Frostfire

by Jamie Smith

  “You may not be men and women anymore, but you once had family and homes in Adranna. And you know these men are invaders. You know they mean our people harm.”

  She met Kyran’s eyes—saw something of him in the blank face.

  “They mean our home harm—and they want Aderast’s power for themselves! They do not understand that some things are sacred—that some things cannot be stolen!”

  The murmuring was rising to a roar. The yeti started to stamp their feet.

  The frostsliver flowed into her hand instinctively, an icicle of power glowing in her palm, its frostfire mingling with that of the yeti. “Join us to fight. Join us to stop the invaders. Join us to save everything that you once loved!”

  Then Yeti-Kyran slowly raised one paw into the air above its head and made a noise like the breaking of a great ice sheet. Others followed his lead, filling the cavern until the walls shook with reverberating, resonating sound.

  Some part of these creatures knew what they once had been. Perhaps it was just a thread of emotion rather than a memory, but it was enough.

  “Can you feel them?” she asked the frostsliver, and it dinged in agreement. “Then they can feel you too. We can do this!”

  As the yeti looked on, Sabira raised her hands above her head in imitation of the yeti’s gestures, fingers shaking. After she gave it a mental image, the frostsliver transformed. A head formed on top of her palms, growing larger and more hideous by the moment, spilling across both her hands. The instant the fake yeti head was complete, it roared too, somewhere between the usual chime of the frostsliver and the cracking growls the creatures made.

  The yeti’s feelings were simple ones. Protect their home. Survive. They weren’t so different from Sabira. She latched onto that sense, closing her eyes and pushing it out to the crowd as they pressed in close. We’re the same, she willed them, and we are needed.

  FORWARD! the frostsliver cried.

  “Forward!” Sabira shouted.

  The frostsliver and Sabira called to Aderast’s new army and, as one, the yeti obeyed.

  THE YETI FOLLOWED Sabira as she navigated through the mountain, Yeti-Kyran most receptive of all, striding alongside Sabira at their fore.

  YOU KNOW I FEEL WHAT YOU DO. I WISH IT WERE OTHERWISE, BUT HE IS NOT WHO HE WAS.

  The frostsliver was right—and it was also wrong.

  “He’s still my brother,” Sabira shot back.

  Even so, Sabira couldn’t ignore the sound of the creature’s stumping gait. That had been her fault, and she was about to pull him and his fellow cursed souls into something worse. Maybe she was no better than the Ignatians.

  WE ARE RIGHTEOUS.

  “The Ignatians think the same thing,” Sabira replied.

  Despite her misgivings, Sabira’s heart swelled as she strode on. She felt like one of the legends in the stories, only instead of a traveling bard, or an explorer, or a philosopher, she was a general, marshaling her troops for battle.

  At the next open cavern, Sabira called a halt. She shrugged off her pack, deciding that it was better to have mobility than what little was left in it. She retrieved the valuable snow-spine stinger, though, tucking it into her belt for safety.

  The Ignatians were camped nearby, and she had to think about how to spring the attack. She motioned for the yeti to wait, then crept on ahead, treading softly.

  ARE YOU SURE THAT THIS IS WHAT YOU WANT TO DO?

  “I didn’t think you would object,” she replied silently.

  NOT TO THE RESULTS, BUT TO THE RISK. THIS WILL BE A BATTLE. I AM NOT INVINCIBLE, AND YOU ARE NOT A WARRIOR.

  Though Sabira understood, the rebuke stung a little after what they had been through together.

  “Frost-clerics have fought before,” she said firmly. “Bears and bandits and all sorts.”

  TRUE, BUT YOU ARE NOT A FROST-CLERIC. TSERAH AND I COULD HAVE FOUGHT MANY SOLDIERS. YOU ARE INEXPERIENCED AND WEAKENED BY EVERYTHING WE HAVE DONE. I WILL DEFEND YOU, BUT ENOUGH DAMAGE WILL KILL EVEN ME. I MEAN NO INSULT—BUT THERE IS NO SHAME IN KNOWING YOUR LIMITS.

  “No, but there is in giving in to them,” said Sabira defiantly.

  The frostsliver seemed to hesitate. YOU … YOU ARE RIGHT.

  “I have to … Wait, what?”

  I GAVE IN BEFORE WHEN I LEFT TSERAH. IT WASN’T WRONG, WHAT WE DID, BUT I DID IT OUT OF FEAR, AND THAT WAS WRONG. THIS MAY BE OUR END, AND I AM STILL AFRAID. I KNOW YOU ARE TOO. BUT WE’LL RISK IT ANYWAY. I AM WITH YOU—TO THE END.

  Sabira nodded, smiled, and crept on until she could peek into the Ignatian camp through a crack in the wall. A few men were on watch, and Sabira shrank back before they could spot her. She was not going to make the same mistake twice.

  If the yeti could surround the area without being spotted, they could take the Ignatians by surprise. They weren’t the stealthiest of creatures, but if even half the plan worked out, it could considerably improve their odds.

  The frostsliver sighed in her head, a tinkling sound like crystal.

  IF YOU’RE TO FIGHT, I SUPPOSE YOU SHOULD BE ARMED.

  “How about a magic bow?” Sabira suggested to her bonded partner with a smile.

  AND FIRE PART OF MYSELF AT THEM? ALTERNATIVELY, YOU COULD CHOP OFF YOUR OWN ARM AND THROW IT AT THE ENEMY?

  Instead, Sabira made do with what she had used before, pausing for a moment to let the frostsliver become a hunting dagger. It didn’t look like much.

  I SHALL MAKE IMPROVEMENTS.

  The ice dagger immediately lengthened in Sabira’s hand until it was twice its previous length. She had a sword. She had an army. Sabira was ready to fight.

  * * *

  Sabira waited for the yeti to lumber through side passages and surround the Ignatian camp. She listened, hoping that they had understood her properly, and waited for the first sign of human voices. It came soon enough, when an Ignatian sentry cried out in alarm, screaming about monsters to anyone who would listen.

  “Charge!” Sabira yelled, the frostsliver’s own icy battle cry ringing between her ears.

  Frostsliver blade raised, she pelted away from her forces toward the Ignatians, hoping the yeti wouldn’t choose now to abandon her. They didn’t, joining the pursuit with surprising speed for creatures that looked so clumsy.

  The sight of campfires and shadows appeared around a corner moments later. No going back now. Yeti were pouring from the passages all around, and the air was filled with their roars.

  Startled soldiers were roused from eating meals or sleeping, warned by the yelling sentry but not yet understanding the danger. Cook pots were still being stirred, and Sabira could see at the rear of the cavern that the soldiers’ blasting-powder barrels remained under guard.

  A second after she emerged, the yeti burst out around her, Yeti-Kyran the first to rush to protect her. It was hard to see anything around the storm of limbs, but flashes of panic made their way through to her. Unprepared soldiers hastened to resist the monstrous onslaught; officers shouted orders that blended with the regiment’s fear-filled yells.

  STAY LOW!

  Sounds of musket fire cut through those cries of alarm, and cold lead raked the great ice beasts. However, the yeti were not so easily destroyed, the musket balls cracking their strange flesh, even embedding within their flexible ice muscles, but penetrating no farther.

  Sabira found herself letting out a noise somewhere between terrified scream and rousing battle cry as ice chips showered her and her army accelerated, bellowing in wounded rage. The Ignatians could not escape the mountain’s unstoppable tide of revenge.

  The first of the yeti cannoned into the front line of Ignatians, massive limbs swiping through the crowd. Bodies and blood flew, a score of soldiers snuffed out in a blink. Sabira felt sick at the sight. Images flashed through her head. A burning forest. A whip of glowing metal. A countdown to volleyed musket fire. She dismissed them all and plowed on with her people, the frostsliver screaming out, WE ARE STRONG! ADERAST STANDS!

  The assembled soldiers�
�� discipline broke quickly when faced with creatures twice their size that shrugged off musket blasts. The Ignatians, mostly conscripts, didn’t want to be here, and Sabira had been right—they were not interested in laying down their lives for their country. Not like this.

  Maybe some of the retreat was due to Danlin’s efforts, though she had no way of knowing for sure. Some of the conscripts did find their courage under the threats of their superior officers, forming firing lines. Though chaos reigned all about, the nearest still opened fire, Sabira ducking down in fear of whizzing shot. The rippling blast of the volley rang and echoed, bouncing off the walls in the confines of the cavern.

  Though they were tougher than any other living things Sabira had seen, the yeti were not indestructible. One fell under the mass of fire, shards of ice bursting from it where cracks had become full shears. As it died, its huge, solid shell shrank away, the corrupted connection to the glacier dying with it. The body was almost human by the time it hit the ground, more like a bony ice sculpture of a person than the monstrous thing it had become.

  Another was brought down and was not the last. Frostfire battled with the flickers of orange firelight, but the blue was starting to dim. The Ignatians had numbers on their side, and though this battlefield was too cramped to use them well, it was enough to begin slowly whittling down their foes.

  Sabira couldn’t fight an army on her own, but seeing the yeti die made her want to try. Heart in her mouth, she rushed the nearest Ignatian. He was taking aim at a yeti and not looking at the little girl who couldn’t possibly be as dangerous as the monsters, which proved a mistake when Sabira sliced the barrel of his musket in two with the frostsliver. The soldier staggered back and what was left of the weapon went off in his hands. Thankfully, she didn’t see what that did to him.

  LOOK OUT!

  Sabira only had time to duck and let out a fearful noise as the frostsliver turned from weapon to shield in her hand, intercepting incoming fire.

  Like the yeti’s ice flesh, the musket rounds did not penetrate the frostsliver easily. Cracks spidered across the surface of the ice at the impact, but then the lead shot was pushed out to clink onto the floor. Sabira only let out her breath when the faults began to seal themselves up—though she could feel the frostsliver’s pain, in addition to her body screaming at her.

  FORGE ON—FORGET ME! WE HAVE WORK TO DO.

  She ran, staying low and away from the worst of the fighting. Sabira protected one yeti and then another from fire, each time fearing that the rounds would break through her defenses and rip into her.

  It was only after the third time that she realized their mistake. They had kept yeti alive and fighting, but in doing so they’d moved away from the protection of the main group. With a feral cry something attacked her from the side, her shield barely up in time to block a length of scorching heat. Agony exploded through the bond, followed by her own dread when she saw the source.

  Sergeant Major Lifan stood there, his broken face half grinning, half raging. He gripped the hilt of his branding lash in a white-knuckled fist, the coil of metal blazing hot. He attacked again, shouting something that might have been “witch” as the length of scorching words struck the frostsliver again, knocking Sabira to the ground. The bond screamed in her mind, and Sabira thought she might have too.

  This was different from the musket rounds that had healed so quickly. Sabira could feel the frostsliver’s fear. No wonder—heat was the frostsliver’s enemy, and that lash represented all that both of them feared the most.

  SABIRA … I’M … I CAN’T …

  She could feel the sizzle in the air as the metal whipped into the frostsliver again and again, melting back the living ice and searing pain into both their minds. It was going to kill them.

  Then fire was blotted out by a wall of ice and the roar of an angry brother.

  Sabira stared as the branding lash struck Yeti-Kyran, scoring a line into his skin, though he did not flinch. Lifan whipped him again, snarling, but Yeti-Kyran just turned away from Sabira and charged, massive arms up to defend. He took multiple savage strikes, until his icy body was riddled with burn wounds. Then, to the sergeant major’s terrified screams, the yeti was upon him, batting the branding lash free of his hand and grasping hold of the man.

  With a roar of victory, the yeti tore the man apart. The motion took only a handful of seconds, but when the yeti was done, it was clear that the sergeant major would never hurt anyone again. Sabira had to look away, though not before making a memory that she would rather not keep. One nightmare had been destroyed by a new one.

  Forcing herself to turn to what had once been her brother, Sabira saw a scarred, bloody, damaged creature that could barely stand straight. Its humanity was only a spark, and it was flickering. If she were to count her crimes after this, perhaps turning these wild people of the mountain into warriors might be her worst.

  “Thank you, Kyran,” she said, steadying her emotions. She couldn’t afford to lose control with the sounds of fighting still ringing in the air. Musket fire sounded nearby, and Sabira ran forward, skirting through the battle with Yeti-Kyran at her side, his bulk protecting her from errant gunshots. Her frostsliver took another attack too, and it was only then that she realized how badly injured it was.

  There wasn’t a bit of the shield that wasn’t covered in cracks, and the only communication from the frostsliver was a pulse of pain through the bond. Sabira tried not to fear what that meant and concentrated on finding something, anything, to end this madness quicker. There, over by the wall of stalagmites through which the glacier was oozing into the cavern, a fleck of gold glinted in the firelight. Two, in fact, attached to the shoulders of the man who had done everything in his power to ruin her. He was directing a small but organized band of men against the yeti’s chaotic attacks.

  “Colonel Yupin!” she yelled. Every heartbeat that he was distracted was another that the Ignatians were less well organized against the yeti and another moment that one of them might use to twist his head off.

  The man turned at his name, but no yeti attacked him. His eyes narrowed at the sight of Sabira, the only human Aderasti there. He knew she had done this, she could feel it. It didn’t matter. Nor did it matter that the frostsliver’s injury was leaking through to Sabira, making her heart hammer and stealing her strength. It didn’t matter that her injury felt like it might give way at any moment, nor that the shield had not properly re-formed. She looked to Yeti-Kyran, covered in musket holes and deep lacerations from the branding lash, and knew that this opportunity could not go to waste.

  “With me!” she cried, gesturing toward their enemy and pushing every scrap of emotion through the bond and out to her brother.

  They charged the colonel together, both siblings wounded but determined. Yupin fired his musket into Kyran with a horrid snap of ice, but they didn’t slow. Sabira felt like she was matching her brother’s roar as they smashed into the colonel, sending his spent musket flying and launching the three of them into the stalagmite wall behind.

  The rock teeth cracked and broke under the weight of three bodies—one much heavier than the others—and they all went tumbling through. Yeti-Kyran howled in pain, the colonel shouted in shock, and Sabira fell with them.

  She came through without a scratch, but in that tiny frozen moment held in the air, Sabira saw that there were to be consequences for smashing through a wall of the mountain.

  Mainly, that there was no floor on the other side.

  SABIRA WATCHED EMPTINESS yawning in front of her, thinking her life had ended—before her shoulder impacted on stone, closely followed by her skull. Her ears rang. Dazed, she realized she’d fallen onto a wide ledge that ringed the central opening. From that center erupted the glowing light of the glacier.

  It came from deep below, oozing from the dark in a giant crystalline structure. It wasn’t just a column of rough ice here but a pure, intricate sculpture. It undulated as it rose, forming into symmetrical patterns, like a vast, neve
r-ending snowflake. She got a strange sense of encouragement from it, as if something in it approved of her actions.

  The pit was unfathomable, though Sabira knew that somewhere down there was where the Tears of Aderast formed. Where the Deep Explorers had broken the black stones and saved Aderast from its nightmare, if the story was true. Seeing the wonder of the perfectly formed ice made it easy for Sabira to believe that a god might indeed slumber in the depths.

  She wasn’t going to learn if it was true, though, not today. Not ever. The frostsliver had collapsed back into the shape of a cracked icicle in her hand, the smaller, now-misshapen form apparently less difficult to maintain. Sabira struggled to stand. The frostsliver was in no better condition. Its pain was extreme, but Sabira couldn’t tend to it yet.

  Both Yeti-Kyran and the colonel had landed near Sabira, the man in bad shape, and the beast in worse. Yeti-Kyran was sprawled over the ledge, at risk of sliding into the abyss, one great arm dangling, his ice flesh racked with welts from the branding lash.

  His ice form was beginning to melt away, and Sabira thought that she could see a hint of the Kyran she had said goodbye to six months ago. Even as she watched him transform, he began to slide farther over the edge, too weak to hold himself.

  Rushing to his side, Sabira grasped his other arm and hauled on it, but the yeti was too heavy. The arm barely budged. There was nothing she could do. The massive icy paw uncurled, the broken ash-cat figurine that had been gripped in it falling to the ground.

  “Hold on!” she demanded, but as she looked into her brother’s face, she knew that he could not. He had given everything he had defending her, and Adranna.

  It wasn’t fair. She had just found him again. Tears filled her eyes. She wanted Kyran back. Why couldn’t the mountain give her that, if nothing else?

  “Please,” Sabira whispered, though it was no use.

  She cried out as his arm slipped from her grasp, and his yeti body tumbled over the side. She scrambled forward in time to see his icy form, a flawed, imperfect version of a frostsliver bond, fall into the column of the glacier and ripple right into it. Once again, Sabira had been unable to save him.