Coldmarch

by Daniel A. Cohen

  ‘How did you know him?’ I asked again, my voice trembling.

  Split clapped his hands furiously to get my attention, pointing across the Singe. ‘We need to go, Spout! If this thing found a way across, the other bastards will too!’

  ‘I’m not with the Hookmen,’ the Hookman said in serious tones. ‘I abandoned them when I heard. Hamman is gone.’

  Shilah came up to my other side, pressing against me. ‘What do you want to do?’

  The Hookman held the blade steady at his chest, the tip finally drawing blood through the beige cloth. ‘I’ve been a loyal servant and I have done everything asked of me without question. I was his sickle for the chaff.’ Tears formed in the corners of the Hookman’s eyes, emotions welling up thick and wet. He pointed with his thumb across the Singe. ‘In my duties I have learned many secrets of the Jadan people. And then I heard your name and what you possessed. No one else believed, but I believed. I told my kin I would wait on this side of the Singe to kill you in case you found a way to cross, by bridge or boat, but that was not really the case. I believed you would cross by your own hand. Hamman wanted to kill you, but Hamman is gone, and I know the truth. “The Child shall part the rivers and make the shores cry with life.” I wish to watch you rebuild the world, Meshua, to protect you from all harm, but if it is my time to die, I shall gladly—’

  ‘Did you say Meshua?’ Split shouted. I could practically hear the blood boiling beneath his words. ‘Did you just Sun damn use that word, you piece of shit? You murderer of children. You call my little girl chaff and just—’

  ‘QUIET!’ I shouted, trying to get everyone to shut up for a moment so I could think. ‘You.’ I pointed at the Hookman. ‘Take the blade from your heart right no—’

  Before I could even finish my sentence, the blade was thrust into the sands next to the other weapon. The Hookman nodded, looking at me as if begging for another command. ‘By your word.’

  ‘You.’ I pointed to Split. ‘Listen. If Hamman here wanted to kill us—’

  ‘I am not Hamman. Hamman is gone,’ the Hookman said, and then put his head down. ‘My apologies for interrupting. I am Unworthy.’

  ‘Okay, well, if whoever he is wanted to kill us, he would have done so,’ I said. ‘Just calm down for a moment so I can figure this out.’

  I could hear the echoes of the Vicaress’s screams from across the Singe and upstream, her wild shouting for Hamman to kill us immediately.

  The Hookman continued to kneel.

  ‘Calm down?’ Split seethed, his fists clenched tightly and his face completely red. The rage was making him shake so much I wondered whether his nose was going to get another crook. ‘You don’t know these creatures, Spout. You don’t know what they’re capable of. They are liars and killers and—’

  ‘I understand,’ I said, pressing my palm against the Icy bronze in the bag, trying to draw strength from the machine. ‘But this man is Jadan, which means he is family.’

  ‘He’s a Hookman,’ Split said from beneath clenched teeth. ‘He’s not your family! And if he says he’ll do what you command, then command him to slit his throat twice and let’s be done with it.’

  I took a tentative step towards the Hookman, which I knew was dangerous, but it also put me in grabbing range of the blades. In case this was all some sort of ploy I would soon need a weapon. Glancing at the incision his curved blade made in the land gave me pause, however, as I doubted even Slab Hagan was strong enough to wrench this weapon free.

  I took a deep breath. I was not in any way prepared to deal with a situation like this. Abb was always the one with the wisdom. I had no experience leading. I had only ever wanted to tinker with things, not people.

  ‘Tell me who you are,’ I said. ‘And why I could possibly trust what you say.’

  The Hookman nodded. ‘I was called Hamman. I was a Hookman in the service of your father, the World Crier.’ He pointed to the scars on his arms and chest and legs. ‘The best Hookman in the Khatdom. I gave myself one scar for every Jadan I had to send away.’ He pointed to his cheek. ‘The final scar is for Hamman. Now I shall only ever do your bidding, Meshua, and my name shall henceforth be whatever you desire. I am yours to—’

  ‘Stop saying Meshua,’ Split said, furiously scratching at his thigh. ‘You don’t get to use that word. Hookmen don’t get to Sun-damn believe in a saviour!’

  Hamman nodded, keeping his eyes on me. ‘I will make it so the Vicaress cannot hunt you. I know how the Hookmen track. I know how the hounds smell. I will protect you with my life. You and all of your companions.’

  Shilah stepped forwards. ‘What makes you think Spout is this “Meshua”?’

  Hamman looked confused. ‘Meshua shall part the rivers and make the shores cry with life. I saw it with my own eyes.’

  ‘It wasn’t just him.’ Shilah gathered herself as straight as possible. ‘More than one of us made the Ice.’

  I gave Shilah a stern look. ‘I agree, but now’s not the time.’ Then I turned back to the Hookman. ‘Okay, well, I’m just going to call you Hamman for now—’

  ‘Hamman. Is. Gone.’ Tears followed the Hookman’s words, his face all sorrow. ‘Apology for interrupting. I am Unworthy.’

  Picka grumbled, shaking the fur around her neck and looking longingly back at the Ice raft, which still clung to the shore by a few crystal threads.

  The Vicaress kept shouting from across the waters. The other Hookmen had disappeared from the shoreline, leaving tracks back into the sands. They’d find a way to cross the Singe and descend upon us soon, and I had to make a decision.

  ‘Fine.’ I looked the Hookman over and did a quick assessment. ‘If you don’t like Hamman, what do I call you?’

  Hamman gave a dramatic nod. ‘Whatever you wish. May I be reborn by your word.’

  ‘Okay, fine.’ I shrugged, so far out of my depth that I decided just to lean into the madness. ‘What was your father’s name?’

  Hamman’s whole body stiffened and I could tell it was a sore subject.

  ‘Never mind,’ I said quickly, trying to drown out the Vicaress’s frantic orders echoing from across the waters. ‘How about …’

  ‘Dammit we don’t have time for this!’ Split shouted, trying to yank a reluctant Picka away from the shoreline. ‘Don’t speak to a Hookman like it’s a person, Spout!’

  I turned on Split with a snarl. ‘Never call a Jadan “it”.’

  The Pedlar’s jaw tensed, but he eventually nodded in agreement.

  I kneeled down and tried to meet the Hookman’s sorrowful eyes. ‘Are you really going to protect us from the others?’

  The Hookman gave a single nod. ‘I’d stand in front of Sun himself to keep you alive.’

  I put a hand on his shoulder, recognizing pain when I saw it. ‘Considering everyone calls me Spout because I sweat, you can be … Dunes.’

  His face tilted up. ‘They don’t call you by your real name?’

  ‘Why Dunes?’ Shilah asked.

  I felt my cheeks grow a bit warm, embarrassed. ‘I don’t know, because that’s where he left Hamman behind.’

  The Hookman’s face broke with fervour and awe, which looked all the more eerie because of the blood raining down his cheek. ‘Dunes. Yes. Thank you.’

  Split’s fists were clenched. ‘The dunes can also suck you in and suffocate you. Spout, you can’t trust this—’

  I glared the Pedlar silent.

  ‘This man is Jadan,’ I said. ‘Whatever his past, he’s still family.’ I turned to our kneeling guard. ‘You said you know how we’re being tracked?’

  Dunes went to stand, but I made a halting gesture and he remained on his knee.

  ‘I do,’ the Hookman said, showing us his empty hands and then slowly reaching under his shirt. ‘And this can—’

  ‘Watch it!’ Cam said, his body jerking as if it was trying to decide whether or not to flee.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I said. ‘Show us.’

  The Hookman took out a few vials filled wit
h a viscous substance that I recognized. ‘Gales breath. To make you invisible to the hounds’ noses.’

  I nodded, hope springing into my chest. ‘And you can find us somewhere safe to hide?’

  ‘I can and will.’ The Hookman pointed to the side of his head. ‘The Hookmen get her close and the hounds track you from there. I can give you their secrets, if only you wish, Mesh—’ His eyes darted to Split, who was already tensed up waiting to go off on the utterance of the name. ‘Micah.’

  ‘You know my real name?’ I asked carefully.

  ‘Of course.’ The Hookman nodded, the tears and blood continuing to spill over his cheeks, one side of his face entirely wet and red. ‘That and so much more. The Hookmen are told everything about—’

  ‘Hold on, Spout!’ Split nearly doubled over, his body jolting, looking at me through a steady stream of blinking. ‘Your real name is Micah?’

  I paused. ‘It is. Sorry, at first we thought it best if—’

  ‘Micah!’ he shouted, throwing his arms wide.

  Picka whinnied, shaking her head and clopping her feet.

  Shilah shrugged. ‘It doesn’t really matter now.’

  Split was staring back at the Ice raft, laughter bubbling into his words. ‘His name is Micah!’

  ‘Your companion didn’t know your name?’ the Hookman asked quietly.

  ‘We were keeping as much as we could secret,’ I said. ‘But now we know he’s trustworthy. He’s been leading us on the Coldmarch.’

  Cam groaned, pulling at a tuft of his disarrayed hair.

  ‘Oh.’ I felt my stomach tighten. ‘Well, it was obvious that’s what we were doing anyway.’

  The Hookman nodded. ‘Langria. Yes. And the Hookmen figured that too. But, I will help you get there without them seeing. I will protect you.’

  Split dropped to his knees at the shoreline, his laughter spilling into sobs. ‘Micah. His name is Micah.’

  Forehead furrowing with confusion, I reached into the Coldmaker bag and pulled out the little blue book that I’d found in Split’s chamber. I kneeled down next to the Pedlar at the shoreline, holding out the old volume in shaking hands.

  ‘Why did you have a book with my name on it?’ I asked.

  Split’s gaze went from the Ice to the ancient tome. The next mix of chuckle and sob came with a large bubble of spit.

  ‘Of course you took that,’ Split said, wiping the moisture away and then giving his temple a severe rubbing. ‘It’s too real. I need more— It’s all too real.’

  ‘What is that?’ Shilah said, appearing at my side.

  ‘The Book of the March,’ Split answered with an uncomfortable air of giddiness. ‘All the secrets. All the prophecies.’

  ‘I saw it in your chamber,’ I said with a shrug, careful not to turn my back completely to Dunes. ‘And since it was called Micah, and I was curious, I borrowed it.’

  ‘It doesn’t say Micah,’ Split said, laugh-sobbing again.

  I raised an eyebrow, touching the white letters painted on the spine.

  The Pedlar shook his head, a sad smile on his face as the last few chuckles fizzled from his stomach. ‘It’s Ancient Jadan. All of us Shepherds are required to know it. You see the tail on the I? That softens the vowel to “eh”. And the curly little extension on the C? It softens it to “shu”. It doesn’t say my-cuh, It says—’

  ‘M-eh-shu-ah,’ Cam said, sounding it out.

  ‘Meshua,’ Shilah said, her eyes wide with astonishment.

  ‘Meshua,’ Dunes said in a definitive manner from behind us, somehow bowing further from the one knee.

  ‘Oh,’ I said, feeling woozy.

  All sorts of memories and emotions and feelings flooded my mind at once.

  My whole life was upturned in a single moment.

  My name.

  Had such a secret really been hiding in front of me all along? Had my father known the significance? He must have, considering everything he’d done and said. The lessons he’d tried to teach me. And had Leroi known the truth? Is that why he took me in to be his assistant when all he wanted was to be left alone?

  I dropped the book.

  Above me the Sun had finally receded behind the horizon, the first of the night stars winking into the sky.

  ‘Meh-shu-ah,’ I said, wiping the sweat from my forehead.

  Cam looked at me with new-found awe. ‘Shivers and Frosts! You really are him, Spout.’

  Shilah went over to her knife and strapped it back to her leg.

  ‘Split,’ I said, trying not to look at Shilah. I was becoming so overwhelmed I worried I might black out. ‘Can we— how do— we need to go North.’

  Split had gone back to scratching at his thigh, the cloth having ripped in the places his fingernails continued to scrape. The poor Shepherd looked beaten, burned, and arguably more tired than the rest of us.

  ‘There’s a few stops along the way to the City of David’s Fall. I don’t know if there are Shepherds left, but if so …’ Split sniffed, not meeting my eyes. ‘I’m not sure how they’re going to feel about your timing. Eight hundred years is a bit later than desired.’

  ‘Apologies for the interruption,’ Dunes said. ‘But there’s a caravan of captured Jadans headed for the City of David’s Fall as we speak. And it’s not far from here. I can get you and your companions on.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ I asked, my vision fuzzy.

  Dunes’s eyes went glassy, and he let his head drop further.

  ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘I see.’

  ‘You caught some of them yourself,’ Shilah said, acid in her voice. ‘Those slaves, with the same blood as you.’

  Dunes pulled aside his shirt and revealed some fresh cuts along his shoulder, three angry red lines, swelling and tallied up. ‘I didn’t catch any. That was Hamman.’

  Shilah went to open her mouth, but I cut her off.

  ‘Easy,’ I told Shilah. ‘We’ve all been made to betray our kind. He’s as much a slave as the rest of us.’

  Shilah’s eyes went to the blue tome, her fists clenching as she nodded.

  ‘Split, are you okay with this plan?’ I asked, turning away from the Hookman’s mutilated skin. ‘You’re the Shepherd.’

  Split tensed up, still staring at the Ice. ‘Not if Hamman is coming with us.’

  ‘Hamman is gone,’ Dunes said, the corners of his eyes having once again grown wet. ‘The Crier has finally released me.’

  ‘Split,’ Cam said gently, stepping over to him. ‘The real Hookmen are coming for us. And as the only other Noble here, I know that—’

  Split whisked around, hitting Cam with a look that made the Singe seem gentle and loving in comparison. The little hair the Pedlar had on his head was askew in every direction, and his beady eyes looked hard, and heavy enough to sink to the centre of the world. ‘What do you know, boy?’

  Cam backed off, holding up his hands defensively.

  Dunes rose to his feet, ripping the hooked blade out of the ground in one quick swoop. I almost stumbled backwards from the power of it all, the ease with which he defeated the grip of sand and stone.

  ‘Do not fear,’ Dunes said, a bloody droplet falling from his cheek. ‘I will lead you to the caravan, but I will not be coming with you.’

  ‘Why not?’ I asked, worried for a moment that this had all been a lie.

  The Hookman pointed his blade across the river to where the other Hookmen had been standing just moments before. The muscles in his shoulder tensed and bulged. ‘First, I will be dealing with them.’

  PART TWO

  Chapter Fifteen

  ‘You always knew, didn’t you?’ I asked, gesturing for the Cold. ‘The word was in the prayer you gave me for my birthday.’

  Abb gently cupped the Shiver with his hands, halting the flow of our game. Somehow I knew it was the Shiver I had found in the rubbish pile so long ago. The same one that Shilah saw me put back because I was too afraid of the possibilities it represented. I was much younger back then.

  A
bb slid the Cold on the slick surface in front of his crossed legs, admiring how smoothly the sphere moved. We were sitting a few paces apart on our Ice raft, the whole thing floating through the night sky, but neither of us seemed afraid of falling. Everything was calm and right and surprisingly warm.

  ‘Send it back already!’ I said with a laugh, gesturing again for the Shiver. ‘Greedy greedy.’

  Abb smirked, looking up. ‘You scold for rolled Cold? How bold.’

  I groaned, rolling my eyes. ‘Terrible. How long were you thinking up that one, Dad?’

  He finally pushed the Shiver back my way, gently closing the gap. The perfect ball reflected the light around us, casting bright veins into the Ice.

  ‘Forever,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Never. Time is mostly for the living anyway.’

  I looked at the night sky around us, threads of darkness stretching for an eternal distance. But there was no despair to be found – if anything, there was only abounding joy. Because in between the patches of black were infinite pieces of Cold, countless beads of hope, all lit up and shining and banishing the dark with movements like music. They swirled and tumbled, laughing into the notches of night, moving in patterns that I could appreciate but never hope to understand. Together they made stars. I could almost feel a bigger hand at play, rolling them about. Wisps, Drafts, Shivers, Chills, Frosts. It didn’t matter the size or potency. They all had their own song. They all sang together. They made the heavens dance and cry.

  ‘Of course I knew,’ Abb whispered. ‘I’m very smart.’

  I caught the Shiver, feeling tingles against my fingers. ‘So why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I told you almost every story I know,’ he said, clucking his tongue. ‘Greedy greedy.’

  I laughed, rolling the Shiver back towards him. ‘You can’t take anything seriously, can you?’

  Abb snapped his fingers, and the Shiver disappeared from the Ice between us.

  I shot him a stern look.

  He chuckled as he snapped again. A Shiver bounded out of the sky and kissed the Ice in front of my feet. It was the same one that had just gone away.