The sky cleared before they reached the stockade. They could feel the air getting colder by the minute, as if the clouds had been the only thing holding the warmer air over Coal Island. Bright stars patterned the cosmos beyond the parting clouds until the sky filled with glittering lights.
“It’s beautiful,” Corporal Anders admired the view as they descended the slope to the stockade.
“It’s cold as hell,” Robert spoke testily. “How the hell can people live up here?” He stopped and called out to the stockade. “Ho the fort? Is anyone there?”
Only torches burned on the top of the wall, no men were visible and no voices returned the hail.
Could he have been wrong? Robert had expected the Robber King would leave them alone in expectation of the battle to come. Minor incidents did not seem to affect the monster; pain and suffering on a massive scale were what it wanted. It needed the resolution of a great battle involving death and deliberate destruction, as if it had grown jaded by the sacrifices of the local Indians. If he was wrong about this basic understanding, then every conclusion could be wrong.
In desperation, Robert called out to the fort again. “Is there anyone in the fort?”
What else was he wrong about?
“Major?” a voice called out.
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Both Anders and Robert sighed relief, their worried stares at the stockade relaxing. “Open the gate.” Robert gave the order with a touch of exasperation, then he and Anders walked.
Wood creaked as men inside the stockade pushed open a door against the weight of the snow on the ground. “Hell Major, we’re all in the lean too trying to stay warm’s cold as hell out here.”
“Light as many fires as you want and I’ll tell you the news,” Robert entered the false safety of the stockade. “And close that damn door.”
The men grumbled good-naturedly to the orders; their major was back.
“Where is Sergeant Burns?”
“We set his body over there,” one man at the door pointed to a shelter of logs hastily constructed against the side of the stockade.
Robert made his way to the shelter, waving Anders back for privacy. The men kept a respectful distance. The cold air had frozen the sergeant’s remains; thankfully someone had arranged the dead man to a respectful position, as if Burns was only sleeping. Robert looked at the man he had considered a friend, placing a hand on Burns forehead, and brushing the locks of hair into a semblance of order.
When nothing made sense, Burns had helped Robert to find the right path, to think of the world differently. Thus far, the Sergeant had been right; any success against the Robber King now sat directly at the feet of a dead man.
“I’ll be seeing you soon,” then Robert remained silent as he considered what he had learned this night.
Reflecting light finally pulled Robert from his thoughts. He stepped from the shelter to find two great fires roaring with men huddled close. Robert clapped his hands together and rubbed them as he walked to the group of men. “That’s good men; we need the fires of Perdition to ward off the cold.”
Battle hardened men used to daily doses of death laughed at the Major’s attempt to breathe life back into the troops. As weak as the joke was, it helped them all.