Ashes of a Black Frost

THIRTY-NINE

Konowa walked along a path among the trees, occasionally reaching out a hand to brush against the bark as he went. Autumn was in the air. He still wore his uniform, although it no longer conformed to any regulations. His trousers were neatly patched with pieces of Hasshugeb robe, and his jacket no longer carried epaulettes or shiny buttons, the latter having long been replaced by polished pieces of wood from a few shards of the Black Spike. He reached up and scratched his head, still not used to not having a shako there. He rolled his shoulders, feeling the weight of the musket on its sling. His right hand rested on the pommel of his saber with a light but firm grip.

The wind chased fallen leaves before him like a covey of startled quail. It had been three months since the battle on the mountain-top. Three months and he still kept a wary eye on the trees around him. Better safe than sorry. He paused and took in a breath.

“Okay,” he said to himself, closing his eyes, “I can do this.”

He stretched out his arms, palms up, and listened to the forest. It was alive with the sounds of birds and beasts and all manner of insects and other living creatures. The distant voices of the Wolf Oaks were there, too, but if they were talking to him, he couldn’t understand a word they were saying.

A squirrel scampered down a trunk nearby and paused to look at him. Konowa raised an eyebrow at it. “Father?”

The squirrel bushed its tail and darted back up the tree.

“Guess not.” He tried again, straining to hear more than the usual buzz of noise. He closed his eyes and concentrated. C’mon, something talk to me.

“You look like a juggler who’s lost his balls.”

Konowa opened his eyes. Yimt stood a few feet up ahead on the path. His teeth gleamed as he smiled. He was dressed in soft brown and green leathers, and carried a custom-tailored long bow on his back. His trusty drukar hung at his side off his old Calahrian uniform’s belt.

“The forest and I remain, unsurprisingly, not on speaking terms.”

“Just as well,” Yimt said, stepping forward as he shoved a wad of crute between his teeth. He offered some to Konowa who politely shook his head. “Brigadier generals that hear trees don’t stay brigadiers for long.”

Konowa snorted, and fell in step with the dwarf as they started walking back down the path. In the distance just visible through the trees, a small cottage and a neatly domed pile of rocks with a small wooden door sat by a river in a lush, green meadow. “I told you, I’m not taking the commission. Marshal Ruwl got me once, but not again. The Iron Elves are in good hands with Pimmer.”

“What about the message from Miss Synjyn, and the King? They all seem rather keen to have you back under arms,” Yimt said. His voice was filled with mirth at Konowa’s discomfort. “The Shadow Monarch and Her forces might be gone, but the Empire is far from stable. And you are the hero. I read all about it in the Imperial Weekly Herald,” Yimt said, flourishing a scroll of paper.

Konowa made a face. “They can send Rakestraw’s cavalry out looking for me for all I care. I am officially retired. I’m back where I belong, in a forest. . among the trees. .” Konowa stopped walking and took the scroll from Yimt and unfurled it. A very lifelike sketch of several members of the regiment graced the top of the page along with the official citations commending their acts of bravery. Fifty-two had survived. It hurt to read that, but Konowa was grateful that many had come through. For a very long time he feared the number would be zero.

He easily recognized Corporal Vulhber, RSM Aguom, Private Scolly Erinmoss, and a beaming Major Pimrald Alstonfar. They formed the core of the fully reconstituted Iron Elves, and Konowa couldn’t be happier about that. He ignored his own sketch and grinned when he saw Yimt’s. Rallie had somehow managed to capture the glint of his metal teeth and mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Even newly minted Ensign Feylan of the Imperial Calahrian Navy was depicted. At this rate the lad would have his own ship in a couple more years.

Konowa’s joy dimmed as he scanned down to the posthumous awards. The list was long, much too long. Rallie had drawn the deceased with grace and humor, capturing them at their best, their eyes bright and their smiles genuine and strong, but it still hollowed Konowa out to look at them.

He let the scroll roll up and handed it back to Yimt.

“What about you? Don’t you have a wife and family missing you? You’re a free dwarf. Why not go home and open your law firm? I’m sure there are guilty men in jail right now for no other reason than you’re out here and not in a courtroom working your particular brand of magic.”

Yimt looked down at the ground for a moment before looking up into Konowa’s eyes. “I had to make sure you were okay. I. . we lost a lot of good lads. I couldn’t stand to lose anymore.”

Konowa reached out and rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Yimt, look at me. For the first time in my life, I can honestly say I’m happy.”

A rustling in the trees cut off his next words. Both elf and dwarf turned. Konowa’s hand slid to the pommel of his saber while Yimt drew out his drukar. The sound grew louder as it moved closer. Konowa crouched, tensing his muscles. A moment later, Jir bounded out of the low brush covered in burrs. A moment after that the smell hit them. He looked at both of them, wagging his stubby tail.

“Yirka umno, Jir! I told you, stay away from skunks!” Konowa turned to Yimt. “Whose turn is it to wash him?”

Yimt was already several yards down the path. “Sorry, can’t hear you. See you at dinner!”

Konowa shouted a curse and reluctantly started walking toward the river, motioning for Jir to follow. “Do you think you’ll ever learn?”

“Do you?” Visyna asked.

Konowa looked up to see her coming up the path to meet them. “Yimt tells me you let Jir get in trouble again.”

Konowa smiled. Visyna looked. . perfect. Her long brown hair gleamed in the sun and her almond-shaped eyes flashed with joy.

“Me? You give me too much credit. I was just going for a walk.” He closed the distance between them and took her in his arms. He shooed Jir away with his boot and the bengar loped off after the dwarf. “Yimt asked me about the offer to rejoin the army again.”

Visyna tensed in his arms. “What did you say?”

He squeezed her tight. She felt perfect, too. “I told him I was happy, and that I was back where I belong.”

Visyna frowned. “But you hate the forest.”

Konowa leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Forest, what forest? All I see is you.”

She reached up and wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling his face to hers. The touch of her lips on his was warm and soft. They pulled away slowly, and then started walking back down the path hand in hand.

“No sparks,” Konowa said, licking his lips.

Visyna playfully jabbed him in the ribs and as he bent over she wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him to the ground. “I’ll show you sparks,” she said.

Konowa held her tight and did indeed feel sparks. Twice.

If the forest had anything to say, Konowa couldn’t hear it.

He finally realized, he didn’t have to.