Eternal Winter

Foggy Hope: Part III

Beneath my feet, the earth began to rumble. Cracks broke into fissures through the stone, branching out further and further away from where my hand made contact—racing alongside my companions towards the guards. Reaching them, already unsteady on their feet, they fell easily to the blades and hands of the intruders.

I was quick on their heels, slipping passed the slumped over guards, barely pausing to see if their chests were still moving under a light coat of slush and blood. Maintain kills to a minimum, if we must, was Julian's only request. From someone who had asked so little of me when I asked for so much from him, heeding his plea was the least I could do today. I hurriedly crossed the bridge.

The door, just barely tucked into the uncanny building, was sealed up tight with no apparent latch or handle to pull. Two parallel iron bands laid over the wood at the top and bottom, holding the thick, wooden boards in place.

Sammy was already set to work, kneeling beside the bottommost band. A thin trickle of sweat had already slipped down his face, his eyes unflinching in their attention. He didn't look away even as my shadow fell in with his. He only spoke in a dazed whisper at my arrival, "Just a moment—metal is easier to shift than wood, already molded once, but it will still take a—" and before he finished his thought, the iron band fell away, cracking and breaking apart at the weakest point in Sammy's fingers.

He stood abruptly with a ghost of a smile on his face and stretched up high for the second. His fingers easily reached it and I blinked twice, resizing him—he is my height...how have I missed this? Beside him for-for a year and a half...when..?

Such thoughts escaped my mind as the second band split and fell away, leaving the wood to fall after it. It all resounded in a great clatter. We did not hesitate—we could not hesitate, not with the sound having announced our arrival. Certainly not with the two guards that stood directly on the opposite side of the decimated door, swords drawn and at the ready.

Michaela was the first to pounce, a grin twisting her face and her hands stretched wide, the gray wisps of magic shimmered from her fingertips as she splayed them against the floor and swept out towards the guards. A slick, glossy sheen spread from where she had touched and when the guards took one step towards her, they slipped and fell in a bundle. "Oil," she clicked, winking at the struggling, sprawled figures glaring up at her as she strode passed them. "Here's hoping there are no fire baubles near you."

At that cue, I whisked the staff up from my side and shoved it into the heap of wood. "Burn," I commanded, and fire burst from the staff, spreading to the wood in hearty leaps.

I withdrew my staff and stared at them intently, through the holes carved under their helmets. "Which way?"

One of them gritted their teeth, reaching for their sword, fallen from their hand when they fell. Julian kicked it away deftly, pointing his own down at them. "You heard the madam," he spoke, his voice hard, yet no louder than a whisper. There was no quaver in his hand or voice, only a faint trace in his shoulders and the absence of his grin.

The other was scooting away from the burning pile hastily, not taking their wide eyes off of it with their brows fully tucked beneath their helm.

"This could go very badly for you very quickly," Michaela stated casually from behind.

They looked down at themselves, being made acutely aware of the damp oil soaking into their uniform only hastened their panic.

"Not here—not-not here!" they stammered out, transfixed and trembling all over. I could make out the reflection of the flames licking up in their eyes. A chill swept down my spine, even near the fire and out of the cold...