Chapter Forty-Two (TIBK)

The deep, rhythmic THRUM pulsed through the frigid air, resonating in Eirik's bones.

It wasn't a sound made by troll lungs or clubs. It came from beneath their feet. From the mountain itself. Or from the source the shaman guarded.

Then, they emerged.

Not four. Not six.

A solid wall of white fur, tusks, and rock-hard muscle poured from the large cave mouth. Eight massive warrior trolls, easily twelve feet tall, their faces twisted with primal fury, clubs already swinging. They filled the entrance, a living avalanche.

Behind them, Eirik glimpsed smaller, hunched figures – more worker trolls, clutching jagged rocks, crude spears made from ice-bound branches.

An entire warband. Held in reserve. The shaman called its full strength.

Frost take Flint and his lies! Seventy-three men against this?

"TALONS! TO ME!" Eirik roared, his voice cutting through the trolls' bellows and the ominous thrumming. He sprinted away from the ritual site, towards the steepest section of the slope overlooking the defile. "HIGH GROUND! NOW!"

The command was unexpected, but discipline held. Leif yelled orders, rallying Thirteen, Twenty-Nine, Bjorn, and the others. They broke from their positions, scrambling desperately uphill, arrows and rocks whizzing past as the Trap Group laid down harassing fire.

The trolls saw the retreat and redoubled their charge. One warrior, club raised, closed the distance terrifyingly fast on the lagging Talon – Thirteen. He stumbled.

No! Not another!

Eirik skidded to a halt, whirled, and focused. He visualized not a weapon, but a barrier. Simple, crude. A knee-high wall of jagged ice spikes erupting right in the charging troll's path. A speed bump. A distraction.

[MANA EXPENDED: 2]

[MANA: 15/25]

[ITEM: Conjured Ice Spike Trap (F-Grade) - Low Durability]

Frost mist bloomed and solidified. Rows of sharp, translucent ice spikes, each a foot tall, sprang from the frozen earth directly before Thirteen. The troll, committed to its charge, slammed a massive foot down.

CRUNCH!

Ice shattered, but the troll lurched violently, momentum broken. It roared in pain and surprise, pulling its bleeding foot free.

Thirteen scrambled past, wide-eyed, joining the others racing up towards Eirik's position. Gained seconds.

Eirik reached the spot he'd scoped out during initial observation. A natural ledge, about thirty feet above the ritual site and troll caves, backed by a near-vertical rock face. Below was a steep, snow-covered slope.

This is it.

"Shield wall here! Crouch! Hold them!" Eirik commanded the first Talons scrambling up. "Leif! Get them braced! Yorick! Stay behind them! Watch the shaman!"

Leif, understanding blossoming on his grim face, slammed his shield into the snow beside Eirik. "SHIELD WALL! FORM UP! PROTECT THE COMMANDER!"

Men shoved into position, overlapping shields creating a fragile crescent on the ledge. They were panting, terrified, but their training held. Bjorn and Helga joined the flanks, swords ready. Thirteen, Twenty-Nine, and the crossbowmen scrambled behind the shield wall, frantically reloading.

The trolls reached the base of the slope below Eirik's position. They looked up, eyes burning with hatred. The slope was steep, maybe forty-five degrees, covered in deep, churned snow. Difficult footing, even for them. The Ice-Spike Troll was limping but still furious. The others bunched together, letting out guttural challenges.

Eight massive targets, clustered below.

"FROSTFIRE! ON THE CLUSTER! VOLLEY!" Eirik yelled towards the Trap Group.

Clay spheres trailing smoke rained down.

WHOOSH... CRACK-FOOM! CRACK-FOOM!

Blue-white explosions blossomed amidst the trolls. One roared as flames engulfed its legs. Another staggered back, fur smoking. Ice-armor hissed and cracked under the intense cold-fire.

But the trolls were enraged. They started lumbering up the slope, ploughing through snow, claws digging for purchase. Slow, but terrifyingly unstoppable. The shield wall wouldn't hold against a concerted charge for long.

Time to build.

Eirik spun away from the ledge. He needed an instant fortress. Something elevated, defensible, giving his men a killing ground. He closed his eyes for a split second, pushing fatigue aside.

He raised his hands, palms facing the empty space just beyond the shield wall.

"Commander, what are you—?" Leif started, his eyes widening as frost began to swirl around Eirik's hands.

Foundation first. Eirik poured his will into the vision. He needed a solid base, wider than the ledge, anchored deep. A flat platform, maybe ten feet across, extending out over the slope. Simple slab. Thick. Stable. Anchor it to the bedrock.

[MANA EXPENDED: 3]

[MANA: 12/25]

[ITEM: Conjured Ice Platform - Foundation (F-Grade)]

The air crackled. Thick mist of condensed cold erupted in the designated space. It swirled violently, thickening into blue-grey ice. With a low groan, a massive slab of solid ice, ten feet wide, fifteen feet long, and three feet thick, materialized. It slammed down onto the slope just beyond the ledge, half-burying itself into the frozen earth. Its surface was rough but perfectly level. A stable foundation.

"By the Frost..." Yorick breathed, scrambling back as cold radiated off the new structure.

The climbing trolls paused, momentarily confused by the sudden appearance of the huge ice block.

Step one done. Now height and access.

Eirik ignored the gasps. He visualized the next component – a solid staircase rising from behind his shield wall, leading up onto the platform. Narrow steps, steep. Only wide enough for one man at a time.

[MANA EXPENDED: 2]

[MANA: 10/25]

[ITEM: Conjured Ice Staircase (F-Grade)]

Frost bloomed again. Ice surged upwards from the ledge, forming a crude but functional set of six steep steps that climbed directly onto the new platform.

"Leif! Get half the archers UP! NOW! Cover the slope!"

Leif snapped into action. "ARCHERS! UP THE STAIRS! NOW! RAIN HELL ON THOSE UGLIES!"

The designated crossbowmen scrambled up the glistening ice steps onto the platform. They stumbled slightly on the unfamiliar, cold surface but quickly gained footing. The view was suddenly commanding. They looked down on the trolls struggling up the slope.

"LOOSE!" Leif bellowed.

THWUNK! THWUNK! THWUNK! THWUNK!

Bolts hissed down. The elevated angle made a difference. One punched through a troll's thigh. Another struck a shoulder joint. The trolls roared, shielding their heads, their climb slowing further.

Good. But they'll get closer.

Eirik stepped onto the platform himself. He needed a parapet. Not a full wall yet, but a chest-high barrier along the front edge, facing the slope. Solid ice, thick enough to stop a troll-thrown rock or provide cover.

He focused his will on the leading edge of the platform.

[MANA EXPENDED: 3]

[MANA: 7/25]

[ITEM: Conjured Ice Parapet Wall (F-Grade)]

Ice erupted upwards from the platform's edge. It thickened and grew rapidly, forming a solid, four-foot-high wall of dense blue ice along the entire front of the platform. It wasn't pretty, but it was thick and functional. Thirteen immediately ducked behind it after firing, reloading in relative safety. Cover achieved.

The trolls were halfway up the slope now, slowed by snow, Frostfire burns, and arrows, but still coming. Their roars were deafening, filled with berserk fury. One particularly large warrior, leading the pack, slammed its club into the slope, sending showers of snow and rock towards the platform.

Need to break their momentum.

Time for obstacles. Eirik looked at the slope below the platform. Make it treacherous. Make them stumble. He visualized simple, thick ice pillars, jagged and uneven, erupting randomly across the slope below. Not to kill, but to trip, block, and channel them into kill zones.

[MANA EXPENDED: 2]

[MANA: 5/25]

[ITEM: Conjured Ice Obstacles (F-Grade) - Multiple Pillars]

Frost surged across the slope. Thick pillars of ice, ranging from three to six feet high, burst from the ground like jagged teeth. They appeared randomly, creating an obstacle course between the climbing trolls and the platform. One troll stumbled hard, crashing into a pillar, showering itself with ice fragments. Another had to awkwardly detour. The charge fragmented, losing cohesion.

Perfect. Slows them down. Forces them into smaller groups.

Eirik glanced back. The Trap Group was still peppering the trolls, but running low on bolts. He saw Olaf's group, now free as the four canyon trolls were finally being overwhelmed, starting to move down towards the main fight. Reinforcements coming. Need to hold.

He was dangerously low on mana. Only five left. Regeneration was agonizingly slow – he felt the faint trickle, but it wouldn't be enough for more grand constructions soon.

"Commander!" Yorick yelled from behind the shield wall. "The shaman! It's... it's doing something! To the mountain!"

Eirik spun. The shaman had stopped shrieking. It stood rigid, staff plunged deep into the ritual ground near its cave entrance. The crystal tip glowed with intense, pulsing blue-white light. The rhythmic THRUM intensified, vibrating the air, making Eirik's teeth ache.

Fracture lines, glowing with the same cold light, began to spiderweb across the rock face above Eirik's ice fortress and shield wall.

Oh, Frost damn it. It wasn't attacking them directly. It was trying to bring the mountain down on them!

"ROCKFALL! ABOVE!" Eirik roared the warning. Panic rippled through the Talons on the platform and behind the shields. They looked up at the cracking cliff face.

Need cover! Massive cover! Now!

He couldn't stop the mountain falling, but he could try to deflect it. He visualized the strongest thing he could muster with his remaining mana: a massive, thick, sloping ice awning extending outwards and upwards from the platform and the ledge shield wall, angled to shed falling rock and debris.

Everything I have left.

[MANA EXPENDED: 3]

[MANA: 2/25]

[ITEM: Conjured Ice Overhang - Heavy Deflector (F-Grade)]

With a draining surge of his will, Eirik poured his mana out. Frost erupted above them like a frozen wave. Thick, opaque blue ice, layered and heavy, surged upwards and outwards from the top of the parapet wall and the rock face behind the shield wall.

It formed a massive, crude, but incredibly thick canopy, angled sharply at about sixty degrees, covering the entire ice platform and most of the ledge shield wall position below it. It groaned under its own sudden weight but held, anchored into the rock and the platform structure.

CRRRRAAAAACKKK-BOOOOOM!

The shaman shrieked in triumph. A huge section of the cliff face, weakened by the pulsing energy, sheared off directly above them. Tons of rock, ice, and debris thundered down.

KRAKOOM!

The avalanche slammed onto the heavy ice awning. The impact was deafening, shaking the entire structure. Cracks spiderwebbed violently across the thick ice canopy, and chunks sheared off, cascading harmlessly down the outside slope. But the core held. The angled design worked.

The deadly cascade roared over the ice shield, showering past the platform and ledge, crashing harmlessly onto the slope below, burying some of Eirik's ice obstacles and forcing the climbing trolls to scramble back momentarily.

Silence fell, thick with dust and ringing ears. Snow and rock fragments skittered off the ice canopy. The structure groaned but stood. The Talons on the platform and the ledge stared around, stunned, unharmed. A ragged cheer started, then swelled into a roar.

"THE COMMANDER'S ICE! IT HELD!"

Frost take me... Eirik sagged against the parapet, utterly drained. Mana exhaustion washed over him, cold and hollow. Every muscle trembled. Two Mana. But they were alive. Sheltered.

He looked down. The trolls below were enraged but confused, milling about in the rubble at the base of the slope, temporarily thwarted by the rockfall and the now-imposing ice fortress looming above them. The shaman stared, its earlier triumph replaced by pure, incandescent fury. Its staff trembled. The thrumming energy subsided.

"Commander!" Olaf bellowed, leading a group of panting, bloodied Talons – the survivors of the canyon fight – scrambling up the slope towards the ledge shield wall. "We're here! Where do you want us?"

Eirik forced himself upright, pushing through the exhaustion.

"Olaf! Get your men behind the shields! Leif, get more archers onto the platform! Every crossbow we have!" His voice was raw but commanding. "Fisk! Where's Fisk? FROSTFIRE! Bring up every damn bomb!"

The Talons surged into action, energized by the miraculous defense. Olaf's men bolstered the shield wall. More crossbowmen scrambled up the ice stairs onto the platform, joining Thirteen and Twenty-Nine.

The view from the platform was now a commander's dream. Below, at the foot of the fortified slope, milled the bulk of the troll force – ten enraged, ice-armored warriors, plus the injured limper, plus a few worker-types huddled fearfully near the cave entrances. All trapped in a deadly funnel formed by the natural slope, Eirik's remaining ice obstacles, and the rubble from the avalanche.

The trolls looked up at the bristling ice fortress. They saw the shields. They saw the crossbows leveled over the ice parapet. They saw the cold determination on human faces. And they saw Eirik, standing tall on his frozen battlements, the Skyfrost Cloak swirling around him like a banner of defiance.

"NOW, TALONS!" Eirik's voice rang out, cold and sharp as his conjured ice. "LET THEM KNOW THE PRICE OF THIS MOUNTAIN! VOLLEY FIRE! FROSTFIRE ON MY MARK!"

"LOOSE!" Leif and Olaf roared simultaneously.

THWUNK-THWUNK-THWUNK! A storm of bolts hissed down from the platform and the ledge. They rained onto the clustered trolls below. Shafts punched into thick hides, glanced off ice-armor, found vulnerable joints. Roars of pain and fury erupted.

"FROSTFIRE! VOLLEY!" Eirik commanded.

From the ledge, Olaf's strongest throwers hurled clay spheres. From the platform, Talons leaned over, dropping bombs directly down. Arcs of smoke trailed.

WHOOSH... CRACK-FOOM! WHOOSH... CRACK-FOOM!

Blue-white fireballs erupted amidst the trolls. Frostfire clung, spread, encased legs, burned fur, hissed violently against magical ice. The trolls were engulfed in a storm of cold flame and whining death. Chaos erupted. They staggered, flailed, tried to bat out the impossible flames, crashed into each other and the jagged ice pillars.

It was a slaughterhouse.

They're beasts at heart, Eirik assessed. Big, strong, but easily spooked without their leader's guidance.

He snapped his gaze to the ritual ground near the shaman's cave. Its beady eyes, like chips of black ice, were fixed not on its dying kin, but directly on him. Pure, distilled hatred radiated from that stare.

Then, it moved.

With a guttural shriek that scraped the very air, the shaman slammed its crystal-topped staff onto the frozen earth. The embedded crystals pulsed once, violently, not blue-white, but deep, unsettling crimson. The pulse traveled down the staff and exploded outward in a visible wave of sickly red energy that washed over the struggling troll warriors below.

The effect was instantaneous and horrifying.

Every troll touched by the crimson wave froze mid-roar, mid-stagger. Their massive bodies shuddered violently. Then, their eyes snapped wide, veins bulging beneath ice-rimed skin, glowing with the same unnatural red.

GRAAAAAGH!!!

A chorus of utterly bestial, mindless roars tore through the valley, shaking snow from distant peaks.

Pain, fear, uncertainty – all were scorched away, replaced by pure, unthinking rage.

Berserk spell! Eirik's gut clenched. Frost's frozen balls, it just burned away their self-preservation!

The transformation was terrifying. A bolt slammed into a troll's forearm, shattering the bone with an audible crack. The troll didn't flinch. It didn't even seem to register the wound. It just roared louder, red eyes fixed on the ice platform above.

Another troll, Frostfire still clinging to its legs, ignored the sizzling flesh and the ice encasing its feet. It simply ripped its legs free with a sickening tear of frozen hide and burning muscle, spraying dark gore onto the snow, and lumbered forward, snarling.

They're ignoring pain, ignoring wounds that should cripple.

Panic flickered across the faces of the Talons on the platform and ledge. Seeing massive creatures shrug off bolts that should have dropped them, advance through Frostfire that should have melted them… it was unnerving.

"HOLD YOUR GROUND!" Olaf bellowed, his own ferocity a bulwark against the tide of fear. "THEY CAN STILL DIE! AIM FOR THE EYES! THE NECK! PUT 'EM DOWN!"

Another volley of bolts hissed down. One struck a berserk troll's eye socket, vanishing deep. The creature stumbled, blinded, but kept moving, swinging its club in wide, deadly arcs.

Another bolt lodged in a troll's thick neck, dark blood gushing. It clutched the shaft, roaring, but didn't slow its charge towards the base of the slope.

The berserk trolls didn't mill anymore. They didn't hesitate. They surged forward as one terrifying mass, driven by the shaman's crimson command. They smashed through the remaining ice pillars like kindling. They plowed through the deep snow with terrifying, single-minded speed.

Their target was clear: the ice platform.

The first troll reached the base of the slope directly beneath the platform's overhang. It ignored the arrows thudding into its back. It didn't look up at the archers. Instead, it reared back and slammed its massive, ice-rimed club into the thick, blue-grey ice supporting the platform's left edge.

WHAM!

The impact resonated through the entire structure like a gong. The ice platform shuddered violently. Thirteen, leaning over the parapet to fire, stumbled and nearly fell. Deep cracks spiderwebbed outwards from the point of impact across the lower portion of the ice foundation.

"IT'S HITTING THE FOUNDATION!" Leif screamed, horror dawning.

WHAM!

Another troll joined the first, swinging its own club with berserk fury against the same spot. Chunks of ice the size of a man's head exploded outward. The cracks deepened, spreading further. The platform visibly sagged an inch.

"FIRE! FIRE AT THEM BELOW!" Olaf roared, pointing frantically. Crossbowmen on the ledge tried to angle down, but it was awkward, dangerous. Bolts glanced off broad backs or shoulders. Frostfire bombs were too risky; dropping them straight down risked blasting the platform supports or showering the Talons in shrapnel and cold fire.

WHAM! WHAM!

Two more berserk trolls focused their fury on the ice base. More cracks appeared. Fine ice dust rained down on the heads of the Talons below the canopy.

Fear was turning palpable. The shield wall on the ledge tightened instinctively. Men glanced upwards, their expressions tight with dawning terror. Their fortress was literally being hammered apart beneath them.

"Olaf! Leif!" Eirik's voice cut through the hammering and the roars. "Listen carefully!"

He pointed a gauntleted finger directly at the berserk trolls hammering the platform. "They're mindless! They only see the platform! Make them see you!"

Olaf's eyes widened, then narrowed with savage understanding. Leif's face paled, but he nodded sharply.

"DISTRACTION!" Eirik emphasized the word. "Loud! Aggressive! Make them angrier! Make them focus every shred of rage on you! Right here! Right NOW!"

Olaf didn't need telling twice. A feral grin split his scarred face. He snatched up his axe and slammed it against his shield. "HEY! UGLY BASTARDS! UP HERE! OLAF'S WAITING!" He bellowed, leaning precariously over the ledge shield wall. "COME ON! TRY SMASHING SOMETHING THAT FIGHTS BACK!"

Leif caught the plan, pushing down his fear. He joined Olaf, banging his sword on his shield. "TALONS! SHOUT! ROAR! MAKE THEM HEAR YOU! THEY WANT A TARGET? GIVE THEM ONE!" His voice, usually calm, rose to a raw shout.

The men, spurred by their leaders, took up the cry. They slammed weapons on shields, roared challenges, screamed insults. The noise level skyrocketed, a focused wave of defiance aimed directly at the berserk trolls below.

WHAM! WHAM!

The trolls paused their hammering. Their red, vacant eyes lifted from the cracking ice. They saw the men now. Saw them shouting, banging, mocking them.

A deeper, even more furious roar erupted from the trolls.

They stopped hitting the platform base and started scrambling up the steep slope towards the ledge shield wall and the yelling Talons, claws digging deep.

The platform groaned, damaged but no longer under immediate, concentrated assault.

Eirik didn't hesitate. He backed away from the parapet, dropping below its line of sight. He turned to Yorick, who was crouched nearby.

"Yorick. Point. The symbols. The entrance. Exactly."

Yorick pointed a shaking finger towards the shaman's cave entrance. "Th-There, Commander! The cave with the swirling symbols… just left of the large one… behind the shaman!"

Eirik followed his gaze. The entrance was about thirty yards away across the open, blood-soaked ritual ground. The shaman stood directly in front of it, radiating crimson energy, its back to the cave, its focus entirely on the berserk trolls charging the ledge and the platform above. The two warrior trolls originally guarding the entrance were gone – likely drawn into the berserk charge.

This is the moment. The only moment.

He pulled the Skyfrost Cloak tight. He focused his will, feeding precious mana into the enchantment.

[MANA EXPENDED: 1]

[MANA: 1/25]

[ACTIVE CAMOUFLAGE ACTIVATED]

The familiar shimmer flowed over him. His form blurred, edges softening into translucent blue-grey mist.

To the cave.

He dropped silently over the back edge of the ice platform, landing in a crouch on the steep slope behind it. The shouting and roaring of the Talons and the trolls was deafening, covering any sound he might make.

He moved sideways along the slope, and reached the edge of the ritual area. The shaman was only fifteen yards away, standing rigidly over its staff plunged into the earth. The crimson energy pulsed visibly from it. The cave mouth yawned darkly behind it, etched with the crude, glowing symbols Yorick had sketched. He could feel the intense cold radiating from it, deeper and more potent than the surrounding air.

Got to get past it without being sensed.

Eirik dropped to his belly, pressing himself flat against the freezing, blood-soaked ground. He crawled, an invisible serpent, moving inches at a time.

It's channeling massive power. Its senses are probably extended outwards, along the spell-lines to its warriors.

He slithered around the perimeter of the bone pile, the frozen, shattered horned beast head inches from his face. The stench was overwhelming. He edged closer to the shaman, giving it a wide berth, aiming for the dark opening just to its left.

Five yards. Three yards.

He paused as the shaman shifted its weight slightly, a low growl rumbling in its chest. Had it sensed something? A ripple in the energy? A misplaced sound? Eirik froze, every muscle locked, his breath held. He willed himself to be part of the ground.

The shaman's head tilted slightly, as if listening. Its free hand flexed, claws scraping against the icy staff shaft. For three agonizing heartbeats, Eirik waited, poised to spring, to strike, though he knew a direct attack now would be suicide against a creature channeling such power.

Then, another berserk roar echoed from the slope, followed by Olaf's defiant bellow. "IS THAT ALL YOU GOT, SNOTLOCKS? MY GRANDMOTHER HITS HARDER!"

The shaman snarled, and its focus snapped back outwards, pouring more energy into its warriors.

Eirik didn't waste a second. He flowed forward on his belly, past the shaman's flank, and reached the cave mouth.

[MANA: 0/25]

[CAMOUFLAGE INACTIVE - Insufficient Mana]

He slipped into the darkness of the cave.