CHAPTER TWO #2
The Warden was fast, but Thalia was faster. Her ice-glacenite blade found its mark, drawing a hiss of pain from her opponent. The woman retreated several steps, nursing the wound on her upper arm.
Thalia gritted her teeth against the whispers that echoed in her ears, the beginnings of the glacenite-induced hallucinations. The longer she wielded this weapon, the more intense the sounds and visions would become. She needed to end this fight before the illusions overwhelmed her.
Across the deck, Ashe had already dropped two Wardens with well-placed crossbow bolts and was now engaged in close combat with a third, her movements a blur of precise strikes and counters. More enemies swung across on ropes, landing on the deck with practiced ease.
The schooner's deck became a chaotic battlefield, the air filled with the clash of metal, the grunts of exertion, and the occasional cry of pain.
Thalia fought with cold precision, each movement economical, each strike purposeful.
But for every Warden she disabled, another seemed to take their place.
Something about their desperation struck her as odd. These soldiers fought with grim determination, as though driven by fear rather than bloodlust. They defended the blockade with the fervor of those protecting something precious rather than simply denying passage to an enemy.
Before she could ponder this further, a massive Warden with shoulders like boulders charged toward her, swinging a hooked blade that could disembowel her with a single strike.
Thalia sidestepped, letting his momentum carry him past, then struck at the back of his knee.
He stumbled but didn't fall, whirling with surprising agility for someone so large.
From the corner of her eye, Thalia saw Kaine disappear down the hatch leading to the hold.
Moments later, a deep, resonant boom shook the ship as one of the glacenite cannons fired.
The sound was unlike anything she'd heard before—not the sharp crack of black powder, but a deep, reverberating thunder that seemed to freeze the air itself.
The shot struck the hull of the nearest Warden ship, just at the waterline.
Upon impact, frost spread rapidly across the dark wood, crackling as it expanded.
The magical ice crept up the side of the vessel like a living thing, encasing ropes, freezing pulleys, immobilizing the mechanisms of the harpoon launchers.
The Wardens faltered, many staring in shock at the inexorable spread of the magical frost. Thalia took advantage of her opponent's momentary distraction, driving her sword into the gap between his chest plate and shoulder guard. He fell with a grunt, clutching at the wound.
Another boom from below, and a second glacenite shot streaked toward the warship directly in their path.
This one struck higher, hitting the base of the mainmast. Frost engulfed the timber, making it brittle.
When the next wave rocked the ship, the mast cracked with a sound like breaking bones, listing dangerously to one side.
Roran executed a sharp turn, steering the schooner through the widening gap with uncanny precision. Wind filled their sails—wind that moved against the natural currents, bending to Roran's will. The ship leapt forward, water foaming at its bow.
As they passed between the damaged Warden vessels, Thalia allowed herself a moment of hope. They might actually make it through.
Then she saw the third warship swinging into position, boarding hooks already flying toward them. These landed with metallic clangs, their barbs digging into the schooner's wooden rails.
Ashe moved to intercept, her crossbow raised again. She fired with methodical precision, picking off Wardens before they could slide down the ropes attached to the hooks. One, two, three fell into the churning waters below.
But they were too many.
Another group of Wardens rappelled onto the starboard side of the schooner’s deck, and Thalia found herself fighting three at once, her blade a blur as she parried and struck, retreated and lunged.
A slash opened her sleeve, drawing blood from her forearm.
She ignored the sting just as she ignored the voices screaming in her head, the pain pounding at her temples from use of the glacenite blade. She needed to focus on survival.
Above, the sky darkened. Thalia risked a glance upward to see storm clouds gathering with unnatural speed.
Lightning flickered within them, responding to Roran's call.
His arms were raised, lightning crackling along his exposed skin like living tattoos.
With a shout, he brought his hands down in a violent gesture.
A bolt of lightning split the sky, striking the mast of the fourth Warden ship with devastating accuracy. Wood splintered, and flames erupted from the impact point. Wardens scattered, some diving overboard to escape the fire that now raced along their rigging.
But Roran's attack had not gone unanswered. From the deck of the third warship, a figure in elaborate armor raised a staff adorned with shells and bones. Lightning crackled around it, then shot toward the schooner in a jagged arc.
Roran deflected the bolt, sending it harmlessly into the sea. Another followed, and another. He blocked each attack, but Thalia could see the strain on his face, the tremor in his hands. Storm magic against storm magic—he was facing another practitioner of his blood-born art.
Kaine emerged from below decks again, his face smudged with soot but his eyes bright with battle-fever.
He aimed the portable glacenite launcher he'd designed—smaller than the cannons below but no less deadly.
The weapon discharged with a hiss rather than a boom, sending a concentrated bolt of frost-magic toward the warship bearing the enemy storm mage.
The bolt struck true, exploding in a shower of glacenite shot and cryomantic ice that engulfed the Warden's lower deck. The enemy storm mage faltered, distracted by the sudden attack on their vessel. It was the opening Roran needed.
He channeled his power once more, summoning a gust of wind so powerful it heeled the enemy ship over onto its side, exposing the vulnerable bottom of its hull.
Kaine fired again, this time aiming for the exposed underside.
The frost magic spread rapidly, freezing a section of the hull so thoroughly that the wood cracked under the sudden stress.
For a moment, it seemed they had turned the tide. The blockade was broken, the path to Verdant Port open before them.
Then a blinding flash lit the sky as a bolt of lightning slipped past Roran's defenses. It struck the schooner's hull at the waterline, wood exploding outward from the impact point. The ship lurched violently, throwing Thalia against the railing.
"We're taking on water!" Kaine shouted, already moving toward the hatch. "Hull breach below!"
Thalia dispatched her current opponent with a final thrust, then raced after Kaine. She practically flew down the ladder into the hold, where water was already ankle-deep and rising fast. The breach was a jagged hole nearly two feet across, water gushing in with each roll of the ship.
She fumbled for her frost gloves, cursing as she struggled to pull them on with fingers slick with sweat and blood. The specialized gauntlets would protect her hands from the cold of her own magic—a lesson painfully learned during her first attempts at cryomancy at Frostforge.
Planting her feet wide to maintain balance on the tilting deck, Thalia raised her hands toward the breach. She drew a deep breath, reaching for the cold energy that lay dormant within her. It came reluctantly, as it always did, a trickle rather than the torrent she needed.
"Come on," she muttered, forcing her will upon the reluctant magic. Ice began to form around the edges of the breach, creeping inward like crystalline fingers. But it was too slow, too fragile. Water still poured in, melting her ice almost as quickly as she could form it.
Above, she felt the ship lurch again, changing course abruptly. The sounds of battle grew distant, suggesting they were retreating from the engagement. It was the right call—they couldn't win this fight—but retreat meant failure. It meant leaving her family in Warden's hands for who knew how long.
The thought sent a spike of desperation through her, and with it, a sudden surge of power. Ice spread more rapidly now, sealing a quarter of the breach, then half. But water still poured in, the pressure increasing as the ship settled lower in the water.
Footsteps sounded on the ladder behind her. Thalia didn't turn, couldn't spare the concentration.
"Hold it steady," Roran's voice came from just behind her shoulder. Then he was beside her, his own hands raised, frost gloves already in place.
Together, they channeled their power into the breach. Roran's cryomancy was stronger than hers, more precise. Where her ice was opaque and brittle, his was clear and resilient. Layer by layer, they sealed the hole, reinforcing each section until finally, the flow of water stopped completely.
Thalia lowered her hands, suddenly aware of how much energy the effort had cost her. Her limbs felt heavy, her head light. She leaned against a supporting beam, breathing hard. Inches of water lapped harmlessly at her ankles.
"What happened?" she asked, gesturing toward the deck above. "Did we make it through?"
Roran shook his head, droplets of water flying from his hair. "I was wrong," he admitted, the words clearly difficult for him. "We can't break that blockade—not directly. There are too many of them, and at least two storm mages among their ranks. We're retreating to reassess."
Thalia closed her eyes briefly, disappointment a bitter taste in her mouth. "So we've failed."
"We've survived," Roran corrected, his tone gentler than she'd expected. "And we've learned something valuable—holding Verdant Port is crucial for the Wardens. It’s worth committing four warships and multiple storm mages to defend."