Ashes of a Black Frost

screeching noise from far below as the ship passed by the rock on the port side. It felt like a nail being scraped down his spine. When it was passed the ship picked up speed again, but not quite as much as before. Perhaps the anchors and his father were having an effect.

“We’re taking on water!”

Or that.

Konowa wasn’t too worried about drowning in a river with land in sight on either side, but he hoped they wouldn’t have to get wet if it could be helped. The ship took several more hits, jostling one way then the other as it continued moving upstream. Its speed had definitely slowed, but nowhere near anything Konowa considered safe. He saw a large hill pass by on their starboard and had a moment of vertigo as the ship climbed past it.

“After this, I walk everywhere,” he muttered.

He also realized they’d passed through the Deep Forest of the Hyntaland and were now moving into Her realm. The temperature seemed to drop as soon as he thought it, or perhaps he just finally noticed. Though the sun was now well up in the sky, it was a gray, muddy day. Thick clouds boiled above suggesting rain or snow. Konowa felt the first drop on his neck and cursed. Naturally, it would be sleet.

“Not nearly as fast as The Flying Elf, but much more exhilarating,” Major Alstonfar said, crawling up to lay beside Konowa at the bow.

“I hadn’t noticed,” Konowa lied, wishing he had Captain Ervod here. Now there was a man who knew this wasn’t supposed to be fun. “Are the men ready?”

“And raring to go,” Pimmer said, then held up a finger in question. “Is that appropriate military parlance? Would you prefer more formal reports?”

“Major, raring to go is music to my ears. And what about you? Not your first dance, but you’ve never officially led before.”

It took a moment for Pimmer to get the pun. “Ah, very droll, sir. Well, yes, I must admit to a certain trepidation, but-”

The Black Spike leaped into the air as it bounced off a series of small rocks and slammed into a massive one. Timbers from below the waterline cartwheeled past the ship.

“-I look forward to having the opportunity to prove myself in battle and want to thank you again for the belief you’ve shown in me by giving me this chance.”

Konowa looked at the man. “You do know we’re sinking, right?”

“I imagine we have been for some time. Makes things that much more exciting, really. Will we sink before we get there? Will we get a chance to fire the Black Spike’s guns or will we all have to swim for it? Miss Synjyn will no doubt find ways to make it sound even more dramatic.”

Great swaths of white water ahead told Konowa they were about to get their answer. Her mountain loomed above them now. Konowa risked a look back and shuddered. They had to be halfway up it already. He’d felt a certain degree of safety on the ship as they traversed Her realm, but looking back it appeared as if they were hanging off a cliff. He was ready to jump now when the ship slowed and the bow drove between two large rocks and came to a surprisingly gentle stop.

“That wasn’t so bad at all,” Pimmer said, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

Konowa wanted to agree, but he was busy trying to throw up. The sound of rushing water battering the bow didn’t help. The icy spray was coating everything. They’d be a solid block of ice inside an hour. They’d have to get off the ship now.

“Arkhorn will be disappointed we didn’t get a chance to try out his handiwork,” Konowa said, standing up.

The first black arrow missed him by a few inches. The second by less than an inch. He was facedown on the deck before the third arrow had a chance.

THIRTY-SEVEN

They’re in the trees!”

Black arrows zipped through the rigging of the Black Spike and lodged with loud thunks into the decking. Others twanged as they bounced off the extra planking. The yammering howl of rakkes broke out all around them. Other, stranger cries added to the clamor.

“RSM, you have the guns!” Konowa shouted. He crawled forward and poked his head up and around a barrel of what he suspected were pickles. Sarka har dotted the rocks. There was little purchase for them here on the mountainside, but great snakes of roots connected one to another, helping to anchor them in place. Rakkes streamed toward the ship from both sides of the river, coming to the riverbanks and throwing rocks in their frustration. Further back, Konowa spotted the dark, flitting figures of Her dark, twisted elves. “There but for my parents,” he said, making a mental note to thank his father when all this was over.

He was starting to wonder what happened to Yimt when he heard the dwarf’s voice rise above the din. “This is for Ally! Fire!”

The Black Spike didn’t disintegrate, not entirely. The combined fire of over sixty cannons shook what was left of the ship to its core. Massive oak ribs snapped like twigs. Whole sections of deck collapsed and the aft mast split all the way to the top before toppling over.

The effect on the riverbanks for two hundred yards deep, however, was total obliteration. A gale of death swept over the rocks, scouring everything on it like a million scythes. Elves, rakkes, and sarka har simply vanished in a pulverized mist of bone, flesh, and blood. Konowa tried to stand, but for a moment his legs wouldn’t cooperate. The ringing in his ears was so loud it merged into one long wail. When he finally regained some balance he stood, coughing in the thick cloud of smoke now choking the Black Spike. When the smoke finally dissipated Konowa simply stared. Even the rocks bore the scars of the Black Spike’s cannonade. Everything was cracked and gouged.

“I would have liked a few more cannon, but overall I’d say that worked,” Yimt said, walking up to the bow. “You think Ally saw that?”

Konowa looked down at the dwarf. “Saw it, felt it, and most definitely heard it.”

Yimt beamed, his metal teeth gleaming. “Aye, that’s what I think, too.”

Corporal Feylan came running to the bow. “Colonel! We’re starting to drift.”

It took Konowa a moment to understand what that meant. And then it hit home. “Get everyone off now. We got our free ride, but this is the end of the line. The Black Spike is going back down the mountain.”

Gangplanks were hurriedly thrown over the starboard side, which was now less than two yards from the riverbank. Some men jumped, but most waited their turn and traversed the planking to land on the shore. Konowa watched the procession, aware the ship was drifting backward faster and faster. The end of the gangplank was scraping against the rocks.

“I’m sorry about your ship,” Konowa said, addressing Captain Ervod.

“She served us well. I’ll-”

The Black Spike lurched and began listing heavily to starboard, cutting off the captain’s eulogy. The man stumbled and fell down the gangplank to land at the river’s edge where waiting sailors fished him out. Konowa ran onto the gangplank and was soon tumbling himself the last yard to land in a heap on the rocks. He looked back and saw with horror that his father was still on the ship. The older elf was standing in front of the shimmering image of his ryk faur.

“Father! Get off the ship!”

Jurwan reached out a hand and patted the bark, then turned and slowly walked across the deck and down the gangplank as if his life wasn’t in mortal danger. A shadow flitted above Konowa and he looked up to see Tyul leap gracefully from the tree to land casually on the rocks as light as a, well, leaf. The image of the Wolf Oak flickered and then was gone.

A moment later, the Black Spike turned onto its side, its remaining masts splintering on the rocks as it was carried away by the river. Cannons rolled across the deck and splashed into the water, and then the ship shuddered and broke apart.