CHAPTER TWENTY THREE #2
And she knew, with a certainty that made her cheeks burn despite the cold, that part of their antagonism stemmed from her—from the knowledge that they both cared for her, perhaps even loved her, and neither could claim her heart completely.
"Stop," she said, holding up her hands. Neither man seemed to hear her.
"If they wanted it intact, they wouldn't bring siege engines," Kaine was saying, his voice rising with frustration.
"But why would they want it destroyed? It’s more strategic to occupy the keep," Roran fired back.
"STOP!" Thalia's shout echoed across the fjord, startling both men into silence. "Just—stop. Please." She drew a deep breath, steadying herself. "Speak plainly. When will they be here?"
Roran and Kaine exchanged another glance, and this time, their agreement was palpable.
"Days," Kaine said quietly. "Three, maybe four at most."
"If the weather holds," Roran added. "A natural storm could speed them up significantly."
Thalia's mind raced, calculating supplies, defenses, and evacuation routes. "We need to report this to Wolfe. Immediately."
"Agreed," Roran said, surprising her with his swift concurrence. "She needs to understand the gravity of what's coming. We should evacuate the keep—bring the students and refugees further inland, away from the coast."
Kaine shook his head sharply. "That's suicide. The terrain beyond Frostforge is unforgiving. How many would die in the attempt? The elderly? The children? The ill and injured? We'd be leading them to their deaths."
"And what death would you prefer for them?" Roran demanded. "By Warden blade? By fire? By electrocution?"
"We can hold the keep," Kaine insisted, his fist clenching at his side. "We've done it before."
"Not against a force like this," Roran countered.
"Not against weapons that turn our greatest defense to dust. That black metal will cut through our ice-steel like it's nothing, and my storm magic won’t be able to hold back more than a fraction of that fleet.
Our defenses will crumble in hours, not days. "
The pendant pulsed against Thalia's chest, its rhythm matching her quickening heartbeat. Before either man could continue their argument, she drew her glacenite sword, the blade catching the weak winter sunlight with a pearlescent gleam.
"Not if we’re armed with these," she said, holding the weapon between them.
Kaine's eyes widened, his argument forgotten as he stared at the blade. "You did it," he breathed, reaching out as if to touch it, then stopping just short. "You actually did it. The ore from the Founders' chamber—"
"Glacenite," Thalia supplied. "That's what I've named it. We found it in the mines. Senna and I have been forging these weapons day and night. We have dozens now."
Roran eyed the blade warily. "And they work? Against the black metal?"
"Yes." Thalia nodded. "The alloy resists the disintegration effect. We've tested it extensively."
"That's..." Kaine seemed at a loss for words, his expression a mix of awe and fierce pride. "Thalia, that's incredible. You've given us a fighting chance."
She hesitated, not wanting to dampen his sudden hope. "There's a cost," she admitted. "The glacenite affects the mind. It causes visions and hallucinations. Fear, dread, exhaustion. It can set in immediately, and the longer you wield it, the worse it gets."
"But it works," Kaine pressed. "Against the Wardens' weapons, it holds."
"It works," Thalia confirmed. "But I don't know if it's enough. Not against the force you're describing."
Roran opened his mouth, likely to argue further for evacuation, but a movement on the ridge above caught Thalia's attention. A small convoy was making its way down toward the dock—three figures mounted on stocky ponies, bundled against the cold, followed by a handful of armed guards.
"Wolfe," Thalia said, recognizing the lead rider's distinctive silhouette. "She must have seen the skiff approaching."
Kaine and Roran followed her gaze, their argument momentarily forgotten in the face of this new development.
"Good," Roran said after a moment. "We need to tell her everything we've seen."
Thalia nodded, sheathing her glacenite blade. "And show her what we've made. Then she can decide the best course of action."
But in her heart, Thalia knew that Kaine was right. Evacuating now, with so many refugees already within their walls and more arriving daily, would be nearly impossible. They would have to hold the keep—to fight with whatever weapons and strategies they could muster.
The pendant's pulse steadied against her chest, a rhythm that now felt less like a heartbeat and more like a countdown. Three days. Maybe four. Time enough to prepare, but not to escape. Not to save everyone.
As Wolfe's convoy wound its way down the mountainside, Thalia reached out, her gloved hands finding Kaine's and Roran's. She squeezed them once, briefly, a silent acknowledgment of their return and of the danger that followed in their wake.
Then she let go, straightening her shoulders as she prepared to face Wolfe and the decision that would seal their fate—to flee or to fight.