The muskoxen cut through the thick evergreen forest as easily as a school of fish through water. For their riders, the prickly pine needles and branches were as uncomfortable as they were excruciating. The occasional branch knocked off the occasional rider, so Frost took up the rear, looking out for strays.

The trek was long and arduous, but everyone was happy to be free. Free from death, free from losing more loved ones, and free from the Flintlock. For now, anyway.

The enemy troops seemed to be so busy throwing everything they had at the building Frost formerly thought to be Hailstone Keep. They were so busy, in fact, that they didn't even bother coming after Frost and the escaped prisoners. Not right away, at least.

Frolick didn't join the group on the escape route up the ridge of the valley. Instead, he insisted on double-backing to find Molly after entrusting the child to one of the travelers. Molly was waiting further south, away from battle. Frolick agreed with Quartus to rendezvous at a set point on the other side of the hills. Frolick would meet them there, circling around the valley through a pass Quartus pointed out to him on the map.

In the meantime, Frost shepherded the group in an upward inclined hike up the side of the hill. Thankfully, the hill was coated in trees, which provide some semblance of cover.

"We call this the Valley of Sundered Rock," Quartus said, walking his muskox near Frost's. He mumbled as he spoke, holding tightly onto the animals. He gripped its fur like the reins of a horse. "The River Tempus cuts right through the valley, carving out two separate sets of hills, one from the other.

"That's an odd name," Frost said, his lips forming a line.

"Really?" Quartus said, tilting his head. "I always thought it was quite profound."

"How do you figure?" Frost said.

"Tempus means time in the old language," Quartus said. "Life flows through time, carving a path between twin eternities—heaven and hell—like the two sides of this mountain pass."

Frost grimaced. He wasn't expecting that. That was deeper than he cared to ponder the moment. All he wanted now was to get to safety. Not to philosophize.

"The look on your face says you don't agree? Do you not believe in the afterlife?" Quartus said.

"It's not that," Frost said. Five, Quartus would think him shallow. "I meant that it was strange to call it a river," Frost said, pointing in the direction of the small muddy stream. "It's more of a stream if that."

Quartus chuckled aloud, his belly rumbling under his shirt. His lips curled upward, and his neck muscles loosened. "It's about time you had your answers, Frost. I owe you that much for saving our skins. And the show is about to start now, anyway." He peered up at the sun as if discerning something.

Frost furrowed his brows. This was making no sense whatsoever. Time for what?

Quartus ground his muskox to a halt. The group was close to the top of the hill. From their vantage, they had a clear view of the massive company of Flintlock and the dilapidated fort that continued to take a beating. The infantry looked restless. Several squads were beginning to advance toward the structure.

"You are a Frostmarked, are you not?" Quartus asked.

Frost nodded.

"But not a trained one by the look of it," Quartus said. "You have raw power but little restraint."

Frost grimace. Five, what was he getting at?

"A frost mage," Quartus said, continuing. "Doesn't fight to kill. A mage's power is hidden. Subtle. Blending in with the world around it. As if it were never there."

"Surely, self-defense is needed?" Frost said. "You'd be dead now if we hadn't acted."

"Indeed," Quartus said, nodding. "I am grateful that you saved our lives. I am not saying you were wrong to intervene. I would have done so had I the opportunity and strength in this circumstance. All I am saying is that it is not the best option if it can be avoided. The hidden way is preferred."

Frost jerked his head. Something dawned on him. His quest to find the frost mages. Perhaps he'd found what he was looking for. "Are you a frost mage?"

"Me?" Quartus said. "Yes, yes, I suppose you could say that."

Frost's eyes widened. "You set the water on fire then?"

"No," Quartus said. "That was Alta. She's trained in enflueragy. Turns out to be very useful in this sort of thing. I'm more of a big picture person myself."

Alta created fire? That was interesting. "How in the Five did she do it?"

"Oh, her family runs a distillery," Quartus said. "They produce oils for lamps. You can ask her about it when you see her next. She is very skilled."

Frost stroked his chin. It made sense. He'd only ever seen frost magic used to solidify water into a hard substance. But the idea of transforming it into another liquid was a clever take on the magic. So long as the frost mage was intimately familiar with the object being formed, it could be pulled into being. It apparently didn't have to be solid mass like he'd always assumed. Five, why hadn't he thought to test that before?

If Alta could produce oils, then she could pull them into form and then burn them. Five, what an amazing ability.

"Speaking of Alta," Quartus said. "Take a look." He pointed out to the company of Flintlock.

Frost squinted his eyes to get a better look. There was smoke rising from their camp. Something had broken out, leaving a small plume of smoke like a rising gray mushroom. "Is that Alta's doing?" Frost asked.

"It is indeed," Quartus said. "As I said, we typically try to be subtle, but every once in a while we need to take more direct action."

"What is going on then?" Frost said.

"Why we're burning their supplies, of course," Quartus said, smiling.

Suddenly, there was an explosive eruption that sounded like a bursting volcano. Fire burst out in a shower of flames that lit up the sky and the surrounding camp. Soldiers screamed in fear as the fire tore through the camp, dispersing them in panic. The earth itself was scorched black and red from the deaths caused by the conflagration.

"There supplies," Frost said, raising an eyebrow. "Is that all you're burning?"