Ashes of a Black Frost

Konowa clapped the dwarf on the shoulder. “He is.”

“You’ll make an old dwarf cry with that kind of mush,” Yimt said, absently pulling up the hem of his caerna to rub the grease off his hand. The howling of rakkes turned both their heads.

“How much more twine do we have?” Konowa asked.

Yimt lifted up the bobbin and pulled the last foot of twine from it. “Out of twine and out of time.”

Konowa rolled his eyes and looked out across the desert. “I can see all kinds of shadows moving out there. I see the storm Visyna is controlling, too. Maybe two hundred yards away.” The thought of her being so close filled him with anxiety. Was she okay? He wanted to run out there right now to her, but he knew if they were going to have any chance of making it back to the fort they had to follow through with this plan.

“I wish I had my shatterbow with me,” Yimt said, sliding a large chopping ax out of the leather straps that held it to his back.

“We’ll be moving too fast to reload. If your plan works, your ax and my saber should be more than enough. If they aren’t, it won’t really matter.”

Yimt hefted the ax in his hands and gave it a few twirls. He deftly spun it around his body as if it were an extension of his arms. Images from Konowa’s dream in the Shadow Monarch’s forest came back to him and he was tempted to ask Yimt about it, but the sound of the rakkes was growing louder. Time was definitely up.

“So,” Konowa said, “I’ll find Visyna and the squad and lead them back here. When you see my signal, light the twine.”

Yimt looked him over. “Now that the rakkes from here to the door are done, a liberal dusting of you should do it.”

Konowa untied the bundled Hasshugeb robe that hung from the belt at his waist and draped it over his shoulders.

Yimt reached forward and opened the flap on Konowa’s haversack and stuck a hand inside. He took the copper shavings and dust and began patting them all over Konowa’s robe, ordering him to turn with a swirling motion of his main finger where upon he patted down his back as well.

“And this won’t hurt?” Konowa asked.

Yimt gave him an extra hard pat and turned him around to face him. “More than anything else you’ve been through in the last few days? Naw,” Yimt said, “can’t imagine it will feel more than a bunny nibbling on your fingers.”

Konowa decided to inquire about the kind of rabbits Yimt had encountered another time. “Right. Somehow, it seems like I should be sending you out running across the desert,” Konowa said, looking down and noticing how the copper shimmered in the reflected metallic light of the falling snow.

Yimt held out his right hand palm up. A small, black flame burned in the center of it. “Gotta hand it to the Viceroy. He knows as much about metals and alchemy as a dwarf. That pencil pusher has one devious mind.” The admiration in his voice sounded sincere.

“I think it’s part of the job requirement,” Konowa said, reaching out with his own hand and the black flame that burned there. The two shook, black sparks whirling up into the night.

“You know all those things I said about thinking ahead and not always charging headlong into battle?” Yimt said, looking up at Konowa with an unblinking stare.

“I wasn’t listening,” Konowa said, giving the dwarf’s hand a squeeze then letting go. He turned and worked his way down through the last jumble of fallen rocks and hit the desert floor at a run. He unsheathed his saber and it immediately glistened with black frost.

“I didn’t think you were,” Yimt shouted after him. “Now go do what you do so well, Major. Stir up that hornet’s nest!”

TWENTY-FOUR

A wind blew among the sarka har on the mountaintop, rattling their branches. Leaves heavy with ore and dark power twisted and ripped away, twirling through the air like miniature scythes. A few of the blood trees snapped and splintered, their trunks too rigid to cope with the strain. The Shadow Monarch ignored the whirling debris around Her and pulled Her robe closer. It was cold up here, even for Her. She sat on the leeward side of Her ryk faur, sheltered by its massive, gnarled trunk from the worst of the wind. Great, knobby branches hung low around Her, offering further protection.

She closed Her eyes and leaned Her head against the Silver Wolf Oak’s trunk. She felt the strong, urgent vibration of the ichor pulsing through the tree and took comfort from it. Her ryk faur would live. The early frost would not kill it. She saw the birthing meadow sparkling with white frost and felt the anguish as the tiny sapling screamed in terror and pain as the frost burned it. She turned to plead with the elves of the Long Watch to save it, but there was no one there.

The Shadow Monarch sat up, crying out as She reached to soothe the sapling. Her hands came to rest on the ulcerating trunk of the tree. It was sick. It was a thought She knew, yet refused to accept. The contradiction made Her angry, and She looked around for a place to vent Her rage.

A constant trickle of ichor bled down the side of the Silver Wolf Oak to collect in a pool near the Shadow Monarch’s feet. She stared at the shimmering surface, feeling the power flow from the tree. She tried to find Her children as She had before, but the surface of the ichor would not settle. The mountain shuddered and rock cracked as the roots of the sarka har drove deeper in search of sustenance.

Growing angrier, She focused all Her thought on the pool, willing it to cooperate. An image began to appear, but it wasn’t of elves but of a city of humans. Celwyn. She’d never been, but She knew it from the minds of Her Emissaries. A loud snap overhead made Her look up as a heavy branch from the Silver Wolf Oak splintered and fell to the ground, shattering. Ichor splashed Her, and She smelled the taint of death.

Using Her anger, She called on the power in the depths, urging the roots to dig deeper still. The mountain shook and several sarka har fell into chasms that opened wide beneath their trunks. Undaunted, She reached out to the shimmering vision of Celwyn.

Large, lush trees lined cobbled streets. Huge parks with vast meadows buzzed with life. Everywhere She looked, the land mocked Her with its verdant energy. She saw the image of Her ryk faur reflected in the pool of ichor and the contrast drew a slow hiss from between Her teeth.

She felt its branches come down to gently rest on Her shoulders. Two snaked their way down Her arms to wrap lightly around Her wrists. She plunged both hands into the ichor up to Her elbows. The cold shocked her, but cleared Her mind. She felt the natural order and began to tug on the web of roots deep underground, directing them to a new destination. She withdrew Her hands and watched. The branches slid back up Her arms and away.

She sat like that, unaware of the passage of time or the growing cold. Frost sparkled on Her cloak and in Her hair, turning it gray and brittle. The view of Celwyn shimmered and then changed. She blinked. Darkness erupted from the earth throughout the city as Her sarka har sought to conquer this new land. She smiled, and leaned back against her ryk faur as the screams and cries of a people echoed in Her mind.

The Shadow Monarch closed Her eyes. Soon, there would be nowhere else for Her children to run. Soon, they would have to come home. They would have to come back to Her.

Visyna stumbled again, and this time she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep control of the storm around her. The stinging threads began slipping through her fingers at an increasing rate. Her fingertips burned and she stifled a scream, doing her best to use her weaving to shape what little of the storm she still controlled.

“I’m losing it,” she said, knowing her warning was obvious as the wall of swirling snow that had protected the group disappeared into the larger storm around them.

Cold air rushed into the bubble, chilling her to the bone. The pain in her fingers turned into pins and needles. She pressed her hands under her armpits and dared to look around. Rakkes were emerging from the snow wherever she looked.

“Everyone stay close. Don’t get split from the group and don’t try to make a run for it!” Hrem shouted, coming to stand beside her on her left. “We’re stronger as a group and they know it!”