Ashes of a Black Frost

“You’ve put chunks of oak planks over several of the cannon mouths,” he said, stepping back again quickly as his stomach started to churn.

Yimt greeted his observation with a smile that didn’t bode well for any creatures coming too close the Black Spike. Konowa briefly wondered how many had perished with Yimt’s pewter-colored teeth the last image in their eyes? Better them than him.

“Noticed that, did you, sir? Well, it’s a bit nasty I’ll admit, but can’t say as the buggers don’t deserve it and then some. If you look real close, I had the boys score the wood to help it splinter easier, and a few of the planks have a little extra surprise in them.”

He sounded so proud that Konowa had no choice but to go back to the railing and look over the side again. “Are those nails?” He peered a little closer and saw a piece of chain dangling. He followed it and saw it attached to several more planks further down the ship. “Are you sure you wouldn’t be better employed in weapons manufacture instead of as a barrister?” Konowa asked, stepping away from the railing again.

“Same basic principles apply really,” Yimt said. “You got to hit the buggers hard with everything you got before they hit you.”

“I’m not sure that’s exactly how it works,” he said, then left the rest of his thought hanging as he spied Yimt’s old squad a few yards away. He walked over to the newly minted Corporal Vulhber and shook the man’s hand, congratulating him on his promotion. Privates Scolly and Zwitty stood nearby. Konowa’s first thought was they’d already dipped into the rum. “Someone has to explain this to me.”

Corporal Vulhber looked at him and smiled. “Colonel. Well, it was the RSM’s idea and we figured why not.” The look on Zwitty’s face suggested he’d figured differently, but he kept his mouth shut.

“You appear to be dressed as trees,” Konowa said. And not just trees, but sarka har. Each soldier had the metallic-impregnated bark of a sarka har, no doubt from all the pieces that had fallen on deck when they’d been ripped free back at Tel Martuk, wrapped around his arms, legs, and torso like a knight’s armor. Twine and strips of sailcloth that appear to have been darkened with pitch held everything in place.

“They don’t have ribs like a dwarf,” Yimt said, knocking his knuckles against his chest. “After my recent experience, I got to thinking it’d be just the thing for the lad going into battle. If we had more time I think I could come up with some kind of helmet, too.”

Konowa walked over and rapped his knuckles against Vulhber’s bark plate. Small sparks flew. “It is tough,” he said, standing back. Garbed as they were in black bark over their dirty and worn green uniforms and black caernas, they could probably pass as sarka har from a distance. He turned to Yimt with an idea.

“My thinking exactly, sir,” Yimt said, anticipating him. “I’ve got the rest of the regiment kitting out the same way. Going to add some branches on top when we’re closer. Doubt it’ll fool them for long, but if it buys us a few more seconds, that might just be all we need.”

Konowa grinned. The fire inside had been smoldering for a while, but as he looked at the black-clad warriors before him the first flames began to grow.

The Iron Elves were coming home.

Visyna stood near the bow of the Ormandy, ignoring the freezing spray that flew up every time the bow dipped down into another wave. She’d tried sleeping, but every time she began to drift off the horrors of the last few days came rushing at her. She wondered how soldiers like Konowa and Yimt withstood the assault on their unconscious mind. To lose friends, to kill the enemy, to forever walk into danger knowing-absolutely knowing-that not everyone would walk back out again had to take its toll.

She hunched her shoulders, grateful for the tunic loaned to her by one of the soldiers on board the ship. I’m even starting to hear things, she realized, imagining the erratic flapping of Wobbly somewhere in the night. A moment later, a white blur drew her attention off the starboard bow. It is Wobbly! She ran to the railing to watch his arrival. He seemed to be going faster than was safe, much too fast to make a landing. He skimmed over the main mast, did a slow banking turn, and started heading northwest, back the way he came.

“Wait, you didn’t deliver your message!” she shouted after the pelican. She brought her hands up to weave, hoping perhaps to use the wind to guide him back this way, when a new sound reached her ears. It was more wings flapping. She turned and saw a massive bird of prey swoop down from the sky, its beak glinting like polished steel.

“Dandy!” she cried, marveling as the bird flared its wings and came in for a pinpoint landing on the railing just ten feet from her. He tucked in his wings and squatted down on the railing, but with each blast of sea spray he got up again and fluttered his feathers in annoyance.

“I’m guessing Rallie sent you,” Visyna said, inching a little closer to Dandy. “But why?”

For an answer, Dandy hopped off the railing and began walking across the deck. His claws gouged huge splinters out of the wood as he did so.

“Here! We can’t have your bloody bird tearing up the deck,” a sailor said, running across the main deck to stand in front of Dandy.

Dandy turned his head so that a single, golden eye stared at the sailor. Visyna said nothing.

“It’ll be a deuce of a job for the ship’s carpenter to repair,” the sailor said, his voice quavering as he tried to look around Dandy at Visyna.

“Are you the ship’s carpenter?” Visyna asked.

“No,” the sailor said, backing up a few paces. Dandy followed him.

“Then I wouldn’t worry about it,” she said, following after the bird.

The sailor seemed to think about that for a few seconds and then promptly turned and ran. Dandy didn’t give chase, but moved toward the canvas-wrapped body of Chayii laid out on the deck. He lowered his head and using his beak, gently pulled Chayii’s body underneath so that it rested by his claws. He raised his head and looked at Visyna. His right claw was open and extended toward her.

She realized it was an invitation.

“You’re here to take us to Konowa, aren’t you?” she said.

Dandy ruffled his feathers as another wall of spray pelted the deck.

“You’re leaving us,” Prince Tykkin said, walking along the deck and coming to a stop a few yards away.

“It appears I am,” Visyna said. She started to move toward the bird, then paused and looked back at the Prince. “I am sorry for your loss. For what it’s worth, I think you have it in you to be an excellent ruler. In the short time I’ve known you. .” she realized she couldn’t finish the sentence as it would sound too patronizing. The Prince finished it for her.

“I’ve grown. Yes, well, I suppose it was inevitable,” he said, offering her a wry smile. “I had some very good examples to learn from.” He bowed toward her.

“May your reign be a long and peaceful one,” Visyna said.

“And may the winds of fortune favor you and the Iron Elves in the coming battle.” He nodded and turned to walk away, then stopped and turned back. “And for what it’s worth, tell that elf of yours that if I’d had my choice, I would have been there at his side.”

Visyna smiled. “He knows that already, but I’ll remind him.”

“Off you go then,” the future king said, giving her a quick salute.

Visyna returned it and turned to Dandy. “Okay, how do we do this?”

Elation and terror fought for dominance as she realized she would soon rejoin Konowa. She’d hoped a miracle would happen, and it had, but now she wished she’d put a little more thought into the details.

Dandy’s claw snatched her up and his wings extended. He crouched low, then pushed straight up, his other claw scooping up Chayii as he did so. He pumped his wings a few times and Visyna buried her head in his feathers as they cleared the mast and vaulted into the sky.

She didn’t scream, but not because she didn’t want to.

THIRTY-SIX