Too Cold to Bleed

by D Murray

  “Not a long time, Chief Marshal,” Leilah said in a thin voice, her head lolling a little as the horse plodded onward. “They’ll be crushed in the bay and sunk beneath the advance of hundreds of Cannan ships.”

  “A cheery thought.” Fuck. Fucking bastarding hells. “We’ve reinforcements coming from Terna and Gerloup any day. That will give us an additional twenty thousand.”

  “No. You don’t.” Leilah’s voice was growing weaker. “Blockade. Fought our way through. We lost two dozen ships. Many died for this message to get to you.”

  Subath quickened his pace, noting the dark bloodstain spreading from the side of Leilah’s jacket.

  Leilah slumped forward in the saddle, her clammy face towards Subath. “There’ll be over a hundred thousand at your walls before long.”

  Twenty-Six

  Onwards And Upwards

  The scout’s skull cracked, and blood washed over Ruah’s face. She laughed, revelling in the warmth of it. The scout rose to his feet; warm light speared from the terrible wound, dazzling Ruah. She tried to turn, to shield her eyes, but the bright, warm light followed her.

  Ruah jolted awake, startling Tusk, causing the big dog to growl. Bright sunlight pierced the gap in the snowy wall. Culver was gone. Halpern slept still, his head leaning away from Ruah’s shoulder, weighing him over towards the exit of the snow-hole. Ruah lifted her arm, her shoulder aching, and shoved Halpern over onto his face. “Hal! Wake up.”

  “What?” Halpern choked out the word through his waking shock. He sat himself up straight. “Shit! My neck.” Halpern winced and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Must’ve been leaning like this a while.” His bleary eyes looked about the small space. “Where’s Culver?”

  Ruah looked down at Tusk. The big dog’s tail started to wag, and his mouth fell open in that dog-smile. “Where’s Culver, boy?” Tusk’s head tilted to one side, his mouth shutting. His big eyes flicked to the entrance of the snow-hole. “Go on.” He pushed off Ruah, causing her to grunt, and the dog was off out of the snow-hole.

  “Think he’s out there. Come on.” Ruah shoved herself onto her hands and knees and began shuffling out of the snow-hole. As she moved she felt the familiar fizz of pain coil up her leg and around her lower back. She blinked away the sensation and made her way into the bright light of the morning. She hauled herself onto her feet and looked about at one of the most beautiful sights she had ever seen in her life. The sky was pure blue. It rose from a pale yellowish-blue about the bright snow-capped mountain tops and into progressively darker tones the higher her eyes travelled the sky. As she tilted her head back, wincing as pain flared in her lower back, she saw the moon amidst the dark indigo sky above.

  “Fuck me.” Halpern’s voice sounded to her side as he stood up straight. “It’s like a different world.”

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Ruah felt Tusk brush past her good leg. “Beautiful, isn’t it, boy?” Ruah looked down from the plateau and along the mountainside they had travelled. Snow coated it in a smooth spread of white, broken only occasionally by grey outcrops of rock. Lower down, the snow gave way to grey scars of scree and feathery wedges of woodland. A river running through the valley below sparkled like a belt of diamonds, leading into a broad lake, iced about its edges. Tusk gave a small bark, and Ruah felt his tail thumping against her leg. She followed the dog’s gaze and saw the shape of Culver walking towards her across the snowy plateau. A pair of ravens cawed and flew up behind him, circling up and then dropping down to swoop at him. He swung his sword, fending them off, and turned to offer a smile to Ruah.

  “Morning,” Culver greeted them. He had a bundle of cloth under one arm as he sheathed his sword.

  “Where were you?” Ruah asked, her tone slipping easily into accusation.

  “Getting us some breakfast.” He stepped down beside her and placed the bundle down before flattening a seat in the snow by the entrance to the snow-hole. “Need to make the most of this break in the weather and cover some ground today. You feel up for it?”

  “Aye.” Halpern nodded, sitting himself down across the entrance from Culver.

  “You fine with that, Roo?” Culver pressed.

  She hunkered down, grimacing in pain, and stretched her bad leg out. Tusk’s wet nose rose up into her cheek, followed by his warm, wet tongue. “Aye. Fine with me.”

  Culver smiled. “Good. Now, who wants some lemming?” He unfolded the cloth bundle and lifted off a pile of dried and withered heather branches to reveal a dozen yellow-and-black-haired lemming carcasses. In grisly order, each one was missing its abdomen, but apart from that, was perfectly intact.

  “What in the hells?” Ruah gasped. “What did you do to them?”

  Culver laughed. “Wasn’t me! It was the ravens. They only seem to eat the innards, and then abandon the rest of the carcass. If we can keep an eye out for ravens as we travel, we may have a steady supply of meat.”

  “Dajda.” Halpern laughed. “I’ll go for that.”

  “Good man.” Culver smiled. “Got the dried heather on an outcrop up a ways. We can cook these off. That’ll maybe make breakfast a little more to our tastes.”

  Tusk emitted an odd, strangled groan. Ruah looked down to see the dog staring hard at the lemmings. “Enough for him?” she asked.

  “Of course.” Culver picked up a carcass, causing Tusk’s tail to wag in furious waves back and forth. He tossed it to him. The big dog snapped it from the air and crunched the lemming in half, chewing it around his mouth before swallowing. He crunched down on the second half, and again made short work of it.

  “Think he likes it,” Halpern laughed as he rubbed at his right leg.

  “Here, have another.” Culver tossed one more carcass to the dog, who snatched the airborne lemming.

  “What’s wrong with your leg?” Ruah asked, watching as Halpern rubbed at the limb.

  He stopped the rubbing and folded his arms. “Nothing. Just an itch is all. Pass me the fire steel,” he said to Culver, looking away from Ruah. “I’ll get the fire going.”

  She eyed Halpern a moment as he grabbed the dried heather twigs and worked them into a pile, before teasing out tufts in the kindling and sending sparks into it. I know all too well the way to work pain out of a bad leg. What’ve you done, you stupid boy?

  They stopped and sat atop the hill, eating some more of the cooked lemmings and enjoying the surprising warmth of the late morning sun.

  Tusk bounded gleefully over to where another three of the small furry bodies lay in the snow. He gobbled two down in short order. He mouthed at the third carcass, then picked it up in his mouth and tossed it in the air. He danced around the small body, spraying snow in a sparkling mist as he leapt and crouched around the little body.

  Ruah laughed at the sight of Tusk playing, the sound causing the big dog to look up, his broad pink tongue lolling from the side of his toothy mouth.

  Ahead of where they rested, the mountainside rose in a steep, wide ridge of dark grey stone. The Spire could be seen twisting skyward on the other side of the ridgeline. Culver sat peering at the scene before them. “Reckon I’ve a route through the mountain.” He pointed to the mass before them.

  “Through the mountain.” Ruah turned from watching Tusk play and scowled. “We’re going through the mountain.”

  “Aye.” Culver smiled, keeping his eyes fixed on the great ridge of rock before them. “Look where I’m pointing. Do you see where the snow line skirts the bottom of the cliffs?”

  “Aye.”

  “If you track that to the left and follow the snow, it rises up in a gradual fashion, and you’ll see a dark line in the rock face. That’s a suggestion of passage through the peak and down to the foothills. That’s where the rider said the passage to Hagra Iolach begins. We need to edge off this mountainside, and drop down onto the saddle between where we are now and the ridge. Then we just need to traverse the snow, and cut across to where the passage down is.” Culver looked back and held Ruah’s gaze for a moment. “Reckon
this will be hard on your leg, Roo. You think you’re up to it?”

  Ruah looked at the proposed route. “I’ve managed so far, haven’t I? What other choice have I got? Do you want to carry me down the bloody hill?”

  Culver frowned at her. “I’d really rather not, if I’m being completely honest.”

  “Well, then,” Ruah snapped, her surly tone aggravating her own spiralling mood further. She tilted her head back and let the sun warm her skin. She looked back at Culver, guilt coiling about in her belly like a worm. “Would you mind massaging my leg a little before?” It was about all the apology she could muster.

  Culver smiled at her. “Since you asked so nicely.”

  Ruah lay back on the snow and allowed Culver to go through the now familiar routine, freeing the stubborn knots about her twisted leg and letting fresh blood flow into the muscles, easing her pain. She had tried it herself, but she didn’t know the working of the muscle as well, nor had she his strength.

  When he was done, she sat back up and offered him a crooked smile. “That helps. Thank you.”

  “Clouds coming in. Look a bit dark,” Halpern said, drawing Ruah’s attention. “Over there.” Halpern pointed in the direction they had travelled from.

  Culver looked up from Ruah and grumbled. “Best we’re on the move. If that comes in hard we’ll want to be either in the gully for some shelter, or better still, on the leeward side of that rock face.”

  The snow under Ruah’s right leg shifted beneath the sole of her boot and her leg stretched out away from her body. “Shit!” She’d been using Culver’s sword as an aid to keep her stable, but when she slipped her full weight fell onto her bent left leg. A flash of colour exploded before her eyes, followed by a hot knife-strike of pain all around her leg, around her back, and coiling up her neck to her head. The fire of it pulsed through her head and seemed to core through her eyes for a long moment. She barely felt Halpern’s hand on her shoulder as she choked out thick sobs of pain.

  “Roo! Roo!” Halpern said, his breath on her face.

  Tusk nudged his snout up into Ruah’s chin, tongue lapping at the tears that ran down her cheeks.

  “She all right?” Culver’s voice sounded up the hill.

  “Fine,” Ruah shouted, her whole body trembling with the shocking pain of it. It was the third time she had slipped as they made their way across the snowy saddle towards the passage through the great ridge of rock.

  “The heat of the sun is making the snow less stable,” Culver called back “We need to move on. Quick and careful. We’re almost there. Just another few hundred feet and we’ll be across the saddle.”

  Ruah grabbed Halpern’s hand, and he hauled her to her feet. “Will you be all right?”

  Stupid fucking question. “I’ll be fine.”

  Halpern looked helpless, an awkward look about him.

  “Go on! I’ll be along.” Ruah shooed him away and swallowed her frustration. She lifted her ruined leg and placed it down into Halpern’s footprint, crunching the softening snow beneath her wet boot. Halpern’s cloth wraps about her boot gave her purchase when they were dry, but now they were of little use. The pain tingled around her pelvis as she lifted her right foot and placed it down before her. Culver’s sword bit down on her left-hand side, anchoring her uphill, and she lifted her twisted leg once more. A few hundred feet. May as well be a few hundred miles. Tusk hopped on ahead a few feet, then turned to look at Ruah. The dog’s head snapped downhill. His tail wagged, but he did not look happy. The muscles of his shoulders bunched tight, and he mouthed a silent bark to Ruah. What the hells has got into him–

  A crack sounded below Ruah. She snapped her head to the left, feeling the thread of pain pull from her skull to her lower back. A ragged line appeared in the snow about fifty feet below her. Snow started to slide. Shit.

  “Run!” Culver shouted, facing back towards Ruah.

  The snow below Ruah was sliding away in a white wave, racing down the side of the saddle between the mountains. The snow she was standing on was cracking as the slide gathered pace and demanded it follow. Shitting fuck! Ruah tightened her grip around the hilt of Culver’s sheathed sword and she started to run, or at least hobble at pace and away from the inevitable, hungry draw of the avalanche. The sword point stabbed through the snow into the deeper, harder layer, and her left foot planted down into Halpern’s footprint. Tusk ran on ahead as Ruah slammed down her right foot, then lifted her aching left leg again.

  The pain raged about her body. It raged like it had never done before. The crushing rumble of the sliding wedge of snow roared behind her and beneath her. Dusty clouds of snow swept up and surrounded her like low cloud, but still she ran. Tears streamed from her face as she gritted her teeth and drove home the sword, followed by her left leg, then her right. Again, and again. The cold air burned at her throat and her heart hammered. Blood coursed loud about her ears, in perfect harmony with the drumbeat of bright, hot pain in her head. Breathe. Step. Pain. Pray. The ground about her tremored as she ran. She ran, and then she was free of the cloud of snow dust, and back into the sunlight. The rumble of the avalanche sounded behind her and she stopped, bent over, and gulped in long draughts of air. “What in the suffering hells–” she managed to blurt, before collapsing onto her back and weeping from the fire that engulfed her whole body.

  Twenty-Seven

  Cold Blood, Slow Blood

  The cold had seeped so deep inside Evelyne now, she could scarcely move without feeling its constant numbing ache. The dull pain shrouded her entire body, sharpening and becoming needles driving under her skin. The pain of the cold was part of her now; its touch ran deep. It had been nothing but an endurance in the three days since they had left the wagons and set off to Hagra Iolach by foot. They had been given the extra clothing and boots Evelyne had asked for. She had stuffed the oversized boots with wadded-up strips of her old dress, but still they slipped about, causing painful blisters to form.

  With some blessed relief, the troops had been forbidden from touching the women on the hike through the mountains. Being forbidden to touch was one thing; the near constant harassment and baiting, however, had not stopped. Evelyne walked at the head of her small group, all bound together. The heavy chains linked to the shackles about Evelyne's wrists ran to Selby’s shackles, and from there to Franny. Jo had never returned to the wagon that last night. Evelyne couldn’t recall if she had even seen the poor girl wake again after she’d been returned to the wagon unconscious.

  “Bit of stars coming through,” Selby mumbled through trembling lips a few strides to Evelyne’s rear. “Looks like the clouds’ll break tonight.”

  She could be right. The wind had dropped as the sun had set. For the first time in three days there was no spindrift of snow lifted up from the mountainside and sent jabbing into what little flesh had been left exposed. Evelyne let the scarf fall from where it had been wrapped about her mouth and nose, and stopped still a moment.

  “Keep going!” a hoarse voice sounded from further behind. “I didn’t tell you to stop. Fucking whores.” The voice belonged to a man Evelyne had heard the others call Higgs. He kept close. Too close for Evelyne’s liking. He put his tent up beside theirs at night, sharing it with a younger man whose true name Evelyne had never heard. Higgs had only ever deemed fit to call the lad Knobber. She picked up her soaked feet and, with heavy steps, lifted them and trod on through the snow. No chance of any Slowblood in this.

  After Yara had fled from the wagon that night, Selby and Franny were brought back. Selby sported a fresh split on her lower lip. They were quiet that night, but Evelyne had managed to whisper to them about the need to collect the ingredients to make Slowblood along their journey to Hagra Iolach, should the opportunity arise. She had hoped to at least find some exposed rock as they traversed the hills, but they had steadily climbed on the first day, scaling the snowy side of what appeared to be a glacier in a long line. It appeared for all the world to be a giant black worm slithering its way up the m
ountainside. They dropped along the saddle between the mountains and down the other side, losing only a little altitude. They had made camp on the first night in the snowy bowl of a corrie. There was not a speck of rock exposed anywhere near where Evelyne and her chained friends were placed. The tents were makeshift affairs, made up of the canvas from the wagon, and five short poles lashed together at the top and spread out in a low, wide circle. They had heaped snow up on the outer edges of the canvas to weigh it down, and to keep the wind out. When inside, Higgs had chained them all together at the ankles, as well as the wrists. They huddled in as three, tight as litter-mates so as to make the most of their cloaks and blankets. Even still, they shivered the whole night through, waking early from shallow sleep to a breakfast of water and a handful of old roasted grain.

  The second day saw them traverse the leeward side of a massive buttress of snow-covered rock. It rose above them like a giant anvil, ragged teeth ascending like a devil’s staircase, and flattening out in a plateau along the top. Huge cornices stretched out from the top of the plateau like giant white-capped waves, frozen in the moment before crashing down. What mercy would they bring now, if they were to crash down upon us in a mighty avalanche? Then Evelyne thought of the child that grew within her belly, and she felt it stir. It was the only warmth within her. The wind swirled over the top of the mountainside in eddies of dusty snow, causing it to fall on them with an almost benign indifference. But the chill was not so merciful. Evelyne had watched as several of the chain gangs of townsfolk diminished in numbers. Members of their groups would fall, be dragged to their feet by their guards, and then fall again. After a while, Evelyne would see them fall and not get up. The guardsmen would go through the same mechanical actions each time. They would first haul at them a while, then kick them once, then twice. Finally, to the horror of those watching from the rest of the chain gang, the guardsman would pull free his sword and, holding up the chained wrist of the villager, would strike down, cleaving the arm free of the shackle. Evelyne had passed at least a dozen bodies in the snow, blood pluming from their stumps in a rosette of red. Stark and cruel as it was, Evelyne couldn’t help but see the beauty in it. Maybe I’m going mad. Maybe I’m already mad. She wondered what was to become of the villagers who had been left behind. Would they be shrouded in snow, entombed on these mountainsides as monuments to this war amongst gods? Then she saw what Grunnxe’s soldiers were eating when they made camp that second night, and she wondered no more.