Chris Evans - Ashes of a Black Frost

Konowa wondered what Jaal was up to. Hopefully something far less desperate than this. The wagon tilted as its right side wheels found a rut and Konowa slammed against the wooden slat that acted as an armrest. The pain in his shoulder flared, bringing his attention back to the here and now. Why couldn’t the damn cold of the oath deal with that? he wondered.

The wagon righted itself and the ride went back to being simply bone jarring. He peered into the sky. He tried to calculate the time and gave up immediately when he realized he wasn’t entirely sure what day it was let alone the hour. Already his sense of time was stretching and twisting. The driving snow dulled everything, turning the world before him into a gray-tinged blur. Not long ago such a storm would have been enough to foul his mood and send him questing deep into himself, asking why him and what the hell was going on. Now he saw the way forward and would not be deviated to either side. The Iron Elves were headed for the Shadow Monarch’s mountain and one way or another, the oath would be broken. That was the why and the what of it.

A sudden gust of wind tore a brief window in the screen of snow. The column appeared, stretching out ahead of them like a black snake, its body a series of curves as the soldiers marched. A moment later it was gone again, lost in the swirling snow. Konowa considered finding Viceroy Alstonfar-Pimmer-he corrected himself, and asking him again if he was certain the regiment was heading in the right direction. Private Renwar appeared to know, but just how sane the soldier was Konowa couldn’t say. Still, Konowa told himself, Pimmer would no doubt sound the alarm if they strayed off course. His faith in the diplomat continued to grow. Besides, to check with Pimmer would mean leaving the wagon seat just when he thought he was finding a position offering the least amount of pain. And the last time Konowa had set off by himself had not exactly gone as planned.

The regiment, Konowa concluded as he let his back sag a little more, was unerringly headed for the fort on top of Suhundam’s Hill. They would arrive at the foot of the hill in the next few hours. . probably. What he hoped to find there remained a mystery to him.

The wind changed direction and Konowa picked up voices in the dark. He realized they were coming from the soldiers riding in the wagon bed behind him. A laugh drifted to him and the urge to turn and join in the conversation pulled at him hard, but he instinctively knew this was a time when soldiers needed to be alone, free to piss and moan and laugh about life, the fairer sex, food, officers, and the general state of the world from their vantage point. Konowa forced himself to stay where he was. He did, however, turn his head slightly so that he could catch a bit more of what was being said.

“. . you grease it up nice and thick, see, and that keeps it from sticking when it gets hot. Now if you’re baking a rye bread you might want to consider a flat stone instead of a metal pan. Personally, I like to let the dough rise. .”

Konowa smiled. A world of monsters surrounded them and their main concern was food. His own stomach gurgled and the taste of a warm loaf of fresh bread pushed all other thoughts out of his head. His fingers twitched as he remembered tearing pieces of a still hot loaf into chunks as steam rose from the soft bread within. His mother always had a wooden bowl of fresh honey for dipping, but only if he promised to eat a handful of berries and nuts as well. It was a bargain he was always happy to make. Maybe one day he’d have that chance again.

“. . with the damn recipes. I could gnaw the knobby bits off a camel at this point, so leave off would you? Now here’s what you want to be puttin’ your minds to. Where’s our treasure then, eh?”

Ahh, a soldier with a bit of the pirate in him. Konowa wondered where this would go. Just a few scant hours ago all of them were a hairs-breadth from dying at the hands of infernal trees, and now they were talking about loot.

“Are you on about that again? The library burned, didn’t it? Mostly rubbish was left, scrolls and papers and such which the fire didn’t touch. The Viceroy grabbed those up and he’s welcome to them is how I see it.”

“But not all of it burned, did it?” the first soldier said. Konowa tried to place the voice but he couldn’t. He realized the only soldier he knew by name out of the rear guard was Feylan. He’d have to learn the others. They all deserved a commendation.

“Think about this,” the soldier continued. “We sail across the ocean jumping onto island after island to gut every last rakke and dark elf we find, yeah? We’re all gonna get medals for it, too, right?”

Another soldier interrupted. “Me mum’ll be right proud of me coming home with a medal or two on my jacket.” Konowa recognized the voice. Definitely Private Feylan.

“She’d be a damn sight prouder if you had a small chest of coins tucked under your arm is all I’m saying.”

More voices chimed in. Talk of riches clearly captured their imaginations.

“Duhlik says there was more in the library than we’re bein’ told. He says he knows for a fact that there’s fifty pounds of gold coins in small bags that made it out of the library.”

“Who’s Duhlik then and how many arrows did he take to the brain?”

Laughter greeted this, but the soldier talking about the gold coins would not be deterred.

“Duhlik, short fellow, about yea high, kind of weedy in the face. He’s the one what got the sister who goes bald every time she’s in a motherly way.”

“That ain’t Duhlik, that’s Wistofer, and it ain’t his sister, it’s his wife. Saints and rabid owls, man, can’t you tell them apart by now?”

“Look, it doesn’t matter who said it, right? What matters is that it’s true. We’re marching along here as thin as paupers and the Prince and the major have packed away a fortune in gold coins. Why do you think we’re lugging those cannons around with no shot for them? They stuffed the coins down the barrels see.”

“I don’t think Major Swift Dragon would do that,” Feylan said.

Konowa nodded silently in agreement, but he did admire the other soldier’s view on his general level of craftiness. Hiding valuables down a cannon barrel wasn’t a bad idea at all, at least until you had to use it.

“He’s an officer, ain’t he? They’re every one of them thieves of a sort. You know what it costs to be an officer? Lots, that’s what. You gotta buy extra uniforms for fancy balls and such, mess hall fees, rounds of drinks, nice shiny swords, a horse more times than not, and at least one mistress on the side in addition to a wife and kids. All adds up.”

“That may be true,” Private Feylan said, “but the major’s not like that.”

You just made corporal, my son, Konowa decided.

“He’s an elf, and they’re kinda peculiar when it comes to money,” Feylan continued. “Not too keen on minted coins. Now, if it was something natural like diamonds or rubies on the other hand, he’d be stuffin’ them down his pants and under his shako to be sure.”

And back to private you go.

The first soldier tried to get them back on point. “What I’m saying is, there’s treasure to be found out here. That library was just one spot, but there have to be others. Think about it. We’re going to this fort, right, and it sits on a hill overlooking a trading route. That means those elves have had time to do a little taxing of the merchants’ caravans in return for safe passage. Maybe gold coins, maybe diamonds and rubies. Whatever it is, it’s gotta be worth something. And if them elves ain’t there when we get there I say what’s the harm in snooping around a bit and seeing what we can scrounge?”