《Frost Mage》 Chapter 1: Mammoth The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep. -R. Frost Water. Frostilicus Shatterblade, or Frost for short, craved it. Yearned for it. His mouth was completely dry, his body on the brink of collapse. There was only one thing he needed more than anything. Water. "Any last words?" the rifle-bearing corporal said aloud in a gruff voice. Frost couldn''t quite make out the man''s sentence. "Very well," the man said. "I hereby sentence you to execution by firing squad." If only there were water nearby, Frost thought. A lot of it. "For the capital crime of the use of frost magic," the corporal said, his final words containing an emphatic sound of contempt. Frostilicus was bound hand and foot and stood alone. From his hanging head, his bruised eyes flitted upward, looking his executioner directly in the eyes. These men. These cruel men would kill him, dried out like a prune. They knew how to weaken him. How to destroy him. "Men," the corporal said, raising his right hand. A dozen Flintlock riflemen trained their sights directly on Frost. They had taken him out here to kill him. Execution-style with no trial. "Take aim." So this is how it would end? His life flashed before his eyes. His parents. His brother. This mission. This last-ditch mission to find the frost mages. The only ones who might be able to help. But that didn''t matter now. There was a rustle in the bushes beyond the squad. Frost shifted his gaze. In an instant, branches snapped, an entire tree bent over, and a huge thumping sound reverberated on the ground below. The men jerked their heads. Bursting out from the snowy evergreen forest was an enormous, 14 foot tall mammoth with menacing ivory tusks and shaggy brown hair covered in tangled branches? The beast ducked its head and charged directly at the Flintlock squad from behind. Frost smirked. The riflemen quickly fanned out in fear of being trampled by the oncoming beast. Their mouths gaped, and their eyes widened in momentary fear. The twig-covered mammoth sprinted through the group, knicking one of the fleeing men with its tusks as it made its way toward its real target¡ªFrostilicus. Peering down from the top of the beast was the smiling face of his brother, Frolick. "Miss me?" Frolick said. "Molly here brought you a present." The woolly mammoth curled her trunk and released a refreshing blast of warm water.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. "She''s been holding it in her trunk for a long time, so you better be grateful," Frolick said matter-of-factly. "Told her not to drink none of it." As the water touched Frostilicus'' skin, he gulped, tasting the sweet water in his parched mouth. The water was life itself. "Well, don''t just stand there, idiot," Frolick said. "Make one of your frost thingies." Right, Frostilicus thought to himself. This might be his only chance. Breathing in, Frost focused his mind and pulled on the water, lifting it into the air. The droplets levitated above the ground like a flying carpet. Malleable. Transparent. Light moved through the aquatic blanket like a globular prism of shifting color. He just had to will it to take a form that he had studied. But what? There wasn''t any time to be clever, so he acted on instinct. The water moved quickly like a triggered hunting trap. It snapped into place like molten metal cast into a mold and instantly cooled. The water covered Frostilicus'' body from head to toe and then froze. Frozen patterns wove across the newly plated armor like the mosaic of a skilled artisan. Geometric shapes that looked like something from another world grew and expanded in a patchwork quilt, containing deep mathematical secrets. As the water hardened to ice, it crackled, giving off a white mist. Only Frostilicus'' shadowy form rose from within the fog, cold blue eyes piercing through. "Get him," the gruff voice of the corporal said. "Kill the frost mage." As the steam departed, Frostilicus emerged looking like an ancient king, wearing armor fit for a god. His helmet was topped with icy spires that jutted into the sky. His celestial, hulking form would leave nightmares scared. And his two-handed frost blade was large enough to slay a giant. Crack, crack. The men unloaded a volley of bullets directly at Frostilicus, peppering his frost armor with balls of ironshot. They didn''t pierce. Frost forms took on the characteristics of the things upon which they were based. And this armor had been designed as steel. "Reload," the same voice said. "Finish him where he stands." Blue eyes glowing, Frostilicus charged. He raised his frost sword and ran at the men. Use of his powers granted him supernatural strength and speed. He leaped forward swinging his two-handed blade and slicing in half the rifle of the nearest Flintlock soldier. A second man raised a gun and set it point-blank at Frostilicus. At that range, he just might pierce, but Frostilicus sidestepped, grabbing the rifle as he did. He lifted it up and rammed it into the man''s arm, knocking him to the ground. Meanwhile, Molly barreled into a pair of soldiers, knocking them over while stomping over the legs of one. The man yelled in agony. Then the beast jerked her head and managed to snag the trousers of a third solder. She flicked her head, sending the man flying into a heap. "Good girl," Frolick said. "You''ll get a special treat for that one. Style points." Crack. Frost''s head snapped back as a bullet slammed into his helmet. The sound of metal hitting metal echoed through the evergreen forest in a resounding gong. Frostilicus stumbled, falling backward onto his rear as his head throbbed in pain. His eardrums rang loudly as all other sound was drowned out. His sword fell to the ground, inaudibly clanging against a rock. Holding a rifle pointed directly at Frost was the corporal. His face was grim and serious. His eyes narrow. His teeth clenched. "Die, frost mage scum." Frost could only read his lips, but he got the picture. He gathered himself. His posture straightened as he lifted himself back up, grasping the hilt of his sword. "It can''t be," one of the men said. "He''s a demigod, sir." "He ain''t no god," the corporal said, retrieving something from his belt. "I''ll show you a god." The corporal withdrew his dueling sword. Crack, crack. Two more rounds of musket-fire slammed against Frostilicus. He brushed them off. He had formed his armor well. The corporal lunged, his dueling sword clasped firmly in both hands. Frostilicus recovered himself just in time to block with his own blade. Compared to the frost blade, the corporal''s sword was a puny thing. Frost''s glowing blue eyes pulsed brighter as he stared down the corporal from over their crossed blades. Then he whispered raspily, "You''re too late, soldier." Frost pushed back hard on the blades and then kicked, his frost-metal boot slamming into the man''s gut and sending him tumbling to the ground. He thought he made out the crunch of broken ribs. The corporal moaned in agony. Molly trumpeted her brown trunk and flicked her tail as she prepared for another charge at the soldiers. "Giddyup," Frolick shouted from up top. The soldiers weren''t quite sure what to make of the shaggy creature. The Northern Reach wasn''t exactly in the heart of the Flintlock Empire. Mammoths were a sight to behold. "Retreat," a soldier said, panic in his tone. He turned around and ran at a full sprint. It wasn''t long before the others followed. Even the injured corporal staggered off, clutching his ribs. Chapter 2: North "Now that was an epic rescue. Glad I came at the right time, eh?" Frolick said. "Saved your skin again, as usual." Frost only rolled his eyes. He''d be hearing about this one for weeks on end. "I almost had them." "Almost having them is a big difference from having them," Frolick said. "In one case, you''re dead, and in the other case, they are." "Yes, yes," Frost said. He deadpanned, "Thank you for saving me. Once again." "You don''t need fancy frost powers to do good in the world, Frost," Frolick said. "All you need is a little luck and timing." "What is Molly covered in?" Frost asked, pulling tangled vines and pine needles from the mammoth''s shaggy brown wool. "Oh?" Frolick said. "Used one of my camos, I did." He smiled, glancing proudly at Molly''s wool. Twigs, branches, and pine needles were tangled up in it. Several branches were even elaborately strung across her tusks like tinsel. Given Molly''s size, the ''camo'' didn''t do much to hide her so much as to give her a very strange appearance. She looked sort of like a druidic elephant. "You covered her in that?" "Sure did," Frolick said. "Camouflage." "I''m not sure¡ª" Molly raised her trunk in a vertical ''S'' shape and let off a high-pitched trumpeting sound. "Well, look now," Frolick said, patting the mammoth on the trunk. "You insulted her. She wants to be treated like a queen. There, there, girl." Molly cooed affectionately as Frolick rubbed her snout. "Sorry," Frost said, throwing up his hands. "Well, it worked. Thank you." "Of course, it worked," Frolick said. "My plans always work. Why do you think you''re still alive?" "Right," Frost said. He was thankful that his brother had come to his rescue. He just wished Frolick would be a little more pleasant about it. "Now we can get on with the mission," Frolick said. "I think we are getting real close." The mission. Frostilicus nodded. They were seeking out the frost mages. The last bastion of hope was supposed to be up here somewhere in the Northern Reach. Specifically, they needed to find Hailstone Keep, the storied stronghold of Frosthaven. Neither of the boys had ever been there before, but they could trace their lineage on their father''s side back to settlers from the region. Their father had given them an old map on a leather hide detailing the directions to Hailstone. It was a long distance off, but the boys had already made it well into Frosthaven territory. It shouldn''t be much farther now. "Don''t you think it''s odd," Frostilicus said. "That the Flintlock Empire is all the way up here? I mean, we fled here to get away from the Empire, didn''t we?" Frolick stroked his chin. "You''ve got a point there, big brother." "We''ve faced Flintlock before, but that was back home in Capscatia. This was supposed to be Frosthaven territory." Frost furrowed his brows. "Maybe the Flintlock are hunting the frost mages here too?" Frolick said. "Searching for them just the same as we are. Except, of course, that they''re trying to kill them instead." Frostilicus paused. It would make sense. The Flintlock were actively hunting down and executing anyone who even remotely exhibited any sort of frost powers¡ªthe Frostmarked as they were known. That was why the brothers fled their home. Of course, it made sense that the Flintlock would come here too. Seeking the capital of frost magic.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Correction. That was why Frostilicus had to flee. Frolick came along out of pure loyalty to his brother. Their parents had protested even while beaming with pride. "It seems our problem with the Flintlock is a global one," Frostilicus said. "They are rooting out and trying to kill anyone who''s a Frostmarked, even all the way up here. But why? Maybe they see them as a threat." "If only they knew the truth about frost magic," Frolick said. "As I do." "And what possible truth might that be?" Frost asked, tilting his head. "That it''s useless," Frolick said. Frost raised a brow. "Useless to anyone with only half a brain. Fortunately for you, I''m the brains of this family, and I''m here to look after you." Frostilicus crossed his arms over his chest. Sometimes conversing with Frolick was a pointless exercise. "But," Frolick said. "At least we came out of that little skirmish a little smarter all around." Frost was silent. "We now know that the Flintlock are susceptible to camouflaged mammoths." "Somehow, I highly doubt that will work twice," Frost said. "Why not?" Frolick said. "Molly here is a skilled skirmisher. She''s seen many a battle before and come out on top, haven''t you, Molly?" He patted her on the head. Molly flicked her tail and nudged closer to Frolick. Frost''s lips formed a line. His brother had a way with animals. It was an innate ability. Whereas Frost had taken after their father with his frost magic, Frolick was like their mother. He communed with the natural world in a preternatural way. Both were extremely rare gifts, but Animal Speakers were generally seen as harmless and left alone. Frost wielders, on the other hand, were executed. Their family had been forced to hide him due to the fact that Frostilicus had the ability. While his father''s abilities were low latency enough that they could be suppressed, Frost was too young, his powers too raw and ripe with potential. And it showed. Ice did funny things around Frost. It formed shapes seemingly out of nowhere. Geometric patterns wove themselves together and danced on the surface of the ice. Even glass or other smooth surfaces would frost over and weave stars. It was an easy test for the Flintlock to spot someone with frost powers. All they had to do was bring some glass. In fact, Testing Glass, as it had come to be known, had been widely used in Capscatia to identify and then execute the Frostmarked. Going into hiding hadn''t meant Frost had been totally in the dark. His father had kept up his blacksmithery, and Frost could help with the trade when the Flintlock were not around. But with more troops pouring into Capscatia, he had spent more and more time living out of a hidden room in the basement. After several months of hiding, Frost had had enough. He''d also seen too many of his friends, extended family even, get executed. Of course, Frost had wanted to stand up and fight. To beat back the Flintlock where they stood. And he could do it too. His abilities were unusually strong. But his father convinced him to hold off. To fight alone would only lead to more deaths. Even if Frost managed to overpower a small number of Flintlock, they would come back with a bigger army and execute the entire village. It had been done before. In a way, Frost''s decision to leave was the safer choice, and so his parents supported him. The Flintlock would find him eventually if he remained behind. And besides, he was technically an adult now, old enough to make it on his own. His parents would have come, but traveling in a large group would attract more suspicion. Plus, there was Frost''s little brother¡ªTommy. Frolick''s decision to accompany Frost had turned out to be an extremely fortunate one. As much a Frost hated to admit it, Frolick navigated the Northern Reach like it was their own backwoods forest. Their skills complemented each other like a fork and a knife at a dinner table. On their journey, Frost provided ice shelters to shield them from the hazardous weather while Frolick and Molly navigated the terrain. Together, they were anyone''s best chance at finding the legendary Frost Mages. Even in a place like the Northern Reach. But apparently, the Flintlock Army had the same idea. And they had spotted the conjured ice shelter from a mile away. They had taken every precaution when raiding Frost and Frolick''s camp, skillfully removing every bit of water from Frost''s immediate person before binding him hand and foot. Luckily, Frolick had been away during the raid, looking for food with Molly. That had turned out to be a saving grace and the only reason Frost was still alive right now. Frost shuddered at the thought. How close he''d come to death. He could see the look on his mother''s eyes when she learned of his passing. No words would describe the grief she''d experience. Still, he needed to press on. The frost mages were the only ones who could teach him to master his powers. The Flintlock Empire was growing stronger and more oppressive every day. They''d killed dozens from his village alone. Who knew how many they''d execute in their thirst for power and domination. Someone had to do something about it. And that someone would be him. "You done with your daydreaming?" Frolick asked, waving a hand in front of Frost''s face. Frost jerked his head, breaking his train of thought. He had been thinking about his past. Pondering his fate. "Good, dreamer boy," Frolick said. "Time to go." Frost shrugged and shook his head. His brother was a nuisance but a loyal one. "Where is Dad''s map leading us next?" Frost asked, looking his little brother in the eyes. Frolick climbed up Molly as easily as a rider saddling a horse. A raggedy old map was curled up in his hand. "Well, only one direction to go," Frolick said. "Where''s that?" Frost asked, a puzzled look on his face. "North." Chapter 3: Spearfishing Frost felt the cool stream of water rush past his ankles as he walked barefoot over the river''s rocky bottom. The river was surrounded by pine trees and lined with small bushes. Where there was water, there were plants. The forest was thick alongside the river. More importantly, however, the river was full of salmon. Frost had never seen such an abundance in his entire life. There were hundreds, thousands of fish that blanketed the river like a carpet. They swam together in unison in a mad rush to make it upstream. "This is incredible," Frolick said with wide eyes. "I''d never thought there was a place like this. So pristine." "It''s beautiful," Frostilicus said. "We could live here." Molly trumpeted from the shore. She was hungrily munching on the thick green grass nearby. "Well, Molly seems to like it here," Frolick said. "That''s good enough for me." As Frost and Frolick walked over the riverbed, the fish curved around them, adjusting their trajectory to avoid the newcomers. As the two brothers waded deeper in, a hollow circle formed around them. It was as there was some sort of invisible force field that the fish wouldn''t touch. "They''re smart little critters," Frolick said. "Must know we want to eat them." "I wonder where they''re in a rush to get to," Frost said. "Eh, must be spawning season," Frolick said. "They''re going to lay their eggs and such." Indeed. That made sense. Frost''s eyes were glued to the fish. They were huge. Some of them were almost as big as a small dog. "We just need to figure out how we''re going to catch one," Frolick said. "Afraid I didn''t bring any fishing line or nets." "Hmmm," Frost said. "Me neither." "Maybe you could make one with your frost magic?" Frolick said, pleading. "It''s about time you did your part. Plenty of water here." Frost shook his head. "It doesn''t work that way," he said. "Hard to form ice into string. Plus, I''m not very familiar with that form." "Excuses, excuses," Frolick said. "You did a sword pretty well? Maybe we could use that." Frostilicus searched his memory. He had to be intimately familiar with an object in order to create a frost form of it. Working in his father''s blacksmithery had given him a fine-tuned understanding of armor and weaponry. But fishing materials? Not so much. Suddenly, his eyes lit up. He had just the idea that might work. "I know that look on your face," Frolick said, smiling. "What do you have in mind big brother?" Frostilicus reached out with his hand and pulled. In an instant, a band of water rose from the riverbed forming a long cylindrical shape in his hand. The water twisted into a lanced spiral and then extended into a perfectly straight line.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. A spear. White mist emanated from the newly frost formed object as it hardened in Frost''s hand. Patterned stars formed along the spear. The natural artwork of frost magic¡ªhexagonal stars that came in many shapes and sizes. Frost tossed the spear to Frolick while he repeated the pull, forming a second spear for himself. Frolick''s smile widened, and his eyes lit up. "That''s brilliant, Frost," he said. "We''ll go spearfishing." The two brothers lifted their spears overhead and took turns throwing them into the water like darts. Frost got the hang of it quickly. In order to form a weapon, he had to have an innate understanding of its properties. That made it easy to wield. For Frolick, it took a little work to get used to handling the spear. He wasn''t much of a warrior though he could get by well enough. But after a few tries under his brother''s tutelage, he got the hang of it. Frost was the first to spear a fish. It flailed at the end of the spear as Frost drew it in. Frolick managed to land a second not long after that. Frolick licked his lips. "Yum," he said. ... The warm fire flickered in the setting sun as the two brothers heated their hands while cooking their newly caught fish. The delicious smell permeated their nostrils. Grilled salmon was a special treat they didn''t always get back home. Now they had plenty to go around. Molly had fallen asleep shortly after Frolick milked her, retrieving a bucketful of warm liquid. She was slumped on her side nearby. With every breath, her snout curled in and out, letting out a rather loud snore. It didn''t bother the brothers too much as they''d long grown accustomed to the noise. "You think Mom and Dad are okay?" Frolick said, his eyes reflecting the flickering light of the campfire. "And little Tommy?" "Yes," Frost said. "I do. Dad is very capable. He''ll take care of Mom and Tommy." "I mean, they could find him out at any point. He''s a Frostmarked too." "His powers are well-hidden," Frost said. "I can''t remember the last time I saw him use his powers." "I know," Frolick said. "I just worry sometimes. About them." "By not using his powers, they grow weaker and stay hidden," Frost said. "It''s better that way." "It''s just that I miss them," Frolick said, his lips forming a line. Frost nodded. He missed them too. They''d been away from home on merchant trips before but never so permanently. Not like this. The fact that they''d not only left their family, their village, and headed into the unknown was still hitting him. Well, the other fact that he''d almost died was also sinking in. "You think we''ll find them?" Frolick said. "The frost mages." "You seemed pretty confident that we would yesterday," Frost said. "Just need to go north. Follow the map." "I know," Frolick said. "That''s just talk. I mean, I hope we find them. For your sake, anyway. But what if we don''t? Dad''s map looks very old." "We''ll find them," Frostilicus said. "We''ve got to." "I mean, it''s not like we''ve ever been up here before." "We''ve got to try," Frost said. "If we don''t find them, then we''ll live out in the wild like you always wanted." Frolick''s lips curled upward, and he tilted his head. "Yes, well, that wouldn''t be so bad. Two brothers, ruffians in the wilderness. I like that idea." "Win, win," Frost said. The truth was he wasn''t so keen to stay alone in the wilderness like this for too long. He was on a mission. He desperately wanted to join the fight against the Flintlock Empire. The things they were doing, the oppression, the executions. It had to stop. His brother was different, though. Frolick cared about family and keeping them safe more than anything but wasn''t about to start a revolution on his own. He didn''t have the personality for it. Yet that was why he was so good for Frost. Frost tended to get into trouble leading the charge while Frolick came up for back-up and was usually the only one around to get Frost out. As recently evidenced by their latest skirmish. "Think they''re ready?" Frolick said, peering at the salmon. The meat was turning pink as it sizzled in the hot fire. "They look ready to me," Frost said. He pulled his salmon out of the campfire. It was speared through by a small stick that had held it in place. Frost looked at the fish, taking in the aroma. He hadn''t eaten anything solid in days. Fresh salmon and milk? A delicious combo. He smacked his lips. Frolick pulled out his salmon and looked it over. "Grace before meals?" he said. Frost nodded. A small reminder of home. The two bowed their heads and silently whispered a thanksgiving to the Almighty. Then they chowed down. Chapter 4: Bears Frost awoke in the dead of night to the sound of snapping twigs and¡ªwas that gnawing? Molly and Frolick''s snoring reverberated in the backdrop. The two seemed to be perfectly in sync, somehow, like a symphony of guttural breaths. It seemed, somehow, that Frolick''s being an Animal Speaker extended deep in the subconscious world of dreams. Not a place Frost wanted to visit any time soon. Frostilicus lifted his head and peered around their camp. Not that it was much of a camp. Just a bed of leaves under a spruce tree with a burnt-out campfire and¡ªleftover fish. Sitting over the site of their leftover game was an enormous twelve-foot-tall bear. The creature had to be at least a half-ton in size with thick brown hair and clawed hands that were greedily shoving the fish remains into its mouth. "Ummm, Frolick," Frost said. He grabbed his brother and shoved. "I don''t want to go to school today," Frolick said in his sleep, briefly opening his eyes. Then he closed them and continued to snore loudly. Frost would have thought that at least Molly would wake up. She was a wild animal, wasn''t she? Perhaps Frolick''s influence had overly domesticated. He''d have to have a talk with his brother after this was over about treating her like a queen, perhaps a little too much. The bear jerked its head. The next thing Frost knew, it had grabbed onto him with one of its claws and was dragging him out for examination. Not good. What was it he was supposed to do again, play dead? With one eye open, Frost''s heartbeat quickened. Why was Frolick still sleeping? He had the ability to befriend animals. Was he just going to stay deep asleep while Frost was eaten by this thing? Frost clenched his teeth. The bear licked Frost''s leg as if it were sizing him up to eat. Then its eyes glowed red. That startled Frostilicus, causing him to wince. "A dire bear," he whispered to himself. Then he did the only thing he could think to do. He kicked it in the snout. Enough was enough. The bear roared, stumbling back in surprise, clasping at its bruised nose. Probably kicking the red-eyed monstrosity was not one of Frost''s greatest ideas. "What''s going on?" Frolick said, snapping awake. The roar got his attention. "Oh dear, that doesn''t look good." "Could use your powers right about now," Frost said, eyes locked tightly onto the creature. "To calm the beast." The bear charged. Instead, Frolick tossed him a bucket of water. What in the Five Causes? Frost thought. He reacted the only way he could, pulling on the water and snapping it into a frost form. The water coalesced quickly around his body, solidifying into armor. The bucket didn''t contain very much water, so Frost''s armor was thinner than usual. He also didn''t have enough liquid to create any practical weaponry.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. As the water hardened into ice, giving off its usual white mist, Frost''s eyes glowed blue. He felt a surge of energy course through his veins, driving him onward even as the gigantic bear slammed into him, lifting him up and biting into his right shoulder while clawing at his plate. Frost instinctively pushed back on the creature. He wasn''t strong relative to the bear, but the use of frost magic had the interesting side effect of doubling his strength and speed while increasing his dexterity. It was the reason he had so effectively driven back the Flintlock yesterday. And yet, in comparison to a brown bear, Frost was rather weak and helpless. But the bear snapped back anyway. More out of surprise than anything. Right, the cold. Frost armor was unusually cold. The bear wouldn''t be too happy about that. It growled. "What did you do to piss it off, Frost?" Frolick said. He turned to the bear with open palms in a peacemaking gesture. No use. Molly had stood up too, though she seemed to be a little discombobulated. The tussle had finally gotten her attention. "It attacked me," Frost said, punching the bear again in the snout. It shuddered and thrust a claw at him, knocking him to the ground. "Use your powers to calm that thing down, will you?" "Did you attack it first, Frost?" Frolick said. "Maybe," Frost snapped. The bear charged Frost''s fallen figure. He tried to roll out of the way, but it was far too fast. Even a doubly fast human was no match for a dire bear. "Here, girl," Frolick said, holding out the second leftover salmon. "Goood girl. We''re not here to hurt you." The dire bear turned its head, briefly shifting its focus to the food. Its red eyes pulsed, softening for a moment, before turning bright red. Then it jerked its head and charged Frost again. "Better run," Frolick said. Frost took his advice, dodging behind a large pine tree. It was like a child''s game. Running around a tree to avoid being tagged or, in this case, eaten. Fortunately for Frost, he was supernaturally quick. But unfortunately for him, the bear was even faster. "Being an Animal Speaker doesn''t automatically mean I can befriend any animal," Frolick said. "It''s hard to build a friendship after hostilities have been announced." Right, Frost thought to himself. He made a mental note to learn more about Frolick''s powers. He wasn''t as familiar with the nuances as he should be given that his own brother had the ability. "But then again, it also doesn''t always work on dire animals," Frolick said. If only he could get to the river, Frost thought. He turned his head. He might make it. The water was only 30 feet away. His pull could extend 10 feet, so he only technically had to make 20 feet to be within range. But that bear was fast. Frost made a break for it. He ran at a full sprint from behind the tree toward the water. He could hear the bear directly behind him, ready to snatch him up and beat him to a pulp. Breathing rapidly, Frost lifted one leg after another and then tripped. He stumbled face-first into the dirt and rolled. He wasn''t having a good day. The bear closed in, its sharp claws extended. Frost''s armor wouldn''t be able to take much more of a beating. In an instant, Molly slammed the forefront of her tusks and trunk directly into the beast and sent it sprawling to the ground. She let out a loud trumpet sound and lowered her head again, preparing to charge. The bear looked up hesitantly, recovering from the fall as if deciding whether or not to fight. Molly decided to go for it. She charged again. "Go Molly," Frolick said, grinning widely. "Just like I trained her. She''s a wonder, isn''t she?" Frostilicus picked himself up and watched the brawl. The bear roared as it was slammed into a second and third time by Molly''s tusks, one of them piercing its side. A small stream of blood ran out. The bear was big, nearly as tall as she was, but Molly had far more mass. She was a big girl. Rather than fight on, the dire bear turned and put distance between itself and the woolly mammoth. She let out a whimper and moaned. Frolick walked over to Molly and patted her on the back. She lifted her trunk aggressively toward the retreating brown bear. "Umm, Frost," Frolick said, unsteady. "Well, that''ll show it," Frost said. "You''ve done a good, Molly. Bear is on retreat." Molly didn''t budge. She seemed to ignore Frostilicus. "Frost, I don''t think she''s signaling retreat exactly," Frolick said. "That''s not what she''s saying." "What do you mean?" Frost said, annoyed. "Of course she''s retreating." "No," Frolick said, with wide eyes. "She''s calling for backup." In that moment, a second red-eyed bear leaped out and attacked from behind. This one was much larger. Chapter 5: Dire The second dire bear sunk its teeth into Molly''s side, blood seeping down its throat. Frolick''s eyes widened in fear as Molly''s trunk curled in agony. This bear was likely the mate of the first. And it looked angry. Very angry. Its eyes glowed red hot with an inner rage. It had a rugged, disheveled look to it with unkempt hair and elongated claws and teeth. Definitely a dire animal, Frolick thought to himself. Molly let out a high-pitched squeal as she attempted to pull away from her attacker. She was trying to reposition herself to charge. But the bear held its jaws tightly locked onto her side. Where was Frost? Frolick thought, looking around. Had he abandoned them now? His brother was supposed to be the fighter in the family, not Frolick. There was no time to wait. Time to take things into his own hands. Frolick picked up a large stick and ran at the beast, slamming it into the bear''s back. It landed with a thud, barely bruising the creature. The bear momentarily turned its attention to Frolick, striking him with its claw. The blow left four parallel cuts across Frolick''s right shoulder and knocked him to the ground. The pain was visceral. Frolick clenched his teeth as the sting shot through his nervous system like an electric jolt. He grasped at the wound. Molly was no better off. The bitemark in her side was pouring blood. The wound wasn''t fatal yet, but would be with a little more work. The monstrous creature gnashed its teeth and stared intently at the woolly mammoth. Its bloodlust was palpable. The dire bear sensed a worthy kill. And a meal to last the season. "No," Frolick said, weakly. He stood up and took a defensive posture. "Don''t hurt my girl." The reality was there was little he could do to stop its relentless attack. Molly was tough, but against something like this, even she might not survive. Frolick narrowed his eyes, red blood rushing down his shoulder. He wouldn''t stand by and watch Molly be killed like this. But what could he do? He picked up a rock and clenched it in his hand. If he could provide a distraction, maybe, just maybe, Molly could get it with one of her tusks. Or at least bodyslam it, as he''d taught her. As big as the dire bear was, Molly was bigger. If she could just use that to her advantage.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Frolick threw his rock, which landed on the bear''s back. The bear pivoted its head. It was more annoyed than before. Its eyes glowed red, while saliva dripped from its mouth. Oh dear, this would not end well. Frolick''s eyes flitted. Where in the Five Causes was Frost? As the bear ran at Frolick, he wondered whether he would amount to a full meal. He wasn''t very muscular and had very little fat on his body. Probably not, he decided. In an instant, a long blue spear soared through the air, embedding itself into the bear''s back. The beast roared in anger, pivoting its body upon impact. The stick protruded out of it like the antennae of a giant insect. A second spear repeated the maneuver, flying through the air like a dart and burying itself into the creature''s shoulder. Frostilicus stepped into plain view, magnificently coated in icy blue armor. His helmet was crowned with spiked spires that rose to the sky, and his plate glinted in the moonlit night. Burning through the dark interior of his armored helm were two glowing blue eyes that matched the redness of the dire bear''s for luminescent ire. The bear let out a rictus snarl. Placing four paws on the ground, it charged at Frost. This time, he was ready. Frostilicus withdrew a third spear and readied his stance. As the bear approached, Frost ran toward it with his spear extended in front of his body. As the gap between the two light-eyed warriors closed, Frost extended his weapon and plunged it into the ground. He used it as a pole vault, catapulting himself over the head of the beast, landing on the other side. As he maneuvered through the air, he twisted his body and landed facing the back of the confused creature. Retrieving his spear, Frostilicus lifted it over his right shoulder and plunged it into the bear''s lower back, directly into its lung. Then he released the frost forms, dissolving all three of the ice spears sticking out of the dire animal into pure water. Blood rushed out of the bear''s side and shoulder where the first two spears had been. Out of the bear''s back, air rushed out of its deflating lung. The bear was left gasping for breath. It turned and glared at Frostilicus. It sensed its own death, and yet¡ª And yet, it wouldn''t accept defeat. Like a proud, dying soldier, the dire bear lunged. At that point, Frost pulled. The released water from his former weapons rematerialized in his hands, again in the form of a spear. This one three times the size of all the others. He immediately plunged the weapon''s brunt side into the ground at a 45-degree angle with the spiked tip facing the oncoming dire bear. The monstrous creature lunged forward in its final assault, landing directly on the top of the spear, impaled through its heart. Chapter 6: Gauze "Well," Frolick said. "Now that was an epic rescue. Not as good a mine, mind you, but it was something." "You''re welcome," Frostilicus said. He lifted the spear from the bear''s heart. Blood immediately rushed from the kill-wound, pooling on the ground. "By the Five that really hurt, though," Frolick said, looking over his own wound. The claw marks were as red as the dawn. "Stings like a giant centipede. Fivin'' dire animals. You should have heard him too, Frost. He was very angry." Frost prodded the animal with his spear. He released the water and re-formed it as a hunting knife. "He was saying a whole lot of curse words, the likes of which I can''t repeat." Frolick made a zipping motion over his mouth. "It would insult the Almighty, it would." Frostilicus used the newly formed frost knife to slice open the carcass and then began dressing the animal. "Oh, I can''t look," Frolick said. "You''ve been hunting before," Frost said, sighing. "And this food will last us a long time." He understood that his brother''s affinity for animals made him a bit squeamish. But this was important for their survival. "I know, I know," Frolick said. "I just hate to see it done, that''s all. Even on dire ones." "I''m glad we made it out alive," Frost said, continuing with his work. "Thanks for keeping it distracted while I went for water." "There was something downright unnatural about that thing," Frolick said, shuddering. "As much as I love animals, the dire animals I''d prefer to stay far away from. Still no idea what makes them that way, Frost, it''s not normal, I tell you." "Mom said the same thing," Frost said. "She always said to steer clear of them. I''ve never encountered anything quite like this before. They were strong." "Me neither," Frolick said. "And I hope we never do again." He winced as he pressed a hand against the slash mark in his shoulder. "You should let me cauterize that," Frostilicus said. Frolick gulped and shook his head. "You could bleed out," Frost said. "Or get infected. Let me help." "Fine, fine," Frolick said. "Get it over with." He shut his eyes.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Frost filled his cupped hand with water from a bucket nearby. He poured a few drops over Frolick''s bleeding shoulder. Then he held his hand over the water. It froze in place, forming a hardened, white blanket over the wound, constricting nearby veins and staunching the blood loss. Freezing water was an easy trick. It didn''t require pulling it into a particular form. Instead, he simply hardened it into whatever form it was already in. "Eh, that''s not too bad," Frolick said. "Stings a little, but it''s numbed the pain." "That should hold for now," Frostilicus said. "It''ll melt in a couple hours or so, but by then, your natural healing process will be underway." Frost repeated the trick with Molly. She stomped in protest and nearly knocked Frost over with her tusks and snout during the procedure. Frolick managed to settle her down enough for Frost to apply the freeze gauze over her wound. After that, she refused to acknowledge Frost''s presence and kept her head turned up, looking away from him. "I think she took it personally," Frost said, rubbing his bruised shoulder from where Molly had knicked him. "She''ll be fine," Frolick said, patting her back to ease her wounded pride. "She''s just not used to being treated for wounds. Mammoths are very sensitive creatures, they are. And Molly''s no exception." Frost wasn''t sure what to make of that. Frolick said some very strange things at times. But then again, his brother did have a deep understanding of animals. Oh well, Frolick was probably right. "In any case, the meat''s all done," Frostilicus said, changing the subject. "I just need to freeze it over." He coated the meat in a thin layer of water. Then he used the same trick to freeze a layer of ice over it, encapsulating the meet in frost. That would keep it from spoiling any time soon. He couldn''t freeze the meat directly into ice but had to apply his magic to water that was mostly uncontaminated by other substances. There was a science to it, but that wasn''t something he understood. "Only one problem with the plan," Frolick said, admiring his brother''s work. Frost looked up. The sun was rising in the distance, the morning creeping in over the cold, snow-laden terrain. "How are we going to bring it with us?" Frolick said. "That''s a lot of food. We don''t have the right equipment to tie it to Molly''s back. I''ve got a bit of rope, but it isn''t nearly enough." Frost stroked his chin. That was a good question. He had been so focused on dressing the meat that he''d hadn''t bothered to think of how he would transport it. "How about a sled?" Frolick said. "You could make one with your frost powers." "It doesn''t work like that," Frost said. "I can only form things that I''m intimately familiar with. Even with weapons, I have to have made them many times before I can replicate them in frost form." "I really still don''t understand why that is," Frolick said. "You froze water over our wounds and over the bear meat. That wasn''t a form." "That''s different," Frost said. "I didn''t form it into any particular shape. I just froze it in place. To pull it into a form takes a lot more intuitive understanding of that form." "I would think you could make something easy like a bobsled. It''s not nearly as complicated as armor." "I don''t know why my powers work the way they do," Frost said. "But I can make metal armor practically in my sleep from working so many hours with Dad in the smithery. But I''ve never built a sled before." "So how about we make one then?" Frolick said. "We''ll figure it out the long way. How hard could it be?" He looked around. There were plenty of trees. "Not a bad idea," Frost said. He pulled on the water in the nearby bucket, forming into two small hand-axes. "Let''s get to work." Chapter 7: Dinner It turned out that making a sled was rather difficult. Getting the wood lined up along the base of the sled was hard enough, but getting the runners set along the bottom so that they aligned just right required a certain amount of patience and precision. In the end, they came up with something that worked. It wasn''t going to win any awards, but it got the job done. Frost had a newfound appreciation for the work of a good carpenter. He decided that it was a skill he ought to try to pick up one day. Frost also wondered what it would be like to combine frost magic with carpentry. Could he frost form tables, chairs, or even whole buildings with water? It was an interesting question. Truth be told, Frostilicus didn''t know if there was any limit to how big of a form could be made with frost magic. He''d never had the occasion to try. Following that, their journey ahead was long and arduous. For Frolick, riding on Molly''s back was quite comfortable. Her shaggy wool was snug and warm. But she continued to hold a grudge against Frost for the freeze gauze and refused to allow him to ride her. Frolick had several private conversations to try to change her mind, but she wouldn''t budge. She was a very stubborn mammoth. So Frost walked. By the next day, he''d walked over fifteen miles. There were no significant encounters. Just increasingly snow-laden terrain, rivers, and coniferous forests. The bear meat was extremely handy. The brothers had no reason to worry about food for the foreseeable future with it in tow. The single dire bear provided enough food to last the entire season. ... "Sorry about Molly," Frolick said over the warm campfire. Molly had her back turned to Frost and was flapping her tail, refusing to acknowledge his presence. Her eyes were closed as she ignored their conversation. Bear meat sizzled on their makeshift grill. Drops of grease occasionally landed on the fire, fanning the flames. "The freeze gauze was over a day ago," Frostilicus said. His legs were sore from the difficult hike. "You have to understand that animals are highly emotional creatures," Frolick said. "They operate on instinct. Molly''s quite a special case too. She needs a lot of attention." "I healed her," Frost said, throwing up his arms. "She doesn''t know that," Frolick said. "She thinks you froze her wound after she was already in a lot of pain. Very upsetting for a mammoth. They are noble creatures, you know, and she is a queen." "Then tell her that I healed her," Frost said. "You''re an Animal Speaker. She would likely be dead right now if I hadn''t." "I tried," Frolick said. "But explaining the importance of cauterizing a wound to a mammoth isn''t easy." Frost''s lips formed a line, and he shook his head. This was getting to be very annoying.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. "Well, for what it''s worth," Frolick said, pulling out the leather map. "We''re not that far off. Should only be another week or so." "Huh?" Frost said, ire in his voice. A week wasn''t long if you were riding. Next time he would bring his own pack animal. "How far?" "Maybe another week''s walk to Hailstone Keep," Frolick said. "Though the cartography on this drawing isn''t exactly scientific, so who knows for sure. Could be two." Frost shook his head as he sighed. No good deed goes unpunished, he thought to himself. What could he do? If only he had a horse. Or even a mule. They weren''t so complicated. Not like mammoths. Maybe they''d run into a trader who would sell them one. Not that they had a lot of money. He wondered if there were any villages nearby. "Let me take a look at that," Frost said. The ancient map flapped in Frolick''s hands as he handed it to his brother, who examined it carefully. It held together remarkably well over the years. The map had to be at least 60 years old by Frost''s guess. It wasn''t detailed enough to highlight small villages, but it did have a large marker for Hailstone Keep, their destination. "They say that Hailstone Keep has some of the great wonders of the world," Frostilicus said, still glaring at the map. "I reckon it''ll be quite the place," Frolick said. "I''ve heard that it''s supposed to have ice sculptures that are so realistic people mistake them for the real thing." Frost somehow doubted that. Ice could be finely carved, but how could anyone mistake it for the real thing? The temperature would be off for one thing. And the color. But it was supposed to be a grand place if the stories were true anyway. It was so far away and across such difficult terrain that the only people who bothered to make the trek were a little crazy. As such, the stories that made their way down to Capscatia were always suspicious. Most people assumed that travelers inflated the place''s legend to build up social cachet. Still, the stories were fun to hear. Frost said, "I''ve heard they have ice that looks like stained glass. It makes pictures glow in prismatic light." "I''ve heard that one too," Frolick said, with wide eyes. "But get this¡ªI''ve heard they have figured out a way to make ice that you can eat by mixing it with cream and sugar." "What in the Five?" Frolick said. His brother''s claims were getting to be more and more dubious. "That one can''t possibly be true." "I heard that one from a trader who''d been up there recently, I did," Frolick said, licking his lips. "Said there was nothing he''d tasted in his life quite so good." Frost had always wanted to visit the capital of Frosthaven, but it wasn''t exactly close to home. Aside from the arduous trek, there wasn''t much in the way of trade. Frosthaven had little in terms of exportable resources. Why would it? Frost mages could make things out of ice. But ice melted after a few hours in warm temperature. "Think the meat''s done," Frolick said, lifting his shish kebab of skewered bear. It was medium-rare and grilled to perfection. Frost did likewise, examining his meal and nodding in agreement. The smell wafted through his nostrils and making his belly growl. The two bowed their heads, whispering a prayer of thanksgiving. Then they bit into their food. Frost''s mouth salivated as he tasted the juicy morsel. His taste buds lit up in delight as he chewed, the food sliding smoothly down the back of his throat. "Pass the milk, please," Frost said, pointing toward the bucket of raw mammoth milk at Frolick''s side. Frolick passed it over, checking first to see that Molly wasn''t looking. She was asleep, though her snoring had not yet picked up. Frost lifted the bucket to his mouth and sipped. Five, that was good. All that walking left him famished and parched. Mammoth milk was rich in nutrients, too. He wouldn''t be short on any needed vitamins during this trip. "Can''t say it gets much better than this," Frolick said, salivating as he stared at his kebab. "Out in the woods enjoying a great meal. I could live out here, I could." Then he plopped the morsel into his mouth and smiled. Chapter 8: Hailstone Keep This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Chapter 9: Burns This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Chapter 10: Flintlock If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Chapter 11: Clash From a distance, Frolick watched his brother pull water from the nearby stream, forming it into frost armor. It looked exactly like one of the heavier suits their father had built for rich noblemen. The armor took on the texture, weight, and strength of actual armor. It even contained the very essence of metal, acting and reacting just the way metal would. Frost is just as skilled as Dad, Frolick thought. Then Frost engaged the enemy, felling two of them while another fled, calling for reinforcements. "Fivin'' stubborn man," Frolick muttered to himself. "He''s going to get himself killed." Frolick shook his head. He''d helped his brother out of difficult scrapes before but never against an entire army. They''d never seen an army this big. The contingent that had occupied their own village hadn''t been more than a few hundred strong. Five, there were thousands here. All the way up in the Northern Reach. Who would''ve thought. Shaking his head, Frolick surveyed the scene. There had to be something he could do. If Frostilicus had bet his life on a bold play, maybe Frolick could be of some assistance. As idiotic as his brother could be, Frost was very strong. He''d find a way. Hopefully. Frolick caught sight of the cavalry. Most of the troops were unmounted, but there were at least a thousand horses sitting idle. More interestingly, the Flintlock had conscripted the help of a herd of domesticated muskoxen. The long-haired beasts were strong and well-suited to the northern climate. Their strength had also been extremely handy in lugging supplies, especially cannons, all the way up here. Frolick stroked his chin. "Hmmmm," he said. "Maybe there is something I can do." Looking around, Frolick began snapping twigs and branches from the nearby brush. Then he dropped flat on his back. The riverbed looked to have been drained of what must have been a roaring river, and the mud was still quite soft and sticky. He began to roll around in it like a happy toddler. Five, that was fun. Kids were really onto something. Frolick felt the soft, squishy goo within his hands. Then he lathered himself in it. There was also something quite relaxing about the experience. Becoming one with nature. Soaking in the earth. It was probably good for his skin too. When he was covered from head to toe in the black gunk, he applied the twigs and branches to his body. They didn''t all stick perfectly, but he managed to get enough of them on. When he was done, Frolick looked like a giant walking bush. Frolick looked himself over gleefully. His lips curled upward. "They''ll never know what hit them," he said.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. ... Frost slashed his sword at Corporal Shamus, growling as he threw his weight into the maneuver. The corporal caught the blade with the barrel of his rifle, using it in a defensive pare. His blood-red eyes glowered back at Frost. What in the Five, Frost thought. If this was the same man who''d almost executed him before, something very wrong had happened since then. The corporal pushed back on Frost''s sword, throwing him onto his back with inhuman power. Even with frost-enhanced strength, Frostilicus was thrown backward, landing on his rear, dropping his sword. He winced as the pain jolted him. "I''m here to finish what I started," the corporal said. He wore a triangular black hat with gold trim. His uniform was far too small. Whatever had just happened to him had transformed him so that his muscles bulged, ripping the cloth. The man let out a rictus snarl and charged. Frost didn''t have time to retrieve his sword, so he pulled, water whipping through the air and forming a new one in his hands. Shamus pointed his rifle at Frost and fired point-blank, the blast hitting him in the gut. His metal clanked and a dome-shaped dent formed in the faux steel. It didn''t penetrate the armor, but the dent was noticeable, and it made it hard for Frost to breathe. Moreover, it hurt. The momentary distraction allowed Shamus to bat away Frost''s sword and pin him on the ground, grappling him in place. Five, the man was strong. And heavy. Frost was already at a significant disadvantage in a wrestling match, given that he wore thick, medieval armor. Shamus wore nothing but light cotton cloth. So Frost did the only thing he could¡ªhe dissolved the plate. It instantly turned back into water, creating a momentary cold snap. The frost armor suctioned heat out of the air at an instantaneous rate in order to convert back into water. That didn''t bother Frost, but it surprised Shamus, who nearly jumped back in surprise. Frost used that to his advantage, pulling on water and forming a knife in his hand. The knife gave off white mist as it dazzled with patterned stars across its hilt. Frost rammed it into Shamus'' side. Shamus glared back at Frost with eyes angry. Then he leaned into the blade, and grabbed onto Frost''s wrist. Despite Frost''s double-strength, he was outmatched by the dire soldier. "It ends for you here," Shamus said, his voice raspy and guttural. He cupped both hands around Frost''s clenched fist, which still held the knife. Then Shamus reversed its direction and plunged it into Frost''s heart. Frostilicus gasped, eyes pulsing blue. His mouth gaped, and his eyes widened. Shamus'' lips curled upward in a display of sadistic satisfaction. Frost''s eyes shut, and his breath extinguished, his body falling limp to the ground. His balled hand still held the hilt of the knife near his heart. Shamus stood up and cracked his back. Then he leaned over to examine his kill. A dozen soldiers surrounded him, ready to give hearty congratulations. One of the men let out a "whoop" and clapped his hands over his head. Frost smirked, his lips curling to one side. Then he opened his eyes, blue light pulsating. His clasped hand unfurled, releasing the hilt of the knife. It was bladeless, a trickle of water running down his chest. "He dissolved the knife, Sir," one of the men said, pointing at Frostilicus. Frost jumped to his feet, pulling on the water around him. A spear formed in his hands. Chapter 12: Muskoxen Frost threw the spear, shooting it through the air like an arrow from an archer''s bow. It zipped in a line directly toward Shamus'' heart. The other soldiers stared with wide eyes at the flying weapon, unsure of how to react. But Shamus reacted calmly, his red eyes burning with fire. Reaching out with both hands, he caught the frozen spear in mid-air. Then he snapped it in half. Corporal Shamus grinned, then ran directly at Frostiliucs. His side bled from the knife wound, trailing drops in the mud. The soldiers, now a dozen in total, raised their rifles. Frost pivoted and fled. He was outmatched in a fight against this many soldiers. Frost pulled on the water, forming armor just in time to fend off a volley of musket fire. Bam, bam, bam. The impact of the shots knocked him to the ground, clanking against his newly formed armor. Frostilicus stumbled and fell face first in the mud. A moment later, Shamus slammed his body weight into Frost''s prone form. The corporal proceeded to remove Frost''s helmet. The last thing Frostilicus saw was the image of Shamus Sharpshot knocking him out cold. ... Frolick crept along the edge of the brush on all fours like a cat stalking a mouse. He was careful, quiet, and utterly camouflaged. No way they catch me, Frolick thought. I''ll teach them a thing or two. Most of the soldiers were lined up in orderly rows facing the castle. Those manning the canons bombarded Hailstone Keep with round after round of explosive iron balls. The castle walls wouldn''t last much longer under the duress. The really strange thing is, Frolick thought. Where are those Fivin'' frost mages? You would think they''d put up a fight. No matter. Frolick would have a little fun on his own. Creeping forward with sheer stealth, he made his way toward the back of the company, where they kept their animals untended. There were about four dozen shaggy, hairy muskoxen. They were ugly brutes. The creatures looked like enormous brown hairballs with white horns that curled down and then up like hooks.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. The really noticeable thing, though, was their pungent smell. Frolick walked up and patted one of the creatures on the head. "Guess they call you a muskox for a reason. That musk is disgusting." He held his nose. The creature let out a noise that sounded like a deep, low bellow. It tilted his head to one side, looking askance. "Ah," Frolick said in a quiet but cheerful voice. "You''ve not met an Animal Speaker before, eh? Well, pleased to make your acquaintance." He looked over the creatures. They wore thick black collars and were harnessed together like beasts of burden. Attached to the muskoxen were large empty sleds that had once held the cannons now being used to destroy Hailstone Keep. "Well, well, well," Frolick said. "That''s not too nice now, is it?" The muskox nearest him let out a sad moan. It nuzzled against Frolick''s side. "Let me see about that," Frolick said, reaching out and undoing its straps. They slid right off. "Only four dozen more to go." Frolick worked methodically, weaving in between each animal, careful to keep out of sight of the Flintlock soldiers. It took a good forty minutes to free all the muskoxen of their tethers. None of them had left the group to wander away in the meantime. "Well then," Frolick said, turning to the beasts. "You''re all free now. So go on, git." They stared at him blankly. A couple bellowed and flapped their tails. "C''mon," Frolick said. "Do I need to spell it out for you? You''re free to go." The muskoxen huffed and stared back. They were quiet creatures. Even as an Animal Speaker, Frolick had trouble understanding their intentions. They communicated through snorts and stomps. Subtle gestures carried hidden meaning. "Oh, I see," Frolick said, furrowing his brows. "You want to have a little fun, eh?" The oxen stomped in accord. They shifted their postures, and several jutted their horns. "Well, I like the idea," Frolick said, stroking his chin. "Very interesting proposal." More huffs and bellows. "Get to it then," Frolick said, waving with his hand toward the soldiers. "But make sure you take off after you do. Not worth sticking around these louts." The muskoxen stomped their feet and stampeded. They were quite the sight to behold. Each of the enormous creatures had to be at least 500 pounds. Running in unison, they cut a path directly through the Flintlock army. From behind. Soldiers gasped in agony as men were crushed underfoot. Amid the confusion, the Flintlock dared not fire directly upon the animals lest they risk hitting other soldiers. It was a bold play. The muskoxen wreaked havoc as they crashed through tents, supplies, weapons and even managed to knock over a cannon or two before taking off into the adjacent evergreen forest, leaving a cacophony of carnage and destruction in their wake. Frolick smiled widely as he surveyed the scene. Better get out of here, he thought to himself. They''ll come looking to investigate how the animals got loose. He crept along the periphery of the disorganized company. With soldiers running left and right, he managed to keep hidden, blending in with a set of bushes abutting the encampment. "And Frost thinks he''s the only one who can fight," Frolick whispered. "Well, frost magic ain''t the only thing that matters in this world." He retreated farther away from the soldiers and into the trees. Chapter 13: Prison Camp As Frolick retreated farther into the woods, he came upon what looked to be a small prison camp set several hundred yards away from the soldiers. There were close to 40 people chained and under guard, surrounded by thick trees. Among them was a woman carrying a crying newborn, an elderly gentleman, half a dozen children, and then mostly young to middle-aged adults. They carried shovels and were working on some sort of excavation. Ten of the prisoners were lined up in a row with blindfolds on, facing in Frolick''s direction. "What in the Five?" Frolick whispered to himself. He hadn''t ever seen a prison camp before. He imagined there had to be far larger ones throughout the Flintlock Empire. What could they be digging up? An array of shots rang out from the camp. The ten prisoners keeled over, falling into the pits. Oh. Behind the prisoners was a group of ten guards, holding smoking muskets. Execution-style. "The monsters," Frolick whispered, shaking his head. They weren''t digging up anything at all. They were digging their own graves. Clenching his teeth, Frolick watched the other prisoners gasp in terror. The woman burst out in a shrill scream, and the child cried at the top of its lungs. The soldiers beckoned them to cover the bodies of the executed with dirt. He couldn''t just stand there and watch this happen. No, Frolick decided that he would need to do something. He might not be able to save Hailstone Keep, but this group of prisoners, perhaps he could do something to help them. But what? If he were Frost, he''d burst in and fight off these guards. Frost would win too. There were only ten Flintlock soldiers, and the prison camp was tucked away behind a thick brush of trees. They might not have enough time to sound the alarm if the attack were executed quickly and stealthily. Stealth. Frolick did have that going from him. With his camo, he could crawl right up to the prisoners and try to unbind them before the guards noticed. Hmmmm. He pondered the idea. It wouldn''t work, he decided. There just wasn''t enough time to free them all. But he had to try. Frolick wormed his way through the surrounding trees, careful not to attract any attention. The forest was sufficiently thick so as to grant additional cover to his mud and twig-covered body.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. He moved to within a few feet of one of the prisoners, the only one not shoveling dirt. A woman. She was young and lean, with a pretty face and brown hair. She caressed a newborn in her arms. "Pssst," Frolick said. Her eyes flitted, and she turned but didn''t see Frolick. "Over here," Frolick whispered, his face covered in dark mud. "Don''t look directly at me. I''ve come to see if I can help." The woman looked away from Frolick''s direction and stared at the guards while rocking her baby. Her hair was braided neatly behind her head, and she wore a bronze bracer with a blue cloth necklace. She whispered under her breath, "Please help us. They came and raided our village. Killed almost everyone. Brought us here for questioning, and now they''re killing us too. We need help." Frolick said, "I''ll see what I can do. When I create a distraction, you run with the child." What in the Five was he doing? Frolick had no idea, but he instinctively felt the need to provide some form of a plan to this woman. Even a bad one. She looked so...well, helpless. He was coming up with this plan on-the-fly. Why? Was it some sort of inner masculine need? "They''re preparing to execute the rest of us," she said in a hushed tear-jerked voice. Her eyes watered. "Killed my brother when he tried to run. If we try, they''ll pick us off and send their cavalry after. How many mages did you bring with you?" Mages? Frolick wondered to himself. "None, it''s just me." Maybe that wasn''t quite the right thing to say. The woman turned, stared him straight in the eye, and gawked in disbelief. "Only you?" Her tone wasn''t disrespectful, so much as incredulous. "Are you not a frost mage?" "Ma''am," Frolick said. "I''ll do my¡ª " Then it hit him. Of course. Frolick caught a closer glimpse of the woman''s bracer. It looked to be made of shining bronze and covered in dazzling, geometric shapes. The shapes. Abstract patterns of dancing stars decorated the piece of jewelry in orderly contours more fantastic than any designed by the hands of men. By the Five Beyond! She was a Frostmarked. That was why the Flintlock were executing these villagers. The Flintlock had situated the prison camp away from the larger company in order to distance it from the stream of water running nearby. Here in this outcropping, there was nary a drop of water to be had¡ªnothing for them to pull on. Sure, there was snow on the ground, but the Frostmarked needed an abundant source of wet, liquid water from which to work. Frolick realized at that moment what he needed to do. If he could manage to transport some water, these prisoners might just have what they would need to fight back. He hoped anyway. The woman was staring at him with a questioning look on her face, ignoring the possibility that the guards might spot her. Frolick was about to utter a reply when he noticed a squad of five armed guards escorting another prisoner into the camp. He instantly recognized the leader¡ªthe man with glowing red eyes. The prisoner was bound in chains and his head covered in a black bag. The guards pushed him to the ground, knocking him onto his hands and knees. The dire soldier removed the man''s head covering. The face was unmistakable. Frostilicus Shatterblade''s bruised and beaten form knelt and bled on the cold, hard ground. "Once again," Frolick said to himself, shaking his head. "I find myself needing to rescue Frostilicus from certain demise." "What?" the woman said. "Do you know this man?" Frolick glanced at her, not having realized that he was talking out loud. "Me? Know him? Well, I suppose you could say that." Then he darted into the trees, disappearing from view. Chapter 14: The Child Frost awoke to the aches and pains of a battered body on the brink of exhaustion. The cool, crisp air of the Northern Reach permeated his lungs like a soothing balm, providing a small bit of relief amid the torment of his captors. He looked around, blinking his puffy red eyes. Frostilicus groaned under the strain of his tormentor. It seemed that these men didn''t just want to kill him but to see that he suffered. What was it that they had against him? Why in the Five were they so sadistic? "Had enough frost mage?" one of the soldiers said, mockingly. He wore a wide grin, displaying gaps between his crooked teeth. "I guess not." The man slammed his boot into Frost''s ribs, knocking him to the ground. Corporal Shamus grunted as he surveyed the scene. The brute of a man held his hands behind his back as he paced. His posture straight, he carried himself like a man in control. "We''ll take him from here, Sir,''" the crooked-teeth soldier said to Shamus in a salute. "Sargent Philip Hargreaves at your service." "General Burns wants him questioned," Shamus. "Then he will deal with him. Personally." Hargreaves'' lips curled upward in an evil grin as he nodded. "That can be taken care of, Sir." Shamus saluted and left. His duty done. It wasn''t as if he cared what happened to Frost. Frost curled on the ground, his body pounding with pain at the hands of the same man. "Stop it," screamed the voice of a woman. Still carrying her child, she raced over to Frostilicus as if to keep him from being kicked ceaselessly beaten by the men. "Oh, lookie here," Hargreaves said. "The little lady wants to protect the newcomer, does she? Well, maybe that can work to our advantage." Frost turned, unsure of what to say. He was grateful, of course. Who was this woman? She stood by him, placing her body like a shield between him and his captors. "You all say you don''t have any information about the frost mages. Not that it really matters at this point. Hailstone Keep will fall at any moment. Hear those canons?"Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. The booms echoed in the background as the artillery continued to pummel Hailstone Keep. The newborn infant wailed, its shrill cry cutting through the cacophony like a knife through butter. "So one of you is going to tells me where we can find more frost mages? Otherwise, I will make your deaths a very trying experience." Hargreaves cracked his knuckles. The woman clenched her jaw and steeled her eyes. She wore the defiant look of a protective mother. Strong. Intransigent. But she was one woman. What could she do? Frost shuddered. If only he had water. Then he''d actually be of some use. The child''s voice turned from crying to cooing. The babe smiled as he caught a glance from Frostilicus, his big blue eyes taking in Frost''s bruised face. There was something different about the child. The baby''s eyes were piercing blue. Were they glowing? "That child of yours ain''t going to be spared," Hargreaves said, narrowing his eyes at the woman. "No one lives. Those are my orders from Burns himself. But if you share some info, I can make its death quick and painless." Frost''s muscles constricted at the thought. Someone had to put a stop to these monsters. These insufferable, evil men who would kill a child. As he breathed in, he caught the scent of blood in his nostrils. Human blood. Not long dead. Peering over, he noticed pits dug into the ground with fresh layers of dirt on top. So that was the truth of it then. This wasn''t a prison camp but an execution field. Clenching his fists, his eyes darted around the makeshift prison camp. There had to be something he could use. Even without his powers, he was still a trained fighter. Growing up as a son of a blacksmith meant he had trained in nearly every type of weapon. Every Capscatian weapon anyway. Rifles were a totally new invention as far as he was concerned. Something these Flintlock brought with them. Suddenly, he noticed something on the ground, and his heart skipped a beat. There was something he could use. Making its way from the bushes nearby like a slithering snake was a thin stream of water. Frost smirked. Frolick was nearby. He sensed it. It was just like his brother to try a trick like this. Subtle yet effective. Still, it wouldn''t be an easy victory. The stream of water was thin and branched out into numerous offshoots like a river delta, forming small splotchy puddles. He could pull on on the water, but he would have to do so at just the right moment, catching the guards by surprise. He also couldn''t wait too long. If the water mixed too much with the dirt on the ground, it would form mud. Water that was commingled with other elements was useless to frost forming. Just like blood. Or even snow, for that matter. Water had to be reasonably pure and liquified to be used most effectively. But there was so little of it. Not enough for a full suit of armor. Maybe for a sword at most. Probably Frolick had smuggled in a bucket of water from the stream and then dumped it on the ground. Frostilicus had to act now, or he''d miss his window of opportunity, so he focused his mind and pulled. But as he did, something completely unexpected happened. The water caught on fire. Chapter 15: Flame What in the Five? Frost''s eyes widened, and his mouth gaped. While pulling on the water, snaking it toward him through the air, the water transformed, gaining a thickness to it as if something or someone else was using frost magic. The floating liquid emulsified in mid-air and then caught fire. It coruscated in a bright flash, splashing in all directions with liquid drops of flame, bursting out in a camp-wide conflagration. Three of the soldiers caught on fire, flammable globules latching onto their cotton uniforms and igniting them like human torches. They screamed in a panic, running for piles of snow to roll around in. But the fire took hold too quickly, leaving their bodies badly scorched and burned. They would need serious medical treatment if they were to live. Frost didn''t have time to figure out what exactly was going on, so he took advantage of the confusion and ran at the nearest soldier, tackling him to the ground. The man was in a state of shock and stupor, also never having seen liquid fire. Before he could pull himself back to reality, Frost knocked him out cold. Pulling out the man''s pistol, Frost aimed it at a second soldier. The soldier had already drawn his own sidearm, Click, click. Two shots ran out. Frost''s aim was true, dropping the man in his tracks. Fortunately for Frost, his opponent''s shot was wide. Well, that was a bit of beginner''s luck, Frost thought to himself. He''d never fired a gun before, but he could get used to it. It was a bit like a crossbow but better somehow. He did have a knack for weapons. A thin puff of smoke rose from the tip of the piece. It had a nice feel to it. Compact. Efficient. Not like swords or spears. He made a mental note to study these newfangled contraptions, but for now, he needed to fight. A third soldier drew his rifle on Frost only to find himself beaten over the head with a club by the woman holding her child. She''d also taken advantage of the confusion to fight back. No one had suspected that a woman holding a baby would be so effective. Unfortunately, by the time the rest of the camp joined in the fray, the eight remaining guards were fully organized. They operated like a well-trained unit, snapping into formation and loading their rifles. Even in the middle of a fire and an armed revolt, they became highly alert. The guards turned their guns on the prisoners and began dropping them on the spot. Clack, clack, clack.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. Three prisoners dropped dead as bullets burrowed into their heads and chests. The others gasped as they witnessed the carnage. Several let out screams of terror and horror. Smoke rose in the backdrop, ominously portending further deaths and executions. The burning continued, lighting up deadwood trees surrounding the camp and the makeshift tents the guards slept in. Smoke was filling the ground, and it would soon force the group out of the small camp in the woods. Maybe that was the plan, Frost thought to himself. Smoke everyone out, and in the confusion, escape. Not a bad idea. But the guards didn''t seem to care about a little smoke, even if it was enough to kill. They had madness in their eyes, a look of ... was that fear? It was as if they knew dire fate awaited those who fled, leaving escaped prisoners behind. Especially frost mages. Click, click, click. Five more prisoners dropped dead. The elderly gentleman with the wizened white beard fell to the ground clutching his side as an iron ball impaled itself into his leg. The leader of the guard, Philip Hargreaves, turned his sights on the woman holding her child, his lips curling to one side as he cocked his gun. Frost would have none of it. He ran at a full-sprint, and rage-tackled Hargreaves, an instant before the man''s gun went off. It fired deafeningly into the sky as the man hit the ground, his back smacking against the dirt below. Frost proceeded to punch the man in the face. The crunch of a broken and bloodied nose left Frost with a certain sense of satisfaction, giving the violent guard his just deserts. Still, Hargreaves was a big man. Much bigger and much heavier than Frost. As Frost landed a second blow, he felt the smoke permeate his lungs, slowing his oxygen intake and dampening the quickness of his jabs. As he snapped his fist back for a third blow, Hargreaves headbutted him. The blow whipsawed Frost backward like being hit by a moving caravan. Hargreave''s mangled figure rose up like a looming shadow. His broken face rested atop an enormous giant of a body. Hargreaves cracked his knuckles, then pulled out his pistol. The strange device was death itself. It looked like a small pipe with a wooden handle attached. Hargreaves cocked the gun and smirked, eyes forming slits. Frost was helpless. No water. No armor. No weapons. Not even the double-strength and agility of his frost magic. Bam, bam, bam. The soldiers fired again, felling seven more prisoners. Over half their number had been killed in the last few moments. And Frost was next. In an instant, his eyes flitted to one side as he heard a rustle in the bushes. Please be Frolick and Molly, he urgently prayed to the Almighty. Maybe they could pull off a trick like last time and save them all. Please. Hargreaves'' eyes shifted too, searching out the source of the noise. Whatever it was, it caught the attention of several soldiers. This might be his one chance. Frost focused himself, preparing for Molly''s entrance. If she ran out fast enough, spraying water from her trunk, he might be able to form armor quickly and put up a fight. With this many guards, he would have a decent chance of fending them off if Hargreaves didn''t kill him first. Bursting out of the smoky woods was the hulking form of an arctic creature with thick brown fur and menacing white horns. It was shaggy and running directly at the soldiers. The beast looked like an enormous hairball? What the¡ªthis wasn''t Molly at all, but something smaller and woolier, if that were possible. It also brought friends. More of the strange beasts'' heads popped out of the woods, charging full speed at the guards. And they smelled terrible. Chapter 16: Escape Thirteen muskoxen stampeded out from the trees toward the bewildered guardsmen, whose eyes widened in terror. The lead bull rammed into Hargreaves with a lowered head, slamming into the man''s rear. His body snapped back in pain, and he was sent hurtling up in an arc before landing with a loud crunch of broken bones. Frost breathed with relief at the sight. Finally, his brother had come. As always. The oxen charged out like an angry mob, hungry for blood. They were smart enough to only target the soldiers, avoiding the prisoners altogether. Their hoofs beat down on the dirt like a hundred boulders tumbling down a mountainside. The guards who managed to pick themselves up ran away like sheep fleeing a hungry wolf. The rest lay sprawled on the ground, their bodies limp and bruised. As quickly as the muskoxen entered the camp, they were gone, disappearing into the woods on the other side, the imprints of their hoof marks pressed upon the dirt and snow. Suddenly, a bush rustled from the trees nearby as if some other far larger creature were passing through. Whatever it was shook the entire plant. Then the bush itself stood up. "Well, don''t just stand there," Frolick said, his muddied body coated in twigs, pine needles, and branches. "Let''s get outta here." The roughly fifteen remaining prisoners stared at the talking man-bush, dumbstruck by everything that had just happened. "Tell ''em, Frost," Frolick said, his voice urgent. Placing two of his fingers in his mouth, he let out a loud whistle that rang through the camp. In an instant, the muskoxen reemerged, their heads peeking out from the brush in immediate response to Frolick''s call. Their stench reentered with them, covering the camp in a pungent aroma. "Let''s go," Frost said, gagging as he spoke. He reached up and pinched his nose with his right thumb and index fingers. "We need to leave now," he said in a nasal voice. Frolick hopped onto the lead beast and signaled for the others to do likewise by waving his hand. He looked like a hermitic druid climbing onto a creature from another world. Frost nodded, acknowledging his brother, grateful for once again having been saved from the point of death. He climbed onto one of the oxen. The prisoners followed, a few of them doubling up per animal. The muskoxen were obedient, friendly even. Frolick really did have a way with animals to tame them so quickly, Frost thought to himself. "Thank you," the young woman said to Frolick. She had light blue eyes and straight brown hair running down her back. She was youthful and prim, her face smooth and light. With one hand, she clutched the now-sleeping child, and with the other she held tightly to the muskox. "Who do I have to thank?"If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. "The name''s Frolick," Frolick said, nodding in her direction and then pointing toward Frost. "And this here is my brother Frost." She smiled warmly and brushed her hair. Her back straightened, and her blue eyes pierced him with her gaze. "I am Alta. I''m very grateful, but I cannot join you. There is something I must do." "That ain''t happening," Frolick said. "You can''t go back there. Especially not with that ba¡ª" She shoved the sleeping child into his arms. "Now, wait one sec¡ª" Before Frolick could finish the sentence, she was off. She leaped off her muskox and darted into the woods toward the company of soldiers who continued to launch iron balls at the nearly collapsed walls of Hailstone Keep. Frost and Frolick looked at each other in confusion, not sure what exactly had just transpired. It had happened so fast. "Did she just give you her baby?" Frost said, his eyebrows furrowed. "You really do have a way with women." "Now that''s not fair," Frolick said. "She''s pretty and all but, well, I''m not quite sure what to make of that." The baby awoke for a moment and looked Frolick in the eyes. The baby cooed softly and then curled up against Frolick''s shoulder, drool running down his flabby chin. "Think he''s taking to you quite nicely," Frost said. This was getting better and better. Frolick ''s mouth gaped as he looked at the child. "Barely know how to fold me own clothes, I do. I can''t take care of a baby." "You''ll figure it out," Frost said. "I wonder if one of these folks know anything about this child," Frolick said. "Alta was not the child''s mother," the older man said in a gruff voice, riding up close to Frost and Frolick. He wore torn, ragged clothing and had white hair. His build was tall and lean, and his leg was bleeding from a bullet to the thigh. "She was passing through and saved him." "Interesting," Frolick said, looking at the sleeping child. The newborn was awfully cute. "Looks like you''re now a dad," Frost said, throwing up his arms. "You always did have a way with the more, um, aromatic creatures. Wonder if that''ll translate in this case." His voice pitched upward as he spoke. "Now, wait a minute¡ª" Frolick said. "No time," Frost said, smiling. "Have to leave. The Flintlock are coming remember?" "If we can bring the child to Hailstone Keep," the elderly man said, interjecting. "We can reunite him with his relatives. His parents were villagers we came to help evacuate but unfortunately, not fast enough. They were two of the first to die by the hands of the Flintlock." "What?" Frolick said. "How terrible. Who are you?" "I am Quartus," the man said. "I came down here with Alta and a dozen others. She pretended to be the child''s mother to save him from execution." Frost and Frolick took on a more somber look. The terrible things these Flintlock did. "But Hailstone Keep," Frost said. "Isn''t it about to get destroyed?" The bombardment continued in the backdrop, cannons firing shot after shot at a relentless pace. Quartus smiled knowingly. "That? Oh, that''s not Hailstone Keep." "What," Frost said. "Do you mean by that exactly?" They had traveled all this way to get to Hailstone Keep. Then he''d fought and nearly died trying to save it. Now he was being told that this wasn''t Hailstone Keep at all. It wasn''t making any sense. "I can tell you are not from around here," Quartus said. "I promise once we are a safe distance away, you can ask any question you like. That is the least I can do to thank you for saving our lives." "I don''t know about you," Frost said, looking his brother square in the eyes. "But I am very, very confused." Chapter 17: Sundered The muskoxen cut through the thick evergreen forest as easily as a school of fish through water. For their riders, the prickly pine needles and branches were as uncomfortable as they were excruciating. The occasional branch knocked off the occasional rider, so Frost took up the rear, looking out for strays. The trek was long and arduous, but everyone was happy to be free. Free from death, free from losing more loved ones, and free from the Flintlock. For now, anyway. The enemy troops seemed to be so busy throwing everything they had at the building Frost formerly thought to be Hailstone Keep. They were so busy, in fact, that they didn''t even bother coming after Frost and the escaped prisoners. Not right away, at least. Frolick didn''t join the group on the escape route up the ridge of the valley. Instead, he insisted on double-backing to find Molly after entrusting the child to one of the travelers. Molly was waiting further south, away from battle. Frolick agreed with Quartus to rendezvous at a set point on the other side of the hills. Frolick would meet them there, circling around the valley through a pass Quartus pointed out to him on the map. In the meantime, Frost shepherded the group in an upward inclined hike up the side of the hill. Thankfully, the hill was coated in trees, which provide some semblance of cover. "We call this the Valley of Sundered Rock," Quartus said, walking his muskox near Frost''s. He mumbled as he spoke, holding tightly onto the animals. He gripped its fur like the reins of a horse. "The River Tempus cuts right through the valley, carving out two separate sets of hills, one from the other. "That''s an odd name," Frost said, his lips forming a line. "Really?" Quartus said, tilting his head. "I always thought it was quite profound." "How do you figure?" Frost said. "Tempus means time in the old language," Quartus said. "Life flows through time, carving a path between twin eternities¡ªheaven and hell¡ªlike the two sides of this mountain pass." Frost grimaced. He wasn''t expecting that. That was deeper than he cared to ponder the moment. All he wanted now was to get to safety. Not to philosophize. "The look on your face says you don''t agree? Do you not believe in the afterlife?" Quartus said. "It''s not that," Frost said. Five, Quartus would think him shallow. "I meant that it was strange to call it a river," Frost said, pointing in the direction of the small muddy stream. "It''s more of a stream if that."If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Quartus chuckled aloud, his belly rumbling under his shirt. His lips curled upward, and his neck muscles loosened. "It''s about time you had your answers, Frost. I owe you that much for saving our skins. And the show is about to start now, anyway." He peered up at the sun as if discerning something. Frost furrowed his brows. This was making no sense whatsoever. Time for what? Quartus ground his muskox to a halt. The group was close to the top of the hill. From their vantage, they had a clear view of the massive company of Flintlock and the dilapidated fort that continued to take a beating. The infantry looked restless. Several squads were beginning to advance toward the structure. "You are a Frostmarked, are you not?" Quartus asked. Frost nodded. "But not a trained one by the look of it," Quartus said. "You have raw power but little restraint." Frost grimace. Five, what was he getting at? "A frost mage," Quartus said, continuing. "Doesn''t fight to kill. A mage''s power is hidden. Subtle. Blending in with the world around it. As if it were never there." "Surely, self-defense is needed?" Frost said. "You''d be dead now if we hadn''t acted." "Indeed," Quartus said, nodding. "I am grateful that you saved our lives. I am not saying you were wrong to intervene. I would have done so had I the opportunity and strength in this circumstance. All I am saying is that it is not the best option if it can be avoided. The hidden way is preferred." Frost jerked his head. Something dawned on him. His quest to find the frost mages. Perhaps he''d found what he was looking for. "Are you a frost mage?" "Me?" Quartus said. "Yes, yes, I suppose you could say that." Frost''s eyes widened. "You set the water on fire then?" "No," Quartus said. "That was Alta. She''s trained in enflueragy. Turns out to be very useful in this sort of thing. I''m more of a big picture person myself." Alta created fire? That was interesting. "How in the Five did she do it?" "Oh, her family runs a distillery," Quartus said. "They produce oils for lamps. You can ask her about it when you see her next. She is very skilled." Frost stroked his chin. It made sense. He''d only ever seen frost magic used to solidify water into a hard substance. But the idea of transforming it into another liquid was a clever take on the magic. So long as the frost mage was intimately familiar with the object being formed, it could be pulled into being. It apparently didn''t have to be solid mass like he''d always assumed. Five, why hadn''t he thought to test that before? If Alta could produce oils, then she could pull them into form and then burn them. Five, what an amazing ability. "Speaking of Alta," Quartus said. "Take a look." He pointed out to the company of Flintlock. Frost squinted his eyes to get a better look. There was smoke rising from their camp. Something had broken out, leaving a small plume of smoke like a rising gray mushroom. "Is that Alta''s doing?" Frost asked. "It is indeed," Quartus said. "As I said, we typically try to be subtle, but every once in a while we need to take more direct action." "What is going on then?" Frost said. "Why we''re burning their supplies, of course," Quartus said, smiling. Suddenly, there was an explosive eruption that sounded like a bursting volcano. Fire burst out in a shower of flames that lit up the sky and the surrounding camp. Soldiers screamed in fear as the fire tore through the camp, dispersing them in panic. The earth itself was scorched black and red from the deaths caused by the conflagration. "There supplies," Frost said, raising an eyebrow. "Is that all you''re burning?" Chapter 18: Flood "Oh dear," Quartus said. "That isn''t good." "What do you mean?" Frost said, excitedly. His heart beat rapidly as he witnessed the death of half the Flintlock army. "Isn''t that what you wanted to do?" "It must have been an accident," Quartus said. "We miscalibrated. This is all wrong. Their powder supplies must have been a more powerful mix." "How can it be wrong?" Frost said. "The Flintlock are defeated. Hailstone, er, whatever that place is, is saved." Quartus shook his head. Several of the travelers had equal looks of dismay. Frost seemed to be the only one who was happy that their enemies were losing. Quartus clenched his jaw and tightened his fist. "Stupid boy, don''t you see? Alta was sent to sabotage their supplies, forcing their army to retreat and showing them the shallowness of their ways. This will only anger them and start a war." "You''re already in a war," Frost said. "They want to kill all frost mages. I say bring it on." The elderly man shook his head. His eyes conveyed wisdom despite the fact that Frost failed to see his reasoning. "That is not the way of the frost mage. Only the path to hell." Frost pondered the point. He glanced at the two sets of ridges lining abutting the River Tempus, recalling Quartus'' analogy. The fire raged on, engulfing more soldiers and horses. It wouldn''t be long before the company faced complete annihilation. "I cannot allow the destruction to continue," Quartus said. "What can you do?" Frost said. "The fire cannot be stopped. It''s out-of-control." Quartus held up his hand with his palm out in a rapid silencing motion. Then he closed his eyes, breathing in. Frost wasn''t quite sure what it was the man was getting at. Did he even have frost powers, or was he more of a "big picture" strategist, as he said. In an instant, Quartus'' eyes opened wide. They glowed bright blue with an intensity Frost had never seen before. They looked like spherical balls filled with pure luminescent energy. The palm of Quartus'' extended hand glowed softly as if it were performing a higher form of frost magic. But what? Frost surveyed the panorama in front of him. In the center of the valley the Flintlock Army was being decimated. Nothing changed.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. In the valley below, the Flintlock continued to scream for their lives, burning to a crisp. Cannons exploded as they caught fire. Depots of stored powder burst into flames, exacerbating the cacophony of destruction. Beyond the camp, the dilapidated castle looked on silently at the chaos of its attackers. The lone structure he once thought to be Hailstone Keep stood alone. Silent. Motionless. The massive structure stood as big as a city with ancient stone walls and crenellated towers. Before the bombardment, it must have looked so picturesque. Exactly the way one would imagine an ancient keep to look like. Like something out of a storybook. Suddenly, it collapsed. The walls melted, liquifying instantaneously. The stones first turned into slush before converting into cool, transparent water. The entire city, every last brick, melded together in a single pool of water. Oh, Frost thought to himself. That kind of big picture. He''d always wondered if there were limits to the size a frost form could take such as that of a trained carpenter, but this far exceeded even his wildest imagination. What was Quartus'' profession? he wondered. Maybe a city planner? Or a builder? Who was this man? The water that went into creating something this large must have been enough to fill a lake. Or a ¡ª Frost''s mouth gaped. He nearly fell off his muskox. His hands trembled as realization dawned upon him. He understood why the River Tempus was a shallow stream. Why it had outsized muddy banks. Why it had very little actual water. He further understood why this place, as massive and ancient as it appeared, was not marked on their map. Quartus had used the entire water supply to create the fake Hailstone Keep, effectively drying up the entire river for miles. Somehow, his magic had withered the actual river down to a stream, affecting it as a unified whole. He had pulled the entire river into one massive form. A form that mimicked Hailstone Keep. And now Quartus was turning it back. The rushing water burst out like a waterfall splashing down in a torrential downpour. The released liquid radiated in all directions, flooding the valley in a forceful dousing, drenching it in pooling water. The flood immediately created a cold marshland, engulfing the soldiers, their supplies, and the surrounding forest in a shallow, knee-high, slush-filled swamp. The water slowly subsided as it spread out, coating the Valley of the Sundered Rock like a gentle blanket. As Frost watch the scene unfold, he understood Quartus'' logic. The water put out the fire, saving the remaining third of Flintlock soldiers. Frost didn''t profess to understand why Quartus would try to save his enemies, but the man had accomplished his goal. Quartus'' eyes returned to their normal brown coloration as their glowing ceased. The old man took one last look at the drenched valley and then turned to look at other side of the hill. "What was done here today," Quartus said somberly. "Was a grave mistake." "I can''t believe what I just saw," Frost said, still gawking at the scene. "It is not the way of the frost mage," Quartus said, a hint of anger in his voice. "This will bring repercussions for generations to come." Frost was silent. He merely listened with a renewed sense of respect and awe. The once jovial man was now serious, his lips curled downward at the sides. Quartus'' hands were firm upon his muskox, which he directed upward toward the top of the hill and down the other side. As the group of travelers crested the ridgeline, they made their way out of the Valley of Sundered Rock toward their rendezvous point with Frolick. As their muskoxen hiked down the outward-facing side of the ridge, Frost wondered to himself which side of eternity they would find themselves on. Chapter 19: One With Nature Frolick had returned and was briefed on the events in the Flintlock camp. He''d come with Molly, pulling a sled full of bear meat. The travelers happily feasted on the food, though a few complained there was something unusual about it. That didn''t stop them from eating it, given how hungry everyone was. And there was plenty of food to go around. According to Quartus, they were less than a day''s hike from the real Hailstone Keep, but the group preferred not to travel at night. Instead, they created a makeshift camp and took the downtime to eat. For many of the group, it had been over a week since their last proper meal. As they cooked, the campfire flickered, lights dancing along the silhouette of pine trees set against the backdrop of a starry night sky. The sound of the crying child pierced through the silence of the night. The travelers took turns trying to soothe the newborn, but the baby was inconsolable. "Do you miss being a dad?" Frost asked playfully. The child''s cries rang through his ears. Frolick crossed his arms. "Now that ain''t funny, Frost. That child just lost both his parents." "I know, I know," Frost said, palms outward. "Besides, I''d be a great father," Frolick said. "Being one with nature is a big help in raising children." "You?" Frost said skeptically. "I certainly would," Frolick said. "Just not yet. First, I need to meet me a lovely lady." "Speaking of which," Frost said. "I''m surprised we haven''t yet heard back from Alta." Frolick''s lips formed a line. "I still am flabbergasted by what you described. I cannot believe she took out the entire Flintlock army by herself. I do admire that kind of strength in a woman." "She certainly left her mark," Frost said. "I wouldn''t have believed you for one second," Frolick said. "Except I could hear the blasts from miles away. Shook the tree branches it did. Whatever it is they had in those powder kegs is strong stuff." "Was strong stuff," Frost corrected. "Right you are," Frolick said. "And I say good riddance. Happy to have the Flintlock off our backs. They got what was coming to them they did." "That''s what I said," Frost said, snapping back his head. "They''ve killed enough good people that I don''t feel bad about their army being wiped out." "Well," Frolick said, lowering his voice to a whisper. They were out of earshot from the other travelers. "I''ll give you that. Strange what Quartus told you, though. Do you reckon the frost mages are pacifists? I''ve heard of these newfangled philosophies. Maybe they''re into one of them?" Frost stroked his chin. "I don''t know. It''s bizarre. But I highly doubt an ancient order of frost mages would be into anything that''s newfangled." Frolick nodded. "Now, I''m not opposed to decreasing bloodshed and all, but the Flintlock are pretty much the definition of pure evil."A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. "Hey," Frost said, throwing up his hands. "I agree with you. They got what''s coming to them. What I don''t understand is why the frost mages didn''t act sooner. If Quartus really did form an entire city out of river water, think of what they could have done earlier on?" "Well," Frolick said, pausing to ponder the point. He looked up at the sky and then at Molly. She was fast asleep but was still covered in twigs and branches. "Perhaps it was set up as camo." "What?" Frost said, furrowing his brows. "You know, to trick them into thinking they had won," Frolick said. "Hmmm," Frost said. "That''s not exactly how camo works. Camouflage makes others think you''re not there." "Same general idea," Frolick said. "Point is it''s a ruse." Frost rolled his eyes. He understood what Frolick was getting at. Even if it didn''t make sense. "Why don''t we just ask Quartus?" Frolick said. "I don''t think that''s a good idea right now," Frost said, shrugging. "He seems to be really upset by the whole thing." "You just Fivin'' saved his life," Frolick said. "The least he could do is tell you why he didn''t act sooner to save people''s lives. Hey, Quartus." His voice rose to a shout as he called for the wizened old man. Frost only shook his head. It was just like Frolick to go meddling in other people''s business. Why couldn''t he just keep his trap shut? Quartus jerked his head. He had been taking his turn trying to soothe the child, who was now partially asleep in the old man''s arms. He had been rocking his body back and forth, but as he turned to look in response to Frolick''s obnoxiously loud shout, the child snapped awake and burst out in a piercing cry. "Oops," Frolick said squeamishly. "Sorry." "Well," Quartus said, shaking his head. "You went and woke him, so now it''s your turn to try." "But¡ª" Frolick said in protest. Quartus handed him the now bawling babe. "Back to square one?" Frost said, smiling. "Dad." "What is it you wanted anyway?" Quartus asked. Frolick''s mouth scrunched, and his eyes widened. "Oh, that?" he said. "Never mind." The question was no longer important. Not in comparison to the immediate need of trying to soothe the screaming newborn. That pretty much became his top priority as soon as he held the child. The little baby boy was so small. So helpless. And yet Frolick felt an inexorable urge to do everything to help the little one. To calm him down. To make him feel comfortable and loved. He tried rocking his body in the same manner Quartus had used, shifting his weight from his back to his front foot. No use. He tried shushing the child to sleep. Also no use. He even tried singing a lullaby, one his own mother had used for so many years. But nothing worked. The child''s mouth erupted in a cacophony of screams and wails, the likes of which Frost and Frolick had never heard in their lives. Frolick''s heart beat rapidly as he searched for a way to calm down the crying baby. He immediately had a new appreciation for the sleepless nights his parents must have gone through raising three children. Maybe Frost was right to be skeptical. Being a highly skilled Animal Speaker was completely useless when it came to child-rearing. He pondered that thought for a moment. But then again. Maybe it wasn''t? Suddenly, an idea shot through his mind. Of course. Frolick glanced at Molly. She slumbered peacefully, snores working their way through her outstretched trunk, her body lying limp on her side, udders exposed. Milk. That was it. The child was screaming for milk. Frolick quickly raced over to Molly''s side, picking up a bucket in one arm while holding the child in the other. Dropping the bucket, he drew milk from Molly''s udders, squeezing a pint of the nutritious liquid into the cold metal container. The milk was warm to the touch. Good. As the child screamed and thrashed in his arms, Frolick slowly and gently poured the warm liquid into the babe''s mouth. The newborn lapped it down quickly, gulping loudly as he drank. The crying immediately stopped and was replaced by the hungry gulps of a child who probably hadn''t eaten in days. As far as Frolick was concerned, the sound was music to his ears. The group of travelers gathered around, eyes wide in admiration as they watched Frolick quietly and gently give the hungry baby exactly what he needed. Frost watched from the side, lips curling upward. Perhaps he had been wrong to doubt Frolick? His little brother would be an excellent father. Apparently, closeness to the natural world was very helpful when it came to parenting. And so was having a woolly mammoth with a gargantuan supply of warm milk. Gulp, gulp, gulp. Chapter 20: Holes in the Ice "I will say that I''m very grateful for everything you''ve done for us," Quartus said. "This expedition did not go as planned, and without the help of the two of you, we would all be dead." Quartus rode on the back of a muskox, leading the troop toward their destination. The morning air was crisp, and the sunlight bright. The full moon shone despite it being morning, reflecting the sun in a vibrant white sphere. "We''re happy to help," Frost said, nodding. "You guys say something down there?" Frolick said. He rode atop Molly and was a good ten feet higher than everyone else, baby tied comfortably to his chest. "He said he''s grateful for our help," Frost said. "What?" Frolick said. "He''s hateful of our help? That''s not very nice." "No," Frost said, yelling back. "Oh, never mind." "Your brother is a colorful fellow," Quartus said, peering up at Frolick. "That''s putting it lightly," Frost said. "But he''s very caring," Quartus said. "I also should apologize to you for leaving you in the dark yesterday. I was...very anxious about what happened." "Again, putting it lightly," Frost said. Quartus nodded, his body bobbing with each step of the muskox. "Alta, myself, and several others were meant to keep the Flintlock at bay. Plant a fake castle. Destroy their supplies. Turn them back. We...sent a message of sorts." "Well, the message has been received," Frost said, nodding. "But I fear we may have sent the wrong message." Frost shook his head. "That''s what I can''t understand." Quartus stroked his white beard. "Why is it that you and your brother traveled here? All the way up to the Northern Reach." "I came to join the frost mages," Frost said, gritting his teeth. "To fight the Flintlock. They''re destroying my home, killing innocents. My friends." "If that''s the only reason you''ve come," Quartus said. "Then you might as well turn around." Frost''s eyes widened, and he shook his head. "No, it can''t be. We came all this way. Besides, if I go back, they''ll kill me. They nearly did already. Just like you." "I see," Quartus said. "Then proceed if you wish. Hailstone is a haven for all travelers but know that frost mages believe in building, not tearing down." "Even in the face of death, you would stand there and be killed?" "With matter and form, a frost mage is born," Quartus said. "But from a sundering heart, the soul falls apart. "What?" Frost said, confused. Quartus was speaking in riddles. "The point is," Quartus said. "The way of the frost mage is to form, to shape, to create. Not to break or shatter." "You''re still not making any sense," Frost said. "Frost magic isn''t just a power," Quartus said. "It''s a way of life. To wield it properly, you have to understand it. It has to be part of you." "But there''s also self-preservation," Frost said. "You''re telling me you''d just stand there and die?"Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Quartus shook his head. "Did we allow Hailstone to be destroyed by the Flintlock?" Quartus asked. "No, we find ways to build the future by being creative. When exposed to enough heat, ice melts. But solid ice is far stronger than other elements. Able to move mountains." "But you''d all be dead if my brother and I hadn''t been there," Frost said. "True," Quartus said. "That was a mistake. We aren''t perfect. We weren''t meant to be captured. There weren''t supposed to be any remaining villagers in the valley who needed to be evacuated. But plans never go perfectly in real life." "So you were there to plant the decoy and then got caught up rescuing innocents?" Quartus nodded. "Yes." "But I''ve seen your power," Frost said. "Why didn''t you fight back when you were captured? Even for the sake of the mission." Quartus said, "Without water were are helpless. Besides, there were others who would have carried on the sabotage of Flintlock supplies. In hindsight, that may not have been a bad thing, given what happened. I''d gladly sacrifice myself to avoid this terrible fate." "That is the most confusing thing of all," Frost said. "Why in the Five is that a terrible fate? The Flintlock aren''t innocent. And don''t give me that excuse of starting a war. Don''t you see that the Flintlock are bent on wiping out anyone who''s a Frostmarked in the whole world?" Quartus shut his eyes and shook his head. "They''re killing everyone who''s a Frostmarked," Frost said. He felt his neck muscles strain as he elevated his voice. His temperature rose, and his face turned slightly red. "They find us using Testing Glass to identify us before execution. They''re pure evil and need to be stopped." "No," Quartus said, his eyes. "It is not the way. Frost mages no longer interfere with worldly matters. We have long since found peace in isolation." "Don''t you see," Frost said passionately. "You may be the only ones who can do anything. We''re dying out there. The Flintlock are destroying the world and remaking it in their image, killing people like us." Quartus was silent for a moment, pondering the point. "I shall think on this point more when we return to Hailstone. It is a complex matter." "What in the Five is so complex about it? Let me guess, you believe in a balance of good and evil." "Frost," Quartus said, looking him in the eye. "Strange name for a foreigner. I am grateful for your help, but you are beginning to try my patience." Frost only shook his head, huffing as he did. He wondered whether this entire journey had been a complete waste of time. "Very well," Quartus said, breathing deep. "I will attempt to explain it. I owe you that much." Frost looked up, furrowing his brows. "There is no balance of good and evil," Quartus said, amused. "There is only the good. Evil is the absence of good. Like holes in the ice on a frozen lake, evil can draw you in and drown you in a cold underwater grave. But if the ice is solid, one stands on a firm foundation." "Ok," Frost said, thoughtfully, though he wasn''t completely sure what the parable meant. "A thousand years ago," Quartus said. "The Frostmarked laid the foundations of the world spreading knowledge, learning, culture, philosophy, and even religion. Many stayed behind, including your own ancestors. But then we had to leave." "Why is that?" Frost asked. "To preserve ourselves," Quartus said. "In the frozen North. There is more of course, but that is for another day." "But now the Flintlock are trying to root you out." Quartus nodded. "We do not fear the Flintlock. However, their targeted actions would indicate that something else is at work. Something more powerful may be trying to crack open the ice. Mark my words, a dark force is at the heart of the Flintlock Empire. Something far more powerful than metal guns." "So you agree then? Something needs to be done." "I don''t know," Quartus said. "If the diaspora is under attack, then I imagine something else is coming for the heart of Frosthaven to strike us at our center." "So we fight back now. Before the Flintlock have a chance." "You still don''t get it," Quartus said. "Cracks in the ice have a way of growing, leading to bigger and bigger problems. When they get to the center of the lake, the whole thing gives way." Frost stroked his chin. He was beginning to understand the analogy. Ice would shatter under enough force. "There is no balance between forces," Quartus said. "Only form. Under enough strain, or if a form is struck at just the right angle, it shatters, breaking into a thousand shards." Frost thought deeply on the parable. So it wasn''t the Flintlock that Frosthaven feared. It was disorder. Chaos. Shattering. If that was the case then what was it that he had just witnessed? He suddenly understood why it was that Quartus and the others were so profoundly disturbed by the accidental killing of thousands of enemy soldiers. As Frost rode along in silence, he wondered what it would mean as news of the one-sided battle made its way into the center of the Frosthaven Empire. Would it mean the end? Or the start of something new? As Frost pondered the thought, he caught sight of a magnificent city set on a hill. It was far bigger and far more splendid than the fake Hailstone Keep he''d seen melt before his eyes. Here, finally, Frostilicus had arrived at the heart of the Frosthaven Empire¡ªHailstone Keep. Chapter 21: Dark Tidings Shamus Sharpshot arose from the ashes, his royal infantry uniform torn and tattered, with pieces burning orange-red. His blood boiled. His emotions raged. How could this have happened? They had been so close. Close to destroying the famed Hailstone Keep of ancient lore after traveling across oceans and continents, only to see their fate turned on a ploy? The entire target of their attack had been a fake. Frost magic of epic proportions. Shamus wandered through the wreckage of the once 10,000-man strong Snowjack Infantry company. Bodies were burnt to a crisp and then soaked with water. Men were flayed alive by metal shrapnel from the explosion. Others were simply blown to bits. In the end, water was the only thing that saved them from complete annihilation. Why were the Frostmarked so careless? They could have had complete victory. Instead, they abandoned their ruse as soon as the explosion hit, leaving three thousand Flintlock to be saved by the very water that created the illusory Hailstone Keep. This wasn''t war. The Flintlock waged war. War had rules. War had tactics. War even had order. This was a brutal mockery of war. Shamus would have preferred a valiant death to this. The water level had fallen to Shamus'' boots. Steam rose from the swampy muck after dousing out the flames, filling the air with an admixture of mist and ash. Through the fog, Shamus could see a lone figure walking calmly. The shadowy silhouette revealed a tall man, his neatly pressed uniform intact, silver buttons lining its center¡ªa tricorn hat on his head. The man''s back was erect and his body large and well-muscled. It could only be one person. Horace. General Burns emerged from the cloud of soot, his still neatly pressed uniform lined with black ash. His face wore a scowl, lines forming near his nose and eyes, his anger palpable. Shamus saluted the dire general, his hand forming a flat line near his head. "Sir," Shamus said. Horace grunted and then spoke in a low voice. "Dark tidings, Corporal. Dark tidings." His eyes glowed red. "Should I gather the men for retreat?" Shamus said. "The day is lost." Horace''s eyes pulsed brighter, and his fists clenched into balls. Speaking through clenched teeth, he said, "This is only the beginning, Corporal. I do not lose wars." "Sir?" Shamus said. "Only one-third of us remain. The survivors are gathering farther south. There''s nothing further we can do." "The war is far from over, Shamus," Horace said. He reached down into the soggy swamp. With one hand, he grasped the collar of a dying soldier. Then he lifted the man up into the air with supernatural strength. The unconscious man''s body was limp, broken bones bending unnaturally at several joints. But there was breath. Just barely. After letting the man down, Horace rolled up the sleeve of his jacket, the bunched-up cloth forming the only visible wrinkles on his uniform.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. "Sir?" Shamus said questioningly. Horace removed a silver dagger from his belt. The hilt of the ornate weapon was embroidered in flowery golden ornamentation. Fit for a king. Then the general used it to and slit his own wrist. Crimson blood poured out as if from a faucet. It streamed down his arm, staining his jacket. Shamus gaped. Burns knelt down beside the barely living soldier and let out a few drops of his blood onto the man''s wounds. "You''re making him like you," Shamus said, understanding. "Like us." "This is why I don''t lose battles," Burns said. "This is why they sent me." Shamus understood. Burns would remake the army, at least those injured, into dire soldiers. But would it be enough? If Frosthaven had defeated their entire company with a single trick, then what good was it to try and fight them. "Help me save the wounded," Burns said. "Prepare them for me." "Sir," Shamus said. "You expect me to do that?" "It''s the only way," Burns said. Shamus Sharpshot wanted to belch. Burns glared at Shamus as if ready to bark an angry order, but then his face relaxed. "They expect us to retreat like a dog with its tail in between its legs. That means we have an advantage. We need to press that advantage." Shamus nodded, pulling out his own dagger. "Very well. Do you have your syringe?" "No," Burns said, shaking his head. "Lost it in the blast. But that doesn''t matter. It only takes a few drops to minimally endire a soldier. Your transformation was stronger because you had more transfused. The rest will take longer. Not all of them will make it, but those that do will recover from their wounds. Eventually." The general moved on to another wounded soldier, releasing his blood into the man''s open wounds. Shamus rolled up his sleeve and slit his wrist. "Did you know I would survive?" Burns looked him in the eye. "Some men can''t handle the transformation," he said. "But I sensed you had enough grit. Still others reject it entirely intentionally. They die, refusing the gift." Excellent. Burns gambled with Shamus'' life. And now it was his turn to do likewise. "How many will die? These are our own men, general." "Everyone dies," he said eerily. "But one in three become like us." Shamus took in the odds. So Burns had gambled with his life like a game of handgun roulette? Of course he did. "And how many resist it altogether?" Shamus asked. "It''s hard to say," Burns said, staring at Shamus and pausing. The man was hesitating about something. What was it? He touched the tip of his three-cornered hat. "But in general, I''ve never seen a Frostmarked willingly undergo a blood blending." Interesting. All these years serving the Flintlock alongside dire soldiers, and only now did he learn of such a thing? It was like a secret only a few were let in on. And perhaps it was linked to why the Flintlock wanted the Frostmarked dead so badly. Aside from their being the scum of the earth, of course. Still, the Flintlock typically were sparing in their use of dire soldiers, using them only when absolutely needed. Most generals were dire, and some of their lieutenants. Occasional elite squads were endired for special missions. But never before had Shamus heard about an entire company being transformed? That was ludicrous. "We end them here," Burns said. "There will be less of us, but we''ll be far stronger than ever before. We cannot afford to fail." Shamus leaned down into the swamp and felt a leather boot tucked under a supply box. Heaving, he pushed the box aside and pulled up a limp figure. "So we''re medics now," Shamus said. "Healing with our blood." Burns cracked a smile, his lips curling to one side. The tall, slick man let out a soft chuckle. "What''s funny about that?" Shamus said. He grabbed the figure out from the ground. "We''re not spreading life," Burns said, tossing back his head. His tricorn hat shifted backward as he did. Shamus furrowed his brows. He yanked on the boot of the limp figure on the ground. The person''s face was covered in a gray hood. Strange. That wasn''t typically worn by soldiers. He picked up the unconscious figure, lifting it with both of his arms so as to pry the body free from between an entrapping supply box. "Blending," Burns said, his eyes glowing red. "Is a basic principle of any magical element. In this case, it allows me to pass down power from me to you, granting you the powers of the dire soldier." Shamus'' eyes narrowed. This wasn''t making sense. "How does that work exactly, Sir?" "We all die," Burns repeated. "Excuse me, Sir?" "You and I," Burns said. "We''re already dead." Shamus stumbled backward in shock. How could he be already dead? That didn''t make any sense. As he registered the truth of the revelation, he dropped the body he had been holding, which slammed against the ground with a thud. The overdrawn hood fell back, revealing the face of a frost mage girl. Chapter 22: Taste of Home The air tasted crisp and sharp as Frolick breathed in, passing over an enormous frost-stricken drawbridge. It creaked under Molly''s steps, her elephantine hooves testing the strength of the wooden crossing. Below the travelers flowed a moat filled with the water as clean as the purest spring. It was so clear that Frolick could make out the minute details of the rocks lining the bottom of the man-made trench. A small stream flowed into the moat, seeping water from the River Tempus, which was situated less than a half-mile away from Hailstone Keep. So this was Hailstone Keep, huh? Frolick gazed around with wide eyes as he took in the sights. The buildings were surprisingly...normal. Truth be told, Frolick wasn''t exactly sure what he''d expected to see¡ªperhaps he''d expected a skyline with icy spires, buildings made of translucent ice, and walls shimmering with prismatic colors. This place certainly wasn''t that, nor anything else that was out-of-the-ordinary. It was quite a bit colder than any place he''d ever been to before. Not that he was an avid traveler by any means. In spite of that, there was one particular element of Hailstone Keep that Frolick couldn''t quite put his finger on. He felt at home here but wasn''t sure why. After gazing about for several minutes, he finally decided that it had to be the high-quality presentation of the place. Every aspect of the city looked as if it was cared for and nurtured to perfection. Not perfection in the artificial sense like mass-produced trinkets. No, this place looked like it was cared for the way his mother cared for their home¡ªwith the utmost love and dedication. The cobblestone path they trodded upon cut through the town along orderly stone pathways. The road looked as if it were laid down by a skilled artisan with no stone out-of-place. The homes were well-groomed and organized without excess rubble. Even the guards of the city wore armor that looked like it was forged with the quality and dedication of his father. That must be it, Frolick decided. He recognized why he felt at home. The order and quality of the place reflected the same type of care and high standards that he experienced growing up. Interesting. It was odd how he associated that with homeliness, but perhaps he''d always taken his parents'' attention for detail for granted. His dad was a Frostmarked, after all. Frost powers worked best when one had an intimate understanding of a thing, usually best achieved by creating high-quality constructions of it. His dad was a highly-skilled craftsman. This attention-to-detail translated into other parts of his life as well. And his mom, was, well, his mom. She poured herself into raising her children and creating a cheerful atmosphere at home. Frostmarked or not, she gave herself to her work in the home with love and affection, which meant her children were well-taken care of. "This is quite a remarkable place if I do say so myself," Frolick said. Every inch of the city reminded him of home. It was so ordinary and so livable. "I''m sold. Going to buy a house and raise my kid here." He still wore a strap that held the sleeping child close to his chest. Every other traveler had tried holding the baby, but the child seemed to only be truly at ease when with Frolick for some reason. So, he acquiesced. "Finally attached, are you?" Frost said. "He certainly seems to be taking to you." "Well," Frolick said. "Can''t say I won''t miss the little fella. But, as I said, he''s probably better off with a real home in the end." Frolick drooped his head and took a long look at the sleeping baby. "Hopefully, we sort everything out soon enough," Frost said. "Hey, where are we going anyway?" Frolick asked, peering down from on top of Molly. Quartus walked calmly, chatting with a few of the guards who were escorting the group. They seemed to reverence Quartus and take his instructions.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. In the meantime, bystanders gawked. Frolick wasn''t sure if they were looking at him or Molly and the muskoxen. Surely they''ll have seen plenty of animals up north? But then again, it may be the smell. By now, Frolick had learned to ignore it. Frost tilted his head. "Quartus is arranging us to have lodgings for the evening." "Oh, nice," Frolick said. "Hope I can get me a free meal with that. Don''t get me wrong, love wild game, but a nice pot of hot stew every once in a while is not a bad thing." "He said we''re going to a place called the Woolly Rhino Inn," Frost said. "Hope he knows we don''t have any money," Frolick said. "Not sure if they would even take Capscatian crookles, but I ain''t got any if they do." "He offered to pay," Frost said, grinning. "Well, even better," Frolick said, grinning. "Mighty generous of him. Hope he''s rich because I will be feasting like a king." Frost rolled his eyes. ... Frost and Frolick sat across from one another at a table in the corner of the Woolly Rhino Inn. Their hair and skin were still moist from their warm baths. It had taken over an hour of scrubbing to remove the scent of the muskoxen, and even still, they weren''t quite sure if it was completely gone given that they had grown so accustomed to it. A fire flickered in the hearth, heating the entire dining room on the first floor of the building. The child slept soundly in a wooden infant rocker provided by the inn owner''s wife, whose own children were fully grown. Frost sipped hot stew from a metal spoon. The soup contained caribou meat mixed with carrots, mushrooms, and potatoes boiled in a salty broth. It sizzled in his mouth. The meal was so delicious that he had a hard time keeping himself from slopping it down like a madman. But what were a few stray slurps? It had been a long time since he''d had a meal like this. Salmon and bear were good and all, but then again, so was home-cooked stew. "I can see you two are hungry as wolves," the serving woman said, carrying two cups of hot cider to accompany their meal. "This is good stew," Frost said, scarfing down the food. "Sorry, it''s just been a long journey for us." "Oh, I don''t mind," the woman said. "We get mostly rough types from up north visiting our inn. Trappers from the bush looking to trade their wares in Hailstone. But your accent is foreign," the woman said. "Capscatian?" "Right you are," Frolick said, grinning as he grasped the hot mug of cider between his hands. It was warm to the touch. "Don''t get many visitors from that far away," the woman said. She looked to be in her early twenties with jet black hair and a curved, plump frame. "I''m Garika, pleased to meet you. My parents own this inn. That''s a sweet child you have there. May I ask where his mom is?" "She, unfortunately, didn''t make it," Frost said, lowering his eyes. "The Flintlock are ruthless." "Oh," Garika said, her voice turning somber. "Sorry to hear that. I heard there were many deaths. Word travels fast in this establishment." "We''re just watching him until we can find his relatives," Frolick said. He slowly sipped the sugary liquid. The drink was scalding hot. "Well," Garika said, her eyes fluttering. She brushed her hands nervously against her plain apron. "That''s awfully sweet of you." "Child only sleeps when he''s with my brother," Frost said, shrugging. "So we''re watching him for now." "If there''s anything I can do, let me know," Garika said, nodding. "The Woolly Rhino is lucky to have such esteemed guests." "Esteemed?" Frolick said. "I mean, of course, yes, we are very distinguished visitors from Capscatia, we are." He puffed up his chest as he spoke. "I mean," Garika said. "I also came to give you this." She removed a rolled-up scroll from her pocket. It was closed shut by a frost seal. The seal was stamped with a snowflake emblem. It was a six-sided star with geometric patterns along each vertex. Frost''s eyes lit up as he took the scroll. Removing the seal, he began to unfurl the paper. The parchment crinkled in his hands as he flattened it out. "It''s the king''s seal," Garika said, whispering. She covered her mouth with her hands as she spoke. Frolick''s jaw dropped. "The king? Of Hailstone Keep. I mean, of course, yes. The king is finally seeking us out. It''s about time." Garika nodded. "I''m curious as to what it says?" "It''s a royal summons," Frost said, perusing the note. "We are asked to pay a visit to the Royal Throne Room of Hailstone Keep at noon tomorrow." "Wow," Frolick said. "That sounds like quite an honor. For two fellows who ain''t got a dime to their name no less. I mean, oh, never mind." He shook his head, no longer able to keep up the ruse. Garika''s eyes widened. "The king himself wants to see you both. Who are you? What business are you on here?" "We''re nobodies," Frolick said. "Well, my brother here has got frost powers and all but, you know, that''s a dime a dozen in these parts." "Frolick," Frost said, pointing at the bottom of the scroll. "That can''t be right." "What can''t be?" Garika said, peering over their shoulders. The bottom was stamped again with the royal seal and signed in an elegant cursive script. In your debt, King Quartus Frolick nearly jumped out of his seat, knocking over the mug of cider. The ceramic mug stayed intact, but the hot liquid began pooling on the wooden floor of the inn. "Oh, don''t worry," Garika said. "I''ll clean it up." She rushed to the back of the inn to retrieve towels. Frost and Frolick looked at each other with wide eyes. "I think I finally understand," Frost said. "Why Quartus could frost form an entire city." Frolick scratched his head. "I reckon only a king would have built one before." Chapter 23: Blood Mage Dead? Shamus was already dead. Blood magic? Blending? He had so many burning questions. The general had revealed secrets that only exposed more mysteries. Things he didn''t understand. Things he yearned to know. He looked down at the body of the frost mage captive. She wasn''t safe to keep around, but Horace insisted that she not be killed. Not yet anyway. "I see you have questions," Horace Burns said. "Like why you are still alive even though you aren''t. Why I didn''t let you kill this frost mage. What the plan is?" Shamus stared back silently. "Very well," Horace sighed. "I''ll indulge you, but only because I need a lieutenant I can trust." "I''m a corporal," Shamus said. "Consider this a field promotion," Horace said. "With more to come if you deliver on your promises." "Thank you, sir," Shamus said. That was a massive promotion. Not only had he been promoted several ranks, but he was now an officer. A dead one, apparently, but still an officer. "There are thought to be five magical powers in the world," Horace said. "Though they were, for the most part, silenced ages ago. The dominance of the frost mages saw to it that magic was...frozen in time." "Why would they do such a thing?" Shamus said, clenching his fists. "Because they''re vile," Horace said. "But that doesn''t mean that everything they did was wrong. We have science and technology precisely because the world has learned to not rely on magic. Perhaps that was their reasoning for it. I don''t know." "But if you''re a ..." "Blood mage," General Horace said. "The dirty secret of the Flintlock Empire is that it''s ruled at the top by blood magic. Even the emperor himself is himself an endired blood mage with far more power than I''ll ever know. Only those that survive the blending make it. As much as we value technology and progress, we are still ruled by ancient ways." "So you want to restore the old order?" Shamus asked, scratching the back of his head. "By no means," Horace said, scoffing. He held out his hands. "This, this is far better than anything we could have come up with on our own." "What?" Shamus asked. Ash, blood, and water mixed together in the swampy battlefield. Half-dead soldiers lay stricken and dying on the ground. This wasn''t much to look at. "The frost mages erased magic from the world thousands of years ago, and then departed from civilization. In ancient times, frost mages conquered the world. They rooted out all forms of magic other than their own. Then they left. The world was forced to grow up without magic or even superstition." Shamus scratched his head. "Sound shockingly dull?" Horace said. "Yet it was brilliant. The world flourished. Science. Progress. Not tied down by the crutch of magic, people were forced to innovate. The Flintlock Empire is the primary beneficiary of that technological progress." "Interesting, Shamus said. "Yes, of course," Horace said. "But we could never let common people rule themselves. Under the secret influence of blood magic, we''ve influenced the course of that scientific progress to enhance that which we value most ¡ª death." Shamus stood silently, unsure of what to say. "The march must go on," Horace said. . We have armies ready to die for us. All without the use of magic." "But I thought you just said," Shamus said. "That you''re a blood mage, and we use dire soldiers." "Yes," Horace said. "Because it helps to have a little bit of an edge every now and then. But it''s certainly not something for the masses. Only the strongest can handle real magic, which now includes you, Shamus. You''re one of us. If you survive and help me destroy Hailstone Keep. The real Hailstone Keep." "But how can we possibly destroy something like that?" Shamus said. "By raising an army," Horace said. "Of dire soldiers and things far more powerful. You''ll see. You have to fight fire with fire. Or, in this case, magic with magic. We''ll either win or die, driving an assassin''s stake through their heart. Either way we win. We''re already dead anyway."Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. "Through blending?" Shamus said. "What does that mean?" "Blending," Horace said, his hands clasped behind his back. "Is exactly as it sounds. It''s the comingling of essence. Mine and yours. Every magic has its base liquid element. For a frost mage, it is water. For a blood mage, it is blood." "That sounds," Shamus said, grimacing. "Disgusting." "And yet you''ve never experienced such power," Horace snapped, his eyes turning red. "Blood magic is by far the most powerful form of magic in its fullest form, yet it is also the most costly." Shamus scratched his head. "You''ll learn eventually," Horace said. "So you''ve made me powerful? But how?" "This," Horace said, pointing to the soldiers. "Is the tip of the iceberg. True blood magic can transform. But it requires...sacrifices." Shamus cocked his head. "What kind of sacrifices, sir?" "Any kind of blood sacrifice," the general said. "Animal sacrifices work, but they can be messy. Occasionally, animals survive and become endired. Then they can spread it to other creatures in the wild. Not a great result. Too imperfect." Shamus gulped. This was a dirty secret. "Are you saying that the Flintlock Empire is murdering its own people?" "I suppose," Horace said. "It depends on how you define a person. Is a dying man on his last legs without full consciousness really a person any longer? Is a homeless drunk a full person? Even more so, consider a murderer or a rapist. Hasn''t such a person who''s committed atrocities relinquished a right to be called a person. This is a very difficult question, you see." Shamus wasn''t sure what to make of it. It seemed...wrong. But who was he to question this man? "Aren''t we committing atrocities?" "Perhaps," Horace said. "But such a question depends on perspective. We are higher life forms. Immortals. Gods." Shamus tilted his head. "Besides," Horace said, brushing his shoulders. "We find ways to sacrifice without disturbing society too much. We cannot encumber progress and stability. The old and dying can be finished off, the homeless can be recycled, prisoners can be executed. You see, the killing must continue. But we find ways to make it efficient. Neat." Shamus started to shake his head. He wasn''t fully buying the general''s argument. Even if he was himself dead now too. "Consider also," Horace said. "The civilization we''ve granted the world. We''ve just conquered Capascatia to the south. What was the state of their country when we arrived?" Shamus stroked his chin. "Medieval," he said. "A thousand years behind our own." "Exactly," Burns said. "You see, the Flintlock Empire perfectly combines the most powerful form of magical rule with advances in science and technology. We''ve figured out how to synthesize the two ways of life in a way that the frost mages never could. We''ve blended two principles that allow us to deliver the perfect society." "But all this," Shamus said. He glanced around, looking at the death and destruction all around. "Is it really necessary?" "Of course it is," Burns said. "You can''t make an omelet without cracking eggs. We need death to fuel our powers. And to fuel progress. But I see you are not convinced. So I''ll let you in on a deeper secret. The reason for our entire campaign." "What is that?" Shamus said curiously. "We don''t like killing," Burns said. "Well, some do, but that''s not the point. We''ve realized there are more potent ways of fueling blood magic." "Not sure I understand," Shamus said. "There are two things that make a death more powerful to us," Horace said. "Such as?" Shamus asked. "The first is a willing victim," Horace said. "That''s often what determines whether blood sharing successfully endires a soldier. Those who resist cannot become endired." Interesting. That was perhaps why Shamus has been so successful. He enjoyed having these new powers. Five, to some extent, he also enjoyed killing with these powers. The bloodlust ran strong within him. "And the other way?" he asked. "Perhaps you can figure it out," Horace said. "I''ll give you a hint, despite what you''re taught in school, not all people are created equal. Far from it." Shamus pondered the point. Suddenly, it hit him. The Flintlock Empire killed in battle, yes. But it ordinarily didn''t kill the peoples it subjugated. Except one type of person in particular. "Frost mages," Shamus said. Burns'' lips curled upward to one side. "Exactly." "That''s why we''re hunting them," Shamus said. "Killing Frostmarked grants some sort of power to you?" "A single frost mage," Horace said. "Is worth a thousand normal soldiers. It''s enough to create an army of dire soldiers or a dozen monstrosities that on their own would level entire villages." "That''s why you''re here then," Shamus said. "It''s a way to grow your power." "My power would rival the Flintlock Emperor''s if we destroyed Hailstone Keep," Burns said, his eyes glowing red. "But even if we don''t, I''ll settle for a dozen outlying villages." Shamus looked down at the frost mage girl on the ground. He thought he should feel sick to the stomach, but Horace was right. He''d been taught from his youth that frost mages were the enemy. They weren''t real people, having given up their rights to be considered human through their practice of this hateful art ¡ª frost magic. Strangely, his heart didn''t even beat as he pondered her sacrificial fate. His blood didn''t pulse. Perhaps that was what being dead felt like? "Do you want me to finish her then?" Shamus asked. "No," Horace. "It is better if I do it." The powerful general walked toward the girl, who was slouched down on the ground. Horace pulled out his knife. Shamus watched without feelings. It was as if his emotions had been ripped clean out of him. Was he even a man anymore after what Horace had done to him? As he observed the general, Shamus realized why for so many years of his military career he had been asked to hunt the Frostmarked. His orders had always been to keep them captive while awaiting a senior officer. That was why this frost mage girl was still alive. She had been one of the prisoners kept outside the encampment. Waiting for the right person to execute her. Shamus had killed the occasional frost mage, of course. When no senior endired officials were nearby, the mages were executed on the spot. But Shamus was now an endired officer himself. Five, did that mean that Shamus would start to absorb powers now when killing them? He wasn''t sure. As questions raced through Shamus'' mind, Horace lifted his knife into the air, staring at it like it was some sort of prized possession. The general''s eyes burned red as he then bent over and pulled the girl up by her hair. She was fair-skinned and still unconscious. General Burns looked his knife over for a brief moment, his eyes flicking between the weapon and the girl. Then he plunged it into her heart. Chapter 24: A Royal Reward "Welcome Frost and Frolick," Quartus said. His wizened white beard hung from his chin, quivering as he spoke. "To my humble abode." The king''s throne room was large and majestic. A dozen guards lined the perimeter of the room, wearing chainmail vestments, smooth metallic helms, and steel gauntlets. Their eyes glowed blue from under their visors, watching. One of the royal handmaidens held the child for Frolick. She caressed the baby, rocking him to sleep. "Why didn''t you tell us you were a king?" Frolick blurted out. The child''s eyes popped open at the loud noise, and he let out a bristling cry. Frost immediately elbowed Frolick in the ribs. "Ouch." Quartus'' lips curled upward, pausing for a moment. "And what would that have changed? I am in your debt for saving my life and the lives of my countrymen. My status does not change that." "It''s just that," Frost said. "We would have been¡ª" he paused, trying carefully to pick his next words. "Less yourselves around me," Quartus said with palms upward. He stood up from his throne and walked across the room to meet the two brothers, clasping their shoulders warmly. The king wore a thin golden crown and red silk robes. "Perhaps," Frost said. "There is much you do not know about Frosthaven," Quartus said. "And the ways of the frost mage. Come, there is someone I would like to introduce you to as I know you have many questions." King Quartus led the brothers down a hall, passing by an empty dining hall and the staff''s quarters, before entering into a massive library. The room was filled with more books than Frost or Frolick had ever seen in their lives. Spiral bookcases rose in columns from the floor to the ceiling like pillars. There had to be at least five separate floors filled with nothing but books of every size and subject imaginable¡ªold books, new books, scrolls of ancient parchment, and worn leatherbound tomes. "What is this place?" Frost asked, looking around in awe. "This is the Royal Archive of Frosthaven," Quartus said. "It contains records of our history as a people and those of every other nation around the world going back thousands of years." "This place is amazing," Frolick said, gawking. As he took in the sight of the room, his head began to feel faint, and his insides churned. Was it something he ate, or was it the shelves'' spiral compilation that made him feel dizzy? "You asked a lot of questions," Quartus said, looking at Frost. "And you want to learn." "This is a lot to take in," Frost said. "Thank you." The king smirked, shaking his head. "Don''t be ridiculous. All the books in the world are useless without a proper teacher." Then his grin widened as he caught sight of a wiry man wearing a pair of circular wooden glasses. The man wore a white cloak and had shaggy brown hair. "Thomas." The man jerked his head and approached. He bowed reverently as he neared Quartus and the brothers. "Quartus, what brings you to the Archives today?" "Keeper Thomas," Quartus said. "I would like to introduce you to Frost and Frolick. I owe my life to these two." Thomas bowed again. "Anyone whom the king is indebted has my deepest respect." He turned to look Frost and Frolick individually in the eyes as he spoke. His expression was gentle and sincere. Then he returned his gaze to Quartus. "Any word from your niece, my lord?" Quartus sighed, drooping his head slightly. "Still no word, Thomas. But I am hopeful she will be back soon." "She shall remain in my prayers, my liege," Thomas said. Frost and Frolick looked at each other, unsure of what to say. "Sir," Frost said. "Is everything all right?" Quartus said. "Oh, she''ll be back. She always finds a way. She''s a tough girl. You would know."This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. The brothers hesitated. "Alta?" Frolick said, connecting the dots in his mind. His eyes lit up. "Is your niece?" "Indeed," Quartus said, raising his arms. "Several of the others in our group have not yet returned. They may simply be observing the Flintlock to ensure their retreat." As the king spoke, Frolick''s stomach began to rumble. His heart beat faster, and he could feel sweat pour down his neck. What was going on? He clutched at his stomach. Something wasn''t quite right. "Allow me to introduce you both to Thomas. He is not just the Keeper of the Archive, he''s also the appointed delegate of Everwinter University for Frost Magic." Frostilicus'' eyes lit up at the mention of a university. "Ah," Quartus said. "I see I''ve caught your attention." "Very well, my liege," Thomas said, lowering his glasses and peering over the tops of their rims. "Everwinter is the finest school in Frosthaven, perhaps the world, typically reserved only for top students from lower schools or apprenticeships." "Well, my brother here," Frolick said, "Is an excellent blacksmith. I''m sure he''ll fit in right well, he will. Can''t say he''s too bright though, if I''m honest." "Hey," Frost said, shoving Frolick. "I''ll show you who''s not bright." "See what I mean," Frolick said, winking. The pain in his insides subsided. Perhaps all he needed was good cheer. "I''m afraid we only accept students from approved apprenticeships, those sanctioned by Everwinter as providing acceptable standards of quality," Thomas said. "But¡ª" Frost said, pausing. He was unsure what to say. Had he really made it all the way here just to be excluded because he didn''t have the right experience? "I can show you what I can do? Maybe that would help." Thomas shook his head. "Afraid not." "Yes, yes," Quartus said, waving his hand at Thomas. "Don''t torture the poor fellow." "Very well," Thomas said, looking at Frost and Frolick from over the rims of his glasses. "There is another way to get into Everwinter." "Which is?" Frolick said, raising his eyebrows. Thomas really knew how to build up needless suspense for less-than-dramatic effect. "Which is," Thomas said. "To pay handsomely for it. We allow nobility from the surrounding baronies to send their children to Everwinter. It builds good relations with our neighbors, but mainly it helps keep us in business. We don''t work for free, you know." Great, Frost thought. Now they expected him to pay? He had no money. All he had was a mission. Quartus rolled his eyes. "Get to the point, Thomas." "All right, all right," Thomas said. "Thankfully for you, Quartus has offered to pay your tuition and lodging in full." Frost''s eyes widened. He couldn''t believe what he was hearing. This was his dream. To learn how to be a frost mage. "For both of you," Thomas said. Frost blinked. Well, that was surprising. Would Frolick even want to join in? Of course, he would love to have his brother by his side. "Me?" Frolick said. "A frost mage? I''m afraid I''ve got no talent for that frost forming thing my brother does." "While Everwinter is primarily a school for frost magic," Thomas said. "We firmly believe that supernatural skills are built squarely on top of natural ones. As such, we have departments on a variety of subjects from mathematics to carpentry to commerce to...animal husbandry." "Really?" Frolick said, lifting his chin. His ears perked, and he could feel adrenaline coursing through his veins. "Why yes," Thomas said. "I have heard of your kinship with animals from Quartus. You will be most welcome in Everwinter, as will your mammoth." Frolick grinned widely, his lips seeming to touch both of his ears. "You mean Molly can come too?" He turned to his brother. "Frost, this is amazing." His voice was exuberant. "Oh, she will be most welcome," Quartus said. "Everwinter has sufficient land to care for her needs. In fact, we keep a herd of mammoths very close to Everwinter." "She is a queen mammoth, you know," Frolick said. "You''ll see. She''s something special." "I''m sure she will be happy there," Thomas said. "Quartus has agreed to allow her to join the royal stableyards, which is tended to by our pupils." "It is the least I can do," Quartus said, tilting his head. "She is quite an animal." "Thank you so much," Frolick said, grasping Quartus around the shoulders. The best part about this was that he''d get to be near his brother. "This is better than we could''ve possibly hoped for." "I am a king," Quartus said. "I repay according to my station." "Of course," Keeper Thomas said in a nasal voice. "Everwinter is an independent academic institution of the highest standards. As an emissary of that institution, I must disclose to you that Quartus, even as king, has no authority or influence over our remit beyond that of monetary reimbursement." Frost nodded. "Ookay," he said. "What does that mean?" "It means," Thomas said. "My dear fellows, that our objective as an institution is the pursuit of the objective truths of the Metaverse and all that it contains without regard for politics, fashion, or comfort." Thomas paused to take a breath, ruffling his cloak with his hands. "We must maintain these standards," Thomas continued. "Because without them, frost magic would simply not work. But it also means we apply the same standards to our students." That made sense. Frost and Frolick nodded. "That sounds fair," Frolick said. "As such," Thoms said. "You will be subject to the same rigorous disciplines as the rest of your fellow students." "Great," Frost said. He couldn''t wait to see how he stacked up. "And one more thing," Thomas said, leaning in. "There is, of course, a condition that the king has placed on his agreement to pay for your matriculation at Everwinter." Frost and Frolick eyed the king, who calmly stroked his white beard. "I have but a single request," King Quartus said. "And it concerns the child." Chapter 25: Prophecy "This child," Quartus said, signaling for the royal handmaiden to enter the archive. A young woman walked in calmly, holding the sleeping child in her arms. He was wrapped in a lavender blanket, his head nuzzled against the woman''s shoulder. She was escorted by two guards. The heavyset soldiers wore fully plated armor and carried large halberd axes. Quartus said, "His origins must remain a secret." "Oh, well that''s easy," Frolick said. "Because we have no idea what his origins are." "We saved his life," Frost said. "But were told his parents died." "Perhaps it is better that it remain that secret," Quartus said. "But even mere knowledge of his existence and from whence he was saved will be dangerous." "Why is that?" Frost asked. "What is so special about him?" The babe burst out screaming, tears falling from his eyes. The handmaiden patted his back soothingly in response, rocking him back and forth in her arms. "Don''t be so callous, Frost," Frolick said, shaking his head. "You''ve done gone and hurt his feelings, you have." "I¡ª" Frost said. Then he rolled his eyes. "If they are studying at Everwinter, my liege," Thomas said. "They will soon put two and two together." "Indeed, it is as I feared," Quartus said, looking somber. "I have bound myself in a trap of generosity." "Now you have to tell us," Frost said, tilting his head. His curiosity was paramount. Besides, it wasn''t like the guards and royal staff didn''t know. He doubted that something like this, if it was truly compelling, would remain a secret long. "Very well," Quartus said. "I suppose it is better that you have a full understanding of the truth so you can understand my request. Formatus est." "What?" Frost said. "Oh, it''s just a saying," Quartus said. "Thomas, perhaps it is better if you explain."If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. "Indeed, Sire," he said, eying the brothers. "His majesty means a fully-formed mind, one with deep understanding of a thing, is better placed to act in alignment with the overall objective. It is a fundamental principle of the Metaverse¡ªformatus est." "Thomas," Quartus said, irritated. "I meant the child. Not the saying." "Oh, right," Thomas said. "My apologies, my liege. I misunderstood." Thomas reset his glasses and cracked his knuckles. The man stretched out his wiry fingers. "I have been researching the child''s origins in order to find any known relatives in Hailstone Keep base on the account Quartus gave of his parents before they were, ahem, um, executed." Thomas paused, his lips curling down. "Such a terrible turn of events. In any case, I believe this child was one of the Sylax." "Sylax?" Frolick said, looking at his brother. "What does that mean?" "The Sylax," Thomas said. "Are a Frostmarked tribe to the south of Hailstone Keep. Unfortunately, given their geographic location, they were the first to be attacked by the Flintlock." "They were caught completely off guard," Quartus said, shaking his head. "A terrible thing. But in a way, their deaths alerted us to the Flintlock incursion. I traveled down to save as many as I could." Frost clenched his teeth. The mere mention of the genocide made him want to stand up and fight. "There''s more," Thomas said. "There is an ancient prophecy in Frosthaven. That we are to await the ascent of the Fifth King¡ªthe Quintus." "Fifth King?" Frost said. "Quintus?" "I am referred to as Quartus," the king said. "But it is more of a title than a name. When we met and you failed to recognize me, I realized you were foreigners. My real name is Titus." Frost gawked. Quartus, er Titus, had been right. There was so much he didn''t understand. It was all quite confusing. "All kings of the Fourth Age are known as Quartus. However, it is said that the dawn of the Fifth Age will come from the Sylax," Quartus said. "Interesting," Frolick said. "But how do you know that this child is the child of prophecy?" "We do not," Thomas said. "But given that his tribe was wiped out, it seems a reasonable guess that he could be the ¡ª" "You can say it," Quartus said. "Quintus," Thomas said. "The Fifth King. Or, perhaps more correctly stated, the first of the Fifth line of kings in the dawn of the Fifth Age." "I have no heirs," Quartus said. "Should I die, it''s not clear how the throne would continue." "Scholars have been studying the question quite intently," Thomas said. "Including myself. We believe there may be sufficient legal justification to pass your line to your niece." "Alta?" Frolick said, eyes wide. "A Queen?" "Speculative," Quartus said, nodding. "The Council of Elders will have final judgment on that matter when the time comes. Unless the Council determines that the Fifth Age has dawned, in which case, well, we simply aren''t sure." "What would let them make that determination?" Frolick asked. "The prophecies are not entirely clear," Thomas said. "However, most scholars believe that the Fifth Age will begin with death and destruction." "Such as?" Frolick asked, tilting his head. "Such as," Thomas said, furrowing his brows. "The destruction of Hailstone Keep, a bloody massacre, and the death of the last Quartus." Frost and Frolick gulped. Chapter 26: Everwinter If Hailstone Keep looked like the perfect castle, Everwinter very much looked like a university par excellence. There were finely hewn medieval buildings worn by their years. They wore their age well, green vines overrunning their stone walls like the wrinkles on the face of a venerable king. Several of the buldings had ornate structures that jutted up into the sky like pristine cathedrals surrounded by ancient flower-covered trees. Pink and yellow flowers left petals lining the trim grass fields like a rose blanket on a spring day. It was a sight to behold. And yet, in the midst of its ordinary beauty, this school was a bastion of magic. Frost could sense it. They traveled along brick-laden paths that zig-zagged across the campus like the interlocking weave of a spider web. Frost observed the activity that surrounded him. Each building appeared to be dedicated to a different use with students hard at work both indoors and out. He observed crafts, real-world skills being taught. In the open yard, he observed a young man, not too much older than himself, working to cast an iron sprocket wheel. The man wasn''t particularly skilled. As a trained blacksmith, Frost could spot his mistakes. And yet the man was attentive and focused. "We''ve made it," Frolick said. "Your dream come true." He rode on top of Molly, who curled her trunk as she walked. "Everwinter." Frost looked up from where he rode in a horse-drawn carriage with Thomas. The wiry man held the reins, directing the horses along the path toward the admissions office. "Indeed we are here," Thomas said, pushing up his glasses to keep them from falling off the tip of his nose. "Welcome to Everwinter." "It''s quite a beautiful place," Frost said. The scenic backdrop held snowy mountains, rose-colored flowers, and stone buildings. Further beyond were stables filled with animals, and beyond that, frost-flaked farms set upon rolling hills. "I hope you do not mind," Thomas said. "I have taken the liberty of signing you up for the standard classes for first-years." "Really?" Frolick said. "What are they?" "Ah yes," Thomas said. "I have the list right here." He ruffled through his coat pocket, keeping one hand on the reins. The horses trotted along, winding their way further into the courtyard. "First," Thomas said. "Mathematics." "Maths?" Frolick said, pursing his lips. "We came all this way to learn maths? What has that got to do with frost magic?" "Mathematics has everything to do with frost magic," Thomas said. "It is the language of the universe. Besides, measurement and accounting are part in parcel with any walk of life even if you do not ultimately pursue the path of the frost mage." "What else?" Frost asked, curiously. "My favorite, of course, is Literature and Lore," Thomas said. "My own class." "Oh no," Frolick said. "Don''t think we''ll survive that one." Frost shot him a glare. "Only kidding of course," Frolick said. "I love me a good story."Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. "Philosophy," Thomas said. "Is taught by Master Alderton." "Now that one I don''t understand," Frost said. "How does that tie in with frost magic?" "Philosophy," Thomas said, shaking his head. "May be the most important course you''ll ever take at Everwinter. Everything about frost magic is tied to one''s understanding of the Metaverse, which can only be contemplated through proper use of reason." "Frost," Frolick said. "I''m beginning to regret coming here. Maybe I''ll return Quartus back his scholarship. Save him a bit of coin I will. Not much of an academic type, I''m not. No sir." "Nonsense," Thomas said. "Everyone can benefit from learning the truths of the Metaverse." "Three courses?" Frost asked, changing the subject. "Well," Thomas said. "Each student takes five per semester. Three mandatory and two electives." Frost perked his ears. "And what are those?" "Ah yes," Thomas said, reading from a list. "If you tell me which ones you prefer, I''ll go ahead and sign you up. Keep in mind that students are expected to master at least two meaningful trades by the end of their second year." "Great," Frost said. "I''m a trained blacksmith, so that''s one." "Ahem," Thomas said. "That would be established once you can prove your ability by passing the Foundry Exam. In any case, your elective options are Cartography, Alchemy, Foundry, Animal Husbandry, Agriculture, Carpentry, Textiles, and Cooking." "Cooking?" Frolick said. "Not sure what that has to do with frost magic but I think I''ve got my mind made up. Cooking and Animals for me." "You''ve just chosen the two easiest courses," Frost said, frowning. "You should try to challenge yourself." The horses trotted along, each stip clopping along the brook paths. Molly''s hooves were a bit louder with each step, of course. "Who said cooking was easy?" Frolick said. "It''s a mighty difficult skill, it is. To get a cake baked just right, not too burned, not undercooked. Same with a holiday goose." "He does have a point," Thomas said. "Master Chef Hamblett is a renowned cook. Her exquisite meals are considered the finest in the Northern Reach. Not an easy course by any means." Frolick placed his hands on his hips and perked up his chin. Almost losing his balance, he thrust his hands back onto Molly to keep from falling off. "Animal husbandry?" Frost said. "You''ll be the best one by far. You should challenge yourself." "Then how else would I find time to spend with my dear Molly?" Frolick hugged her fur. She flicked her trunk gleefully. "It''s going to be a busy schedule with all these maths and philosophizing and whatnot. Need to have some mammoth time to balance it all out. But enough about me. What are you choosing Frost?" "I don''t know," Frost said, stroking his chin. It was all so sudden. He was most drawn to Foundry. But given his background as a blacksmith, he was worried it would be too easy. He also wanted to acquire new skills that could be useful as a frost mage. "Thomas," Frost said. "Yes?" Thomas replied. "I''ve seen Alta turn water into liquid fire," he said. "How did she do that exactly?" "Why you can learn those skills in Alchemy, of course," Thomas said. "It includes the study of chemical compounds including distillation. Distillation is very practical in commercial trade because it includes the creation of wine, spirits, and oils." "So Alta formed water into oil?" Frost said. Thomas nodded. "Her family owns a large distillery on the outskirts of Hailstone. She is quite a skilled apprentice." "Interesting," Frost said. "I think I''ll try that course. Will have to think about my next selection." "You should select textiles for sure," Frolick said, bobbing his head while flailing one of his hands. "Fashion design. It''s so you." "Very funny," Frost said. "You should know," Thomas said. "That textile design is one of the most useful skills for frost magic. It tends to be a very popular class." "I''m afraid I don''t follow," Frost said, a puzzled look crossing his face. "It''s a difficult course," Thomas continued. "Requiring a good aesthetic sense, weaving ability, dye-gathering just to start." "But what does that have to do with it being useful?" Frolick asked. "I mean, I don''t think I have any interest in making clothes." "Clothes, dresses, suits, hats," Thomas said. "Are a lucrative business. But for the home, there are rugs, curtains, furniture coverings, beddings. For the hunter, there are tents, camouflage, boots, mittens. For sailors, there are ropes and sails. The list goes on." Frolick abruptly pulled on Molly''s reins. She halted in place. "Uh oh," Frost said. "I think you just piqued Frolick''s interest." "I''m afraid now it is I who do not follow," Thomas said. "I''m switching to textiles," Frolick said. "I have to take textiles." "Okay," Thomas said. "But I am truly befuddled." "You just said his favorite word," Frost said, raising his eyebrows. "Camouflage." Chapter 27: First Scoop Settling down into their lodgings was easy and efficient. The entire process had been managed by Everwinter''s administrators. The brothers were given a shared duplex room inside a large student residence on the northwest corner of Everwinter''s campus. Molly was relocated to the stableyards where she received ample attention from the other mammoths and plenty of feed from the stablehands. Frost had been quite surprised to see how quickly the entire process transpired. From his arrival to being fully settled was less than a day. The university operated at a high level of efficiency with surprisingly minimal bureaucratic waiting periods. On top of that, their arrival coincided with the beginning of the school year. Perhaps that had been why Thomas and Quartus had helped the process move so quickly? On their first day, the brothers were treated to the Welcome Feast in Greatwinter Hall. It was a massive wooden building that looked almost like a cathedral. Inside, there were long, oak tables that ran vertically from end to end. Fiery torches burnt like pyres from chandeliers. There were more along the walls, providing ample lighting to the room. Each table contained a feast worthy of a king. Roasted turkeys, mashed potatoes, and apple pies gleamed at them from decorative red and white ceramic plates set on top of neatly pressed white tablecloth. The waitstaff served a variety of drinks from sweet orange nectar to warm apple cider. Lining the walls were additional tables full of trays for self-service including meatballs, fried potatoes, battered fish, and warm stew. Artisanally designed plates and bowls were set at each seat with immaculate placement. Folded red napkins were rolled around metal utensils. Seat cushions lined the hard wooden chairs. Candles topped each table, adding even more ambiance to the already festive scene. Frost and Frolick could not believe their eyes. Never had they seen such a sumptuous feast. The tables were lined with students wearing pressed uniforms, greeting each other actively in lively conversation. "Hello there," a girl said, walking up to the two brothers who stood dumbstruck at the entrance to the hall. "Um," Frost said. "Hi." "I''m Prisma," the student said, reaching out her hand. She looked to be a similar age as Frost. "You''re not from around here, are you?" "Not really," Frost said, shaking his head. "Well, grab a seat," Prisma said. She had jet black hair and wore a blue uniform with a yellow crest in the shape of a six-sided frost star. Resting on her nose were enormous wooden glasses. "Welcome to Everwinter. You can join us if you like." She pointed to a table on the far side of the hall, in the distant corner. "Sure," Frost said. "He means sure, we''d love to," Frolick said, lips curling up. He elbowed Frost. "Right, um," Frost said. "We''d love to." "Don''t mind my brother," Frolick said. "We''ve never been to a place quite like this before." "Don''t worry about it," Prisma said. "This far up into the Northern Reach, most foreigners wouldn''t expect it." "How did you know we''re foreigners?" Frost said. "Your accent, your dress, your surprise," Prisma said. She feigned a look of surprise with an open mouth and wide eyes. "Oh, it''s all right. Come join us." Frolick and Frost followed Prisma to her table at the far side of the hall. Several dozen students chatted in lively conversation. "This is Alex," Prisma said as Frost and Frolick seated themselves. They sat across from Prisma and a young man who looked surprisingly like her. He had black hair, a pointed nose, and wore the same collared blue uniform as everyone else. "Guests again?" Alex said, annoyance in his voice. "Prisma, why do you keep bringing strays to our table?" Of course, they were the only ones seated at their table. "Oh, be nice," Prisma said. "Forgive my brother. He''s got no manners. None at all." As she spoke, her glasses slide off the tip of her nose. They fell to the ground, each lens shattering into ten thousand pieces. Frost immediately bent down to assist. "Oh no," he said. "Let me help you." "There you go again," Alex said, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "Don''t help her. She''ll be fine."The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Who was this guy? Frost thought to himself. Could he be any more rude? Before Frost could be of much help, Prisma had snatched up the wooden frame of her glasses. The frames were intact, but both lenses were missing, their pieces coating the floor of Greatwinter Hall like precious diamonds thrown into the ocean, and lost forever. "I''m so embarrassed," Prisma said. "Sorry about that. Just one minute." "I''m sorry about your glasses," Frost said politely. "Will you be able to see?" Prisma dipped her left hand into a cup of water. As she flitted her wrist, water trailed the tip of her index finger like the tail of a kite floating in the wind. She playfully formed a figure eight in the air, water curling into the pattern she drew. Frost looked on in awe. Prisma then touched her finger to the wooden frame. The water snaked over the glasses and then spread out, forming an icy lens, congealing into frozen ovular shapes perfectly fitted to the wooden frames. Geometric patterns momentarily spread across the lenses before dissolving, giving way to perfectly refracted glass lenses. "See," Alex said, matter-of-factly. "Told you. "Wow," Frost said. "Neat," Frolick said. "That was amazing. Haven''t seen that trick before." "Oh," Prisma said, blushing. "It''s nothing. Our father runs the Refractory in Hailstone. We''re both apprenticed there." Alex held up his fingers and flitted them in a mock display of power. "Your father?" Frolick said. "Does that mean you''re¡ª" "Prisma''s my twin sister," Alex said. He picked up a glass of hot cider and sipped it. "I know, a little embarrassing. For me." Frost tilted his head. "Welcome to Everwinter," Prisma said, her lips forming a line. "I am guessing that you are both first years like both of us. Can I ask where you are from?" "Capscatia," Frolick said. "We''re not sure it''s worth saying that too loudly though. Don''t want people to take advantage of us, being foreigners and all." "Oh," Alex said. "They''ll take advantage of you. Especially Halorax." He eyed a boy seated three tables away. He was a massive young man with broad shoulders, a scruffy beard, and dark brown hair. Halorax laughed heartily while holding onto a half-eaten leg of a duck. Seated around him were a group of other boys who seemed to laugh as if on cue. "Oh, ignore him," Prisma said. "He''s just being a gossip." "Halorax''s family owns Hailstone Foundry, at the heart of Hailstone Keep," Alex said. "They''re literally the wealthiest Frostmarked family alive except maybe Quartus himself." Frost scratched his head. Foundry? Well, at least that was something he was familiar with. "Anyway," Prisma said, changing the subject. "I want to hear more about you. What is Capscatia like? We''ve never been outside the Northern Reach." Her eyes darted between Frost and Frolick. "Well," Frost said. "It''s not much in comparison to this place, that''s for sure." Suddenly, Frost was interrupted by a loud gong from the stage at the back of Greatwinter Hall. The sound reverberated through the enormous room like the boom of a Flintlock cannon. Thomas stood on the stage alongside a dozen other professorial types. They were much older than the students. Some had gray hair, while others had no hair all. "Welcome," the man at the center said. "To Everwinter University." He wore a blue robe lined with geometric stars in a hundred subtly different patterns. He was tall and lanky with a white wizened beard, not too different than that worn by Quartus. Was that part of the local style? The crowd hushed. Students sat with attention at the end of their seats. Frost thought he could hear the slightest clink of spoons in the silence. "To first-years," the man continued. "I am Master Alderton, your headmaster. Before we begin the opening ceremonies, however, I would like to announce that we have two very important new students at Everwinter." Frost''s stomach immediately backflipped, and he exchanged glances with Frolick. He sincerely hoped Alderton was not referring to them. Their preference being, of course, to keep a low profile. "It is rare that we receive a royal scholarship from Quartus himself," Alderton said, his voice intonating upward as he spoke. His lips curled upward. "Which I was happy to accept when I learned that two young men saved his life. I would like you to all welcome Frostilicus and Frolick Shatterblade." Alderton immediately fixed his gaze on the two brothers and motioned from them to stand up and come to the stage. So much for keeping a low profile. Frost''s stomach felt like it was thrown into a blender and pur¨¦ed. He walked onto the stage with the wide eyes of four hundred students watching him intently. Very uncomfortable. If this was a war, he could manage that. In the heat of a battle, his adrenaline kicked, in and he moved on instinct. But in front of the prying eyes of four hundred strangers? That was a completely different experience. Frolick, on the other hand, patted him on the back and walked up confidently onto the stage with a puffed-out chest and a wide grin. Five, his brother was a natural. Frolick clasped the hand of Master Alderton and shook it vigorously, accepting the praise of the headmaster. Frolick leaned over and whispered into Frost''s year, "C''mon Frost, just pretend it''s a game, an act. Put on a show." So that was the trick, huh? Frost relaxed his gait and followed suit. If Frolick could do it, then so could he. "I would like to personally thank you," Master Alderton said. "For saving the life of King Quartus from the hands of the Flintlock. Our kingdom owes you a great debt of gratitude. We are honored to have you study at our humble school." Alderton bowed slightly at the waist as did Thomas and the other professors. Five, it didn''t look like a humble school. This hall alone was as big as half his village. And the food. Well¡ª "We are the ones honored to be here," Frolick said, his voice chipper and his posture confident. "This place is amazing. And this feast is something else." Alderton chuckled. "Young man," he said. "We saved the best for last. And you''re invited to do the honors. Master Hamblett?" A stout woman emerged from one side of the stage. She wore a gray apron with a blue star pinned to the top. She rolled a heavy wooden barrel on its side across the stage toward Alderton. The rickety wooden stage rumbled under the pressure of the enormous keg. Frost could sense its coldness. Was there frost magic inside it? "Ahh," Alderton said, licking his lips. "The best indeed." "What is this?" Frost asked, furrowing his eyebrows. "The first scoop," Thomas said, leaning in. "Or, I suppose the first two scoops. It''s considered a high honor at Everwinter." "The first scoop of what?" Frost asked, staring questioningly at the barrel. "Why ice cream, of course," Thomas said, beaming. Chapter 28: Frost Fight "Now this," Frost said, "Is the best thing I''ve ever tasted." He licked his ice cream cone, his third of the night. The cool silky texture lit up his taste buds with sugary sublimity. The experience was like a gentle wave crashing against a smooth sandbar on a calm beach. Transcendent. "I quite like it myself," Prisma said, licking her cone. Her jet black hair blended against the night sky. Prisma''s piercing brown eyes kept focus, darting between Frostilicus and the path in front of her. She was a few inches shorter than him. Her face was smooth and tan, her body thin, and her posture straight. The two of them walked together in the open, away from Greatwinter Hall. It was beginning to rain. The gentle pitter patter of droplets hitting the stone ground. Frolick had remained behind in a lively conversation with Alex. Frost didn''t catch much about the topic. Something about the applicability of mathematical models to biological systems. It turned out that Alex was a genius, especially when it came to math. And Frolick was, well, Frolick. He could socialize with anyone. "I''m glad that our brothers are already friends," Prisma said, biting into her cone. "Alex can be prickly. Most people find him uncomfortable." "Frolick gets along with just about anyone," Frostilius said. "It''s a real virtue of his." "Why yes," Prisma said. "He does." "Thank you for welcoming us," Frost asked. "To Everwinter. It''s nice to know other students here." "Of course," Prisma said. "I didn''t know you were heroes. To be honest, I just wanted someone else to talk to. Someone besides Alex." She glanced sideways at him as she spoke. "Well, you accomplished that," Frost said. "And I hardly think we are heroes," Frost said. "We''re just here to learn." "Learn?" Prisma said. "Oh, of course. This is a university. You traveled an awfully long way to get here. Is that the only reason you came?" Frostilicus hesitated. "I came," he said. "To learn how to fight the Flintlock." "Flintlock?" she said, sighing. "I see." "They tried to kill me," Frostilicus said, his eyes narrowing as he spoke. "They did kill my friends and neighbors. And they''re coming here next." Prisma hesitated. "You don''t think so?" Frost said. "Everyone here seems to think that nothing should be done about it." Suddenly, Prisma grabbed him, yanking on his shirt, before he could take another step. "Quiet," she said, her index finger covering her mouth. A dark figure cast a hulking shadow on the pavement obscuring the light of the torchlamp.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Halorax. The large young man with a brutish muscular figure emerged backed by two others, slightly shorter than him but just as stocky. "Well, well, well," Halorax said, clasping his hand into a fist. "If it isn''t the savior of the kingdom." "Back off, Hal," Prisma said. "Why Prisma," Halorax said. "Making friends with foreigners? That''s not very patriotic of you. Savior or not. He should be taught the ways of the frost mage." He clenched his hands into fists, pounding them into one another. Prisma stood back erect, positioning herself between Frost and Halorax. "It''s all right," Frostilicus whispered. He''d faced off Flintlock. What was an imbecilic plaground bully? "No," Prisma said. "You can''t." "I''ve fought the Flintlock, Prisma," Frost said. "He''s nothing." "He''s a trained frost mage," Prisma said. Frost hesitated. She had a point. He''d seen what a small handful of frost mages had done to an entire army. What exactly was he up against? "How about we do a little dance Cappyboy?" Halorax said. "You are Capscatian, eh? I can hear your runt of an accent. Come to learn the civilized ways of the frost mages? Let me be your teacher." He smirked as he talked, neck muscles bulging while he eagerly cracked his knuckles. "Why don''t you show me what you''ve got?" Frostilicus said, clenching his jaw. "I like this guy," Halorax said, turning to his minions. "Glom, Grub, take note of his attitude. Fun while it lasts. I''ll beat it down to size." In an instant, Halorax''s eyes glowed bright blue. The droplets of water soaked into his clothes began to quiver, vibrating violently. Then they sprung out from his person like water from a dog shaking itself dry, leaping out in all directions. In an instant, they snapped back in place around his hands, steel gauntlets of the highest quality forming around his fists. The gauntlets were immaculately formed. Like finely forged metals. Frost recognized the handiwork instantly. Gloves of this quality would sell for a month''s wages in Capscatia, and Halorax had formed them instantly. And they were headed straight toward Frost''s face. Prisma gasped, but Frost reacted on instinct, ducking just in time to evade the blow. When he glanced up, a swirl of raindrops encircled Halorax like a glowing tornado. As it spiraled downward toward his person, each drop stuck, forming pieces of armor unlike anything Frost had ever seen before. This armor was ornate, with spirals weaved into it alongside frost stars. The frost formed metal continued to look more like, well, frost. Geometric shapes formed and remained rather than disappear as they did with Frost''s work. The armor itself had a jagged shape to it, like it was something that mimicked frost itself. Frost''s eyes widened. A shiver ran down his spine. For such a brute, Halorax''s armor was stunning. Where could he learn how to make something like that? "What''s the matter, foreign scum?" Halorax said. "Never seen frost magic before? Then you picked the wrong place to stay." Halorax barreled forward, carrying the weight of the armor like it was his own skin. The young man didn''t bother to form any weapons, only to attack with his hands. Frostilicus snapped to attention a moment before Halorax made contact, leaping out of the way. He landed on the ground with a thud, falling into a muddy puddle. Glom and Grub laughed, pointing fingers at Frost. "He didn''t even hit you," one of them said. Frost hadn''t yet learned to distinguish the two. Fine, Frost thought. He wants to play it that way? "You should''ve let him die," Halorax said, pivoting himself to glare at Frost''s prone figure. "The old king is bad for this country. Bad for the world." Frost stared at the ground, pushing off with his hands in a push-up. Drops of water fell from his doused face. His leftover ice cream was smothered in the dirt a few feet away. His shirt and hands were covered in mud. Then his eyes glowed blue. In an instant, he pulled. The water snapped into form in a split-second around his body. He didn''t bother with anything fancy. His armor didn''t look half as decorative as Hal''s, but it was strong. Very strong. "What in the Northern Reach?" Halorax said, mouth dropping. At that point, Frost leaped to his feet and punched him in the gut. Chapter 29: Frost Fight "They say the only way to get along with a bully," Frostilicus said in a low voice. "Is to teach him that he''s weak." He stood up with his back erect, staring down at his adversary, huddled on the ground. Halorax lurched onto his side, reeling from the pain. He clearly hadn''t expected Frost to fight back. Glom and Grub stood on the sidelines, unsure of what to do or say. They were frozen in place, their eyes darting between Hal and Frost. A few other students had gathered nearby, watching the spectacle. Their mouths were open and eyes wide. "Let''s go, Frost," Prisma said, grabbing his arm. "I think we''re done here." Frost turned to leave. It was a short walk back to his housing, and the night was getting cold. "Coward," Halorax spat, standing up. His glowing blue eyes vibrated in the night. They flickered like torchlight. He couldn''t let it end like this. No, Halorax needed to save face. "Fight me." Frost ignored him. Halorax pulled on the rainwater, a sword forming in his hands. It glowed bright blue. The weapon was razor-sharp and had spikes near its hilt just above the grip where Hal clutched it with two hands. "I said fight me, scumbag." Frost jerked his head. Was he really pulling out a sword? Clearly, the man''s ego was bruised, and he wanted to double down. But would he really fight with a deadly weapon? Hal charged. Frostilicus reacted on instinct, pulling on the rainwater puddled up on the ground. It snaked into his hands, forming a classic two-handed broadsword. It wasn''t as decorative as Halorax''s weapon, but Frost doubted it was any less sturdy. They exchanged blows. Halorax moved like a trained swordsman. He swiped left and right. Hal was bigger and stronger than Frost, but, somehow, he seemed less...experienced. Halorax slammed his sword, Frost catching it with his own. Then Frost sidestepped and kicked Hal in the shins. This wasn''t supposed to be a fight to the death, but Hal''s anger was building. Would it be? Hal turned around, seething. "You''ll pay for that." The crowd was gathering to watch the fight. More eager students joined, their hearts beating fast in anticipation. Hal burst forward in a blind fury, swiping and thrusting with his sword. He fought like the brute that he was ¡ª a trained brute, yes, but still a brute. Frostilicus parried, blocked, and dodged each blow gracefully. Whatever strengths these frost mages had, they didn''t grow up on the streets of Capscatia. Knowing how to hold your own with a sword, especially as a blacksmith''s son, was critical to gaining respect.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. The bully breathed deeply, gasping for breath. He was outmatched and knew it. The crowd had grown tenfold since the beginning of the fight. Frolick and Alex were also in attendance. Hal dropped his sword on the ground as if signaling the end of the match. Had he given up? Frost followed suit. Letting go of his sword, he watched it splash in the mud before dissipating into water as he released its form. He stared at Halorax across the large puddle in the ground. The rain continued to beat overhead, drenching the watchful students. The crowd cheered on Frost. Frolick, in particular, let out a loud whooping noise. This wasn''t turning out to be Halorax''s best day. Then the angry Hal smirked. In an instant, he pulled on the rainwater from the puddle. It formed a spiral, collecting droplets of rainwater still falling from the sky. It twisted until it formed into a long spear. Frost''s eyes glowed. Did the man never quit? Frostilicus pulled on the opposite end of the still-forming frost spear. It twisted and contorted in mid-air, forming a long cylindrical tube between the two Frostmarked students. Their powers wrestled with each other in a magical test of might, the strain visible in their faces. Back and forth, the water ebbed and flowed like a match of tug-of-war. Distortions formed in the cylindrical spear, tiny fractures in the ice. Bits of the spear converted to water and then back into ice. Back and forth it went¡ªcracks forming and then melting and then re-freezing over and over again. The spear writhed under the tension. Frost focused his powers, but Halorax was too strong. The bully had grown up in Frosthaven and trained in frost powers his whole life. Frostilicus had incredible raw power and was arguably a better swordsman, but when compared to a Frosthaven native, his magic was left wanting. When it came to brute force, Frost was outmatched. His grip weakened, he felt himself lose his grasp on the ice spear. Hal would win this one. Frost would have to yield this small victory. But suddenly, he had an idea. Something that would put Halorax on the edge, using his own force against him. Frostilicus smirked and narrowed his eyes. He expanded his mind, taking in the full form of the spear. It was a strange design. A distorted mixture of Capscatian medieval weaponry and the more illustrious ancient design of Frosthaven. It had a long shaft that dazzled with blue light. Frost stars danced along it like pictures in a temple wall. They whispered the secrets of geometric proofs and mathematical truths as old as the universe itself. While the form of the spear shifted and contorted, the frost patterns themselves stayed the same. The frost was eternal. Immutable. Halorax desperately wanted this spear to show he was the strongest. The young man pulled it toward himself with the ferocity of a spoiled child. He wanted to prove that he was the strongest figurehead at Everwinter. He wanted to prove that no filthy foreigner could stand up against him. If that''s what he wanted, then fine, Frost thought. Let him have it. Frost focused instead on the tip of the spear nearest Hal. There he concentrated his powers, forming the tip into a sharp blade. He''d cast a thousand spears in his life, and with every one, the tip was perhaps the most important part. It made the weapon deadly. Murderous. The tip formed like a knife point barely visible to the naked eye. The smaller the tip, the more deadly the blade. Frost felt the tension in the spear like a coiled spring. Halorax was pulling it toward himself. All Frost had to do was let go. So he did. Chapter 30: Killer Instinct The spear flew toward Halorax, zipping through the air like an arrow from a bow. The crowd gasped as the frost spear coruscated like a shaft of radiating magic that illuminated the courtyard with neon blue light. Halorax''s eyes widened in fear, and his jaw dropped as he realized what Frost had done. Rather than resume their tug-of-war, Frostilicus simply let Hal win. Of course, that was after forming the tip facing Hal into a deadly blade. A killing stroke. The blade flew toward the wide-eyed student who witnessed his entire life flash before his eyes. Glom and Grub turned away in shock. Was this the end? Halorax was sure it was. Recognizing his witless mistake, Hal screamed in fear. Adrenaline coursing through his body, he leaped to one side as the spear soared through the air at lightning speed. It burrowed itself into his right shoulder, first gashing a hole through his frost armor, and then slicing through muscle, tendon, and sinew. The pain shot through Halorax''s nervous system like a bolt of electricity. It was excruciating. The crowd gasped in shock at the sight. Halorax had narrowly evaded a spear through his heart, but it instead impaled his right shoulder ¡ª in one side and out the other. Could a spear even be that sharp? Apparently, it could. Halorax yelled at the top of his lungs, his eyes bulging red while blood dripped out of his injured shoulder. His dominant right arm was limp and disabled. Looking around, he only saw silent students. The crowd that had once adored him, worshiped him, now stood looking on in shock. Was he a mere amusement? "Help me," Halorax said, turning to Glom and Grub. His two friends were already gone. Had they abandoned him too? He grasped at the spear with his left hand. His stomach turned in knots as he fell to his knees. The blood kept pouring out. He''d never felt this kind of pain before. It wasn''t bearable. His vision began to fade. If he survived this, what would he be? His family wouldn''t accept him. He couldn''t work a foundry with one arm. No one at Everwinter would respect him after this. In the blink of an eye, the curtains were drawn on his entire life. He was beaten. Humiliated. Destroyed. All because of some foreign scum. "Frost," he whispered to himself, clenching his jaw.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Then he blacked out. Prisma stepped forward. "Get an Ice Medic," she said aloud, running toward the collapsed Halorax. "We need to freeze the wound, or he''ll lose too much blood." The crowd turned in on itself, calling for a medic. Prisma ran to the fallen Halorax with all the earnestness of a healer. Several other students came forward to help. They placed their hands near the unconscious Hal''s wound and together applied a simple freeze gauze to stem the bleeding. It wasn''t that different than the trick Frost had used to stem his own blood flow. The water around Hal''s wound turned into a transparent sheet of ice, stymying the blood loss. Prisma left the spear shaft in place. Something that would need to be dealt with later. As she worked, a woman in white robes arrived. "Master Ellana," Prisma said, eyes fluttering up. "This wound is deep," Ellana said, kneeling down and examining Halorax. "But your work here is well-done, Prisma." Prisma held back a smile. It wasn''t appropriate to bask in praise. Not now. "What happened here?" Ellana said. Her white robes fluttered in the light of the of the moon. Her brown hair rustled in the wind. Everyone turned to look at Frost, who still wore Capscatian-styled frost armor. "He attacked me," Frost said, open palms forward. "I defended myself." Was that a bad thing? "That will be determined by a Court of Masters," Ellana shot back. She glared at Frost, narrowing her eyes. Frost gulped. Master Ellana returned her attention to the wound. "The spear," she said, examining the frost spear, still protruding out of each side of Hal''s shoulder. "Has sundered his brachial artery. If we remove it, he will die without a proper amputation. We must get him to an infirmary now." One of the students stepped forward and conjured a sled of ice. It was expertly crafted. Much better than Frost and Frolick''s makeshift sled. Working together, the crowd lifted Halorax onto the sled. Frost watched as the crowd dispersed. Rain continued to pelt him in the head and shoulders, soaking his clothes. A small group followed Master Ellana, pulling Halorax''s unconscious body. Prisma walked up to him and glared. Five, the look on her face made Ellana merciful, Frost thought to himself. "What you''ve done here today was absolutely terrible," Prisma said. "You nearly killed him." "It was self-defense," Frostilicus said. Did she not understand self-defense? "He attacked me. With that same spear." "But he wouldn''t have killed you," Prisma said, shaking her head. She placed her hands on her hips. "You don''t know that," Frostilicus said. "I''ve fought killers before. The only way to survive is to act on instinct before it''s too late." "That''s exactly the problem," Prisma said, her eyes watering. "What is that exactly?" Frost asked. "You have a killer instinct," Prisma said. "That doesn''t belong here at Everwinter nor anywhere else in Frosthaven." Chapter 31: Belonging This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Chapter 32: Endiration The final remains of the Snowjack Infantry Company were a meager lot ¡ª 300 dire soldiers. Lieutenant Shamus Sharpshot oversaw the company alongside General Horace Burns. Frost magic killed most of their company, and blood-blending had killed off the majority of those that remained. But this final army, they were the elite of the elite. These wouldn''t be ordinary dire soldiers. They were survivors out for blood. Hungry for vengeance. Shamus had made sure of it. These men were more than just battle-hardened. They wanted to taste the sweetness of dead frost mage. "300 is a good number," General Burns said, pacing. He observed the army standing at attention. His black tricorn hat shaded his eyes from the noonday sun. His uniform looked neat in spite of it being splattered in blood. "We''ll be going up against an overwhelming force. Ready to die if need be." "Sir," Shamus said, saluting. "We are already dead." Burns smirked, tipping his hat. "At ease," he said. "Indeed we are. Indeed we are." The soldiers relaxed their salute and remained standing before General Burns. "Soldiers," the blood mage general said. "You have been entrusted with a power beyond anything you have ever experienced in your lives. The power of dire blood granted to you by myself. You are nearly invincible, utterly unbreakable. But extremely outnumbered." He paced, holding his hand behind his back. His bloodied white britches stretched with each step. "Consider our reduction in numbers a mere setback," Burns said. "Yet one that will nonetheless fail to stop our march to victory. You may question how it is possible that 300 soldiers could overtake an entire nation of powerful enemies. Yet it is exactly in our numbers that we will overtake them. We will study these frost mages. Observe their cities, even learn their vile religion and philosophy. In doing so, we will learn their weaknesses. And then, in secret, we will plunge a dagger and twist." Burns slashed forward with his hand in an invisible stabbing motion. "I will also tell you a secret," Burns said. "This gift I''ve granted you will grow. Dire blood in time will grow with the more lives you take. Each kill will result in greater and greater strength, agility, intelligence until you are a fully-fledged blood mage, able to control your own blood like the frost mages do water." Burn scoffed, shaking his head. "Frost mages control water. An ordinary, plain thing. Yet we, through death, control the stuff of life itself¡ªour own blood. Blood doesn''t just freeze like water. It can do anything your body needs. A blood mage, a true blood mage can direct his own blood to work wonders, to make a new body, to heal himself, to grow new appendages, and much, much more." Burns paused for a moment to let the men consider their newfound power. It truly was a gift. The ability to master one''s own blood. Even a frost mage could never dream of such a thing. "I tell you now because I will not have time to teach you everything. Thus far, I''ve infused my own blood into yours, making your bodies stronger with my power. But through this blood-blending, I''ve endired your bodies for you. Taken the first step toward blood magic." The soldiers looked on in awe. They looked themselves over. They were stronger and bigger than before. Their uniforms were ripping in several places and would need to be repaired. "But to do this requires sacrifice. Deaths. Victims." Burns clenched his teeth. "And the most potent victim you''ll find are frost mages. I sense you will grow quickly, given how many victims you will find in the general vicinity. But you must kill in secret. We need time to grow and learn. To study our enemy. Until we are ready to strike them in the heart."This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. Several of the men cheered on at the suggestion. "Death to frost mages," one of them yelled to applause. "Consider what I''ve said today," Burns said. "You will be disbursed throughout Frosthaven in squads of five. We will form a network of informants spanning the entire nation. 300 men will be plenty for what we need for the time being." General Burns paused to allow the information to sink in. "Your orders will be given shortly. Think about what I have said. For now, you are dismissed." The company departed, the men breaking out and scattering around the camp. They chatted with one another about what the general had just revealed. Dead or not, it was hard to keep from being a little bit excited about the prospect of becoming a blood mage. And revenge, of course. Sweet, sweet revenge. That was front and center on their minds. "Interesting plan, general," Shamus said, nodding. "Do you think it will work?" "I''m not giving up," Horace Burns said, eyes flashing red. He clenched his hands into fists. "I''ll never give up. Not when so much is at stake?" "At stake, Sir?" Shamus said. "Of course, Lieutenant," Burns said. "The power to become a god. Don''t you feel it? To rival the Emperor himself? I''ll not let it fall through my fingers like water. No, never." So that was what this was all about, Shamus thought to himself. The blood mage general had alluded to it earlier. The power granted by killing a frost mage advanced one''s blood mage abilities. "Sir," Shamus said. "How many victims do you need?" "It''s not just about numbers," Burns said. "It''s about quality. The stronger the sacrifice, the more potent." "So that''s why you plan to disburse the men?" Shamus said. "You intend to hunt down the most powerful frost mages in the Northern Reach." "You have a quick mind," Burns said. "I see the endiration is quickly taking root in you. You should know, I have a very special in mind for you." "Oh?" Shamus asked. "What would that be, Sir?" "Revenge," Burns said. "A blood mage''s first responsibility is repayment of debts." "The mage who did this," Shamus. "You want him dead." "Exactly," Burns said. "You will hunt him down. And butcher him. I imagine your abilities will grow significantly from doing so." Shamus paused, considering his mission. It wouldn''t be an easy one, tracking down an unknown frsot mage deep within their own territory. But assassinations were his strong suit. He wasn''t called Shamus Sharpshot for nothing. Shamus also wondered to himself how powerful the general was exactly? Burns hadn''t really done anything particularly out-of-the ordinary for a dire general other than grant his powers to other soldiers. And even then, he''d only done it when he really needed to. He''d only created 300 dire soldiers. Surely he could do more than that? But then again, maybe that was his upper limit. Shamus himself could only endire a dozen at most before facing exhaustion. 300 was an army in and of itself. Still, Shamus had to wonder whether General Burns was withholding his powers. What could the man truly do? All his years slaughtering frost mages around the world had to account for some sort of power. Did he hope to rival the Emperor himself? It didn''t matter now. Shamus was beholden to the general one way or another. Burns had taken notice of Shamus and promoted to him. His career, his fate was attached to the general''s in a way that he''d never get away from. Shamus did have a suggestion however. Something that might help. A simple idea. "Sir," Shamus said, pacing alongside the general. "Yes, Lieutenant," Burns said, impatience in his voice. "What else do you want to know now?" "A willing victim is more likely to survive enduration," Shamus said. Horace scoffed. "Have you learned nothing? You yourself took advantage of that principle today." "Yes, I know," Shamus said, thoughtfully. "But I had another thought. What if that victim is a frost mage?" Horace stopped walking. He grasped the tip of his tricorn and adjusted the fit. "Impossible. Frost mages are our sworn enemies since ancient times. They are resistant to blood-blending. Even within their own element, frost-blending is virtually unheard of. They are isolationists at heart." "I know," Shamus said. "But what if it were possible?" "Well then," Horace said. "If it were possible, then such a creature would have the dual abilities of blood and frost magic at once. I''m not sure what that would look like in practice, but it would be far beyond anything I can imagine. I wouldn''t waste your time on this, however. It''s simply not done." But Shamus couldn''t help but wonder. He walked several paces behind Horace, hands clasped behind his back in imitation of the general. Shamus furrowed his brows in deep thought. What if there was a way, he wondered. It might just give them the perfect weapon. Chapter 33: Masters Court "I hereby convene this tribunal," Master Alderton said. "To assess the injuries inflicted upon Student Halorax Strongforge by Student Frostilicus Shatterblade on the first day of Fallwinter in the courtyard not 400 meters from Greatwinter Hall. Master Ellana, can you please summarize the alleged matter at hand?" Alderton sat alongside four other professors around an elevated semi-circular table. The Master''s Court was a private convention that included only Frostilicus and the five senior Masters. Frost was seated in a plain wooden chair facing the masters at the center of the semi-circle. Surrounded. "Indeed," Ellana said. She wore her usual white cloak along with a somber look on her face. "After being summoned from Greatwinter Hall during the welcoming feast by a group of panicked students, I arrived to find the fallen, unconscious body of Student Halorax Strongforge, surrounded by shocked onlookers. A frost spear was impaled through his right shoulder, severing both his nervous system and brachial artery." "What was the cause of this attack?" Master Elkriss, the mathematics professor, said. He had a wiry build and unkempt hair. "A fight," Master Ellana said. "Had broken out in the courtyard between Halorax and Frostilicus, the foreigner." "Fights are prohibited at Everwinter," Elkriss said, eying Frostilicus. His tone was adroit, and his words crisp. "I should remind you, young man, that your status as a royal invitee does not privilege you to break the rules of Everwinter. We are all equals here." "Yes, I am aware," Frostilicus said. "Master Thomas has explained that to me." "Indeed I have," Master Thomas said. He was seated at the end of the row of professors, on the opposite end from Elkriss'' seat. "Even the fact that you saved the king''s life," Master Elkriss said. "Does not entitle you here at the university. In fact, some would say you wrongfully intervened with fate." As he spoke, he crinkled his brows and steepled his hands. Frost tilted his head. "What are you implying, Sir?" It sounded like Elkriss was mad at him for saving the king''s life. "Enough, enough," Master Alderton said. "Elkriss, please keep your comments focused on the matter at hand. Ellana, can you please summarize the testimony of witness statements?" Witness statements? Frost had no idea that they were gathering witness statements. "Yes, of course," Master Ellana said. "Several students provided statements detailing the events. They state that a playful brawl was initiated by Student Halorax Strongforge. Student Frostilicus Shatterblade was punched lightly in the face by frost formed gauntlets. He responded with a brutal attack against¡ª"Stolen novel; please report. Frost''s jaw dropped. It was still very sore. "Punched lightly? That nearly broke my jaw." Alderton held up an open palm. "Silence." What was he supposed to say? It was a patently false statement. "Ahem," Master Ellana said. "As I was saying. Student Frostilicus Shatterblade responded with a brutal attack, catching Student Halorax unawares. At that point, the fight escalated¡ª "I turned to walk away," Frostilicus said, throwing up his hands. "He said silence," Master Elkriss hissed. "Alderton, if you cannot maintain order, please allow me to chair this hearing." Elkriss hunched his back and stiffed his upper lip. "That shall not be necessary," Alderton said. "We have procedures for this sort of thing, Frostilicus. I realize you are not familiar with our system, but contempt of court is punishable with fines, hard labor, or even lashings depending on severity. Please maintain your silence, and I will tell you when you may speak. Otherwise, I can dole out punishments now." Frost fidgeted in his seat. It wasn''t worth it to argue. Hopefully, he would have a chance to defend himself. "That will not be necessary." "Very well," Master Alderton said. "Ell, you may proceed." Ellana paused, eyeing Frostilicus. "Very well. Again, as I was saying, the fight escalated. Frostilicus pulled a frost spear into form from rainwater nearby. He then thrust it toward Student Halorax''s heart." Master Ellana paused for effect. "Student Halorax Strongforge only lives because he dodged the attack the last moment. It hit his shoulder rather than his heart. The arm has since been amputated." Frostilicus balled his hands into fists and clenched his jaw. What a gross mischaracterization of the fight? Who gave that testimony? How in the Five could they prosecute him for something that so misrepresented what happened? "And how is Halorax doing?" another professor said. Frost didn''t recognize her. By now, he knew Alderton, Elkriss, Ellana and Thomas. But he''d never even seen the fifth. "He is in and out of consciousness, Mildrich," Ellana said. "The anesthetics are helping, but the shock of losing an appendage can often take months to recover from." "Sorry to hear," Master Mildrich said. She was short and stout and wore round spectacles. "I hope he will be fine in the end." "He will have to give up Foundry," Elkriss said. "That''s for sure. You cannot forge with one arm." Frost wanted to jump up in protest, but he wasn''t sure if that would be allowed after the dressing down he''d just received. It was possible to forge with one arm. Perhaps not as efficiently, but it was possible. And use of frost magic would not be affected at all. Hal might not be able fight properly but, well, that was prohibited anyway. "That may not be a fact," Master Thomas said. "In any case, Master Rime of the Foundry is not a member of this tribunal." "Good point, Thomas," Master Alderton said. "And thank you, Ellana, for summarizing the testimony. May we have the names of the students who gave it?" "Yes, of course," Ellana said. "There were only three students who witnessed the entirety of the fight. The brothers Glomulus and Grubbery Gallbladder''s statements were fairly short and not very well written if I am honest. Master Thomas, you have much work to do with those two." She eyed Master Thomas while shaking her head. "And the third?" Master Alderton said. "Yes, the most damning came the third witness." "And who would that be?" Alderton asked. "Prismatia Opticus." Frost nearly fell out of his seat. Chapter 34: Tribunal That backstabbing girl, Frost thought to himself. First, she befriends him only to turn around and send him packing. Maybe Frolick did have a point about Frost''s facility to maintain relationships. "The testimony is clear," Elkriss said, narrowing his eyes. "Guilty. The foreigner shall be expelled from Everwinter." Frost''s jaw dropped, and he stood up to protest. Before he could open his mouth, Alderton held up a palm. "Let him speak," Alderton said, shifting his gaze from Frost to Elkriss. "Or have you forgotten the procedures?" He said the final word slowly and with attention to drive home the point. Elkriss would not be coopting Master Alderton''s authority any time soon. "Yes, yes," Elkriss said stubbornly. "But the facts have already laid bare his guilt. It is a foregone conclusion." "Student Frostilicus?" Alderton said, scratching his beard. "You have the floor." Frost shifted in his seat. He needed to clearly make his point. But how? Would they believe him, a foreigner, over the sworn testimony of their own? If Frost knew anything of human nature, Elkriss was right. This was a foregone conclusion. "I was attacked by Halorax," Frostilicus said. "He approached me in the courtyard after the feast, and started beating me with frost formed gauntlets." "A schoolyard brawl according to witnesses," Elkriss interjected. "We need more of that in Frosthaven, in my opinion. Categorically different than a real fight." Alderton glared at Elkriss, who slinked back into his seat. "You will be allowed cross-examination after his testimony," Alderton said. "As I was saying," Frost said. "Halorax attacked me. It was not a playful brawl. He nearly broke my jaw." He rubbed his bruised chin. If only he were more easily injured. Five, he needed to look injured. Not just feel it. "What happened next?" Alderton prodded. "I got up off the ground and punched him in the stomach," Frost said, tilting his head to one side. The Masters gasped, and their eyes widened. Elkriss threw up his hands and then pointed at Frost accusatively. "He admits it. Guilty!" Frost looked around, confused. How could they be upset about his attack but not Hal''s? This made no sense. "If you''ll allow me to explain," Alderton said. "I can perhaps clear up some of your obvious confusion." Frost nodded. "Please." "It is not the way of the frost mage to escalate conflict. You see, what may have begun with a brawl transitioned into something far more...dire."The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Frost winced at the word. Was that on purpose? "Halorax is, of course, culpable too," Alderton said. "The natural turn of events has itself doled out a punishment. But under Frosthaven law, the one who adds fuel the flames is more guilty than the one who ignites them." Frostilicus shook his head. "That makes no sense." No sensible person would have such a law. "It is perhaps counterintuitive to the way most foreigners think," Alderton said. "Think of it like a burning candle. A little bit of contained fire is okay. But if it falls to the ground and burns down the house...well then." Frost scratched his head. That actually made sense. He thought back to how the frost mages tried to spare even the Flintlock. No, it wasn''t right. It wasn''t fair. Halorax was a bully and deserved what he got. He was lucky to be alive. "People are people," Alderton said. "There will always be slight bits of tension. Personalities will clash. Disagreements will arise. Egos will be bruised. For the most part, we can let these things pass or address them in an appropriate way. But it is only when we escalate conflict in a disproportionate way that it becomes a problem." "But he attacked me," Frostlicus said. "Is it not true that the fight was over after you were knocked to the ground?" Ellana interjected. She turned to Alderton. "May we cross-examine him now?" Alderton nodded. "Very well, Ellana." "That''s not how it works with bullies," Frost said, before she could ask more questions. "You can''t let them walk all over you. I had to show him I wouldn''t put up with it." "Is severing his arm an appropriate way of responding to a light beating?" Elkriss said. "Completely disproportionate attack. You created a spear and nearly killed him." His lips curled as he spoke. "Would have killed him," Ellana added. "Had he not evaded the attack. According to witnesses." Frostilicus gulped. How could he respond to that? Elkriss'' logic was sound and Ellana was factual. Frost did let himself go. To an extent. If he was truthful, Halorax should have been killed by that attack. Most people didn''t have the reflexes to dodge a spear moving that fast. Five, Frostilicus was acting in a disproportionate way. He was guilty. Of what? Attempted murder? No, that wasn''t true. It couldn''t be. Halorax formed the spear. Halorax started the attack. If Frost had just stood there, he might be the one with a severed arm. Or worse, dead. Frost had acted in self-defense. It was clear in his mind, why couldn''t the Masters see it that way? He needed to be more persuasive. But how? "Guilty," Elkriss said gleefully. "I see no reason to drag this out, Alderton. This young man is clearly guilty and must be expelled immediately." Suddenly, Frost remembered Alex''s words. Or, at least, Alex''s words as conveyed to him by Frolick. The spear was Halorax''s. It was his own spear that pierced his shoulder. His own frost magic forced it in. Frost didn''t understand why that was important, but apparently, it had something to do with Frosthaven law. Okay then. It wasn''t like this hearing was working out in his favor. "It was his own spear," Frostilicus said, standing up. "He formed the spear and it was his own pull that struck him in the arm." "Liar," Elkriss said, his face turning slightly pink. "The foreigner lies." Alderton held up his palm to silence Elkriss. "An Inversion Argument would be valid if verified by fact." Elkriss silently hissed. "Master Ellana," Alderton said. "Is the frost spear still intact?" "Yes," Ellana said, shifting in her seat. "We removed it from Student Halorax and have it in storage. I shall ask for it to be retrieved." Standing up from her seat, Ellana gracefully crossed the room and opened the door. Her white robes flowed behind her as she walked. She leaned out the door and whispered instructions to a bailiff. Five, did they really need a bailiff? This was a university court, not a court of law? Frost fidgeted in his seat. The man ran off to fetch the weapon, and Ellana reentered the room. "It will only be a moment," she said. "Then we will know the truth." Chapter 35: Form Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Chapter 36: Inconclusive "Inconclusive?" Alex gaped. "How could it be inconclusive?" The black-haired student sat across from Frost and Frolick at a table in Greatwinter Hall. It was morning, and the hall was serving a hot breakfast of eggs and rye. They sipped hot honey tea. "The frost stars," Frostiliucus said. "The patterned shapes along the spear were a blend of a dozen unique patterns." "A dozen?" Alex said. "That makes no sense." "That''s what they said," Frostilicus said. "Beats me. I never knew the shapes had any significance before. Thought they were random, like any old frost patterns." "Of course they have unique patterns," Alex said, condescendingly. "How could you not know that? Or right, Capscation." He rolled his eyes. "Excuse me?" Frost said, cracking his knuckles. Alex was a little rude. "Don''t mind him," Frolick said. "Just his mannerisms, that''s all." Alex began, "I hardly think that ¡ª" Frolick held up a hand to cut off Alex. Probably better that Alex didn''t finish his sentence. With his other hand, Frolick forked a lump of eggs and shoved them into his mouth. "As I was saying," Alex said, sipping his honey tea. "Frost shapes found in nature typically follow certain patterns as determined by their unique topological geometry." "Topo-what?" Frolick said, shaking his head. His mouth was half full of scrambled eggs. "Topology?" Alex said. "It''s a branch of mathematics...never mind. What I meant to say is that every frost mage has unique identifiers that can be isolated from their frost patterns. It''s like your genetic code. Everyone''s is different. Children inherit a combination of genetic code from their parents." "Genetic what?" Frostilicus said, shifting in his seat. "What in the Five does that mean?" "Do they teach foreigners anything?" Alex said, puffing. He wrinkled his nose. "I suppose it would be difficult to learn genetics without advanced optical prismatics, which requires highly precise frost magic. It''s very cutting edge stuff that my father studies." "Ok," Frolick said. "We get it, Alex. We''re dumb. You''re smart. Foreigners are idiots. Frosthaven is the center of science and magic." "That''s not what I meant," Alex said, pausing. "But it''s true. Perhaps you are smarter than I thought to recognize that fact." Frost and Frolick stared blankly.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. "I suspect," Alex continued, turning to Frost. "That when you and Halorax grappled over control of the frost spear, your frost patterns blended." "Neat-o," Frolick said, his lips curling up. "How is that possible?" Frostilicus said. "It''s like recombinant genetic sequencing," Alex said. "It exists in nature, but to actually see it in frost patterns...that''s unheard of." Frost only shook his head. Genetic what? These were new concepts that he''d never heard of before. "Are you saying," Frolick said, pursing his lips. "That Halorax''s frost stars and Frostilicus'' frost stars had, um, little frost star babies?" "Frolick," Frostilicus said, jabbing his brother in the shoulder. "The thought is disgusting." "Exactly," Alex said, his eyes lighting up. "Couldn''t have put it better myself. Very precise analogy." "Really?" Frolick said, perking up. "See, I might make it in Everwinter after all." "Now wait a minute," Frostilicus said, raising his shoulders and rustling in his seat. "That must be what''s got the Masters all up in a stir," Alex said. "This is a very novel discovery." "But surely you would have discovered something like this before?" Frostilicus said. "And I also don''t really see what''s so great about it. New patterns. Whoop-de-doo." "This is new," Alex said. "Blending of frost forms is not something that has been recorded outside of ancient history. Even then, it''s only something that''s rumored to have existed." "But so what?" Frost said. "Why would anyone care?" "Why?" Alex said, standing up. "Don''t you see? This changes everything. You said the Masters were shocked, right?" Frost nodded. "Excuse me?" Frolick said. "Now I''m confused. And I thought you said I was smart." He pouted as he finished his sentence. "You''re very smart," Alex said. "If frost forms can blend. Then we may have been fundamentally wrong." Frost scratched his head. "Elkriss did say something about a fundamental question. What does that mean?" "The fundamental question?" Alex said, eyes wide and hands up. "Really?" His voice inflected upward as he spoke. "Yes, that''s what he said," Frost said. "Right before they said I was free to go and hurriedly ushered me out of the room. I suppose that means I''m off the hook." "Is it like whether or not God exists?" Frolick asked. "Seems like a pretty fundamental question to me." Alex shook his head. "No, no," he said. "Far more basic than that." What could be more basic than that? Frolick shrugged. "The fundamental question," Alex said. "Is what it means to exist." "The meaning of existence?" Frostilicus said. "Isn''t it just to exist. I mean how complex of a question is it?" Alex rolled his eyes. "I thought you knew?" "Why would you think we knew?" Frolick. "It''s not like we''ve studied this stuff. Besides, we just know we exist because we do. Oh wait, we''re stupid Capscations. Right..." He rolled his eyes, mocking Alex''s gestures. "Well," Alex said. "You talk about it an awful lot for foreigners who know nothing of our ways or teachings." Frost shook his head. "That doesn''t make sense, Alex. We don''t talk about anything having to do with that." "Five?" Alex said. "You throw it around like it''s a curse word. Don''t you have any idea what the Five is?" "Five?" Frostilicus said. "That''s just something we say. It doesn''t mean anything in particular." Alex rolled his eyes and sighed. "Foreigners are absolutely ridiculous. The Five Causes? They undergird all of reality, all of science, all of magic!" Frost only shook his head. Capscatian culture was historically influenced by Frosthaven''s, so it would make sense that their language would have picked up cultural tidbits, but that was millennia ago. "The Five Causes," Alex said. "Will be taught in Master Alderton''s philosophy class." "What are these, um, Causes?" Frolick asked. "And what does that have to do with frost stars?" "Everything," Alex said. "It has everything to do with frost stars and everything else for that matter." Chapter 37: Pity The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Chapter 38: Character This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. Chapter 39: The Five Magics If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Chapter 40: Halorax Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Chapter 41: Philosophy Class "Intelligibility," Alderton said. "Is the foundation upon which all science,all language, all of history, and even religion is based. It is the intelligibity of a thing calling out to a potential knower. Seeking to be known." "How can that be?" Prisma said. "A thing calling out to be known? Doesn''t a thing exist regardless of whether or not it is known?" "It does!" Alderton said, holding up a rock in his palm. "But take an object, for instance, this rock. Does this rock exist?" The class pondered the point. "Yes, I think it does," Prisma said. "Does Frostilicus exist?" Alderton said, turning to face Frost. "Before you met him? Did he exist?" "I wish he didn''t," Prisma said, rolling her eyes. Alderton winked, his lips curling slightly. Frost only shook his head. "He exists, and so does this rock," Alderton said. "But both are enriched by being known. A rock far away in the distance of space without anyone to know it is far less appreciated than this one. The same goes for our planet, which is so much more than a simple rock for the life which it holds upon it." The class was silent. "Similarly," Alderton said. "Frostilicus is more appreciated for your having known him, and for him having known you. The relationship is as real as the thing itself. The act of knowing creates intelligence, relationality, knowledge itself." Prisma shrugged, "I''d take him or leave him." "Can a friendship," Master Alderton said. "Or an enmity for that matter, exist without knowledge of another person?" "No," Prisma said. "I suppose not." "A person who is separated from the whole," Alderton said. "Living a life only designed to please his or herself, instead of serving the greater good, is living a less fulfilled life." "What about Frosthaven?" Frostilicus said instinctively. His forehead turned red as he spoke. "I beg your pardon," Alderton said. "Frosthaven," Frostilicus said. "Is separated from the rest of the world up here in the Northern Reach. The Flintlock ravage the nations. Yet you sit here with all the power in the world. Doing nothing. What about that?" His skin bristled as he spoke. He didn''t mean to vent but he couldn''t help it. "That," Alderton said. "Is a topic for another day." There was an awkward pause. No one was quite sure how to respond to that. Alderton himself seemed uncomfortable with the question. Finally, Prisma broke the silence. "Master Alderton," Prisma said, raising her hand. "You were saying about intelligibllity?" "Right, yes," Alderton said. "The intelligible thing is lit up and brought to life, if you will, in the act of being known. Similarly, the knower is enriched in the same act. We call this coinherence."Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. "Coin¡ªwhat?" Frolick said, shaking his head. "This is too heady for me." "Coinherence," Alex said in his typical snoody voice. "It means that there''s an elemental mutuality between knower and object." "Precisely," Alderton said, his voice pitched. "Wonderfully stated Alex. There''s a certain harmony or consonance established between a thing and the knower in a true act of intellection." "Intellection," Frolick said, clutching his head. "Gives me a headache." "Foundations of Frost Magic 101," Alex said, his eyes flitting down to a textbook on the floor. "It''s the way frost magic works." "True," Alderton said. "Yet I cannot emphasize enough the profundity of this principle. Upon it rests all of human knowledge, not just frost magic. It doesn''t just apply to material objects, mind you, but mathematics and history and stories." "How so?" Frost asked. "Take the more extreme approach," Alderton said. "Certain ancient civilizations once believed that we are merely random actors in the world, created by random chance out of circulating matter. There is no coherent story to anything." "Doesn''t sound too far-fetched," Frost said. "That sounds reasonable, actually." "Aha," Alderton said. "But there''s the rub. If all is pure unintelligible randomness, then history is meaningless. If things cannot be truly known, there are no patterns, or shapes. There is no such thing as beauty or romance." Alderton continued. "Coinherence is a unitive principle. By knowing events, we make it a story. By knowing shape, we make it a pattern. By knowing a loved one, we make them beloved. That is the definition of knowing." "What happens if there is no coinherence then?" Frolick said, puzzled. "Then things cannot be truly known, and if things cannot be known, then that which makes us persons does not exist," Alderton said. "We are less than animals. Human life and all that we consider good¡ªour art, history, beauty¡ªcan be thrown away." "We can kill whomever we want," Frost said. "Destroy whatever we want. Take what we want. Because people aren''t people anymore." Just like the Flintlock, he thought to himself. Suddenly, it made sense why Quartus was so hesitant to kill even his enemies. The good king would rather sacrifice his own life than take the lives of others unnecessarily. "Exactly," Alderton said. "We are more than a random formation of chemicals. We value life. We value the good things in the world around us. Take this building, for example. By knowing that this classroom is a classroom and not merely an odd formation of raw matter we fulfill its classroom-ness. That''s coinherence." "So then what makes us people then?" Frolick blurted out. It was just like him to say whatever was on his mind. "Doesn''t it take something other than humans to fulfill our human-ness by knowing us?" Alderton paused at the question, stroking his white beard. "Why the Almighty, of course." The Almighty? Frost jerked his head. That seemed a stretch. He believed, of course, but failed to grasp the connection. He''d learned to say his prayers as a habit, but he''d never actually pondered what or who the Almighty was. "I will attempt to summarize," Alderton said. "Our act of knowing is like a miniature version of Divine Knowing." Frost scratched his head wrestling with the point. "So you''re saying that the Almighty is some super-powerful being that knows every and all things in the universe?" Alderton was silent. Frolick blurted out, "But how do we know that''s true? I mean, we could just say that there are cosmic space dragons floating around in the stars that know things. We should ask for proof." "You''re sitting in a classroom inside of a university hall," Alderton said. "Is there scientific proof that an architect sat down and designed this structure? Not exactly. And yet everything around you reflects the work and design of the architect." It was a good point. Not something Frostilicus had considered before. "Let me give you something else to consider on this," Alderton said. "I would push the point back to you and say that you''re thinking too small. Far too small." "I don''t understand," Frost said, shaking his head. "The Almighty isn''t some fantastical super-powerful being that goes around Knowing things into existence," Alderton said. "Far from it." "But isn''t that just what you described? "The Almighty," Alderton said. "Is Being itself, the pure act of Knowing itself." "So you''re saying," Frostilicus said, tilting his head to one side. "That God, is, um, a Verb?" Master Alderton smiled, his head nodding ever-so-slightly. Chapter 42: Target Lieutenant Shamus Sharpshot adjusted his newly acquired fleece tunic as he made his way toward Hailstone Keep¡ªthe real Hailstone Keep. It was an impressive place. One wouldn''t expect to find such a fortified city of its size and build this far North. And yet there was something different about Hailstone Keep that stood out from the other cities he''d helped colonize in his career service in the Flintlock Army. It wasn''t a strange place by any means. It was very ordinary. In fact, what really struck him was how well it was constructed and cared for in its ordinariness. The sturdy walls were made of finely hewn stone connected by crenelated towers that held the exterior together like joints on a skeleton. The paths were of cobblestone, bound by a grayish grout. People pulled wagons filled with goods along the paths from one place to another. Their horses were well-groomed, and their clothing was as neatly pressed as a Flintlock soldier''s uniform. Even their attitudes displayed a certain cheerfulness one might not expect to find in the Northern Reach. Everything was immaculate about this city¡ªidyllic. Nothing seemed out of place. Five, if he wasn''t on duty, he could take his time off in a place like these. Even retire. Could he retire now that he''d been endired? Shamus wondered to himself. He wasn''t sure. But perhaps he''d ask to be stationed here after the Flintlock inevitably conquered Frosthaven. At this rate, it might be a long time before Burns decided to send for reinforcements but he''d find a way to win. Burns always won. Something else struck Shamus about the city as he looked around. Weren''t these people supposed to be frost mages? Why didn''t he see more frost structures or frost forms? Five, if they could create an entire fake city made of frost just to trick the Flintlock, imagine what they could create here? Or maybe the city was made of frost. He leaned over next to a brick building and placed his hand on it. No, it wasn''t a frost form. The brick would''ve been cold to the touch. Five, these people used ordinary work to build this place. It was as if they lived on the basis of their hard work as opposed to making use of their powers. Why would they do such a thing? He couldn''t understand that. But that wasn''t important now. What was important was tracking down the man who had flooded his army. They''d already killed the frost mage girl who''d likely been the culprit for setting their company in flames. She''d paid the price. Now it was time to find her partner in crime. Track him down where he stood, and kill him. The problem was, as soon as he opened his mouth, they''d know he was a foreigner. He''d managed to sneak into the Keep on the back of a covered wagon with only his rifle, a small bag of supplies, and himself. Using stolen clothes, he''d disguised himself as a denizen of Frosthaven. Their clothes were simple yet neat. The ones he wore were a set of brownish gray pants and long-sleeve shirt. He carried his rifle inside a cloth covering. He also wore a circular hat. It extended out in a six-inch radius, giving some shade to his face. Likely worn by agricultural workers to keep their eyes shaded during the day, allowed him to partially hide his face. His square jaw and high cheekbones might give away his identity as a foreigner. It didn''t cover him completely, but it was better than nothing. It would probably be better if he traveled at night, as opposed to in broad daylight, but he had a job to do, and observing a city was easier done during the day. So, Shamus strolled through Hailstone like he belonged there. Best to act like one of the locals. He could do that without opening his mouth and giving way his accent. Perhaps he could find something to read? It wasn''t like they spoke a different language. It was the frost mage language, after all, that everyone in the world spoke. They had taught it during the halcyon times of ancient lore when frost mages had ruled the nations. It actually made the Flintlock''s job of subjugating peoples much easier¡ªthe fact that everyone spoke the same language. Strange to see the once-great power of Frosthaven relegated to a place like this. Its majesty certainly attested to their might and power, but to be isolated out here in a distant corner of the world. A place that would be nearly impossible to get to except by those with means or incredible fortitude. Frosthaven also placed very little emphasis on trade, thus giving no incentive to foreigners to travel this far.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. The Flintlock would change all that, of course. If these people did have any interesting technology, the Flintlock would confiscate it as they did from every other people they conquered. Then they would open trade routes to other colonies within the empire. If they let the citizens live anyway. Shamus scratched his head. Would Burns let these people live? Generally, the Flintlock allowed survivors to carry on under a new allegiance. However, these were frost mages. But were they all frost mages or only some of them? Shamus wasn''t sure. He supposed the testing glass would be used just as it had been in every other nation they''d conquered. Those who tested as Frostmarked would be killed; the rest could be allowed to live. If they managed to win this place anyway. So far, the frost mages had proven to be a cunning adversary. But now, the Flintlock, or rather, the blood mages, would pull out the real weapon. Their powers, Shamus'' new powers, would be used to conquer. Suddenly, a loud voice cut off his thoughts of conquest. "Proclamation¡ªa royal proclamation by his royal majesty the king!" a loud voice thundered through the streets. Shamus walked toward the end of a winding road that opened up into a busy market square. There were dozens of stands filled with wares for sale¡ªfood, clothing, mechanical tools, medicine, and much more. A short man wearing a colorful cap with a long red feather sticking out of it stood atop a podium in the center of the square. "Gather ''round," the man bellowed. He had a loud, deep voice that seemed to carry on for a mile. Five, the man had to have the lungs of a whale. He''d no doubt make an effective officer in battle. The hustle and bustle of the marketplace calmed down, and people began to gather around the man, curious to hear what he had to say. "His majesty then king proclaims a week of mourning," the man said. "All shops will be closed promptly at two o''clock in the afternoon. The doors of every building must be marked with ash. There is a suggested fast for those who are able." "Why?" a woman called out. She raised her hands. "What gives?" "The king''s niece," the messenger proclaimed. "Alta Oliviana. Is dead." The crowd gasped. "She was killed at the hands of the Flintlock Army at the Battle of Sundered Rock," the man said. "Executed in brutal fashion, her severed head was delivered to the palace by courier this morning." More gasps. The crowd began to murmur. "Kill them," a man said, his voice was angry and hoarse. "Kill those blasphemin'' sons of curses. They ought to die for their high crimes against the crown and Frosthaven." The crowd cheered. Several more shouts ebbed them on. Shamus'' eyes widened at the news. General Horace hadn''t told him he planned to send along the girl''s head. Five, he was sending a message¡ªa strong one. The man held out a hand to silence the crowd. "The king has asked that we pay homage to the death of his niece, and pray for her soul. She had¡ªhe paused¡ªblood on her hands and will require a supplication for her eternal soul to find peace." "What do ye mean?" a woman''s voice said aloud. "She set afire to the Flintlock Army, killing more than half their number. The king prays this action was an accident as it violates our sacred ways. The king himself stepped in to save their lives." More gasps rang out from the crowd. Then silence. No one seemed to know quite what to say to that. Shamus furrowed his brows. Shouldn''t they celebrate the death of their enemies? "I say they got what they deserved," the woman said. She had braided hair and wore an angry look on their face. "Killers don''t deserve to¡ª" "It''s not our way," a bulky man said, raising his voice. "We are a peaceful people. Even in war, we find ways to make peace without killing. When killing must occur, damages ought to be minimal." "Enough with the peace," another man said. "These people are savages. Look at what they done. Sending her head along to her worried uncle. Heartless beasts!" More spoke up. There seemed to be genuine disagreement and angst in the crowd about what had transpired. Clearly, a sacred covenant had been violated in killing so many. Not something Shamus could understand, but it was useful intel to learn about. These people were pacifists at their core. That could turn out to have useful ramifications in battle. Very useful indeed. And yet some wanted to fight, while their core beliefs held them back. Was it something in the frost mage teaching that went against fighting? It would certainly explain why they hadn''t engaged the Flintlock before. Shamus observed the scuffle unfolding in the market square, his lips curling to one side. Yes, he thought to himself. This might just give them the edge they needed. If Frosthaven wouldn''t engage in battle unless it felt it absolutely needed to, then the Flintlock might just find itself holding a major advantage, especially if blood magic was involved. "Silence," the announcer bellowed from the podium. "The king has asked for a period of mourning. He asks you respect that request in honor of his niece, Alta Oliviana. Please respect his wishes." The commotion died down. The mob was angry, but they could understand the need to grieve. The only way to trump an emotional mob was with a different emotion. The wise king had clearly understood that. The call to mourning had not only been a means to pray for the soul of his beloved niece, but to reign in an angry crowd and grant peace during a period of unrest. Shamus placed his hands in his pockets and hung his head, not wanting anyone to recognize him as a foreigner. In addition to the useful information about the frost mage ways, this little announcement had given him something else he very much needed. He now knew who his target was. The man who flooded the Flintlock Army, humiliating them in battle, was none other than the king of Frosthaven. Chapter 43: Problem Solving Frost and Frolick exchanged confused glances with one another as Prisma scribbled mysterious mathematical symbols on the dark chalkboard. They were in a small room in the basement of Everwinter''s main hall. It was line with small wooden chairs, mostly empty. "I cannot believe Master Elkriss assigned me to you," Prisma complained. Prisma and her brother Alex were apparently star students when it came to mathematics. So much so that she''d been hired as a teaching assistant to Elkriss. Mathematics was essential for optical refraction, which the siblings had learned in their youth. As an assistant, Prisma earned university credits while also making a bit of money, which she sorely needed to pay tuition. The good master had, in turn, assigned her to teach the beginner''s class. Specifically, Frost and Frolick''s beginner''s class. The two students who knew very little math to begin with, and for whom Elkriss had little patience or desire to teach. "Does that make any sense?" Prisma asked, clearly annoyed. She had drawn several shapes on the board ¡ª three differently shaped triangles. "This is very basic geometry. Alex and I learned this when we were seven." "Five," Frolick whispered to his brother, the only other person in the room. "She''s beginning to sound a bit condescending." "It must run in the family," Frost shot back. "Ugh," Prisma said. "Are you even paying attention? Frolick, can you tell me what the three types of triangles are?" "Umm," Frolick said. "Ah, um, equilateral, isosceles, and left?" "Right," Prisma said. Frolick beamed. "Thanks, see I was paying attention." "No, I said right," Prisma said. "A right triangle, not left." "Oh," Frolick said. "That''s what I meant." "Did they not teach you even basic geometry in Capscatia?" Prisma said. "I mean, you seem to be able to add and subtract. What about algebra?" The two brothers shook their heads. They were open to learning, of course, but it would take time. Frost tilted his head and grimaced. "Is that like solving for missing variables?" Frost said. "I think I can do that." Prisma wrote an equation on the board. "How about this?" Her voice was cold and lacking emotion. She was still clearly perturbed by his presence. "Well, give it a go." "You mean you want me to solve it?" Frost asked. "What else would I mean?" she said, lowering her glasses. Her dark hair ran down her back. She placed her hands on her hips and stared at him, her slender figure curving to one side.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. "All right," Frost said. He could give it a go. He''d learned a little math growing up. Schooling wasn''t a necessary part of life in Capscatia. But he''d picked up on some of it. It was necessary to balance the books. Algebra and geometry, however, were more for the wealthy who had time and money on their hands. Frostilicus walked up to the board, taking the chalk from Prisma''s hand. He began scribbling out calculations, moving variables and numbers from one side of the equation to the other. Scratching his head, he paused for a moment then wrote in a few more lines, managing to isolate the unknown variable on one side of the equation. "There," he said. Prisma looked over his work. "Well, well, well," she said. "You might just have a brain after all." "We''re not savages," Frost said. "Capscatia does have cities in it, you know, and its own universities." In truth, it only had one university. And it was nothing in comparison to Everwinter. The others were more like mid-sized boarding schools. But she didn''t have to know that. "If only you used your brain more often than your sword," she said. "Maybe then you''d fit in here." "It''s not like this is good for anything, anyway," Frostilicus said. She really was beginning to sound like Alex. What a contrast from her previously friendly demeanor. "It''s all useless math. At least my blade settles things." "Useless?" Prisma said, widening her eyes. "You think this is useless? Mathematics is the basis for nearly all of science and trade and so much more. I hardly think it''s useless." "You people don''t get it," Frost said. "The world is being torn to shreds while you sit up here playing around with symbols learning useless theories about the universe that make no sense." "Violence," Prisma said. "Is what doesn''t make sense. Violence is what drove the Flintlock to madness. Would you have us join them?" "No," Frost said. "But that''s not what I''m saying. You are all pacifists." "Pacifism is our sacred code," Prisma said. "Killing must be avoided at all costs. Only when there is absolutely no other way. You almost killed Halorax. Then you''d be no better than the Flintlock you despise so much." "Halorax attacked me," Frost said. "Plus, as far as I''m concerned¡ª" "Don''t give me that lie," Prisma said, stomping her foot to emphasize the word lie. Her eyes narrowed. "I could see the look in your face. I was standing not five feet away from you. There was bloodlust. You wanted to kill him. To think, I welcomed you to Everwinter because I thought foreigners would be good for us. Turns out I was dead wrong. You only brought your aggressive, violent ways." Her words seethed from her mouth. Frost paused. Five, she was right. He had wanted Halorax dead. Or, at least, a part of him had. It would''ve been possible to aim the spear at Hal''s legs, but no, Frost had aimed for the heart. "You are silent because you know it''s true," Prisma said, placing her hands on her hips and shaking her head. The silence in the room weighed heavier than any words. "Well," Frolick interjected, standing up from his seat. "What is it about women. They see right through just about everything." Frost only rolled his eyes. Frolick said, "I''d say that just about wraps up the maths for the day. Thank you, Prisma, for your kind instructions. I''ll leave you two to sort out these, um, final mathematical puzzles." Frolick awkwardly stood up and began to tiptoe out of the room while Frost and Prisma stared each other down. He bent over and whispered to Frost. "You certainly do have a way with the ladies." As Frolick reached out to open the door, it flung open, slamming against the wall. "What in the Five?" Frolick said, wide-eyed. Alex stood at the door, breathing loudly. His face was beet red. "What''s going on?" Frolick asked. Prisma and Frost jerked their heads. "There''s been an announcement," Alex said. "The king''s niece, a student here at Everwinter." He breathed. "Alta?" Prisma said aloud. "What happened?" "Hey," Frolick. "I know her." He recognized the name from the frost mage girl he''d met in the Valley of Sundered Rock. "She''s dead," Alex said. Chapter 44: Kingkiller Halorax concentrated on the small glass of water. It was set atop a wooden table lit by flickering candlelight. The water quivered ever-so-slightly. At the center of the cup, the water rose up into a half-inch spire and then collapsed, sending ripples spiraling out to the edge. Useless. He couldn''t frost form. His powers were gone. At least any realistic use of them. Barely able to tug on water, Halorax could not use his powers. But that wasn''t the same as frost forming. Not nearly the same. Hal and Glom were inside the Woolly Rhino Inn, waiting for warm stew to be served. The wall-mounted head of a Woolly Rhino stared at them from across the room. The chatter of patrons filled the small restaurant on the first floor of the building. The water had gone completely still. Not even a shimmer now, let alone frost stars. What had happened to him? Whatever it was that foreign scum had done, it had ruined Halorax. All because of Quartus, he was sure. Of course, he had no hard evidence that Quartus was behind any of this, but it had to be true. The enmity between the Strongforge family and the throne had never been worse than now. But to send an assassin? For that, Quartus would pay. Halorax slammed his left fist onto the table and grunted. The water splashed over the side of the cup, pooling around its base. "That grimdark Quartus. He''s done me in. And now my powers are gone. I can barely tug let alone pull. "You''ll get it," Glom said consolingly. "It''ll just take time to recover. You''ve been through a traumatic experience. That''s all." "I can''t even get it to frost over. Five, what has become of me?" Running his fingers through his hair in angst, he closed his eyes, wrinkles forming along his cheeks. "You two order the stew?" a waitress said. She was short, rather plump, and wore a brown apron. "Yes, we did," Glomulus said, rubbing his hands together greedily. "Thank you." "I''m Garika," the waitress said, lowering the steaming hot stew. "You two from Everwinter?" "Yes, we are," Glom said, smiling, not taking his eyes off the food. "Ouch." Hal kicked him under the table. They weren''t supposed to give away who they were or where they were from. "Don''t worry," Garika said, catching on. "I won''t tell. You look about the same age as another pair of young men who were here not long ago."A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. "Last two?" Hal said. "Sure," Garika said. "Foreigners that had an audience with the king." Halorax balled his single hand into a fist and furrowing his brows. "The king?" Glomulus asked, diverting the topic away from Frost and Frolick. Best not to let Halorax get too riled up and make a scene. "Yes," Garika said. "Heard they saved his life. Speaking of whom, I think the king''s giving a royal address tomorrow, from the palace. " "Really?" Glom asked. "About what?" "Beats me," Garika said, twiddling her dark hair. "Probably something to do with the Flintlock Army I reckon. Or could be about the death of the king''s niece. Or the Sylax child." Halorax jerked his head. King''s niece? Sylax child? That was news to him. "What of the child?" "Oh," Garika said. "All rumors. No one''s supposed to know, but we hear everything in the pub. Everyone spills their guts after a few pints of mead. Probably shouldn''t have said anything." "What of it?" Hal said, clenching his hand into a fist. "Tell us!" Garika''s face went flush, and she took a step back. A sense of alarm fell over her face. "Don''t mind him," Glomulus said, warmly. "He''s just had a hard day. What he means is, we can make it worth your while." Glom pulled two hefty coins from his pocket and slid them across the table toward Garika. The waitress'' eyes lit up. "A month''s wage?" Her hand made for the coin, but Glom covered it up. "You were saying?" Glomulus said, winking. "Well," Garika said. "Heard a few of the guards say somethin'' about a Sylax child brought in with Quartus, by the two foreigners. Same ones that were here a few weeks back and saved the king. Child is being kept in royal care. That''s all I know." Glom released the coins and smiled. "Thank you." "Frost," Halorax said, clenching his teeth. "Why, yes," Garika said. The waitress tilted her head. "You know him? Quite famous now, I suppose." Halorax narrowed his eyes, looking down at the soup. He didn''t make eye contact. "Don''t mind him," Glomulus said. He plopped another, ruddier coin down on the table. "For our meal. And a little extra for the lovely lady." Garika smiled and flitted her eyelid. She pocketed the coin, nodding gratefully before walking off. "Last thing I need," Halorax said. "Is to be reminded of him." Glomulus spooned the hot stew and slurped it into his throat. It was delicious¡ª tasted practically like his mother''s home cooking. "Try the soup," he said. "You''ll feel better." Hal wasn''t thinking about the soup. If a child had been brought in, then it would challenge his right as Quintus. A Sylax survivor? Could it be? He growled under his breath. Not that it mattered, he supposed. Without his frost powers, what good would he be as a king anyway. "You hear what she said, yes?" Glom said. "The child," Hal said. "No," Glom said. "Not that. About the king''s speech. Scheduled for tomorrow." Halorax tilted his head, and his eyes widened. "You thinking what I''m thinking?" Glomulus said. "I still can''t believe we''re doing this." "I''m doing this, Glom," Halorax said. "This one''s on me. You take care of yourself, in case I don''t make it out. You''ve been a loyal friend, and you''ve got a bright future ahead of you." "Thanks," Glom said. "I think." "Tomorrow then," Halorax said. "Tomorrow, I kill the king." End of Book 1