Page 125 of Frozen Hearts and Death Magic

25

The Wave

20 years before

River made it to the port city without stopping, without sleeping, trading horses on the way, fueled by the excitement and anticipation of getting that staff back to the Ancient City. If this artifact could really counter human magic, it could mean their victory, their freedom.

He would need to find a ship going to Aluria right away, and glamour the captain to let him join the crew. Perhaps he would even glamour them into leaving early. River had looked back a few times, and saw no pursuers. He’d been ready for a fight, or to try to trick the dragon lords, and yet none of them had come. Perhaps it was because he was traveling fast. And yet he had an eerie, ominous feeling.

Could it be that the pretty, mysterious lady had done something to protect him? Maybe. The memory of her had been bothering him too. He would spend the rest of his life wondering who she was, wondering why she had helped him, thinking about her and wishing he could have spent more time with her. The funny part was that he sensed no life debt. It was almost as if her actions didn’t count or, worse, as if she no longer existed, which was an uncomfortable thought.

He’d always thought love at first sight was the epitome of ridiculous. Well, congratulations, River. But it wasn’t love, it was a yearning, a wanting, something hard to explain. The thought that he’d spend the rest of his life with that wanting unfulfilled didn’t make anything better. But he had the staff, and that made everything better.

The sun was rising when he got to the port, rising like his hope. Four ships were docked there, and as a sign of his good luck, one of them was ready to go, a Fernick ship, and River convinced the captain to let him travel with them.

The ship was called Golden Mountain, and wasn’t decorated with skulls like the Alurian ships, even if they also benefited from the Umbraar death magic allowing them to cross. Theyleft in the late morning, after three tense hours when River had been hiding downstairs, dreading being accosted by angry dragon lords.

When the anchor was raised and he felt the movement of the boat, he barely believed his luck, barely believed he was on his way home, barely believed he had the staff. Perhaps it had indeed been destiny, and destiny was smiling upon him.

His euphoria soon faded, though, as a strong headache took its place. He felt as if someone had a hammer and a stake and was poking his skull. Wait. There was something poking his head all right—but inside out. His horns were coming out, and he bemoaned all the times he had wished for this to happen.

Why did it have to be now? He couldglamour them, of course, at least in theory, unless pain consumed him, then it was a little hard to keep the glamour on. To make matters worse, since the horns were new, he wasn’t used to disguising them. But they were still small, just two little, ridiculous stumps, and if he messed his hair, perhaps he could get by. He lay down on his cot the whole night.

The morning brought fever and shivering, which was something quite rare in Ancients, but happened during the horning. Horning. That was usually a whole event where the young one going through the transition had friends and distant family came by with gifts, food, and comfort. River had spent his childhood expecting this, and now he was having it while on a ship surrounded by humans—right when they were at war with his people.

The captain came down, looked at him from a distance, then ordered him to go to a small storage room on the other side of the boat. They feared he had a contagious disease, which made sense. River carried his cot and clothes with difficulty and complied. At least being alone meant he wouldn’t need to glamour himself, and that was a relief. Still, he tied a headscarf around the top of his head, just to be safe. He’d seen some sailors wearing those, and it was the perfect disguise for both horns and ears.

When night was falling, someone opened the door. It was their cook and healer, an old man called Von, bringing him some soup.

River was thankful, but also curious. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll get sick?”

The man snorted. “I’ve seen plague come and go. You probably just ate something you’re not used to. The body does that. It thinks your food is poison, then fights it. So much fighting.” He sighed. “But it’s best that you stay here. Makes everyone feel better.”

“It does.” He tried a smile, despite still feeling like something was puncturing his skull. It wasn’t puncturing, but growing from it, which didn’t change the feeling. He then added, “And I appreciate the food.” This was dangerously close to thanking the man, and River didn’t want to be indebted, but he felt it would be odd not to say anything.

Von waved a hand. “It’s nothing.” He stared at River’s eyes for a second too long, a second in which River tried to make sure they looked brown, without being absolutely certain. The man then said, “I’ll let you rest,” and left.

Hopefully he hadn’t noticed what River was. He spent the night fearing not only that the dragon lords would somehow find him, but that the crew of the Golden Mountain would come and toss him from the boat, or worse, take him as a prisoner.

The fever and pain didn’t subside for the next day, but Von kept bringing him food. On the second night, the old man pointed at his head. “They’re showing.”

“What?” River ran his hand over the headscarf, realizing the bumps were much larger now. But that couldn’t be what the man had meant, could it?

The man shook his head and snorted. “Don’t try to fool me. I know what you are. Your eyes turn almost red sometimes, just so you know.”

His voice was too calm for someone who knew he was an Ancient. “You mean… I am…”

“A halfling. Got some fae blood in you, don’t you?”

River exhaled. Right. There was some inter-mixing in the villages where Ancients and humans lived in harmony. Had lived in harmony. And probably a lot of inter-mixing in Fernick. “Some fae blood, yes. But I’m also human.” Just one-eighth human, but still.

“Well, tie that scarf looser so people won’t notice it. It’s tough for your kind right now. In fact, I don’t understand why you’re going to Aluria.”

“It’s my home.”

The man sighed and eventually left. A halfling. He’d never thought what would happen to humans who were partly fae. In Aluria, some of these families had moved to the Ancient City, along with so many refugees, but there were obviously more of them, still living among humans. And yet there was nothing he could do about that. He had to hope the Umbraar king didn’t find their city and that his father could use the staff and counter the human magic.

At least they were getting close to Aluria and should be there by the next evening. That night, as he slept, the sound of a rumble woke him up. It was loud, but still muffled, as if far away. It sounded sort of like thunder, but there was no rain.

---