Cold Steel
By Buddingwriter1863
Prologue- Breaths of Mud
The old woman knew that she was a harbinger of ill-deeds to be done the moment she set foot in her dusty old shop. It was one of the less fashionable herbariums in an even less chic part of town. Its visitors came for its reputation not its visual glitz. Enough people had passed through for its owner to read them as plainly as an advertisement for cheap lye soap. So, when the girl walked through the door with a dark-green, mud-stained cloak wrapped tightly around her, hands shaking slightly as they tightly clutched a bunched-up mound of the fabric to her breast, the owner knew instantly.
"What'll you be havin' then?" She rasped through withered lips.
"Willow's Wail." The cloaked girl whispered while turning her head slightly as if expecting a constables should be standing behind her, though there was no one in the shop this late in the day excepting the two of them. As she did so, the old woman managed to catch a glimpse of red hair peaking out from underneath the molded hood.
Her eyes narrowed. "That be a most dangerous and most potent weed. For what purpose?"
"What matter does it make? I have money." The girl took out a small bag with a familiar jingling singing from its depths and dropped it upon the counter.
The old crone would not be swayed so easily.
"Now listen 'ere, luv. If I was to just 'and every Tom, Dick, and 'Arry who came in here that flower, the 'igh feathers'd be in 'ere in a mouses nick 'n 'and everything I wore this old face down to leather buildin' over to the local magistrate." She said with a scowl.
For but a moment the girl said nothing. Likely she was formulating in her head what she ought to say. Once more she glanced back nervously to the front door.
"Rats." She spoke at last.
"Rats?" A raised wrinkled eyebrow answered.
"Yes, a very…large rat." The girl lifted her head slightly and a pair of stunning green eyes locked with the tired, darkly underscored ones of the proprietor. She could see fear in them, but a desperation as well that gave her pause.
Now it was the woman's turn to ponder her words as she shifted her gaze between the sack of coin on her counter and the sad, tired, pleading eyes of its vendor. Upon taking a nervous survey of the empty shop herself, the old woman held up a finger before retreating into the darkness of the area behind the counter (why pay for the gas to light the whole store?). She returned shortly with a delicate flower, a single light blue blossom folded snugly atop a stringy but sturdy, dark green stem that had one or two pitiful leaves just beginning to sprout across its surface.
"This will be plenty enough for a single rat." She explained as she wrapped the girl's purchase in a cloth that was tied closed with a bit of string.
The girl looked uncertain. "It is a particularly large rat…"
The old woman picked up the small bag and opened it to count the currency within. "It will be enough." She said firmly.
"You are certain?"
"Luv, I've been at this business for thirty years. I'd be a pauper in the square by now if I didn't know me own trade." A touch of irritation brushed a sharp color to the woman's words. "It will be enough!"
Perhaps fearing that further provocation would endanger the transaction, the girl swiftly snatched up her purchase and headed for the door.
"Luv…."
She paused at the woman's call and turned. The dim light from the gas lantern on the wall next to the door illuminated the face of a girl no older than sixteen with a freckled nose.
"Rats can be dangerous, especially if their lives be in jeopardy. Take great care." The old owner cautioned her.
The girl only nodded before departing. For a time, the woman stood and pondered the odd encounter, but the chiming of the clock and the growling of her stomach shook her from her speculations. Thus, she locked up the store for the eve and headed up stairs to sate it.
I'll be thankful I'm not 'aving what that rat's having. She thought.
The utter chaos that had ruled the trench line but a few hours previous had finally given way to a deathly silence among its inhabitants as they stared up at the precipice of the glorified ditch that had been their salvation since their arrival at the front from the many thousands of hot pieces of lead and shrapnel that rained down upon no-man's-land. Now, they were about to depart that sweet sanctuary and try and seize that of others. Though they could not see, they could the roar and earth-shaking booms as thousands of their own artillery shells sallied forth to clear their way as much as possible. Those who were veterans of many of these charges knew better. Most were either deep in prayer for pardon of their sins or were sneaking a final smoke in before the gauntlet. Two of them, however, were simply standing in silence as the firestorm roared above them.
"You have done this before, right?" One of the pair whispered to her companion.
"I have; several times over in fact." The other replied.
"What will happen?"
"They will blow the whistle and send up flares. Everyone will head out over the top, but do not try to be among the first. The first only charge to God."
"So, what shall we do?"
"The trick is to dither without appearing to do so. Take your time getting to and up the ladder. Let as many go first as you can."
"Can we not wait and be the last to go?"
"Not from this far forward, the officers will become suspicious." The first soldier glanced over at one such nearby lieutenant, who was gazing a hole through his wristwatch.
"So why are we…?"
"Listen, when we go over there will be so much chaos, no one will take any notice of us. They shall be too busy trying not to get hit, and the officers will be busy forcing out any malingerers. Just follow my lead."
"Anna…."
"Artur." The soldier corrected her.
"Artur, I feel unwell." The poor woman's face was indeed pale and sallow looking. She began to tug at the strap of helmet running underneath her chin. Artur took hold of her hand.
"Stop, you mustn't fiddle with it. If your hair falls out, we are finished." He hissed.
"I cannot breathe." His companion gasped.
"Elsa, look at me." Artur hissed, drawing his face close to hers. Her eyes, brimming with fear and anxiety met his own.
For a moment he found himself lost in their beauty, despite the circumstances. The light blue irises never ceased to pull him in.
"You are going to be alright. I swear to you." He assured her.
"You can control bullets then, can you?" It was meant as a tease, but its origin point was serious.
Artur pulled her closer and gently adjusted her strap. "I will die on this field before you will, my lady."
"Do not say such things." Elsa hissed, putting her own hand upon his shoulder.
"I swore I would keep you safe."
"That was two years ago."
"An oath always stands."
Their faces drew closer together as, for a moment, the horror and death around them faded. It was just them, together. Artur had not even noticed that their hold on one another had transformed into an embrace. Even with the bruising, Elsa looked as beautiful as he remembered. Her bottom lip quivered. His own had lost all feeling up until the moment that they met hers.
"FIX BAYONETS!"
The yell brought them crashing back. They pulled away from one another and snapped to attention as the others around them began to attach their own blades to their rifles.
"Let me see your bayonet, quickly!" Artur pulled the blade from Elsa's sheathe and set to attaching it to her rifle before setting his own.
"Anna, I…"
"Artur."
"No, Anna…."
They looked into each other's eyes for one more moment.
"If we do not survive, I should tell you…"
"Tell me when we get through."
"What if we do not?"
At this, Artur grinned. "We will, because I want to know what you have to tell me."
She managed a smile at that. Then the whistles sounded. A mighty cry went up, and Elsa's stomach was crushed to the floor under fresh wave of fear.
"Steady." Artur did his best to calm her as the men started up the ladders. "Start moving."
With his hand on her arm, he guided her slowly but steadily toward one of the wooden climbing implements before them. As the sounds of yelling and explosions grew somehow louder, the sorry construct of wood seemed so frail. Would it possible hold anyone's weight? Let alone her own. A new round of nausea took hold, and she was sick upon the ground. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, each one tasting of mud and gun powder.
"Forward my lady, forward." Artur's voice urged her up the ladder.
Elsa stared up into the overcast sky. Several airplanes roared overhead. The loud drones of their engines, coupled with a fresh series of explosions caused her to hesitate, but she could feel Artur gently prodding her forward. Step by step, she drew closer to the top. Then, the wall of muddy earth gave way to a vision of hell few should ever have to witness. Before her lay a crater marked field of mud filled with tangled barbered wire and men struggling to make their way forward through both as a hail of bullets from the trench line at the base of the hill before them. Trapped in a spell of utter awe, she could only stare as clouds of dust and fire sprang up from artillery, and the shapes of men moving through the maze of death, metal, and mud became a strange, wriggling mass before her that she could never quite focus fully upon.
"Elsa, we need to move." Artur's voice brought her back. It was perhaps the only thing at that point that could.
He was pushing her, and she started forward, her heart pounding in her eardrums, or perhaps it was the artillery, she could not be sure. She was vaguely aware of others around them running forward. Always behind her, though, was the presence of Artur slowly moving her forward into the hailstorm. The screams of wounded men joined the din as they advanced into no-man's-land. A sharp whistling began to sound, and she felt Artur wrap his arms around her waste and pull her backward so that they both fell into the mud.
"Stay down!" he tried to yell over the loud explosion that followed as a shell struck so near that the vibrations seemed to turn her heart to jelly.
She was paralyzed, but Artur pushed her off him and onto her belly.
"Stay low, and crawl."
The instructions given; Elsa started forward. She was so distracted by everything going on, that she left her rifle behind. The cold water seeping from the mud into her clothes barely registered, and her gaze never left the field of macabre terrors before her as they started forward. She watched as a bullet struck a fellow just a few feet ahead of her. Blood spurted from his neck as he collapsed, gasping and gurgling as they crawled past.
"Dear God…."
"Do not look, my lady."
Onward they pushed, the explosions, gunfire, roar of planes, and cries for men to see their mothers' faces just one more time conjoined into a cacophony of hellish background music. At one point, she felt a sharp pain in her leg, and discovered that she had accidentally stuck her leg into a tangle of barbed wire. Artur maneuvered over and helped her untangle it, but she could see blood seeping from the tear in her uniform.
"Forward Elsa, forward!" His voice was ever her engine, driving her onward.
Another whistle, another blast, this time even closer. Her ears gave a sharp burst of pain in protest at such decibels, and a shrill ringing filled them. Still, he pushed her onward. They were getting closer now. Before them was a crater halfway filled with mud, water, and a few bodies in various stages of dismemberment. The water was tinged pink with blood. Once again, her body refused to go on.
"We have to go down, Elsa. They are targeting this area; we have to take cover!" The urgency somehow tripled in Artur's voice.
Another whistle, another shell. This time closer. She followed his lead down into the cesspool. The water was cold and soaked in as they splashed their way through. At one point she came upon a hand with no owner, and then a body who vacant eyes stared at her in a muted terror. It was the stuff of nightmares.
"We are almost there, my lady. When I tell you, raise your hands and yell as loud as you can that you surrender!" Artur's voice was starting to lose its battle with the ringing and other noise doing its best to drown him out. Still, she nodded. They finally left the crater. A new sound, a sharp whistling whirr sounded overhead. Bullets, they must have been. Suddenly, she felt Artur pulling up on her elbow.
"Up, but do not stand up all the way. Quick, behind here." There was a mass of barbed wire and sandbags that had been slammed together that they now sat behind.
Elsa struggle to catch her breath as she watched several more Braqueland soldiers get shot and fall. She glanced at Artur, who was peeking over the top of their shelter.
"The Arendelle line is just ahead, only three hundred meters or so." He shouted before casting his rifle upon the ground. "Stand up now, and yell as loud as you can."
With their arms raised, they stood almost as one, and in unison shouted: "I surrender, I surrender comrade!"
Before they could let forth a second cry of surrender, however, a bullet struck Artur, who collapsed to the ground.
"Artur!" Elsa screamed.
"ANNA!"
Hello everyone. I imagine you are probably quite confused as to what is going on right now. Well, all will be revealed. I confess that this take will have a lot of AU elements. I am a history major, and this story came to me some months back as a chance to play around with one of my favorite topics: the First World War. Rest assured, there will be romance, and its not all going to be about war. Stay tuned, and drop a review to let me know how you liked the opening act. Cheers everyone, and stay safe and healthy.