by J. K. Barber
Mistress Mala helped wake a few men, but then made her way straight across camp to the twins’ tent. Her hands shook with cold as she undid the tent ties. The Master Swordswoman had lost a good bit of blood as she raced back to camp and her transformation twice had taxed her, but she had survived worse. Opening the tent flap, the older woman ducked her head inside and spoke a single word.
“Orcs.”
Katya and Sasha were not yet asleep and were on their knees immediately. Jared appeared behind Mala.
“Should we extinguish the candles?” he asked.
“No,” Katya replied, fetching her crystal-tipped staff from next to her bedroll, “in fact, prepare torches to light when they are upon us.”
When Jared looked to the three women with a confused look on his face, Sasha answered his unasked question, while Mala buckled her into her armor.
“They can see in the dark. As long as our troops keep their eyes fixed on the candles, they will retain their sight while blinding the orcs once the torches are lit.” Jared nodded and ran off to spread the instructions amongst the soldiers. Katya opened her pack, and Niko and Chyla climbed out. Noticing Mala’s bandage, the female Nhyme flew to Mala shoulder and touched it gently, beginning to heal the injury. Mala waved her off.
“There will be worse wounds by the end of this battle. Save your strength, little one,” Mala whispered. Chyla nodded and flew back to Niko’s side.
Katya wrapped her face tightly with her scarf and pulled on her heavy fur cloak. The Nhyme bundled themselves as well in tiny fur clothing that they had sewed for themselves along the journey.
“I haven’t seen an ice orc before,” Niko spoke excitedly. “What should I aim for?” he inquired.
“Their eyes,” Mala responded without hesitation. “However, instead of fighting, I would like for both of you to stick close to the girls,” she added, fixing Niko with a meaningful glance.
“Awww, you humans get to have all the fun! I’ll stay close though, I promise. BUT… if an orc gets close enough I’ll claw his eyes out!” Niko laughed. Chyla scowled slightly at Niko’s determination to inflict pain on another.
Mala laughed and said, “Very well, if one gets close enough.”
The Master Swordswoman finished helping Sasha get back into her armor and then backed out of the tent. With just her head still in the enclosure she said, “I will never be far from your side in the skirmish to come, but I must get back to the troops. You know how important a show of leadership is for morale. Stay behind the line. Am I understood?”
The girls nodded and their mentor disappeared. They gathered the rest of their things, including a pre-assembled torch from Sasha’s pack. Turning into ravens, Chyla flew to Katya’s shoulder and Niko to Sasha’s. The girls stepped just outside the tent, leaving their candle lit and ready for Sasha to simply reach in and light her torch.
They all huddled in the dark, watching the final preparations being made in camp. Mala was making sure the men were assembling into their appropriate groups of eight with their assigned lieutenant. The entire camp was laid out in marching formation, a tight square, so the seven battle units were quickly organized. These men would stick together and work with the greater whole to maintain a solid barrier against an attacking force. The last of the troops crouched or lay down in the snow, many with torches in hand by tents lit by candlelight. Jared had made his way back to the twins, squatting down by their side and pulling his curved sword free of its sheath. He nodded a greeting to the two Nhyme, whom he had rarely seen during their entire trip across the Frozen March. They returned his greeting, their voices barely whispers.
Only a short a time had passed before hulking forms began to filter into camp. One lumbering shadow formed on the twins’ tent. As it neared, the foul smell of filth became overwhelming. The orcs were deadly silent though, focusing on the tents and not yet noticing the figures in the snow at their feet. The blue skin of the orc’s calf was only a few inches from Sasha’s nose. The swordswoman held her breath. A clumsy orc on the outskirts of the camp tripped over a soldier, letting out a howl as the woman stabbed him directly in the heart. The howl was taken up by his fellows, a great cacophony of brutish sounds. Mistress Mala, two tents over from the girls, pulled a small thin whistle from inside one of her bracers and blew a single high-pitched note from it. Torches flared to life throughout the camp. Sasha thrust her own torch into the tent and pulled it out aflame. She planted it in the snow butt first, so that she could see and fight without having to hold it. The orc that had been not even a footstep away had a hand up to shield his eyes from the sudden bright light. Jared took the opportunity to place his sword neatly through the straps that comprised an attempt at a leather breastplate and between the orc’s ribs. Standing, Sasha also stabbed the same orc up between his tusks, through his jaw and into its brain. The two had taken too much joy in their first kill, however. A maul bigger than Jared’s leg was descending towards Sasha’s head, only to be blasted back along with its wielder by a streak of white lightning. They looked to their side and Katya stood arms outstretched with her staff gripped tight in her right hand and her left palm open, already preparing another spell. Her gaze was concentrated as she selected another target. She let her spell loose and struck another foe that was sneaking up on Mistress Mala from behind as the swordmistress fought against two orcs in front of her. Both the orcs Katya had felled did not stand back up. The sorceress looked to her sister and the darker twin’s exposed side, where Sasha normally stood in their tight battle pair. Without even realizing it, Sasha had placed herself closer to Jared’s side than her battle partner. Without a second thought, Sasha closed the distance between her and her sister. Holding her sword at the ready, she spoke the warrior-sorcerer oath.
“By sword and spell we are joined. Until death shall part our bond, sisters are we.”
In response, Katya nodded and intoned what Pieter and she had once said on the walls of Snowhaven in its defense.
“Bless this enemy, but may it fall. Eldritch lightning fill my hands, with your touch I shall save my kin.” Katya’s hands crackled with power, her face hard. Jared stared in awe at the two and thought for sure the twins would merge as they did in the catacombs of Aeirsga, yet they did not. The pair, none the less deadly in their usual forms, annihilated a huge ice orc that was about to swing on him in his distraction. Katya cracked him in the ribs with the butt of her glowing staff over the still crouched Jared, and Sasha sliced open his throat. Hot blood poured down on the woodsman and he growled, his inner beast revealing itself. He stood to meet two more orcs and fought deftly, ducking their strikes and dancing about them, leaving them guessing where his strikes would land next.
Niko flew from Sasha’s shoulder and attacked an approaching orc’s eyes, clawing madly. Sasha was then easily able to dispatch him, as he grasped at his ruined face. Katya had a better overall view of the battle, able to stand back from the exchange of blows, especially now that they had dispatched all the enemies in their immediate area. She saw that the orcs caught in camp had all been quickly ambushed. However, the unrelenting ice orcs poured in and were overwhelming the camp. Several men were down, their blood staining the white snow black in the starlight. Mistress Mala had fought her way through six ice orcs and was still pressing forward. The men, inspired by her vigor, redoubled their efforts and managed to regain control of the fight, forming a tight line. Unfortunately, Sasha also noticed her mentor slowing her strokes.
“Let’s advance,” Sasha said, her breathing calm again. She was anxious for more. Jared stood nearby over two orc corpses, waiting to see what the twins would choose to do next. He had promised Mala to stay close to the girls when she could not. He would not fail in that task. Niko had returned to Sasha’s shoulder, and Chyla had not moved. The poor female Nhyme was shaking with cold and fear.
“Mala told us to stay back,” Katya replied, still scanning the fight before them.
Sasha added, “Mala weakens; I see it in her strokes. Her
wound affects her. What will happen to the morale when she falters?” She paused and when Katya did not reply, the swordswoman continued. “You could do your more powerful spells on the front line without harming any of our troops. I have seen the greater magic you are capable of wielding, and you can’t do them from here without harming our men. We can win this fight with your aid.”
Katya nodded. She saw for herself, now that she looked more carefully, that Mala was slowing considerably, her wounded arm almost useless to her now.
“Let us advance then,” the sorceress spoke reluctantly, not sold on the idea but not knowing what else to do. The three Illyanders with the two Nhyme strode forward to the front line, never seeing the small party of orcs stealthily circling in behind them.
Katya walked straight to where Mala fought, the line of men thinning rapidly as the troops were being overwhelmed and slain. When the Master Swordswoman dispatched her current adversary, the twins slipped in front of her, Sasha and Jared protecting both of the sorceress’ flanks. Mistress Mala was about to protest until she saw what it was the sorceress was about to do and stood aside as fast as she could. Katya had clapped her hands together around her staff and began to hum. As she spread her hands, her staff in her right hand and her left palm cupped, a storm of lightning roiled and threatened to escape her grasp. Sweat formed on her brow as she contained it with practiced skill. It built with intensity as she drew her hands apart, the hair on her arms standing on end. The sorceress’ eyes fixed on the ice orcs in front of her, trying unsuccessfully to stab her. Jared and Sasha had her well-defended, batting away weapons and managing to dispatch a few of the attackers. Katya saw her magic’s reflection blooming in an orc’s eyes in front of her, filling the dark orbs with white light. She saw his fear too. He turned suddenly, realizing what was coming, and began trying to push his way back through his companions.
Katya cupped both hands once they were shoulder width apart and then clapped them together, gripping her staff tightly and pointing its tip forward. A wave of lightning forked through the orcs, and at least forty fell to their knees before her as they slumped to the snow. The orcs behind those that had fallen were still hit as the lightning continued in smaller forks through their bodies, but they did not collapse. Katya swayed for a moment, but immediately started to build energy again. The Illyander troops cheered, enjoying a brief reprieve.
Latifah was one of the soldiers near the twins and she stepped back, looking enthusiastically to the residents of Snowhaven. The joy on her face quickly faded, replaced with one of horror. Sasha and Jared, with the aid of Mistress Mala and the regiment of King’s men, were guarding Katya from oncoming forces, not from a rear attack. Chyla, still in her raven form and waiting to assist in any way she could, swiveled her avian head behind them, cawing a warning too late.
The butt of a crude sword cracked the sorceress in the back of the head. She fell forward unconscious, blood soaking her black hair and streaming across her face. Her newly forming spell was released prematurely and the energy shot wildly at friend and foe alike. Chyla fell limp from Katya’s shoulder into the hood of the dark-haired woman’s cloak after being shocked by lightning. Jared and the orc he fought were launched backwards by the force, the woodsman’s cloak smoking as it caught fire. The troops around where he landed threw snow on him to put it out. He did not rise.
Her flank undefended by Jared or her twin, Sasha swung at the ice orc that felled her sister only to be parried and struck in the ribs by the maul of another orc. The swordswoman screamed in pain as she fell to the snow, Niko flying from her shoulder up into the sky. A gag was shoved in Sasha’s mouth as her hands were bound.
Mistress Mala screamed an inhuman cry as she struggled to reach the twins, separated from them by giant blue-skinned forms in their rush to overtake the sorceress. Her body began to change quickly as she took the form of a huge snow leopard. Her skin grew white and black fur, her teeth elongated and her pupils narrowed to slits. Her fingernails curved and hardened into sharp black claws, and a tail burst from the base of her spine. She roared in defiance and began shredding her way through to the girls. The Master Swordswoman bit into the throat of an orc while raking her claws down his body, promptly filleting his chest and belly. Launching off the dying orc, she leapt onto the one that had gagged Sasha and ripped off his arm in one clean bite. It screamed and fell to the ground. Mala had reached the girls and stood over them, roaring her defiance. Sasha, despite being hurt and bound, stared at what used to be her mentor in shock. This woman she had known as a close friend her entire life had been harboring a dire secret all this time.
Many of the King’s troops also stood staring agape at Mala’s transformation, not seeing the orcs from the front advancing rapidly again. The men turned back with the rest of their fellows and engaged, but their organization had already fallen apart as waves of blue-skinned beasts bashed and sliced through them relentlessly. A large number of the regiment was simply killed by the orcs, but others were gagged and bound like Sasha had been. One orc had slung Jared over his shoulder. Mala held off the orcs for as long as she could, but one got a hold of her tail. She spun and bit the orc’s arm, but he held on tightly as if expecting her to do so. Ignoring the pain as her teeth sunk to the bone, the surly ice orc punched her in the nose with its other hand, which allowed a fellow orc to throw a rope around her neck. Dazed, she was pulled down hard to the snow and promptly bound so tightly that soon she couldn’t feel her paws. A spear was thrust through her bonds and held by two orcs so that she dangled from it between them. Sasha and Mala locked horror-filled eyes for a moment as they were hauled away.
Niko circled high above in the starlit night sky and watched as the entire King’s regiment was slaughtered or hauled away. Tears streamed down his black-feathered cheeks only to freeze before falling to the ruined camp below.
Branden stood by the table, looking at the map of Snowhaven and the land around it. Having lived there for years, the smith could easily picture in his mind the places indicated by the various marks and wooden symbols that had been placed on the map by General Frey. Branden looked across the table at his old friend and saw Frey’s furrowed brow. The expression on his face only confirmed what Branden knew to be the truth: Snowhaven was not going to fall easily.
I, myself, helped make it such a tough nut to crack, the King’s Guard thought to himself as he looked at the map. Snowhaven was situated and built to do exactly what it was doing; keep anyone from traveling the pass through the World’s Edge Mountains and into Illyander. Unfortunately, the town was now doing its job in reverse. It was keeping the King’s Army from traveling through the same pass into the Frozen March. Also, unfortunately, the Ice Queen was in possession of Snowhaven and probably readying for a push into Illyander.
Frey still did not know the number of troops the Ice Queen commanded. There had never been a true survey of the lands north of Snowhaven. Some believed there hadn’t been more than a couple hundred ice orcs in all of the Frozen March. However, the attack that had finally captured Snowhaven disproved that theory. Easily a thousand blue-skinned brutes, accompanied by half as many men and supplementary siege equipment had fallen upon the border town like a great wave of destruction and violence. Frey’s scouts further reported that more ice orcs had joined the original invading force, swelling the ranks of those now in Snowhaven to almost twice their number. As for the Ice Queen’s general himself, nothing was known about the man save for his appearance. He had fortified his position in Snowhaven, using the terrain of the surrounding hillsides to his advantage and shored up the southern gates of the town faster than Branden would have thought possible.
It was these same gates to which General Frey now pointed to on the map. “Near as our scouts can tell, they’ve been adding layer after layer of timber to the southern wall and gates. Huge trees cut down and shaped, then driven into the ground.” Cewin Frey ran his hand over his head in a gesture of weariness. “They wouldn’t have had the time to cut down the tre
es, shape them and put them in place. My scouts haven’t seen any logging parties leaving the town, so I can only conclude that they must have had the trees felled and cut ahead of time and then drug to the site.”
Captain Veldrun chimed in. “That means they were planning to conquer Snowhaven for some time and hold it, fortifying their position once they took the town.” The Captain’s words were spoken as a statement and not a question. Branden and everyone there had reached the same conclusion.
“Exactly,” General Frey replied, giving voice to the worry that had gripped the stomachs of all those assembled in the General’s tent and filled them with icy water of fear. “The attack that captured Snowhaven wasn’t the usual unorganized mob of ice orcs trying to take the town for plunder. This was a well-planned and well-arranged strategic strike to win the town as a staging point for a larger invasion later.”
Branden looked around the tent at those assembled and saw the same expressions of fear, worry and shock that he was certain he wore on his own face. Captain Veldrun, dressed in his usual white tabard that hung over a woolen coat, beneath which he wore sturdy chain, scanned the map looking for anything they could use to their advantage. General Frey, wearing a blue and red tabard over plate armor, was perusing the myriad reports that had found their way to his desk. Branden’s old friend wore a grim expression. Standing next to Branden, the smith saw that even Talas looked worried. Over the weeks of their journey north together, Branden had come to depend on the priest’s optimistic view on the outcome of Illyander’s ensuing war with the Empress of Ice. To see Talas look so concerned shook Branden’s confidence more than he would have thought.
