by Daniel Casey
The two of them had entered the city earlier that morning. The streets had been busy but it hadn’t been anything like this. The buildings all looked the same no matter how far down the street they walked or how many thin alleys that Cochrane took them down. They tried cutting through some processions, escaping others by staying close to the edges of the street or finding a bisecting alley. Unfortunately, there was no avoiding the processions.
They had successfully circumvented one only to find themselves then pinched between it and the one they currently found themselves enmeshed. The two had merged into a single knot of standing bodies that inched along at a snail’s pace. Jena tried to move back towards Cochrane but it was a vain effort. She then stopped and tried to let the people go by her. It worked and after about twenty minutes, she was next to him again.
“This is madness.” She said exhausted.
“I told you. Fucking hate festivals.” Cochrane grumbled.
“This is almost as bad as moving livestock.”
He gave a disgusted grunt of approval, “You have no idea.”
She looked around and saw another alley a little more than a hundred feet ahead of them. She gestured with her head, “You think we can weave our way there?” Cochrane looked to see what she meant. Frowning, he nodded and the two of them tried their best to move a step at a time through the tight crush of bodies.
“At least the warm of all these people keeps the chill at bay, eh?” She said after a few minutes. Turning her head, she saw that they were separated again. He caught her eye and gestured for her to keep on. It took Jena nearly a half hour to get to the alley’s mouth. She rested for a moment in the precious space, and then looked to see how Cochrane was fairing. He was maybe a little less than half way to her from where they started, not more than fifty feet. She raised a hand to try to catch his eye.
Cochrane saw her and smiled. He swayed to the side and looked towards the platform. It had stopped. Jena felt exasperated as the carriers began their little dance. She flopped her arms to her sides. This is going to take forever, she thought. She looked back towards Cochrane and saw the annoyance on his face. She smiled but then saw something strange.
Nearly everyone was looking to the platform, watching the dancing icons on the golden pagoda and singing their hymns. All but Cochrane and the man behind him. Tall with broad shoulders, his face was unnervingly serene. Jena had never seen someone with skin so dark. He wasn’t looking at her; his gaze was burning a hole in the back of Cochrane’s head.
Jena called out to him but her voice just evaporated in the din of song and cheering as the platform spun. Cochrane was lost in his own immediate rage at the situation he was in, glowering at everyone in front and next to him. The man didn’t look like he was being jostled at all. He moved with precision never letting his line of sight to Cochrane break.
Finally, Cochrane was close enough to hear her. He winced and mouthed ‘what.’ Jena pointed behind him, gestured for him to turn around and see. When he did, it was too late. The man stood directly behind Cochrane. He spun and she could tell he wasn’t just startled but panicked. The man didn’t look like he could be moved. His head bent down looking at Cochrane. Jena didn’t see either man’s hands move, but suddenly Cochrane turned back around facing her. He was white, his eyes empty of life but frozen in terror.
He wavered back and forth, as the people around him began to move again. He wasn’t moving. His shoulders were struck and then Jena saw him drop down into the sea of people. The crowd was pushed too close together to take note of Cochrane falling under its feet. She screamed out Cochrane’s name and thought about trying to fight her way back to him. There were too many people and nothing she could do.
The assassin was gone. She scanned the crowd but he was nowhere to be seen. Jena had never believed anyone could vanish. She knew how to make herself seemingly disappear; she knew the tricks. There was a sharp burn of panic along her spine. Was this a bounty hunter? Had he mistaken Cochrane and now after her? But no, he was gone. She leaned against the alley wall and cursed. She waited.
It took nearly an hour for the procession to move on enough for her to reach the body. When she reached him, she picked him up off the ground and dragged him to the alley. His eyes were open. He had smudges on his face from where he had been stepped on. His fingers were twisted and broken. There was a wet red wound at the base of his skull. The man had pithed him, severing his spine from his brain. Jena looked at him in silence for a moment then slapped his body’s chest as she released a bellow. Rage reddened her face. She sat back against the opposite wall of the alley and just stared at the body.
After what felt like hours, she heard a queer grinding noise that over took the distant noise of the processions. It was the sound of stone on stone. A not too distant rumble that she could feel in the ground, the vibrations giving a tingling sensation in her legs and ass. The body slouched to one side and then fell over. Jena stood, ran her hands over her face and slapped herself a couple of times. She shook her head, turned away from the body, and walked down the alley at a brisk pace. The night before, he had told her what the sound would signal. The Cathedral had drawn itself in; the rumble was the sound of the promenade disappearing, of the Conclave beginning.
CHAPTER 6
7th of Winterfinding
Spires Army
“That,” Evness stood at the entrance of the tent with his hands behind his back surveying the camp, “was the sound of our defeat.”
The rumbling had started nearly an hour ago. It was deep and constant, not enough to make things shake but you felt it. When the sound reached the camp, soldiers had stopped in their tracks. They looked to the sky and at each other in complete confusion. A storm, distant thunder? Was something coming, a great horde? Had a piece of the sky fallen? An earthquake? Had the buildings of the city collapsed? Had the siege begun? Everything was questions. Every face bewildered and nervy.
Evness was in Vikram’s tent when it happened. They both looked out towards the city. Then, the older man had started to laugh, a cackle possessing a kind of proleptic desperation. It made Vikram visibly recoil.
“They have no idea what is going on.” Evness pointed.
Vikram tapped the desk absentmindedly, “The Cathedral or us?”
“Yes.”
“I need to go and present to Matis.” Vikram could see Evness tense. “You need to go back to Ardavass.”
Evness half-turned, “I’m being exiled back home?”
“That is not the case.”
“Then what is?” Evness barked. “I’ve served this army and, more importantly, that boy’s family for faithfully for years. And now this.”
“Matis isn’t fit to lead.” Vikram didn’t look at Evness but felt his eyes on him.
“Say that again.”
“No, I won’t.” Vikram shook his head casually and collected three tiny scrolls in one hand. “I am going to take these reports to the Grand General. I am going to tell him I’ve sent you away, as he asked and that will make him glad. You are going to ride hard and fast. You are going to walk into the assemblage and tell the kyrios exactly what Matis has done, and when you return, you will bring among other things a command to remove him.”
Evness tapped his sword hilt as he mulled over what Vikram had said. He moved back into the tent. His voice was low, “That could take longer than you have.”
“It’s the only choice available to us.”
“To you.”
Vikram raised an eyebrow. “And what would you do? Sulk.”
“Watch yourself.”
“Would you raise a hand? Split this army apart for your vanity.”
“I would never…”
“Or just take out your frustrations by giving sour advice?”
Evness’s brow furrowed and jaw clenched. “I am a proper soldier.”
“I know you are.” Vikram’s voice changed as his gaze met Evness’s. It was harsh and for the first time in a long time, Evness felt a twinge
of fear. “This is what we do. This is how it’s done.” Vikram hissed through his teeth. “Now get on a horse and do what needs be done. It might end up being too late here, but that’s inconsequential. We have to look ahead.”
“He would never attack during the Conclave.” Evness asserted.
“He will not attack but not because the Conclave has been convened. The Bandrans won’t allow him to move on The Cathedral. He won’t risk losing their allegiance. They’re all that props him up, and he knows it.”
“I’ll go.” Evness said as he moved out of the tent. “It’ll take me a few weeks, maybe more if the weather doesn’t cooperate.”
“The Light will shine on you.” Vikram patted him on the shoulder. “I hope to see your face again.” Vikram left the tent and made for Grand General Matis’s pavilion.
12th of Winterfinding
The Taiga
The wind was constant though not overwhelming. Snow from the sky merged with snow from the drifts on the ground leaving no horizon to speak of. Shades of white were created the only contours. Soon a figure emerged from deep within the whiteout followed by another smaller figure struggling to keep pace.
The first figure paused looking back. The pair in layers of blue-grey clothing each worn dark black wrappings around their heads. Their movements were slow as though they were under water due to the weight of their packs and the thickness of their coverings. There was a slim brim above the space each had made for their eyes. Snow had collected in every crevice on them. The smaller figure was having difficulty making its way through the drifts even as it followed in the first figure’s tracks.
Finally, the second made it to the first. There was no speaking. Rather the first and taller figure pointed downward and the smaller nodded. Both began digging. Slowly the pair began to disappear as the snow around them increased. Finally, the pair had dug enough sown out and deep enough that the quinzhee was complete almost looking like just another snow drift.
Inside the snow cave, the larger figure was gently patting the snow above and around the pair smoothing out the pseudo-walls and roof. Roth paused and pulled down the wrappings around his face and let out a long, exhausted sigh. He looked Colm over and smiled. The boy was still covered having nestled himself between their two packs.
“Not really enough time for this to sinter properly but it’ll do. Keep us warm enough to rest for a bit. You feeling well?” Roth spoke to Colm in the cant.
Colm was breathing heavy and just nodded. Roth was reclined on his side, his knees brought up nearly to his chest. “Alright then, well, if this collapses while we sleep, we’ll make for a lovely dead couple come the thaw.”
Colm said something but it was muffled by his scarves. “I can’t hear you.” Roth said.
He pulled his wrappings down. “I said that’s not funny.”
“Course it is.”
“I hate this. I’ve never been so cold.”
Roth waved him off, “It’s going to get a lot colder.”
“Why couldn’t we just wait for the others?”
“You know why.”
“But why.”
“Because you aren’t part of this. You’re not one of ‘the others.’”
“I rather Jena had come with us.”
Roth nodded and looked wistful, “Aye, I would have liked that too.” Colm looked at him, and Roth smiled. “Another body would lighten the load and increase the warmth.” He smiled at him.
Colm rolled his eyes, “You shouldn’t brush it off so. One day you might joke and hurt her feelings.”
Roth blinked, “I think I liked you better when you didn’t speak.”
Colm shook his head, “No you didn’t.”
“Yeah, you’re right, I didn’t.” Roth smiled. “Come over here and huddle up. It’s going to a long night and we need to keep our heat in.” Roth held his arms open as Colm crawled his way over and nestled into the crook of Roth’s body. The storm persisted as the two fell asleep almost immediately.
The pair had been travelling nearly non-stop since leaving the ternary headwaters. They had left ahead of the others down the Sorrent River, which eventually lead to Sulecin. However, a third of the way downriver they departed the ferry they had booked passage on and headed northeast. Roth was heading overland to Hythe. From there they had gone due north
It would have been faster to go down the Falkstone, but it was a heavily travelled route. If there were Spires’s soldiers coming after them or other mercenaries, they would look first to the main thoroughfares. Next to the High Road and the Elmander River, the Falkstone was the prime artery for trade and travel. Roth didn’t want to take any chances.
The last village they had seen was Medves, a sad collection of yurts, tents, and impermanent looking wooden sheds. There were no proper streets, just dirt paths that meandered through the current conglomeration of housing. The village was little more than a waystation. Most of its inhabitants were drifters or boatmen waiting or begging for the next job. These were the people who didn’t have it in them to go all the way to Far Port but had nowhere to return to or lacked the resources. Usually, it was both.
They were well beyond that sad village. They had sold their horses and most of what they had of value. Roth had bought the furs they would need, dried food, and water. It hadn’t occurred to Colm that they’d need more water than what they had.
“Can’t we just refill out botas in creeks or ponds?” He had asked.
Roth had taken to answering every question that Colm posed to him in a very direct manner. The boy liked this and it kept the two talking, distracted from the monotony of their trek.
“What there will be will be frozen.”
“So can’t we just eat the snow?”
Roth had shook his head, “You can but it’ll do you in. It takes too much effort for your body to melt the snow and what little water you get isn’t worth it. You lose your heat. You never want to lose your heat.”
“But you can, eat snow. If you’re desperate.”
“I’m not going to let us get to that point. But yeah, you can. Best to melt it though. Then you’re usually fine.” He conceded.
“And our water won’t freeze in these packs?”
“Oh, it’ll get damn cold and may even get a bit chunky, but it’ll stay. These are lined with skins from Far Port. Seals. And are well padded on top of that.”
“Seals?”
“Imagine a dog-sized sausage only with short fur and a sort of flipper.”
“Sounds bizarre. How do I know you’re not making that up?”
“You don’t.” Roth had smiled at him. Inane conversations littered their paths. It seemed as though both were happy to have a reason to talk.
When morning came, the light seemed to want to pierce the snow. The shoddy quinzhee seemed to glow. Roth woke first and slid around Colm, punching his way through the entrance, which had gotten a bit snowed over. Light poured into the snow cave. When it struck Colm, the boy awakened immediately.
Roth grabbed a pack and dragged it out with him. Crawling out from in the snow, he emerged into a nearly pristine plain of glitter new snow. The shockingly blue sky halved the world sharing it with the broad white of the taiga. In the far distance, Roth saw the tree line. That was where they were heading, the last great forest. A seemingly endless knot of evergreens awaited them. Colm emerged, coughed, and shielded his eyes because the glare was so bright.
“How far?” He asked.
“We should get to the tree line before dark. Well before if things go right.”
“Will things go right?”
“Why wouldn’t they.”
“There’s always a reason.” Colm said as he hefted his pack on his back and started walking. Roth chuckled. He re-wrapped his scarves around his face and head, made sure all this layers were closed tightly, and threw his own pack over his shoulder. He followed Colm.
“Know where you’re going do you?”
“You said the tree line.” Colm gestured towards
the forest. “Those are the only trees.”
“Aye.” From within one of his coat’s pockets Roth pulled out what looked like a piece of bark. “Here, eat this.”
Colm took what Roth offered and slipped it under his scarves into his mouth. “What is it?” He mumbled.
“A kind of fish. Suck on it, let it get soft, and chew it up well.”
“It tastes awful.” Colm didn’t enjoy the fish but felt stronger as he did.
“You’ll get used to it.”
“I don’t want to get used to it.”
“Well, then you won’t eat because that’s what we have.”
“Why won’t you just eat meat like everyone else?”
“Fish is meat.”
“I’ve never heard anyone say that.”
“When we get to Verkana, you can have all the meat you want.”
“They don’t all eat like you do?”
“No, they do.”
“Then how?”
“There aren’t just people like me. There are people like you there.”
“Oh.” The two were breathing heavy as their conversation died out. The evergreen forest slowly came closer with its trees’ branches weighed down with snow and eerily still. It waited patiently for the two dark specks in an otherwise white snow plain to arrive.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Daniel Casey has a MFA in Creative Writing-Poetry from the University of Notre Dame. He has been an adjunct English instructor, a soccer journalist, and a literary magazine editor. Winterfinding is his second novel in his Ascendant Realms series, the first being Adversaries Together.