The Guardian

by Concolor44

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Author's Note: For those who complained about the last few chapters being short (you know who you are!) I hope this one better meets your expectations. ;-D

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Chapter 14: Ready, Fire, Aim!

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Arendelle's eastern border, 24 June 1841, 11:50pm

The picket line guard stopped Alex when he got to the treeline, but only long enough to check his credentials. Soon he was riding for the center of the camp.

Everyone in the mercenary force had come to understand that the Commander General didn't sleep much of late. His officers knew that he didn't sleep at all, and that worried most of them. Five of the men had served under him in Weselton's forces, before being dishonorably discharged. Their shock had been great when the same man who had stripped them of their rank and exiled them from their homeland got in touch with them to ask if they would be willing to lead a mercenary force against Arendelle. They wondered about his motives … but they couldn't argue with the gold.

Alex came up to General Stokes's tent and dismounted before speaking with his guards, who then ushered him in. Stokes glanced up from the map spread out on a folding table and quirked an eyebrow at the man, who saluted smartly. "Sir! I found their camp."

Quickly moving around the table, Stokes stopped right in front of Alex. "Where?"

"West by southwest, two hours' ride."

"Any streams between here and there?"

With only the tiniest possible hesitation, Alex answered, "No sir, not really. I didn't cross no water my horse couldn't jump."

Nodding slowly to himself, Stokes called to his guards. "Rouse the men. I want to be moving in half an hour."

They didn't even think about questioning him, merely saluted and ran.

Stokes frowned. "Where is your partner?"

"Sir, I'm sorry t' report that Private Marden is dead."

"I see. How did that come about?"

"He got throwed from his horse, sir." Alex had had plenty of time to come up with a plausible story.

"I see. And where did this happen?"

Alex knew that the mercenaries would be approaching the Queen's camp from a different direction, far from Lars's body. "At the edge of a ravine we was crossing, sir."

"Really."

The General's scrutiny was making Alex feel like fidgeting. He suppressed the urge. "Yes, sir."

"Did you see him fall?"

"No, sir. I was ridin' in front, and didn't know he got pitched till his horse went past me. I went back an' seen him down in th' ravine."

"Are you certain he was dead?"

"Went down an' checked, so, yeah. Sir."

Stokes knew the man was lying. Being lied to in this manner, by a sub-creature not even worthy of his notice, irritated him. He also knew that if a man lied about one thing, he'd lie about others. Walking over to the front of his tent, he released the pulls and closed it, then turned back to Alex and clasped his hands at the small of his back. "I believe it is time to revise your story."

"… Sir?"

Taking a step closer, Stokes said, "I don't know why you're lying, but I know you are. Now give me the truth. Did you, or did you not, find the Queen's camp?"

"Yes! Yes I did!"

"Did you lie to me about the water?"

"No! Really, there was only a couple or three little brooks!"

"And Private Marden?"

"What … what about him, sir?"

Ah, now we're getting somewhere. "Is he actually dead?"

"Oh! Yes, sir!"

"Where is his horse?"

"I don't know, sir. It disappeared when I went back t' look for him."

There was that stench of untruth again. The General's hand shot out and gripped Alex's throat, lifting the man off the ground. Alex scrabbled at the arm holding him.

"You have one final chance to give me the truth."

This, to put it mildly, Alex had not expected. He wheezed out, "Okay!" Stokes dropped him.

Recovering from his stumble, Alex massaged his throat and said, in a tiny voice. "He pulled a knife on me. Told me he was tired o' hearin' me bitch at 'im. I was afraid, so … my knife got him first."

After studying him for a few breaths, Stokes said, "Well, that's closer to the truth, at least." Thinking it over, he asked, "Where did you strike him?"

"Sir?"

"Where did your knife enter his body?"

"In … in his neck. Sir."

Something still wasn't quite right. The General's eyes grew dark … large … menacing. "Front or back?"

"… . . . … Back."

"Were you grappling at the time?"

Coming to grips finally with the realization that his Commander had abilities he'd not suspected, Alex merely shook his head.

"So you struck him from behind, while he was unaware?"

A tiny nod was his answer.

"What did you take from his body?

He blinked at the taller man for a moment, then sighed and pulled out the telescope and Lars's purse, laying them on the table.

"So you killed a man over a telescope."

"No! No, sir. I killed … killed him …" He sighed and slumped. "Killed 'im 'cause he needed killin'."

"That is not your judgement to make."

"He woulda killed me."

"Perhaps." He took another step, loomed over the man. Ordinarily he would simply incinerate such a base creature, but he needed sword fodder. "You will go back to your squad and get your equipment, then return here. You will ride beside me to direct us to the camp." Leaning down right into Alex's face, he continued, in a deadly calm, "And you will never attempt to lie to me again."

"No, sir!" he squeaked, "Never!"

"Speak of this to no one. If you do, I will know."

"Yes, sir! I-I mean, no, sir!" swallow "Whatever you say, sir!"

"Get out of my sight."

Alex ran.

Stokes motioned to one of his guards. "Go get Sergeant Rolfsson. Tell him to bring me all the bullets from his squad."

The man only hesitated a moment before saluting and trotting off into the darkness.

Soon, ran Stokes's thoughts, soon, I will have her in my power. Soon, I can restore my lost honor.

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Near Elsa's camp, 25 June 1841, 3:55am

Corporal Karl Stoltz of the Queen's Guard stood for a moment, staring out into the pre-dawn darkness. He turned to his companion and softly muttered, "You notice it just got real quiet?"

Private Tad Thane nodded. "Was just about to mention it."

"Put on your camouflaged cloak and head over to Uwe's position. Let him know. Then make for the Captain. I'll head to Sergeant Christian's squad."

Tad melted into the night.

It was a matter of less than a minute for Karl to make it to the base of the huge conifer that his Sergeant had chosen as his lookout platform. There was a thin, dark cord hanging down the side of the tree. Karl gave it two quick jerks. Eight seconds later a Guard dropped out of the branches. His voice so muted it barely carried the two paces between them, he said, "Report."

"Someone coming in from the north, no idea how many. Night noises suddenly stopped. Sent Tad to tell Uwe and the Captain."

The man nodded once. "Continue on to Lieutenant Jarlsson's position and inform them. You have flares, right?"

"Right."

"Keep 'em handy. If it is an attacking force, they can also be used to fire into their ranks and break up their assault patterns."

Karl's eyes widened slightly. "Huh. Hadn't thought of that. Heh, yeah, that'd kick the anthill, wouldn't it?"

"Most likely. And keep your sword handy."

"… You don't have to tell me that."

"Sorry. Habit."

§§

Corporal Uwe Narden knew of the approaching force before Tad got there, and had sent two of his men to let the Captain know, so Tad stayed with the squad.

Captain Jorgensen, painfully aware that there were brigands in the area, had taken every precaution in his arsenal to make triply and quadruply sure to protect his Queen. Admiral Naismith had gone over tactics until they were both convinced they'd exhausted every reasonable scenario … and a few that weren't so reasonable.

They had enlisted aid from Elsa's magic in several instances. Each Guard carried a saber, and she had gone to the effort of enchanting all of them. The flare launchers that Sergeant Christian had mentioned were the work of her hands as well. In addition, she had designed a different sort of Sentinel, roughly the size of a bear, but a great deal more dangerous. Ten of them surrounded the royal tent. With eighty of the Guard standing between them and danger from the north, and a small river behind them to the south, Elsa, Anna and Kristoff felt quite safe.

That was their first mistake.

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The mercenary forces were divided into three groups, with about fifty in each group. One group would attack from the north, then the second from the west. Once they'd fully engaged the Guard, the last group, Sergeant Rolfsson's contingent, and the one General Stokes accompanied, would storm down the mountain from the east and wipe them out in a flanking maneuver. He was eminently confident of victory, given the special bullets these men were to use. He couldn't wait to see the Witch's face …

Stokes's body had come with a lot of his memories, but the man's deep knowledge of tactics wasn't among them. So the one currently using it wasn't aware of a tongue-in-cheek military adage that wasn't really very tongue-in-cheek: No battle plan survives contact with the enemy.

In the first place, they hadn't planned on the Guard being fully aware of their approach. So when the first strike force galloped out of the woods, it was to meet a veritable hail of bullets. Fully half of them died in the first few seconds. The rest jumped (or fell) off their horses and found cover, then began returning fire. A few moments later something bright flew up over their heads and burst into a huge flower of glowing ice, bathing their positions in light and marking them as targets. Some of them fired at it, but that had no effect. The Guard, aided by the light, began picking them off.

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Of course Captain Jorgensen had awakened Elsa as soon as he determined they were going to be attacked. She had helpfully provided them with bulwarks and breastworks of hardened ice, giving her men at once excellent cover and a convenient rest for their rifles to improve their aim. And it was she that had launched the 'flare' over the attackers.

The Captain turned to her. "The flanking force ought to be showing up any second, and they won't be offering themselves as easy targets. Are you ready?"

Elsa didn't think he could see her trembling, but nodded a few times to help mask it anyway. Carefully keeping her voice as steady as she could, she answered, "As soon as you think the timing is right." She took her sister's hand, and Anna gave her a quick squeeze.

"Stand ready."

Kristoff, a large bag of rocks slung across each of his broad shoulders, hovered protectively over the women, eyes darting around. "Elsa, could you put another of those flare-flowers over that way?"

The Captain held up a hand. "Not quite yet. We want them exposed at the right time, but if there's already light, they'll just go around."

Elsa was scared. She hated being scared. She'd spent three-fifths of her life being scared, and had never grown even slightly accustomed to it. After her coronation, after the Thaw, she'd thought her troubles were over. Now she berated herself for her naiveté. The constant gunfire grated her nerves raw and hurt her ears, making it difficult to concentrate. But when the Captain finally gave her the signal, she was able to throw up a second flare … and loose her guardians.

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Originally, ex-Lieutenant Thad Hollingsworth had considered the General's plan quite sound … especially his part in it. If things went even mostly right, his force would be in little actual danger. The gunfire would easily cover the sound of their galloping approach, and they'd be upon the camp before the Arendellians knew what was happening, shoot things up, and withdraw to the immediate safety of the wood where they could snipe the leftovers, keeping their attention on him and away from the General's attacking force.

Now? Now, he was cursing himself for a fool. Just because the Queen was young and untried in battle didn't mean her military would be. And they had quickly proven themselves to be competent in the extreme. They'd employed the Queen's magic, working it into their defenses, and the first taste of that (a huge, glowing flower that burst into brilliance in the air just above the trees) had left him and most of his men nearly blinded. They milled around, trying to calm their spooked horses, when the Guard began sniping them … at least, he thought it must be the Guard. They seemed to be using some different sorts of weapons. The ex-Lieutenant knew his firearms, and the weird, ringing reports weren't like anything he'd ever heard before. In sprays of blood and flying limbs, men fell to earth all around him, and he wheeled his mount, trying to get them to rally to him. He never got the chance. Suddenly there were … things among them.

The creatures were some five or six paces long and dead white, boasting massive, crushing jaws, long limbs ending in needle-like talons, and a pair of short, wickedly-curved blades coming off each shoulder. And they were fast. Hellishly fast. Men were dropping every few seconds, and many of those left rode away in a panic, bending all their energies to get as far from the fight as possible. The Lieutenant spurred his horse forward, aiming his pistol at one of the lethal beasts and popping off two shots into its center body mass.

All that did was get its attention. It spun and leapt, carrying him completely off his horse, and landing on him hard, breaking several ribs. He didn't really have time for the pain to register before jagged teeth of ice met through his neck.

§§

"Sir Bjorgman, I think you can stop now. They're either retreating or dead."

Kristoff threw two more deadly rocks and growled, "I like 'dead' better. You don't have to worry about them coming back."

Captain Jorgensen chuckled. "After the hand we just dealt them, I doubt they'll stop running until they reach the Baltic Sea." He watched as Elsa's ice-creatures chased down a few stragglers, smiling in grim satisfaction. "This is exactly the sort of outcome we want. Most of the attacking force dead, and those few left carrying stories about the fight to every tavern between here and Moskva. I'll warrant we'll hear …" He turned abruptly, scanning the mountain to the east, then shouted, "There are more of them! Form ranks east!" Quickly locating Elsa, he strode over and said, "Can you get your beasts around to the east? We've got …" Then he frowned. "Your Majesty?"

She was a shaking mass in Anna's arms. Being in contact with her creations, directing their movements, meant that she vicariously experienced every death, every dismemberment, every sliced and spurting artery, every gout of blood from between crushing jaws. It had nearly undone her. Anna looked up at the Captain and shook her head. "You and Kristoff are going to have to handle the rest of it." Stroking her sister's head to try to calm her sobbing, she added, "I don't think Elsa's gonna be up to much for a while."

The Captain didn't really like that answer, but he was nothing if not flexible. The first two arms of the pincer attack had been quite thoroughly crushed, and he knew how good his men were. He assigned six of them to watch the west and north for any funny stuff, and got the rest of his Guard positioned to repel the next wave. Kristoff shouldered in among them, a pair of rocks ready in each hand.

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General Stokes (or at least what currently looked like General Stokes) listened with mounting anticipation to the heavy gunfire coming from just the other side of a spur of rock. He pointed to Alex and said, "You'll lead the charge. And be sure the Queen stays alive."

This was the very last thing the mercenary wanted to do. He was more than a little afraid that it would literally be the very last thing he ever did. People in the lead tended to get shot. But charging the enemy guns, especially after they'd been significantly reduced and were otherwise distracted, held a much higher chance of leaving him alive than he'd get from disagreeing with the General. He'd figured out that much.

They were divided into five groups of eleven, and would sweep down on the camp in an arrowhead formation, shooting as they came. That would help to confuse any retaliatory fire, and give them the best chance of killing what remained of the Guard. The General would ride immediately behind the lead group. Alex watched him for a minute, waiting for his signal …

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"Elsa? Can you walk?"

The Queen stumbled laboriously to her feet, eyes unfocused, whispering, "So much blood … so much … so much blood …"

"Let's get you to the south end of the camp, up here by the river."

Clouded blue eyes met Anna's. "What?"

"I want you out of the field of fire. Come on." They trotted down to the bank, away from where Captain Jorgensen was directing the defenses, in the lee of a large boulder. "There. Now, Elsa, look at me."

"… Okay."

"Can you make us a wall of ice? I want it here, on the west side, just in case one of 'em tries to snipe us. This big rock has our back, but …"

It didn't take much effort, and Elsa soon had them protected. She placed a short wall to the north side of the boulder, giving them some cover, but allowing them to see over it if they wanted. Then Elsa collapsed against her sister and let the tears come. "I killed them."

"I know. And not to make light of it, but … better them than you."

"It's different. Anna, it's … not like anything else I've … I could see each one as he died. So much blood. Didn't know there was that much blood inside anyone. So much …"

Anna stroked the light blonde hair and made soothing noises. "The Captain and Kristoff will take care of the fight now. You just rest. I'm tired, so I know you must be tired, too."

Elsa let her eyes drop shut. "And the guns are so loud."

"They are, aren't they?"

As if revealing a prophecy, two dozen rifles spoke, then two dozen more. Elsa curled into a little ball and covered her ears.

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Stokes's thoughts went something like this: My first force surprised them and cut down a lot of them before they could respond. It developed into a fusillade of standoffs, until my second force came at them from the side. That was the second big volley I heard. Now they're decimated and back to a potshot every second or two. Time to attack. He gave Alex the signal.

All the mercenaries had their firearms in one hand, the reins in the other as they boiled out of concealment and galloped down the slope, firing as soon as they thought they had a target.

Alex immediately realized that something was wrong. In the first place, the Arendelle Guard were protected behind what looked like a wall of white stone. How had they managed to build such a thing for a temporary camp? The exploding bullets the General had supplied them with blew decent-sized chunks out of it … but it seemed abnormally thick. It wasn't going down. In the second, he saw that the field outside that wall was thickly littered with the corpses of his fellow soldiers of fortune. In the third – and this was by far the most important – he realized that he was not riding toward a dispirited, disorganized, shot-up remnant. No, he was riding toward some five dozen rifles aimed straight at him.

Then half an ounce of lead tore through his neck, exploding the carotid artery and pulverizing two vertebrae, and he stopped realizing anything ever again.

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"Rank One, fire! … Rank Two, fire! … Rank Three, fire! … Rank Four, fire!"

Just like that, the mass of brigands descending upon the camp turned into a melee of severed body parts and screaming men and stumbling horses.

"Rank One, fire! … Rank Two, fire! … Rank Three, fire! … Rank Four, fire!"

The assault ground to a falling, bloody halt as those few left sought shelter behind trees and rocks.

"Ranks One and Two, form up at the wall! Fire at will!" Then, in a more conversational tone, the Captain said, "Rank Three, your flares, if you would."

A dozen bright stars of glowing ice arced up out of the camp and hung in the sky over the slope to the east, slowly descending. The fire rate from the men at the wall nearly doubled as their targets became clear.

Someone among the brigands hollered, "Retreat! Retreat!"

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Commander General Stokes stared in mounting rage as his forces were mowed down by a decidedly not dispirited and not heavily wounded Arendelle Guard. How can this be? What went wrong? The plan was … It was then that he noticed the icy breastworks, liberally pocked with impact marks, but still plenty strong. The Winter Witch!

He lost his temper then. With a cry of utter rage, he spurred his horse toward the camp. I'll kill you all myself!

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Kristoff had been holding back, letting the Guard live up to their name, when he spotted an ornate uniform barreling down the slope, waving a saber and screaming incoherent insults. That would be the one in charge, he figured. Time to put a stop to this. He pulled a pair of rocks from his bag, judged the distance, and let fly.

One of the supersonic missiles struck the General just below the sternum, shredding the descending aorta and breaking his spine cleanly in half. The other took the top of his head off. The impacts knocked him several paces back from his horse, where he landed in a bloody heap.

Smirking to himself, Kristoff looked for another target … but then his eyes jerked back to the dead man … who apparently wasn't dead yet. That's not possible!

Stokes had to use some of his extra power to force the severely damaged form crookedly to its feet. He couldn't stop now! He had to …

Two more rocks tore through him, one in his upper chest, one ripping off his right arm. He spun around, staggering, but stayed on his feet. One step down the hill. Another. A third …

Both femurs exploded as the rocks pulverized bone and gristle. He pitched forward on his face without a sound.

Kristoff watched him for a few seconds. Then every hair on his back stood erect as the 'dead man' began to glow with a dim, red light. Then it began to smolder. Then it burst into flame, and the flame climbed and climbed and climbed.

"Thor's Beard! That's a Fire Elemental!" He sprinted toward where he'd last seen Elsa and Anna, spotting their little redoubt, and ran at them screaming, "Elsa, make an ice bridge! You have to get to the other side of the river, now!"

Anna popped her head up. "What are you yelling about?" Then she saw the still-growing column of flame and gasped. It was … looking at her.

Kristoff leaped over the wall and pulled Elsa to her feet. "Ice bridge! Now! We have to put running water between us and him!"

A deafening, high-pitched scream from the flaming thing rent the air, and the Queen gaped stupidly at it. It now had recognizable limbs, and had taken a long step in their direction.

"Elsa!" He shook her. "If you don't want all of us to die, make an ice bridge RIGHT NOW!"

She blinked, her gaze darting from the fiery monster to her sister to the river. Raising one hand, she started constructing a narrow bridge for them to cross on.

Calling to Anna to follow, he picked up Elsa and ran out onto the icy surface.

§§

That which had been General Stokes scanned the camp, zeroing in on Elsa, and his rage mounted to heights inconceivable by mortal minds. All this was her fault. She was responsible for this defeat. But no matter, he would have her, she couldn't run, couldn't …

He noticed the river.

NOOOOOOO!

§§

The people of Arendelle are a hardy folk, and the Guard represents the best of them. They knew magic existed even before they got a Queen who could conjure ice ex nihilo, and were conversant with all the various legends and creatures thereof.

This pretty much stumped them, though.

Captain Jorgensen saw what Kristoff was doing, saw that the Queen was headed across the river, put two and two together and made up his mind. Grabbing a Sergeant, he said grimly, "We have to buy the Queen some time."

The man looked at him, then back at the approaching nightmare, then nodded. "Don't think bullets'll do much to it, though."

"No. Likely they won't. But the flares might."

The Sergeant immediately started barking orders, getting his men into a ragged line between the Queen and the monster. As soon as he had them in place, he called, "Fire flares!"

A score of bright-white balls raced toward the thing, impacting it over much of its … well, its body. They immediately hissed into steam, but it did make the Elemental recoil.

The Captain knew that each flare would only fire three times, and they'd already used several. He glanced back at Elsa. They were maybe halfway across. "Fire flares!"

This time the flame-fiend dodged most of the missiles, and kept coming.

"Concentrate on its middle! Wait till it's closer!" Three more long strides brought it right up to the edge of the camp. "Fire flares!"

At this distance, they all hit. The thing thrashed around, and gave vent to another awful screech.

"Draw your swords! Defend your Queen!" He peered over his shoulder. The royals were almost to the opposite bank.

Secretly, the Captain hoped this would work better than the flares. They, after all, were only meant to create light, even if they were ice magic. But the enchantments Elsa had placed on the swords were of an entirely different magnitude. "Men! Listen carefully. Strike once and then retreat. Don't let it get any closer to hitting you than you have to. If it swings at you, meet its attack with your sword. You know your footwork. Use it!" Then he drew his own blade and sprinted at the Elemental.

But the thing had evidently had its fill of ice magic. Instead of striking at the oncoming soldiers, it drove both fists into the ground, knocking most of the men off their feet and shattering the ice wall.

From the earth, flames erupted everywhere. A few of the Guard were caught in the blasts and died screaming. The rest avoided the attack and pressed on. A very few actually got in a hit, and if they'd thought the thing had been loud before … this sonic cacophony nearly bowled them over.

Where each saber hit, a tiny portion of the creature turned to ice. It wasn't simply a chunk of ice hitting it … no, it lost a bit of itself in the process. Wildly shrieking, it began swinging at the men.

The Captain noted that Elsa had reached the opposite bank and had dispelled her ice bridge. Kristoff was still carrying her, and was making rapid progress into the woods. He called to his men, "Retreat! Retreat! Split up and head into the trees."

"But, sir …"

"Don't argue! We can't beat this thing, and the Queen is safe for now. We need to live so we can find her and protect her.

"… Yes, sir."

The retreat was about as orderly as it could be under the circumstances, and the field was soon empty of living men (the mercenaries, those few that were left, had scattered as soon as they spotted the fire being).

The Elemental, though, stood at the edge of the water, screaming its impotent rage to the sky. Soon, though, it calmed down, peered east and west along the river, and headed purposefully upstream. It would find a mortal body it could steal, then find a place to cross.

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End Note: Congrats to those of you who had already connected all the dots (Kristoff's comment about why Anna would think there were only two intelligent races being the first one; the logical assumption that if there were Earth Elementals, there would be other types as well being the next; and the fact that the possessing spirit used fire being another). Each of you gets a virtual chocolate-macadamia cookie!

So ... now Elsa & the gang are separated from the Guard. Where will they go? How will they handle the Elemental? Why is it after her in the first place? Time will tell...