Ashes of a Black Frost

Konowa still wasn’t convinced, but it was time to move. “Very well, Viceroy, I can see the benefit of having you with me. Please collect whatever you’ll need and report-return here so that we can begin.”

Pimmer smiled and reached out to pat Konowa on the arm then appeared to think better of it and turned it into a wave that meandered into a salute that only the most charitable, or farsighted, would consider military. “I shall go fetch my pistol and be back in a moment.”

Aguom coughed. “You aren’t carrying it with you now?”

Pimmer made a patting gesture on his robes. “Afraid not. In fact, it seems I’ve left my saber back at the camel, too. Takes a bit of getting used to carting all these weapons around. I don’t know how you do it.”

Konowa made sure not to catch the regimental sergeant major’s eye lest one or both of them burst out with something they’d regret. “As a general rule, Viceroy, you might wish to keep your pistol and other weapons on your person and in a position to use at a moment’s notice. As you’ve seen, things are a bit dicey out here. There’s no telling where or when we’ll be in battle next.”

Pimmer straightened up at the idea and fixed Konowa with a hard stare. “Then it’s time we get going,” he said. “You know, up until your arrival my battles were fought with the quill, strategically planned tea breaks, and wine-soaked dinner parties for the coup de grace.”

“I think it’s safe to say those days are over for the foreseeable future,” Konowa said. “A saber in hand is your best friend now.”

“What a wonderful phrase and terrible thought,” Pimmer said, then turned and strode off to fetch his gear.

Konowa watched him go and then motioned to Aguom to follow. They walked a short distance away so they were well out of earshot of the troops.

“Right, I’m splitting us into two groups.” He knew it was risky to divide their strength when about to face the enemy, but he didn’t see he had much choice. Marching the entire column at Suhundam’s Hill meant following the caravan track that wound its way directly below it and well within range of muskets or arrows.

“A good move, sir, if you don’t mind my saying so,” Aguom said. “If we took the whole column straight on we could find out the enemy is somewhere out there in the desert and we’d be pinned up against the rock. Splitting us up gives us options, and in the snow and the dark the enemy will have a hard time seeing us, hopefully at least until it’s too late.”

Konowa stepped back a pace and studied the RSM. “I knew sergeants were the backbone of the army and put there to keep officers from making too many mistakes they might not live to regret, but I didn’t know they were tacticians, too. I’ve been remiss in not consulting with you sooner.”

“Kind of you to say, Major, but I actually picked it up talking to another officer with us.”

Konowa looked past him to the assembled soldiers a short distance away. “What, the naval ensign in charge of the guns? Where did a fish learn how to fight on land?”

Aguom shook his head. “No, sir. He was killed by one of those flying trees. A branch went right through his neck. Quite a mess.” Aguom pointed at his own neck indicating where the branch had struck and killed the naval ensign.

Konowa reached up toward his own neck then brought his hand back down. Without intending to he hunched his shoulders and tucked his chin in a little. He realized Aguom was staring at him and reluctantly Konowa forced himself to raise his head and expose the flesh of his neck to the cold, night air. He had a newfound sympathy for turtles. “If not the ensign then. . wait, you don’t mean the Viceroy?” Pimmer was clearly bright and capable enough in a maddening, eccentric way, but he didn’t know command of soldiers in the field.

“No, sir, not the Viceroy. It’s Lieutenant Imba, sir.”

Konowa didn’t recognize the name. “We have a Lieutenant Imba? Where did we pick him up and where’s he been hiding?”

The RSM looked at the ground then back at Konowa. “He was one of the volunteers from the 3rd Spears. He was afraid you wouldn’t let him join if you knew he was an officer, so he begged me to keep his secret. He took off his rank and blended in. His men admire him greatly. I know his clan. Fisherman for the most part and warriors when necessary.”

Konowa looked back toward the soldiers. “Lieutenant Imba, to me.”

A soldier detached himself from the group and started over. The remaining men began looking everywhere except at Konowa. They all knew, he realized, kicking himself for not spotting the deception back in Nazalla, but he’d had too much on his mind. As Lieutenant Imba marched he carried himself like an officer, a confident one at that. There was an easy grace to his gait. Almost as tall as Konowa, he never averted his gaze as he approached. He held his head up just a fraction higher than was comfortable in order to jut out his chin and throw his shoulders back. The result was subtle yet powerful. He conveyed authority without appearing aggressive. Konowa knew he stomped around like a bull half the time. It had worked, especially in the early going of his career when he was determined to prove elves weren’t all a bunch of flower-sniffing dandies, but maybe it was time for a more thoughtful approach to life’s challenges. . although perhaps not too thoughtful.

Imba came to a smooth stop in front of Konowa and saluted smartly. Unlike most of the men, he had not wrapped himself in a Hasshugeb robe and stood before Konowa in a threadbare uniform and bare feet. His musket rested perfectly against his left shoulder and gleamed as if he had guard duty at the Queen’s palace. Konowa stared at his face, mentally tracing each ceremonial scarring band under clear, unblinking eyes. He knew they were made without the aid of any drug or liquor to ease the pain. Ragged scars were a sign of squirming as the blade bit into flesh across the cheekbones and Konowa wondered how many he could stomach before throwing up, passing out, or taking a swing at whoever was doing the cutting. Imba had seven scars under his right eye and six under his left. Every one was ruler straight.

The acorn grew colder, but Konowa didn’t need its warning. The man before him was a true warrior.

“So, it’s lieutenant, is it?” Konowa asked.

Imba’s voice was clear and unapologetic despite his words. “Yes, sir. My apologies for the deception. I shall place myself under arrest until such time as a court-martial is convened and I am tried and convicted for dereliction of duty.”

Konowa looked up to the sky as if considering the idea. Another time and another place not that long ago that’s exactly what would have happened, and the most likely result would have been execution by firing squad. . assuming he didn’t die first from a thousand lashes. But that time and place no longer existed. Konowa brushed a few snowflakes from his face and returned his gaze to Lieutenant Imba.

“Yes, well, under the unique circumstances, I’m inclined to view this as a significant but correctable oversight on your part. As of now you will resume the rank of lieutenant. We’ve been a regiment running on wings and prayers from the outset so another officer is a useful addition. I want you, with the RSM’s assistance, to take the column up the road toward the fort. That includes the cannons. I know we don’t have any shot for them, but no one in the fort will know that. Miss Synjyn will follow in her wagon with His Highness bringing up the rear. You will assign the Color Party to stay with the Prince and keep him safe.”

If Imba wondered at the strangeness of the order he didn’t show it. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. If you don’t mind my asking, where will you be, Major?”

Konowa pointed toward the fort. “I’m taking ten men and the Viceroy with me across the desert and coming at the place from the backside.”

“Will ten men suffice?”

“Lieutenant,” Konowa said, drawing his saber and holding it up near his face to examine the blade, “if it weren’t for the look of the thing I’d run right up there by myself and to hell with the consequences.”

Choosing to take that as a signal, RSM Aguom motioned to Lieutenant Imba and they both saluted and marched back toward the troops. Konowa continued to stare at his blade as snowflakes fell on the steel. A quick burst of frost fire burned it clean and he reluctantly sheathed it. He looked back toward Suhundam’s Hill. Please, let there be something up there I can take a swing at.

FIFTEEN

Blood will spill this night,” Konowa said. The assembled soldiers grew quiet. Konowa let that thought hang in