The Guardian
by Concolor44
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Chapter 12: First Contact
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24 June 1841, 8:10am
A calloused thumb packed tobacco into the bowl of a small clay pipe. The owner of that thumb then reached into a pocket for a match. Before he could strike it, though, another hand reached out and grabbed his wrist.
"Not now."
"Screw you, Alf. I need a smoke."
"Roald just got back. Village up ahead. That vile weed you like so well spreads its stench three hundred paces away. Don't warn 'em." He nodded in the direction they'd been traveling. "Once we take out the villagers, you can smoke all you want."
"Dammit." He stowed the pipe in his pocket with the matches.
One of the others of the group pulled Alf aside. "You still sure this is a good idea?"
The mercenary shrugged. "Stokes wants to spread chaos and mayhem, don't he? We're followin' orders, ain't we?"
"Stretchin' that point a mite thin, you ask me."
"Yeah, well, maybe that's why I didn't ask you."
"Still say we shoulda stuck with the main group."
"An' that's why you ain't the leader."
Roald trotted up. "Hey, Alf, looks like the Witch has been through here."
"Whaddaya mean?"
"She left a great big hunk of ice in the village."
"… Ice? It's June, fer God's sake!"
"And she makes magical ice, don't she? Ain't that what the General said? She's some kinda evil sorceress, an' the Duke wants us t' take 'er out."
"No, not kill 'er. Stokes said we're to catch her." He considered his options for a moment. "Think she's still there?"
"No sign o' riders. She's travelin' around with a bunch o' troops, ain't she?"
"Supposed t' be. She wouldn't stay by herself."
One of the others piped up with, "Let's just raid the village and get on with it."
"Reef yer sails, Bert." Alf turned to Roald. "What's the best, fastest way in?"
"This here path meets up with a sort of a road 'bout a hundred-fifty paces that way. We can ride in, straight as a stick, shoot the place up, be easy as catchin' lice off a whore."
Alf nodded. "Let's group up. Everybody got your pistols primed?"
The score of men answered in the affirmative.
They were shortly trotting toward the road.
Mrs. Olafsson stuck her head out the front door (it was the only door, but it did face the center of the village, so she called it the front door) and yelled, "Marda!"
A small, blonde head popped up next to the village well. "Yes, Momma?"
"You know where your brother is? He's supposed to be weeding the garden, and I don't see him anywhere."
"Ferdie went to the woods." She scratched at the earth with a twig, very glad of the fresh breath of cool air that accompanied the Sentinel.
"For the Lord's sake! Not again! That boy …"
"He said he was gonna catch a cony for dinner."
"Oh, he'll catch somethin', for sure. A good hidin'."
Marda sucked on her thumb, slightly worried for her brother. Momma didn't fool around when it came to discipline, though it didn't seem to be making much of an impression on the boy. She heard something then, a sort of rhythmic pounding, and peered around toward the east end of the village, squinting into the rising sun. Her eyes widened considerably. "Mooooommmmmmaaaa!"
"Marda! Run!"
The little girl pounded feet for her house as hard as she could go. Across the street, two other women opened their doors, stepped out, saw the approaching riders, and scurried back inside. Bars could be heard dropping into place.
Alf was a bit disappointed. Eight hovels didn't exactly make a village in his estimation. Still, there were bound to be a few things of value; family heirlooms, wedding bracelets, possibly some gold teeth. And it would be fun in any case. Maybe a few little girls …
Roald, riding beside him, said, "That chunk of ice is bigger than I thought. Why'd you think she left it there?"
"Don't know, don't care." He held his pistol up. "Just shoot something."
Closing the last few dozen paces to the village, they concentrated on the cottages … thus missing the shudder that went through the small mountain of ice. As the first four reached the out-yard of the nearest house and fired at it, they were unceremoniously swept off their mounts by something long, slick, white, and hard as iron that moved faster than any of them could imagine. All four hit the ground with multiple cracking, crunching sounds, and didn't get up.
The Sentinel stood, its six tree-trunk legs raising it another five ells off the ground, and the rest of its arms shot out. Five men were picked off their horses and flung high, high into the air, screaming shrilly. After coming back down, they didn't move either.
With their leader and his second-in-command very suddenly out of the picture, the remaining dozen men panicked. Most of them fired at the ice monster, but the thing just seemed to absorb the bullets. They did attract its attention, though.
One would think that something massing several times the bulk of an elephant would be cumbersome and slow. One would, however, be incorrect. The thing moved so quickly they could barely follow its motions, and then it was among them.
Most of the horses reared and bucked, trying to flee. Some few of the men agreed, and spurred them away with all haste. But long, long limbs of ice were faster. Those trying to escape got skewered, plucked off their horses, and tossed aside. In a few more seconds, it was over.
The Sentinel scanned its surroundings, detecting no more enemies. It glided down to the house at the end of the row, where the village Matron lived, and softly called, "Mrs. Hoffmann?"
The Matron opened the door and took a trembling step forward, looked up at the Sentinel. "Þurs? Is it safe?"
"I believe so. If you would, please choose some of your villagers to search the bodies and secure anything of value. Once they are done, I will handle the burials. You might also want to send someone after the horses that ran off. They could be quite valuable."
The Matron leaned against her doorpost and wiped at her brow with her forearm. "You … you saved our village."
"That is my privilege, Ma'am."
"Thank you! Thank you so much! They would have killed us all!"
"You may thank Queen Elsa. It is her fierce love for Arendelle that gives me life and power." It turned and trundled off up the street. "I'll just wait here until you say it's okay to get rid of the bodies."
"Yes. … Fine. That's … just fine." She shook her head and called back into the house, "Oy, Rufus!"
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Elsewhere …
Jerking in her saddle so abruptly that it startled her horse, Elsa had to take a moment to get it calm again.
Anna pulled up next to her. "Elsa? What's wrong?"
"… One of my Sentinels just … sent me a message."
"… What?"
"It was … not so much words as … images. It had to fend off a band of raiders."
Kristoff had ridden up at that point. "What's going on?"
"A band of raiders attacked … one of those villages. I'm … it was … the one we visited yesterday at noon. We took lunch there."
Anna nodded. "Okay. I recall which one that was. The Elder was a Matron?"
"Yes." Elsa closed her eyes, seeming to listen.
Captain Jorgensen came abreast of them. "Your Majesty, is something wrong?"
She listened for another couple of breaths before answering. "No. No, I wouldn't put it that way at all." Turning her gaze on the Captain, she continued, "I just got an image … a series of images … from one of the Sentinels I created yesterday. It defended the village from a band of about twenty brigands."
"My word!" So she can communicate with her creations over a distance! Incredible! "Well, that's good, isn't it?"
"That was the point, yes." She allowed herself a smile. "It wiped them out. The village took no hurt."
"What of the Sentinel?"
"Undamaged."
"I would say your plan is quite the success, then, yes?"
"So far. It just makes me all the more anxious to finish the job."
"We will be in Kalaad within the hour. Then we can turn back south and secure the eastern border."
"Perfect."
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10:06am
Captain Jorgensen had half a dozen men taking it in turn by twos to ride ahead and scout the terrain. He hadn't left his rear unguarded either, so as soon as the Marine who'd accompanied Sigurd came in sight, a quick double-blast on a horn alerted the party to his presence. They pulled up and waited until he joined them. "Captain!" He gave a quick salute and dismounted. "I'm afraid Fritz, here, is all in." His horse was, indeed, more than slightly lathered. "If someone could …"
The Captain pointed at a nearby Marine. "Olaf, see to him." Turning his eye back to the recent arrival (a Corporal by name of Vandred), he barked, "Report!"
"Sir, that cook died."
There was a bit of nearby mumbling. Captain Jorgensen held up a hand, stilling it. "May I assume that his death was in some way unusual?"
A quick recounting of the events of the previous day got him up to speed. Understanding instantly that the Queen needed to know of this, he trotted up to the royal group, the Corporal jogging after him.
Elsa was, as the Captain had anticipated, very upset by the nature of Sigurd's demise. "That doesn't sound like a natural death to me." Glancing at Kristoff, she asked, "Do you think he could have been the victim of a magical attack, the way Doran was?"
The big blond shook his head. "No way to be sure. But you're right, it sounds unnatural. It could have been poison."
"We'd been on the road nearly three days. Would a poison take that long to act?"
"Hmh. None I know of, now that you mention it." He rubbed at his chin, eyed the Captain, and shrugged. "If it was magic … how'd they get to him? And why him? He wasn't even a real cook, he just … washed … uh-boy." Gaining the Captain's attention, he asked, "Did that guy wash all the dishes? Like, every day?"
Not knowing the answer, the rest of the cook staff was soon called to stand before the Queen. Their discomfort over this was painfully obvious, as they kept making abbreviated bows and mumbled apologies. Elsa calmed them and asked, "What, exactly, were Sigurd's duties?"
The head cook (one of the Ole's) said, "All he ever did was wash the plates and pots, Yer Majesty. He was a lazy sunuva- … um. Yeah. Lazy."
"Did any of you watch him as he worked?"
They glanced at each other uneasily. "Um … no? He, uh, wasn't the easiest fella to get along with. Nobody wanted to work with 'im."
Kristoff asked, "How'd he get on your crew?"
No one had a good answer for that.
The royals huddled with Kristoff and the Captain, who offered, "Sounds like a plant. But who would have known?"
Anna huffed, "The Weasel has spies everywhere. I bet this Sigurd guy got the same gash thing that Doran did."
"Geas," Elsa corrected absently.
"Whatever. But what are we gonna do about it? Do you think the plates and pots are all poisoned or something?"
"My guess would be 'or something'," answered Captain Jorgensen. "But the men have been eating off them for three days now. If he did do something to them, it's a little late for countermeasures." Giving Elsa a look, he added, "That is, unless your magic can defeat it."
She threw her hands up. "I don't even know what he might have done! This is all speculation!"
Kristoff said, "Flame."
"What?"
"All the pots and pans are made of metal, right?"
The cooks nodded vigorously. "That's right! All copper or iron or tin."
He shook his head. "We won't be able to save the tin. It melts, so put anything made from it on the bottom. The rest of it … let's get a fire going."
It didn't take long. The Marines gathered deadwood and made a big pile. Ole piled all the cookware on, and lit the wood. Everyone waited until the fire got all the items nearly glowing hot. Then Kristoff said, "Okay, Elsa, now hit 'em with everything you've got."
"… I beg your pardon?"
"Freeze the fire. Get that pile of pots as cold as you possibly can, as quickly as you can."
"Okay. Why?"
He stared off at nothing for a bit, then gave a frustrated shrug. "I don't know. It just feels right."
The sisters looked at each other. Anna said, "What could it hurt? And how often do you really get to bust loose?"
Elsa had to grin at that. "Fine. You talked me into it. But everyone is going to need to move back." She pointed at a nearby hillock. "Get over behind that."
"But, Your Majesty," protested the Captain, "that will leave you out here unprotected!"
"Would you rather freeze solid?" She gestured at the forests. "There's nobody around. I'm perfectly safe. Now scoot."
They scooted. As soon as everyone was out of sight, Elsa concentrated on the huge bonfire, drew her magic into her center, condensed it, formed it into the weapon she'd need, and then launched it at the blaze with every minim of her will.
Streamers of smoke froze solid in the air. The ground turned to ice within two hundred paces. The very gases of the atmosphere liquefied and ran down the sides of the jagged blue-white monolith that sprang into being where the fire had been.
Then an evil streamer of dark crimson burst out the top of the unbelievably cold mound and shot to the zenith with a faint, keening scream. That scream was echoed, with rather more force, by most of the Marines.
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Elsewhere …
Commander General Stokes was sitting his horse, watching his men negotiate a swift, narrow stream, when an acid-coated lance of agony speared him between the eyes. He nearly fell off, but recovered before anyone noticed. He hoped.
The pain was gone nearly as suddenly as it had appeared, and he frowned in displeasure. One of his spells had just been undone! He sorted through the ones he had active, and his frown deepened. That scullery, the one that had died … his spell over the Witch's party was broken. Not just broken … unmade. Now, he would have no direct power over them. He would not be able to incapacitate them with a word. They'd have to do this the hard way.
Gnashing his teeth, he quietly promised to pay her back for the insult.
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"And you're sure – completely sure – that you're all right now?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. We are all fine. Every man of us felt it when you ended that … whatever it was. But the pain, though surprising, was short-lived. I assure you, we are all perfectly fit."
Elsa fussed over them for a bit longer, but Kristoff reassured her that she'd done the right thing. Once that was settled, she banished her ice, the cooks retrieved their wares, and the party went on its way.
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End Note: As most of you know, FFn has been experiencing a glitch for the last few days: no one could respond to reviews, or see them in the review list for the story. I've not had a chance yet to respond to your reviews, real life being a Right Bitch lately, so I think I'll do a public response to everyone at the beginning of the next chapter. I pray your indulgence in this.
