Chapter 95 – The Road to Frostland’s Gate

The glaciavore let out a blood-curdling roar. Mirian led with an incineration beam. It would have been powerful enough to lance a bog lion, but the ice armor on the huge myrvite only steamed. No heat attacks she thought as she circled behind the trunk of a tree so that the glaciavore couldn’t charge her, then peeked out around as her hands flipped through her spellbook. She always organized her spellbook the same way, a habit she’d picked up preparing for the Battle of Torrviol, since the last thing you wanted in a fight was to be trying to remember what page you put a spell on.

It didn’t seem to be in any rush as it moved forward. Mirian watched as the ground around it froze, ice crystals hardening before her very eyes. Glaciavores had a natural heat displacement aura that extended a few feet around them. Another reason engaging it in melee would be foolhardy. If it was flash-freezing trees it passed, even getting close would kill her.

Mirian carefully retreated, then cast warmth around her because she could already feel the bite of the cold from the glaciavore even at a distance. Then it did charge.

She bolted left, scrambling over a nearby log and then diving through some light underbrush, then as she hefted her spellbook from its chain at her side again, looked for where she might be able to move next. At least the glaciavore’s big size was a hindrance to its movement. It made a growling noise and started circling around again, keeping its four beady eyes trained on Mirian.

A nearby tree let out a pop! as a section of its bark shattered. Mirian felt the bark splatter in her hair as she carefully stepped backward. She sent out a force blades spell. It was powerful enough to carve chunks out of the trees, but the blades just left wet marks on the armor. It was like trying to attack a lake with ice skates.

As the glaciavore rumbled forward again, pincer-mouth tearing through a piece of trunk. It started tearing up the underbrush between it and Mirian with its claws. Mirian dashed up the trail as it crashed through in hot pursuit.

Further up the trail, the road circled around another outcropping of rock. She scanned the boulders strewn about it. Direct attacks on the beast would just fizzle against it. She needed a new strategy.

From the chill deepening around her, she knew the glaciavore was gaining. Quickly, she flipped through her spellbook to lift multiple objects.

When all else failed, she could always rely on a classic.

With a mental heave, Mirian picked up three of the granite boulders, each weighing at least fifty pounds. She sent them past her, two of the rocks passing her shoulders by inches and the third going so close overhead she felt the whoosh of air. That was followed by the crunch! of ice shattering and—at last—a roar of pain from the beast. She whirled, keeping her mana flowing and concentration on the spell. Moving three objects at once was difficult enough that she had trouble remembering to move her body too. She sent the three boulders swirling about the glaciavore, smashing into it one after another, again and again.

Her mana was draining rapidly, but the beast couldn’t ignore the attacks. Instead of coming after her, it was growling and swatting at the offending boulders.

Behind the glaciavore, Mirian noticed that one of the larger pines had been heavily damaged, first by the icy aura, then by the creature as it had smashed into it with a paw. She dropped two of the boulders, continuing to channel mana into the third one. Meanwhile, she crept slowly to the side so she was behind another trunk, then used one of the alternate enhancements on her force blade spell. This changed it from multiple blades to one big one.

She didn’t attack the glaciavore. Instead, she went after the tree behind it.

The force spell took huge chunks out of the tough wood. Then Mirian swapped to a manipulate object, enhanced for raw power, and yanked on the trunk on a high point for the leverage.

There was a tremendous ripping sound. Wood splintered, and then the tree groaned as it fell forward.

The glaciavore stopped batting at the annoying boulder just in time to see the tree plummeting toward it. With a crash that echoed through the forest, it landed directly on top of the beast. Its ice-shell split open, and there was a wet crunch.

It twitched once more, then went still. Gradually, the frost-aura receded, and Mirian could finally ditch the warmth spell.

She let out a breath she’d been holding, then cautiously looked around to make sure nothing else was nearby. Hopefully, the glaciavore had already chased away anything else that might try to eat her. She waited to see if it really was dead, then approached it. She closed her eyes as she steadied her breathing, imagining the Mausoleum she saw so often in her dreams. Along the eastern wing (or what she assumed was east), she found the reliefs of strange creatures. They were carved to be so lifelike it was easy to imagine them just leaping from the wall, yet so alien that they made myrvites look mundane.

Glaciavores, she remembered at last, had two spell organs. All four eyes were magical, and it had its own unique organ, called a coldheart, that moved an entirely different circulatory system around. The eyes were easy enough to pry open out of its head once she’d smashed the skull open. The shone like sapphires—the world’s creepiest sapphires. She’d heard of people wearing them in jewelry, but couldn’t fathom why someone would want to wear blue eyeballs. However, they were also fantastic for any wand that used any of the glyphs that regulated heat energy, not just displacement, but heat generation.

The coldheart took some time to get out, because even with the ice armor shattered, the beast’s hide was tough as anything. Also, it was beneath a tree. Thoughtless of whoever put it there, Mirian joked to herself.

The heart had been mostly pulped by the tree landing on the glaciavore, since it was just below the spine, but she emptied out one of her drawstring bags so she could stuff the remains of it in there. Someone in Frostland’s Gate would want to distill the magichemicals from it.

Really, the whole thing was valuable, but there was no way she was hauling a literal one ton beast all the way to the village.

Mirian’s traveler’s pack was a mess. The glaciavore had walked right by it, freezing everything in it. Several of the ink bottles had shattered and her waterskin had burst. Fortunately, she could thaw the pack and the food, and her bedroll had an enchantment, so it had never frozen. She ditched anything that was unsalvageable in a pile by the corpse, then set off again.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

And again, she barely made it to the obelisk at the top of the next pass. She was surprised to see the ward already up, another traveler resting by the hearth stone. She made small talk, introducing herself as Niluri. When he said he spent his life on the road, she believed him; his face and arms had this weather-beaten look to it, and even though the hearth stone wasn’t putting out much heat, he’d taken off his cloak and jacket, not the slightest bit bothered by the cold.

When he asked, “Seen any myrvites on the road?” she hesitated at first, then answered truthfully. The man stood up instantly. “Where? How long ago? Did it follow you?”

“It’s dead,” Mirian assured him.

“Thank the Gods,” he said, “But don’t frighten people like that. Do you know what killed it?”

“I did.”

That brought a moment of silence to the campsite. The man blinked several times. “What are you trying to pull?”

Mirian brought out the bag of glaciavore eyes and tossed it to him. “Check them, if you want. They still have dried blood on them. Did you know glaciavore blood is unusually dark, but the cryoblood is blue?” She was so tired of people not believing her. Rationally, she knew why. She still looked young, even with the soul-transformation, and didn’t dress like anyone particularly powerful or important.