Soldiers of Ice h-7

by David Cook

  There was no rush into the gaping breach. The gnolls were apparently unwilling to charge lest their chieftain launch another strike. That delay was all the Vani had going for them. Reaching out, the woman seized dazed Jouka by the collar and dragged him from the center of the floor. "Get them out of here! We can't hold out any longer"

  Jouka didn't argue. Instead, he merely nodded weakly. "Fall back!" he gasped, shoving nearby warriors toward the inner door. They required no further urging.

  A strong hand grabbed Martine's shoulder and hoisted her up. "Thank Torm, you're alive!" Vil breathed huskily. "I fear the warren is lost." He pulled her toward the temporary safety of the inner hall, for they both knew the respite granted by the gnolls would not last.

  "We can still defeat them," Martine objected. They were the last two through the inner gates. The doors quickly closed behind them. Tables and benches were braced against the doors-anything that could absorb the brunt of Vreesar's icy blasts.

  "At what cost, Harper? There are women and children here." A Vani scream from the outer chamber, drawn out and agonizing riveted everyone's attention. The gnolls were celebrating their victory. At least it will buy us more time, Martine noted grimly.

  "Would you sacrifice them, too?" Vil demanded, speaking not only to the woman but also to Jouka, whose face was set hard. "It's time to evacuate the warren."

  "This is our home! This dirt is in our blood," Jouka snarled contemptuously. "We will not run. Maybe you would be chased out of your home and idly watch it burn, human, but we make our stand here." Jouka looked fiercely to his fellows for support, but instead of a passionate band of warriors, he saw a handful of tired and frightened family men who held no false illusions of honor. The dwindling screams from beyond their sight reminded all of the fate that might be in store for their wives and children.

  "Jouka, the human is right," Elder Sumalo gasped. The priest had been wounded in the first blast and now lay on a litter, bloody blankets bound around his side. "We cannot stand against their magic. Every door we close will be blasted like the first. We must think of our families."

  "Where will we go, Elder Sumalo? If we leave the warren, we'll freeze," Jouka protested. "It's all the fault of this human-her and her plan."

  "Who is at fault is not the issue, Jouka. Survival is," Martine countered. "Look, we can hole up at Vil's cabin."

  "Unfortunately it lies that way." Vil pointed toward the doors leading to the east gate. "We'll never make it from another gate in this storm."

  Martine sagged against the wall. She just wanted to give up. Why had Jazrac even offered her…

  "Jazrac! Gods, I forgot about him completely. He hasn't left yet!" The Harper's face brightened, and she turned to Sumalo and Jouka with renewed hope. "Gather the women and children in one of these rooms on the eastern side. Make sure they're well away from the fighting and send someone to have the wizard join them. He can get us out." `The wizard is useless." Jouka spat contemptuously. "He's our only chance."

  A loud thud sounded against the doors, and everyone glanced at them nervously. "Gather everyone at the granary," Jouka said stiffly as he relented reluctantly. When the inner door shattered under two ringing blasts from Vreesar, the gnolls charged into an empty chamber. Confused, the warriors ripped through the meager furnishings of the hall, howling in triumph. They were certain of victory. The gnolls broke into hunting packs and scattered down the empty halls.

  "Now!" Vil cried out as the marauders cleared the first corner. The passage echoed with the sharp twang of crossbows fired by the small cadre of Vani accompanying him A loud shriek proved at least one quarrel had struck home, but Vil didn't wait to see. "To the next position-go!" he bellowed. The gnomes sprang from their hiding places and ran down the hall, past where Martine lurked with another small band of warriors.

  After several minutes, the gnolls reappeared cautiously, peering around the corner. "Hold your fire," the Harper hissed. The Vani next to her trembled slightly. The head disappeared, and then a single gnoll slowly stepped forward, nervous and wary. Martine waited as he advanced two cautious steps forward. "Fi she shouted. The gnoll shrieked and slumped to the floor. "Back, everyone!" she barked as the gnomes pulled out quickly. They had barely reached Vil's new position around the next corner when a handful of magical ice hurtled down the passage and burst in a small explosion right where they had been.

  "Be careful, Vil. Vreesar's up there somewhere," Martine said softly.

  "You too, Martine," he said with unmistakable concern. "You sure you don't need help?"

  "Krote's only one gnoll. You'll need every available gnome. Don't worry about me."

  "I'm-I'm only afraid I'll never see you again," the big man said awkwardly.

  "They're coming, Master Vilheim!" the Vani lookout cried.

  "Go, Martine-and let the blessed gods go with you." The former paladin turned his back to her as if he welcomed the interruption, so Martine left him to his command, feeling touched by the man's sudden concern.

  Martine limped through the dim halls, wary because of the chance the gnolls might break through the defenders. The distant noise of battle mingled with fainter sounds-a baby crying, a confused murmur of voices. The normally warm warren was cold, the warmth lost to the night air through shattered doors.

  At last she reached Krote's pen, and she gave small thanks to Tymora. She had secretly feared that one of the Vani-Jouka, perhaps-might have taken it upon himself to rid the valley of one more gnoll, but that apparently had not happened.

  "Word-Maker!" she called into the pen. "Come out here."

  The mound of matted straw at the back stirred, and a pair of feral eyes glinted in the dim light. "My brothers come. Is true, human?"

  The woman undid the lock and quickly stepped back, her sward held ready. The lanky gnoll eased slowly from the pen, stiffly unworking his cramped joints, even though the ceiling was too low for the seven-foot tall shaman to stand straight.

  Martine motioned him to start down the passage. "I don't want to kill you, Ward-Maker, but I will if 1 you force me to. Do I have your word you won't attack?" The question was almost a demand.

  Krote stopped his canine stretching to look at the Harper and then ask with silken cynicism, "Why should I believe your words? You said you would free me."

  "I will." -Why?

  Martine tossed back her stringy, short hair. "Because you're the Word-Maker and you believe in your wordsdon't you?"

  Krote stood silent, ears twitching to the echoes that rolled down the corridor. "I give you my word, human. I will not attack. My people will kill me anyway."

  "Good enough. Now go-quickly."

  They hurried down the corridor, gradually increasing their speed to an easy lope. They moved through the dark passages toward the nervous din of the Vani. The hallways were deserted, not surprising considering the battle that raged through the underground halls, but it felt strange nonetheless.

  Finally they reached the granary Jouka had chosen The last of the refugees were just arriving. The way quickly became jammed with cloaked older Vani women, young wives cradling their newborns in swaddling, and children clinging to their mothers' skirts. The council elders, too old to fight but carrying canes and swords, were directing the last preparations for escape, urging families to hurry as they finished bundling packs of food and blankets: Hostile eyes followed the gnoll, an enemy in their midst.

  "Martine!" a deep bass rumbled from the hallway. It was Vii, with the last of the rear guard, sprinting down the hall. The gnomes of his command slipped into the room and immediately struggled to slip into the few remaining supply packs already prepared, all the while keeping an eye on the corridor.

  "Now what?" Vil asked.

  "We hope Jazrac can cast the spells needed to get us out of here."

  "You don't know?" Vil's face suddenly creased with concern. "I thought you had this planned."

  "Almost. We just need a little luck." With that, the Harper pushed her way through the crowd, peering
over their heads for Jazrac's tall form. At last she found him, looking somewhat confused.

  Martine was shocked to see the normally resplendent wizard, a man who valued immaculate grooming as much as his spells, looking so haggard. His lean face sagged; his eyes made hollow depressions underscored by gray bags. Even the carefully groomed goatee that Jazrac could almost use like another finger jutted soullessly downward.

  "Jazrac, over here!" She raised her hand high above the milling crowd. The wizard stumbled over to where she stood near the outside wall. He'd clearly slept no more than she had, though he lacked the energy the surge of battle had renewed in her.

  "What are we doing here? Shouldn't we be doing something?" the wizard asked in confusion.

  "We are. I have an important question to ask you. When you sneaked back into our room after the raid, you used a spell, right?"

  Pain crossed the wizard's face. "Yes… a passwall spell." "Can you cast it right here and now?" The Harper pointed toward the nearby outside wall.

  "As a matter of fact, I have memorized it again. But why-"

  "Just do it! We don't have time to talk," Martine blurted with relief. "Just open a passage to the outside and get these people out of here!" _

  The wizard's worn expression brightened slightly. "I am, as you have reminded me, a senior Harper."

  "Jazrac, you don't have to playact for me."

  "Perhaps I can atone, if only in part, for past sins… Please stand back, everyone."

  As Martine helped to clear a space around the wizard, Jazrac straightened his clothing. Then, his hands stroking the wall, the wizard uttered a series of garbled phrases. As he spoke, the wooden wall seemed to evaporate like water Then the dirt, and finally a layer of snow, all faded into nothing. A hallway, broad by gnome standards, had been cat straight through the hillside. The howl of wind and a blast of cold air proved it was not an illusion.

  "It won't stay open for long," the wizard said urgently. "Jouka! Vil!" Martine shouted. "Guide everyone to the cabin."

  With a calmness bred by fear, the gnomes formed into lines and hurriedly filed through the magical passage toward the storm that raged outside.

  Sixteen

  The granary was empty except for Martine, Jazrac, and a handful of Vani who had volunteered to cover the retreat. They'd already barred the door with barrels of supplies and bags of flour. Martine knew the barrier couldn't hold up to Vreesar's icy blasts, but she had no doubt it would slow down the Burnt Fur. At their backs, snow blew into the room through Jazrac's magical passageway.

  "Get going, Jazrac. Use your ring to go and get more help," Martine said once she was satisfied that everyone else was gone. "We'll cover you."

  "I'm staying with you."

  Martine grimaced. "Look, this could get bloody. I don't need any fake heroics now. Besides, we need you to go back to Shadowdale and get help dealing with Vreesar."

  "That can wait. Vreesar is here right now, and I don't think he'll leave until he's done with us all. Like you, my dear, I choose my troubles," Jazrac said with his old confi

  dence. "I'm not running away this time. You need me." He pushed her up the magical passage. "If we don't get moving now, we'll all be trapped."

  Martine threw her hands up in despair. "Fine. Play hero then." She turned to face the Vani. "It's time to leave, everybody!" The gnomes quickly scurried up the hall Jazrac had parted through the hillside:

  As the wizard followed the little warriors, Martine said, "I appreciate your offer, Jazrac, but do me a favor. Be careful out there."

  Jazrac struck an attitude of mock pride, with one hand pressed to his chest. "Me? I shall be in no danger, my dear. I am still quite capable of taking on a few ignorant gnolls."

  Martine had to smile at the wizard's display of confidence. "Just don't get carried away-for old friendship's sake, okay?"

  "For… old friendship's sake." 'Me wizard savored the words like a Chessentian wine merchant before giving his grandest bow and departing. Martine wistfully watched him go up the passage: She was surprised to realize she still felt some respect for the man. After one last check of the storeroom, she, too, hurried up the passage.

  Jazrac's spell had opened a route cleanly through to the outside, where the storm still raged, its fury unabated. The trampled path of the refugees was already half drifted over. Martine paused.

  "Do we follow the others?" shouted Ojakangas, her second-in-command, pointing to the trail.

  Martine shook her head. "Not yet. 'There's a rope in my pack. Get it out." She stooped to allow Ojakangas to reach inside and draw out the looped coils. Taking the rope, the ranger passed the length along to each warrior. "Hang on to it," she said, "so you don't get lost." With that, she drew her sword, ready for the fight she knew would come.

  "I'll go ahead. When you feel a pull, follow me and stay close!" Without wasting any more precious seconds, she plunged into storm, feeding out line as she went.

  Without skis, the Harper blundered through the snow, stumbling in the footprints made by those who had passed through previously. At last she reached the end of the rope and tugged to signal the others forward. After several minutes, the rest of the rear guard had all joined her. "Any sign of the gnolls?" she asked Ojakangas.

  "None."

  "The gods must still like us a little bit," the Harper said with a frozen grin.

  "Indeed. Thanks be to the Great Crafter," answered the black-bearded Vani.

  Three times the group repeated the procedure. Each time, Ojakangas reported no sign of pursuit. Then the storm stopped with eerie suddenness. At first Martine thought she had finally reached the blizzard's edge, but that wasn't it The storm had simply stopped.

  "Our escape has been discovered!" Martine called to those behind her. "Come here and find cover!" The gnomes lumbered through the snow to join her. As each arrived, she silently pointed out a position to keep watch. Jazrac she kept close at hand. If the wizard didn't break again, his spells were her best asset.

  "When this is over, you get yourself back to Shadowdale. Understand?" It was simply too much risk having the wizard out here fighting. They needed him to bring reinforcements.

  Jazrac held up his hands. "Don't worry. I have no desire to do this more than once."

  Hiss… thunk! An arrow tore at the sleeve of Martine's parka, spiraling madly into the thick trunk behind her. There it hummed angrily as the shaft quivered in the wood.

  "Down!" she shouted, throwing her shoulder into her companion's side. She acted instinctively, with no thought

  of the man's dignity. The pair flopped ludicrously into the snow.

  "What in the hells-"

  Hiss! Hiss! Several more shafts whipped overhead, right where they had been standing. One struck the same tree with a solid thwack, while the others clattered off into the branches beyond. A gout of snow kicked up as another arrow tunneled into the snowbank beside them.

  In a twinkling, Martine tumbled off to one side. She saw Jazrac roll the other way, not a moment before the icy ground was churned by a fusillade of arrows. No more than twenty yards distant knelt three lanky gnolls, already drawing a bead on her.

  Eschewing caution, the warrior woman sprang to her feet and charged the doglike archers, high-stepping through the snow as she screamed a war cry. With one hand, she whirled her sword over her head; in the other, her knife flashed in the dusky light. She heard the harsh music of a bowstring being released, but the shot went wide. The second and third fired, and Martine gave a start when an arrow hit her gut just below her sternum. The metal armor she wore saved her, glancing the rough forged arrowhead off to the side.

  Her seeming invulnerability was enough to shatter the resolve of the gnolls. The lead archer threw down its bow and ran, bolting an instant before her sword swiped through the air where it had stood. The other two broke rank with barking yips of terror as the wildly howling woman descended upon them. The tip of her blade carved a long slash through the ragged cloak of one, but the creatures managed to esc
ape. Her battle lust departed with them, leaving her feeling drained and bewildered.

  There was a huffing behind her, and Martine nearly thrust her blade into Jazrac's stomach before she realized who it was. "Hold!" the man cried. "Save it for the gnolls!"

  Pushing her aside, the wizard traced a figure in the air, and from his fingers leapt a series of sparkling motes of light. They rocketed toward the knolls, sizzling the air as they went. Two struck the nearest dog-man in the back, spewing out gouts of blood as if it had been struck by arrows. Two more struck the second, reeling it around in a circle, but the creature staggered on. The last dodged and darted through a stand of saplings to strike the third full in the face just as it turned to fire another shot. The beast howled and dropped its bow, fingers clutching blindly at its shattered muzzle.

  "Jazrac, get back!" Martine blurted, her battle instincts alerted by the sound of sprinting footsteps through snow. In a single move, she spun to face a charging gnoll, little more than a shadow against the snow. With one arm, she thrust out in a long lunge while her body ducked low beneath the creature's high swing. Thwack! The dog-man's blade hewed into wood, hacking splinters from the tree trunk beside the wizard's head. The Harper's sword drove into the beast's chest, and the gnoll's momentum almost toppled her before the blade slithered through its ribs.

  The gnoll's muzzle dropped open to show a fanged maw. There was a gurgling hiss as the flopping body slid down the length of her blade. Even impaled clear through, the creature wasn't finished. One scabrous arm, reeking like sewage, swung out awkwardly for her, clipping the woman in the side of her helmet. Thick claws gouged futilely at the metal.

  With a quick flip of her other hand, the ranger slashed out with a dagger. She aimed high, just under the dogman's muzzle, and was rewarded when warmth soaked her sleeve and the gnoll's head lolled stupidly. Twisting, she let the creature fall. With one foot on its chest, she tried to pull her sword free, but the blade was stuck fast for the moment Even as Martine dispatched her foe, the others were