Chris Evans - Ashes of a Black Frost

Konowa reached out to grab Feylan even as the sound of stone sliding on stone reached his ears.

He was too late. Konowa’s hand touched Feylan’s robe as a sharp snap echoed off the rocks around them.

No one move!” Pimmer hissed, his voice carrying far more authority than Konowa had ever heard.

Feylan stood stock-still with Konowa’s hand frozen on his shoulder.

“You must have triggered it, Major,” Feylan said. “It sounded like it was behind me.”

Konowa looked down at his boots, but could see nothing that indicated a trap. “No. I counted the right number of steps. I didn’t touch anything.”

“You’ve got the elf ears, sir, but I’m telling you I heard it right behind me.”

Konowa started to doubt himself. His hearing was far from perfect. Too many musket volleys and cannon blasts had taken their toll. Maybe Feylan was right. A thought dawned on Konowa and he twisted his body to the left so that he could look back down the steps while keeping his boots rooted to the stone. Pimmer was picking his way carefully through the men on the stairs as he climbed up to Konowa. He stopped a few steps below him and right behind Private Otillo. Konowa counted the steps back to Otillo.

“You stupid, stupid arse. You’re standing on the trigger.”

Otillo looked down then back up. Unbelievably, the soldier’s voice still sounded defiant. “Everything’s iced up. It should have been fine.” Konowa could see why Otillo had been bounced from his previous regiment. The lad refused to learn.

It was all Konowa could do not to fly back down the steps and throttle him. The fool had risked his life and all of theirs because of his don’t-give-a-damn attitude.

“Viceroy, what do we do now?” Konowa asked.

“This is most distressing. I’ll need a moment,” he said, burying his head in the map as he studied it.

“Quickly,” Konowa said. “We’re rather exposed out here.”

“Yes, yes, I do understand the urgency.” He looked up from his map and the expression on his face already told Konowa the answer. “There’s nothing on here about what to do if a trap is triggered.”

“Then I’ll just jump,” Otillo said, crouching in preparation.

“No!” Pimmer shouted. “You could be standing on a swing lever-”

Otillo jumped. The sound of iron pins scraping across stone echoed off the rocks a moment before the stone step he was standing on gave way. The stones plummeted into a dark chasm. Otillo’s momentum would have carried him to safety, but the second part of the trap now released. An iron bar buried in the rock debris and hinged to the stone step swung up and over as the weight of the stones fell. The bar caught Otillo square on the top of his head with a sickening crack, spraying blood ten feet into the air.

Otillo fell without a sound. A moment later the sound of crashing rock reverberated from the hole.

Ignoring Pimmer’s shouts to stay still, Konowa raced to the edge of the hole and looked down. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Even with his elven vision it was difficult to see all the way down, and for that he was thankful. He saw enough to know Otillo was dead. Black frost was already limning his body

“I tried to warn him,” Pimmer said. “I. .”

“It’s not your fault, Pimmer,” Konowa said through clenched teeth, not caring that he hadn’t addressed him by his title in front of the men. “He didn’t listen, and it cost him his life.”

“It’s just that I-”

“We need to keep moving. Now.” Konowa knew his anger was driving his actions, and for the moment he was going to let it. One of his men had been killed because of stupidity, and because he didn’t take his commanding officer’s warning seriously enough. That was not going to happen again.

“Viceroy, if it’s safe, climb up and over the rocks and get back on the steps here. Move.”

Folding up his map, Pimmer clambered over the rocks piled high on either side of the stone stairs and past the gaping hole where Otillo fell. The remaining soldiers quickly followed suit until everyone was bunched up on the far side. Konowa held up a hand for Feylan to wait.

“Otillo’s death is my fault. I told him not to tread on that step and he didn’t listen.”

A couple of the soldiers started to protest this, but he cut them off with a curt wave of his hand. “The next time I give an order and it’s disobeyed the soldier won’t have to worry about a booby trap because I’ll take his head clean off. Is that understood?”

Konowa looked each of them in the eyes. Everyone nodded, including Pimmer.

“I’ll keep lead,” Feylan said. It wasn’t a question.

“You can only push your luck so far,” Konowa said, prepared to choose another soldier to take over for Feylan.

“I’ve come this far and I want to see it through. I don’t know who set these traps, but they aren’t going to beat me. I’ll get us to the top. Safely.”

Konowa could tell the soldier wouldn’t be easily swayed. He could give him a direct order to go to the back of the line and he’d obey, but there was something in his voice that told Konowa that Feylan needed to do this.

“Very well. Private Feylan has lead. Let’s go.”

They moved out silently, each footstep a well chosen affair. Their pace was definitely slower, but Konowa wasn’t going to chasten them. They were all shaken by Otillo’s death, especially because it had been so senseless. It was a harsh lesson to learn, but they were all very keen on counting now.

After a hundred steps Konowa thought about calling for a break. Climbing on ice-coated, uneven steps was bad enough, but looking and listening for signs of a booby trap made it exhausting. Every nerve and muscle was screaming with tension. A small rock tumbled down past Konowa and he almost pulled his saber to stab it.

Easy, easy, he told himself.

He turned his attention back to Feylan, watching where he put each foot. Feylan’s right boot raised and started to swing forward to the next step, but then paused in midair and came back down. Konowa tensed and put up his hand to signal to Pimmer behind him to stop. Feylan crouched down and brought his musket to rest on his hip, the bayonet pointing straight ahead. After several seconds, he quarter-turned so that Konowa could see the side of his face. His jaw was clenched as he whispered out the side of his mouth.

“Rakke. Boulder. Five yards ahead on the right.”

Konowa drew in a breath and froze in place. How was that possible? He hadn’t sensed a thing. He focused on the black acorn and felt its cold power. Yes, there was danger. He’d become so accustomed to the pain of the cold that he hadn’t even noticed it. He inched up the step until his chest was pressed against Feylan’s back and he could rest his chin on his shoulder. He let his gaze travel up the steps and then to the right.

The back of his neck shivered uncontrollably. Feylan was right. Not five yards ahead a rakke crouched on a rock looking down the path they were climbing. How had the beast not seen them?

“Well spotted,” Konowa whispered.

Feylan moved his head just a fraction to the left. “I see three more behind it. And I think there are more behind those.”

The shivering moved to Konowa’s stomach.

He counted over a dozen rakkes perched on boulders. As he looked further up he realized that what he’d taken for more rocks were in fact rakkes. Scores of them. Thoughts of the bravado he’d displayed just a couple of hours before when he’d come up with this plan made him feel foolish. Instead of charging full speed with his saber flashing he wondered if he had just led them all to their deaths. Otillo had already paid the price. Were the others next?