Page 115 of Frozen Hearts and Death Magic

Moving from bar to bar in the port city of Seminak, it was easy to use glamour to get humans to talk. The hard part was understanding what they said. River used to think he had a good grasp of Fernian, but that had obviously been before he’d heard anyone speaking the language at a bar—or any real conversation, for that matter. The words got all jumbled together in an incomprehensible mush. For him only, of course, as everyone else understood perfectly these mushed words. Here he was: the clueless foreigner, speaking way too slowly. At least there were more humans from Aluria in that port city. The bizarre part was seeing them and recognizing them as sharing some kind of common ground, when they were enemies.

Still, with his dreadful Fernian or talking to humans from Aluria, River gathered information. It wasn’t hard to get people to talk about stories, myths, rumors. Humans were fascinated by magic, especially in a land like this, where few of them possessed it. Not even royalty had any magic in Fernick.

And that was how he learned about the dragon lords. Now, this was getting really confusing. Apparently indeed there had been real dragons in the past, and by dragons they meant lizard-like gigantic creatures. By past they meant some five hundred years before or so, which was long enough to make it all sound like a myth. Still, it was a piece of information.

The dragon lords were unlikely to be in the south or near the cities. River’s best guess was the mountains. As he got deeper and deeper in the continent, more and more he feared meeting a fae and maybe being exposed. But then he wasn’t an enemy here, except that he’d been using his magic to get food and lodgings, and someone would eventually be mad.

Throughout his travel, he’d been looking at his lapse stones. An idea came to him when he was in a small village near the Gray Mountains. The stones could make a circle. Perhaps a circle like the ones in Aluria, allowing him to go somewhere else. He tested it in the forest, in a quiet place. Setting the stones in a large circle, he watched as animals stepped inside it. If it had been a portal, at least some of them would go through, but none did. Eventually, as a flock of birds fought for the corn he’d thrown there, he clapped his hands to shoo the creatures away.

River trembled, unable to believe what he was seeing; the birds had stopped moving. He reached out his hand and touched one creature, and it started to eat again. Then he clapped, but nothing happened. When he snapped his fingers, the birds went back to normal, unfazed, unharmed. This was amazing. That was the lapse that the stones caused, like a lapse in time, except that the time didn’t really change. If this magic worked in a larger circle, he knew what he’d have to do to get that staff.

That night, he put the stones around the inn and tested them. They worked. Guests and the owner were frozen in time, as if they were statues, and yet they were living, breathing statues. And River now had access to immeasurable power in the magical objects he had in hand.

It turned out that the dragons were not that hard to find. Once River got to the right valley, the villagers knew where they dwelled. It seemed that the magicians didn’t try to hide. What kept them safe was the alleged power they had. If they thought themselves untouchable, that was even better for River.

The Dragon Lair was on top of a steep hill. River placed the lapse stones around it and climbed up, eventually reaching a large marble building. There were no guards by any of the doors, and for a moment he feared the place had been abandoned, but once inside, he saw a group of people around a table. It seemed that they’d been talking. Now they stared at each other, some of them open-mouthed. The security here was crap. He used to think that the security sucked at the Ancient palace, but nothing really compared to this “dragon lair”. Unless a real dragon showed up or something. Well, of course not. The “dragons” had been frozen, and they were just humans with magic. A lot of magic, apparently, but it still didn’t make them dragons. One day he’d need to find one of them awake and argue about semantics. This wasn’t the day, of course.

As he wondered where the staff could be, his eyes noticed that there was something transparent on the wall. Ice. Probably kept cold with magic, since it was summer here. Inside it, there was a metal staff. Great. Right in the entrance hall. Could it be the staff? River approached it. He usually could smell magic, it was an odd smell that was always different from natural scents. Of course, he wouldn’t sense anything encased in that much ice. But it had to be something pretty important to be there. He could pick the ice until he released the artifact, he could wait until it melted, or—he saw a fireplace on a corner.

Now, this was getting ridiculously easy. But perhaps they counted on the three men and four women around that table to protect it. River took a long log that wasn’t deep in the fire, and with it still lit, pressed it against the ice, which melted quickly. River got a handkerchief to take the staff, fearing it could have some protective spell or iron.

Once he wrapped his hands around the magical artifact, cold moved to his arm and then his entire body. Of course, the staff had to be cold, having been there for so long, but this was too much. He dropped the object, which fell on the floor. Ice was forming around him. That had to be a protection spell. Silly River, thinking there would be nothing there. He decided to get the staff and run before the ice encased him, but it was too late. His legs wouldn’t move. Or his torso or arms. When the ice covered his head, he closed his eyes. He was doomed.

* * *

Leah regrettedat once not having stayed back in Umbraar, having wasted her chance. All because she had trusted Venard, trusted that she was about to go home soon, that they could still be allies. That coward. Now he had let his brother come in.

She made an effort to keep her voice steady. “Wrong room?”

Cassius had a disgusting smirk. “Oh, you can’t obey a simple order, can you? You want it with candles lit, want to see it all. I like it.”

“I’m waiting for my husband.”

He snorted. “You think he’s coming? You think he doesn’t know about it?”

“I doubt Lady Celia will approve of this.” Leah hated that woman, but she didn’t think she would stoop that low.

He shrugged. “You think I care? Plus, all they want is a little ironbringer popping out of your cute little belly. You think they’ll check whose child it is?”

Perhaps not. Perhaps all they wanted was Frostlake, and considering how they’d been treating her, they weren’t at all concerned for her wellbeing. Fear. Fear like she had never felt before settled in. For a moment, it was as if she couldn’t see anything, couldn’t feel anything, frozen in place.

A horrific laugh came from his mouth and he advanced towards her.

“Help!” she yelled. “Help!” It wasn’t brilliant, but was what she came up with.

“I like it.” His smirk was a horrific grimace. “Yell some more.”

There was no time to reach for the communication mirror to try to seek help from Fel’s father. She wished she could disappear in the hollow again, but she had to relax to do that, and right now she was the opposite of relaxed.

“C’mon,” he insisted, now right in front of her. “Scream.”

There was only a wall behind her, that horrible pink wall. His hands moved to the top button of her coat—Fel’s coat. She could still feel Fel’s magic hand on her arm, asking her if she was sure she wanted to return to Ironhold. Oh, how proud and stupid she’d been! But then, she had returned to keep her parents safe. Hopefully they were safe now.

Cassius was fumbling with the button, thankfully taking forever to open it. She could try to hit him, kick him. And then what? There was no way she could fight him and win.

He let go of the button and stared at her. “Let’s do it nicely, all right? You’re a little slut who has had some practice. We all know it. So start by getting undressed. Put on a good performance, and you won’t get hurt. See how nice I am?”

At least this would give her time to gather her thoughts, to gain time. Rage was simmering in her as she undid button by button of the coat, as slowly as she could. What did he think he was? What right did he think he had? What right did Venard think he had to give her to his brother? Why did they think they could burn her, hurt her, humiliate her? Didn’t they think there would be consequences? Did they think she was so worthless that they could treat her like that? Did they think Frostlake was so worthless that they could risk her parents’ wrath? Who did this buffoon think he was?

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