Frostfire

by Jamie Smith

  YOU WANT TO CAPTURE AND QUESTION AN ARMED SOLDIER? THIS SEEMS … UNWISE.

  It did sound silly, she had to admit. However young, the conscript was a grown man, a trained fighter. She was one girl, tired, injured, and unarmed save for the frostsliver. But she had to know what they were doing here, and this was her chance. She wasn’t going to get a better one.

  For once, the mountain had provided the answer, not the problem. Sabira remembered the snow-spine stinger. She had brought it all this way in the hope that it might be valuable to someone when she got home. It was going to be valuable much sooner.

  She silently unpacked it from its place in the healer’s kit. The water hadn’t gotten inside, so it was as pristine as when she had lopped it off its owner on the mountainside, if slightly desiccated. The venom should be just fine, though—she knew from her father that it stayed potent.

  Sabira gently squeezed a drop from the sac, allowing it to bead on the tip of the stinger. Any more than that might permanently paralyze. In a way, that wasn’t entirely unappealing. The frostsliver in particular didn’t seem to care. In fact, Sabira thought she caught a hint of enthusiasm from it.

  THEY DESTROYED THE ENTRANCE TO THE MOUNTAIN. NEARLY KILLED US. DID KILL TSERAH. REMEMBER.

  “He has to be able to talk,” Sabira told it, slightly disturbed by the feelings that were coming through the bond, “or what’s the point?”

  She didn’t want to give in to that kind of feeling. She had seen what happened when people did. Burning forests. Red-hot lashes.

  THIS WILL NOT BE WITHOUT BLOOD. EVEN IF ADRANNA IS WARNED, THERE WILL STILL BE WAR.

  Sabira did her best to ignore these words as she ducked out of her recess and, worried that she might lose her prey, quickly padded after the soldier’s lantern glow. Not as quickly as she would have liked—her knee was still stiffened by the frostsliver’s numbing chill.

  “I need my leg back,” she told the frostsliver mentally, and pain flared in her knee. The spike of agony only faded when the brace once more took up the strain.

  JUST … BE CAREFUL. FOR BOTH OF OUR SAKES.

  Heart pounding, Sabira pushed on toward the soldier, stinger clutched firmly in hand. She had surprise on her side, but this could go wrong with the slightest mistake.

  Sabira crept closer, staying by the cave wall, where she might just hope to be mistaken for a shadow if he turned. She got within a few strides of the soldier, close enough that she could see the light glinting off the metal barrel of his musket.

  Then her boot tapped a pebble, sending it skittering across the ground, and Sabira’s heart almost stopped. It would have been the end of her, had she frozen.

  I AM WITH YOU! GO!

  She darted forward as the soldier began to turn, the magical brace on her leg pushing her into a powerful leap. As she flew toward him, she turned the stinger under the young soldier’s hood and nicked his neck with the poisoned point. Instantly, he stiffened, his muscles locking as the venom coursed into him. He began to topple over a heartbeat later.

  It was almost comical, but since he was about to hit the ground too hard to be funny, Sabira swept in and caught as much of his weight as she could manage without accidentally sticking him with the stinger a second time. His lantern clattered to the ground first, its glass smashing and light sputtering out, and Sabira winced at the sound.

  As soon as he was on the ground, Sabira grabbed the soldier’s hood and dragged him away down a side passage. The others probably wouldn’t come searching, but best not to risk it.

  It was lucky that he was so slight, for Sabira found it difficult to haul him along even as it was. She gave up as soon as they were out of sight of the main tunnel. Though her muscles quivered with adrenaline, Sabira had to smile. She’d done it.

  Sabira knelt next to her captive and pulled his hood and goggles back, exposing a typical Ignatian face, though one that looked gaunt and thin. Now that Sabira was able to look closer, she saw that he was even younger than she had thought. This soldier couldn’t be more than eighteen. Maybe less.

  DO NOT LET THAT FOOL YOU.

  She nodded as he stirred a little, and tried to ready herself, hoping that she and the frostsliver were now in agreement. The frostsliver gave her its answer by numbing her knee again and growing into the shape of a hunting knife in her hand. Sabira moved closer to the soldier, watchful for any surprises. He shouldn’t be able to move for a while, but Sabira wasn’t taking any chances. Hopefully the dosage would let him speak, or this was going to be awkward.

  The Ignatian’s eyelids flickered open, and the instant that they did, she moved the frostsliver knife to his throat, attempting to appear threatening. As she did so, his dark eyes widened and words cracked his lips open.

  “Aderasti … ,” he said, his frightened eyes reflecting frostfire from her glowing knife.

  Sabira did her best not to betray how unsure of herself she was, gripping her weapon tighter and inching it closer.

  “Just remember, I could kill you right now,” she said.

  “You’re not going to kill me.”

  Sabira wasn’t sure how he could know that. She certainly didn’t, and the frostsliver didn’t have any qualms about the idea.

  ONLY IF HE TWITCHES WRONGLY.

  “What have you done to me?” he asked.

  The last bit had some fear in it. What was it about him that seemed so familiar?

  “It’ll wear off eventually,” Sabira answered, and on impulse added, “if I let it.”

  She took a moment to think about what she wanted to say next, going through possible ways to inspire fear. Each sounded silly in her head.

  “Wait,” the boy said. “I know you. You were there when Yupin burned the forest.”

  “What?” Sabira said, stunned.

  “I said that he’d let you go if you didn’t fight him. I’m sorry. I didn’t know he’d have us fire volleys at you.”

  Sabira’s hand tightened around the frostsliver dagger. He wasn’t lying—now he’d said it, she did recognize him. That was when she had heard his voice before, though she only half remembered it now. He had set the blasting powder that brought the avalanche down, but he hadn’t wanted to. He had been there at the forest, one of the monsters who hurt her mother. Maimed Kyran. Except he hadn’t done the hurting.

  “I’m going to save my people,” she said grimly, choosing not to respond to his words, “and you’re going to help me.”

  “Why?”

  She racked her brain for something that she could offer. Certainly not money or power, but there might be something more valuable.

  “Escape?” she suggested. It hadn’t sounded like he wanted to be here.

  “How’re you going to manage that?” he croaked. That was good—he hadn’t dismissed the idea.

  HE MAY BE PLAYING FOR TIME.

  Sabira silently agreed that it was worth being wary. Still, this was promising.

  “If you helped me, Adranna would welcome you,” she said. “You could be free of the army.”

  “You’ve been listening for a while, haven’t you?” her prisoner replied.

  “I heard enough.”

  “Then you know how many of us are coming for your city. Adranna is not going to be a safe place for me, or you, or anyone soon.”

  Sabira moved the dagger away from her captive and sat down next to him. It was clear that threats were pointless. She tried a different tack.

  “It didn’t sound like you all want to be doing this,” she said. “I think maybe you’re one of those who don’t. Why don’t you tell me exactly what we’re facing—and how to find them, and what their plans are?”

  He gave a quiet, humorless laugh before answering.

  “There are a thousand men in the regiment, as if it will help you—and I think you can guess what they intend to do.”

  NOTHING GOOD.

  “Humor me,” Sabira said, needing to be sure.

  “You think it’ll matter? They tell us that Aderasti can’t figh
t, and I’m guessing there’s some truth to it. We have lots of muskets, and you have none. Even your frostslivers won’t beat that. Your ice walls will be useless—the army isn’t going to go near them. In a few days, they’ll blast out of the mountain behind the walls, into the city itself.”

  His strength had come back a little, and his words were no longer so weak. Sabira thought she heard a note of, what, defiance in them? This was a man who understood the power his people wielded, even if he didn’t like it. Did that mean that he stood with them, or did it make him oppose them all the more?

  “You’re wondering how you can trust a word I tell you,” he said, reading her thoughts. “I would too, but if you think I might be lying for them, look at my back. You’ll see how much love I have for the Ignatian army.”

  Sabira didn’t understand, but she pushed him into a sitting position all the same, not bothering to be all that gentle. With the kind of brusque efficiency that her father always used with patients, she pulled up the soldier’s coat and the shirt beneath, exposing the skin of his back.

  She gasped at the sight. She had heard the other soldiers say that this young man had tasted the branding lash, but she had not understood the full reality of what that meant. The lash had left his back a horrible mess of burn scars. No, it was worse than that.

  They were not just burns, but letters. Each segment of that metal whip had to be a different symbol. It was the most evil kind of pen Sabira could imagine. Of course, she couldn’t recognize the words, but that didn’t make it less horrific.

  “The first one says ‘conscript,’ ” explained the young soldier. “The next is ‘troublemaker,’ the third, ‘thief.’ The fourth says ‘coward’—I got it because I didn’t fire at you and your mother with the rest. They give you the first one on the day they write your name in the ledger. The volunteers, like Lifan, get a different one—and claim they’re proud of it, but I guess they would, wouldn’t they?”

  HE COULD BE LYING. TRYING TO GAIN YOUR TRUST.

  It was possible.

  “Yupin had those brands under his eyes,” said Sabira slowly. “He seemed pretty committed to the cause.”

  The soldier nodded.

  “Some zealots have it done to themselves. Ember-priests, and the people who follow them, like Colonel Yupin. Faith and duty, Yupin says. It’s about showing their belief. They think it doesn’t count unless it’s written by the lash.” He saw the revulsion in her face and quickly added, “Not all of us believe in those stupid superstitions. We’re not all like him.”

  Sabira stiffened at hearing confirmation that Yupin was somewhere in these caverns. She’d guessed, but knowing made it so much worse.

  She continued, trying to keep the fear out of her voice, “Then why hasn’t anyone stopped him from attacking Adranna?”

  “The judge who was supposed to be in charge of this mission tried when she discovered her diplomatic delegation had been turned into an invasion. Once they left Adranna, Yupin beat her bloody, branded her a coward, and took her prisoner, along with anyone who supported her. Not many thought about speaking up after that.” He bowed his head. “If I was anything, I’d have tried—but it would have just earned more brands. I wouldn’t have followed the army down here if I’d had a choice.”

  Judge Meihu. She’d been in Adranna only days ago, an obstacle between the colonel and his fanaticism. It didn’t sound like there had been much resistance to his removing it. That was the power of fear, dividing any opposition. This soldier might have resisted if others had, but alone he could do nothing.

  Sabira looked at the man—or boy—trying to find some sure sign he could be trusted. She could see one of his fingers twitching. The snow-spine venom wouldn’t last forever. She had to make up her mind.

  Meeting his bright eyes for a few long seconds, Sabira said, “But you do have a choice—now.”

  She went to her pack and extracted the flask she had found at the monastery. Still mostly full, she thought it might make a good peace offering. She unscrewed it, prepared her tongue for the fiery taste, and took a swig.

  URRGH. I AM CONNECTED TO YOUR SENSES, REMEMBER?

  “Who are you anyway? What’s your name?” she asked, ignoring the frostsliver’s complaint and putting the flask to the soldier’s lips while hoping the burning sensation in her throat would go away soon.

  “Danlin, former chemic apprentice, now a faceless conscript of the mighty Ignatian army,” he said, accepting a dose of the dark liquid with a smile.

  “Well, faceless conscript, I’m Sabira, and together we’re going to find a way to stop that mighty army of yours in its tracks.”

  SABIRA AND DANLIN navigated the mountain’s passages for hours, Danlin always trudging, crawling, or climbing ahead of her.

  “It’s times like these I miss home,” Danlin said. “Not a single tunnel there, and bluish skies besides. Not so many things wanting to eat me either. Or stab me. Or shoot me. Shouldn’t have left.”

  Sabira had relieved him of his musket and carried it as she followed him down the tunnel, though she hated even touching the weapon. It wasn’t entirely clear to her how the thing worked, but she’d seen crossbows before, and hoped not only that it was similar, but also that she wouldn’t need to find out.

  “You know, even with my musket, I don’t think you’ll be able to take on an army by yourself,” commented Danlin. “And I doubt you can use that poison stuff on everyone—what was that anyway? I had blurred vision for ages—and I think my toes are still tingling.”

  He talked a lot, often not expecting a reply.

  “Guess your recruiters got you early too, then. You must be what, fifteen, sixteen?” Danlin said, glancing over his shoulder to check. “You look a bit young to be fighting a war.”

  Like he could talk.

  “We don’t have recruiters,” she replied.

  Before she could say more, he continued, “What’s it like having one of those frostslivers? Does it tell you what to do? I’ve heard you people think frostslivers are gods.”

  The frostsliver chimed in amusement, liking the idea.

  YES—WORSHIP ME!

  Danlin jumped at the noise and turned to stare.

  Sabira shook her head, smirking. “Go on,” she said. “We have to hurry.”

  A minute later, they came to another open cavern, rimmed with a dozen other passageways. The way forward wasn’t obvious, and Danlin stopped in the center to cast his eye over the rough stone. Sabira didn’t spot any real difference between the first few, and Danlin bypassed each before coming to a passage lit by the glow of blue fungi. Sabira sucked in a breath at the sight of them, remembering the last time she’d noticed lots of the strange glowing fungi—she’d seen the yeti soon afterward.

  “Not that way,” she said, getting the frostsliver to slide into her hand and form a little yeti, by way of explanation. Danlin gaped at it and then nodded.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. “Those things seem to like these mushrooms.”

  TRY THAT PATH—THE ONE WITH THE BOULDER.

  It pointed a tiny yeti paw, and she followed the frostsliver’s suggestion.

  “The camp won’t be much farther down,” Danlin called back to her, reaching the bottom of a shaft. “Assuming they managed to keep to schedule.”

  “I don’t want to walk straight into them,” Sabira said. “I need to find somewhere to take a look without being spotted.”

  “These caverns are riddled with passages and outcroppings. I’m sure that’s possible if we’re careful.”

  Several times they almost stumbled into a patrol of soldiers, and every time Sabira half expected Danlin to cry out to them for rescue—but he didn’t. Eventually, they found a crack of light in a passage wall and pushed through to a ledge above the biggest cavern Sabira had yet seen; it was lit with the flicker of flame.

  “You’ve been good so far,” said Sabira. “Don’t wreck that now.”

  She tapped the musket, and the soldier nodded in reply, with n
one of his usual chatter. Quickly, she and Danlin settled onto their bellies and edged forward, right up to the rock lip, before peering over.

  Lanterns had been pinned to the walls and fires burned on the floor, fouling the air and lighting the cave walls in harsh yellowish colors that Sabira had barely seen in days. The Ignatians had made camp right next to the glacier. Finding it again should have been good news, but here its frostfire fought with the blazes next to it and was of no comfort.

  In this cavern alone there had to be a hundred men sitting around their campfires, and other fires shone in the multitude of passages beyond. A thousand soldiers. Sabira clenched her fists so hard she started to tremble.

  THEY WILL PAY. WE WILL FIND A WAY TO MAKE THEM PAY.

  This must have been the colonel’s plan all along, even as he and the other Ignatians came to Adranna as envoys for peace. That army that had come with him—the one her mother had thought a show of force—was an invasion. The moment the talks had failed—and how could they not, with Yupin involved?—they had only pretended to leave and instead started up the mountain to find the secret way through it. Perhaps Yupin’s Aderasti mother had told him the old stories too. Sabira wanted to scream. How could they betray the Aderasti like this?

  “Are you all right?” Danlin whispered.

  Sabira looked at him, nodded slowly. He hadn’t asked for this, any more than she had. What would she have done in his place, forced to fight under threat of torture or death? She was glad not to know the answer.

  “Even if I warn them … I’m not sure Adranna will be able to defend itself,” said Sabira softly, letting the realization sink in.

  Danlin looked at her grimly. He had known that all along.

  The city’s inaccessibility was its best defense, not strength in numbers. These soldiers would break out from the rock face at the city’s back and swarm across her home before defenders could respond. Adranna was doomed.