Coldmarch

by Daniel A. Cohen

  Cam’s face had gone wan. Shilah’s wheels were turning fast, her blade already unstrapped and gleaming.

  I sat down on the rocks and tried to tune out Picka’s furious whinnies. She must have been able to hear the snarling of the hounds before we could.

  ‘Dump the goods from the cart,’ Shilah ordered. ‘We can make a raft.’

  ‘It’s too damned thin to float, and will never carry us all,’ Split said, still laughing. He reached into an inner pocket of his tunic and pulled out a vial I hadn’t known about, shaking the grey powder. Uncapping it, he poured out a bit of the Dream onto his finger and snorted it all in one deep sniff before I could protest. Sighing with relief, he jiggled the vial in each of our directions. ‘No Droughtweed to make it pleasant, but anyone else want to at least be numb for death?’

  I shook my head, although I was very tempted. ‘What else?’

  ‘Spout,’ Cam said, his voice nearly breaking. ‘What if we just put the machine on the raft and float it downriver so at least—’

  ‘Hold on,’ I said, raising a hand, an idea flashing in the back of my mind.

  I slipped the bag off the Coldmaker and let the Sun take one last look at the machine that deserved to be its undoing.

  Shilah came to my side and touched my elbow. ‘What are you thinking?’

  I motioned to the Coldmaker, and then brought our hands to the switch together. ‘Do it with me.’

  We turned the machine on, stirring up its magic.

  Not magic, I reminded myself. Tinkering.

  No. It was magic.

  Perhaps nothing as holy as a miracle, but here was a machine that proved why our people were in fact just as chosen as everyone else. Here was an invention that proved the Opened Eye, and could break every kind of suppression in the Khatdom. Here at my feet was our salvation; a salvation that was not only earned, but necessary. There had to be a reason why the machine was allowed to exist, why we were able to get it this far. It couldn’t all be some accident.

  In the distance, the barks were now deeper and more menacing.

  Shilah pressed closer against me as the air grew strange and turbulent around us, the machine making a new Abb. She grabbed a fistful of Cam’s shirt and pulled him close as well, the three of us huddling around the Coldmaker as it hummed.

  The gold gathered at the catch-point, and the wind picked up, all the air around us dropping in temperature. I glanced at the offshoot of the Singe blocking our path, which seemed to have grown angrier, the white bubbles popping at an alarming rate.

  The new golden Abb grew from the size of a pinhead to a Sobek egg in a matter of moments, the shine enough to allow me to relax a little, the knot in my stomach unravelling. While the Abb continued to pile on itself, the machine humming like all was well in the World Cried, I grabbed two Abbs from the bag’s pouch – there were six left in total – and took Shilah over to the rushing waters blocking our path.

  I closed my eyes and tried to say the words from my heart instead of just my throat, which was difficult because that particular path through my chest felt jammed with fear. ‘Shemma hares lahyim criyah Meshua ris yim slochim.’

  Drop the bucket.

  I gave one Abb to Shilah.

  ‘Together,’ I said.

  She nodded and we let them go as one.

  The surface of the water buckled as the gold broke through, the beads shocking an entire section of the offshoot. The intense crackling sound echoed across the rocks and water, loud and violent, and in the distance the hounds’ barks answered with a rousing curiosity. Crystal arms of Ice reached out from the impact points of the gold beads, snaking in a hundred directions at once, broadening into something strong and solid. The Singe didn’t seem to know how to react, its waters only adding to the phenomenon, the hot white bubbles smoothing out and becoming slick and clear. The cloud of white mist rising off the waters hissed upwards, obscuring the sky with ethereal waves, until the fading Sun could no longer see us.

  My heart surged with hope as the platform of Ice flexed outwards from the shore of the offshoot before the current could pull it away. In a matter of moments, the white blockage spanned to both shores, its crystalline claws digging into the rocks and sand and boilweed roots on each side and gripping tightly. The rushing waters bowed to the Ice, dipping underneath the slick mass.

  And just like that, we had a way across.

  ‘Come on!’ I shouted over the hissing waters, which pushed at the edges of our small Ice bridge. I should have been shocked, frozen over with awe, but the Singe’s reaction to the Abbs didn’t surprise me. It felt like something I always knew would be true.

  It was my people who’d bested the River before.

  ‘We need to move fast!’ I shouted.

  Picka gave a happy grumble, looking at me as if she wasn’t that stunned either, her toes clopping her way across the glossy rocks.

  ‘Shivers.’ Cam gulped hard, swaying on his feet. ‘And Frosts.’

  Shilah slowly tied the knife back beneath her shorts, the lower half of her face dropping in awe, her eyes remaining hard.

  Split just blinked slowly, staring at the Ice mound. His beady eyes had become so wide that I could finally see that they were a delightful green.

  ‘Come on!’ I yelled again, grabbing the Coldmaker, leaving it humming. I closed up the lips of the bag and threw the strap around my neck, positioning the machine at my stomach instead of my side; this way I could pull the cart behind me. Split seemed to be in no state to bear a burden. Even through the canvas bag I could feel the intense Cold caught in the bronze walls of the machine, sending a shock through my body.

  I took hold of the cart’s handles and began heaving it towards the Ice.

  I thought I heard Split gasp about ‘Meshua’ over the crackling, but I didn’t have time to argue.

  Shilah moved around to the back of the cart and began pushing until we scraped through the rocks and reached the crystal platform. I turned to offer her a nod of thanks, and when our stares connected something strange passed my way.

  It almost felt like a challenge.

  Confused, I turned back to the Ice and put a foot out to see if the bridge was even crossable. Stepping down with half of my weight, the mist rushing up over my leg, I found the opaque material to be solid, although it did have a bit of give. The block probably didn’t stretch all the way to the bottom of the waters, and I had a feeling it was holding steady mostly by the shore.

  We had to act fast. The Ice would get eaten from the bottom up.

  ‘Careful, Spout!’ Cam called. ‘Are you sure—’

  My first step out nearly sent me toppling sideways, my foot slipping out from underneath me. Right away I realized that I couldn’t treat the Ice like rock or sand or metal. This material was slick and ancient, and demanded more respect than that.

  I gave the Ice a nod of apology and then stepped on with care, dragging the cart behind me. I prayed the whole thing didn’t give and send me sputtering to the bottom of the waters, my bones being boiled on the way down, although I would have bet a swift death would be better than what the Hookmen and hounds had planned.

  Shilah continued to push the cart from behind so the burden wasn’t entirely on me. The crackling of the Ice was heavy in my ears, and I held my breath with each gentle step I took. Slow and careful.

  Three.

  Five.

  Seven.

  Before I knew it I was across, back on solid rock.

  Still far from safe.

  I turned and found Shilah suspended in the middle of the Ice now, her back straighter than ever, gripping on to the rear of the cart for support. Her face was steely and determined, and I rolled the cart the rest of the way, bringing her over to me. She slid off the Ice and grabbed the back of my neck, placing our foreheads together.

  She smelled of sand and Ice and sweat, and too soon we’d broken contact.

  Cam and Split exchanged a look from the other side of the tributary. If I hadn’t known better,
I would have thought Cam was disappointed. The hounds were getting louder, and the rest of our group had no choice but to cross.

  Some of the frosty mist was lingering in Shilah’s hair, and, without thinking, my fingers touched her glistening braid, enjoying the cool sensation of her rough locks. She raised a coy eyebrow, and I blinked with embarrassment, backing away and setting the Coldmaker down beside the cart.

  ‘Get them over here,’ I told her, and then began frantically digging through the cart for the large rock. I still didn’t understand why Split had wanted to keep such a horrendous reminder, but now I was grateful. The North side of the offshoot had only boilweed and pebbles along the banks, and I needed something heavy that wouldn’t shatter on impact.

  Shilah turned and began coaxing our remaining flock across the bridge, assuring them that it was safe. Even over the hiss and crackle of the River nibbling the edges of the Ice, I could hear the barks getting more real and ravenous. I could see the flicker of a fiery blade cresting a distant dune, and from the multiple roving shadows, it looked as if it wasn’t just the Vicaress marching towards us.

  I tossed out linens and parasols and jewellery boxes, finally finding the hefty stone resting in the bottom corner of the cart. I drew it out, my fingers trembling as they brushed the red stains over its surface.

  I had killed today.

  Even though Split was the one who put stone to flesh, I hadn’t stopped him.

  I was a murderer too.

  And I regretted nothing.

  I lifted the stone over my head, testing the weight as Cam hunched over on all fours like a beetle as he crossed the Ice, scurrying in a frantic manner. His eyes appeared almost entirely closed as he scuttled, but he made it to our shore. He rolled onto his back on the muddy shoreline, his chest rapidly rising and falling.

  ‘Sorry,’ he wheezed out, looking at me with profound relief. ‘It’s not that I’m scared of drowning. I’m just really scared of drowning.’

  ‘We all are,’ I said. Then I looked across the offshoot at Split, who was scratching his thigh and holding Picka’s reins loosely in one hand. In no way did he look prepared to cross.

  ‘You go on without us!’ Split called out, scratching his thigh. ‘We can stall them. I can talk my way out of this!’

  ‘They’ll kill you!’ Shilah screamed. ‘And we need you! Get moving right now!’

  Split shook his head, pulling Picka’s snout against his stomach. The dwarf camel brayed and stamped her feet, looking just as impatient with the Pedlar as the rest of us. ‘I can’t do it,’ Split said. ‘Take care of Baba Levante! Don’t let her get wet, and don’t worry, I can talk my way out of—’

  Shilah marched back across the Ice, her step firm on the slick surface. The crystal platform had more give this time, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before the whole thing got washed away by the current.

  Shilah crossed the Ice and shoved a hand in Split’s shirt, taking out the Dream vial. She turned and hurled the powder as far as she could into the Singe.

  Split groaned. His expression glazed over, and he mumbled something under his breath.

  Shilah undid her knife, the tip hovering right over Split’s throat. ‘I swear to the Crier above I’ll slash you a hundred different ways unless you get to the other side. You’re a part of our group, and you’re not abandoning us.’

  Split went to say something, but Shilah jabbed the tip of the blade into his shoulder. She pierced skin and left the blade there for a moment, before wrenching it back. Blood came out with the metal.

  Split screamed, a hand going to his shoulder, but his eyes came back into focus. Nodding at Shilah, he took Picka’s reins and began scraping his way across the Ice, leading the camel at his side. Shilah was right behind him. The hissing at the edges of the tiny bridge grew louder, as the camel and Pedlar weighed a considerable amount more than the rest of us combined, but the Ice managed to hold, and after a tense moment everyone was on the right side.

  The hounds finally crested the dunes, their barks needles in my ears.

  The beasts were far more horrible than I could have imagined.

  Their sleek bodies were inky black, and had no fur. They moved at a terrifying speed, muscles rippling beneath their skin. Eyes black as a starless night bored into us, and their mouths frothed over with drool and hunger.

  Picking up the pace, they whipped across the rocks and sand, their legs impossibly fast.

  They were headed right for us.

  Shilah grabbed a handful of my shirt. ‘Do it, Spout!’

  I brought the rock up and smashed it over and over against the edge of the Ice.

  It wouldn’t break.

  Heart and bile in my throat, I kept smashing. It felt like trying to cut a diamond with breath. I put every ounce of strength I had into each blow, chipping away small shards, but it wasn’t enough. The hounds were closing in, snarling. My injured wrist exploded with pain, but the bridge began to groan under the stress of my attack.

  Shilah dropped to her knees at my side and flipped her knife upside down, slamming the Ice with the ornate handle. Time was running out. The hounds were thrashing their way across the land, close enough that I could see their gleaming fangs, stained red. They didn’t care about the Ice or the offshoot. They wanted blood. They weren’t going to stop.

  A fiery slash moved across the dunes, in the hounds’ wake.

  The Vicaress.

  Cam grabbed a small bust from Split’s cart, bringing it down with shocking brutality. Chunks of Ice were demolished. His face was caught in a vicious sneer and he kept smashing the bust down at the shore. The cracks were astounding. Shilah and I joined him with all our might. Boiling water erupted from beneath, spraying our arms and hands and faces, burning, seething.

  The Ice screamed in protest.

  The hounds were seconds away. Their shoulders bulged. Their mouths snarled. I could see death dripping from their snouts.

  Cam yelled as he swung. Shilah howled like a wraith. I was swinging so hard my whole left arm went numb. Picka was all panic now, her bleating deafening. Split finally dropped beside us, smashing down with his fists and crying out.

  The Ice clung with its last hope.

  Cam raised the bust over his head, and with a warrior cry he slammed the marble head down once more.

  The Ice broke free.

  The Singe wrenched the last of the bridge loose, the resulting crack sounding like an entire caravan cart being ripped in two.

  The explosive noise was enough to halt most of the hounds, but one had already leaped, snarling and gnashing its teeth as it arced through the air. Its sharp claws pierced the Ice just as the whole bridge spun sideways and washed down the offshoot.

  The terrifying creature fell flat against the Ice and made a surprisingly tender whimper as it was swept away.

  We were saved.

  Shilah collapsed sideways onto me as she gasped for air, but she managed to hold the knife out just in case.

  Cam fell to the shore, clutching the bust close.

  Split stared at his bleeding palms.

  The other hounds barked and howled at the far shoreline, gnashing their teeth and clawing scars into the rock face, but noise was their only way to attack.

  Cam was breathing so hard I thought his lungs might fall out and float down the tributary as well. But he was alive and unharmed except for a few water burns on his hands.

  I kissed my fingers and held them to the sky.

  Split raised two knuckles towards the fading Sun. ‘That’s right! Keep your beasts over there, you overgrown firecracker! Meshua, you bastard!’

  We slowly backed away from the shore, keeping our eyes across the span of water at our approaching enemies. The Vicaress and her army didn’t seem to be in a hurry, staying in formation as they moved.

  A group of sleek-armoured guards trailed in her wake, their pikes high and their swords polished. The poles didn’t have blades at the end, but rather rounded tips made of what looked like cloth. I
couldn’t fathom the use of such things, but at least the men were regular guards and not Hookmen.

  The Vicaress was up front, her black dress clinging around her curves, ambling with a grace that shouldn’t have been possible on such terrain. Even Shilah looked clumsy by comparison.

  As the Vicaress approached, sauntering too slowly for the occasion, the hounds quickly dropped their hind legs, going silent without so much as a command. The Vicaress slithered between them, patting one beast on the head. Then she poised herself at the edge of the shoreline.

  We looked at each other across the boiling waters, close enough that I could see the startling blue in her eyes, shining even in the fading light. Her dark hair was coiffed with golden pins, each one tipped with the Closed Eye, and her lip grease was precise. Everything about her added to her regal and stunning nature, but I knew all that beauty was just a clever disguise, allowing the true form underneath to roam the World Cried unchecked.

  The hounds were grotesque, but the Vicaress was the real demon.

  ‘You lost the Khat a favourite pet,’ she said quietly, eyes following the floating hound down the tributary. ‘Not good, Camlish Tavor.’

  ‘Well, you lost me an uncle, you damned bitch!’ Cam shouted back, the veins popping out on his forehead.

  The Vicaress ignored Cam, her face sidling back towards me. Standing just across the tributary was the woman who’d slaughtered one of my closest friends. Here was the monster who’d killed my father, just to make a point. I should have been consumed by such a righteous fury that I could have walked across the water and added another bloody tally to Split’s stone.

  Yet there I lingered, trembling. I was a scared little boy once more.

  Perhaps she’d killed more of me than she’d left alive.

  A smile curled onto the Vicaress’s face as the army of guards filed in at her back.

  ‘Hey, Little Builder,’ she said to me, waving her flaming dagger in front of her face. ‘Been looking for you.’

  I buckled.

  Little Builder is what Abb used to call me. I don’t know if my old Barracksmaster Gramble would have told her that, or if it had come from my friend Moussa when she’d tortured him, or if she’d cut it out of the source himself before she took Abb’s life.