XXVI

  Freshly Arisen

  Rider and some guards were interviewing the women, asking what had happened and how they had ended up with the bandit caravan.

  Malakai was standing in the centre of what had been a battlefield—if recent events could pass for a battle, at least. He strode towards one of the pillars which glistened in the moonlight. The ice was like a piece of armour that protected the bandit from the elements. Even their reflection was muted as you had to lean close to see who was encased within. Malakai did so. An untended individual, who must’ve spent longer out in the wilderness than near civilisation. The muscles in the bandit’s face were loose. He looked like a man at peace, one who had accepted the outcome of his life a long time ago. Malakai’s finger travelled to touch the frozen exterior—

  ‘Don’t touch it.’

  He started and jumped back. Wraith was standing behind him. No, not Wraith.

  ‘Warden!’ Malakai saluted.

  The Warden nodded, her hood bouncing up and down, and she glanced at the statues. ‘Simple work, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ Malakai agreed. ‘Maybe too simple...’

  Within the shadow of the hood, the Warden’s lips curved. ‘Really? Would you have preferred a climactic battle to save the damsels in distress?’

  A snort of laughter from one of the guards that was quickly disguised as a cough.

  ‘Not at all!’ Malakai said. ‘It’s just…I don’t know.’

  What was he even trying to say?

  ‘It was like watching a massacre?’ the Warden said after a moment. ‘Leaves a bad taste in the mouth, no matter who it happens to.’

  ‘Yes, something like that.’

  She tapped him on the shoulder. ‘If it soothes your spirit, they’re not dead. Not yet anyway.’

  It did. Malakai took a moment to regain his composure, then spoke. ‘There are food supplies in the caravans.’ He pointed to the side.

  The Warden followed his finger to the four carts. ‘That cannot be all of it.’

  ‘It isn’t,’ Malakai confirmed. ‘We suspect that batch was meant for the bandits themselves.’

  An undead hand went to caress the Warden’s cheeks. ‘Which means they had planned a prolonged stay until…’

  ‘Whatever attacked,’ Malakai finished.

  The Warden hummed. ‘Do the women know the identity of our mystery attacker?’

  ‘They don’t.’ Rider walked up from their rear and saluted. ‘The attack happened late at night. The men who went to check on the noise didn’t make it back, and when morning came, only the dead were left.’

  ‘So these bandits won’t know either,’ the Warden said.

  ‘Likely not, Warden,’ Rider said.

  ‘They could know where the other supplies are,’ Malakai offered.

  ‘That they could,’ the Warden agreed. She stretched out her arm towards the frozen bandit in front of Malakai. The frost melted to below the neck. ‘Wait a moment,’ she said.

  Perhaps a minute had passed when the bandit’s eyelids began to tremble. Another went by, and then the man was staring straight ahead of him, his lips moving up and down in rapid succession.

  ‘Cold…’ he mumbled, voice cracking.

  The Warden stepped up and knelt to eye-level. ‘You visited Frosthollow with enough food for dozens. Where did you get the supplies?’

  ‘Cold…’ he mumbled again. Though his eyes were open, his gaze didn’t turn or rove around.

  The Warden motioned Malakai forwards. He brought the torch closer to the man’s face, and some shine returned to his cheeks, which were nearly blue. The Warden allowed some seconds to pass, then ordered Malakai to step back. The loss of heat worsened the bandit’s reaction so much that Malakai felt sorry for him.

  ‘We’ll make you feel warm after you answer my question,’ she said. ‘I promise.’

  Her tone was cold. A cold that wasn’t a result of the body she was inhabiting. A cold that was unlike the harsh tone she normally used. Malakai angled his torch, making the light illuminate the Warden’s form. He exhaled. He had nothing but respect for his liege, and had never allowed others to badmouth her…but he’d heard rumours, before the orcs ever attacked, when she had just taken over the station of Warden from her father. “A cold, pragmatic witch,” they called her. He’d never seen it. Perhaps because he barely interacted with her when she was in the estate. But even after the attacks, when he saw her daily, he didn’t think the whispers justified. Her tone of voice was cold, but she didn’t lack empathy and cared about the people in her own way—in a way most rulers did not. But here and now, as she ordered him to move the torch closer and further away without a moment of pause, he saw different.

  A great leader knows when to be harsh, he heard an old man’s voice say in his head. Something he had never learned.

  Malakai looked away from his liege and lowered his torch.

  ‘That’s enough,’ the Warden said. ‘You’ve been a great help.’ A wave of the hand, and the frost crawled up the man’s face despite his pleas.

  ‘I’ll communicate what we’ve learned to the others—’ the Warden said as she turned away from the bandit, only to stop after seeing Malakai. ‘Are you alright?’

  ‘Ah—yes. Sorry, I’m fine, Warden. Just lost myself in thought.’

  She held his gaze. ‘Did you catch what he said?’

  And Malakai was forced to admit he hadn’t to his embarrassment. So, the Warden gave him the short version: the caravan had been on its way to a meeting point. They had no business showing up there now, but due to recent events and losing many members, they would return home early.

  ‘From the meeting site they would travel towards Giantswood,’ the Warden said and paused to study Malakai’s face. ‘Did you get it this time?’

  ‘Yes, Warden!’

  ‘Good,’ she said. She glanced to the side, towards the women. ‘…getting them to Frostmouth would take too long, neither can we take them with us on the mission or leave them to fend for themselves.’

  The pressing issue of innocent lives brought Malakai fully back into the moment. ‘Can we recall Gregory’s party? How far are they?’

  ‘A day or two from here,’ the Warden said. ‘There’s one more village on their list, which is in the direction of Giantswood.’ She thought for a moment and surveyed the frozen pillars in the clearing. ‘Recalling them is possible, but there may be a better solution.’

  Malakai was all ears.

  Night time was almost upon the Duchy.

  Miranda returned to her company with two bottles in her gloved hands and approached the guards at the front, who were leisurely playing a game of cards and not even wearing their armour or weapons.

  They’re a lost cause, Miranda thought.

  ‘I’ve got good news,’ she called.

  ‘Oh? The witch finally caved in?’ One of the guards went.

  ‘About damned time,’ another said. ‘I don’t want to stay in this shit hole another day.’

  ‘You and me both,’ Miranda said. The bottle slammed down in the centre of the table.

  One of the guards peered at the label and his eyes bulged. ‘Oi, oi! Eisveil? That’s nobility shit! You sure?!’

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Miranda forced her lips to curve upwards. ‘A thank you gift for a job well done.’ She specifically didn’t mention from who.

  Greedy hands reached for the bottle of Eisveil—and pulled back.

  ‘Fack Ruelle, that’s cold!’ the guard screamed. He turned his hand around and glared at the bottle. ‘That safe to drink?’

  ‘Let it warm up a little if you’re shy,’ Miranda said. ‘Just make sure everyone has at least one glass.’

  She walked further into the camp and gave the others the same spiel. Her heart clenched tighter with every guard she convinced but she convinced them all.

  Gods curse her, but she wasn’t dying here.

  The early morning was the most quiet moment of the day, and thus the one where I had the most time to cultivate. I was sitting in the fog-shrouded courtyard of the castle, my tome on frost magic beside me.

  Sepharin K. Vrost =

  {

  Skills =

  [Lesser Frost Necromancy, Minor Frost Manipulation, Minor Miasma Control,

  Minor Necromancy, Frostmancy]

  Racials =

  [Icy Veins, Goliath, Overbearing, Callous, Vorst]

  Miasma =

  986 /1189

  Skill Points =

  3

  Skills Menu=

  [

  [Minor Frost Necromancy] (5 points)

  [Frost Manipulation] (5 points)

  [Necromancy] (5 points)

  [Greater Frostmancy] (10 points)

  [Miasma Control] (5 points)

  ]

  }

  My mana had increased since the last time I checked my status screen, which was a given, but I had also spent some of my skill points:

  [Lesser Frost Manipulation] -> [Minor Frost Manipulation] (2 sp)

  [Minor Frostmancy] -> [Frostmancy] (5 sp)

  I had chosen to level my ice-based abilities for a few reasons, but chief amongst them was because of a suspicion I had.

  My palms extended, and the frigid air of the Duchy expanded my lungs to their full capacity. The cold built within me, near freezing temperatures. I kept going. Kept gathering and building. Outside me, the morning fog trembled and danced around me as if around a bonfire.

  I exhaled, and my breath exited as the breath of a dragon, freezing whatever life it touched.

  Leah had once commented that I needed to work on my transmutation. It was a throwaway comment in an even more throwaway moment, yet the truth hidden within contained deep insight.

  The tome once questioned: is magic called into being or summoned from a parallel plane? Transmutation was the answer to that query. When a mage called on magic, they concentrated the inherent elemental nature in the area around them into one location, calling the element into being. Therefore, to work on my transmutation was to work on my ability to shape the elements already present outside my body. It was a principle I wasn’t familiar with, for I had never had a reason to shape my surroundings—the well of power within me had been more than enough to fuel all my spells.

  I got my breathing under control. My ability to transmutate frost had doubled overnight, something that wasn’t a result of my training, though I had made advances.

  The system, it turned out, did have a use. It cranked up whatever abilities I had and made them stronger. The reason I hadn’t noticed it till now was because my command over death was unmatched, and I didn’t need a system to handhold me. But my frost magic, for how little I knew of it after just arriving in this world, was powerful. Creating frozen cores wasn’t a part of my death magic, yet I was capable of it from the first day. And even though I was a novice frost mage, I had no trouble connecting with frost and shaping it. These were all benefits of the system.

  So, if my logic was correct, the best path forward for me now was to disregard my necromancy school and focus solely on frost…

  Or perhaps it wasn’t. I wasn’t certain what the system could offer me down the line. Time would tell.

  I exited my thoughts as I sensed someone approach. My squire traversed the field and knelt in front of me.

  My brow raised. I felt for our connection and listened—ah. I had promised him, hadn’t I?

  ‘You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.’ I stood and carried my tome under my arm. ‘Let’s visit the stables,’ I said, and we trod off.

  The stable master was one of the earliest risers of the castle, so he was already inside when I entered. He knew what I was here for (I asked Decim to inform him the evening before) and led me and my squire to a horse with a dark chestnut coat. The beast was lying down, its breathing laboured and eyes closed.

  ‘Pigeon fever,’ the stable master, a middle-aged man with a crooked back, said. ‘Won’t make it through the month.’

  ‘It’ll do,’ I said. ‘You have my thanks.’

  He took the cue to leave.

  My squire didn’t waste time. He knelt and rubbed a bony hand over the horse’s coat, then his power flashed.

  I watched as the horse’s body went cold, its muscles coming to a complete still. Hoh, I thought. The hooves lost their dark touch and turned icy in colour. The frost crawled up the legs and touched part of the flank, where it merged with the rest of the coat. The horse rose to its feet, no longer limited by the sickness that had struck it in life. Neighing, frost riding its breath, the steed lowered its head and snuggled against its rider’s palm. An inseparable bond shaped between the two.

  Skeletal Steed, I hummed. Interesting. I expected he would solely raise it, but the horse itself had changed too. Not only that, but the process he used for raising it was the same one I applied to corpses, meaning the squire could dismiss and call on his mount at any moment. The bond also allowed them to share in each other’s power, making them stronger individually.

  This was a level of skill expression I expected of a death knight, not a squire, though a knight’s steed would be even grander in nature.

  Because squires worked better in groups, I was already planning on creating more, but Sepharin’s squires being this powerful had doubled the incentive.

  It was at that moment that two dozen presences entered the castle premises.

  I grinned. Time to receive my new undead.

  ‘It’s over that hill,’ Leah told Jaeger.

  She’d seen a concerning sight with her scrying spell but wanted to make sure with her own eyes before judging.

  With their target in sight, Varrick didn’t see the need to lead their group, and he fell back to Leah’s side. ‘I didn’t know you were a mage.’

  ‘Because I didn’t tell you,’ she said, and she was content with dropping the conversation there.

  Until Varrick said: ‘My sister is a mage too.’

  Leah paused and fought the urge to correct his terminology. ‘She’s quite formidable.’ She kept her tone even.

  The praise made the brother light up in his sister’s stead. ‘Father and Mother call her: “The Black Pearl of Winterforge”.’

  ‘Black Pearl?’

  ‘The quarry,’ he said. ‘Ebon, the highest quality stone in the quarry, is obsidian in colour.’

  For a moment, the moniker brought up an old memory, that of a young girl calling Leah by a childhood nickname. She pushed the escaped thought back down where it belonged. ‘I take it she specialises in ice magic? Did she have a tutor?’

  ‘A crone by the name of Circe,’ he said, his lips curving. ‘I used to sneak into her home as a child and steal whatever equipment I could find.’

  She frowned. ‘Why would you steal equipment?’

  He huffed. ‘Thought I could become a mage too if I just practised.’

  Again, a useless memory jumped at Leah. ‘Wouldn’t that be fair,’ she said.

  ‘Sorry?’

  She shook her head and shoved the memory away. Still, her tongue felt looser now. ‘Can’t say I’ve heard of a sorcerer named Circe.’

  ‘She vanished around ten years ago,’ he said, ‘that’s why.’

  Leah doubted it. Not every mage or sorcerer was a known commodity, but ones that could mentor someone like Nerya were. The community was too tight knit.

  ‘Your mentor do that too?’ Varrick said.

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Vanish,’ he clarified.

  She chuckled. ‘I wish. The old fart has been sitting in his tower for who knows how long.’

  ‘A tower…’ Varrick said, seeing her in another light. ‘He must be a high profile mage.’

  ‘As high as you can get,’ she said. She nodded to their front. They were at the hill.

  Their party crested the top and used their vantage to scout the scene ahead of them. The white pelts of multiple canine beasts were spread amongst the snow. They hadn’t moved at all from the last time she saw them.

  ‘Is that a Frostfang pack?’ Jaeger said, frowning. ‘This far down?’

  That’s what it looked like to Leah in her spell too.

  ‘They are dead,’ she said.

  ‘Or sleeping,’ Varrick commented. His eyes roved around. ‘The alpha isn’t here.’

  ‘Let’s not figure out where it is,’ Jaeger said. ‘Our party wouldn’t lose but the noise could attract unwanted attention.’ Jaeger turned to Leah. ‘You need to get closer?’

  She did. So, they descended the hill while remaining as quiet as possible. It became obvious the closer they neared that the wolf pack was indeed deceased. The cold had preserved them some, but the stench was enough to out their state.

  There was still no sign of the alpha, so Leah freely strode up to one of the corpses and used the butt of her staff to peel open the eyes of the beast. She expected the pus and faded pupils, but not the red lines on the sclera. She checked the eyes of the others. All of them had the same marks.

  ‘Are there poisonous species on the mountain?’ Leah said.

  ‘Some,’ Varrick answered. ‘But they aren’t strong enough to kill an entire pack. Neither are they on the pack’s menu.’

  That’s what she thought. But if it wasn’t poison, what was it? Another predator? She couldn’t think of a single one that could do this to a Frostfang pack, nor did Frostfang wolves have any natural enemies. Moreover, the bodies were untouched.

  Leah paused her thinking and placed the gem of her staff against one of the wolves. The tip ran over the length of the body, inspecting what was beneath…

  Nothing. Whatever agent had done the killing had already dissolved.

  A walking, towering, and dead figure approached from behind. ‘That’s the third time this week,’ Durak said.

  Leah turned to the woman currently at the top of her hate-list. ‘Third time for?’

  Sepharin looked down at the corpses. ‘That nature subverted expectations.’

  Leah’s brow raised. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  The Warden remained silent. She crouched at the side of a wolf, touched their flank and closed her eyes.

  Leah scoffed. What would the woman see where she herself had seen nothing?

  ‘They’re tainted,’ came the heavy voice of the undead captain.

  ‘Tainted, Warden?’ Jaeger said.

  Varrick was shuffling in place, not sure how to act around the orc that was actually The Warden.

  Leah strode towards the wolf Sepharin was scanning. It was one she hadn’t inspected, so perhaps that’s why she hadn’t noticed anything…but even when she searched twice as hard, she remained blind.

  ‘…I don’t see it,’ she got out through her teeth.

  The big orc glanced at her, and the face it pulled was one Leah wanted to punch.

  ‘You’re searching for an agent,’ Sepharin said. ‘Look for the result instead.’

  And to her consternation, when Leah did as told, she indeed noticed something terribly amiss. ‘Their organs...’

  All of them except the heart had shrivelled up into husks. But Leah could only think of a single entity whose powers had that as its signature.

  ‘What’s wrong with them?’ Jaeger said.

  Leah was too stunned to answer, so Sepharin did so in her stead. ‘Jaeger, you said your men have experience dealing with demons?’

  ‘They do.’ His face darkened. ‘But we’re on the other side of the Wall, Warden. Surely you aren’t saying what I think you are.’

  A gust of cold burst forth from the Warden’s palm. Sepharin rose to her full height, and the undead wolf rose with her. ‘Stay vigilant. I want every inch of this mountain scoured.’

  ‘Ma’am!’ the frostguards echoed.

  Leah didn’t join them, still stuck on the demons being on this side of the wall…she thought back to her last conversation with Xun. Things that had seemed ridiculous then seemed less so now.

  She had to prepare.