Reckoning

by David Adams

  He went to the tent where the two prisoners were being held, more deserters. There had been a steady stream of them, all telling tales of the atrocities their own army was committing in Dalusia, stories no one wanted to believe, even though deep down most had the suspicion that they were true. Most of these men were veterans of long campaigns, not shirkers, and fear hadn’t caused them to flee the battlefield. And there were far too many telling the same types of stories for it to be coincidence.

  The men in the tent glanced up at Yosh through bruised, swollen eyes. More work of Branst and his ilk. Yosh wouldn’t have allowed it had he been present, but he had been conveniently away. He shook is head, pushing back the guilt of inaction. The past was done. He couldn’t change it, but the future was another matter.

  He spoke in a fevered whisper as he untied the men. “For what it’s worth, I believe you. Things aren’t much better here than in Dalusia these days. I can’t stop it, doubt anyone can, but I don’t have to make it worse, and if I can save a few innocent lives, I will.”

  One of the men started to ask a question. “What do you—?”

  “Explanations later. I must be swift. I lead twelve men. At least half…they will destroy this town and kill a large number of innocents over harboring you two, and over some religious items found in one of the homes.”

  “We only arrived here hours before your men,” one of the prisoners protested. “These people did nothing more than offer shelter and food to a pair of soldiers coming home from war.”

  “I know,” said Yosh. “None of it matters. Not in these dark days.”

  “What would you have us do?”

  “I’ve had my men posted at the edge of town with orders to let no one flee. What that really did was spread them out. I think two or three of them will join me, a few others maybe. The rest won’t.”

  “Join you for what?”

  “I don’t know yet. For now in protecting the town.”

  “You’re their Captain. Can’t you just order them—?”

  Yosh shook his head vigorously enough that the man stopped. “They’d execute me on the spot for treason. I suppose they’d be correct to do so.” He paused, realizing the path he was considering left no room for turning back. “So be it,” he said, to himself. The prisoners struggled to their feet and he addressed them again. “I’ll be back in a moment with weapons for both of you. You can set off on your own, or help me if you wish. All I ask is one hour to see what I can do with my men, and that if you leave, you do so without taking a life if you can. Not all of my men have acted with undo cruelty.”

  “I’m with you, if you’ll have me,” the older of the two men said. “Not sure there’s anything to go home to, anyway.” The other man nodded his agreement.

  “I’ll be back in two minutes with swords,” Yosh said. “Wait here.” He ducked out of the tent and started for his own, hoping no one would see him and question his actions. Once he made sure the former prisoners could defend themselves, he’d see to his own men. He started to move with a firm determination he hadn’t felt for far too long. He let his hand fall to the hilt of his sword and thought of Branst.

  He would seek him out first.

  * * *

  It had been nearly three weeks since they had left Belzlak in his tower, and they had finally reached the coast. Further north the coastline was mainly high, rocky cliffs, but here it leveled into a sandy beach, although much of it was buried under the ever-present snow, the exception being where the surf kept it at bay. The sea was a dull blue-grey, hard to distinguish from the leaden sky at the horizon. The air, of course, was cold—any benefit they may have gained from moving south was lost in the ever-deepening chill as winter moved toward its harshest—and the sea breeze left them feeling damp and numb. Yet they knew the coast would be their companion until they found Tradoon, and from there, if they were lucky, they’d cross the sea.

  They had taken a short break from their march and cooked some deer meat over a small fire. The deer had been thin and weak, likely wouldn’t have lived another three days, but they were grateful to have found it. Their supplies were holding out well enough, but fresh roasted meat seemed a treat in this forsaken place. Luckily for them, the deer and a bit of small game were the only life they had encountered since leaving Belzlak behind.

  Darius stood looking out over the ocean, watching the swells and the way the surf pounded into the shore. He had always liked the sea—the sounds, the smells, the raw power and sheer size of it—but he never experienced it in winter. He wasn’t sure what he thought of it in this season.

  Xanar nudged him and offered some of the deer meat, which Darius took gratefully. “Not thinking of going for a swim, are you?” the elf asked playfully.

  “Not a chance. How long do you think someone could survive out there?”

  “In this cold? An hour? A few minutes?”

  “It’s odd standing here, so close, but just out of its reach.”

  “Symbolism, my friend?”

  Darius laughed. “I didn’t mean it to be. Just an observation.”

  “Apt anyway. Everything has its limits, even these fiends we go to confront. Nothing is all-powerful.”

  “You’d get an argument from Barlow on that.”

  Xanar held up his hands in surrender. “Not my intention, or my point.”

  Darius let his gaze drift back to the sea. “So do you think we’ve got a chance?”

  “If I didn’t, I’d be heading home, and trying to convince you to come with me.”

  Darius knew his friend was trying to be lighthearted, but still he replied, “I couldn’t go back to the Auerl with you, even if I thought our chances non-existent. I have to try.”

  “I know. And I’d still come with you.”

  “I know. Thanks.”

  They finished their meal while quietly watching the sea’s endless cycle. The tide was starting to come in.

  “Looks like it’s coming for us,” Xanar said.

  “Symbolism?”

  Xanar laughed and shrugged.

  * * *

  The coast now was angling west more than south, and with good visibility they might have been able to just make out the southernmost spur of the Grim Mountains in the distance. Visibility, however, was anything but good. The clouds were black and forbidding, and roiled as they were pushed about by a brisk wind. They were so low and heavy that they seemed to threaten to drop all the precipitation they held in one swift motion, crushing everything beneath them, and it was odd to think something so dark could expel pure white flakes of snow. Such was the ominous look of the clouds that the travelers kept an eye on them even as they continued their search for the still hidden city of Tradoon.

  A single snowflake alighted on Xanar’s nose. He wiped it away and looked up, only to take another in the eye. “Here it comes,” he said.

  Even as he spoke, the wind gusted and the snow started to pelt down. The flakes were big and wet, and clung where they fell. The companions lowered their heads as they marched into the teeth of the storm, and soon their cloaks were covered with snow. They slowed and huddled closer so as to not lose sight of one another.

  “We may need to stop soon,” Silas said. “We could walk right past Tradoon in this storm and miss it.”

  “Seems a shame,” Adrianna said. “There’s still several hours of day left.”

  “The only reason day is better than night for our purposes is visibility,” Silas pointed out. “Might as well be the middle of the night with all this snow swirling around.”

  They stayed with it another fifteen minutes, mostly in the hopes that the storm might pass or abate. It didn’t. When they could make out the clouds through the snow-filled air about them they could see that they remained an angry black color.

  “Going to be hard to dig out any shelter in this,” Xanar said. “I doubt we can clear it out faster than it’s falling.”

  “No shelter means no fire,” Darius said. “And if we hold still we’ll be covered
in no time.”

  “He’s right,” Barlow said. “We have to keep moving just to avoid being buried.”

  On they went while the snow piled up all around them. At times it fell so thick that it seemed they would soon need to breathe it if they wanted to live. None of them could keep their feet for long, and each step became more of a challenge as he snow deepened and the relentless wind tried to bar their passage.

  Barlow found himself being helped up more often than the others, and he took note that Silas had taken up position to his left rear, to be ready to lend a hand when it was needed. Barlow was torn between injured pride and the reality that he was glad to have the younger, stronger man there. He tried to focus on the task at hand, on just taking one step at a time. He tried to still the small voice inside that knew he couldn’t keep this up much longer, the one that recognized the shaking of his limbs and the growing tightness in his chest for what they were.

  Silas couldn’t see these things, but knew his friend was in trouble, and that soon they all would be. He turned to Adrianna and whispered, “Can’t you do something?”

  “A shelter?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not sure how long I can hold it. But I’ll do what I can if you think it best.”

  “Do it,” Silas said. He raised his voice and called for the others to stop.

  “Stand close around me,” Adrianna told them. They didn’t know what she was up to, but no one questioned her, not yet. Any hope of escaping the storm, even temporarily, they’d happily entertain.

  She closed her eyes and held up her hands, almost as if trying—unsuccessfully—to ward off the storm. The words she spoke were stolen away by the wind, those around her unable to make out what she was softly chanting. But when the spell was cast it was immediately obvious. The falling snow suddenly couldn’t reach them, stopped in mid-air by an unseen obstacle and then sliding away. The snow was dropping so rapidly that it was easy to see that the wall of force Adrianna had created was in a dome shape over them, and on the dome’s eastern side the snow soon started to accumulate, working its way up and over the top of the invisible wall.

  “It won’t take long for us to be buried,” Barlow said evenly. “Not that I’m complaining.”

  “No other good choice,” Silas replied. “At least we’ll be relatively dry and warm in here until the worst of the storm passes.”

  Adrianna sat cross-legged on the ground, her eyes still closed, maintaining her concentration. The others waited and watched her uneasily as the snow drift grew around them, wondering how long she could hold out.

  * * *

  The storm had passed, and the morning brought with it a crystal-clear sky, the sun shining fiercely, a reminder of warmer days. From above the land was a pristine, uniform white. A passing bird might have taken note of one oddity near the sea, a mound of snow some eight feet high, as if some great ball had been left near the shore to be buried. From the side of this mound an opening formed, a shovel poking out and then quickly clearing a larger area. From this the companions started to emerge, squinting against the brightness.

  “All clear, literally,” Xanar said, as he was first out. Barlow, Uesra, and Darius quickly followed.

  “Adrianna,” Silas said softly.

  The sorceress had been in a trance-like state since she had cast her spell. She had stilled her mind and slowed her heart rate, and then withdrew inward. Silas had to repeat himself twice before she stirred. She turned to face him, noticed they were alone. “Everything all right?”

  “Yes. We can go now.”

  She nodded. “If you don’t mind lending me your arm…”

  He helped her out and followed. As the companions watched she looked back at the igloo they had passed the night in and let the spell lapse. The dome settled a bit, but did not collapse, the walls thick enough to support their own weight.

  “Be interesting to see what might take up residence in there over the next few weeks,” Darius commented.

  “And to watch when spring comes and it finally caves in,” Xanar added.

  “Luckily we’ll be far away by then,” Silas said. He felt the way Adrianna was still heavily leaning on him. “Do you have the strength to walk?”

  “I’ll be fine. Just need a moment to get my legs under me.” She watched Darius slog ahead a few steps, saw the snow was very deep, and sighed. “Going to be a slow go.”

  Uesra pointed to the ocean. “We can walk on the shoreline while the tide’s out. These boots will keep our feet dry.”

  After struggling through the snow to reach the sea’s edge, they realized how little progress they would be making in the thigh-deep accumulation. Reaching the shore was like breaking through a barrier, and they all felt lighter and freer. They set off west at a good pace, knowing when the tide returned they’d be forced back toward the snow.

  Chapter 9: Tradoon

  For three days the weather held cold but clear, as if the storm had spent whatever the elements had to offer. The companions stayed close to the shore, and had somewhere passed the point where the sea became the bay. The sand showing beyond the snow-pack had become hard ground and then that slice of earth vanished as well; the waves no longer crashed to the shore and battled the edges of the snow, and as the water grew more still it froze. The ice now extended past their ability to see out into the vast bay.

  This day was overcast, a welcome relief. The sun actually did little to warm them, its rays ineffective against the biting wind, but its reflection off the snow, water, and ice created a glare they tried to shield their eyes from with only moderate success. The clouds didn’t seem heavy, any snow likely to be only scattered flurries, but they had ridden in on a cold front that dropped the temperature another fifteen degrees. The brisk wind accompanying the front made the change in temperature feel even more drastic.

  Darius leaned into the wind and fought to keep his cloak from being torn from his shoulders. “You think if we go east the wind will change direction?”

  Xanar was going to say it certainly would, but Uesra missed the sarcasm in the question and answered first. “The wind tends to blow to the east, especially with those mountains acting as a sort of funnel.” She gestured at the Grim Mountains, which grew larger with each passing mile. “And there is nothing on the bay to slow it down.”

  Darius was too cold to bother replying. Barlow was so chilled he did, just to give his mind something else to focus on. “This is nothing. When I was a boy, the wind came at you from all four directions at once, and it snowed three feet a day, even in summer.”

  Uesra cocked an eyebrow, confused.

  Xanar burst out laughing. “And you walked three miles to school each day—”

  “Uphill both ways!” Xanar, Barlow, and Darius said together.

  Their laughter floated away of a strong gust of wind, the elements unhappy at being mocked.

  Silas smiled at their revelry, a short respite from the heavy weight of their journey. Suddenly his face drew tight and he stopped. The others, sensing the change, did the same.

  Before them stood what might have been taken to be the larger cousin of a yeti. It’s thick, coarse hair was a mixture of brown and white, long enough to dance in the wind. Even in this harsh environment it wore no clothes or coverings to protect itself, the hair and a thick hide apparently sufficient to the task of keeping it warm. While its appearance was that of some great forest or mountain beast, it spoke in a voice that was as cultured as any of the others present. “Dangerous to be out in such weather. You are all far from home.”

  “We are,” Silas said. “We are trying to return.”

  The creature studied them a moment longer. “Four from the southlands, and two from the western forest of the elves. Which home do you speak of?”

  “Ours,” Silas replied. “The elves journey with us, to aid our cause.”

  “A strange cause it must be, to bring you so far from home. If you wish it, you may take shelter in our village.”

  “We appreciat
e the offer, and may yet accept. But we seek a place called Tradoon.”

  “Then you are in luck, for that is my village. Follow.”

  The creature turned without further comment, not looking back to see if its last word was being acted upon. The travelers exchanged wary looks. The creature had not asked what their cause was, or why they wanted to find Tradoon. It seemed unconcerned about their weapons or their motives. Was it so trusting? Or so confident in the abilities of its fellows that it knew it had nothing to fear from the strangers? They knew they’d soon find out, and they also knew they really had no decision to make. They followed.

  With the possible exception of the blizzard conditions they had faced several days ago, they wouldn’t have missed Tradoon. It wasn’t a large village, but given the relative emptiness of the surrounding area, one sticking to the bay’s edge wouldn’t walk past without noticing the place. There were perhaps thirty homes, similar in construction to those built by humans but with larger doors and higher roofs to accommodate the larger species. Several locals moved about the village casually, unhurried by the chilly air. A dozen skiffs were near the shore, most cleared of snow, indicating recent use. As they entered the village they were greeted with polite nods, but otherwise the locals didn’t seem fazed by such visitors.

  They were led to a building on the far side of the village, one of the smallest. Their escort knocked once and entered without waiting for a reply, holding the door until all were inside. Behind a large desk sat a creature like the one they followed, save for the dark orange color of its hair.

  “Visitors,” their guide announced in the plainest way possible. It then left without further comment.

  “Welcome,” said the orange-haired creature. “How may we serve you?”

  “We are traveling south,” Silas answered. “We were told your people sometimes trade with the men of Dalusia, and that it might be possible to hasten our journey upon one of your skiffs.”

  “We have not had commerce with men in many years.”