Chapter Five: Snowshoes Optional
"You don't need 'em, sir, trust me. It ain't that bad." He'd said to me, when I wanted to purchase a pair of snowshoes.
If I ever see that scrawny little shit again, I'm going to split him in half and do a jig on his corpse.
'Not that bad' was four feet of thick snow, gale force winds, blinding snowstorms, and creatures of darkness waiting beneath the thick layer of white covering the land. I'd bundled up as best as I could. Two thick wool tunics, under a leather shirt, covered by mail, which in turn was covered by an Argent Crusade tabard. And over all of that, I had my white bear-skin cloak. A black scarf was wrapped about the lower half of my face, over which I wore by helm. In short, I could barely move, let alone see, and I was stuck in the middle of a torrential blizzard.
I was part of a column of Argent Crusade soldiers, and Death Knights of the Ebon Blade. We were en route to the gates of the Ice Crown citadel, where a siege was already in progress.
We had been ambushed a handful of times over the three days we had been marching. Fortunately, we had suffered only minor casualties. The Death Knights were probably the only reason we were still alive. I have no problem admitting that I'm damn good with a weapon, and the truth of that statement is proven by the fact that I'm here to tell this story. But Death Knights are so much more than just warriors. Having magic, as fell and dark as it is, to call upon makes a huge difference on a battlefield. That's not to say I was comfortable around them. They were partly responsible for the death of Lordaeron, and countless numbers of its citizens.
But they seemed sincere about helping, and many of the Knights accompanying us were as bitter as I was.
In the far distance, even through the blinding snow, I could see the black outline of the citadel, like the blade of a black sword, murdering the sky. I estimated it would be another two days before we reached the Ashen Verdict siege camp.
If the weather got worse…
"Halt!" The man on point had to scream to be heard over the howling wind. We stopped, and I walked up towards the front of the column. Well, perhaps walk is not the appropriate word. Stagger is more fitting.
I reached the head of the column to find the point man talking with a hulking figure in black plate. His name, from what I remembered was Steiner von Pestis. Despite holding no real rank in the Ebon Blade, he was intimidating, as were all of his kind. Among his comrades, he had acquired the nickname 'Hammer of the Ebon Hold'. It seemed fitting. Steiner's face was blunt, and strong. The man was muscled like an ox. Armor blacker than night covered his frame, engraved with images of death and destruction. Across his back was a massive glaive, brutal and simplistic in look.
Compared to Steiner, the Death Knight I had met back in the Third War was but a child.
"…movement, sir."
"You thought. But I do not see anything, nor do I feel anything. We keep moving."
The point man scared witless by the Death Knight in front of him.
"What's going on?" I said, walking up beside the two. Steiner glared at me. The point man looked at me gratefully. He took a breath, looked at Steiner, and then quickly diverted his gaze to me.
"I saw movement over that-a-way—" He pointed forward and a little to the left of the column. "Not sure what it was. Just black shapes."
I removed my helmet, the edges of my ears stinging against the wind, and my eyes tearing up instantly. I squinted, but could make out nothing in the whirl of white. But we had been ambushed before, and though it was probably nothing we couldn't handle, no one wanted any unnecessary losses. Except maybe the Death Knights, who didn't care enough about individual life to bother with precautions. One trait they kept from their service to the Lich King.
"I don't see anything. Perhaps we should make camp here, and post sentries. It will be dark soon, and we won't be able to travel at night." I held no real rank. I wasn't even a member of the Argent Crusade, just an adventurer signed on to help fight the good fight. The only reason I wore a tabard was so no one killed me by accident.
"You do not command here, human."
"Then who does? You? You couldn't command your way out of a paper bag. People like you only know how to fight. You don't know how to make decisions." I snarled in response, though I'm sure the vitriol was lost amongst the howling wind.
The actual commander had been killed on the first day out, during one of the ambushes. Because we were so lucky, he happened to be one of only five dead men.
"And who do you suggest, human? Yourself? I have heard of you, some of the others talk at night. You're nothing more than a servant, and grunt. If I have no skill to lead, what makes you better? From the way it sounds, we are no different, you and I."
I won't lie. I wanted to sink my axe into his skull, and split it like a rotten watermelon. I wanted to pull his fingernails out, skin him alive, and dump his skinless body in a vat of saltwater. For three days, I had put up with that bastard. Steiner von Pestis was arrogant, hot headed, brainless, and had the most abrasive personality of anyone I've ever met.
"Sure. Personally, I'd be happy with anyone but you. I know your kind doesn't care about sacrifice or life, but I like my head fixed firmly on my body, as I'm sure the rest of these boys here do. I don't mind dying here, but not in some pointless ambush. I'd rather waste it where it can make a difference." I stabbed a finger towards the black shape of the Citadel on the horizon.
"But no, I'd like to think I have a firm grasp of tactics, and I've advised a few battles in my day. Let me ask you a question…friend."
Steiner waited, his arms crossed. He had that sneer on his face, that look of superiority. The same look the first man I killed had. Ah, good memories.
"What were you before you died?"
The sneer fell from his face. He spat a gobbet of black ichor and looked away. "A thief."
That sneer crossed the distance between us, and landed on my face, albeit more disproportionate. "And I am a soldier. I've been killing since before my balls dropped. Who has more experience?"
Instead of replying, Steiner spat another wad of thick black fluid at my feet and stalked away. "Fine. Do what the commander says." Even though I was frozen solid, my veins felt like they were pumping fire.
The point man looked at me, and I gave him the affirmative. He walked away, passing the order along the column. Within an hour, we had a decent camp set up. As soon as my tent was set up, I collapsed on my bedroll and fell into an uneasy sleep.