Glacius Frostmaw's Arc

Chapter 2 of 14

The cave shook, but Glacius held the blade. Dragon-scale power roared through the ice edge. The weapon shook in his fist. Light burst along its length. Cracks spread up the blade itself, thin and bright. The power he had stolen now wanted to tear the sword apart. If he could not calm it, his prize would shatter to slivers. He gripped the hilt with both hands. The dragon head at the pommel glowed white. Heat and cold fought inside the metal. His fingers burned. He tried to force the power down by strength. The blade only screamed louder. A crack jumped near the guard. He was losing it. "Strength won't hold it," said a voice behind him. Oskar stood in the ruined cave mouth. The ice guardian was smaller than a child, white hair wild, blue eyes cold. Frost still spread from each step. He had every reason to let the weapon break. Glacius had ignored his warning and killed the mountain. "Then tell me what will," Glacius said. His arms shook. Oskar's face did not soften. "You took the dragon's heart. It does not obey a fist. It answers a purpose. Give it one, or it will scatter you across the snow." Glacius thought of the low valleys. He thought of raiders and thin fields. He thought of his sister below the tree line, growing her small tree while the mountain leaned toward her. He stopped fighting the blade. He pictured the reason he had climbed at all. "Protect them," he said aloud. "Not break. Not burn. Guard." The blade's scream dropped to a hum. The bright cracks along the edge did not spread. They sealed. The metal cooled under his hands. The dragon head at the hilt dimmed to a steady blue. The weapon settled, tamed, whole and sharp and quiet. Glacius breathed hard. The sword was his now, truly his. It would not shatter. He had forged the unbreakable edge he came for. A groan rolled up from deep in the peak. Stone ground on stone. Ice fell from the ceiling in sheets. The cave was dying around him. Oskar watched him without pity. "You have your weapon. And the mountain has its wound. It is falling." He pointed down, past the broken wall, toward the slopes below. "It falls where your sister sleeps." Glacius looked at the tamed blade, then at the guardian. The power that woke the sword had cracked the whole peak. He could not undo it. He could only run ahead of it. He turned from the cave and started down the shaking mountain, blade in hand, toward the tree line and Skara.