Cryo Knight

by Tim Johnson

  For a second, they were pressed against each other in the dark, her bosom pushed against his chest as the guards ambled passed.

  She was a little drunk and leaned into him, and he felt the pressure of her body against his. He sensed her breath quicken as she peered up at him in the dark. Christian, he warned himself. She’s drunk.

  He gently led her away and they continued. Finally, they made it to the blacksmith’s shop, which was still open, and the heat from the forge blasted Christian and Alexia as they walked in.

  The blacksmith regarded them with a glare. Hands on hips, his huge arms flexed.

  “You two,” he said.

  “Us two,” Alexia replied.

  “We need you to make us a pair of Golden Shears,” Christian said.

  “What?” the blacksmith said gruffly. “That’s not something I can just magic up, you know. You’ll be needing a golden ingot and a diamond to start with, not just any diamond mind you, but a Celestial Diamond that’s fallen from the heavens above.”

  Christian slammed the Astral Diamond on the counter. “We have an Astral Diamond. We have everything. The only thing we need is for you to make it for us.”

  “Please,” Alexia said.

  The blacksmith picked up the Astral Diamond, holding it up to the light. “By the dragons, how did you ever get such a thing?”

  “A witch gave it to me. We need you make the shears for us,” Christian said. “Now.”

  The blacksmith eyed them both suspiciously.

  “Fine, how much to make the shears,” Alexia said.

  “For you, a hundred gold,” the blacksmith said, folding his arms.

  Christian looked over at her; he was out of cash.

  “Fifty,” Alexia said.

  “Eighty! Damn you wanderers, I shouldn’t help you at all.”

  “Sixty,” Alexia said firmly, and she held out a bag of gold.

  The blacksmith quickly snatched the bag and it disappeared. “Right, give me the rest of the items and step back. It’s about to get hot in here.”

  Christian passed over the Soul Crystal, the gold ingot and the flower seller’s old shears.

  The blacksmith pumped up the forge to an outrageous heat and placed the items into it one by one. He then pulled shut the forge door for a few moments, when he opened it their valuable items had turned into a molten metal soup. He poured them over the shears, carefully turning them as he did. He then got to work, his hammer moving in a blur. Finally, Christian saw him put the shears back into the forge. Then, like a magician pulling doves out of a hat, he flipped open the forge door and withdrew the Golden Shears.

  The old shears Christian had given him were completely transformed. The handles carved from gold with spiraling patterns engraved, the blades long and razor sharp and etched with stunning designs. The shears seemed to sparkle in the light with a similar shimmer to the chain they were supposed to be able to cut.

  “That’s impossible,” Christian said.

  “Not impossible, just difficult and rare,” the blacksmith said. “Very valuable. They can be used three times.”

  “Three times! That’s it?” Christian took the shears and held them up. But they were beautiful. He smiled at Alexia and she smiled back at him.

  We finally have them.

  Christian placed them in his Inventory.

  “Three times to cut through any material on the planet,” the blacksmith looked at Christian like he was an idiot. “That’s why they are so rare. What is it with you lot? Just like Knight Sulfur barging in here, ruining my evening with your rude and ungrateful manners—”

  “What?” Alexia said. “Sulfur was in here?”

  “Yes, and was bloody rude as well,” the blacksmith said. “Demanding to speak with my assistant and demanding I move to Sark’s kingdom on the ’morrow. I don’t think so.”

  Christian swallowed, a cold shiver crept up his spine. He remembered Sulfur’s threat. “He was looking for Leon Podsworth.? What did you tell him?”

  “I mean, he barged in here demanding to know where Leon lived.”

  “And you told him?” Christian said.

  The blacksmith raised his big hands. “I can’t refuse him; he speaks with the voice of Sark. Of course, I told him.”

  Christian exchanged a look with Alexia.

  Leon helped me. What would Sulfur do to him if he found out?

  “Let’s go,” he said to Alexia.

  They left the shop in a hurry and Christian ran through the alleyways to Leon Podsworth’s little house.

  The Podsworth’s door was smashed in from the hinges.

  Inside it was banged up, there were signs of a struggle. Christian saw his old prison plimsolls stitched up and repaired by the door, incongruous as a piece of e-paper.

  Oh god no.

  Christian paced around the house, looking at the wreckage. There was no sign of Arthur either. He touched his finger to a splatter of blood against the wall. It smeared under his finger – fresh.

  What would Sulfur do with him if he was guilty? He would make an example of him.

  Then he knew.

  He grabbed Alexia. “We have to go, now.”

  They raced back through the town, everything seemed still and quieter, the hubbub gone. They made it to the center of the market square which was packed with a silent crowd in a circle, who were being pushed back by Sark’s drunk soldiers. Christian shoved his way through to the front of the ring.

  Sulfur had Leon Podsworth on his knees in the mud.

  Around him were the townspeople. They looked frightened, gripping one another for support. Sark’s guards were keeping them back. Their swords were drawn.

  Sulfur saw Christian and his lips curled up in a twisted smile. “Look who has come crawling back to us, the two wanderer lovers!”

  Sulfur’s sword was drawn too. Leon was on his hands and knees in the mud, beat-up and sobbing, one eye puffed up, blood and drool dripping from his mouth, his health already low.

  “Please,” Leon cried out. “Just let me go.”

  “Sulfur, what’s going on?” Christian said. “No one needs to get hurt here.”

  “And no one shall,” Sulfur spat. “Except for those that deserve it.”

  Christian slowly took a step closer; he was at the front of the crowd, but the guards clustered around him, staying between him and Sulfur. “Let’s talk this over with Sark, shall we? I’m sure everything can be explained.”

  “Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you?” Sulfur’s voice was venomous. “Sark’s special pet. Well, I’ve discovered your little secret. You’re the Artificer’s spy and this man is your mole.”

  Leon wept in the mud and tried to claw forward, “It’s not true,” he cried out. Sulfur gave him a hard kick in the ribs and dragged him back roughly.

  Christian took another step closer and slowly edged his hand to the hilt of his sword. “Whatever you think you know, Sulfur, you don’t. It’s not how it seems.”

  “What I know, is that you came to Valeria asking for James T. Lee, that is the name of the Artificer. How do I know this? Because this traitor helped you. This scum knew you were a wanderer the whole time. I could smell his deceit the first time I laid my eyes on him.”

  As Christian and Alexia tried to edge forward, the guards near them readied themselves, swords glinting.

  “Sulfur, don’t do this.” Alexia called out.

  In the crowd, Christian saw Arthur peek his face out. The boy looked stricken, staring at his poor dad in the mud.

  Oh god no.

  Sulfur casually kicked Leon again, catching the man across the face. Leon’s health went down further.

  Arthur cried out, squeezing through the guards, running towards his father.

  Sulfur backhanded the boy with a lazy slap, sending little Arthur sprawling across the mud.

  One of Sark’s guards scooped up Arthur, who writhed, screaming and kicking, tears pouring down his muddy cheeks.

  Sulfur lifted his sword, a wicked sm
ile on his lips. “The price for aiding a wanderer, is death.”

  “No!” Christian ran forward, unsheathing his sword. He shoulder-barged the first guard out of his way. But Sulfur was too fast, like a woodcutter he brought the sword down.

  It cleaved through Leon’s neck, cutting off the man’s head.

  Arthur let out an ear-piercing wail.

  I was too late.

  He stared at Sulfur, face-to-face.

  “I’m going to kill you for this,” Christian said.

  Sulfur sheathed his blade. “Men, secure the wanderers, we are taking them back to Sark. They are agents of the Artificer and now I have the proof.”

  28

  Christian and Alexia were chained-up either side of a cell. Thick cuffs were secured around their wrists and chains were looped through and secured to the wall.

  It’s one step forward, one step back.

  Sulfur and his men had secured them and gone to fetch Sark. Sulfur seemed giddy with the discovery. Christian noticed Sulfur hadn’t even bothered to wipe Leon’s blood from his boots as he strode away.

  Christian struggled with his wrist irons. Both his wrists were pressed together in front of him. He sat down, putting his boot on the irons, seeing if there was any movement, any way he could slip his wrists free.

  It didn’t work.

  “Let’s use the Golden Shears and get the hell out of these,” Alexia said as she twisted her wrists trying to get loose.

  “Sark is on his way. If we use one cut on my chains, one cut on yours – we don’t know how long we have to try an escape this cell,” Christian said. “We can’t cut through the door. We have to save the final cut for the witch’s chain. If Sark finds us trying to escape, he’ll throw us in a tougher cell to escape than this one.”

  “What if he is coming to punish us?” Alexia said. “Torture us for more information?”

  “If anyone will be punished, it’s me. But I think Sulfur has over-played his hand. He murdered an innocent man in front of the whole town; the town that Sark was trying to recruit from.”

  “They know about the link between you and your uncle.” Alexia whispered. “That’s not good.”

  “Right now, it doesn’t matter what my relationship with my uncle is, what matters is that Sulfur has us in chains. He has us where he wants us. We stay that way, play this conversation right, and buy ourselves some more time. Then we will try and escape tonight under the cover of dark.”

  It was deep into the evening when they heard the bolt twist and the door to their room was flung open. Sark entered and he was not alone; the huge form of the Demon Arnook ducked his head to enter their cell and scanned them with his blood-red eyes. Sulfur was behind both of them, looking pleased with himself.

  It’s just like the Ice Trials dream. Christian realized. My three enemies together. If only I was strong enough to kill them all now. If only I had ice children of my own to destroy them.

  “Well, well, well,” Sark said softly. He paced in front of Christian and Alexia. “Sulfur found out a few things about you, didn’t he?”

  Behind, Christian watched Sulfur swell up with pride. He still held the keys to the room in his hand.

  “He killed an innocent man,” Christian said, glaring at Sulfur. “Murdered a father in front of his child; the whole town was there and witnessed it.”

  Sark raised his eyebrows and gave a little nod. “It’s true. He did. But I don’t mind some bloodshed.” In one fluid movement Sark grabbed Alexia’s face by the chin, gripping it hard. “A little violence now and then keeps everyone on track.” Sark dropped her face and turned to Christian, squatting in front of him. “I knew you were connected with the Artificer, this whole time.”

  “What do you mean?” Christian said.

  “Your ring. I was so sure it seemed familiar to me. I couldn’t quite place it for the longest time, yet then I remembered. The Artificer wore the same one. Despite this, I was happy to bring you in, care for you and make you strong. Despite all the risks.”

  Sark gestured to Arnook; the Demon had to stoop to fit in their cell and his gigantic horns and shoulders took up half the room.

  “And look how it paid off, you were the proof I needed for Arnook to understand our mission.”

  Arnook huffed and spoke, his voice an octave deeper than Sark’s. “Why waste time with these wanderers? Throw them in the dungeons and melt down the locks. Let them rot.”

  “But that would be a waste,” Sark said with a smile. “We need these wanderers and we need them strong. They are the key to creating the gate back to their world.”

  We are his back-up plan.

  Sark smiled at Christian and Alexia. “We are building the largest army ever seen. Arnook has already taken another dungeon as his own. His power grows.”

  Expanding the dungeons gives the Demons more power, Christian realized. Thinking back to the Goblins embryos he saw growing out of the living rock.

  “That’s why I’ve trained you,” Sark continued. “That’s why I’ve groomed you,

  allowed you to increase your power. And soon you’ll be ready. You see, Christian, whatever you’re planning, whatever you think you know, it’s hopeless. Once I find the Artificer and get the gate, I will open up the gate to your world. If I don’t get my hands on your uncle, you will open the gate. Either way I win.

  “But Sulfur has opened my eyes to something I don’t trust about you, Christian. I detect a certain… mischievousness in you. So, I’ll let Sulfur think up the appropriate punishment for you both.” He hesitated for a moment. “But I want you to know something.” Sark’s voice dropped. “I will find the Artificer; I’ll destroy him, and I will open the gate to your world. That I promise you.”

  With that Sark turned and left them.

  Sulfur was the last to go, giving Christian and Alexia a smirk. “Sleep well. We will have some fun tomorrow.”

  He pulled the keys out of his pocket and gave them a jangle, and Christian finally had the shape of the key to their cell solidified in his head.

  Sulfur slammed the door and Christian heard a key turn in the lock. But he heard no bolt slam home.

  Christian held the shears in his hand, they felt oddly light and faintly buzzed with magic. “Alexia hold out your chains. Let’s see if these things work.”

  Alexia did as he asked and stretched her chains out in front of her as close to him as she could get. Christian couldn’t reach her, but he could just about reach the chains using the shears.

  He had to suspend his disbelief that these light shears would be able to cut through the thick iron links.

  Here goes.

  He snapped the shears on the chain, and they cut through it like it was a piece of cotton string.

  Alexia wrenched the chain through her cuffs and was free. She allowed herself a quick stretch and then grabbed the shears from Christian. With another effortless snip, Christian’s chains were off. He rubbed his wrists.

  Absolutely incredible. If only I had access to this kind of magic when I was in the military.

  Despite the apparent ease, the toll this had taken on the shears was immense. Gone was the shining gold. Already the shears looked old; they were tarnished, the gold flaking from them and a sprinkle of rust covered the length. All that remained to show they were of any value was a slight magical sparkle.

  Christian placed them back in his inventory.

  Alexia was already inspecting the door.

  “I’ve got this,” Christian said. He crouched by the door and extended a finger. He focused on the key-shape he had seen in Sulfur’s hand and closed his eyes.

  He let the mana form the shape of the key, binding the ice in on itself, making it strong as concrete.

  He pushed the key into the lock and turned. But the lock wouldn’t spring. He tried it again, opening his eyes and giving it a hard wrench, and managed to snap the ice key off in the lock.

  Shit.

  Alexia rested against the wall with her arms folded. “It was a g
ood idea.”

  “But it didn’t work,” Christian said.

  He scanned the room. It was a bare cell, nothing like their old quarters. All they had were the chains and the loops for them in the wall. A small grated window let in some light from the moon-lit night outside.

  We’re trapped.

  He fought the temptation to punch the door and have it wake the attention of the guards. His ice key was stuck well inside, blocking up the mechanism. He had bound the ice in on itself so many times it would take ages to melt.

  There must be a way.

  Alexia passed him an arrow. He jammed it into the lock, but it was useless. He returned it and opened his Inventory. Scrolling through all his items he came across the Ashana blade again.

  Something occurred to him. He opened the quest description.

  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 willingly.

  A heart given willingly.

  This is insane.

  “Alexia,” Christian said.

  “What?”

  “If I died here, where would I end up?”

  “We’re on top of the damn respawn point, so you would end up down in Sark’s dungeon.” She looked at him, fear in her eyes. “What are you thinking?”

  “When I was stuck in my cell, I tried to kill myself, but I couldn’t,” Christian said. “The blade wouldn’t even cut my skin. But I think you could do it. I have a weakness to Blight. It would be quick. That way I end up out this cell and back in the dungeons. Then I can come back and—”

  “Rescue me? Firstly, you’ll never make it back. Secondly, I’m the one that came here to rescue you and don’t forget that. Finally, we need to stick together. It only works if we both go.”

  “Are you sure?” Christian swallowed; the thought of doing Alexia harm, made him feel slightly sick.

  Alexia nodded grimly. “This is going to be painful.” Her grip tightened around the arrow in her hand. “How are you going to do it?”