Page 82 of I Ran Away to Evil #3

Wisdom Isn’t an Attribute

Julian

Four Weeks into the North

August was almost over.

“Are you sure you don’t want to head in?” Julian asked. They were alone, lying on the Ice Fields under the full moon.

“Five more minutes.” Gerda snuggled closer to him, running her hands up his chest and playing with the string of his tunic.

They were on top of a pile of enchanted blankets.

The bottom layer had a cooling feature that prevented the heated upper layer from melting the icy ground below.

“It was hard today—there were fourteen assassins clogging up the roads, and I’m starting to get complaints. ”

She showed him a letter with the most politely worded chastisement.

To Miss Gerda Jones,

Due to an increase in traffic disruption on your controlled bridges, the Dark Horde is experiencing delays in all areas of transportation. We would like to inform you that all complaints will henceforth be liable to affect your unit domain registration.

Please deal with any future disturbances in a timelier manner.

Signed,

Keith Monfort of Nilheim, King of the Dark Enchanted Forest

Julian wondered if she wouldn’t let the entire party face Alice head-on for her … and why she hadn’t asked yet.

She breathed slowly, the tension leaving her shoulders. “I love it out here. It’s beautiful.”

“It is.” Julian covered her hand on his chest.

They would start climbing the mountain range tomorrow, but tonight was a date under the northern lights. And while many of the stars weren’t visible through the aurora, one comet shone clear and bright.

“I wonder if Master Thomas is ready yet?” Gerda mused, though she didn’t sound concerned.

Julian grumbled a soft, “He’d better be.”

Five Weeks into the North

They reached a bridge of ice that connected one mountain to the next.

“Once we cross here, we should be clear through the mountain pass,” he told Gerda as he pointed to a peak further south along the mountain range. “That was the path we took last time, and it showed this bridge leading to a staircase that will take us straight down.”

They rarely took the same path twice while searching the mountains because they were always searching new areas for the hidden dungeon, and this trip was no exception.

So far, Julian had barely had the opportunity to search the grounds on the northern tip of the Ice Fields.

Aside from searching the fields, canyons, and the hundreds of caves throughout the mountain range itself, they’d also had to return to deal with monster surges and his mother’s seasonal balls.

There was a five-month stretch between the Winter Feast and the Spring Ball because the winter solstice ushered in larger and more aggressive monster surges than the rest of the year.

The entirety of North Sumbria’s military came out in full force to guard the border. As such, the vassal families and North Sumbria’s elite weren’t free until late spring, so that was when the Spring Ball heralded in the matchmaking season.

“The bridge is secure.” John came back from his inspection and added, “But there are some weak spots. Just don’t—” The sound of cracking split the air.

They all turned around to see Sir Tully, one foot lifting from a spot of splintered ice.

“—step on the white lines,” the rogue finished, his teeth clenched. “Tully!”

“In my defense,” the paladin said, watching the cracks creep forward along the bridge until the entire structure began to crumble and fall. “I didn’t use the war hammer this time.”

“Do you think he has a curse?” Gerda asked. “We should have Chloe check him, just in case.”

He shook his head. “Oh, she’s checked.”

“Wisdom debuff?” Gerda asked in all seriousness.

“Gerda, love”—he paused—“wisdom isn’t an attribute.”

She paused. “Ah, of course. Intelligence? Perception?”

This wasn’t the first time something like that had happened. His troll had strange mannerisms, created foreign foods, and sometimes used incomplete or even false logic. He didn’t know how different the trolls were … but he had long suspected it wasn’t just because she was a troll.

He was thinking she might not even be from Valaria. His suspicions had started when she’d told Feliwyn that she’d only been here for five years, and he’d only found more clues in the weeks since.

There were two other continents … a year’s sail away. Through monster-infested waters.

Maybe her husband had been so terrible that she’d literally chosen to make the journey to get away from him—or sent a bridge in her place. As many scenarios as he could imagine, he hadn’t brought it up; if she wanted to tell him, she would have.

“Chloe has checked for everything ,” Julian told his troll. “The only thing we can’t check is if he annoyed Luck somehow and she’s doing it to him on purpose.”

“I can hear you.” Sir Tully sighed. “You know that, right?”

Eagle wings sprouted from Jeffry’s back as he looked between John and Gerda. “Who am I flying to the other side?”

John stepped forward. “I’ll go.”

“I might be able to make a new one,” Pram said. The ice mage considered the area. “I just need to remember the right spell.”

“Don’t tell me you could have been making bridges with ice magic all along!” Gerda accused.

“Alright.” Pram nodded. “I won’t.”

The selkie eyed the expanse before lifting his hands.

“By the Frost Fae right in … No,” Pram started then shook his head.

“By the Fae Frost, Strike Fast out of Sight, [Ice Arch].” On the last word, ice magic burst forth from the mage’s hands in an arc and hit the other side of the divide.

He carefully dropped the arch on this side to the ground and then used another spell to freeze it fast.

He looked up at them with a smile. “I did it!”

Julian walked over and put a foot on the ice bridge. It was as wide as he was, and didn’t shift under his foot.

“Here, let me.” Gerda placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m the bridge master, after all.”

He nodded and stepped back. Gerda bent down and touched the bridge. “My abilities say it’s a bridge, but it’s not stable. Once I capture it, I can fix that.”

She closed her eyes, and a bluish teal aura settled onto one corner of the structure. She reached out and touched the other corner to set another bridge point before standing. She made her way across slowly, the distance from here to there about forty feet.

When she was just over halfway across, the other side of the bridge shifted and promptly slipped off the mountain’s edge.

Gerda let out an annoyed curse as she dropped. “Oh cr—”

“Jeffry,” Julian instructed, the half elf already in motion. He flew after the troll.

The ice bridge hit a jagged peak jutting from the mountainside, broke into various pieces, and ricocheted into Jeffry, who barely managed to dodge in time.

Gerda didn’t notice their rescue attempt—or didn’t trust them, and portaled away.

Pram looked crestfallen. “I’m sorry; I thought—”

“It’s fine, Pram. These things happen,” Julian said, pretending that his heart wasn’t racing in a terrified panic. “Let’s head back to the save point.”