Page 78 of Frozen Hearts and Death Magic

16

Attack

Fel had checked the weapons and they were actually advancing on the wooden catapult. It felt good to feel useful, to be doing something. He’d missed his friend, missed being here—but he also missed his sister, and worried about what was happening to her. And he also missed Leah, which was absolutely ridiculous. He couldn’t miss someone who’d never been his friend—or anything, really. But he felt uneasy and worried about her, which was again ridiculous. She was probably happy with her two-handed, perfect husband.

And then there was someone else Fel was worried about—his father. He was still home, just a short ride away. As much as Fel would like to remain in the fort focusing on planning for who knows what threat, trying to forget all memories from the gathering, from Frostlake, he decided it was better to go back home and check on his father.

The sun was already setting when Fel crossed the huge iron gate and headed back to his manor. He never took the main road, but a more discreet path, sheltered from view by treetops.

As he rode, he kept feeling an unrelenting anguish that wouldn’t leave his chest. He was still thinking about Leah, still worried about her. All nonsense, of course. So much nonsense, nonsense like his father had warned him against. He was worried about Leah? That was laughable. Even if the Ironholds were evil, she was going to become part of that family. Perhaps she and her lovely husband would sit on a throne and share a sinister laugh about all the kingdoms they conquered. Her choice had been clear, and Fel had nothing to do with that.

And then there was something else, a strange presence in the forest. Not an animal. He stopped and listened—then ducked, as an arrow flew past him, right above his head. Another arrow flew below him, from the opposite direction, and his horse reared. Shit, no. They got Flip’s leg.

Fel dismounted and sent his horse away before he got hit again for something that wasn’t his fault. But now he was alone, carrying just a sword, without even a shield, and there were at least two archers targeting him. At least he could sense where they were just by feeling how they disturbed the forest.

Fel didn’t even have time to unglove his hands as he sent each of them towards the direction from where the arrows had come, while at the same time ducking a third arrow.

Three attackers surrounded him, not two. This was an ambush, there was no question about it, and no time for him to wonder who could be behind it or what their motives were. All he could do was focus all his senses into finding his attackers.

One of his hands found one person and was now strangling them. Their bow and arrows fell from a tree, then the person jumped. The other hand… he could no longer feel it. Another arrow came from that direction, but Fel had already hidden behind a tree, taking cover from the two archers who were still shooting. He ran, to give some distance, and heard steps behind him. They were coming for him, two of them. No, three, as the one who had fallen from the tree somehow had managed to get up.

Fel pulled his sword using his magic and sent it flying in the direction of the first one coming. The weapon met some resistance, then he heard a grunt, pulled back the sword, and sent it toward the second attacker, but then, again, he could no longer feel the sword, as if it had disintegrated or something.

Four daggers came in his direction. Iron daggers. Easy. He turned them around, two towards each assailant who was still standing. He felt one of them hitting an attacker, one missing, but then he lost the two other daggers. One attacker was messing with his magic—and now getting close, a strange dagger in his hand. A wooden dagger. Sneaky. He had medium skin and brown hair, and could be from any kingdom, even from Umbraar.

Fel managed to pull back one of his hands, but the other was lost, as if it had dissolved into the environment or maybe it was just too far. He formed a fist with the hand he could reach, and sent it towards the man running towards him, who stopped and smiled. Fel watched in horror as the man stared at his hand, and it got hotter and hotter, standing still in the air. The man was an ironbringer. Fel shoved down all the questions that this information raised, and took the opportunity to kick a rock towards the man. It hit his shoulder, but with little damage. Meanwhile, Fel’s hand had melted and fallen to the ground.

“Ooooh.” The man mock-pouted. “Not fun to play when you’re not the only one with the tricks.” His accent was neutral Alurian, but if he was an ironbringer, it wasn’t hard to guess where he was from.

“Just go. And I’ll spare your life,” Fel said.

The man laughed. “You? Really?” He frowned and pretended to be thoughtful. “How is that going to work? Without a sword? Without… hands.”

Fel had considered negotiating, proposing to pay more than whoever had hired them, but that was always a risky thing to do. And now he was pissed that the man was mocking him, as if Fel were lesser than anyone, and he wasn’t. “If you want to die today, it’s your choice.”

The man rolled his eyes, which only made Fel even angrier. No. This was wrong. Feelings had no place in a fight. He could get angry later. Now was the time to think; think clearly and find an opening. There was always an opening if one cared to see. But he needed time. The man stood still watching him, perhaps also observing, also strategizing.

“I give up.” Fel raised his arms. “What do you want?”

“Your life, fake ironbringer.”

“Surely there are more things you want.”

He shrugged. “They don’t matter right now.”

Then another man came running, the first archer who had almost been strangled. Fel’s compassion was going to be his doom, considering he should have killed him while he could.

As both of them advanced on Fel, he tried to reach for any metal, any iron… The only thing he found were small nails on both men’s boots, keeping the soles in place. He ripped them out and poked their feet, then kicked a twig and hit the ironbringer on the head, and kicked the other man, but it didn’t do much to hurt them. The nails were gone now, even if the men’s shoes were ruined, which hindered their walking. Fel could perhaps take the opportunity and run now, but that would leave both assailants alive and prone to return, perhaps with more help. He had to fight. But how?

His moment of indecision cost him dearly, as the ironbringer jumped on him and managed to push him to the ground. Fel felt his back hitting the hard edge of a rock, sharp pain coursing through him, but the worst was seeing a sharp wooden dagger aimed at his face.

* * *

Naia still didn’t understandwhat was bothering her. Everything was lovely and colorful in this house. Perhaps it was just that it missed more warmth and life, and yet she felt calm, at peace—except for something nagging her on the back of her mind.

Her days in Umbraar had been spent studying, training her magic, or walking in the woods. The woods—she missed them. Naia glanced out the window. There was a forest surrounding the house, but it wasn’t the same. Something about it wasn’t appealing.

But looking outside gave her an idea. She walked out, glad to see that there was an area paved with stones. Perfect for training her fire magic, which was something she always liked to do for at least one hour a day.

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