn’t need to come — but he wanted to accompany him and maybe get to see a glimpse of hell once again.

“Oh, they are,” Jeremy agreed. “They’re a gift from the Blackstaff. I didn’t want the sun burning us up as we walked.”

“The Blackstaff can do that? Just change the weather?”

“Probably not,” Jeremy answered. “But he does have access to the mages in the citadel. Ritual casting with several people can do wonders.”

Yaren looked to the sky and frowned.

They continued their trek for another couple of hours when the Captain called for a halt.

“You can see the ice from here,” he pointed. “Another hour and we’ll be crossing over it. It’ll take another half hour to reach the outpost.”

Jeremy missed Shelby. Having the snail around would have made things a lot easier. She could probably just eat the undead — getting devoured by a large monster was also seen as some kind of ritual sacrifice.

“Ready your weapons,” the Captain advised.

Jeremy watched the men fumble for their sidearms. They still carried their usual weapons. It would be tragic if they were to meet orcs and trolls with just daggers.

He approached the Captain, making his way to the front of the marching troops — as his father directed.

“You don’t need to be up front, wizard.”

He smiled at the captain. “Death rides before the army. The Blackstaff himself willed it.”

The Captain’s face seemed to furrow, his expressions unreadable to Jeremy.

“The spearhead can’t protect you. We’ll be too busy shearing through the enemy and trying to stay alive ourselves.”

“Not a problem, Captain’” Jeremy acknowledged. “Just leave some undead to me.”

He started crafting a spell as they walked — softly murmuring the words to trigger the subconscious creation of spell matrices to guide and shape mana. It would have been easier if he used ambient mana instead of infernal, but Jeremy chose not to.

The world’s mana was full of metaphysical jerms that screwed with the mind the way jerms screwed with the body — and Jeremy would have none of that.

Infernal mana leaked from the wizard, causing the men around him to steal a few glances.

His mana had a touch of malevolence due to his connection to the hells. Adventurers and soldiers misconstrue it as his own thirst for blood — a palpable bloodthirst of sorts.

Soon, they saw the outpost and the undead that surrounded it.

They numbered more than a thousand — easily five times the numbers of the vanguards.

Jeremy signaled to the Captain that he was going to cast a spell.

“Fire spells? At this range?”

They were a quarter of a mile away from the outpost. Most fire spells would fizzle out before they crossed that distance — and the ones that didn’t were fueled by enough magic to drain five mages.

“Not fire,” Jeremy smiled.

The sound of thunder followed his words, making the captain realize what he was planning.

“Lightning?” he asked. “The mages said only daggers and fire worked on the undead.”

Jeremy shrugged. What were the opinions of mages to him who had a council of demon lords at his beck and call?

“Lightning cast by a wizard won’t work,” he explained. “But being struck by the heavens is another thing.”

Jeremy raised a hand and brought it down.

A bolt of lightning crashed into the teeming undead that surrounded the outpost, followed by two more.

The captain waited, as did the troops, expecting the dead to rise once more.

They didn’t.

“See. Struck by lightning from the heavens. That’s a deity-level ritual.”

“How many more can you summon?” the Captain asked.

Jeremy’s lightning cut a third of the undead’s numbers — but they still had enough to pose a problem.

“Just one more. The clouds are dissipating as we speak — I won’t be able to call any bolt after ten minutes.”

“Save it.”

The captain turned to the men.

Shield-bearers at the ready,” he roared. The spearhead will cut the path — make sure to hold the undead until we reach the outpost!”

Battlecries filled the air as the Captain led the charge.

Jeremy stayed at his flank, surrounding himself with fire as he ran.

Body of Flame * Compound Spell * Evocation * Abjuration * Fire

Effect: Surrounds the caster’s body with wisps of flame that deal damage to anyone within 3 steps. Damage dealt is proportional to the amount of mana used in crafting the spell.

***

Who is this Cicero? And why does he think he’s in charge?

Norwin glared at the captain as he trudged unfamiliar otherworldly terrain.

He expected the citadel to send troops in the thousands — not a small cadre of old men and fresh recruits.

Their mage even had the gall to blow up the gates with lightning when his men hesitated to open them.

They were certainly skilled. They lost barely a tenth of their number in their reckless charge — too bad their commander didn’t have proper manners.

They herded them like sheep, all but forcing them into the mage’s portal that lead to —

Where was this, exactly?

Some sort of elemental plane from the looks of it. He knew of wizards that could cross worlds — so why not just send them directly to Evergreen?

They’ve been walking for what seemed like two hours. Norwin saw the captain discussing something with the wizard — who had a scythe as a wizard’s staff.

His men were edgy — but it seemed like captain’s troops were downright afraid. What do they know about this place that we don’t?

He watched the captain approach. Norwin frowned, intent on showing the captain how displeased he was at their treatment.

“The Scourge said he could open the portal to Evergreen once we cross those chasms.”

Norwin gave him a curt nod — which was more than he deserved. At least they were getting back to the citadel and away from — wherever this was.

They soon crossed the chasms, if you could even call them that. They were barely as deep as a man’s height.

One of his men rushed to his side — whispering of gems embedded in the chasms.

He tasked one of his guards to investigate and he returned with a ruby the size of a grape.

Norwin signaled his men to halt and allow Cicero’s men to pass.

He could see the captain coming over — worry painted on his face.

“Why are you dallying? The wizard said he needed to open the portal a quarter of a mile ahead.”

“Hush, captain,” Norwin dismissed him. “There’s nothing here. Let my men investigate as they wish.”

The captain frowned before turning to his men. “Forward — get to the wizard!”

“Finally, some sense.” Norwin mocked. “It took you long enough to know your place.”

“Five minutes, then we’re leaving — with or without you.”

Norwin angrily turned with a ready rebuke, but the captain had already left with his men — even running like the scared dog that he was.

“Don’t mind the bastard,” he urged his men. “These gems will at least make up for my losses. Each of you gets one for every five you find.

Norwin stared at his cheering men. He could always take it back from them once they reached his family’s territory.