Cryo Knight

by Tim Johnson

  Quest: Survive the Ice Trials: Success!

  Level Up!

  Congratulations you are level 10!

  +5 Stat points to distribute.

  See Tarquen for your reward.

  The old Christian had died in the Altai mountains. He knew what he was now. He was born of ice, solidified in cryo, and carved in Valeria.

  He was the Cryo Knight.

  25

  Christian arrived back at Tarquen’s forge, feeling a strange sense of inner-peace. He walked through the rows of frozen faces and let his mana reach out to them; he could feel them imbued with Tarquen’s will.

  Will I be able to have an ice-force of my own someday?

  Tarquen was curled up on her throne, her long legs crossed. Behind her was the display of swords that made up the wall. She slapped her claws together in a slow clap. “I have to say, I am impressed,” she said. “Few have entered the Ice Trials, less have returned.”

  “I was telling the truth,” Christian said, “and I will stick to my word: I can help you.”

  “And I believe I can probably help you too,” Tarquen pursed her blue lips. “I have had time to think on your words, wanderer. I shall let you live. I shall guide you and grow your powers, and in return you shall grow mine.”

  Quest: Aid Tarquen in her Quest to Become a Great Demon.

  Reward: Share her influence throughout Valeria.

  “I shall,” Christian said. “And my reward for completing the Ice Trials?”

  “Three gifts,” Tarquen said. “The first is your life,” she gestured to the wall of weapons behind him. “The second lay before you – the finest ice-weapons known to this world, made with my own hands. Take your pick.”

  My Weapon-Path.

  Christian stepped up onto the platform and surveyed the collection of weaponry: there were sparkling double-headed axes, broadswords, daggers, maces and spears, all arranged up on the wall in stunning geometric patterns.

  He walked along the wall until he reached the one-handed blades. Tarquen stood and joined him, towering above. Christian inspected each one. Then he saw it.

  The sword was longer than the rest, the blade thick in the center before sharpening to a point. Its pommel was a short, savage spike and the handle curved up into two sharp points. In the center of the handle was a circular gem which shone with a pale blue hue. In the thick part of the blade were three empty slots.

  Christian reached towards it and felt his mana tug at it; the blade rattled in its setting as his fingers reached for the handle. Something in the center gem moved, like clouds passing a full moon.

  “Her name is Ashana,” Tarquen said. She ran a claw along its length. “One of my finest, yet she is unfinished.”

  The gold script hovered above the blade.

  Ashana [Incomplete]

  One-handed sword

  Damage: 150

  Strength: +15 – Intelligence: +10 – Willpower: +5

  Level Requirement: 11

  “This is the one,” Christian said. He gripped the handle and the sword popped free from its encasing in the display.

  In his hand it felt perfect, the balance incredible, and it seemed almost familiar.

  He remembered the blacksmith showing him an image of this very blade, how the blacksmith had conjured it up and the sword had spun in front of him all that time ago. And now it’s mine.

  Tarquen folded her long limbs. “There are others that may be more suitable to your current… development.”

  “I know this is the one,” Christian said. He was close to making level 11 and he could feel the sword radiate so much mana of its own it made his mouth dry.

  “Hmm, very well. Once complete, she would be my most terrifying one-handed blade. She requires three hearts. I will let you take her, but only if you swear to complete her.”

  A quest notification popped up.

  Quest: Complete Ashana.

  To complete Ashana, three hearts you must take—

  Christian didn’t need to read the rest, the sword had to be his. “I swear it,” he said and dismissed the quest notification unread. “Thank you. This is a good blade. I’ll finish it.”

  “Her,” Tarquen snapped. “I put the soul of a powerful priestess that I killed inside her. So yes, take care of her and perhaps she will take care of you as well.”

  Christian looked again at the gem in the center of the handle.

  A soul of a priestess? That’s some dark magic.

  “Now for your next gift,” Tarquen continued. “The final reward of your quest. As tradition, an ice-brother may take one single piece of our treasure. A bond that ties us as allies.”

  Tarquen waved her palm at a rough ice boulder. The ice retreated to reveal a huge treasure chest.

  With a wave of her claw the chest lid opened and, inside, an array of gems and riches sparkled. Christian scanned as much as he could, notifications popping up over each thing, his mind whirring as to what he should take.

  The ring? The diamond necklace? A golden cloak? A gold ingot? The chalice?

  “Select what you want, wanderer. Perhaps the Ring of Puncturing? It gives you a mighty Strength boost so you can take a man’s jaw off with a single punch.”

  Adrenaline burst through Christian as he re-read the descriptions again. A gold ingot. That’s all we need to make the Golden Shears.

  “Oh, he’s seen something he likes,” hissed Tarquen.

  Christian leant forward and gripped the heavy white gold bar. “This.”

  “Your choice of treasure is… disappointing.” Tarquen said. “You can buy a golden ingot at any market, smelt in the soul of an ice creature and make one yourself. Why not take this beautiful diamond necklace that increases your mana reserves? I cut the owner’s head off a century ago. She still adorns my gates as a warm welcome to my future children.”

  “I want the ingot,” Christian said.

  “Or perhaps this Golden Cloak? My ice children need no such adornments, once they’re frozen, they need not be warm. The Golden Cloak will increase your resistance to magic.”

  “No thank you,” Christian said. “This gold ingot suits me just fine.”

  Tarquen looked down at him with an eyebrow raised and then shrugged. She threw the Golden Cloak back into the chest, disappointed. “Very well.”

  With a flick of her claw, the chest snapped closed and the ice around it begun to reform.

  Tarquen spoke, “I believe that concludes our—”

  “Not quite,” Christian said. “My friend, I want to take her with me. Like I said, you can keep the big one.”

  “To freeze something is one thing,” Tarquen replied. “To undo a spell and pour their life mana back into them is another. If I undo the spell, it will undo both.”

  “Then you can re-freeze Sulfur afterwards,” Christian said.

  “Even I am not powerful enough to perform the same spell so quickly. A shame, I would like to have kept the big one. Perhaps you can bring me his head one day, as a present for my welcome gate.”

  Christian nodded. I’d like that.

  Tarquen and Christian shared a smile that despite the context could be considered warm.

  “Very well,” Tarquen said. “I shall return your friends to you. And you shall help me grow, you shall help me become a great Demon. I want more power and you will help me get it. I already have a few plans. Now we are bonded, I will be able to reach you through the ice.”

  Christian knew he needed to tread carefully. Tarquen seemed mostly interested in decapitation and freezing people for her ice-army. But Sark has a Demon ally and now so do I.

  Christian dipped his head. “Sounds good.”

  “Excellent.” Tarquen lurched back towards Alexia and Sulfur.

  Christian stepped towards Alexia’s frozen form. He could see through her. Sulfur was right, perhaps they had unwittingly discovered a way to neutralizing a wanderer’s power.

  All the better that Tarquen is on my side, for now.

  He watched T
arquen close her eyes and focus. He could feel the crackle of ice mana around him. It sent a strange wave of pleasure through Christian being this close to Tarquen’s mana.

  In front of him, he watched as a tiny red dot formed in the center of Alexia’s head, then it grew, veins shooting out of it, bursting into a purple brain, then arteries that wrapped bone, covered with muscle then fat and skin, and finally Alexia was in front of him. She was fully formed and whole, her skin a pallid white, her leather armor polished to a shine.

  But her skin was cold and white. Dead.

  For a moment Christian was back in the town hall, the dead white faces staring up, holding Iryna’s cold body in his arms.

  “Tarquen, she’s not awake!”

  “Just a moment,” Tarquin said through gritted teeth.

  Finally, color burst into Alexia’s cheeks and she took a breath and her eyes fluttered open.

  Christian gripped her in a bear hug as she fell forward.

  “What happened?” she stuttered.

  “You’re okay. I’ll explain everything later,” Christian said. He turned to see Sulfur fully formed, the bigger man taking longer to revive. “I have a gold ingot,” he whispered in her ear. “Tarquen is an ally. We have everything we need. Everything is alright.”

  Alexia regained her balance. “Okay.”

  Beside them Sulfur woke and staggered to the side, his sword in a half-swing as he slipped and slammed onto the ground.

  Tarquen’s ice-army quickly snapped around Sulfur.

  Sulfur tried to stand but being reformed had left him off-balance and slow. “What did you do? Damn you demon I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” Tarquen spat. “You should thank your friend here, that’s what you should do. If it wasn’t for him, you’d be the ugliest child I have.”

  Sulfur blinked and scowled. “Christian, what’s going on?”

  “I’ll explain,” Christian said, “but it’s time for us to leave. Now.”

  “That’s right.” Tarquen said. “You’ve outstayed your welcome humans. Be gone.”

  Outside the cave, they stomped back down the mountain towards the camp. Sulfur pushed the pace, but he didn’t push Christian for details. In fact, he didn’t say anything. He seemed furious, his rage barely in check with each stamp of his boots through the ice.

  Christian and Alexia walked behind him in silence.

  They exchanged a glance, and Christian could see concern crease the corner of her eyes. What is she worried about?

  He was fine, watching his enemies be torn apart in the ice-trials had been very cathartic. One day he might possess such skill to turn people into his ice children.

  The thought filled him with a cold hope. He imagined reaching in and tearing someone’s soul from their body and imbuing it with ice, freezing them and reforming them to his will. There was something very beautiful in that.

  The gap between him and Sulfur was still big, but he was closing in on him. He could feel it now – Sulfur was level 30, Christian just a level 10, yet they were in Christian’s world here. The cold invigorated him and gave him an edge, and he felt a new confidence in his abilities.

  Could we take him? Together, could we out-fight Sulfur, right here, right now? Christian shook his head, dismissing the thought. Not definitely, and it wouldn’t be smart to try. He couldn’t listen to the part of him that wanted to freeze Sulfur’s head into an ice block and hack it off for Tarquen’s gate.

  They needed to stick to the plan and get everyone out to his uncle. They needed to think long-term and get to his uncle’s fortress. Perhaps his uncle would already have an escape plan cooked up. An unsuccessful fight now would ruin that.

  But it felt good watching Sulfur die in the Ice Trials and frozen by Tarquen’s hand. I’ll take that as a win for today until I can do the job myself. As they walked, Christian scrolled through his Stat Screen. He decided to give himself his long-awaited health boost and placed all five of his available stat points in Stamina, pushing his health up to 320.

  Christian Lawson

  Level 10

  Build: KnightAffinity: Ice

  Health: 320/320Mana: 300/300

  XP: 4000/4100

  Stats:

  Points to Distribute: 0

  Strength 17 – Stamina 16 – Intelligence 20 – Dexterity 12 – Willpower 15

  Darkstar Blade: Strength +10

  He brought up the sword next, and it spun, overlaid in front of his vision. The stats were amazing, giving him a boost in Strength, Intelligence and Willpower. He couldn’t wait to equip it.

  He read the sword quest:

  Quest: Complete Ashana.

  To complete Ashana, three hearts you must take. The first from your true enemy, the second large and black from a forest troll, the third heart cannot be taken, but must be given to you freely and whole.

  Ashana [0/3 Heart Stones]: +15 Strength +10 Intelligence +5 Willpower

  Never let a wanderer find their Weapon-Path, he remembered the master blacksmith saying. Well I guess I know why they say that now. This sword is going to make me seriously powerful.

  Next, he checked out the quest from Tarquen.

  Quest: Aid Tarquen in her Quest to Become a Great Demon.

  To become a great Demon requires power beyond measure. Gather souls to worship Tarquen and fresh heads for her to sever. Help her forge a dungeon that can last forever.

  Reward: Share her influence throughout Valeria.

  Gather souls? He might need to check Tarquen’s expectations there. All these quests seemed focused around killing people and cutting off their heads.

  But is there a way to line up what Tarquen wants with my own objectives?

  He went back to the quest of freeing the witch and scrolled through the list.

  The items they needed were a golden ingot, an Astral Diamond, shears and a Soul Crystal. They had everything but the shears and a way to get back to the blacksmith.

  We’ve done the hard things, now we just need a pair of shears and a way to free the witch. Then she fixes Alexia’s portal stones and we port the hell out of here and back to my uncle.

  It was all in reach. It was all possible.

  They had Arnook and his army to deal with, but perhaps if they could secure the gate back to Earth, they wouldn’t have to deal with him.

  But some other wanderer’s world might. That thought struck Christian’s conscience.

  They met the rest of the party at the camp. Sulfur exchanged a few gruff words with the team. They weren’t camping there for the night but going straight back to the Kingdom of the Red Fist. They journeyed non-stop back to the Red First Kingdom through the night. The crisp night air was filled with the howls of wolves and the shuffling sounds of nocturnal creatures.

  They made it back to the kingdom by sunrise.

  “Christian, with me,” Sulfur spat as he dismounted.

  Christian dismounted, handing the reins to the stable boy, and followed Sulfur’s quick pace. Alexia stared at him concerned, but Christian knew exactly what this was.

  This was the first time Sulfur had been on the back foot. Christian had a power where he didn’t and Sulfur was acting rash, tired from the journey. There was only one person they could be going to see. Knight Lord Sark.

  This is where he will make a mistake.

  Christian followed behind.

  Now, I’ve got you.

  26

  Christian and Sulfur traversed through the fortress as it woke for the new day. The corridors were filled with the heavy tang of freshly-chopped meat and there was a quiet morning bustle as servants went about their tasks. They passed Sark’s soldiers who were preparing to leave the fortress on their quests, and hundreds of workmen who were on their way to continue building up Sark’s fortress.

  They navigated several levels until they reached a door that lead outside to a portcullis. Beyond that was a cobbled bridge within the fortress, that led to its own separate bastion.

  So, Sark keeps himself in a f
ortress within a fortress.

  It was in the center of the keep, its own thick round turret, with just the one bridge to enter. The stone tower soared into the sky, with a hundred slits for archers to rain death on whoever planned to cross this internal bridge with hostile intentions.

  Not an easy place to storm.

  They crossed the bridge to the far set of golden gates, guarded by Sark’s giant elite guards, two level 25s.

  “Open the gates,” Sulfur growled at them.

  The guards obeyed without a word, pulling the massive chains and hoisting the gates up like they weighed nothing.

  They must have put every stat point in Strength. I bet they’re slow in a fight though.

  Christian and Sulfur made their way inside the fortress. The opulence of the place was overwhelming: thick rugs adorned the ground and the walls were decorated with tapestries, weapons and art.

  Several life-sized statues of Sark himself marked their journey – Sark launching with a spear; Sark killing a sabretooth.

  Everything was a gross statement to his power. But Christian understood. Making people walk these halls for an audience was an exercise in intimidation. They continued up and up. He wondered how his uncle felt, all those years ago going to meet Sark for the first time, with his scrolls and plans to help.

  Surely, he must have had an inkling that Sark was a monster?

  They eventually made it to Sark’s inner-quarters. The route cemented in Christian’s mind. They were a being held in a waiting room, this one with exotic taxidermy.

  Christian eyed the dead sabretooth tiger, fixed in a leaping pose, mouth open and snarling. He hoped it was the same from the statue and not the friend he had made in Arnook’s dungeon.