And The Wolves Danced
A Short Story of Fire and Stone
by Stephanie Beavers
Copyright 2013 Stephanie Beavers
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An icy wind cut through the thick layers of furs like they were fishnet, prompting Esset to rub his hands together and realize he’d almost lost feeling in his fingers. He glanced over at the rest of the assembling squad, but as usual, everyone else seemed to handle the cold better than he did. Well, let them; he had his own strategies.
Esset muttered under his breath—even had the speech been uttered clearly, no one would’ve understood it, not even Esset himself. They were the syllables of a summoning incantation, and a small, strange bat materialized in front of the summoner. Esset reached out and took the creature in his hands—it was black and ashy like a coal, but close inspection would prove there were tiny veins of molten heat along its skin and tiny pinpricks of fire for eyes. It gave a tiny squeak that sounded like the sizzle of a flame, a protest against being held. Esset ignored it and held it tightly between his hands.
Unlike most of his other summons, there were no requirements or conditions to summon the little bat. It might have been considered an abuse of power, summoning a creature from another plane of existence to warm his hands, but Esset wasn’t keen on getting frostbite on his fingers. Besides, the little creature quieted down fairly quickly. Esset wasn’t sure his summons could sleep, but it seemed like it was taking a nap.
Esset caught his thoughts wandering and snapped back to the present with a glance around at his surroundings. Toman—his brother—always chastised him for woolgathering in the field. Esset knew it could get him killed, but it still happened despite his best efforts. And fortunately he technically wasn’t in the field yet—his group had yet to move out. Esset had been waiting for Squad Leader Perrin to finish talking to one of the scouts before he approached the other soldier.
“Reporting for duty, sir. What happened?” Esset asked. The captain had just told Esset to report—no specifics.
“A squad went missing last night on routine patrol up near the ridge. We’re pulling search and rescue,” Perrin replied. Esset hid a wince; it was rare for there to be anyone left to rescue when squads went missing. Still, they had to check it out. They needed to make sure enemy forces weren’t slipping through their lines.
“To think, missing the day before the war ended,” another soldier in the squad interjected. “Talk about bad luck.”
“War’s not over yet, soldier,” Perrin reprimanded him. “We might’ve killed the Warlord last night, but do you think the undead’ll all go home and tuck themselves into bed now that their leader is gone? There’s still fighting to be done. We need to mop up the rest of those monsters so Baliya can have peace again. Wars don’t end overnight.”
Esset knew the truth of Perrin’s words as well as he knew how easy it was to fall into the other soldier’s line of thinking. They were all exhausted. There hadn’t been rest for months; they fought enemies that didn’t sleep. As the cold and darkness of the north wore away the strength of the human army, the undead and enemy monsters pressed on tirelessly. Until now. Now they just had to mop up the remaining forces. Soon, Esset and his brother could go home. They were both tired of the endless snow, tired of fighting the endless legions of undead.
But first they had to find the missing squad.
As his own squad moved out, Esset tried to stay close to Perrin and the tracker at the front. They were following the route the squad had taken. Esset was a lousy tracker, but there were others on the squad who were good at it. Esset just followed along and remained watchful for signs of enemies, but so far, all he could see was snow, some rocks, and more snow. That was why he was so surprised when Perrin waved him over; he didn’t see what he’d be needed for yet.
Esset dropped his hands to his sides, keeping the summoned bat hidden in one hand, and covered the few extra paces between them easily. The group kept their pace, and Perrin didn’t even look at Esset when he spoke to him; instead he kept his eyes forward, on the tracks of the missing squad.
“I was surprised when the captain assigned you to this mission,” Perrin said. It wasn’t phrased as a question, but he clearly expected an answer.
“The front lines are broken and scattered with the Warlord dead, so there’s no concentrated force for me to fight. I suppose he still could’ve had me chasing small pockets, but…” Esset shrugged. He could guess at the captain’s motives, but he just followed orders. The higher ups tended to have a better idea than he did of where he would be most effective.
Esset waited for a minute, but Perrin’s expectant silence continued, so Esset started talking again.
“Maybe…well, this squad that went missing, I didn’t think this was a high-danger area. Maybe the captain thinks there’s an unknown threat out here, something you might need help with.”
“I’m not going to have any problems, am I?” Perrin asked. Esset blinked. He’d never worked with this squad leader before, and he wasn’t sure what he’d done to warrant this reaction.
“No, sir.” Esset figured it was best to keep the response simple. For the first time since they’d begun speaking, Perrin glanced over at him, giving him a short, measuring look before returning his attention to tracking.
It seemed that Esset would have to prove himself to Perrin. Well, that was fine. To an extent, Esset was trying to prove himself to himself, too; the same was true for his brother. That was even part of the reason they’d joined this war in the first place—they had goals that stretched beyond the war. They needed to get stronger before they could face the enemy they’d sworn to take down.
“Good. I don’t need any would-be heroes. I need soldiers.” With Perrin’s words, Esset realized that Perrin knew something about his and Toman’s goals for after the war. Honestly, many would think the two of them fools for pursuing that enemy in particular. But that was fine—Esset would simply keep fighting and following orders as long as he was here.
“Yes, sir,” Esset said again. Perrin didn’t seem to have anything else to say—or expect anything else, either—so Esset dropped back to the middle of the group again, clasping his hands together around the warm little bat once more.
They’d been following the missing squad’s tracks for a couple hours when Perrin and the other tracker slowed down and began whispering urgently to each other while pointing at the tracks.
“What’s wrong?” Esset asked. He couldn’t see much or hear them from where he was.
“These tracks are too widely spaced,” Perrin responded. “The squad started running here, but we can’t tell why.”
“Something chasing them?” Esset thought it was the logical explanation.
“Probably, but there are no other tracks on the trail,” Perrin explained. Esset looked out over the landscape again. It seemed unlikely that anything could walk atop the extremely deep drifts off the path. Certainly not any of their usual opponents—the undead, vampires, human mages—and they had no aerial opponents that they knew of.
“Well, then either something flew or came over the snow,” Esset said. Those were the only options. Their enemy had come up with something new.
“Or they’ve got some new magic,” another said.
“Or they’re raising spirits,” said yet another, clutching at a talisman beneath his cloak.
Esset thought the last two suggestions were possible, but improbable. New magic would typically mean the missing squad had run into a mage in person, but the Warlord’s mages tended to tuck themselves away someplace safe and send their creations out to
fight for them. As for spirits…that was just plain unlikely.
“Well, we’re here to find that squad. Come on,” Perrin said, once again leading the way. Everyone was a little more alert, casting glances over their shoulders and over the snowy landscape.
They followed the running tracks up to and alongside a large rocky outcropping. Then the tracks split off the path, pushing through a large drift down into a cave opening. Exchanging looks, the other men drew their swords, and they started to edge through the path in the chest-high drift as well. Even though the path was mostly broken for them, the snow still pressed around them and came up to their knees. Esset kept looking behind him, thinking it would be all too easy to attack them here, where their movements would be severely limited. He banished the little bat he’d been carrying and kept the incantation for a more formidable summon on the tip of his tongue.
They were almost to the cave entrance