David Cook - Soldiers of Ice

They continued unimpeded for several hours, the searchers moving with deadly slowness. Occasionally the interlaced pine boughs gave way to leafless aspens, and Martine could see the sun hanging well above the tallest peak of the mountain wall, making ice and bare rock glint brilliantly. Streamers of windswept snow fumed off the jagged slopes and made the distant sky sparkle like a magical star shower. Such glimpses were brief, for as soon as the openings appeared, the forest closed back in around them.

On another day, the wild beauty of the winter woods would have undoubtedly thrilled the ranger. There was no such enjoyment today, however. Martine’s concentration was too fixed on the dark spaces that lurked between the creaking trees. Bird calls, rabbit tracks, wind-fallen trees, and the bloodstains of a lynx’s kill all acquired and then lost ominous meanings. The eerie silence of the other searchers unnerved her.

A whispered signal brought the line to a halt. While everyone else waited, Jouka silently disappeared down the line to investigate. Martine was impressed by the gnome’s stealth.

It quickly became difficult to remain still. Curiosity and intense cold both made her want to keep moving.

At last the small figure returned. The gnome skied past his own position to confer with her. “We found tracks angling to the northwest. Signal the message down the line.” No more explanation was needed.

From there on, the skiers moved with even greater stealth. Although the valley was certainly well known to the gnomes, they were now in essence entering an unknown region prowled by hidden terrors. While everyone that morning had been placid, if grim, they were now tense. Jouka skied with sword and poles in hand, a technique Martine was not ready to master.

It wasn’t until the sun had started on its long descent toward the western treetops that the searchers ground to a stop. A terse word rippled down the line. “We’ve found them, woman. Come,” Jouka glided over to say. With that, he plunged deeper into the woods. The Harper signaled to the wizard behind her. She waited only long enough for Jazrac to confirm her hand signs before breaking position to follow Jouka’s trail.

The pace now became extraordinarily slow as the ranger scanned every inch for signs of the enemy. Matching her advance were the shadows of the others, flickering among the pines, the thickets, and the hummocks of snow.These farmers were better than she thought, moving as if they were stalking nervous squirrels for the dinner pot.

Gradually the raiders converged on a point where Jouka lay, belly down, in the snow at the base of a large drift. Beyond his position, the stalking was over and the strike would be at hand. Jouka softly issued a string of commands, sometimes drawing the more detailed instructions in the snow. The tired warriors, tight-lipped and tense, listened and then stealthily moved down the drift, each drawing his weapon and wending into the woods to his assigned post. Jouka laid a hand on Martine, signaling her and Vil to stay close.

“What should I do?” Jazrac whispered at her side.

“Don’t you know?” Martine hissed back, astonished by the question. She had assumed that the wizard, older than she and skilled in magic, was naturally experienced at this sort of thing. The look of uncertainty in his eyes said otherwise.

“I abhor fighting,” he explained. “I never was any good in battles. Research and study are my strengths.”

Martine bit back a curse, especially since Jazrac was her superior, but she certainly wished he’d said something before. “Stay back and be ready then,” she snapped, unable to keep a hint of scorn out of her voice. The wizard stiffened but, perhaps knowing his place, accepted her command.

With Jouka’s warriors in position, Martine expected the commander to immediately plunge over the drift and into battle. Instead, Jouka waited and listened for any sounds of their foe. After several minutes with no indication his advancing warriors had been discovered, he undid his skis, jammed them upright into the snow, and then slithered up the bank. Vil and Martine quickly followed suit.

At the top of the drift, the trio took position behind the cover of a thin stand of young birch that broke through the snow. They lay a flank several other gnomes hunkered down in the snow. Snarling voices came from beyond the ridge.

The gnome reached up and cut away a small gap in the drift for the trio to peer through. “There they are,” he whispered. “The brutes.”

Nestled in a bowl of drifts was the gnoll camp. Small dark leather tents dotted the ground. In a quick count, the Harper estimated there were about twenty of them. Along the base of a large drift opposite were the tunneled openings to snow caves like the one she and Krote had shared. About fifteen gnolls, bundled in furs and rags, were in the camp, most of them squatted around the large bonfire at the center of the clearing. With the habit born of combat, Martine noted three guards, none particularly attentive, widely spaced around the camp’s edges. They seemed more concerned about their freezing feet and fingers than the dark woods beyond the drifts.

Carefully the trio slid back just below the top of the drift. “Did you see any sign of Vreesar?” the ranger softly quizzed the other two, wondering if she’d missed the creature. Both gnoll and man shook their heads. The creature’s absence was both a disappointment and a relief. Martine had hoped they would catch the elemental here and end it all, but at the same time, with the fiend gone, their chances were much better.

“What’s the plan.?” Vil asked.

“We outnumber them,” Jouka pointed out. “On my signal, we rush them from all sides. Kill everyone and destroy the camp. Those who are not in camp now can freeze or starve.”

“Not much of a plan,” Martine commented.

“We are not an army. It must be simple.”

“He’s right, Martine,” Vil concurred.

Martine peeked back over the ridge. “We should hold some of our forces back, just in case Vreesar shows up.” The gnome shook his head, the spikes of his armor wavering as he did so. “No. We can’t weaken the attack, and the others would not be enough against the creature anyway. If the monster appears, we and your wizard will fight it.”

The Harper didn’t like the looseness of the idea but, upon consideration, knew that Jouka was right. Even the entire raiding party might not be enough against the elemental. She drew her sword to show she was ready.

Jouka looked down both sides of the line, signaling his warriors to prepare themselves. As the silent signal passed from gnome to gnome, their leader fitted his spiked helm in place. His fierce eyes raged from behind the bizarre smoothness of the black mask.

With a loud battle cry, the gnome heaved to his feet and charged the unsuspecting gnolls, plowing through the waist-deep snow with dreadful abandon. His fellow gnomes caught up the signal and hurled themselves upon the foe, leaping and bounding through the drifts as best as their short legs could carry them. Some twirled swords over their heads, while others hammered their blades against wooden shields. The air was filled with a horrible din, the convoluted call of bloodlust accompanied by the deadly hum and clash of steel.

The unsuspecting gnolls froze in confusion near the fire pit, their savage eyes staring with shock. One recovered quickly, disengaging itself from its stunned fellows to scramble frantically for a bare-bladed sword stuck into the snow. The others sat staring, unable to move for a crucial instant as the gnomes descended upon them.

Almost as surprised as the gnolls, Martine sprang to her feet only moments after Jouka led the charge, but even with her longer legs, she couldn’t keep pace with the enraged gnome. Then suddenly Martine was brought low when her feet hit a patch of hidden ice and dropped her solidly to the ground.