Chris Evans - Ashes of a Black Frost

“That won’t be possible, Viceroy,” Konowa said, thinking fast. “I’ll need you at the rear with the Prince. If the fort is no longer held by the elves there could now be a Hasshugeb tribe in there. I don’t speak the language, you do. I can’t risk having you out front getting shot before you get a chance to talk.”

“I do make a large target, I’m afraid,” Pimmer said, looking between Konowa and the RSM. Neither one laughed. “But rest assured, Major, it isn’t vainglory that necessitates my being up front with you. It’s a bit more pedestrian this time. Not only am I the only one who can speak the language, I’m the only one who can read it, too. The writing on this map contains details of the path up to the fort not drawn here. The cartographer chose to keep some aspects of the route secret and so instead of drawing them chose to put them down in writing, ensuring only a native would be able to decipher it. Rather clever, actually. Much smarter than the other Birsooni’s attempt I dare say.”

Konowa interrupted before Pimmer could pull the other map back out. “Can’t you just tell me what it says now?”

Pimmer was already shaking his head. “You’d think that, but there was a real mind at work here. Certain details of the path are missing on purpose. The writing that accompanies the map fills in the blanks, but they aren’t simple instructions.

“You see, these lines are riddles. And not just your run-of-the-mill children’s game either, but riddles referencing ancient tribal legends. Absolute genius. I mean, look at this part here,” he said, showing the map to Konowa and Aguom who dutifully looked. “What, for example, would you do when you come to a fork in the path and you read ‘The lamb with wolves’ teeth suckles from the camel on a moonless night?’”

Have another drink was the first thought that entered Konowa’s head, but he kept it to himself. “I’ll admit, I can’t begin to imagine what that means, but does it really matter? I can see the fort from here. We simply have to climb up. With or without the map and its secrets that really shouldn’t be that hard.”

“Except for the booby traps.”

That got Konowa’s attention. Aguom stiffened. Soldiers trained to fight an enemy they could see. Hidden traps though were like snakes lying in tall grass. There was something fundamentally unfair about them, although the enemy of course thought differently. “It says that? What kind of traps?”

Pimmer rubbed his chin in thought. “Well, in this particular case the camel can only refer to Suljak Emyan who was famous for carting about a massive main tent that could be seen for miles in the desert like a great camel’s hump. One moonless night, or so legend has it, his guards made the unfortunate mistake of allowing a Guara assassin into his tent thinking the man was one of the Suljak’s servants. You can guess what happened next,” Pimmer said, making a slashing motion with his hand across his throat.

Konowa offered Pimmer a weak smile. “I’m still not clear how this helps us. What’s the trap?”

“No way to tell from here, but I suspect it will be something that looks innocuous enough but will in fact be quite deadly.”

Konowa still wasn’t convinced, but it was time to move. “Very well, Viceroy, I can see the benefit of having you with me. Please collect whatever you’ll need and report-return here so that we can begin.”

Pimmer smiled and reached out to pat Konowa on the arm then appeared to think better of it and turned it into a wave that meandered into a salute that only the most charitable, or farsighted, would consider military. “I shall go fetch my pistol and be back in a moment.”

Aguom coughed. “You aren’t carrying it with you now?”

Pimmer made a patting gesture on his robes. “Afraid not. In fact, it seems I’ve left my saber back at the camel, too. Takes a bit of getting used to carting all these weapons around. I don’t know how you do it.”

Konowa made sure not to catch the regimental sergeant major’s eye lest one or both of them burst out with something they’d regret. “As a general rule, Viceroy, you might wish to keep your pistol and other weapons on your person and in a position to use at a moment’s notice. As you’ve seen, things are a bit dicey out here. There’s no telling where or when we’ll be in battle next.”

Pimmer straightened up at the idea and fixed Konowa with a hard stare. “Then it’s time we get going,” he said. “You know, up until your arrival my battles were fought with the quill, strategically planned tea breaks, and wine-soaked dinner parties for the coup de grace.”

“I think it’s safe to say those days are over for the foreseeable future,” Konowa said. “A saber in hand is your best friend now.”

“What a wonderful phrase and terrible thought,” Pimmer said, then turned and strode off to fetch his gear.

Konowa watched him go and then motioned to Aguom to follow. They walked a short distance away so they were well out of earshot of the troops.

“Right, I’m splitting us into two groups.” He knew it was risky to divide their strength when about to face the enemy, but he didn’t see he had much choice. Marching the entire column at Suhundam’s Hill meant following the caravan track that wound its way directly below it and well within range of muskets or arrows.

“A good move, sir, if you don’t mind my saying so,” Aguom said. “If we took the whole column straight on we could find out the enemy is somewhere out there in the desert and we’d be pinned up against the rock. Splitting us up gives us options, and in the snow and the dark the enemy will have a hard time seeing us, hopefully at least until it’s too late.”

Konowa stepped back a pace and studied the RSM. “I knew sergeants were the backbone of the army and put there to keep officers from making too many mistakes they might not live to regret, but I didn’t know they were tacticians, too. I’ve been remiss in not consulting with you sooner.”

“Kind of you to say, Major, but I actually picked it up talking to another officer with us.”

Konowa looked past him to the assembled soldiers a short distance away. “What, the naval ensign in charge of the guns? Where did a fish learn how to fight on land?”

Aguom shook his head. “No, sir. He was killed by one of those flying trees. A branch went right through his neck. Quite a mess.” Aguom pointed at his own neck indicating where the branch had struck and killed the naval ensign.

Konowa reached up toward his own neck then brought his hand back down. Without intending to he hunched his shoulders and tucked his chin in a little. He realized Aguom was staring at him and reluctantly Konowa forced himself to raise his head and expose the flesh of his neck to the cold, night air. He had a newfound sympathy for turtles. “If not the ensign then. . wait, you don’t mean the Viceroy?” Pimmer was clearly bright and capable enough in a maddening, eccentric way, but he didn’t know command of soldiers in the field.

“No, sir, not the Viceroy. It’s Lieutenant Imba, sir.”

Konowa didn’t recognize the name. “We have a Lieutenant Imba? Where did we pick him up and where’s he been hiding?”

The RSM looked at the ground then back at Konowa. “He was one of the volunteers from the 3rd Spears. He was afraid you wouldn’t let him join if you knew he was an officer, so he begged me to keep his secret. He took off his rank and blended in. His men admire him greatly. I know his clan. Fisherman for the most part and warriors when necessary.”

Konowa looked back toward the soldiers. “Lieutenant Imba, to me.”

A soldier detached himself from the group and started over. The remaining men began looking everywhere except at Konowa. They all knew, he realized, kicking himself for not spotting the deception back in Nazalla, but he’d had too much on his mind. As Lieutenant Imba marched he carried himself like an officer, a confident one at that. There was an easy grace to his gait. Almost as tall as Konowa, he never averted his gaze as he approached. He held his head up just a fraction higher than was comfortable in order to jut out his chin and throw his shoulders back. The result was subtle yet powerful. He conveyed authority without appearing aggressive. Konowa knew he stomped around like a bull half the time. It had worked, especially in the early going of his career when he was determined to prove elves weren’t all a bunch of flower-sniffing dandies, but maybe it was time for a more thoughtful approach to life’s challenges. . although perhaps not too thoughtful.