Flameheart soul of the frozen King

Blood on the Snow

A dead man does not ask for permission to live.

"Hold the rope!" the guard shouted from above as he dropped down into the pit, his iron boots swinging toward the frozen corpses.

"You speak too much," Soren said, his voice cold as the ice around them.

Soren slapped his hand onto the frost drake's back. The monster let out a sharp hiss, dug its heavy claws into the vertical ice wall, and launched itself upward before the guard's boots even touched the ground.

"What is that beast doing?" the guard screamed from below, his voice fading fast. "Stop him!"

The drake scrambled up the icy wall with terrifying speed, its sharp talons tearing deep grooves into the frozen blue stone. Soren held tightly to the creature's rough white scales, his teeth grit against the biting wind. In three seconds, they breached the top edge of the pit and landed heavily in the thick snow of the upper plateau.

"Get off me, beast," Soren muttered, sliding off the drake's back. He dropped to one knee, coughing blood onto the white ground.

His lungs felt like they were filled with crushed glass. Every breath was a struggle. His right hand burned violently under the dirty rag he had wrapped around it, the ancient royal mark glowing bright yellow beneath the blood-stained cloth.

"Well, well, well," a sharp, arrogant voice called out from the blizzard ahead. "Look what crawled out of the trash heap."

Soren pushed himself up slowly. Four men clad in heavy iron armor stepped out of the swirling white snow. At the center stood a tall man with a scarred face, carrying a long steel broadsword. The emblem of a black anvil was painted across his chest plate.

"Iron Clan patrol," Soren said quietly, squinting through the blowing snow.

"You have sharp eyes for a dying slave boy," the captain sneered, stepping closer. "I am Captain Haret of the Third Iron Company. You were supposed to be dead inside that hole, boy. But it seems you brought me a very nice gift instead."

Haret pointed his heavy sword at the white frost drake standing behind Soren. The creature growled low in its throat, its pale yellow eyes locked on the captain.

"A wild frost drake," Haret laughed, his breath forming thick white clouds in the freezing air. "Fully tamed in less than an hour. How did a weak commoner like you manage that? Did you crawl on your knees and beg the beast not to eat you?"

"The beast serves me because I command it," Soren replied, keeping his voice entirely level. "It does not serve trash like you."

The three guards behind Haret laughed out loud.

"Listen to him!" one guard shouted. "The bait slave thinks he is a lord!"

"Hand over the creature," Haret ordered, his face turning hard as ice. "Kneel down in the snow, put your face in the dirt, and put these iron chains back around your neck. If you obey right now, I might let you live long enough to starve in our mines."

"And if I refuse?" Soren asked.

"Then I cut off your arms, take the drake, and feed your legs to the hounds," Haret spat. "You have five seconds to choose, slave."

Soren did not reach for a weapon. He did not run. Instead, he pulled his rag tighter over his right hand, making sure the glowing yellow mark was completely hidden from view. He let his shoulders slump forward, leaning heavily against the drake's leg as if he were about to pass out from exhaustion.

"I am weak," Soren groaned out loud, staggering backward into a narrow canyon formed by two tall walls of blue ice. "My mana is gone. I cannot fight four armored men."

"That is right!" Haret shouted, stepping into the narrow ice trench after him. "Run like the dog you are! Follow him, men! Do not let him slip away!"

"Captain, wait!" one of the guards called out, looking up at the high walls of the canyon. "This trench looks unstable! The upper ice is cracked!"

"Shut your mouth and move!" Haret snapped, pushing past his soldier into the narrow space. "He is single boy with no weapon! What can he possibly do?"

Soren backed further into the trench, stepping carefully over loose chunks of frozen stone. The walls of the canyon rose thirty feet above them, leaning inward like a pair of giant icy jaws.

"Stop running, boy!" Haret yelled, closing the distance quickly. He raised his broadsword, the steel blade gleaming in the dim gray light. "This is where your short life ends!"

Soren stopped moving. He stood straight up, dropping the weak, trembling act instantly. His pale eyes stared directly into Haret's face with cold, absolute authority.

"You picked the wrong canyon to enter, Captain," Soren said calmly.

"What did you say?" Haret paused, his sword frozen in mid-air.

"Look up," Soren commanded.

Haret blinked, his eyes darting upward to the narrow strip of sky above the trench. Sitting right at the top of the frozen canyon walls was the white frost drake. Its jaws were open wide, and a deep, rumbling heat was building inside its throat.

"Wait," Haret whispered, his face turning pale. "No... stop!"

"Kill them," Soren ordered softly.

The frost drake let out a deafening roar that shook the very ground. A concentrated blast of pure, white-hot dragon fire erupted from its jaws, slamming directly into the upper ice walls of the narrow trench.

The ancient ice did not just melt; it shattered. High-pitched cracks echoed through the canyon like snapping bone. Thousands of pounds of solid blue ice and heavy snow detached from the walls, raining down into the narrow passage with terrifying speed.

"Retreat! Retreat!" Haret screamed, turning around to run.

It was too late. The heavy ice cascade collapsed into the trench, burying the three Iron Clan guards under a mountain of frozen rock in less than two seconds. Their screams were cut short as tons of ice crushed their heavy armor into the ground.

Haret was thrown backward by the massive shockwave, crashing hard onto his back. A huge block of ice fell directly across his legs, pinning him flat against the frozen floor.

Silence returned to the canyon. Cold white mist rolled slowly over the fresh pile of rubble.

Soren walked forward slowly, his boots crunching on the shattered ice. He stopped right beside the trapped captain and looked down at him.

Haret coughed violently, a thick stream of dark blood spilling from his lips onto his iron armor. His face was twisted in agony, his legs completely crushed beneath the heavy blue stone.

"You... you monster," Haret gasped, struggling to lift his head. "What kind of tamer are you?"

"I am the man who just killed your patrol," Soren said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. He reached down and picked up Haret's dropped broadsword from the snow, testing its weight in his right hand.

"You think you won?" Haret wheezed out, blood bubbling from his mouth as he began to laugh. The sound was wet, crazy, and full of hate. "You think you survived, slave?"

Soren raised the steel blade, pointing the sharp tip at Haret's throat. "Speak clearly before I end you."

"Go ahead! Kill me!" Haret laughed through his bloody teeth, glaring up at Soren. "It changes nothing! You ran up here to save your own skin, but you left your home completely unprotected!"

Soren's eyes narrowed slightly. "What are you talking about?"

"The main Iron Clan force!" Haret spat out, coughing up another dark clot of blood. "Commander Vane did not just want bait kids for the ritual! He wanted the whole valley cleared! Right now, as we speak, three companies of heavy cavalry are surrounding your village!"

Soren's chest tightened, but his face remained completely hard as stone. "You lie."

"Look at the horizon!" Haret sneered, his eyes wide with dying malice. "Look at the sky behind you, boy! They are burning it all! Every house! Every family! Your whole village is being turned to ashes right now!"

Soren turned his head fast, looking back over the snowy ridge toward the southern valley.

Far in the distance, past the icy mountains, dark black smoke was rising heavy into the gray sky. A faint red glow flickered against the clouds, signaling a massive fire that was eating through the distant valley.

Haret's wild laughter echoed off the high ice walls of the trench. "You saved yourself, but everyone you know is already dead! You are too late! You hear me, slave? You are too late!"

Soren did not say another word. He turned back around, raised the heavy steel broadsword with both hands, and brought it down with cold, lethal precision.