Chapter 7: Hard Times.

Still unaware of anything, Kailen returned to Freljord. The Claw of Winter began to gather under a single purpose, hungry for battle and the riches that the coming war promised. The Bear's Fang had become truly rich in resources, but they were not the only ones getting rich, the entire village around them was. The Ursin tribe, obeying Volibir's order, joined the Hladoronian army. The huge troops were hungry for plunder, and their harvest began. A multitude of troops began to plunder and burn settlements. They had new weapons that gave them superiority over everyone else. They were able to bring out sleds to hunt the dangerous beasts of Freljord, predators designed to kill the enemy.

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They were armored and became ruthless monsters on the battlefield. They could not escape, and their keen sense of smell allowed them to track their prey at any distance.

Kylen's party finally reached the territory of Freljord and approached the boars. Storms had been frequent in the region lately. Volibir was to blame for causing them. Their vision was limited, and they had to navigate by instinct and only approximate objects that were not covered in snow.

Kylen felt an uneasiness deep in his heart, as if danger was closing in on them, and thanks to the knowledge imparted by his teacher, he had honed that feeling into himself. They could sense the danger. Even the animals were restless.

"Something's wrong," Kylen said aloud.

"What do you mean?" Jorund asked.

"We're in danger. Alert everyone, I'll check the area." he replied.

With that, he jumped off his boar and began to create an icy trail in front of him as he accelerated forward. Kylen stopped after a dozen meters.

His eyes began to glow brightly with a blue light, and the blizzard that had violently blocked his entire view began to subside. A few meters ahead he saw frozen wolves and riders with spears and bows. Opening his eyes wide, he saw for the first time that these saddled animals were not of his clan. They, too, noticed him and began to approach him from all directions.

"There were three riders in all, strange that they were in front, the trail of their scent that the boar could smell must be behind them. Are there really more of them? They're just surrounding us," Kylen thought.

His hands began to form magic. Raising his hands slightly above his head, he brought his palms down sharply on the snow, pouring a great amount of power into it. The Frost Wyverns almost approached him as ice replicas began to emerge from the snow, piercing the animals. They howled, and the snow turned red. The riders survived and almost immediately jumped from the animals, arrows and spears in hand, which they used immediately. Deftly dodging them, he charged at the enemy.

Sliding over the ice that formed beneath him, he sliced through the brigand's legs, the iceball he had created waiting for him below. Kylen plunged it into his opponent's eye, killing him instantly. The bandit didn't have time to realize anything before he lost his life.

The others froze in surprise at what had happened so quickly. When they saw the warrior coming towards them, they tried to defend themselves, but it was too late. With a powerful fist to the face, he knocked another bandit off his feet, and without stopping, he dodged the lunge of his spear, smashing the shaft of the weapon with a swing of his foot. Grabbing the neck, he instantly froze it, and with a squeeze of his hand he shattered the neck, sending the head flying from the torso and landing nearby. He picked up the broken shaft and threw it at him. The tip hit the poor man in the chest as he tried to get up.

Without further ado, he made his way back to his troop. Fear pounded in his heart, and he spared no effort to rejoin his own. Even through the blizzard, he could hear the shouts and the sound of metal clashing.

When he broke through the snow that obscured his view, he found that his group was already surrounded. The attackers were many, and most of them were on frozen boars. The boars were stronger than the wolves and were able to drive off the attackers and hold off the onslaught, but they were outnumbered.

Immediately, Kailen entered the fray and began to deal with any bandits who dared to attack their caravan. He was ruthless and brutal in killing the bandits. Not long ago, he would have acted differently, killing quickly and painlessly, but his magic had an effect he was almost unaware of. The cold gradually overwhelmed his senses, and he had no regrets about dying.

Freezing his opponent's legs, he crushed them with a kick of his foot. The brigand collapsed on the snow, half of his body writhing in pain, and only a sword stroke from Jorund put an end to his suffering.

*Hryu* *squeal*.

Screams erupted from Drago's boar as he was tormented by the frosty wyverns digging into his hide. It was covered with many wounds. Kylen wanted to rush to his pet, but he was bound to the battle and could not leave his own to fight without his help. The glow in his eyes intensified as he pressed his palms together, concentrating ice magic. The elemental's power began to suck in the surrounding snow. When he had accumulated enough power, he fired a frost beam, freezing the riders and their beasts. His companions had no choice but to finish them off.

He rushed to his pet's aid and created an ice sword. He felt a small emptiness inside. His powers were not infinite, and sooner or later he would tire of using magic. Then his weapon would be his own body, which possessed incredible strength.

The vulture that was clawing at Drago's neck with its teeth suddenly froze. Kylen's sword pierced its neck. With lightning speed, he released his boar, but it stopped struggling and just lay there, breathing heavily and moaning in pain. It needed help, but he couldn't help it yet. All the enemies had to be dealt with.

His comrades had almost finished off all the riders and melee fighters, only the archers remained, but seeing their own defeat, they began to retreat in haste, firing as they went. To give chase would be a mistake, they had wounded men who needed help.

When the battle was over, he went to Drago, who had already lost a lot of blood. He froze all the bites he could find and the open wounds from the wyvern's claws and teeth. He pulled out his potion vials and poured them into Drago's mouth.

"Drink, it will help you," Kylen said. Drago drank heavily, but his condition did not improve. The beast was large, and the amount he drank had no effect on him. His strength was slowly leaving his body.

"Be patient for a while, we have to get home," Kylen said, snuggling up to his pet's head.

"Oink oink oink," the boar mumbled, his eyelids drooping until he fell into an eternal sleep.

"Drago, wake up," Kylen's lips whispered, but he remained motionless.

An icy tear rolled down his cheek, shattering into shards. His lips pressed tightly together, he stared coldly at the dead body. Rising to his feet, he summoned the last of his magic and applied it to his friend's head. As it began to freeze, the body was covered in ice. In an instant, it shattered into ice dust that scattered to the wind. He was born in Freljord, in these lands, and left the world.

"Kylen, we must move," said Jorund. Kylen nodded, knowing he couldn't stay here. They might get reinforcements, or other raptors might try their luck.

No one else in the group was killed, only wounded. They quickly healed each other and continued on their way.

"We will proceed with extreme caution," Hurt said.

The caravan that led the scouts forward was equipped with a horn that could sound an alarm and warn their own. They relaxed a bit, for they had almost reached a village by the side of the road. A border clan lived here, and they were in alliance and trade with them. It was a resting place and a place to sell some of their goods.

The first bad sign was that the scouts came back worried.

"Hurt, we see black smoke ahead, we didn't see any patrols, maybe something happened in the village," the scout reported.

"Weapons at the ready, let's stay focused," Hurt ordered.

The closer the squad got, the clearer the situation became. The bodies of the guards lay at the gate, and many arrows and spears were lodged in the dilapidated gate. Through the broken gate, they entered a village that was nearly burned to the ground. Right in front of the gate were a large number of slain warriors. They had put up a fight and held off the enemy's advance, but it looked like the forces were not on their side. Strangely, there were no bodies of the bandits around. They definitely wouldn't have left without casualties, so they must have taken them with them.

"They had thirty selected fighters and could also use dozens of archers when they lost," Hurt said in amazement.

"The patrols were followed by the riders and attacked under the veil of the storm. They took them by surprise and easily reached the village unnoticed, and the frost wolves can knock down the gate, as the claws on the wood show," Kylen said as he examined the gate.

"The bandits have never been this ruthless," Hurt commented. Despite their raids on the settlement, they were careful not to slaughter the villagers, only to loot them so they could return next time. - Go around the village and look for survivors.

They spread out and began to enter the houses, but every door was kicked in and there were cold bodies inside. They left no one behind.

"There are no survivors," one of the warriors said sadly. They had stopped here many times and knew many of those they had found.

"Take the bodies to the center, prepare the pyre. They deserve a proper burial," Hurt ordered.

The party dragged the bodies of all the villagers and built a communal bonfire.

"You were honorable men, and you lived by honor. Know that we will find those who did this," Hurt said, holding up a torch and lighting the wood.

All had sad faces. They had recently seen the inhabitants and children walking here, and now their journey was over. Sigrun went up to Jorund and took his hand. He was surprised at first and wanted to say something, but met Sigrun's sullen gaze and just stood there in silence. At times like this you realize that time is fleeting and sometimes you don't even have time to do what you want to do.

They did not stay in the village, but left it and found a place to build their own camp. Habits and traditions were strong, and they believed they would meet the same fate as the locals if they slept inside. 

They saw only one of the settlements that had been attacked. Fighting was going on all around, and many people were dying. Volibir had longed for this for so many years, and once again survival would begin: the weak would die and the strong would grow stronger. He encouraged his followers to go into battle again and again. The goddess Anivia saw so much sacrifice. She loved the people and helped them in any way she could. She chased away the Frost Wolves, hid the paths from the enemy, helped them find their way home, but she could not divide herself and be everywhere. 

So she decided to turn to her brother Orn, the oldest and eldest of the gods. After the battle with Volibir, he locked himself in his forge and worked non-stop. He forged weapons, creating true masterpieces, but they only added up to a huge pile of swords, axes and other weapons, only to be melted down and reborn into something else.

The mighty ram stood behind the anvil, swinging his hammer to strike. With each blow, the heated metal spat sparks and took shape. As the temperature dropped, primordial fire spewed from Orn's mouth, reheating the metal.

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A snow-white phoenix flew into the forge, it was made of real ice, it was the goddess Anivia. With her appearance, she accidentally cooled the blade. Orn grumbled unhappily.

"It's just trash now, you couldn't wait until I was done," Orn said with a grunt as he threw the piece of metal away.

"Forgive me brother, I disturbed your peace for a reason," Anivia said.

"What brings you to my home? - Orn asked. With a grunt, he began to fan the fire in the forge, which had begun to die down due to his sister's presence.

"Our brother is too mad to destroy all Freljordians who don't live by his traditions," Anivia admitted. She felt for every soul that died, the goddess bound by her own rules. A desire to help the innocent, but she couldn't kill those responsible.

"I have not heard the crack of his claws or his fierce growl, unless he attacks the humans himself, I will not interfere," Orn replied. Their last battle had destroyed the human clan he had grown so fond of. He feared that their fight would lead to even greater tragedies.

"Then at least help with your weapons, Volibir is actively helping to subdue the Frost Lions and helping his tribe, many villages have already died because of this, they are not stopping anyone, just a dead wasteland," Anivia said in a more boisterous voice. Her voice revolted nature, and the frost once again extinguished the flames in the furnace.

"Then I will help those in need, but I don't want my weapons to become something that leads to the death of one side, I will only make shields and armor, not weapons," Orn replied.

"That will be enough. Then you can create armor that will be resistant to the wearer's cold, and so strong that wounds will not be known, and their weight will be so insignificant that it will be as if they did not exist," said Anivia suddenly.

"Hmm, so you hope that the one you've chosen can protect everyone?" Orn asked.

"His name is Kylen, and he will be the one to unite the tribes of the Coldborn and put an end to the senseless wars between the clans," Anivia said.

"I hope your faith will be vindicated," Orn replied, and continued to create. Everything he created was of the highest quality. He could not allow poor quality to come from his hand.

«Надеюсь, ваша вера будет оправдана», — ответил Орн и продолжил творить. Все, что он создавал, было высочайшего качества. Он не мог допустить, чтобы низкое качество исходило от его рук.

While the gods decided the fate of the humans, Kailen's party set out again after a night's rest. On their way, they encountered more ruined villages, and the scene was just as horrible. They kept all the inhabitants, and so it was a week before they reached home.

"Finally we are home," Jorund said. Next to him was Sigrun. In the last week their relationship had improved and she had even partially forgiven him. For the time being, she allowed him to be near her and to talk to her.

"Yes," Kylen agreed.

He was more worried than ever, all these attacks were taking a heavy toll on him. He was afraid to go back and see the same picture, a devastated village. But he saw his house undamaged. The village had grown considerably in that time, the simple wooden fence replaced by an imposing stone wall, the stones held together by his ice. In many ways, he was the one who built the present village of Bear's Fang.