Cold Blooded

by Jackson Lear

  We gasped, wiped sweat from our brows, started shivering as the cold punched its way through our clothing. One of the older northerners collapsed to the side, struggling to breathe while Yahnson kept a hand on his shoulder for comfort.

  “Nothing,” whispered Menrihk.

  Saskia murmured again. I lifted one side of her stretcher up. “How many of them can you see?”

  She closed her fist. None.

  I spun her around, facing the east. “How many hours until sunrise?”

  She held a finger up, then pointed eastward. I shook my head at her as discretely as I could. She ran a circle through the air signaling all of us, pointed east with a slight arc to the south. She pointed to me, then to the east with a slight arc to the north.

  I leaned in to whisper. “Loken?”

  She pointed heavily to the south.

  “Ice Bridge?”

  East, though slightly to the north.

  “Berik?”

  She shook her head at me.

  “Torunn? Who here has taken this route the most?”

  “Ander. Boden.”

  “How far away are we from Ice Bridge?”

  “Twelve hours.”

  “And it’s that way?”

  “Aye.”

  “Definitely that way and not another few miles north once we’re off the mountain? Or another few miles south?”

  They muttered amongst themselves. “Definitely that way.”

  Saskia grinned back at me and shook her head.

  “You’re going to believe her over us?” asked Ander.

  “Maybe. Is Ice Bridge definitely that way?”

  They grumbled. A ‘no’ was on their lips, that much was clear. “We’re not going to Ice Bridge.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To stop cavalry and get our people back. Ice Bridge is fortress. We hit cavalry on road when no one can help them.”

  Jarmella rolled her eyes to me.

  Now was hardly the time but we weren’t likely to get a better one, not with the way our luck had been going for the last few days. “Torunn? We need sailors. We need a crew. The vanguard are going to hit Ice Bridge and steal a ship but we need your help to sail it to Orkust. We don’t know how to. Especially with the rest of the ships out there we will be caught. You know the lake. You know how to sail. I know you have hated us in the past and we have hated you, but if you help us get back we will give General Kasera whatever message you want us to deliver. If you want us to give him a threat – we will do so. If you want to offer a truce – we will do so. If you want us to deliver a request – we will do so.”

  “Not good enough,” said Torunn.

  “And you can keep the ship we give you.”

  “Draegor’s ship? No.”

  “Keep it or destroy it. Either way it will hurt your enemies, right? You help us get the right ship and it will be a win for you all.”

  The cogs started turning. Plans came to mind. Ever so slowly the northerners peeled back, muttering amongst themselves. Draegor was mentioned a couple of times. Agnarr too. Vampires more so.

  Torunn squinted back to me. “You definitely go to Ice Bridge?”

  “Yes.”

  More muttering. Jarmella squeezed Menrihk’s arm. “Anything?”

  “Nothing. There’s at least three out there. Maybe a fourth if he’s managed to pull all of those arrows out of him.”

  Ivar grumbled nearby. “I should’ve gone for the face.”

  “You did well.”

  “Yeah, but the face would’ve killed him. Now he’s still a threat.”

  They all understood, though Ivar was the only one beating himself up over it. Breaking lifelong training in a split second wasn’t easy, especially since aiming for the chest was far less personal than targeting someone right between the eyes.

  Torunn looked to me. “You killed Draegor?”

  Deep breath. “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “He was fighting three mercenaries in the great hall. He had a big ax and a big flail. He killed those three easily, stopped to drink some blood wine and I came in, fresh and confident. He nearly got me as well. I threw everything I could and he came at me like a berserker. Somehow I managed to slice him across his stomach. He dropped to his knees. Died.”

  Stassa translated most of it. I got a mix of curious looks and admiration.

  “And you killed Razoz,” said Torunn.

  “Yes.”

  More talking amongst themselves. At least it gave us a chance to catch our breaths. At long last there seemed to be a bitter truce between us and the northerners. “Okay,” said Torunn. “You tell General Kasera: no revenge.”

  “Okay.”

  “We did not trap you. We did not let Razoz trap you. We have families, we want them safe.”

  “I understand.”

  “If you come for revenge it’s against Desdola.”

  “Agreed.”

  Torunn extended a hand, pulling back at the last second. “Agnarr lives. We live.”

  “Deal.”

  We shook hands. Most of the vanguard sighed with relief. Most of the northerners begrudgingly accepted some kind of defeat.

  Torunn added: “You will help us fight cavalry to get our people back.”

  “We will.”

  “And we help you get to Orkust.”

  “Thank you.”

  I’m pretty sure everyone around me was thinking ‘we can’t possibly trust them.’ Normally I’d be right with them, but after spending two sleepless days hustling across a mountain perhaps exhaustion had finally broken them down enough to be honest.

  “Which way is Ice Bridge?”

  Saskia pointed the way. Ander grumbled and agreed with her.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Sunrise. Not just that but a completely cloudless morning. For the first time in days we could see for miles in every direction. The lake shimmered to the south, a glistening gold hue from the sun. Ships as small as dots sailed away like the whole kingdom wasn’t embroiled in a civil war-like upheaval. Ahead of us – only twenty miles away – lay the fortress harbor city of Ice Bridge. Though if my instincts were right it was more likely to be a fortress town or even a glorified village. Fifteen miles beyond that? Desdola.

  “… Raike …?”

  The spectral bitch hadn’t stopped whispering to me for an hour.

  “Raiiiike?”

  Thankfully I wasn’t the only one suffering from hallucinations. Jarmella beside me kept sniffing, muttering: “Shut up,” every quarter of a mile, broken occasionally with a: “That’s not what she sounds like!”

  Movement came from every tree, my peripheral vision now betraying me as utter exhaustion had settled in. Día hung with a rope around her neck, twisting slowly on the branches nearby, her head drooped to one side, eyes vacant, mouth hanging open. “You promised …”

  Even Adalyn shrieked in front of us, a sharp burst that lifted her out of her skin. She clamped both hands to her stomach, spun, turning frantically as she searched everything around her. When the threat of her hallucination faded her hands fell to the side. Ashen faced and gulping, she double checked her stomach, pressed in, heaved from a false attack, and moved closer to the infantry.

  Another body spun in the trees. No one else seemed to notice, only me. Still Día. The problem was I barely recognized her. I had only seen her once. Covered in blood, sweat, and grime. She was now a year older and a wholly different person. But I could still tell it was her. The way you pass someone on the street fifteen years after you last saw them and know instantly who they are and how you knew them.

  Aedalis staggered, fell to his knees, and flopped onto his front. A couple of fellas helped to pick him up but he was at the point of utter exhaustion.

  “This will make one hell of a story when we get back,” said Jarmella. “If we get back.”

  We walked on for a bit.

  “You okay?”

  “Fine.”

  “You’re sure? Because
even for the sometimes silent type you’re being particularly quiet.”

  “Are your visions getting better or worse?”

  “Worse. We’re starting to cross into the other side. It was one of the things our instructors told us to be careful of. The more exhausted you are and the longer you keep pushing, the more potent your spell will become. But if you push too much everything you’ve ever feared will start to whisper back to you. Push more and those whispers will turn into shouting. Eventually you might actually see the ghosts of the world and see how they twist the world to our will, only by then we won’t have the strength to deal with them and they will instead turn on us.” She blew out a long, earthy sigh. “Apparently in Ispar vampire blood is one hell of a drug. You stay up for three days straight, drink a mouthful, and you can conquer the world. I’m still waiting for that optimism to kick in.”

  “You’ve had more than a mouthful.”

  “Tell me about it. I’m on the verge of dying and all I can think about is getting laid. It’s utter bliss and I’m hating every moment of it.” She sniffed one arm pit. Recoiled. “I should’ve kept some, you know? Wait until we’re back, had a bath, had some food, hit the town.”

  Aedalis fell to the ground again. Menrihk and Gaynun helped him back up. Día continued twisting in the branches.

  “Gravy …” mumbled Jarmella. “Gravy and wine. With dumplings. In Baker’s Row there’s this great place that does dumplings in a wine sauce. You ever been?”

  “No, I’m from the north side of Erast.”

  “Well, when we all get back I’ll take you. Your treat.”

  “You’re very generous.”

  “Hey, you’re the one whose pockets are jangling with silver coins from Brilskeep. If anyone makes it out of this better than the rest it’s going to be you. The least you could do is let me show you around your new home and stuff me with food and wine.” She pulled one glove off, cupped her hands over her mouth, and breathed over her numb fingers. She slow blinked at me, probably wanting nothing more than to curl up under a blanket and sleep for a week. “I’ve never felt like I was actually dying before.”

  “You’re not dying. You’re just cold and hungry.”

  “I don’t feel hungry. That’s a bad sign, isn’t it?”

  “It can be.”

  Wilbur stumbled, dropping to one knee, shook it off, and staggered back to his feet.

  Jarmella fell to a whisper. “They hate me. I left Berik behind and now they hate me.”

  “They forgot about Berik and left him behind as well. So did I. That’s life. Just get them back to Anglaterra alive and they’ll at least respect you.”

  “It’s not just that. I cracked. And I wasn’t alone when it happened.”

  “It’s no time to beat yourself up, Jarmella. Not even the gods are perfect.”

  Another heavy blink. Almost ready to collapse as well. “I should’ve been better, though. Every year the vanguard are put through stress training. It’s hell but I liked it. Two hundred people and I was number two for that many years in a row. Then number five this year. Maybe that was it. I’ve been locked in cupboards, left dehydrated, and coerced into giving up secrets. Only the best get put through the worst so I wore that punishment with pride.” Another heavy blink. “Back in Brilskeep they came in and dragged Magnus away. When he came back he was shaken. He told us they drugged him with blood wine, knocked him around a bit, and just tried to get inside his mind. Then they came in for me and I just panicked. I begged and pleaded straight away, before we had even left the cell. Berik volunteered instead. He said he knew secrets and that I didn’t. They dumped me and took him away. And so I sat there surrounded by Vyfred, Ivar, Otario, and Aedalis. I don’t know what happened to me. I just kept thinking about what Desdola had said back in the great hall and … I cracked within ten seconds of them coming for me.”

  “She didn’t say anything but bullshit.”

  “Not true. She told us that the suffering caused by Saskia will haunt whoever survives. And that you would die on the black shore.”

  “Which didn’t happen.”

  “But it nearly did. Would’ve as well if you hadn’t been able to hurl that vampire back to you in time.”

  “No one reacts perfectly all the time so don’t beat yourself up over it. You’ve done well. You’ve kept everyone together and no one has died in your care.”

  “Give it twelve hours and we’ll see.” Now a yawn. Rubbed her eyes. Kept walking without looking where she was going. “She’s getting worse. I close my eyes and she’s still there.”

  “It’ll pass.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I thought you were the expert.”

  “Doesn’t mean I know everything.”

  She finally opened her eyes again, squinting at the sun as it rose into the sky. “Did you choose your name?”

  “We’re not having dumplings and wine right now so keep it together.”

  “Well, let’s imagine we were. We’re in a nice brick room. L-shaped. There’s a charcoal fire burning in the corner. You mention the last time you were in this area your name wasn’t even Raike.”

  “It probably was, actually.”

  “Right, yeah. This isn’t your first time in enemy territory, is it?”

  “Not even close.”

  “You said earlier you had mages and enforcers.”

  “Yep. Mages, rattlers, enforcers, squeezers, swift talkers, and closers.”

  “… I have no idea what you just said.”

  “Good. Basically: magic guys, creepy guys, big guys, little guys, charismatic guys, and … I guess guys who tie up loose ends.”

  “Only guys?”

  “No. But we did hold the majority.”

  “Like the army.”

  “Worse, actually.”

  “Hmm. What kind of loose ends did you tie up?”

  “I’d find people who didn’t want to be found, be it runaways, kidnappers, murderers, dead bodies … you name it.”

  “I imagine someone who doesn’t give up on loose ends is a real pain in the ass for the company.”

  “Bad closers are. The good ones don’t bother anyone at all.”

  “I know you keep saying no but were you ever a lieutenant?”

  “Yeah, even though really our captain is number one and everyone else is number three. Whoever is number two depends on the situation. If a problem happens in Greaser’s area with people he knows, then he’ll be in charge of that if the captain gives the okay. If it’s simply an advisory thing then the captain will have his favorites to call upon depending on their skills and knowledge. If it’s a mage thing, he’ll ask a mage. Squeezer thing, he’ll ask a squeezer. But on a mission outside of home? Roles are assigned. Groups are formed.”

  “How long were you a lieutenant for?”

  “Six years.”

  She rolled her eyes at me.

  “You’re doing well.”

  “Yeah. Day three and I’m doing well. You actually had someone called Greaser?”

  “You should probably forget I used his name.”

  “We’ll see. What other names do you guys have?”

  “Not from my company but you’d likely find people called Spider, Mouse, Moose, Wood, Punch, Red, Bricks, Scar … that sort of thing.”

  “Sounds like you got lucky. Imagine being called Bricks. Was it something you always wanted to do? Be a closer?”

  “Not really. When I was a kid we had frequent tours of the stockades. The sestas would point to this guy and say, ‘He’s a thief. See what happens to thieves? This one is a rapist. You want to know what will happen to him?’ And so on. The thing was, none of them were mercenaries. They were idiots who got caught.”

  “Why couldn’t they be mercenaries who got caught?”

  “Because no one ever rescued them.”

  “Mercenaries get caught all the time.”

  “True, and they get arrested and appear in a court, but they rarely get
a harsh punishment. They never lose a hand or are put to death, not unless their company abandons them. Mostly they’ll pay a bribe so the judge goes easy on them and if the judge refuses they’ll break their friend out of the dungeons. Sometimes if a judge is a supreme dick we’ll bump him off.”

  “You would kill a judge who is only trying to uphold the law?”

  “Of course not. We’d kill a dick who couldn’t be reasoned with.”

  “And this appealed to you as a kid?”

  “Not really. There was a mercenary company in our area when I grew up. We were warned about them. I nearly got hit by one of them when I was eight.”

  “What’d you do?”

  “What makes you think I did anything?”

  She stared back at me.

  “I called him a cunt.”

  “Was he being one?”

  “Nah, he was just doing his own thing, but the sestas never had anything good to say about them.”

  “So there’s a chance you insulted a random person on the street?”

  “No, he was definitely an enforcer for Vanguard.”

  She paused. Glanced my way.

  “That was one of the company names.”

  “Vanguard?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What was yours?”

  “Best I don’t say.”

  “Why?”

  “One of our rivals was Ispar.”

  Now she arched an eyebrow.

  “Not the city.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  “We typically chose powerful or official sounding company names.”

  “And yours was …?”

  “Official sounding.”

  “Of course. So how did you know this guy was an enforcer for Vanguard?”

  “Because his name was Clouds and I had been following him for a couple of days.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. What did you do when you were eight?”

  “Read books. Helped my mom make wigs.”

  “Right, well I climbed walls and followed people. One night I followed this guy to his dealer’s and he caught me staring at him through the window. He said, ‘What the fuck are you looking at?’ I said, ‘You, ya cunt.’ Turns out I could run really fucking fast when someone was chasing after me.”