Ashes of a Black Frost

the natural world as all these other elves are. As She was. And so I sought to set some of you apart in the hopes that one day I would find one strong enough to bond with and create a new world.”

The acorn against Konowa’s heart cracked. He felt the first tendril of what was inside pierce his skin and start to worm its way into his flesh.

“I created you, my child, and now we will be one.”

Konowa screamed and reached for his chest. He ripped his tunic exposing his flesh. He grabbed the acorn and pulled, but he couldn’t remove it. The saber fell from his right hand. Everything was going dark. More branches snaked around him.

He looked to the shades for help, but they were trapped in a shimmering wall of frost fire. He was alone.

A branch wrapped itself around his right wrist while another reached to the ground for his saber.

The saber wasn’t there. Konowa forced his head up. The Shadow Monarch stood next to the Silver Wolf Oak, his saber in Her hands.

“I cannot kill you, my love, my life,” She said, the tears streaming down Her face. “I saved you, I gave you life.” Her voice was broken with sobs. The love and agony in it made Konowa hurt.

The branches of the Silver Wolf Oak shook and thrashed in an attempt to get to the Shadow Monarch, but they were so interwoven now around Konowa they could not reach Her. She moved forward until She stood beside the tree’s twisted trunk. Her sobs grew louder as She sunk to Her knees beside it.

Branches snapped as the sarka har flailed around them. The entire mountain began to tremble. Konowa stumbled as the rock heaved beneath him. The air turned so cold he could no longer breathe. His vision grayed at the edge.

“You have to!” Konowa choked. He struggled to move forward, but the cold and the shaking ground made it impossible.

The Shadow Monarch turned to look at him. “No, I can’t. I won’t. But if I cannot be with my love in this life, I will be with it in the next.” She turned the saber so that the point was facing Her chest, and then She fell forward.

The mountain shuddered. Rocks cracked and blew apart as the Silver Wolf Oak’s roots ripped through the deep, climbing back to the surface to ensnare Konowa in their grasp. The first roots broke free and wrapped themselves around his ankle, but they were too late.

The summit exploded in a shower of black, crystal flame. The Shadow Monarch’s body vanished in a gale of frost fire. The flame ignited the ichor dripping from the Silver Wolf Oak and set it ablaze. It flamed at once, burning so dark the night appeared as day. Konowa burned, too, only now, he had no protection from the frost fire. He stumbled blindly through the flame, struggling to find a way out. He tripped and fell, landing hard on a rock. He struggled to stay conscious as the black flames roared skyward, consuming everything on the mountain peak. He knew if he stayed here, he would die.

The pain tried to keep him pinned to the ground, but the fire inside made him roll. He climbed to his feet, still reeling. He couldn’t see. Everything was aflame. Sarka har shrieked as they burned. The Silver Wolf Oak’s branches thrashed and tore itself apart in its funeral pyre of ugly, black flame.

A wave of cold air suddenly surrounded him. He looked up. The shades of the dead stood beside him again, shielding him from the raging fire. Private Renwar stepped forth. His shadowy form solidified for a moment, revealing the young lad Konowa had first met. They locked eyes. Alwyn smiled, and saluted. The other shades followed suit. Lorian. Meri. His men. His brothers.

Konowa struggled to stand upright and returned their salute, the tears streaming freely down his face. It wasn’t the salute that made him cry. It was seeing their smiles.

The oath was broken.

“Thank you,” Alwyn said, and was gone.

Konowa blinked. He was alone on the mountaintop. The fire still burned. He flung his body off the rock, tumbling and sliding until he could no longer feel the icy flames. He came to rest in the crook of two rocks. The mountain was shaking beneath him. Rocks split and fractured as chasms dug too long and too deep collapsed.

Debris began falling past him. The irony that he would survive his encounter on the mountaintop only to be killed by a falling rock put a grin on his face.

He waited for the fateful blow, but none came. The mountain stopped shaking. He sat up, clutching his chest. When he brought his hand away and looked, the black stain on his chest was still there, but already he could feel warmth spreading through his body. He ripped the black acorn stuck to his chest, and this time it came away. As he held it in his hands he felt the coldness leave it. He thought about what his father said, about how its contact with him would have changed it.

He took in a tentative breath, waiting for a stab of pain to black him out, but beyond a level of overall agony he had become accustomed to, he felt pretty damn good. He gingerly climbed to his feet and looked up. The black flames had gone out. He looked around. There were no signs of sarka har anywhere. He clenched his fists. Nothing. No frost fire.

He climbed back up to the mountaintop. A thick, black ash floated in the air, coating everything. Nothing else remained to show the Shadow Monarch and Her forest had ever been there. The rock where the Silver Wolf Oak had grown had been scoured clean by the frost fire. Konowa kicked his boot through the black ash until he heard a familiar clink. He bent down and picked up his saber. He hefted it in his hands and made a couple of practice swipes in the air. He spun around, expecting something to be standing behind him, but he was alone.

Konowa sheathed his saber. There wasn’t even an echo. He wanted to feel something more, but after all this time, the feeling that overwhelmed all others was that for the first time in his life, he could see himself being happy.

It was a scary thought. He shivered, and decided it was time to get back. He took one last look around and started to set off back down the mountain, but paused.

He opened his hand and looked at the acorn. Could his father be right? Was this a chance for things to be different? After everything, maybe he could find a way to bond with nature. Gently, he knelt down and placed the acorn on the ground. He stood back up and looked at it. A light breeze drifted through the clearing, tousling his hair across his face. For a long time he stared at the acorn, waiting. Then he raised his boot and slammed his heel down on the acorn with all his might. The acorn splintered into several pieces. He lifted his boot and brought it down again and again and again until there was nothing left.

“Bloody trees,” he muttered, turning and never looking back.

“I’ll leave out the parts where I screamed,” he said to himself as he began composing his story for the others. The rest of it, he decided, he’d tell more or less as it happened.

More or less.

Konowa smiled.

It felt. . good.

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