Chris Evans - Ashes of a Black Frost

Somewhere not far enough away, Konowa heard Yimt trying not very hard to hold in a laugh. The temptation to bellow at him only lasted a second as happier thoughts filled his mind. It was crazy, especially when in the further distance he could hear musket fire and howling rakkes, but he believed he could see a future when all this was done. A future with Visyna. How any of them got there in one piece was a mystery still to be solved, but his determination to do so was greater than ever.

Rallie clicked her tongue and the wagon groaned and started moving. Konowa did his best to accept his current state and enjoy the ride, but all the while his mind raced with possibilities of what might be. He vowed to stay awake and allowed himself to close his eyes for only a second as the wagon rocked and swayed across the ground.

He woke up two days later on the deck of a ship, and in a world thrown into total chaos.

Two days?” Konowa asked. His head throbbed, along with the rest of his body, and he’d only been awake for ten minutes. This was worse than drinking Sala brandy with the Duke of Rakestraw. At least he had fun when he did that before paying the price. He reached up and removed the wet cloth from his forehead. It dawned on him that his body was responding again, even if it did so through a curtain of dull, aching pain. He sat up in bed, noticing that he’d been placed in what must have been a senior officer’s quarters on one of Her Majesty’s ships of the line. He was tempted to wonder if this was one of his dreams, but the smell of the ship told him it was all too real. “I’ve been out that long?”

“You had quite a snooze, but considering your recent adventures it’s amazing you’re conscious at all,” Yimt said, plopping down on a small wooden stool by the bed and grinning at him. He handed him a tin cup filled with water. “Besides, you didn’t really miss much. We held off the rakkes and marched to the coast.”

Konowa took the cup with his left hand and downed it in two gulps. He was impressed he held on to it without spilling. He looked over at the black scar on his left shoulder and flexed the muscle. It hurt, but it worked. Maybe he really had needed all that sleep. “You make it sound like a walk in the park, but somehow I doubt it was that,” Konowa said looking closer at the dwarf. A fresh, pink scar creased the dwarf’s right cheek. “I don’t remember that being there last time we talked. And, Viceroy,” Konowa said, shifting slightly to address the diplomat standing quietly by the closed door, “you appear to have acquired a couple of additional war wounds yourself.” His uniform was a mess of rips and tears. The man was a far cry from the bloated spit-and-polish bureaucrat Konowa had met back in Nazalla. Pimrald “Pimmer” Alstonfar had been in the field, and it looked like it agreed with him.

Pimmer blushed. “Just doing my part. I really didn’t do anything heroic.”

“In that case, how about you two get me up to speed on what’s going on?” Konowa said, looking out the one porthole in the room and seeing only darkness. The room itself was lit by a hanging lantern which created far more shadows than Konowa felt comfortable with. He turned back to see Pimmer’s crestfallen face and realized his mistake. “But of course that can wait a few minutes. Regimental Sergeant Major, I suspect the Viceroy is being a bit too modest. Perhaps you could tell me how he comes to look like a gypsy warrior instead of one of Calahr’s civil servants?”

Pimmer beamed as Yimt recounted the last two days. It was as much as Konowa had expected.

“Rakkes hounded us the whole way. Persistent, I’ll give them that. Just won’t give up those things, but the Viceroy has picked up a few of your bad traits, Major. He led three bayonet charges into them. Scattered them to hell and gone. They definitely weren’t in the mood for his style of negotiating.”

Konowa tried to imagine the diplomat trundling across the snow and laying waste to a horde of marauding rakkes and the really startling thing was, he could see it clearly.

It was Pimmer’s turn to return the compliment. “My efforts pale in comparison to that of the RSM here. His leadership and savvy saw us through one tight squeeze after another. And he is quite simply a maestro with a drukar. Such precision. . I dare say, he could trim the fuzz off a bumble bee in midflight.”

“Indeed,” Konowa said, deciding to change the subject before the two praised each other to godlike status. “I see I’m on a ship. I take it we made it to Tel Martruk?”

Pimmer jumped in. “And not just us, but a good portion of the Calahrian fleet. They managed to rescue most of the force that landed at Nazalla and came down the coast looking for us. Seems Her Majesty’s Scribe had something to do with that. Do you recognize this ship? It’s the Black Spike . Seemed appropriate to put the Iron Elves on it again. I understand you two share quite a history.”

Memories of the island assaults flooded Konowa’s mind and he quickly pushed them aside. “That we do. RSM, what’s the roster? How many?”

At this the room grew eerily quiet. “Counting the 3rd Spears, the gun crews, civilians like your parents, Miss Tekoy and Miss Synjyn, we muster sixty-seven.”

The number burned into Konowa like a brand. Just a few short months ago they’d started with close to three hundred. “And the shades?”

Yimt’s jovial demeanor faltered. “Nary a peep since that explosion. Ally’s gone. Just. . gone, and it looks like he took Her Emissary and all the dead with him. Even when someone new goes down, their body turns to ash, but we don’t see the shade.”

Konowa wasn’t sure he was ready to face it, but if he didn’t ask now it would only be worse later. “Who did we lose on the march to the coast?”

Yimt scratched at his beard. “Lieutenant Imba and most of the 3rd Spears. Only five of them made it. And we lost half the gun crews.”

It was a heavy blow. Imba had been a true leader, an officer destined for so much more. The bravery of the 3rd Spears was already legendary, and their duty with the Iron Elves would only cement that reputation, and rightly so. Konowa could tell there was more, though. “Who else?”

Yimt sighed. “Several soldiers are missing, including Private Inkermon. And Tyul has yet to turn up. Your mother is sick with worry about him. She sent Jir out looking for him, but we haven’t seen anything since. Not sure we’d get that elf on the ship anyway. He’s gone so far round the bend he can see the back of his own head.”

Konowa sat up fully in bed, ignoring the pain. Jir would turn up, he knew it. He had to. That bengar had kept him sane during his banishment. As crushing as it was to come so close to his elves and not see them, to lose Jir would hurt so much worse. His loyalty and companionship meant more to him than he liked to admit. Through Jir he did connect with nature, even if it was in its most predatory state. The bengar actually made him more elf than he otherwise would have been. No, Jir will return.

“Why haven’t you sent out search parties for the missing soldiers?” Konowa asked.

A cannon broadside boomed in the distance before Yimt could reply. Two more followed in quick succession. “That’s why. The town is deserted. About the only thing left alive in it now are rakkes. The ships have been shelling the waterfront to keep the buggers at bay. I hate leaving anyone behind, but orders is orders. We’re setting sail within the hour. That’s why we had to come and wake you, recovered or not.”

It was a blow to realize just how quickly the Empire was collapsing, but it gave Konowa renewed strength. “About bloody time. We should land on the Hyntaland in a few days with good winds. You know, I’ve wanted to throttle His Highness more times than not, but he’s finally seeing things right.”