Jorik's laugh was quick and genuine, transforming his battle-worn features into something closer to the boy Kaine must remember.The woman sitting beside him chuckled, as well.Thalia glanced at her, then at the others seated nearby.
To Jorik's right sat a young woman with the unmistakable wave-pattern tattoos of a storm-caller climbing her bare arms, though her youth—she couldn't be older than nineteen—made the elaborate markings seem almost incongruous on her slender frame.
Beside her sat a woman with rich brown skin and short-cropped, tightly coiled hair, her arm wrapped protectively around a boy of perhaps nine or ten who bore her same wide, dark eyes and determined chin.
Across from them, two Northern men with the hard features and watchful gazes of career soldiers observed Thalia with the cautious assessment of men who had learned the hard way not to trust easily.
"My traveling companions," Jorik said, noting her interest."Or at least, some of them.Lyra," he nodded to the young storm-caller, "joined us after her fortress-whale was sunk off the Northern coast.Amara and her son Niko," he indicated the Southern woman and child, "found us—or we found them—after their village was overrun."His gaze shifted to the two Northern men."Erek and Davan.Former soldiers of the Northern Reaches, like me."
"Deserters," the older of the two men corrected, his voice gruff but not unkind."Might as well call it what it is.No point in pretty words when the noose would be the same either way."
"Deserters," Jorik agreed with a slight nod."Who found more honor outside the military than within it?"
"Is this your entire group?"Thalia asked, accepting a plate of food that someone had pushed toward her.She hadn't realized how hungry she was until the scent of warm bread and stew reached her."Kaine mentioned you were traveling with others."
"There are fifteen of us in total," Jorik said, reaching for his mug."The others are scattered throughout the keep.Some are helping with repairs, others with the wounded.We don't sit idly well."
The younger Northern man—Erek, Thalia recalled—cleared his throat."Fourteen," he said, his voice soft but firm."We're fourteen now."
A shadow passed over Jorik's face, the light in his eyes dimming like a candle caught in a sudden draft."Right.Fourteen."He set down his mug, his knuckles whitening briefly around the handle."We lost Evara two weeks ago.Just before we reached the sanctuary of Frostforge's walls."
Kaine placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, a silent gesture of comfort that spoke volumes about the relationship they were rebuilding.Thalia felt a sharp pang of sympathy.She knew too well the hollow ache of watching comrades fall to the Deep Tide, the guilt that clung like tar to survivors.
"I'm sorry," she said, the words inadequate but necessary."Were you close?"
"She joined us three months ago," Jorik said after a moment, his voice steadier than the grief in his eyes would suggest."A fisherwoman from the archipelago.She spotted the black waters moving inland before anyone else.Her keen eyes gave us time to evacuate a small village before the tide reached it."His jaw tightened."We were less than a day's journey from Frostforge when we were ambushed by a patrol—not Deep Ones, but Northern military.They recognized Erek and me.Evara...she created a diversion.Gave us time to escape."
The young storm-caller, Lyra, spoke for the first time, her accent marking her as a native of the archipelago despite her youth."She knew what she was doing," she said, her voice carrying the distinctive melodic quality of the Isle Wardens."She chose her path."
"We all choose our paths," Jorik agreed, raising his mug in a subtle toast."But some paths are harder to walk than others."
A moment of silence fell over the table, a pocket of quiet reverence in the otherwise noisy hall.Thalia used the pause to take a few bites of food, hoping the hot stew might chase away some of the persistent chill that had clung to her bones since her awakening.
As she ate, she observed the group with renewed interest.There was something about them—a cohesion that transcended their obvious differences.Northern and Southern, continental and Warden, they moved together with the fluid awareness of people who had faced danger as a unit.
"Jorik's told me something of your travels," she said when the silence had stretched long enough."How you've survived in the wilds, facing threats from all sides."
Jorik nodded, some of the shadow lifting from his expression."We've had our share of close calls.The Deep Tide is the most dangerous, of course, but hardly the only threat.Isle Warden raiding parties still attack isolated settlements, not realizing or not caring that they share a common enemy with the mainland.The Northern military hunts deserters like us with more fervor than they pursue the actual darkness that threatens to consume us all."A note of bitterness crept into his voice."And we've encountered refugee bands who would sooner steal our supplies than join forces."
"Yet you survived," Thalia observed."Fourteen of you, against odds that have broken larger, better-equipped groups."
"We survived because we adapted," Jorik said, his eyes meeting hers with sudden intensity."Because we stopped clinging to old ways and old hatreds when they no longer served us.We learned from each other.Combined our strengths."
"A fusion of magics," Davan said, speaking for the first time.His voice was deeper than Erek's, rich with the distinctive accent of the far Northern reaches."That's what saved us more times than I can count."
Thalia felt a jolt of recognition, a sudden connection between his words and the fragments of knowledge still floating in her mind."Fused magics?"she repeated, leaning forward with renewed focus."What kind of combinations?"
Jorik's expression brightened with genuine enthusiasm."We've developed several techniques over the months.Lyra's storm-calling abilities combined with Northland cryomancy create effects neither discipline could achieve alone."He glanced at the young storm-caller."Show her the ice-spark."
Lyra hesitated, glancing around the crowded hall."Here?"
"Just a small demonstration," Jorik assured her."Nothing that will draw too much attention."
The young woman nodded and extended her palm, holding it flat above the table.Tiny arcs of electricity danced between her fingers—a controlled display of storm magic that reminded Thalia of what had happened during her coma.
Then, with her other hand, Lyra made a gesture Thalia recognized from cryomancy training.A thin layer of frost formed on her electrified palm, but instead of the electricity dissipating as one might expect when ice and lightning met, the two elements merged.The frost crystals began to glow with inner blue-white light, and tiny sparks jumped between them in intricate patterns.
"We call it frost-lightning," Jorik explained as Thalia watched, transfixed."Only our storm-callers are able to do it, since it requires storm magic; Erek and Davan know cryomancy from their days here at Frostforge, so they taught it to the rest of us.At least, the basics.”Jorik nodded to the electrified crystals in Lyra’s palm.“When cast offensively, this creates sheets of electrified ice that can cut through Deep One tendrils like a heated blade through butter.But more than that—it seems to cauterize them somehow, prevent them from reforming."He leaned forward, lowering his voice."We've found ways to create hailstorms charged with lightning that can be directed at specific targets.Ice projectiles that ride wind currents with unnatural precision.Even defensive walls of ice strengthened by electrical currents that the black waters can't easily penetrate."
