image [https://i.imgur.com/yFu9mOD.png]

XVIII

Frost and Death

Mornings were the chilliest. Darkness had long swallowed the fireplace’s evening warmth. Tea had yet to be poured, leaving one with nothing but the defences of their body against the cold seeping up from the floorboards. The fight was rough. Especially since I was sitting cross-legged on the floor...but it cooled my head and oiled my thoughts.

I would wait until evening to test my death magic, where I had the cover of dark to experiment. For now, I flipped through the tome on frost magic instead and read:

The world of the mage is one of understanding and imagination.

To understand, for example, the process of creating by magic. Are we calling an element or object into being, or is it summoned from a parallel plane?

To imagine, for example, whether magic can be inverted. Would powering a fire spell with frost energies produce one of ice?

To answer such queries one needs understanding and imagination, which are often inverse qualities. For, the beginner’s mind holds many possibilities, but the expert’s holds few. A sorcerer must avoid this. Because what he cannot imagine, he cannot understand. What he cannot understand, he cannot create. And what cannot be created, can never be magic.

‘Understanding and imagination…’ I whispered and flipped the page.

The next two lines were the sole ones on the page.

Thus, the novice frost mage’s study begins with the nature of their element.

What is ice?

I turned to the blue-white sky outside my window. Ice is the cold given form, was the first answer that came to me. I also knew it to be the easy and wrong answer. Ice…frost…it's a brazen element; one that refused to leave unless destroyed with force. Necron’s frost was such an example. It was a permanent entity, and until my “death”, I hadn’t seen frost anywhere that was more formidable.

It had just never meant anything to me, so I had not put any time into studying it.

‘A shame,’ I said.

My control over ice would’ve been leaps and bounds ahead of what it was now, otherwise.

Well, no use crying about it.

I got to my feet. If I needed to study ice, there was no time like the present.

image [https://i.imgur.com/z6G5s0x.png]

Down the hill from the castle was a training ground. It was a large field the soldiers used to run drills with wooden and stone targets set up all over—most of which were in the shape of orcs.

Swords and spears smashed against their faces to the point of breaking, their owners shouting in fury. Ardent instructors yelled above the chaos with ease and commanded their lessers to “kill the boy,” as one of them put it. I was uncertain if it was a metaphor or literal statement as a young soldier really did look like he was about to die any moment. Unfortunately for him, his instructor’s fervour increased after he noticed me.

Good luck, kid, I whispered.

I found a clearing in the hustle and bustle. It was occupied.

A lone woman stood within, resting like a boulder in a raging river. She held a tome in one hand and a staff in the other. A white cloak hugged her bosom tight, which drew the roving eye of more than one soldier, who were quickly reprimanded by their superiors. Those superiors would steal a glance themselves afterwards, however.

‘Do you mind if I sit here?’ I asked.

Leah’s mouth curved like a snake. ‘I do.’

So I took seat a little away from her.

She snorted and went back to what she was doing.

I drew from my core and conjured an ice crystal above my palm. Then I continued reading from my tome. Whenever I reached a subject that was difficult to digest, I turned the whole of my attention on the chill of my magic and tried to replicate the example the book was using to explain its concepts. It didn’t always work. But it sped up my process significantly.

I was repeatedly splintering a shard into fragments and recombining them when Leah spoke up.

‘You need to work on your transmutation.’

I looked up. Her book was strapped to her waist now and in its stead she held her staff. A ball of miasma that changed between being composed of thunder and fire floated in front of her, lighting our surroundings.

‘My transmutation?’

‘Yes.’

As I stared at her, the sphere adopted another element, adding earth into its rotation.

Leah sighed and deigned me with a look from the corner of her eye. ‘Chapter 1 in the book, what does it talk about?’

‘Understanding and imagination,’ I said.

‘Be more specific.’

I frowned. Transmutation…though the meaning wasn’t an exact fit, there wasn’t anything else it could be.

‘It questioned whether magic is called into being, or summoned from a parallel plane.’

‘Got it in one. Now, think back on what I said.’

My brow raised, which drew a grin from her.

‘Doesn’t feel so good when you’re on the opposite side, huh?’

I slapped her remark away. However, this was one of the concepts I had never bothered asking Syiin about. To me, mana led to magic. That was all there had ever been to it.

And that mindset was keeping from having a valid answer at the moment.

‘You’re sharp, Warden.’ Leah smirked. ‘You’ll figure it out.’

‘I do have a knack for solving problems.’ I stroked my throat on coincidence.

A heated response would’ve come flying my way had Leah’s gaze not been drawn to an approaching figure behind me.

‘Warden, could I trouble you with a personal request?’

My guard captain was walking around bare-chested. His abs would’ve glistened in the glow of Leah’s magic if it wasn’t for his body hair.

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Leah looked at the thick layers which could pass for fur. ‘It’s near freezing.’

‘You just need to keep moving,’ he chuckled.

She blinked. Then returned to her practice without another word.

‘I’m listening, Malakai,’ I said.

He raised one of two wooden swords he was holding. ‘I was hoping for some pointers.’

Huh. That was unexpected.

Well, I’m stuck on the current subject anyway. That, and something else. I studied Malakai. His expression was easygoing, yet there was a tension in his shoulders.

‘Pointers.’ I got to my feet and handed my book to an irritated Leah. ‘Have you already decided I’m your better?’

Malakai passed me the blade. It was on the lighter side.

‘I’ve never seen anyone dismantle orcs the way you do, Warden.’

‘And how many times have you seen anyone fight an orc?’

‘Twice,’ he shrugged innocently.

I grinned and removed my coat, leaving me in a grey, long-sleeved, woollen shirt. We took up position near the edge of the clearing.

‘Three rounds of two minutes,’ I said.

He nodded, adopting a high guard. ‘I’ll be in your care, Warden.’

‘Likewise.’

Malakai wasn’t one to hesitate. He stepped in, his blade coming down in an arc. A short pivot got me out of the way. I raised my blade to catch a reversed cut, then used my better leverage to shove him back.

Though he stumbled, I did not take the opening.

‘Why the request?’ I asked.

He caught his footing and whirled around to face me. ‘No particular reason, Warden.’

I hummed.

A quick step brought me in range to thrust at his defence. He tapped the blow off course and prepared to strike, but I jumped back before he could.

We circled each other again.

‘You never asked during our stay in Snowspire or our journey here,’ I said.

He grunted, threw a feint to close the distance, and aimed to cut open my guts. I leaned back—the tip nearly kissed my stomach—then lunged forward and dropped my blade. One hand pulled his arm to get him off balance, the other went for his face. My hook planted in his cheek. Or it would have, had I not pulled back the punch.

I let him go, strolled back to our starting position and tilted my head.

He glanced at the floor. ‘I didn’t yet think it was necessary.’

‘To get stronger?’ I said.

‘Yes. I was just a mansion guard until a week ago.’

And how easy it was to forget that. Would he have even seen any combat before, outside his training with other estate guards?

‘You’re holding up well,’ I said.

His response was taking position.

I made us wheel in the opposite direction and searched for an angle. ‘Do you dislike the change? Though it will pain me, I can get you back to the estate.’

‘No! But—’

I rushed forward. He stumbled onto his back foot as I used my longer reach to get him in an awkward position, and when he tried to close the gap, I cut him off before he could move. Malakai was breathing hard by the time my onslaught stopped, but he had only allowed me to score shallow wounds.

No, I thought. He must’ve been more than just an estate guard in the past.

‘—it’s quite scary, you know?’ Malakai spit in the snow.

‘Our enemies?’ I said.

‘Amongst other things.’

I waited.

‘It’s my duty to protect you, Warden.’ The grip on his blade tightened. ‘But after the larch forest…I’m not sure I can. Or if it’s needed.’

His words floated in the breeze. We did not speak for the rest of the round. Not even the rounds after that. But though we didn’t speak, his inner monologue crawled down my blade whenever we clashed. And when I threw him to the floor at the end of the last round, I felt his inner turmoil tremble from the hit.

I wiped the sweat from my brow. ‘I’m glad, Malakai.’

‘Glad…about?’ He heaved.

‘What you’re feeling.’

His brow raised.

‘You’re experiencing what every great leader goes through,’ I said.

‘Being uncertain,’ I continued. ‘Thinking you don’t measure up and never will. If you’re lucky, those thoughts will stay with you forever.’

‘If I’m lucky?’ He rolled onto his knees.

I nodded. ‘Doubt drives us. You, and everyone counting on you, lose the moment it vanishes.’

My eyelids drooped as my mind flashed with my four dearest treasures. Centuries had passed, yet I could recall them down to the smallest crack in their skin.

A single mistake was all it took.

I offered Malakai a hand. ‘So cherish it. But don’t give in to it.’

His forehead creased as he caught his breath. Eventually, though, his lips took on a slight curve. ‘You sound like my father,’ he said and clasped my arm.

‘Then your father is a smart man,’ I said as I pulled him up.

‘He was.’ He chuckled, straightened, and stared into the distance. ‘…no wonder I failed him,’ he mumbled.

That piqued my interest. But the moment wasn't right for me to jab at that story.

‘There’s no time like the present,’ I said. As I did, an idea popped into my head. ‘I may have a method to speed up your growth.’

‘Does it involve me staying alive?’

I shrugged. ‘Being an undead isn’t half as bad as you think.’ I turned to the greenskin, which was at my side at once. ‘Isn’t that right?’

The orc did not answer.

Malakai, already used to my summons, didn’t so much as yelp. Others were different. Many weapons aimed our way in moments as all feigning of training stopped.

Ah, our spar had drawn quite the audience.

Malakai glanced between me and the orc. ‘I don’t quite follow, Warden.’

‘She’s going to make you fight it,’ Leah said. She was no longer training her spells and was instead meditating.

‘Eavesdropping, are you?’ I said. ‘How unladylike.’

She snorted. ‘Says the giant muscle-head that wrestles women to the ground.’

‘I don’t expect you to understand,’ I sighed. ‘A real lady must use all the tools available to her.’

‘A real lady?’ Leah said. ‘Malakai, you think she’s a lady?’

I crossed my arms and looked down at him.

He coughed in his palm. ‘I think you’re the perfect picture of strength that the Duchy needs, Ma’am.’

So I unsummoned the greenskin. Durak took its place.

‘As I said, Durak is the perfect sparring opponent for you since you’re both captains.’

Malakai’s face turned sour. He glared at Leah, who suddenly found herself within the depths of concentration, unaware of the distractions outside.

He sighed. ‘...thank you, Warden.’

‘Don’t mind it.’

Jokes aside, this was a perfect opportunity that wouldn’t draw attention.

I gave Malakai back the sword. ‘See if you can find an axe,’ I said. ‘It’ll be better practice.’

And as Malakai left, I fell into my meditation. I reached for my connection with Durak and stroked it like I would a kitten. Durak didn’t smile; there was no place for happiness amongst the dead. But he did…purr. I didn’t have a better description of the way our bond thrummed.

Faint beams of sunlight fell on my eyelids. They left behind patches of red warmth in the dark shrouding my vision. Yet as I pulled my mind along Durak’s bond, the darkness vanished. Slowly. Like dark-eating ants were nibbling away at the shadows.

I got the sense I was moving, pounding the earth with heavy footfalls and lashing out against the air with crisp, weighty swings. It was nauseating. The sensations clashed with the knowledge I was sitting still. What didn’t help was that I began swaying and wasn’t sure who was doing so—Durak because he got hit, or me, whose body was trying to instinctively mimic the motions it was experiencing. It got so bad bile rose in my throat. However, luckily, my vision cleared up completely before I could deposit the contents of my stomach.

Then I was looking at Malakai, who was in the middle of a wide swing that would cleave Durak at the temple.

The black orc had dismissed the blow as trifling and chosen to react with a swing of its own. But that was a habit a regular orc wouldn’t share. So I ducked and let go of my weapon. Malakai’s eyes went wide at the sudden shift in movement, and his blade sailed overhead…

Durak’s uppercut landed square in his stomach, sending him sprawling.

I cringed. I hadn’t meant to put that much force behind the blow. Before I could so much as apologise, a shout at my side interrupted me.

‘Soldier! Are you alright?!’ A middle-aged guard barrelled forwards and stopped some distance away from me. His eyes never left me as he spoke.

‘I’m…alright. Just wasn’t expecting…that.’

‘Can you go on?’

Malakai raised the white flag.

‘Tom!’ The man shouted for another guard. ‘Help him off the field.’ Still he watched me. Or rather, Durak. He cracked his neck and raised the wide, claymore-esque blade he carried. ‘Gather round!’

The audience of soldiers stepped closer, forming a circle around our position.

‘Warden!’ he yelled. ‘My name is Gregory White, Senior Frostblade. I happened to witness your captain’s duel and would request the same of this…orc.’

All eyes were on me—the real me.

‘You…may,’ I said. It was an effort to make myself speak instead of Durak, but I managed. ‘Do not…disappoint me.’

‘Warden!’ he screamed. I made Durak face him fully. The undead’s cold gaze pierced through whatever he looked at. It gave the soldiers pause. But not the Senior Frostblade. In him, I sensed the surging of a storm, the rising of a tide pulled back by recent events that was ready to unleash devastation beyond the shore.

‘Watch closely,’ he told the novices, voice low. ‘This is what you should’ve done.’

And when everyone leaned forwards despite the fear Durak inspired, I understood: this was not a mere sparring session. Not for these men who had lost over half of their force—who had lost friends that were like family.

This was retribution.

Durak released a long, death-touched breath. Black gauntlets raised their axe, and a rusty, decayed voice slithered out. ‘Come. Human.’

The Senior Frostblade was on me.

image [https://i.imgur.com/z6G5s0x.png]

The screams and shouts of frostguards could be heard outside the office window—above even the humming of Leah’s magic and the Black Heart representative’s snoring.

Many more had followed the Senior Frostblade, all demanding a duel with the big, bad orc. And though it was great practice for both sides, I had other matters to attend to. So I left Durak and some orc warriors for the frostguards as sparring partners.

For now, I spent my time reading scouting reports, old and new. I scoured them for any mention of the Black Hearts and found relatively little. Whether that was because they were good at covering their tracks or our leak was hiding their involvement, I couldn't tell.

An interesting nugget of information I did find considered the wildlife. There were an increasing number of wolf sightings.

So Icehill wasn’t a solitary event? I thought, sipping from my tea. Was something drawing them down the mountains?

The humming of Leah’s magic quit before I could ponder it further.

My mage let go of the representative’s forehead and turned towards me. ‘I have a location.’

I put down my cup and moved towards the map on the wall. ‘Show me.’