Glass Winter | Chapter XXIV

The trees induced both a storm of despair and sublime awe in Sevt, brewing quietly in his chest like an encroaching thief in the night. Their surfaces shimmered in frozen sheens as he limped past with a light in one hand and a crutch under his other arm. Overhead, through a coniferous canopy cloaked in snow, their people’s guiding lights slowly danced across the skies. Even without his lantern staff, Sevt could see far enough with their glow, the woods suspended in an eternal twilight.

And somewhere in that darkness, Sowne waited for him.

He knows that I will come and see him sooner or later. He knows that my people seek vengeance, and that some seek blood.

While all that Sevt sought was a pragmatic solution, anything that would prevent them taking Sowne’s life. Enough had been lost to this place, and under his watch they would not sustain its evil with another drop.

“He’s only a servant.”

If the Smiling Bastard was the least of the enemy’s force, what terrible things awaited them?

Ever since the commune denizens departed from the lakeshore in search of the glass castle per the dancing lights, their rations only depleted. They could drink the snow, but they could not eat the trees or the stony earth. That was all that remained this far north, and even so they were blessed. The ironwood groves and forests they navigated while passing through the highlands’ valleys were coated in a brittle layer of ice, and after shaving the top layer of bark they could consume what laid beneath, however unsustaining it was.

Despite this, they had returned to the diet that Sowne had enforced in his final days as chief. And the survivors were not satisfied.

“We’ve survived enough.”

They wished to return to the lake, and if circumstances did not change Sevt feared the worst. After they finally had a chance at escape, however distant it was. For all he knew, despite the sublimity in his chest, their journey was only beginning, but he did not wish to believe it. That sublimity alone was proof of something higher that was guiding them, and rewarding their faith.

Sowne came into view.

“You’ve shed your cloak.”

Sevt nodded, “The furs I wore underneath keep me warm enough. And you’re still wearing yours.”

“Yes. Because I’m not dead yet.”

“No, not yet.” Sevt kept a few paces distance.

A great length of rope encircled the tree trunk three times, restraining Sowne’s arms and keeping him on the ground, but his legs, despite having binds of their own, could knock a cripple’s staff away just the same as a free man’s.

“Your value stems from what information you can provide. And your value determines your life.”

“Oh, is that so?” Sowne nodded, “Your people seem very adamant about my execution. How will you spin this for them?”

“I’ve already reminded them of what may happen should your blood be spilled. They do not wish to face it again.”

“Hmm. And that’s why you’ve forgotten your cloak? Bad reminder of who you once were.”

That I cannot say. Nobody but God. If He truly exists.

“I do not wish to waste either of our time so I’ll get straight to it. What do you know about Eron? Why did he betray you at such a critical moment?”

The questions disarmed Sowne, fogging his eyes with confusion.

“You’re curious about Eron? Out of everyone that opposed me during that scene?”

“He was on your side, and then he was not. What’s the secret there?”

“I hear that he’s gone missing…” Sowne sighed, fogging the night air with his breath, “He’s the kind of man who only looks out for his own survival. I’ve good reason to believe he murdered Quin.”

Now Sevt was disarmed, as if the former chief had landed a blow in spite of his restraints, and it cut deep. It made Sevt’s blood boil.

He’s trying to provoke you. Do not give him what he needs.

“Your tongue is poisonous, dark eyes. I will have it removed if you do not cooperate; your options are thin, I remind you.”

“Go fuck yourself. You may conflate me with evil but I’ll have you know that, unlike Eron, I never lie.”

“So you have proof of Quin’s death at his hands?”

“Good reason, but no hard proof. Nothing but coincidences.”

“Why mention a suspicion and not a fact?”

“Because I know that he did it. He may have evaded my inquiries at the time, and successfully at that, but there can be no doubt now. He must be found, and I must be the one to take his life.”

This is how you turned the commune against Malcolm.

But Sevt could not deny that he respected the mind play.

“He betrayed you, so now you’re grasping at straws,” he said. “That’s what this is.”

“You don’t have to believe me. I wouldn’t believe you.”

“I gave you the chance to prove your worth and you’re using it to flee.”

“This is as much Eron’s mess as it is my own. Except, contrary to your underlings, I’m not seeking vengeance, only justice.” He shrugged, shaking his head, “Do you think I’m proud of being fooled? Failing to realise that he never answered to anyone other than himself? He’s a survivor, and he made me believe a demonic threat was at large in the commune, targeting Quin and possibly Drummond. Everyone is born for something, I was born to lead, you were not. Your incompetence is going to cost us. At least be savvy enough to set me free so I can end that bald bastard’s life, then the burden of my sacrifice is no longer yours.”

“Eron is no threat to us, but you still are. You may have been blind once, but I’m not so foolish.”

Sowne was studying Sevt. At first, he thought his weaknesses were being sought out. At first. Sowne’s look was one of curiosity.

“Well that’s all I have to offer. So why don’t you just kill me?”

“We cannot afford to kill you, or the others. We do not know what your blood will draw to us.”

“But you want to kill me. Don’t bother lying, I can see it in your eyes. You’ve killed before, and that look doesn’t fade away.”

“You should not be so bold in your assumptions.”

“And neither should you,” Sowne shifted his seat on the earth before resting his head against the tree. “I always acted in the best interests of bastards like you, until they turned into bastards. Never once did I act out of my own self-interest. No, my friend. Every decision I made ensured that the most of us survived with the least number of casualties, though they may have been inevitable. You question my methods, and I tell you stuff it where it belongs.”

“Your methods led to the deaths of over half the commune. What good were you as a chief with the blood on your hands?”

“You think you understand what my position entailed? Go on then. Enlighten me on what you have learned in the few days since your ascension.”

“I put the people first in a moment of crisis. I had a sled and the resources to flee on my own, and I risked my life saving the commune from the beast your sins had manifested.”

“Where did you get that sled? I’ve been scratching my head with hands that can’t reach trying to understand.”

“Velour.” Sevt declared.

I would be dead if it weren’t for him. He thought, remembering Renoir’s swift murder.

“Him and Malcolm.”

“Right. So you’re good, and I’m bad.” Sowne shook his head, “That easy, huh?”

“We’re moving now. Thanks to Malcolm, and thanks to myself. Your crimes will not be forgotten but punished in accordance with a majority vote.”

“You seem to forget, Sevt, that this mess began when you expected shelter and mercy showing up at the commune. You were never one of us. You remember the judgement I passed when I learned how you used Quin? And now you proclaim your altruistic intent in seeing us through the winter night.”

“Indeed. Whether you were wrong or right in your judgement, I had the time to think on my motives and the methods to reach them. As you will now.”

We’re getting nowhere throwing accusations and pointing fingers. I have to give him one more day.

As Sevt was turning to leave he heard Sowne hawking, and felt a wet glob splat on his neck.

“Without men like me, you’d be dead in the ground.”

He turned around to face the prisoner, the light of the staff rippling across the dried blood on his face.

“When the hamlet turned on itself,” Sowne continued, “I led the counterattack, while the people who would make up the commune fled. I didn’t know if I’d be following them, but I survived, against odds that had me facing three men at a time. That’s who you’ve bound, and where we’re going that’s what you’ll need.”

“Do not try and sway me with your supposed virtue in violence. You stay where you are, and if you are lucky, we may even enter the glass castle together.”

“You don’t get it, do you, Sevt? How do you expect to lead with your foolishness?”

He’s still trying to get a rise out of me.

“I haven’t heard a sound in these woods since you tied me to this tree,” Sowne pulled at his restraints then relaxed. “No birds of prey, no hulking predators, nor their meek game. And I shouldn’t be surprised. Until Malcolm’s miracle, whatever it was that he managed to do, these lands were ravaged by an unbroken storm. I don’t know where it is that we’re heading, or how long it will take to get there, but food isn’t exactly a luxury we have anymore, and the survivors will soon begin to realise this. You must be on the lookout, now more than ever. The enemy is watching and always prowling. You are a godly man, I trust?”

“No, I would not say that I am.”

Sowne titled his head, “After everything that you’ve seen? I understand mortal doubt, it’s part of why we’ve fallen from grace, but goodness…. Faith certainly is a contradictory practice.”

~~~~~

Sevt woke up already reaching for his dagger after being shaken by the shoulder.

“Somebody’s arrived at the camp,” a man’s voice could be heard in the gloom, “they’re asking for food and shelter.”

“Somebody we left behind at the commune?”

“No. We’ve never seen these men before.”

Cruel curiosity.

Sevt searched the surrounding snow for his crutch and staff, opened the lantern, and struggled up from the ground, shaking off sleep as he limped after the messenger. All of the fires had gone out save for the sentries’ torches flickering in the distance. Everyone else was still asleep.

When he reached the edge of their encampment, Sevt felt just as staggered as the watchmen looked when he saw the four strangers standing a safe five paces away. They were all dressed in furs, like the commune, but not a single face was familiar; a kindly man with a shock of dark hair accompanied a taller, beady-eyed individual with a shaven head, a woman in a shawl, and a shorter man, eyes to the ground, with long fiery hair and beard.

Bair, now wielding Sowne’s sword after Gar Darron had refused to take it himself, had also been awoken, standing ready by Sevt’s side. Gar Darron arrived shortly after him.

“Greetings, travellers.” Sevt intended to be as cordial as required, “It’s not often we encounter others like us in a waste such as this.”

“Imagine our surprise,” the kindly man’s eyes glistered in the light of Sevt’s staff, “until now, we had not encountered another soul save for our desperate four. And we have struggled for so long in this Hell that neither of one of us can recall what we were punished for, or who we were in our mortal years.”

“Neither can I, and I haven’t been condemned to this place for long, unlike the rest of my people.” With the mantle of the beast no longer on his shoulders, Sevt’s dirk would be clearly visible to the four strangers, “I speak for them. How can we be of help?”

“Could you provide us with shelter?” Asked the kindly man, “Some food, perhaps?”

“There’s little to go around,” Bair stepped forward, revealing Sowne’s sword from its scabbard. “Unfortunately.”

“Ah… that is unfortunate.”

“How did you come to be here?” Asked Sevt.

Surely, they did not cross the ringwoodite sea.

“We’ve been wandering these wastes for years,” said the kindly man, “searching for the glass palace. Every night, without fail, our company dreams of both its splendour and terror. For not all who seek its crystal battlements will be absolved. This, our prophet Disarei, has seen time and again, and she has never been wrong in her visions.”

“What do you mean when you say that not everyone can be absolved?” Sevt looked to the prophet, a lean woman with meek eyes and thin lips, “Is there a test that awaits us? A trial?”

“Don’t get your smalls in a twist. The bitch is always right when she isn’t wrong.” Their rugged, beady-eyed companion whacked her upside the head, much to Bair’s dismay.

Sevt ordered the mason to step back after he fully unsheathed his sword, and Bair obeyed. Disarei gave no indication of pain despite the force of her companion’s hand, gazing up at Sevt instead with wide, starry eyes. Her thin lips curled into an almost unnatural smile.

“Whenever Disarei is right, she is right.” Said the kindly man, “And she recognises the errors in her false visions, and learns from them accordingly. Trust me, sirs, she has saved our lives on occasions too many to count on both hands.”

“By a hair.” The rugged man stared down Sevt, “We’re not here to dupe you, so I’ll say it straight. We’re cold, hungry, and tired. Try living out of the ground for two fucking years. Give us what you can spare, and we’ll be on our way. Might even see you at the glass attraction, if the thing really exists.”

“And now we’re blessed enough to discover the truth.” The kindly man raised his hands, admiring the heavens. “It’s a miracle, the return of the lights. A gift for every soul. We mean you no harm. If anything, my friend here is just as afraid of you as you are of us. Please, we do not intend to stay long. Allow us to break our fast and to exchange stories, and we’ll be moving on.”

Bair was one provocation away from advancing with his sword, and Gar Darron was just as on guard. Disarei’s smile made the skin on Sevt’s arms crawl, and the fourth companion’s silence grew louder by the minute, made stranger by his unwillingness to meet any of the commune’s eyes.

“You will have to forgive us, should we refuse. We understand your privation, but as chief, after what our people have been through, I cannot risk inviting you to our fire.” Sevt did not intend to dance around the decision, even if his words made a blunt impression.

The beady-eyed companion was baring his teeth, however slightly. The kindly man gave a resigned sigh.

“I see. You have had your share of the occult, have you not?”

“We would not be in Hell if we hadn’t.”

“Indeed. Never was a truer thought spoken aloud.”

Even in disappointment his kindliness was sickly and tart.

How has a man of his disposition survived for so long?

“We are running low on supplies ourselves,” Sevt went on. “Havel, inspect our stock. Provide these four with as much as we can spare, and we will bid them on their way. Neither of our parties knows how far we still have to follow the dancing lights.”

A taciturn man, the whiskered Havel went off to fulfil the order. Bair approached the chief, pulling him aside.

“Sevt. Is this wise, what you’re doing?”

“Would you have wanted them to turn us away if we were the ones deprived?”

“We do not know who or what they are. You were not there when we brought Cara and Soren in from the cold.”

“They did not offer to sup with us and leave right after. These companions would need to be more insidious to raise suspicion.”

“And yet you’re not admitting them either.”

Truly, because I do not know what to believe.

Havel returned with a deerskin bindle, already full, and offered it to the kindly man, who accepted it with a bow.

“A thousand thanks. Your generosity will surely not be forgotten by all that is governed and governs us mortals.”

“This is how you treat outsiders?” Asked the beady-eyed companion.

No answer followed. He shortly resumed.

“We ask you kindly for shelter, for one day only, and you turn us away. We didn’t ask to join your people, only for food and rest, and you spit in our face with your measly grace.”

“Nobody’s spitting,” said Sevt. “Others might have turned you away without compromise. I’m not like the others.”

“Aren’t you?” The companion raised his brow, “Remember your sins when your judgement comes. You’ll be spitting then.”

“Is that a threat?” Gar Darron asked.

“Let it be whatever you want it to be.”

The kindly man cast an apologetic but thankful glance at the chief before following his tall companion and Disarei. The fiery-haired man remained, staring at the ground.

“Bracken!”

He did not respond to the beady-eyed companion, shambling towards Sevt and the sentries who drew their weapons in an instant.

“Bracken!! What do you expect to achieve?”

The short one stopped, remained still for several breaths, then turned and went after the others. Neither of the four looked back as they vanished into the night.

“It is not right,” said Gar Darron, “but you made the correct call. I would not wrestle with it longer than necessary.”

He squeezed Sevt’s shoulder and retreated into the camp, whose people were awakening to the commotion.

How can any of us know what the correct call was?

His thoughts turned to Sowne, tied to a tree somewhere deep in the woods. As terrible as the thought was, as much as he resisted it, Sevt could not help but wonder what his verdict would have been. And furthermore, if it would have been the same.