The Cold Ones

by A M D'Addabbo

  A gut-wrenching guffaw rent the howling wind, bringing Boor to Krell’s forethoughts. Among the candidate skirmishers, naturally, Boor thrived within the Grunt Squad — war was in his blood. The giant man’s weapon of choice consisted of an enormous double-headed axe and a short blade which resembled more of a meat cleaver than a dagger. A more ferocious scrapper within the candidates had yet to manifest.

  Hess intercepted Krell on his second circuit around the white-washed encampment. With indifference, the swarthy man spoke in his usual subdued tone.

  “Lord Kaide wishes to summit with you, Krell.”

  “Captain,” Krell snarled reflexively. Having climbed so far from gutter whence he came, Krell was proud of his rank. He clutched it with the same might a falcon clutches a rabbit in its talons.

  Hess smirked, petulant lips curling as he about-faced. He stalked away, silent as wafting smoke. Krell growled to himself, yet followed the Lord Commander’s manservant. They traveled in haste, without conversing. Ahead, through the swirling flecks of ice, Captain Krell saw Lord Kaide.

  As ever, the howling-locked wolf pauldrons donned by the Lord Commander added to his already looming presence. Krell stepped beside the legendary warrior — both faced northward, toward Hevnkalt. As Hess departed, allowing his Lord and the captain privacy, Krell’s eyes shot poisoned nettles at his back.

  Krell glanced to Lord Kaide, nearly a head-and-half again taller, yet held his tongue. Wordless, the two stood like sentinels against winter’s wrath, ever facing north. Tension matured and mounted upon Krell’s lithe form. Gnashing his teeth, the captain broke the silence.

  “The storm’s anger seems it will not be assuaged.” The awkward attempt only added to what pressure the captain felt; even more so as Lord Kaide glanced at him from above with a cursory look. By the Realm of the Damned, Krell chided himself. What does he care of the trifling weather?

  “It’s caused an unforeseen halt to-” he began anew. Alas, Lord Kaide cut him short.

  “Unforeseen, Captain?” Lord Vandyr Kaide’s right brow arched inquisitively, his voice smooth. “Is this not winter? Has winter not followed fall without err since before the Fall of the Empire?”

  Krell’s face darkened under the gentle assault, cursing his own stupidity. “Aye, my Lord, it has.”

  “What have you prepared for contingency training, Captain?” Like always, Lord Kaide’s tone remained level, devoid of stinging bite. Yet, it bore the weight of the Synod, as if the Greater Gods themselves sought to smite Krell.

  Krell pulled his gaze from the piercing-dun eyes of his commanding officer. Soul withered and stripped bare, nothing remained within the captain except agonizing embarrassment. His malcontented silence was answer enough.

  “We shall have to address this, Captain.”

  “Aye, my Lord.” Krell stiffened like a cadaver. “I will call the men to formation, and figure-”

  “Negative, Krell.” The Lord Commander pivoted, tawny eyes locked on Krell with perforating fire.

  Those two words stung more than any the captain experienced before. Lord Kaide’s lack of rigid compliance to decorum acted like a physical blow.

  “They will not suffer for your indolence. You will release the men until the sun’s run reaches its zenith on the morrow. Their time is their own; they may even venture into the city if they please. After these instructions are delivered, you and I shall form a course of action for the remainder of the training.” Lord Kaide turned, facing away from Krell once more. The captain’s dismissal was as clear as a mountain spring.

  Krell fumed, about-faced and slinked away like a beat dog. Before he ventured far, he heard the Lord Commander’s voice cut through the gale.

  “It appears I must take a more active role within the Quest.”

  The beast inside the captain railed against Lord Kaide’s parting thrust. Krell’s glower was dark and savage as he stormed off.

  Lord Kaide’s voice lacked vehemence. In fact, it was filled with naught but woeful disappointment.

  I must be better than this, Krell fumed. Ire scorched his veins as if magma sludged through them. I must become like Lord Kaide himself! I need to mantle leadership. I’ll do this, even if it kills me.

  A noxious chortle within Krell and his fury writhed inside his gut. Tsk, tsk! It sibilated. Not this vow again, you will only fail. I will ensure it.

  ◄►◄►◄►

  Upon broad shoulders, Pell bore doubt which nearly thickened his blood into sludge. He reached his manor, located in the top-tier of Hevnkalt with all haste. Indeed, immediately after the captain dismissed his ‘Flakes’ for a day of relaxation, Pell traveled with the swiftness of the storm. Too long had he been separated from Reese, his Lady Wife.

  His booted footfalls echoed against mosaic-stone floors as he traveled the corridors of his manse. Ignoring ancestral paintings, which littered the walls, Pell’s mind raced. His wife held the focal point of his thoughts.

  As he arrived at the door he knew so well, the portal to his life’s happiness, Pell halted. Noticing his shaking hands, Pell clenched them into fists. Nerves flooded his senses. Taking several slow breaths, Pell attempted to relax. Shoulders clenched in apprehension, Pell all but cannoned through the wooden entryway. Such was his need to see her.

  The moment he entered, Pell saw his wife.

  Back to him, Reese sat on a cushioned chair in front of a silver-plated mirror. With meticulous care, she brushed her long blond locks, straight and beautiful. The creaking of the door caused Reese to whip around in her seat. Tender hazel eyes found pale blue orbs, almost sunken in a face weary with trial and exhaustion.

  The visible bags beneath Pell’s eyes gave away his fatigue, despite any effort on his part to deny such a state.

  “My Lady,” Pell said, voice cracking like ice.

  Reese flashed a crooked grin, full of affection. “I’ve missed you so, my Lord.”

  Her angelic face held Pell’s mind for a moment. He desired to safeguard this vision throughout all eternity.

  “There’s something I must tell you, Pell.” Reese’s soft statement was betrayed by her intense gaze.

  “It can wait,” Pell croaked. In quick strides, he crossed the room and pulled her to her feet. Wrapping his corded arms about her, Pell kissed his wife with the passion born of long-lost lovers.

  Then paused.

  He stepped back in retreat. Pale orbs widened, lips sputtered.

  “Quit ogling my tits!” Reese tittered like the tinkling of wind-chimes, fondly slapping Pell’s shoulder with a wink.

  “Reese,” Pell rasped, a loss for words.

  Under Reese’s nightgown, her stomach bulged.

  “You are with child, my Lady.”

  “Clearly,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

  Pell wheezed a guffaw. “How?”

  “Well,” Reese began in a manner used with children, “when a man loves a woman, they writhe under the sheets, usually accompanied with moans of ecstasy and-”

  Another passionate kiss silenced her. Pell’s stern face was cracked by a genuine smile as he pulled away.

  “I would have sent a letter,” Reese started, grin disappearing, “alas, I had no knowledge of your whereabouts, let alone whether you still lived.”

  “Aye.” Pell nodded. He cringed an apology. “The captain marched us around Vinganz Province, never staying in the same place too long.”

  “Well I would like to meet him one day,” she said. “I have an earful for him.”

  Pell hesitated.

  “What?” Reese asked.

  “Captain Krell is,” he paused and swallowed, “not a man inclined to receive an earful…from anyone.”

  “Which House does he belong to?” Reese inquired. She pulled Pell to a divan, and they both sat.

  Pell paused, calculating how best to explain Lord Kaide’s vision of the Cold Ones. “Captain Krell belongs only to the cohort, and in that setting, men are gauged by their worth rather than birth.”

&nb
sp; Reese’s thin brow arched. “How is it a noble is not in command?”

  Pell’s shoulders dropped with a sigh. “This isn’t a traditional unit, Reese.”

  “In what way?”

  Struggling to articulate his thoughts, Pell started again, slow and deliberate. “Well, Lord Kaide commissioned this cohort to prove he is not an anomaly.”

  “How so?” Reese asked, putting a gentle hand on Pell’s thigh.

  “You are aware of the Lord Commander’s history, correct?”

  Reese nodded.

  “I believe he intends to prove to the Realm, that actions dictate nobility, not bloodline.”

  Puzzlement carved into Reese’s sculpted visage. “Why would he wish such a thing?”

  Pell heaved an exhausted frame to its feet. “It’s no longer only Lord Kaide, Reese. You don’t understand.”

  Reese’s hazel eyes tracked her husband as he paced the room like a caged predator. Soft as feathers, she spoke. “Love, I can see how important this is to you. Explain it to me, please. I’m listening.”

  Tired eyes glinted, and a handsome smile creased Pell’s lips.

  “When Lord Kaide approached me after he conceived this cohort, I saw the potential of what he sought. Think of it, Reese,” a star-like twinkle shone in Pell’s orbs, “this cohort could allow men to prove their worth — their nobility — by their courage! No longer would the Realm be fettered by those lucky enough to be born to the proper House. Tell me love, how many fops and wastrels roam among the upper tiers without an accomplishment to their name?”

  Pell went on with the zeal of newly appointed cleric. “What if every nobleman or noblewoman lived atop the capital by deed, not creed. How far could we rise?”

  Pell stared at his wife with the intensity of the sun. He saw her apparent lack of understanding, so continued. “Reese, I have seen such glorious acts of nobility among my fellow Flakes-”

  “Flakes?” Reese interjected, yet Pell surged on with the force of a waterfall.

  “Yet, I’ve seen vile deeds performed by highborn men within Hevnkalt. It’s naught but a facade! Among my brothers in the Quest, there is a man named Boor who-”

  “Boar?” Reese mused.

  “Aye, Boor,” Pell said. “Despite his crass demeanor, his actions are worthy of the highest nobility.” Pell halted, then released his tension with blasting exhale. “If we can prove highborn and lowborn alike excel when bloodline is disregarded, and only deeds determine worth…well, I believe the Realm will be better for it. As does the Lord Commander.”

  Reese beamed at her husband, who’s vibrant aura emanated like the warmth of a forge. Alas, it was short lived. Pell subsided into his customary austerity, enshrouded by the exertion of a man long beaten by the Quest.

  “What is it, love?” Reese asked.

  A somber smile touched the edges of Pell’s lips.

  “It’s Captain Krell,” he croaked quietly. “He is bursting with such great potential! I can see it — feel its tangibility, Reese.”

  “But?” Reese probed, delicate as a seamstress.

  “He detests highborn, so much so that its crippling the cohort’s growth.”

  “Why doesn’t Lord Kaide replace him with someone more qualified to lead?”

  “Because,” Pell returned to agitation, “if Captain Krell can mend the wound in his soul, his iron-will alone will lead us to success. This cohort will become an inexorable force, the likes of which the Realm has never seen.”

  “You should tell him, husband.”

  Pell shook his head, hand running over his lined face. “No, my love. As I said, he is not a man inclined to accept criticism. He certainly will not abide a Flake to complain about the inequalities within the cohort.”

  “Maybe that’s exactly what is needed then, Pell.” Reese struggled to her feet, encumbered by her swollen belly. “If he sees how much you care, maybe-ahhhg!” Gripping her belly, Reese’s legs buckled, and she collapsed.

  Pell launched forward, wrapping his firm arms about his wife before she crumpled to the ground. He escorted her back to the cushioned love-seat.

  “What’s wrong, Reese? Shall I call the laech?” Thick as sludge, panic coated Pell’s mouth, his tongue swathed in fear.

  “No,” Reese sighed, “it was just a cramp. Hey!” She grabbed Pell’s hand, placing it on her belly.

  His orbs widened.

  Reese grinned. “Feel the baby move?”

  Pell croaked with laughter. “Aye. He’s strong, like his mother.”

  Reese piqued a thin eyebrow. “He, huh?”

  “Aye,” Pell stated. He stared in wonder as his child moved inside Reese’s womb. “How far along are you? When are you expecting?”

  “It certainly seems I’ve been an ox for an eternity,” Reese jested. “Thankfully, the child will come soon.”

  “You are the most beautiful ox I have ever laid eyes upon.” Pell bent and tenderly kissed his wife.

  When they separated, Reese spoke, voice sultry. “I have been told that the throes of pleasure can induce labor.”

  “Oh really?” Pell inquired.

  “Indeed,” Reese spoke. Her forefinger teased, tracing Pell’s chest.

  “Well, as your husband,” Pell said, helping Reese to her feet. “I am honor bound to assist you in any way you see fit.”

  Later, after they’d made love, Pell held his wife with affection. As sleep assailed his consciousness, Pell made the decision of, whether he conquered the Quest or not, he’d teach his child that nobility was construed from deeds, not blood.

  Somewhere in Hevnkalt, Lord Vandyr Kaide smiled.

  ◄►◄►◄►

  After the single day and night of respite at Hevnkalt, Captain Krell marched the trainees south. Frozen winds cut to the marrow like bone-saws. As the cohort moved further into the lowlands of the Horn, the snow began to lessen. White layered the land, yet the snow piled only inches high rather than several feet.

  Harsh though the winter was, it paled before the intensity of Krell. Savage hours of physically and mentally demanding training claimed the aspirants. Soon the Captain’s Flakes melted to number two score and thirteen.

  Within the cohort, the four squads worked together to accomplish whatever missions tasked by their commanding officer: Captain Krell. A specific rank structure made up the teams themselves. In order for Captain Krell to disseminate orders effectively, he promoted corporals and sergeants to ensure each squad ran without a hitch, while the Squad Sergeants maintained overall team command. Above the team leaders, a Staff Sergeant answered directly to the Lieutenant — as of yet chosen. This executive officer, in turn, would report to Captain Krell and become the cohort’s second in command.

  The captain picked ‘Grandfather’ Beets to act as, not only the cohort’s Staff Sergeant but also as the Brute Squad’s Sergeant. Grandfather’s son, Mersh, acted as an assistant sergeant for these massive shield brothers.

  Sergeant Rydir led the Cav squad, with Sergeant Athos and the massive Sergeant Calyas as his second and third.

  Sneak Squad followed the silent man, preternaturally swathed in shades, named Vies. After training finished for the day, Sergeant Vies flitted behind Boor as the bulky man’s shadow. The two couldn’t embody more different identities among the men; yet they had a resonance, a perfect match of bellicose and subtlety. Together they covered many facets of the warrior ethos.

  It came as no surprise to anyone when Captain Krell informed Boor he was to be the Grunt Squad Sergeant. Boor heartily guffawed in response, his chestnut orbs glinting, and a wide grin showcased his pearly whites between his tusk-like chops.

  “Aye lads,” he bellowed, “y’all better prepare to kiss Meltore’s balls soon! HA!” His declaration was followed by a chorus of supporting hails from the Grunts.

  Despite the days no longer consisting of Captain Krell and Hess ‘melting the Flakes’, training filled the days and nights. One on one sparring, along with squad level skirmishes, was a daily practice. Though
it was only training, these mock battles held a high level of risk. Captain Krell refused the use of blunted weapons.

  “There are no sparring blades on the battlefield, Cur,” he snarled when Pell inquired after safety. “We will train as we fight. If you fear for your safety, flee back to your pampered noble life.”

  Pell stood rooted like a tree at attention and bore the chastisement. As ever, the man remained a perfect specimen of military decorum.

  A fortnight passed, and to Pell’s astonishment, nary an injury worthy of note befell the candidates. The man swallowed doubt and fell into combative training full of vigor. Despite Pell growing up with a master-at-arms, who reigned over his swordplay education, the baron was far from the most skilled.

  Among the deadliest were Sergeant Boor, Sergeant Vies, a hawk-like man named Ceron, and an up-and-coming youngster everyone hailed as Junior, despite his adamant protestations. He riled for weeks, promising everyone his name was something-or-other. It mattered naught; now, his name was Junior.

  Alas, these exceptional warriors paled in the fury of Captain Krell. The first to feel the stinging bite of Krell’s aptitude was Boor.

  The bulky Grunt finished walloping a pair from his own Squad, when the captain stalked passed, overseeing the skirmishing bouts.

  “Oi, Cap’n,” Boor grinned, “spar with me?”

  “Negative, Sergeant Boor,” Krell returned, not unkindly. “I must make my rounds.”

  “That’s alright, wouldn't wanna hurt ya anyhow.” Boor winked at his fellow Grunts as he hefted his enormous double-headed axe.

  Krell shook his head with a begrudging sigh. “Fine, Sergeant, have at it.”

  Twin Furyte Steel karambits appeared in the captain’s hands with the speed of a viper strike. Forefingers in the finger-loop, the claw-like daggers glinted pale as the sun’s run began to retire. Ice and snow crunched as Krell circled like a lion, Boor opposite in tow.