Page 2 of Frostforge, Passage Six
Roran stood tall at the wheel, his posture shifting subtly.Gone was the careful, measured stance of a Frostforge graduate.In its place was something more fluid, more primal—the bearing of someone born to the sea and storm.With a subtle gesture, he summoned a gust of wind that adjusted their sails, a deliberate display of his Warden abilities.
The scout ship pulled alongside, close enough that Thalia could hear the creak of its rigging.A tall figure stood at its rail—a man with skin darkened by sun and creased by salt, his hair braided tight against his scalp in one of the Warden fashions.Black metal gleamed at his throat and wrists.
"Wanderer," he called in accented continental speech."Which waters claim you?"
Roran answered in a strange, lilting language that Thalia only partly understood—a pidgin of Warden tongue and continental speech.She recognized words for "north" and "capture," piecing together that Roran was explaining their ship as a prize taken from continental waters.
The Warden leader studied Roran intently, his gaze lingering on Roran's face in a way that made Thalia's hand inch toward her blade.She remembered the mage from their last battle at Frostforge, how he'd called Roran by another name—Rorik Stormchild.If these Wardens recognized him as the son of Peregrin and Yvaine Stormchild, their cover would be shattered.
But no recognition flared in the Warden's eyes.Instead, he barked a question, gesturing toward their vessel with obvious skepticism.
Roran answered smoothly, his hands moving in subtle patterns that stirred the air around him.As he spoke, he casually flicked his fingers toward a line that had come loose, and the rope snaked back into place without anyone touching it.The display of storm magic—so natural it seemed almost unconscious—had its intended effect.The tension in the Warden's posture eased slightly.
Thalia caught fragments of Roran's explanation, bits and pieces of the pidgin that were borrowed from the continental tongue: "...northern waters...""...joining fleet...""...Verdant Port..."
The Warden leader exchanged glances with his companions, then asked another question, this one sharper, more demanding.Thalia strained to understand, catching only "...commander..."and "...authorization..."
Roran's response was quick and confident.He gestured broadly north, in the direction they'd come, and mentioned a name that Thalia didn't recognize.Whatever he said, it seemed to satisfy the patrol leader, who nodded curtly.
The exchange continued for several more minutes, with Roran answering questions about conditions in the north and offering details about their supposed capture of the schooner.Thalia marveled at his command of the Warden language, far beyond the rudimentary phrases taught at Frostforge in Calloway’s classes.She’d never heard him speak the tongue of the archipelago, had never known he was so proficient in it.Like his storm magic, this too must have been a part of his heritage that he'd kept hidden.
Finally, the Warden leader gave a signal to his crew.The scout ship's sails filled with wind, and it began to pull away, continuing on its patrol route northward.No boarding party, no inspection.
Thalia waited until the vessel had disappeared back into the mist before descending to the deck.Roran's shoulders sagged slightly, the confident posture giving way to exhaustion.
"That was too close," he murmured, running a hand through his wind-tousled hair.
"What did you tell them?"Thalia asked, keeping her voice low in case the mist carried sound back to the departing patrol.
"That we captured this ship from a skirmish off the coast of the Reaches and were ordered to bring it to join the fleet at Verdant Port."He grimaced."I claimed we were serving under Commander Thrakkar—a name I remember my father mentioning when I was small."
"And they believed you?"
Roran nodded toward the hatch."Go tell Kaine and Ashe we're clear for now.They must be ready to fight at a moment's notice."
As Thalia moved toward the hatch, Roran caught her arm."Thalia," he said, his voice softening."What I told the patrol—about Verdant Port being where the fleet is gathering—it's true.The mist ahead is thick with Warden magic.There must be dozens of ships anchored there."
Thalia's breath caught."What does that mean for the city?For the people still there?"
Roran's expression was grim."Nothing good.The Isle Wardens don't tend to gather in force like this."
Thalia thought of her mother's small herb shop near the docks, of her sister Mari, now seventeen.Her hands closed into fists.
"We'll find them," Roran said, as if reading her thoughts."Whatever it takes."
Thalia nodded, trying to force herself to believe Roran’s words.She had sacrificed too much to lose her family now, not just during her time at Frostforge but also recently; when — if — she returned to the academy, she would be facing court martial for her second abandonment of her post.
She descended the ladder into the dimly lit belly of the ship.Kaine looked up from his workbench, his pale features tense, a half-finished modification to one of their glacenite blades lying before him.Ashe paced nearby, her red-streaked black hair catching the lamplight as she moved.
"We passed the patrol," Thalia reported."But there are more ahead.Many more."
Relief flickered across Kaine's face, quickly replaced by determination."Then we'd better make sure these work perfectly," he said, nodding toward the weapons.
Thalia climbed back to the deck, where Roran had already adjusted their course, guiding them deeper into Warden-controlled waters.The mist thickened around them, clinging to the rigging like spectral fingers.
Their ruse had worked once, but Thalia knew each encounter would bring fresh danger.One slip, one misunderstood phrase, one suspicious guard, and they would be exposed.
CHAPTER TWO
