THE DRAGON'S RETURN

The Frozen Pass

Blood dried faster in the freezing mountain wind than it did in the warm capital.

Thorn dragged his boots through the knee-deep snow, every breath burning his throat like swallowed glass. His heavy wool cloak flapped behind him, stiffened by ice and red spray from the guards at the lower gate. Beside his shoulder, a small silver light drifted through the blizzard, flickering against the blinding white air.

"You are moving too slow," Lyra said, her voice ringing thin and clear in his mind. "The guards at the pass post already know we killed the scouts."

Thorn did not slow down. He pulled his leather scarf higher up his neck, trying to hide the dark, granite-like stone creeping up toward his jaw. "They will not stand in my way."

"They have heavy crossbows, Thorn," she warned, hovering closer to his ear. "And your left arm is almost completely solid today. If you force the relic again, the petrification will crawl right over your lips."

He flexed his left hand. The fingers barely moved. Cold grey stone covered his knuckles, smooth and heavy as a tombstone. "If I do not use it, we die in the snow. Is that better?"

"I am just saying you should think before you swing," she snapped. "We need to reach the upper cave before nightfall. The temperature drops fast up here."

A sharp whistle cut through the roaring wind.

Thorn stopped. He pulled his iron sword from his hip with his right hand, keeping the dead left arm close to his chest. Up ahead, three figures stepped out from behind a jagged rock wall. They wore thick grey fur coats and held long iron spears tipped with barbed steel. Behind them stood a squat timber outpost built right into the mouth of the mountain pass.

"Halt, traveler," the lead guard shouted, lowering his spear. "The northern trail is closed by order of the Radiant Sword Sect. Turn back or be shot."

Thorn kept walking. His boots crunched heavily on the frozen crust.

"He is not stopping!" another guard called out, pulling back the lever on a mounted wall crossbow. "Look at his cloak! That is blood!"

"Shoot him!" the leader ordered.

The heavy wooden bolt tore through the snowstorm with a harsh twang.

"Left!" Lyra yelled.

Thorn ducked. The thick bolt whistled past his ear, splitting a pine branch behind him into splinters. He burst into a dead sprint, closing the twenty paces between them before the guard could reload the wall mechanism.

The lead guard thrust his spear straight for Thorn’s chest. Thorn did not dodge. He swung his right arm, catching the shaft with the flat of his blade and knocking it aside. In the same motion, he brought his petrified left fist forward, slamming it directly into the guard's metal chest plate.

A sharp, glass-like cracking sound echoed over the wind.

The grey stone of Thorn’s hand glowed with faint purple veins. The moment his frozen skin touched the metal, the guard's iron armor shattered into grey dust. The man gasped, knocked backward into the snow as his chest plate vanished into thin air.

"Get off him!" the second guard screamed, lunging with his spear.

Thorn spun around, his iron sword slicing through the air. The blade bit deep into the second guard's shoulder, cutting through leather and bone. The man dropped to his knees with a wet cry, his spear tumbling into the drift.

The third guard, standing near the wooden door of the outpost, dropped his weapon in horror. "What are you? What did you do to his armor?"

Thorn stepped over the fallen men, his eyes dark and hollow. "Open the gate."

"The sect will hunt you!" the guard squeaked, backing against the heavy timber doors. "Captain Julian has sent two squads up the eastern trail! You will never make it to the spring!"

Thorn grabbed the man by the collar with his right hand, shoving him hard against the wooden gate. "Is the upper pass open?"

"Yes! Yes, but the wind is too strong! You will freeze before you reach the peak!"

"That is my problem," Thorn said. He struck the man across the face with the hilt of his sword, knocking him cold into the snow.

"That was unnecessary," Lyra said, floating above the unconscious guards. "He was already giving you the answers."

"He was wasting time," Thorn replied, sheathing his sword. He pushed against the heavy wooden beam locking the gate. His muscles strained, the stone skin on his neck pulling tight like hardened leather. "Help me look for ropes or oil inside."

"There is no time," Lyra said, her silver light flaring bright. "I feel magic approaching from the lower trail. Fast."

Thorn turned around, staring down the white slope. Far below, through the swirling curtain of snow, three bright gold lights were rising up the mountain. They moved smoothly over the drifts, unaffected by the deep snow.

"Julian's men," Thorn muttered. "They are using wind charms."

"They will be at this gate in less than five minutes," Lyra said, her voice rising with tension. "We have to move into the canyon now."

Thorn kicked open the smaller pedestrian door beside the main gate. The wood groaned and snapped, revealing a narrow stone path carved into the cliffside. The wind here was twice as strong, howling like a wounded beast through the tight canyon walls.

He stepped through, his boots slipping slightly on the sheet ice covering the stone. Below him was a sheer drop into a black, rocky gorge. Above him, jagged ice spikes hung from the cliff overhangs like long teeth.

"Keep your footing," Lyra warned, flying ahead to light the dark track. "One bad step and you will fall all the way to the bottom. I cannot carry your heavy stone body if you slip."

"I am fine," Thorn grunted, pressing his back against the cold mountain wall.

He took three steps forward before a sudden burst of golden light illuminated the canyon behind them. A loud explosion rocked the timber outpost they had just left. Splinters of wood and burning thatch flew into the air, falling into the ravine below.

A voice carried through the wind, amplified by magic. "Thorn! Stop hiding in the rocks!"

Thorn froze. He knew that voice.

"Julian," he whispered.

"He found us fast," Lyra said, her light dimming to a small, panicked spark. "He must have used the tracking spell from the capital."

A tall man in brilliant white armor stepped through the shattered doorway of the outpost. A long cloak lined with red fur wrapped around his shoulders, untouched by the snow. In his hand, he held a thin silver rapier that hummed with bright yellow energy.

"Look at you," Julian called out, walking slowly along the narrow ledge. "A prince of the realm, living like a hunted dog in the freezing rocks."

Thorn turned his head slowly, looking back over his shoulder. "Go back to the capital, Julian. You have no business in these mountains."

"My business is finishing the job we started six years ago," Julian said, his voice cold and smooth. He stopped ten paces away, raising his rapier. "The sect elders want your head, Thorn. They want the relic inside your chest."

"They can come take it themselves," Thorn said.

"They do not need to," Julian replied, smiling faintly. "I see the curse has reached your face. You look more like a monument than a man now. How much longer do you have? A week? A day?"

"Long enough to kill you," Thorn said.

"Try it, then." Julian lunged forward.

The rapier thrust straight for Thorn's throat, moving faster than the eye could follow. The blade glowed with blinding holy magic, melting the falling snow around it.

Thorn threw himself backward against the rock wall. The silver blade nicked his cheek, leaving a thin trail of black, bloodless stone where the skin tore. Thorn did not feel the pain. He raised his right hand, swinging his iron sword down with all his strength to parry the rapier.

Metal crashed against metal. Sparks showered over the icy path.

Julian stepped back effortlessly, his boots barely touching the slippery surface. "Your form is sloppy, Thorn. You are heavy. You are weak."

"He is trying to bait you!" Lyra cried out from above. "Do not fight him on this narrow ledge! The footing is too dangerous!"

Thorn ignored her. He took a heavy step forward, bringing his petrified left arm up like a shield. "Come on then!"

Julian laughed, stepping in close and thrusting his rapier three times in rapid succession. Thorn blocked the first strike with his sword, absorbed the second against his stone shoulder, and ducked under the third. The holy magic on the rapier scorched his stone skin, making his left arm throb with deep, burning heat.

"You cannot win this," Julian sneered, pressing the offensive. "You are fighting against time itself!"

Thorn waited until Julian committed to a heavy downward strike. As the rapier fell, Thorn did not use his iron blade to block. He reached up with his stone left hand and grabbed the glowing silver steel directly.

Julian's eyes widened in surprise. "What?"

The purple veins under Thorn's stone skin flared bright. The magic on Julian's sword instantly flickered and died. A spiderweb of cracks spread across the fine silver blade as the relic's power broke the weapon's physical structure.

"I told you," Thorn growled, his voice raspy and deep. "I unmake everything."

He squeezed his fingers shut. The rapier shattered into a dozen useless metal shards, falling into the abyss below.

Julian gasped, stumbling back two paces on the ice. He looked at his broken hilt, then up at Thorn's dark, stone-covered face.

"Get off my mountain," Thorn said.

Before Julian could draw his side dagger, Thorn slammed his boot into Julian's chest plate. The force sent the white-armored captain flying backward off the narrow ledge. Julian shouted, his hands reaching for the cliff edge, but the slippery rock offered no grip. He tumbled into the dark snowstorm below, disappearing into the fog of the ravine.

Thorn stood alone on the ledge, his chest heaving heavily. The purple light on his left arm faded back into dull, lifeless grey stone. He looked down at his hand. The petrification had crept half an inch further, now covering his entire wrist and creeping up his forearm toward his elbow.

"Thorn," Lyra said softly, her light floating down to rest on his shoulder. "Your neck."

Thorn reached up with his right hand, touching his jaw. The skin beneath his ear was completely hard now. It felt like cold river stone.

"We need to keep moving," Thorn said, his voice flat. He turned back toward the dark canyon path ahead. "The spring is still two leagues up."

"You used too much power back there," she murmured, her voice filled with quiet dread. "If you fight like that again, you will not be able to speak by tomorrow."

"Then I will not speak," Thorn said, stepping into the howling blizzard. "I only need to walk."