Ashes of a Black Frost

SEVENTEEN

No one move!” Pimmer hissed, his voice carrying far more authority than Konowa had ever heard.

Feylan stood stock-still with Konowa’s hand frozen on his shoulder.

“You must have triggered it, Major,” Feylan said. “It sounded like it was behind me.”

Konowa looked down at his boots, but could see nothing that indicated a trap. “No. I counted the right number of steps. I didn’t touch anything.”

“You’ve got the elf ears, sir, but I’m telling you I heard it right behind me.”

Konowa started to doubt himself. His hearing was far from perfect. Too many musket volleys and cannon blasts had taken their toll. Maybe Feylan was right. A thought dawned on Konowa and he twisted his body to the left so that he could look back down the steps while keeping his boots rooted to the stone. Pimmer was picking his way carefully through the men on the stairs as he climbed up to Konowa. He stopped a few steps below him and right behind Private Otillo. Konowa counted the steps back to Otillo.

“You stupid, stupid arse. You’re standing on the trigger.”

Otillo looked down then back up. Unbelievably, the soldier’s voice still sounded defiant. “Everything’s iced up. It should have been fine.” Konowa could see why Otillo had been bounced from his previous regiment. The lad refused to learn.

It was all Konowa could do not to fly back down the steps and throttle him. The fool had risked his life and all of theirs because of his don’t-give-a-damn attitude.

“Viceroy, what do we do now?” Konowa asked.

“This is most distressing. I’ll need a moment,” he said, burying his head in the map as he studied it.

“Quickly,” Konowa said. “We’re rather exposed out here.”

“Yes, yes, I do understand the urgency.” He looked up from his map and the expression on his face already told Konowa the answer. “There’s nothing on here about what to do if a trap is triggered.”

“Then I’ll just jump,” Otillo said, crouching in preparation.

“No!” Pimmer shouted. “You could be standing on a swing lever-”

Otillo jumped. The sound of iron pins scraping across stone echoed off the rocks a moment before the stone step he was standing on gave way. The stones plummeted into a dark chasm. Otillo’s momentum would have carried him to safety, but the second part of the trap now released. An iron bar buried in the rock debris and hinged to the stone step swung up and over as the weight of the stones fell. The bar caught Otillo square on the top of his head with a sickening crack, spraying blood ten feet into the air.

Otillo fell without a sound. A moment later the sound of crashing rock reverberated from the hole.

Ignoring Pimmer’s shouts to stay still, Konowa raced to the edge of the hole and looked down. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Even with his elven vision it was difficult to see all the way down, and for that he was thankful. He saw enough to know Otillo was dead. Black frost was already limning his body

“I tried to warn him,” Pimmer said. “I. .”

“It’s not your fault, Pimmer,” Konowa said through clenched teeth, not caring that he hadn’t addressed him by his title in front of the men. “He didn’t listen, and it cost him his life.”

“It’s just that I-”

“We need to keep moving. Now.” Konowa knew his anger was driving his actions, and for the moment he was going to let it. One of his men had been killed because of stupidity, and because he didn’t take his commanding officer’s warning seriously enough. That was not going to happen again.

“Viceroy, if it’s safe, climb up and over the rocks and get back on the steps here. Move.”

Folding up his map, Pimmer clambered over the rocks piled high on either side of the stone stairs and past the gaping hole where Otillo fell. The remaining soldiers quickly followed suit until everyone was bunched up on the far side. Konowa held up a hand for Feylan to wait.

“Otillo’s death is my fault. I told him not to tread on that step and he didn’t listen.”

A couple of the soldiers started to protest this, but he cut them off with a curt wave of his hand. “The next time I give an order and it’s disobeyed the soldier won’t have to worry about a booby trap because I’ll take his head clean off. Is that understood?”

Konowa looked each of them in the eyes. Everyone nodded, including Pimmer.

“I’ll keep lead,” Feylan said. It wasn’t a question.

“You can only push your luck so far,” Konowa said, prepared to choose another soldier to take over for Feylan.

“I’ve come this far and I want to see it through. I don’t know who set these traps, but they aren’t going to beat me. I’ll get us to the top. Safely.”

Konowa could tell the soldier wouldn’t be easily swayed. He could give him a direct order to go to the back of the line and he’d obey, but there was something in his voice that told Konowa that Feylan needed to do this.

“Very well. Private Feylan has lead. Let’s go.”

They moved out silently, each footstep a well chosen affair. Their pace was definitely slower, but Konowa wasn’t going to chasten them. They were all shaken by Otillo’s death, especially because it had been so senseless. It was a harsh lesson to learn, but they were all very keen on counting now.

After a hundred steps Konowa thought about calling for a break. Climbing on ice-coated, uneven steps was bad enough, but looking and listening for signs of a booby trap made it exhausting. Every nerve and muscle was screaming with tension. A small rock tumbled down past Konowa and he almost pulled his saber to stab it.

Easy, easy, he told himself.

He turned his attention back to Feylan, watching where he put each foot. Feylan’s right boot raised and started to swing forward to the next step, but then paused in midair and came back down. Konowa tensed and put up his hand to signal to Pimmer behind him to stop. Feylan crouched down and brought his musket to rest on his hip, the bayonet pointing straight ahead. After several seconds, he quarter-turned so that Konowa could see the side of his face. His jaw was clenched as he whispered out the side of his mouth.

“Rakke. Boulder. Five yards ahead on the right.”

Konowa drew in a breath and froze in place. How was that possible? He hadn’t sensed a thing. He focused on the black acorn and felt its cold power. Yes, there was danger. He’d become so accustomed to the pain of the cold that he hadn’t even noticed it. He inched up the step until his chest was pressed against Feylan’s back and he could rest his chin on his shoulder. He let his gaze travel up the steps and then to the right.

The back of his neck shivered uncontrollably. Feylan was right. Not five yards ahead a rakke crouched on a rock looking down the path they were climbing. How had the beast not seen them?

“Well spotted,” Konowa whispered.

Feylan moved his head just a fraction to the left. “I see three more behind it. And I think there are more behind those.”

The shivering moved to Konowa’s stomach.

He counted over a dozen rakkes perched on boulders. As he looked further up he realized that what he’d taken for more rocks were in fact rakkes. Scores of them. Thoughts of the bravado he’d displayed just a couple of hours before when he’d come up with this plan made him feel foolish. Instead of charging full speed with his saber flashing he wondered if he had just led them all to their deaths. Otillo had already paid the price. Were the others next?

A weight pressed against Konowa’s back and the warm breath of Pimmer thawed his good ear. “Did we find something?”

For a reply, Konowa pointed with his chin while trying to shrug Pimmer’s mouth away from his ear. If they were all about to die the current tableau wasn’t exactly the way Konowa wanted to meet his fate.

“Oh, yes, I see,” Pimmer whispered, patting Konowa on the arm. “Not to worry, I think I know how to deal with this.” Without another word Pimmer bent down, picked up a small rock, stood up and threw it at the nearest rakke.

Konowa was so shocked he couldn’t move. Was the man truly off his nut? The rock missed and rattled around among the boulders. The rakkes appeared not to notice. Before Konowa could act, Pimmer threw a second rock. This time it hit the rakke on the top of its skull and bounced off.

“Stop him, Major,” Feylan whispered, his musket shaking. “He’s going to get us all killed.”

Konowa brought his right arm forward ready to ram an elbow into Pimmer’s face when the rakke moved. Holding his blow in check, Konowa stared in amazement as the rakke leaned forward . Maybe it thought it was the wind, Konowa hoped, knowing that not even a rakke was that stupid. The rakke continued to lean and Konowa was sure it must have seen them. He was starting to call up the frost fire when the beast did the most curious thing and tipped right over and sprawled face-first into the rocks below its boulder.

“Bloody hell,” Feylan said, momentarily forgetting to keep his voice down. “Is he chucking magic rocks?”

Konowa wondered the same thing. The acorn still throbbed with a cold warning. That rakke must have froze to death, but something up ahead was very much alive. He turned to look at Pimmer who was standing erect and smiling grimly. “Just as I suspected,” he said, and pushed past Konowa and Feylan and walked up the steps toward the rakke.

Konowa lunged after him and caught him a few steps up. “What game are you playing at?” he hissed, trying to pull him back.

“It’s dead, Major,” he said, gently patting Konowa’s hand on his arm. “They all are.”

Konowa risked a look at the nearest rakke. A wooden stake was strapped to its back by a length of frayed rope wrapped around its chest. There was a large, fist-sized hole at the base of its skull and its fur was matted with dried blood. The rakke was dead. Someone had placed it on the boulder like a trophy, or a scarecrow. He looked up the hill and now that fear wasn’t clouding his vision he saw that the other rakkes were dead. Every single rakke had been propped on or staked to a boulder.

Throwing caution to the howling wind, Konowa reached out and grabbed the rakke by the shoulder and tried to heave it over onto its back. He got it partway up, but the wooden stake jammed between two rocks preventing him from turning it all the way over. It didn’t matter, he got a clear view of its face. Both eyes had been gouged out, its fangs had been pulled, its throat slit, and its tongue had been pulled down and out through the gaping wound. The wounds looked fresh, like they had been inflicted only a few days ago.

“My elves did this?” Konowa asked. Rakkes were cruel and vicious and most disturbingly, extinct. They had no reason existing in this age. Still, he knew that even at his most battle-crazed, he could never do what he saw before him. Not this. Not torture. He could kill, of that he had no qualms, but there was a bright, burning line deep inside of him that he had never crossed, and had no intention of ever doing so.

“Why did they do that?” Private Feylan asked, his voice quiet again. “What’s the point in torturing them? They don’t know nothing.” The rest of the soldiers had moved up the path to see what was going on and were now staring silently at the corpse.

Konowa’s mind raced. Why indeed?“

A warning, I should imagine,” Pimmer said. “A rather graphic and horrific warning to be sure, but perhaps an effective one. .” he said, his voice trailing off as if he didn’t really believe it.

Konowa wanted to believe it was a warning, but his instincts weren’t cooperating. Whoever did this had acted as cruelly as the rakkes themselves, but something about it was worse. Rakkes were stupid creatures controlled by dark forces. If his elves did this then they were responsible.

“Perhaps we should be moving,” Pimmer said at last, his voice thankfully firm. Konowa wasn’t sure he could deal with sympathy right now.

Without a word he brushed past Private Feylan and took the lead up the stone stairs. Feylan said nothing. Something was alive up here, and they hadn’t found it yet.

Each step higher brought more rakke bodies into view. For every one set out on a boulder there were several more dumped among the rocks. Many appeared to have been tortured. Several had been beheaded. He’d seen enough bodies on battlefields to be hardened to death, but even he wasn’t prepared for what waited around the next corner.

“Oh. .”

A rakke lay tied spread-eagle on the steps, its hands and feet cut off, the stumps black with frozen blood. Two bayonets protruded from its eye sockets, its fangs were splintered, and sections of its hide had been peeled back exposing the muscle beneath.

It was still breathing.

Konowa understood shame and guilt and the rage it built inside an elf. He’d lived with it all his life bearing the Shadow Monarch’s mark. After losing the regiment he thought for a time he might lose himself in the Elfkynan forest. And now he’d condemned the reincarnated Iron Elves to a bond beyond death, and when given a chance to break it, chose not to.

But nothing he’d felt, nothing he’d experienced could ever justify this.

“Do you see some-” Private Feylan started to ask, poking his head around Konowa’s shoulder. He turned away and began to vomit, the sound churning Konowa’s stomach. He might have been sick himself if he’d had anything to eat in the last day.

He drew his saber from its scabbard and stepped forward. Anger at Otillo, at his own foolishness, and his brother elves and what they had become poured out in a savage thrust through the beast’s heart. It convulsed once and then went still. Black frost glittered on the exposed portion of the blade and soon the rakke’s body was engulfed. Konowa stood perfectly still, watching. After several seconds the body of the rakke was consumed and the tip of Konowa’s saber rested against the stone step.

“Major?”

The wind, or maybe it was the sound of the blood in Konowa’s veins, roared in his ears. He wanted to scream, cry, punch, and curl up in a ball all at the same time.

“Major Swift Dragon?”

Konowa blinked. Mechanically, he sheathed his blade and forced himself to turn away. Viceroy Alstonfar’s face swam into view.

“I did this to them,” Konowa said. “It’s because of me they were banished here. They did this because of me.”

Pimmer stepped back in surprise. “Absolutely not. Every man and elf has a choice between good and evil. Circumstances might stack the deck one way or the other, but you still pick the card.”

Konowa looked into Pimmer‘s eyes, searching for the lie. He saw only compassion and honesty. “You really believe that?”

“With every ounce of my being, and that’s a lot of belief.”

Konowa smiled in spite of himself. “I could have used you in the forest a while back.”

“I’m here now, and my advice is that we get off these rocks and in the fort posthaste.”

A gust of wind buffeted Konowa’s shako and he realized he was shivering. “Wise words.” He turned and started to climb the steps, not sure he was prepared for what he might see next but knowing he had to face whatever it was. The rest of the climb happened in a blur. Dead rakkes littered the ground wherever he looked. Eventually, he simply looked down, watching his boots. He forgot about counting. He forgot about the regiment marching across the desert floor heading toward the fort. Thoughts of what his elves had become were still playing in his mind when a shadow loomed before him. He looked up in surprise to see the wall of the fort towering directly above him.

The bottom twenty feet of the wall were comprised of roughhewn boulders joined together like massive blocks. As Konowa craned his head back he saw the stones grew smaller and had been worked more, although the overall appearance was still of something put together rapidly.

“We made it,” Private Feylan said, coming to stand beside Konowa. The other soldiers soon appeared and huddled together. Their faces were pale masks of grim concentration. Konowa imagined they were trying desperately, as he was, to forget what they’d just seen.

“We’re not in yet,” Konowa said, looking to Pimmer.

“But we will be soon,” the diplomat said, walking up to the wall and tracing the cracks between the blocks with a finger. He began counting the blocks from right to left and referring back to the map in his hand. “I do believe I’ve found it,” he said after a minute, stepping back from the wall and pointing to a block four feet tall and three feet wide. He looked down at the ground, took another step back, looked up and counted the blocks again, nodded, and stamped his right boot twice.

“Was something supposed to happen?” Private Feylan whispered to Konowa.

Konowa said nothing, only raising an eyebrow at Pimmer who gave the map another look, spun it ninety degrees before turning it back, and moved over three blocks to the right and pointed at another block of similar dimensions. “Yes, definitely got it this time.” The block shifted back an inch with a puff of dust that was quickly whipped away by the wind.

“Gentlemen, our way in,” he said, stepping forward and giving the block a kick with his boot. It swung backward and disappeared in the dark as if it were on hinges. He reached into his robe and pulled out the small storm lantern. “Now it’s my turn,” he said. He shook the lantern and as its light bloomed he stooped down and walked inside.

Konowa watched the light in the square hole dim as Pimmer walked deeper inside. He realized he was cringing, waiting to hear a loud crack as another fiendish device sprung. When no scream of pain issued forth from the secret passage Konowa pinched the bridge of his nose and blew into his hands for warmth.

“He just. . he just walked right in,” Feylan said, pointing to the opening with his musket. “Just kicked it open and went in like it was his town’s tavern.”

“Seems he finally figured out which way is up on the map,” Konowa said, then cursed himself for disparaging Pimmer in front of the troops. “Which of course he knew all along. I do believe the Viceroy likes to jest,” he said.

Feylan and the other soldiers looked at him with obvious skepticism, but they kept their opinions to themselves.

“Okay, grab him before he wanders too far,” Konowa said, pushing Feylan toward the opening. The private nodded and followed after Pimmer. He reached the wall and without pausing ducked inside.

“All right, the rest of you, in you go. Take it slow, and don’t go far. We still don’t know who or what might be in there.”

The soldiers walked silently toward the opening, each of them lost in thought. One by one they crouched down and entered the passageway until only Konowa remained outside the wall. He hunched his shoulders against the cold. For several minutes, he simply stood there.

Finally, he took one last look down the rocky slope before turning and walking inside. A trail of black frost stained the ground in his wake.