---VORIA, SWORD BEARER OF LORD KLAR POV
A crackling sound reverberates through my body, reviving me. I can't be dead since I can hear, although darkness surrounds me. Am I in the void, the after place I once overheard his wives whisper about? I am warm, and my arms are strong and energised instead of cold and wet, which is welcomed. I draw in a deep breath.
Not in the void, then. I'm still trapped under the avalanche.
The snow about me snaps and contorts. The surrounding softness hardens. In an instant, ice replaces snow. How? I hear the stamping of a heavy footfall. I bite the inside of my cheek to stifle my scream. What now?
I endure as I try to eavesdrop on a one-sided conversation. The confidence of the feminine voice dominates a fearful masculine voice.
The conversation ceases with a whimper of pain.
"Excellent!" A single celebratory word, the feminine voice, speaks out clearly and firmly.
"Lord Klar," the same voice screams. “I will continue to free you from your wives! The secret is to sever their bond, to release you from their selfish interest until I alone will be your last one.” While the words were loud, I felt, to my dismay, the speaker standing nearby—a presence. I released my breath, my shout for rescue dying on my lips. Death hovers over me, I am sure.
"Good. Perfect. I am certain they will charge at me through the snow. What will they do when the snow they wade through becomes ice? Stay to have their bond severed or break free to slip and slide down the icy slope." Her laughter rings in my ears, and after a time fades, because of the growing separation of distance, I hope.
Freeing my dagger, I strike the ice above me and chip off a small piece. That direction offers no quick escape. I slide back down my former snow tunnel, now ice, with an impenetrable roof. At a certain point, the distinction between snow and ice becomes unclear. I dig there, sweeping the mush behind me. The mush compacts the snow it lands on. This makes room for more.
At some stage, the dark turns to light. I can only assume dawn is arriving. With a muted hope in my heart, I stab at the ice above with my dagger. Penetration. Another strike, and I break through. Several more thrusts and I make the hole big enough to fit through. The bright rays of the morning sun warm my cheeks. Lord Klar's or, more precisely, Grolgia's nanorobots have kept me dry, strong, and warm all this time, but nothing beats the comfort of sunshine and a breeze blowing through your hair.
My eyes open wide in shock. I am on the edge of chaos.
As I check downhill, the amount of ice continues, although eventually becomes snow. On the up slope, you can see ice and a bare mountain peak. Snow has destroyed and torn a gash through the ancient forest that once clung to the mountainside. Equally disturbing is the single dark imperfection within the sheet of ice. As I squint, I take in a sharp breath.
A goblin's head and torso are visible, protruding from the ice.
---DIASHA TALOP, ENGINEER AND NAVIGATION OFFICER OF THE GPA SCOUT SHIP POV
With a final exhausting gasp, I grab at the snow. Plunging my hands in the pure white chill of slush is a relief and a lifesaver. Mine.
Snow is my natural habitat. Deep down and within, I realise this now. In my hubris, the engineer in me experimented, gathered data, and then worked through calculations. Cold loss varies with the time of day and night. What number of rest periods and for what length would be required to reabsorb moisture from the warmer air of the valley? Freeze it to replenish what I lost. A challenging energy equation with ever-shifting variables for air temperature, humidity, cloud cover, sunlight, etc.
But my revenge is reality, and venturing below the snowline will always be a net energy loss equation. At best, as now in a colder season, an intolerable slow pace, with extreme vulnerability, I conclude. I can see Lord Klar and his wives picking at me. Delaying my return to the snowline until I am no more from the sun beating me down and the warm air sapping away my strength and power. Learning this lesson now is enlightening and humbling.
I flop onto my back and stare across this accursed valley. My Lord Klar and his false wives are here. I mean to find them and draw them into my environment. After all, I chuckle. I can't expect them to take me with them like they did when they thoughtfully programmed the second shuttle to follow the first. No cargo bay door, a blatant invitation. How could I say no?
---
Staring skywards while my body lays deep in the snow, recovering from my foolishness, I discern the spirit link of one of his wives. A thin, water-like ribbon ebbs and flows, stretching from the sky to the ground. He is on the move. Linmere or Tinuna must have granted him control of the shuttles. Choosing to rest and recover, I continue to study the spirit link. My mouth relaxes into a delicious smile as my vision follows the end of the link. Now, at rest in the mountain range.
He has found a secure spot for the shuttles. Therefore, I have a destination. To safely arrive, I'll take this mountain arm to reach the immense mountain range at the valley's head, then travel the length of the other mountain arm I can see across the valley. Simple, I say to myself.
It sure beats the certainty of dying from journeying straight across the floor of the valley. Such overconfidence. I thought I could wander about the valley and eventually find him and his wives. How I miss the driving rain, sleet, and snow along the coast. The wild storms, the freezing air. The tumult.
---
I stride across the snow-topped mountain range of this world. My legs push through the white powder as anyone else would slip through the air; such is my affinity for my environment. My nanorobots feed with every step. Therefore, snow and freezing air invigorate me, and I surge forward with happy abandon. Snow flies from me in all directions. Some fly higher, caught on a mountain breeze, some float back down, and some clump into balls and plummets.
I am a snow fury! Day and night, I race along my snow highway on top of this world. Once a royal of space-faring humanity, now a frozen hobgoblin of immense power. My joyful cackle bursts from my lips occasionally in celebration.
Behind me, a rumble erupts, and I halt to observe.
It seems my carelessness has generated an avalanche of snow. A roll of white quickens down the side of the mountain to crash through forested foothills, ripping and churning. The green foliage and brown tree trunks add to the somersault of snow, increasing the destructive power. I watch in fascination until the hush of the chill breeze returns. It seems all around has drawn in an expectant breath and then nothing.
I revel in this newfound chaos and destruction.
My passing continues to launch several avalanches in the following days, yet these are accidents. Their size and power vary, yet the greatest of them overrun the green of the valley below the snow line. I realise the creation of a snow avalanche will be the key. Harnessing this is how I will trespass into Lord Klar's warmth. But I need to control the location. The where. I need target practice.
---
I ponder the stone building off in the distance. Some wooden shelters for farmers or perhaps traders surround the stronghold. They have made a wise choice. A plateau is a superior defensive location, although this site is more like an extension sprouting out from the mountain range. Despite a significant accumulation of snow above the area, my efforts to churn cannot generate an avalanche.
This is a physics and engineering challenge. The snow is dense and immovable because the mountain slope does not have sufficient incline to generate a natural avalanche. So, I need to either increase the incline or reduce the cohesion. Increasing the incline is impossible. I can't raise a mountain. Yet snow can melt, and the water breaks the cohesion and lubricates. Could the solution be so simple?
---
I dive into the snow as anyone else would dive into the water. My nanorobots push and compress the snow to either side of me relentlessly as gravity drives me deeper and deeper. A couple of body lengths deep, and my progress slows. The snowpack layer is compact and rigid. Fortunately, it is also slim. The next layer is softer and thin. I discovered that the layers of snow in a snowpack can vary from hard to soft and thick to thin.
Several body lengths down, I find the perfect layer to split this snow slab. Finger width, hard snow.
My nanorobots draw out the cold of this layer to recharge themselves. We can neither create nor destroy energy, only transform it. The hard snow melts. Some water flows back into my tunnel, but the majority remains between the layers as I expand the ice melt area.
After a while, my nanorobots reached their limit in absorbing cold. To my bitter disappointment, the slab remains in place. I then utilise this energy to create a set of ice steps to climb out.
If I can't send them an avalanche, perhaps I can send them some snowballs?
I form balls of ice as tall as I am, using the nanorobots to push, contour and compress the surrounding snow.
Mid joy, I stare at my blue-green hands. They radiate cold even here, on a snow-covered mountain. Something I have taken for granted hits me at this moment. My nanorobots project my will beyond the confines of my body. How? What of my snow marching and snow swimming? The fact science cannot explain this feat is the sole certainty. Who am I kidding? My return to life was an impossibility. My love for Lord Klar notwithstanding. I exist beyond scientific explanation, something I have been denying until now.
The remaining balls of ice take longer to prepare than the first as I try to study and comprehend the process. With ten prepared, I melt the ice, which fixes them in place. A gentle push for each ball, and they roll down the slope of the mountain.
With a thumping, crashing descent, they gather speed, plummeting towards the buildings on the plateau.
The roar grows until deafening. My hands cover my ears. Over half of the ice balls bounce skywards and, upon landing, careen off course. I reach out to steady myself as the snow shifts under me. Snow and air vibrate. The few remaining ice balls reach the plateau and crash through the few mature trees in their way, and my heart sings. Not specifically what I wanted, but enough to gain the attention of my victims.
Small greenish figures spill out of their humble abodes in no time, and I chuckle in delight.
A deafening crack sobers me. The echo bounces around the mountain range, setting off other loud cracks. Less than a body length away, a crevasse in the snow appears and then grows wider and longer. It races across the mountain slope. Then the roar begins and doesn't stop building. An enormous sheet of snow descends, heading towards the plateau and its inhabitants. The sheet stumbles and then somersaults into an angry rolling wave of snow and ice.
The speed of the avalanche outpaces my attempts to follow as I sprint after it. I am like a proud parent, sending off their grown child to do their bidding.
Unable to follow the avalanche down, I climb to higher ground.
The avalanche's ball of ice and snow obliterates the sparse forest on the mountain's lower reaches. Momentum carries the slab forward, crashing into the buildings outside the stronghold. A brief wait for another answer. I witness an avalanche's power against the stronghold's stone walls.
From my vantage point, I cannot determine if the stronghold no longer exists or if the snow and ice conceal it. The answer can remain a mystery, as I need to examine the technique. The balls of ice were the key, I decided. Like skiers, the ice balls, bouncing and dense, must have triggered the avalanche. Adhesion reduction was necessary but not pivotal.
---
It is him, or of him?
A more pungent scent this time. I am confident now.
Does a shadow of his follow me?
My journey across the mountain range after the avalanche was carefree as I was between places. His valley stretches out towards the east. Beyond the humongous cliff face, in the west, lay my sole reason for delay. Beyond is where I was reborn. I recklessly dedicate time to remembering.
My reawakening occurred just over there, where I discovered my true purpose. Lord Klar will be mine and mine alone.
This awareness of him is recent. I wonder about the coincidence as I am now travelling across the other mountain range, approaching the location where Lord Klar has, I suspect, hidden the shuttles. Does he send his agents to intercept me? That would suggest he knows where I am. How? Has the sudden increase in the number of snow avalanches been my folly?
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I push these thoughts to the back of my mind, yet doubt remains. I scan the sky and detect no spirit links. Not him; otherwise, I would see him as a common source of multiple spirit links. None of his false wives, but perhaps a concubine? Enough of his seed would taint them with his presence, I suspect.
A smell of him but not his smell, which my reconstructed nose can now detect.
After causing several avalanches by accident during my travels, I can confidently pinpoint an ideal location. Here is perfect: over thirty degrees slope, give or take. The recent snowfall and the wind picking up, so all it needs is a trigger. My trespass is the best as I churn through the snow as I travel.
I continue, heading lower down the mountain slope, attempting to lead whoever shadows me into my trap.
Once I have them, I dive into the snow and tunnel or ice, step higher until I return to where I first sensed their scent. No, beyond scent, the familiar presence of Lord Klar. I stifle a chuckle, like an aftershave or an antiperspirant, maybe?
I depend on them being confused for some time, especially since I seal the tunnel as best I can with loose snow. Then, I start my churn at the top of the mountain range.
---
The rumble of the avalanche quietens. With a swagger, I descend amongst the tumult of snow. No need to search the snow field. My nanorobots will find their own. They will find a concentration of Lord Klar's nanorobots when tasked.
I am still trying to figure out how. It could be a scent detection because when I first sensed him or her, my awareness of their presence appeared and fled. It's like the scent of aftershave being carried on an uncertain breeze. For example, it's not a definite lock that a missile system relies on.
Zig, zagging down the snow slope, I depend on my nanorobots; they don't fail me. Two tiny hands snatch at snow three body lengths away. I hoped my nanorobots could do better than that. Too close.
I withdraw to what I hope is a safe distance. A head emerges amidst the two hands. Goblin? The creature's eyes fly wide open.
"Why would a goblin smelling of Lord Klar want to follow me?"
His brow furrows while his hands dig vigorously, and even his shoulders wiggle and waggle to shift the snow away.
"I am, I am…"
His surprise is obvious. No notion of who or what he followed.
"Perhaps this is personal?" I wiped out a stronghold and surrounding buildings several days back. He could be a survivor, and with Lord Klar's blood and nanorobots, someone most likely to do so. Revenge then. I am guessing, but I don't care. A sneak is never full of good intentions.
He sets his now free elbows in the snow, and his torso rises. The desperation and surprise in his eyes captivate me. He probably deemed himself superior to all his friends and enemies. This superior goblin must have spied me high in the mountains, savouring my destruction. He reasoned I was involved, but failed to comprehend my level of blame. How could he? He measures power in terms of himself.
His being trapped in this snow avalanche has convinced him otherwise.
Through the soles of my feet, my nanorobots do my bidding. I can't help but show off.
Horror now fills his eyes as the surrounding snow compacts and transforms into ice. His elbows slip, and his torso drops back down. I imagine his legs are scrambling. Trying to gain purchase on the ice.
Balling up ice and snow, I throw it at his escape hole. Maybe he surmises I am a poor aim as I miss him with most throws. He doesn't realise that I have questions for him, and I want him to give up the idea of survival, let alone escape.
I freeze the snow pile around him. He yelps in surprise. Did he assume I could just freeze snow once? While he has been scrambling, my nanorobots have gathered energy, hence the icy slush at my feet.
While I wait for him to exhaust himself with different doomed ideas of escape, I craft a comfortable chair out of the snow. Once I'm done, I lounge back and wait in comfort.
Seeing he is not done, I experiment. I command my nanorobots to detect him, or more specifically, Lord Klar's nanorobots in him. At our present distance apart, I need to concentrate to detect him. This means he was closer when I inadvertently felt his presence. Did he stalk me within striking distance but didn't? Waited in ambush, but perhaps out of arm's length? Did his lack of height interfere?
"What do you want?" he asks.
I flutter my eyes open and stretch out in my chair. "Some answers."
He sticks his chin out. "Do I have any chance of living afterwards?"
I tap my chin. "Unlikely."
"Then why would I," he yells.
"I could make your death slow and painful?" His face remains stoic. "I will hunt down all the survivors of your stronghold and slay them slowly." He grinds his teeth. "That just leaves, ripping an arm and leg off, cauterising the wounds and allowing you to live."
He swallows and whispers, "No."
So, ego, then. The goblin doesn't care about others. I assume he commands his nanorobots well enough to subdue any pain I can inflict. Still, others seeing him as a cripple doesn't appeal to him.
---
He tries to keep some secrets, but snapping off a couple of fingers and threatening to do the same for his ears and nose seems to cure him. He babbles about many things, proud of his lineage, prouder of his current blood. A citadel of assassins, unknown to most but the precious few who hired them. The most helpful piece of his snivelling confession was the story of his metamorphosis from skilled assassin to grandmaster. He imbibed dust that tried to kill him but won the battle of will and commanded them instead.
How does one of Lord Klar's wives become dust?
Then I chuckle. The scout ship. It contained the weapon designed by Ed, or as his mother named him, Erasmus Dadaces Forest. The full explanation isn't that simple. Too much time has passed. For this to be accounted for, the weapon must be on the Observer Ship. Worse, someone must be onboard and still in command. Am I at risk or is an enemy of my enemy, my friend? After all, one of his wives is now dust.
I shout out in triumph. Challenging Lord Klar and promising to remove his wives. My reasoning is simple. If the weapon targets me, I will have ample time to gain control over my nanorobots because I will have abundant snow to feed their thirst.
---
I detect no warmth from a living body inside the mountain cave. As I stroll in, I discover the first shuttle towards the back, around a bend. It's not obvious from the cave entrance, yet it's too easy. The damaged second shuttle isn't here. Interesting. With the missing shuttle door, I am sure no passengers were onboard if docked on the Observer Ship. So, either auto return without passengers or elsewhere on this planet, with or without passengers.
A cold campfire and little else. I can only assume Lord Klar and his wives are now together in his village.
I return to the snowline. My onward trek along the mountain range is more like a tourist savouring the journey instead of being fixated on the destination. There will be an optimal distance between the snow line and his village, and I mean to find it. An avalanche will assist, as would drawing him into the mountains.
---
Hunters. I observe them at their trade, checking a trap line. Small game is their target, yet, at dusk, when they check the many traps, they find few contain animals. They grumble around their campfire about the lack of game. Some are even so traitorous as to blame their Clan Head. Others are quick to berate them.
The cold months are approaching as I relish the night air while waiting for these hunters to unintentionally guide me. They mentioned Lord Klar and how his contrary view to their Clan Head could have been the way forward. They casually mentioned how things had grown worse, not better, under their Clan Head before they all turned in for the night.
A surprise. The hunters feel so secure they don't post a watch.
Once out of the high ranges and recent game trails, they lead me along ancient, well-trod game trails. Some paths are wide enough for two or three people, all with a firm footing. They all head towards one destination as other trails, like the streams in a valley, wind their way towards a river. The crisp, chill air sustains me, yet I must rest at night. I must accept this cost because my recovery isn't complete by the following day.
I acknowledge taking a risk, but need to learn more about Lord Klar's neighbours.
They didn't lead me to the main building of the settlement. Smaller cottages and log cabins were where they found their journey's end. I needed to lurk at night and overhear angry shouting and demanding rhetoric to locate the most prominent building and possibly the residence of the Clan Head.
I grin as I finally find an enemy of my enemy. He can eliminate Lord Klar's wives if my eavesdropping on his hunters is not idle boasting.
---
"As you can probably deduce, Clan Head Jarlgren, I prefer snow and ice instead of trees and trails." He would forgive my recent ignorance if he could appreciate what I needed to endure to be here. The experimentation required to achieve the best unit operation balance between walking and resting is burdensome. Walking would cost me fluid from melting. I would then need to rest and reabsorb moisture from the air to freeze. Travelling in a cold or half-frozen river or stream helped, of course. But each moment away from the snow weakened me.
The banging on the main hall entrance and the servant's entrance breaks me from my contemplation. I made ice to hold fast both entrances. The servants quiver in one corner of the hall. A couple of his protectors are now silent after attempting a reckless attack on me.
"What of my sons?"
I will defend myself from anything that swings an axe at me. Catching their weapons, I drew them to me and blew my icy breath in their face. Even with frozen noses, they screamed. Intolerable! My grip on their necks was the solution, but at no time did he tell me they were his sons. Apparently, all who sat at the table sharing a meal with him were his sons or daughters. Knowing this, I will be extra careful from now on.
"A mistake. I apologise, of course, but I simply defended myself."
This Clan Head has more sons. Why carry on? Isn't the royal rule an air and a spare? It seems he has several.
His eyes stay on the corpses of his sons. "You attacked my clan. What did you presume would happen?"
I quirk my head. "After the first, I thought they would realise their impotence," I reply. If only I could tell him, confess my present state, but you know, I can't. What about the many times I had to trail his hunters to find his hall? Time wasted recovering in the snow, and now this journey. Trees and game trails are not my preferred environment, so I am not currently at my best. I must finish this visit quickly.
He rises, his face glowing with anger. He steps towards me, and then a switch must go off in his brain as he halts. What if someone told him the true feelings of his hunters? Many whispered against him, yet I am still taking this chance to save him from himself. I don't understand my excessive generosity. Ah, yes, the enemy of my enemy concept. My family appreciated those types of allies. Everyone had skin in the game beyond simple plotting.
"They act to defend me. Nothing else concerns them until I call them off," the Clan Head says with bitterness.
Should I tell him blind loyalty and thoughtless action doesn't result in anything good? After all, my grandparents married nobodies because the family demanded them to. In that simple act, we slipped from fourth in line to the throne to eightieth because of blood purity. I had no interest in the throne, which may explain why I love Lord Klar. I love him so much that I returned from death.
Time is pressing. "Did your recent plans go stray? Maybe your spies died unexpectedly, or the information flow became a dribble from Lord Klar's village?"
His fists land with a thump on his splendid table. The whimpering of his servants is the only other noise in the room, and he shouts at them to shut up. With a flick of his head, his remaining two sons approach them, axes drawn.
"What do you know about this?" he demands.
"Your collection of armour." I broad grin with delight as his face contorts once again. "You need to accept what I am about to say next. Will you at least hear me out?"
He turns his back on me. His muttering makes little sense except for every third word, a swear word. I somewhat sympathise with his frustration. Royal and in line for the throne, I had little chance of climbing higher. I lost interest, of course, and forged my career while searching for true love and escaping their hideous marriage plans for me. As a reborn frozen hobgoblin, I doubt my line would consider me marriage material now.
I sigh, and a puff of cold air escapes between my lips. He needs to accept an explanation from someone who has just killed a couple of his sons and locked him up in his own hall.
Through gritted teeth, he growls his agreement.
"Lord Klar's wives serve him after death. Their spirits can linger if they find something that resonated with them when they lived. Such as their armour."
His jaw drops. He wishes to disbelieve. Instead, his eyes brighten, alive with comprehension. I explain the unexplainable. My words ring true against all he knows and believes, no matter how incredible. Those still in his hall catch their breath, waiting for their Clan Head to respond. His body drops into his chair at the head of the table. The relief of an explanation was not enough to overcome the exhaustion from many nights of nightmare sleep.
"What now?" he murmurs.
"To confirm our alliance, I have dealt with them."
"Dealt with them?"
“They will no longer betray you, although I caution you to not collect any more of his wives' armour.”
---
My departure from his hall was swift. Somehow, they accepted the moisture dripping from my body as sweat—amazing. Yet, if they had attacked me, I would have been uncertain of the outcome.
I meditate and begin absorbing moisture from the night air. After a time, my body stabilises to some extent. Instinctively, I sensed my end was close. Before I can comprehend the possibility of my entire body melting, I sense the warmth of another.
"Reveal yourself," I say in a casual tone.
A girl in rags, timid step after timid step, approaches. Goosebumps decorate her arms and legs. Her shoes are rough leather tied and wrapped around her feet. Since the Clan Head's people know about the death of his sons, she should too. Is this do or die for her?
"I hate my existence." She spits out the words with a potent venom.
"The Clan Head believes his clan is the strongest in the valley. Go back to him."
"I am not of his clan, not of his valley. A captive only, traded as a child many times."
I hold up my hand to stop her angry prattle. "Return to your master before he fetches you and punishes you."
A thin smile draws across her lips. "That would be difficult for him. I stabbed him in the neck as he attempted to make a mother of me."
I cast my eyes over her again. My first question is how? "Was your master old, infirm?"
"He was, but he gifted me to his son for this trip to Clan Head Jarlgren."
I should freeze her… "On your way, then. Seems you can take care of yourself."
"Spirits. Wives returning. I understand all of this. I need to aid you."
"How does a youngster know anything?"
"I am aware of the neck vein. The vein in the leg. Both can bring down the mightiest of hobgoblins. I know a husband with multiple wives. Knew him as Lord Klug. You call him Lord Klar, but they are the same. I tell you because I presume you won't slay me for the blasphemy I speak."
Slay her? Who am I speaking to?
"I won't slay you, but you should leave now as I am busy, too busy for an escaped slave who is not much more than skin and bones."
"Not this time," she shouts. "After countless lifetimes of suffering, I find myself here." She slices her hand and flings her blood at me. A droplet or two lands on my tongue and freezes. I don't understand. The blank look on my face must betray me. "Blood is important on this planet, you stupid bitch!" she screams. "How can someone be so powerful and not grasp that simple rule?" She chews her lip while I try to devise several slow ways to take her life. "You are right. I need to find another. Where did you, an imbecile, grow up? You will never appreciate the insight I can offer."
With that said, she turns her back to me. I dash to my feet and close the distance between us. She shivers, and then my hand throttles around her neck. Slowly. I wish to savour her cold descent into death.
She rasps out several halting words, "Know this, you stupid bitch. You are slaying Suda the Faithful, originally a goblin of the Flint Arrows." She gasps. "Enemy of …"
Who is or was she? Self-interest, self-importance, much? Well, slave, I am royalty.
I see her spirit slip from her flesh. She shakes her ghostly head from side to side. A finger points at me, and she still seems to mouth words at me. Breathing on the ghostly visage of her rising spirit, her face locks up. Like his wives, I can interact with her. The difference is that I have solely targeted the spirit link between them. My hand reaches above my head and settles around her neck.
As her face defrosts, I note the surprise and effortlessly read her lips. "What are you?"
I complete the freezing of her body. Then, with my other hand, I draw her spirit back until the apparition settles gently over her frozen body.
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