Cold Iron

by Stina Leicht

  “Yes, sir, Captain-Highness, sir.”

  “Cut the crap, Lieutenant, if you plan on retaining the little braid you’ve got.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Light inundated the passage with a tiny squeak from the hooded lantern, revealing the passage ahead. Nels could now see Lieutenant Reini—an unremarkable six-foot-tall kainen with light brown hair bound into a soldier’s club. Shadows cast on Reini’s face did not mask the twinkle of humor in his black eyes. If Nels had met Reini under other circumstances, he was certain he’d have liked Reini at once. They shared a similar attitude toward authority, after all.

  “The crates are this way,” Reini said. “This is going to be like stealing milk from a sleeping cow.”

  Nels followed Reini, skirting the edge of an underground stream. Shadows cowered from the light. At last, the blackness faded. The lantern’s hood was shut, emitting a second squeak. Ahead, a bright circle of moonlight marked the water well behind Almari’s house. The curved stone walls of the well were set with a series of iron rings leading to the surface. Looking up, Nels saw limestone and old mortar framing a stormy moonlit sky. Flickers of lightning danced in the gathering clouds.

  “I understand Almari does the bulk of his business in ­smuggled Ytlainen port,” Reini whispered. “We should acquire a few casks while we’re here.”

  “Only the muskets, Lieutenant,” Nels said. “Anything else is stealing.”

  “You take the fun out of everything, sir.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Nels said. “We’re here, aren’t we?”

  Lieutenant Reini paused. “I must say, you aren’t entirely what I expected.”

  “And what did you expect?”

  Reini glanced over his shoulder with a sly grin. “A spoiled autocrat with no sense of humor and even less common sense.”

  “I’d say you’re a fair judge of character,” Nels whispered. “I’m somewhat short on common sense in particular.”

  “Ah. I’m right swived, then.” Reini moved away from the false water well and then down the passage. He was both graceful and absolutely quiet.

  The new passage stretched out for quite a distance before Reini stopped and signaled for silence. He slid farther down the tunnel as it turned left, Nels trailing behind him. After another hundred feet, they came to a ragged tarp covering a doorway on the left. Reini paused again and tilted his head as if listening.

  After you, Your Highness, Reini’s next gesture said.

  Nels pushed the cloth aside and entered a huge cavern with a tall ceiling. It was easy to imagine it’d been hollowed out by centuries of water. Someone had constructed a five-foot-high platform against the far wall. Based on the dampness of the rock floor and the sharp contrast between the top and bottom halves of the supporting posts, Nels assumed it was intended to protect the ­smuggler’s inventory from flooding. Perhaps the well isn’t as fake as all that.

  The platform itself was empty.

  Behind him and to the left, a metallic click echoed off the cavern walls—the sound of a pistol hammer locking into place.

  “Please be good enough to raise your hands, Your Grace.” Almari’s gravelly voice came from Nels’s right.

  So much for the sleeping cow, Nels thought. Where’s Reini? Do they have him, too? How many mercenaries does Almari have with him? He put his hands in the air. “I only want what I paid for.”

  “Too bad your shipment was impounded three days ago,” Almari said.

  The barrel of a gun jabbed into Nels’s back, and he staggered forward. Impounded?

  “I’ve a new partner,” Almari said, not sounding particularly happy about the prospect. “I’ve you to thank for that.”

  Is Suvi in danger? “Who?”

  “Now, why would I risk my neck as well as the other two thirds of my inventory by answering that question?”

  “Perhaps I can make a better offer?” Although Nels couldn’t see the pistol, a spot between his shoulder blades itched where he was sure the gun was aimed.

  “It’s a bit late for that,” Almari said. “Turn around.”

  Turning as ordered, Nels noted that Almari had the grumpy aspect of someone who hadn’t slept well in some time. A lone, nervous-­looking private aimed two pistols at Nels’s chest.

  A uniformed private is working for a smuggler? Is he one of Uncle Sakari’s? Nels thought. Has to be, you idiot. Suvi is in trouble.

  Almari cleared his throat. “Now, what am I to do with you?”

  Nels searched for Lieutenant Reini, but he was nowhere in sight. Relief briefly loosened the tension in Nels’s shoulders and stomach—until it occurred to him that if Reini was half the korva his reputation reported, he must have known Almari and the private were waiting for them. Nels tightened a fist. If I live through this, Reini is going to wish he never joined the damned army.

  One problem at a time. Court speech rolled off his tongue in a calm timbre, but since there was no domination magic behind the words, they had no effect. “I apologize most profusely for trespassing upon your lands. I don’t suppose you might consider settling for a sharp reprimand before sending me on my way?”

  “Sharp’s a good word,” Almari said, drawing a knife. “I like it. The private here can dump you in the river. By the time the fish are through, no one will be the wiser.”

  Behind Nels’s captors, the curtain twitched.

  Hopeful that Reini hadn’t abandoned him after all, Nels focused on the front of Almari’s brown coat. “Won’t a missing prince draw unwanted attention?”

  Almari laughed. “My partner doesn’t seem to think so. I understand you have a reputation for keeping rough company.”

  The current rough company in question slipped through the curtained doorway without making a sound. Reini’s jaw was set at a determined angle, and his fists were clenched. Unaware of Reini’s presence, the private stayed as he was. The barrel of his musket trembled.

  “Are you confident your new partner can be trusted?” Nels asked, in an attempt to keep Almari and the private distracted.

  “It isn’t as if I have much choice in the matter,” Almari said. “Apparently, you haven’t made friends in your new posting. That’s fast work. Even for the likes of you.”

  Nels shrugged. “Soldiers aren’t in the business of diplomacy. Neither are smugglers, it seems.”

  In one fluid motion, Reini stepped behind the private and looped a cord around his neck, jerking him off his feet. The pistols clattered to the stone floor. An instant passed before Nels thought to dive for them. Elbowing Almari out of the way, Nels straightened and then jammed the muzzle of the first pistol into Almari’s guts. Here’s hoping the private did a thorough job of ramming the patch.

  The private let out a gag before slumping. Lieutenant Reini lowered the limp form to the floor and stooped, placing a hand on the private’s throat.

  Nels collected the second gun and said to Almari. “Drop the knife and get against the wall.”

  Almari tossed the blade in disgust. “I hope you don’t think I’d have stained myself with your blood.”

  “Of course not,” Nels said, kicking the knife out of reach. “Although next time, you might want to invest in someone with more enthusiasm to do so for you.”

  Almari backed up to the cavern wall.

  “Sir, I know this man,” Reini said. “He’s Passi Hesso. I served with him under Major Lahtela. Not closely, mind you. But he’s definitely one of Moilanen’s.”

  Maybe Suvi was right about Reini after all. “Is he dead?” Nels asked.

  “No, sir. I was careful. And it takes a long time to strangle a man. You got Almari secure?”

  “For now,” Nels said.

  “Bring him here. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  Nels did so.

  “Where are my muskets?” Nels asked. “Answer my questions, and I’ll send someone to set you free after we’re gone. If not …” He shrugged. “You’re in Herraskariano visiting your aunt. No one’s going to think to look f
or you until it’s too late. There’ll be no blood if you starve. At least, none I’ll see. Technically, I wouldn’t even have to bother with cleansing rituals.”

  “Unnecessary suffering, sir,” Reini said. “Although I can leave a trail for the wolves. They won’t mind a free meal. Hold on. What am I thinking? It’s spring.” He snapped his fingers. A fiendish smile stretched across his ordinary mouth, and suddenly, Reini didn’t look so commonplace. “How do you feel about bears?”

  Almari shuddered. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Oh, trust me, I would,” Reini said.

  “Major Lahtela. He’s the one come calling,” Almari said. “Told me that private would see to you. Said there was extra in it if I kept things quiet.”

  Lahtela came to Almari directly? Damn it. Uncle Sakari is definitely on to us. Swiving hells.

  Hang on, Nels thought. Sakari has been in Ytlain for quite a while. All may not be lost. I don’t know how far up the chain this goes. Not yet. “All right,” he said, “get down on the floor.” The guns were impounded. Where are they being stored? And who else knows about what Suvi is up to?

  Reini used the rope to tie Almari and Private Hesso together and then stuffed a rag in Almari’s mouth. Nels collected the private’s powder horn and ammunition. With that done, Nels headed for the tunnel.

  “I had a look outside while you were entertaining our friends,” Reini said. “The captain and the mate aren’t alone.”

  Nels frowned. “I thought you said this would be easy.”

  “Never said that. I believe my exact words were that this was going to be like milking a sleeping cow.”

  “Exactly,” Nels said.

  “You don’t know much about cows, do you, sir?”

  “Next time, inform your superior officer before you let him walk into a trap.” Nels knew he should be angry, but they weren’t out of danger yet.

  “It worked, didn’t it?” Reini held open the tarp. “You should’ve seen your face. Did you honestly think I’d leave you to rot?”

  Nels checked either side of the doorway before he stepped through. “Lieutenant, I sincerely hope you aren’t too attached to those braids.”

  “You don’t want to demote me yet. Wait until after I tell you how we’re going to take care of the ones outside.”

  “Does it involve me getting my head blown off?”

  “No, sir. They’re not that effective with guns, not if they’re from Lahtela’s regiment. And there are only three of them. I’m sure of it.”

  “Like you were sure where our shipment was being stored?”

  “Now, that’s hardly fair. It wasn’t my fault it was impounded before we got here.”

  “All right. Tell me your plan.”

  “Do you know how to swim?”

  “No,” Nels said.

  “That buggers that idea. Your turn.”

  Nels paused. “We should take the back door to begin with. Once we’re there, I’m sure I’ll come up with something.”

  “Good idea, sir.”

  “Glad you think so,” Nels said, pointing to the iron rings anchored to the wall. “Because you’re going first. Just in case anyone is up there waiting for us.”

  Reini glanced up at the night sky through the long, rough tunnel. “Glad you’ve no hard feelings, sir.”

  Nels waited until Reini had reached the top and had signaled the clearing above was safe. Looping the musket strap over his shoulder, Nels began the climb. The iron rings felt slick and cold in his hands. Jagged stones and mortar abraded his knuckles. Almost at once, he wished he’d taken the time to remove his boots. They weren’t designed for climbing water-well walls. They were infantry boots. The hobnails protruding from the soles functioned to maintain footing on blood-soaked battlefields. Nels had learned a number of lessons in Onni, and among them was that he wanted to stay on his feet in a fight—no matter what he might be treading in or, for that matter, who. His cleats clawed at both wall and iron, and each attempt at inserting his toes in the rungs sent a shower of mortar and stone to the bottom. He shook a boot free of one rung and moved up to the next. The pistols and powder horn thumped heavily against his back and hip. He tried not to think about how far he’d fall if he slipped. By the time he had pulled himself over the well’s rim with a sigh of relief, his knuckles were raw and bleeding, and the toes of his infantry boots were thoroughly scratched. He was fairly certain he’d bent or lost at least two hobnails.

  Reini signaled to him from the tree line.

  When Nels was close enough, Lieutenant Reini whispered, “This way.”

  The approaching storm signaled warnings from the clouds, painting the scene in alternating color and shadow. One soldier stood ready at the dock, the second paced the long roof of the cabin, and the third stood guard at the cabin door. Each was armed with pistols and swords.

  “Damn it all,” Nels said. “I should’ve trusted you to handle Almari on your own. If I had, I would’ve been here to protect Captain Lumme.”

  “Or be captured as well.”

  “Give me some credit, will you?” Nels paused, thinking. “I’ve only two shots, and I can’t be of any use from this distance.” As much as he hated the thought of killing their own, he saw no other way around it. “How close do you think we can get before they know we’re here?”

  “Me? I can steal the boat from under them and be halfway down the river before they notice a thing,” Reini said. “You? Well … I’m amazed we got this far.”

  “All right. You go in first. I’ll draw their fire and take down as many of them as I can.” And hope none of them is a good shot. Nels took a deep breath.

  “Do try not to shoot me in the process.”

  “I’ll do my best, but I won’t make any promises.”

  “Terrific.”

  With a deep breath, Nels counted to one hundred. His heart thudded against his chest like a drum. His mouth was dry. He picked his first target—the private standing guard at the dock. Reini had good reason to be nervous. Acrasians didn’t rely upon guns for specific targets. They used muskets in ordered groups like a siege weapon. There was a reason for that. Muskets weren’t ­terribly accurate and neither were pistols. They were terribly effective in a unified blast, however.

  There are only three of them, Nels thought. With any luck, Reini will have taken down at least one of them before I’m close enough to engage. The irony that his own plan actually might involve him getting his head blown off didn’t slip past him. He told himself it wouldn’t be any different from a pistol duel, which was more about having the courage to stand against fire and less about anyone actually getting shot.

  When he was sure Reini had had enough time to get into position, Nels drew his pistols and made for the pier at a run. The downhill slope wasn’t steep from his position, and as hoped, the private took precious seconds to register what was happening. Nels made it to the cover provided by the trees at the river bank without mishap. He shouted to draw more attention. The private fired first. The explosion echoed off the surrounding hills. Spent powder smoke enveloped the bank. Nels got the sense that the ball hit something in the trees to his left. He didn’t check but kept moving, saving his shots for when he had the best chance of hitting. He ducked under a branch and reached the dock. His infantry boots thudded and clawed the dock planks. The private fired again. This time, Nels felt the wind of the ball’s passing against his right cheek. Nels pulled the trigger and felt the heat of the explosion. Powder smoke fogged his line of sight. He tasted grit and sulfur. The private dropped. Nels didn’t pause to check the fallen private. He jumped onto the boat deck and pointed his second pistol at the private dashing to the ladder set into the cabin’s wall.

  “Stop right there,” Nels said.

  Two hollow thumps and a grunt came from the boat’s roof. Reini, Nels thought. Must be.

  The second private slowly turned and then jumped from the ladder to the deck. Landing, he raised a dagger.

  Nels’s finger twitched against the
trigger. Powder smoke hissed. Misfire! Shi—

  The private slammed into Nels’s stomach, forcing the air from his lungs. The back of Nels’s head smacked the deck, and he lost his grip on both pistols. The private landed on top of him. Rolling, the private then scrambled to his feet. Nels stood and drew his sword. Twisting, he tried to parry the private’s lunge and missed. He felt a dull thump on the shoulder. Giving in to instinct, he dipped his chin down and rammed the top of his forehead into the private’s face as hard as he could. He was rewarded with the crunch of breaking bone. The private’s eyes rolled back, showing the whites before he dropped. Nels snatched the dagger from the planks and tossed it overboard. He grabbed his pistols at once, jammed them in his belt, and ran to the ladder. With his blade in his teeth, he climbed to the rooftop. He arrived in time to see Reini pitch over the side, pulling a corporal after him.

  I hope Reini can swim, Nels thought. He rushed to the roof’s edge and scanned the water. Reini broke the surface once with arms flailing before he sank again. Ah, that would be a no, gods damn it.

  Yanking off his boots and squirming out of his coat, Nels scanned the roof for anything that might float. He spied several wine casks tied off next to the rudder. That might do. He chopped the rope binding the barrels together. Dropping his weapons, he grabbed the lightest cask. Then he took four deep breaths, lifted the cask, held it tight, and ran for the roof ledge. One leap and he was over the river.

  I swiving hate water, damn it. I really swiving hate—

  He hit the surface curled around the cask, landing where he’d last seen Reini go down. The edge of the cask smacked him under the chin and hammered him in the ribs, hard. He tasted blood. Stinging pain clawed his wounded shoulder. None of it was as immediate as the press of water. He had time to wonder if he’d missed Reini completely, when he felt a frantic hand clamp onto his leg. Opening his eyes, he discovered he couldn’t see in the murk. The cask began to tug him upward as hoped. Unfortunately, it was no match for Reini’s thrashing. Reini clawed Nels’s face. Nels was kicked twice. Reini switched to Nels’s injured shoulder.