Coldmarch

by Daniel A. Cohen

  Either way, it cast my soul into darkness.

  Spout was gone.

  There was a stranger left standing in my body.

  ‘Nice trick, but you wasted the Frost,’ the Vicaress said. ‘You have nothing left.’

  ‘You don’t know shit!’ Split called in a happy voice, his eyes glazed over once again. ‘We have the Coldmaker!’

  The Vicaress glared him down. ‘Is that what you think, Split of House Suth? Where’s your family?’

  Split took a breath so quickly that it contained a slight squeak.

  The Vicaress licked one of her gloved fingers and pressed it against the fiery blade, igniting a small sizzle. ‘I know who you are, Pedlar. You think the Crier would hold anything back from me? First you breed with one slave, and now you try to protect two more. The Hookmen should have hung you from the Pyramid next to your abomination of a daughter.’

  And there it was.

  Things clicked into place, and I felt a well of sorrow carve into my stomach. No wonder the Pedlar had been in such a state when we’d found him. No wonder he hadn’t believed in the Crier or the Coldmarch any more. How could he be anything other than wretched?

  Split couldn’t meet the Vicaress’s gaze. Instead he buried his hand in the cart, tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

  ‘You don’t have anything to do with the Crier,’ Shilah snarled across the gap.

  The Vicaress gave a lazy shrug. ‘The words of Jadan whores don’t bother me. I know what that symbol on your arm is covering up.’

  ‘Don’t you dare call her that!’ Cam tried to shout, still struggling to find breath.

  ‘What should bother you is the fact that you’re stuck,’ Shilah called across the water, pulling her sleeve down and hiding the rest of the Opened Eye tattoo. ‘You have nothing. And we’ll be long gone by the time you figure out how to get over here.’

  One of the hounds rumbled a low growl. The Vicaress stabbed the beast under the chin. She pulled her blade back so fast I’d have thought it my imagination if not for the pained whimper. Then the Vicaress stabbed the mewling beast behind its left ear. This time the hound made no sound at all, but cowered down against the rocks. Now that the mist had cleared, I was able to make out the scarring on its black skin. All the hounds were scarred. The Vicaress must have tortured them as well.

  ‘I wouldn’t say I have nothing,’ the Vicaress said, looking over her blazing blade as if to check that the fire was unharmed. ‘I have the Crier. And the Crier has whatever he wants.’

  The Vicaress turned and sauntered back to her line of guards. They stood at the ready as she brushed past each of them, touching her blade to their metal poles. A piece of her fire began to climb, quickly circling the shaft of each pike. I had to squint, but it looked as if there was some sort of wick wrapped around each pole.

  The Vicaress stood back and admired the rising buds of her flame. The guards’ faces were stiff, the muscles in their forearms flexing underneath their armour. I yanked Cam and Shilah around behind the goods cart in case the pikes were some sort of weapon that could fire at us, but the guards kept them pointed at the sky.

  The flame on the first pike reached the top, and the orb exploded with a sharp crack. A gigantic trail of red shot up into the sky, blasting upwards at a speed I didn’t know was possible, straining through the air and rising to a point at least as high as the Khat’s Pyramid. Cam almost toppled over, and Split clapped his hands over Picka’s ears.

  The other fires climbed to the top of the remaining pikes. Consecutive blasts sent a dozen more trails into the sky, the spectacle so bright and shocking I imagined it could be seen all the way back in Paphos.

  The red streaks of light lingered in the sky, the bars of a giant, fiery cage. Eventually the trails reached their peaks, arching back down towards the sands. I thought maybe the light was going to make its way down to us, attacking us from above, but after returning a quarter of the way to the land, they fizzled and popped out of existence.

  I blinked, the flashes of light leaving a scorching echo behind my eyelids. Leroi had taught me about flamepowders, how to mix them and pack them so they made colourful puffs, but at the time I had thought the technique no more than a banquet trick. The Inventor in me wanted to know the proportions the Vicaress had used.

  The son in me wanted her dead.

  Shilah’s fingernails were piercing the skin of my arm. ‘What do you—’

  All of a sudden, there was another eruption from the North, this one coming from our side of the tributary.

  I spun around, a plume rising in the distance. This was unsettling to say the least. The line shot straight up just like the others, but this one was a sickening yellow, electric at the edges. Right after, three more plumes raced into the sky. They were all the same abrasive colour, shooting up from behind the dunes.

  I got to my feet and tried to gauge how soon we’d die.

  At best, these new lights originated less than a few thousand paces away, which meant we didn’t have long before the enemy closed in from the North.

  ‘Four,’ Shilah counted, her brows furrowing.

  ‘Hookmen,’ the Vicaress called in casual tones across the gap. ‘You think this stream is going to save you, Little Builder? If Meshua was real, he’d know that the Crier doesn’t leave things to chance.’ She dipped a gloved finger into the waters, and let a few drops fall on the snout of the nearest hound. The monster whimpered, but didn’t flinch away. ‘I’ll just stand here and watch. This should be a most satisfying end.’

  The red plumes from the Vicaress began to drop back to the sands, sizzling as they plummeted. I presumed these streaks were calling the Hookmen from the bowels of the sands, showing them exactly where to slither to find their prey.

  The Vicaress to the South.

  The Singe to the East and West.

  Monsters to the North.

  Fear slammed into my chest.

  Chapter Thirteen

  But so did a new idea.

  My eyes flashed to the main body of the Singe, the boiling waters rough and wide and angry. I handed the bloody stone over to Cam as I stared the current down. ‘Hold this.’

  Cam’s mouth was agape, but I gave him a reassuring look.

  ‘Trust me,’ I said, trying to sound confident. My new idea had a rather high chance of death, but if we stayed on the North shoreline, death was guaranteed. As far as I was concerned the odds were stacked in our favour.

  I bent over the goods cart and tossed open the lips of the Coldmaker bag, revealing the machine. The Opened Eye I’d etched into the bronze stared back. The Coldmaker had stopped humming, so I assumed the vial of tears inside had finally gone dry.

  On previous creations of Abbs, I hadn’t wanted to strain the Frost, in case it had a breaking point. I always stopped the machine after a few moments, only letting a few tears cry out of the vial. But now they’d been falling on the Frost nonstop, exhausting its magic. It should have seemed like a slip-up, but now it appeared more like a secret plan the back of my mind had conjured without me.

  I yanked the bag wider and saw the massive slab of gold at the catch-point. The bronze was painfully Cold against my knuckles as I wiggled the giant Abb free.

  Shilah came up to my side, a dark grin on her face. ‘What do you need from me?’

  My hands trembled around the massive piece of Cold. ‘Strength. Lots of strength.’

  She leaned in and pressed her lips against my cheek. There was almost no pressure behind them, but they were warm, and she let them linger.

  When she pulled away I handed her the Abb. ‘And you hold this.’

  I reached into the cart and found the rest of the rope I’d used to bind the Khatfist. Split brushed passed and dug his hands through the cart as well. He pulled out the case with the puppet inside, and ambled over to the banks of the Singe. Undoing the latches, he whispered something inside.

  I had to ignore the crumbling Pedlar. I began uncoiling the rope. I just hoped there was
enough.

  ‘Are you planning on tying up the Hookmen?’ Cam asked, hugging the bloody rock close to his chest. ‘They’re demons.’

  ‘Demons?’ the Pedlar interrupted, turning his head away from the case. ‘They’re worse than—’

  ‘I don’t think we can fight them with rope is all,’ Cam said a bit louder, cutting Split off and shooting me a fearful look.

  ‘Trust me,’ I said.

  I counted twenty paces of rope. Then I began making a ‘cradleknot’ at the end of the rope, the way Leroi had taught me. I looped the nest around the Abb, which was roughly the size of a small orangefruit. I doubled the cradle, tying it as tightly as I could.

  Then I placed the Coldmaker, food bags, and waterskins – the essentials – out of the way. A strong heave, and I overturned the whole cart, sending the rest of the goods spilling onto the rocks.

  I gave Cam a go-ahead look. ‘Smash it, please.’

  ‘Come again?’ Cam asked.

  ‘I saw what you’ve been hiding in you,’ I said quietly, gesturing to the cart. ‘We’re going to need oars. So if you wouldn’t mind, please smash the cart to pieces.’

  Cam blinked. ‘Did you say oars? Like oars that they have on boats?’

  My fear had been overtaken by giddiness. Or perhaps madness. If we were going to die, we’d die with glory.

  ‘Like they have on boats,’ I said, testing the strength of the rope. ‘And I would say at least four oars would be preferred.’

  Shilah’s eyebrow went up. ‘So you’re really going to …?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ I said under my breath.

  Shilah nodded. ‘My kind of partner.’

  The hounds were still sitting patiently on their hind legs, their fangs hanging menacingly over their black lips.

  The Vicaress’s face grew suspicious. ‘You can’t fight the Hookmen, slaves! They know you! They are you!’

  Cam picked up the bloodied stone and went to work destroying the cart. The cracks of wood elicited a flurry of snarls and barks from the hounds. The Vicaress hushed them quiet with a wave of her dagger.

  Cam’s forearms were starting to blister from where the boiling waters had splashed up, but he wasn’t holding back.

  The Vicaress began laughing, a smooth, serene howl. ‘You have no idea what sort of creatures are descending upon you.’

  ‘Not planning on fighting,’ I said under my breath. ‘Not yet.’

  Split closed the puppet’s case, held it over the waters, and set it adrift on the current. The case was buoyant, and the Singe’s angry current snatched it away, taking it out into the centre waters before carrying it downstream.

  Cam kept splintering the cart’s wood into planks, his face red with effort. I nodded to Shilah, who sifted through the wreckage and selected the longest pieces.

  I began swinging the Abb end of the rope in a circle to check the momentum. If the giant Abb landed too close to the shore the Ice would fuse to the rocks. If that happened, we’d never get offshore before the Hookmen arrived.

  ‘Okay, you two,’ I said, pointing North along the shoreline. ‘Come with me.’

  ‘Towards the Hookmen?’ Cam gulped.

  ‘This might get heavy,’ I said, making sure to walk at least twenty paces upstream from the tributary, dragging the rope behind me. ‘I’m going to need you both. As always.’

  Split was still slumped near the wreckage of the cart, his knees pulled up to his chest as he watched the puppet’s case floating away.

  Once reasonably far enough along, I handed Cam and Shilah one end of the rope and kept the end nesting the Abb for myself. ‘Brace yourselves.’

  Shilah put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. ‘I bet he’s looking down. I bet they both are.’

  I knew she wasn’t talking about the Crier.

  I took the Abb end and wound it in a large circle over my head, getting it up to speed. I hoped I could at least count on Great Gale to nudge my throw steady with a kiss of her wind. I had to make sure to get it far enough into the raging waters.

  At last, heart in my throat, I let the rope fly.

  The Abb soared out perfectly.

  The reaction was immediate.

  The whole section of the River tinged gold, expanses of waves concussing with light and colour. The severe popping of Ice coming to life made the sounds of the little bridge feel like muted footfalls. Golden hue soaked into shorelines, disappearing as fast as it had shot out.

  The spot where the Abb landed beneath the waves coalesced into a solid block. A huge slab breached the surface like a creature starved for air. The massive block grabbed out at the nearest waters, the crystalline sides exploding outwards.

  And gave birth to a raft.

  Made entirely of Ice.

  It was the size of a caravan cart, thick as a slab of Pyramid stone. Stout and mighty, it floated near the shore tethered by the rope, looking ready to carry us down the Singe as far as we needed.

  Then it began to pull.

  The yank nearly launched me off my feet. The current swung the Ice downstream, the rope going taut as a bowstring. Fortunately, Cam and Shilah were ready, digging their heels into the stone. The current was desperate, but we dragged the raft towards the shore, retreating one step at a time. The rope held, acting like a fulcrum and swinging the Ice around, eventually getting it to rest against the shoreline, right in front of the spot where Split was brooding.

  ‘Shivers and F—’ Cam’s throat clammed shut, unable to finish the thought. ‘Miracle.’

  The Vicaress glared at us from the other shore, her face distorted with rage.

  ‘Hurry, Split!’ I yelled. ‘Take Picka and get on the Ice!’

  Split staggered to his feet, looking longingly downstream. One hand grabbed the rope that was anchored in the centre of the Ice, and the other took hold of the camel’s reins. Picka readily hopped onto the raft, as though she was leading the Shepherd. The thick raft barely dipped under their combined weight, but the edges were already starting to hiss, and I knew we didn’t have time to waste. Picka went flat on her belly, braying happily as she scratched her toes back and forth.

  I threaded my forearm through the rope and nodded to Cam and Shilah. ‘Go.’

  ‘Absolutely not,’ Cam said. ‘You’re getting on first.’

  ‘Trust me,’ I said. ‘Go. Don’t forget the oars. And you take the Coldmaker.’

  Cam went to say something, but I shot him a finalizing look.

  The Vicaress was stunned into silence, her flaming blade hovering low by her side. The fire licked the ear of the closest hound, which stretched and tried to shy away without actually lifting its paws.

  ‘Fine,’ Cam said, releasing his grip with a grumble, the tug of the Ice increasing. He tossed the food bags, waterskins and oars onto the raft, and then wrapped the Coldmaker bag across his chest. Using the rope to guide himself, he crawled onto the Ice and inched his way safely to the middle, tossing his arms around the slumped camel for stability. Picka folded her neck back and began licking the spots on Cam’s arms where he’d been burned.

  The Vicaress started screaming something at her army of guards, but they seemed at a loss as to what to do. She kicked a hound, sending it sprawling into one of its monstrous brothers.

  I looked back over my shoulder to Shilah, the rope digging into the bandages on my wrist. ‘Can you believe we made this?’

  She gave a start, and almost dropped the rope. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Shilah.’ I could hear my heartbeat in my ears now. ‘We just made a boat of Ice. Straight out of the Singe. Did you ever think that something—’

  She leaned in and kissed me again, catching mostly cheek, but a small bit of the kiss landed on the corner of my lips. She pressed hard this time, like she actually meant it, and I almost let the rope slip.

  ‘What was that for?’ I asked.

  ‘We did do it, world partner. And we’re going to go together. Like this.’ She crossed behind me, her chest pressing against my back
as she grabbed the section of rope ahead of my hand. The contact of her body brushing against me made me stumble, but I managed not to drop the rope. She jostled in front, both of us maintaining our hold as the other slid in front. Cam was waving us on, shouting for us to hurry. The Vicaress had finally lost her control over the hounds, and they were barking with a fervour that made my guts shake. Her blade slashed back and forth, piercing the hounds, their cacophony of barks morphing into shrill yelps.

  One step at a time Shilah and I scrambled around each other. Holding the rope tight, we made our way to the raft. We reached the shoreline just as the Ice started to buck, the hissing mist it was now producing like a miniature white sandstorm, rising up and blocking our line of sight to the waters.

  ‘On three,’ Shilah said, her face tense with strain. ‘We jump together.’

  I nodded, gathering the slack on my shoulder.

  ‘One. Two. Three!’

  We leaped, still holding onto the rope. Our knees slammed against the Ice. Pain shot through my legs, but the Ice didn’t crack. A little sting was better than slipping into the Singe and being cooked alive.

  Then the raft took off.

  I gathered the rope up behind me, since we were hovering near the shoreline.

  ‘Cam,’ I shouted. ‘Oar! Now!’

  Cam slid one my way, and with the last of my strength I thrust the jagged wood against the rocks. The Ice felt terribly heavy, especially with us on top, but Shilah steadied her hands over mine. Together we shoved out deeper into the waters. The current worked with us, angling the whole slab away from the boilweed and rocks and enemies.

  Our raft swept by the Vicaress and the barking hounds, and I kept the oar ready in case one of the beasts tried to jump. The Vicaress seethed, her fiery blade in hand, but the cover of mist was thick, and the gap between Ice and land had widened enough to leave her helpless.

  After a moment we’d already floated past.

  The enemy was helpless.

  The Hookmen were behind us.

  Now all we had to deal with was the mercy of an angry river dragging us East.