Crown of Blood

19.2.|| Fire and Ice

This time, the magic came faster, aware of what it needed to do, happy to be released from its prison. Flames spread between Cage's fingers, but he guided them between the tents. There was a large flurry as the men realized something was happening and rushed away. A few of them picked up weapons, others retreated into tents, while most of them just stood and watched the frost disappearing from under their feet. In some spots, autumn flowers bloomed in reds and yellows.

The silence died down, and Cage couldn't be sure if the camp had quieted down or his hearing had become impaired due to the whooshing of blood in his ears. His vision became hazy and he could feel the magic wavering in a questioning way, as if inquiring how much longer he could keep it up.

It turned out that not much longer. His knees buckled and his hands hit the ground. His breaths came out hitched and uneven and he could feel sweat dripping down the sides of his face. His heartbeat still thundered in his ears and bile rose to his mouth. He spit it out before it could cause retching.

There were voices around him, he knew that. But he couldn't look away from the perfect patch of ground in front of him, the flowers growing there as if to thank him for his effort.

That was the problem. Too much effort. The magic had sipped out of him, draining him as it spread. How could Kat do that without collapsing? Cover so much space, freeze everything much faster than he could counter it?

You've only just begun.

He hadn't mastered fire yet. It was a first attempt at countering her. He should be proud. Instead, he felt inadequate. Would this be enough?

Hands grabbed him under the arms and he knew his body left the ground. His vision was still hazy, and when it refocused, he found himself staring at the purple canopy of his tent. His hearing was still fuzzy, but his senses told him there were guards there with him.

"I'm not dying," he said. "Just overexerted myself a little."

The sound of movement preceded the appearance of Rip. His face was pale and his dark eyes wide with something that looked like both fear and awe.

"You melted the ice."

"I tried to melt the ice." Cage eased himself to his elbows. He was still dressed in the same trousers and tunic and his boots were still on, so he guessed he hadn't been laying there for too long. "Big difference."

"No. You didn't try. You did melt it. The soldiers... They're no longer cold. The blooms."

"Yeah, I have no idea what those have to do with anything." His entire body ached, but he was used to that type of pain. It happened too often when the beast came out while he was cursed.

"Don't you see?" Rip's words tripped as he tried to get them out. "You fought back against the oppressing magic."

That was his intention, but he wasn't sure if it was as efficient as he would have liked it to be. He sat up, moved to the edge of the cot, pressed a hand on his shoulder and rolled his other arm, trying to relax his muscles.

"How long was I out?"

"About two hours."

That wasn't so bad if he'd truly managed to clear the entire camp of frost. Two hours seemed more than worth it. Though falling unconscious on the battlefield could prove a lot more problematic.

I'll be throwing fireballs there. No need to melt, just attack. He shivered at the thought. Rip was still staring at him as if he'd grown horns or something.

"Stop staring. I'm not doing anything."

"You don't--" The man hesitated and stepped back, but the look of awe mingled with fear was still on his face. "Magic is uncommon."