Soldiers of Ice h-7
Page 18
While the gnomes were getting organized, Martine slid to the front to take the opportunity to scan the surface. Kneeling, she slid open the small peephole in the door. Dazzling light burst through the square opening and splayed across the worn floor, reflecting off the golden pine to brighten the entire chamber. A freezirig draft accompanied the sunbeam, as if to mock its warmth.
"Human, get away from there!" Jouka snapped. Mindful she was only a guest, but still curious, Martine started to close the shutter but kept her eye glued to the peephole. Squinting, she strained against the sun-dazzled snow to make out anything clearly. A frosty morning haze hung over the berry canes at the meadow's edge.
Martine could hear Jouka's grumbling grow louder with every passing second, and she was about to give up when she spotted a movement among the canes. "Jouka, look there," she whispered eagerly as she stepped aside. "By that uprooted pine."
The gnome pressed his eye to the slot. "I don't see you mean the big white thing?"
The ranger nodded. Wreesar."
The rasping horn blew again, sounding louder through the opening. Standing next to the distant elemental was a gnoll blowing a curved horn. The winter wind whipped the gnoll's ragged clothes.
"It followed you here!" Jouka accused Martine as Elder Sumalo stepped forward to have a look.
"Not me," Martine said with a shake of her head. "I've never used this entrance. Buri, perhaps."
Jouka grunted, unwilling to divert the blame. "You brought them to this valley," he insisted.
The Harper couldn't deny that. The accusation reminded her of Jazrac's words last night. In solving one problem for the Harpers, she'd created another, and it was just as much her duty to solve this one.
"We should hear what Vreesar has to say," the woman said when Jouka gave no orders to open the gate.
The dour little man snorted. "There is nothing to say. I say we kill it when it comes closer."
Martine's first reaction to the gnome's suggestion was that it would solve the problem, and in the instant when words come before thought, she almost agreed aloud. How
ever, second thoughts followed, and she recoiled at what she had almost done.
"No, Jouka. The woman speaks wisely. We must hear the creature out," Elder Sumalo said disapprovingly. "Heikko, open the door."
The golden-bearded warrior nodded and shot back the massive bolt in its track. Martine, Jouka, and Sumalo fell back among the ranks of gnomes as the gate swung inward, releasing a shower of icy chunks from the bank overhead. The hardened snow shattered on the wooden floor and lay there to crackle underfoot. Warmth fled the hallway, fluttering the long beards of the little warriors braced for attack.
Across the snowfield, the elemental stood hunched and motionless at the edge of the woods. Behind him, in clusters of two or three, Martine saw in the haze the phantoms of Burnt Fur warriors among the brambles and trees. Like the elemental, they did not move.
"People of the dirt!" the elemental croaked in its peculiar buzzing accent. "I am Vreesar, prince of ice and master of the Burnt Fur. Who speakz for the little dirt people?"
Without hesitation, Elder Sumalo stepped from the line of militia advanced to the doorway. "I am Elder Sumalo. I speak for the Vani." The old gnome's normally thin voice penetrated the distance across the clearing with authority.
The elemental's icicled brow flared in the sunlight, and it cocked its head to survey the small figure that faced him. "Su-ma-lo," the creature said with difficulty, shaping the soft syllables with its harsh lips. "Su-ma-lo," it repeated, striding across the snow. "Come out and we will talk."
"Watch for any sign of treachery," the priest said softly to Jouka. The warrior nodded, then motioned several spearmen to the edge of the door where they had a clear view.
The old priest waded through the drifted path to the center of the small field between the warren and the woods, where the elemental already stood. Barely had they met when the elemental pointed toward the entrance. "The female comez, too," it shrilled. Martine realized its icy finger was pointed at her. Jouka eyed her darkly, suspicious of the link between the woman and the fiend.
Unbuckling her sword, Martine joined Sumalo on the frozen meadow. Away from the shelter of the doors, the wind blasted her cheeks and cut through the light clothing she wore.
"Speaker of the Vani, listen to me," Vreesar was saying as Martine approached. "Give me the woman and the stone she haz stolen, and I will leave you in peace. She waz Hakk'z mate, and now she iz mine. She stole the stone from Hakk."
Sumalo stared up at the towering elemental. 'Mere are far more stones in the earth than Vani. I do not know which one you mean."
"The woman knowz! Ask her," Vreesar hissed, voice crackling with frost. The creature squatted down till its angular face was level with the old priest's.
The tired veins on Sumalo's neck traced blue-black lines as the priest tensed. His eyes narrowed, the gnome turned to the Harper. "What does he mean, Martine of Sembia?"
"It was a rock I found on the glacier," the Harper lied. "I don't have it now. Last I saw it was in the chieftain's lodge." Suddenly she was thankful for the cold, for her shivering disguised her trembles of fear.
"Liez! I know it iz the key! That iz why you stole it, human!" The elemental almost reached for her, then restrained itself, perhaps deterred by the line of spear points behind her.
Martine trembled. Damn! The creature knows! I was too obvious. I can't let it get the stone. "I don't have it," she repeated fiercely.
Vreesar changed his tactics. "My slavez say, `People of the dirt hate the Burnt Fur. You must lead uz in war against
them.' But I, Vreesar, do not want war. You do not want war. I give you thiz chance to make peace, Su-ma-lo. Do not be tricked by thiz human. She haz the stone. Give them both to me." The creature's icy face crackled in expectation.
"Me woman is our guest. I will not break the laws of the warren."
"She liez!" Vreesar's razor edges glinted in the sunlight. "She haz stolen the stone. She must be punished!"
"Your law is not our law, creature," Sumalo snapped back, his anger rising with each threat. "We did not start this war. You invaded our valley."
The elemental drew itself up. "We see no totemz, no claim stakez," Vreesar said with a sneer.
"Our homes are our claims," Sumalo replied. "You murdered Elder Hudni! The crimes are yours, not the Vani's." The fiend buzzed in a mockery of laughter, its needled mouth cracking in a perversion of a smile. "When all of you are dead, I will bring my brotherz to amuse themselvez here. No more talk! I kill some of your people. Th en we talk again.*
The elemental turned and strode back toward the woods and the waiting gnolls. At the edge of the forest, it stopped and looked back. "People of the dirt, remember who started thiz war!" With that, the wind embraced the pale creature in a cloak of driven snow, swirling him out of sight.
"Shut the doors," Sumalo rasped as they entered the warren. The puffs of his breath hung like cold charms in the air. Martine held out one arm to help the old gnome along, but he paid her no attention. When they reached the foyer, the others quickly labored to close the broad wooden gates. The doors met with a loud thump, and the bar rattled into place.
Sumalo pointed at the gnomes nearest the door. "Stay here and guard. Three others each guard the cliffside and the east entrances. Vani, arm yourselves and prepare for war!"
Twelve
The rumble of heavy feet sounded through the thick, earth-banked walls of the warren as the Vani hurried to carry out their priest's commands. Farmers and hunters alike sprang to their new duties.
"Harper, wait," Sumalo called, using the same tone of command he used with the gnomes. Martine, Vil, and jazrac slowed until the priest, with Jouka close behind, joined them.
"What was that all about, Harper? What is this stone the creature wants?" The normally understanding priest looked at her sternly, rather like her father the blacksmith had when he caught her playing with the swords he made.
"And do you have the stone?"
With Jazrac there, Martine could hardly avoid the truth.
If she were to deny existence of the stone, the wizard would surely contradict her. "Yes. I lied to Vreesar."
Sumalo's face clenched with anger. "You have the stone it wants? Didn't you hear the creature? It will kill the Vani for your stone, yet you refuse to give it up? You have no right to condemn us, human. Give me this stone, and I will put an end to this thing."
"No… she can't do that," Jazrac said as he stepped forward to support his fellow Harper. He adjusted his cape and planted himself firmly at her side. "If this creature opens the rift, do you think he will go home and leave you alone? No. Instead, more will come, and then what will you do? Can you defeat ten, twenty, a hundred of his kind?"
"So you say we must fight?"
"You already chose that last night," Martine snapped, Sumalo's face reddened and he chose to ignore the illogic of his arguments. "We chose, not you. You are not Vani. You do not have the right to choose for us!"
"Elder Sumalo," Martine snapped back, her patience almost at an end. "You heard the creature talk of its brothers. If it gets the stone, that will be the death of the Vani. As long as we have the stone, the creature fights alone."
"Not alone with the gnolls," Jouka growled.
The woman wheeled on the other gnome. "You're a hunter, Master Jouka. Which way are your odds better? Against one bear or three?"
The gnome swore under his breath. "One," he said reluctantly.
Vil spoke up for the first time. "The Harpers are right." His voice was even and calm, in marked contrast to the growing passions on both sides. "'They have acted badly, but they are right. Now is not the time to argue among ourselves. We must act as one or we will all lose."
Standing as straight as the low hall ceiling allowed him to, Vil stepped between the two groups. "Jouka," the former paladin said in a way that neither cajoled nor dictated, — "we must act now together. What do you recommend?" "Organize a raid," Jouka said, glowering. "Attack them first, before they attack us." Beside him, Sumalo nodded in agreement.
"But your strength is your warren," protested Jazrac. The Vani do not hide in their homes!"
"What do you say, Elder Sumalo?" Vil interrupted before passions once more got out of hand.
"I agree with Jourka. We must attack!" "Martine?"
"I also agree. Let's hit them before they attack us and put a quick end to it."
'Men I think we're in agreement," Vil said, placing his hands on Jouka's and Martine's shoulders. "We will help you in this, Master Jouka, if you will have us."
"Meet us at the east gate, then," Jouka said, his voice somewhat surly. "We'll pick up their trail from there." With the course of action decided, the two groups split. Sumalo and Jouka went to organize their people while the three humans headed for their room. All the way there, Jazrac argued against the wisdom of the raid and his part in it. He wasn't prepared, he didn't have the right spells, they needed more information, he didn't have fighting gear… the litany went on and on until Martine was sure Jazrac was looking for some excuse to back out.
At their room, the wizard, who had nothing to prepare, waited outside while the other two made ready for battle. Working quickly, the pair struggled into what armor each had brought from Vil's cabin. Martine wore a resilient tunic of chain mail, intricately woven by elves under the light of the full moon or so the merchant who had sold it to her claimed. Whatever the circumstances of its creation, the suit had served her well for many years, helped by careful patching and a fine sheen of oil. As she pulled it on, the
metal felt bone cold even through the clothing she wore beneath it Her open helm fit tightly over her fur cap, so she finally opted to set the helmet aside. She missed the light touch of her sword, the one she'd christened Sea Dog, but the weapon she'd borrowed from Vid was solid enough. She still had her bow and quiver, which she slung over her shoulder. "Ready?" she asked finally.
"You can help me with this clasp." Vil grunted. The warrior was almost finished buckling on his battered old breastplate, the final piece of his armor, an unmatched collection of leather, chain, and metal plates. It was an old suit and well matched to the wearer, the armor shaping itself to his body over the years. The big man moved easily in it, and without the sometimes annoying squeaks and creaks of poorly made plate mail. Sword and hanger in arm, he nodded he was ready to go.
In the hall, Jazrac waited. Borrowing one of the old quilts, he had bundled it around himself till his face barely peeked through a small gap at the top. "I still think we need more information," the wizard complained even as they started down the hall.
Just as the three neared the east gate, a fantastic figure, encrusted from head to toe in a suit of iron and jutting spikes, ambled around the corner and almost walked into Martine. The Harper could barely recognize the grim Jouka beneath the bizarre armor. The gnome's black beard was bound with ribbons and tucked around his neck so it didn't snag on the spikes bristling across his breastplate. His armor consisted of three pieces of black iron, jointed at his chest to follow the curvature of his muscles. Shaped iron covered his arms, thighs, and calves.
That alone would have made the armor more than serviceable for war, but Jouka's plates were studded with thick, rusting iron spikes that almost looked as if they had been driven through from the underside so that the sharp points wavered dangerously with every movement of the wearer. The suit was complete nail studded gauntlets, tack-covered arms, even a metal helm, a full skull mask of hammered iron, gingerly tucked under one arm. The helm sported features of smooth anonymity, with barely the trace of a mouth, nose, and chin. The whole thing was marked by the needle-sharp points that projected to an even length about the skull, like some strange cultist's mask.
"What is that?" The question, full of disbelief, exploded unconsciously from Martine's lips.
"This, human, is my badger fighting suit," Jouka said proudly, almost thumping a thorny fist against his spiky chest.
"A what?" She knelt to have a better look.
"My badger fighting suit," came the fierce reply. "Sometimes badgers dig into the warren and we have to kill them."
"In that?"
"It is an old Vani tradition, Martine," Vil answered, coming up behind the pair. "'The Vani corner the badger or wolverine, usually by penning it inside a room.Then one of the warriors goes in and tries to kill it. By custom, the lucky fighter is armed with just a knife and that outfit." The man nodded toward Jouka's armor.
"Lucky?"
"It is a great honor to kill a badger," Jouka huffed. "I have killed two badgers already"
"It's how their men become true warriors," Vil pointed out.
"But why the suit?" Martine asked as she gingerly touched one of the spikes.
"Badgers do not like the spikes, human. It gives the fighter a fair chance."
"A chance? Against a badger?"
Jouka glared up at her as if she had questioned his
manhood. "Have you ever fought a badger, woman? Do not-"
`The Vani call him tukkavaaskivo-`little mean one,' Vil cut in quickly. `The animals are not be trifled with. I've seen a wolverine take on a bear twenty or more times its size and win," the man added.
The gnome nodded sagely. "A bear will run where a badger turns and fights. The Vani fight like badgers, too." Having arrived at the east gate, he cut the conversation short.
In the chill hall, an assemblage of gnomes were gathered into rough-and-ready companies. The militia broke ranks the minute Jouka and the others entered the hall and besieged the spiky gnome with questions, demands, and suggestions. In the cramped chamber, Vil and Jazrac towered over the clustered gnomes packed around them. The little warriors bristled with an assortment of weapons, mostl
y stubby spears. Short swords, their hilt grips well worn with use, hung in the undecorated scabbards of many others. There was a suggestion of armor under the shapeless layers of their dirty white parkas. Armets, pot helms, skullcaps, and other wondrously incongruous headdresses bobbed among them. The air reeked of gnome sweat, oil, and stale beer, the latter no doubt consumed to fortify more than a few before they set out.
With all the voices raised at once, Martine did her best to listen, but the tumult was a blend of shouting so thickly accented that the Harper gave up all hope of understanding.
At last Jouka, who would serve as commander of the raid, restored order. Organized back into their companies, the gnomes stood tensely expectant while Jouka huddled with his chosen captains.
"I didn't think the gnomes had this many warriors," Martine said to Vil. There were about forty of the Vani packed into the little hall. "They don't," Vil said softly. "You can't count most of these fellows as warriors. Most of them are farmers. A few are hunters who know the valley well, but fighters like Jouka are precious few"
The aforesaid gnome, in the middle of his captains, nodded toward the humans. "The humans are welcome, too. Master Vil you know. The woman can use a sword as well." There was a murmur of surprise from some of the more traditional farmers. "The thin one is a wizard… or so he claims."
Martine felt that Jouka's introductions were somewhat strained, as if he were unwilling to admit their skills. However, the gnome added finally, "They know how to fight, brothers, and every sword will help us. They will travel with me. That way they cannot get lost." A weak chuckle rose at their expense from the gnomes.
"Elder Sumalo is no longer as young as he once was," Jouka continued, "so we will have no priest. If your brothers are hurt, you will have to bring them back to the warren for healing. Sumalo will be ready for you. My brother, Turi, and the human wizard are our only magi."