Glass Winter | Chapter XXVII

They bound Sinner to a trunk, close enough for Sowne to hear his breathing once their captors departed, leaving them to rot in the dark. The murderers’ kith had kept itself alive through discourse, but the cold would claim them soon, as it had claimed Therath two sleeps ago.

Despite this, Sinner’s presence alone killed Sowne’s want for conversation.

“I saw your hair, chief. Still silver as the snow.”

Sowne strained his forearms, for all the good it would do, in another thousandth effort to break the binds on his wrists. They had started to loosen.

“I know you’re here, chief, and I know you’re alive. Unlike the fellow tied to the tree behind us, you made the mistake of reacting to the sentry’s torch.”

A mistake.

What foolishness had led to Sinner’s capture could not be outweighed by any of Sowne’s actions. But he would not tell him this.

“Who is it that’s speaking?” Asked another one of the killers.

Sowne glanced over his shoulder, “Don’t talk.”

“So there are three of you, at least,” Sinner shifted in the gloom, probably in an effort to reposition and see his neighbours.

The fool.

“Besides the corpse, who are you?”

If Lance talks again…

“This is Lance, and that is Sowne sat beside you—”

“Damn you and stuff you, would you shut your trap?” Sowne craned his neck around the trunk of his larch.

“I’m already damned, chief. Weren’t you the advocate for conversation?”

“It’s Sinner,” Sowne rested his head against the tree when he could strain it no more, “you’re speaking to Sinner. Unless you fancy conversation with the enemy, I’d advise you to shut your gob and let the cold take a traitor.”

“It’s yet to take me,” the bastard muttered to his left, “I’m still here.”

“And Eron is not,” Lance observed.

If my hands ever break free, they’ll throttle you first.

“It’s every man for himself,” Sinner shifted in the dark; his voice became muffled. “That’s why I’m here, and he’s still out there.”

Curious.

“What were you doing here?” Sowne searched the gloom.

The other did not respond.

So, this is where we are. Fuck him.

And fate along with it, thought the chief. For all of his efforts in a land truly godforsaken, he had fallen to the bottom rung with all of his bones intact. And he had yet to climb again, if not for the ropes still chafing his wrists.

They must have been fed only once a day. It was clear that Sevt was saving rations for the survivors, which Sowne silently commended. He wondered if the ire his scruples had received at the commune applied to the new chief just as well.

“What’s it like out there, man? What are the survivors’ views on Sevt’s leadership?”

There was the sound of rustling fur against snow.

“You ordered us to be quiet,” more movements followed, “but if you must know, they aren’t swell.”

“What did you learn?”

“I dunno. There seems to be tension between the men. But it might only be me.”

“Why is that?”

A pause, “Because I rebelled alongside Eron, spilt the blood of our comrades, and followed the man out of the commune and back again, only to be captured for my efforts and sentenced here, with you. A man needs to eat and he’s punished for it. What a world…”

Except that Eron was not here. But he was alive.

They had nothing to warm themselves with but each other’s company, as comforting as ice that it was. At first, Sowne had inspired a steadfast will for converse among these killers. Per Sowne’s command, and on rotation, two neighbouring men were to keep each other awake in hushed tones while the others slept. Sowne’s partner had been Therath, and Lance’s was Lorent. Though lately, the latter two had grown quieter.

Every day they went without rations the conversations scarcened. For the food grew scarcer. Sevt’s sentries would normally make their rounds with reluctant looks and hands, feeding the prisoners their meagre share of lichen or bark or fish, then go on their way. Every wake, between sleeps, Sowne’s belly would fill without fail. It had been two sleeps since Sinner’s arrival, and no torch fire had warmed or checked on them.

“Lance, you awake?”

No response.

Sowne’s doeskin gloves could not protect the extremities in absolute cold. He had resorted to balling his fingers up in a fist, or retreating them into his sleeves altogether. Therath and Lorent did not have this luxury, having lost their mitts in the chaos at the commune, and would certainly be losing a hand or both with the sentries’ absence.

He tried to break apart the ropes on his wrists again, and once again they loosened, by however little.

“Sinner.”

He did not respond at first.

You were the last one to come here. What did you see? What can you do?

“You need to keep alive, man.”

“Now he’s interested in my survival?”

“Can you feel your fingers and your toes?”

“I suppose.”

Good.

“Eron sent you back here, you said?”

There was a pause, “If you’re looking for revenge, you won’t find him. He didn’t send me back so much as he sent me here.”

“But you were caught.”

“…That’s the truth.”

“And now you’re bound to a tree, with the rest of us here.”

“Never took you for such an astute observer, chief.”

“Just stating the facts. And they’re not fair, are they?”

Sinner sighed, “It wouldn’t be Hell if they were.”

Sowne chuckled, “Are you ready to die in Hell?”

Sinner hawked and spat. He coughed, deep and damp, before settling.

“Well, are you, man?”

“Following Eron was the smartest decision I made down here. After the havoc you caused and, fuck, Mal’s incompetence. Because believe it or not, despite my sins, I like living.”

“People don’t seem to understand that about us, do they?”

“Fuck those people.”

Even if they’re right?

“Fuck them,” Sinner went on, “I do what is right by me. And thanks to those fags you let capture us we will die. I’m racking my brains on what to do, and I’m coming up short.”

“You’re doing everything right. There is no order here, so why should we be courteous?”

Playing to his filth was the key. And Sinner paid attention.

“You’d know about it, wouldn’t you, chief?” Sinner sighed again, “If the guards are Mal and I’m Gar Darron, how do you propose that we rebel, if we don’t want to be damned a second time?

The comparison silenced Sowne for a moment. Not for long.

“We only need one sentry, but for that we need both.”

Sinner turned his head, as far as he could, towards Sowne, “How’s that?”

“Lance isn’t running his mouth anymore. That makes him and Therath. How many more deaths do you think they’ll allow before recalling what we faced at the commune, and the chance of its return?”

“They don’t seem all that concerned. What’s three more deaths – our deaths – to them?”

“We have to remind them, Sinner. That there’s our leverage.”

In the gloom he raised his coupled arms, “These might cause a problem, chief.”

“We can move our fingers. That’ll be enough.”

Sinner chuckled, “I don’t remember you being this funny back at the commune.”

The binds on Sowne’s wrists had loosened by an inch, maybe half, but it would be enough to manoeuvre with at chow time, which had to take place. Sooner or later, someone would notice the sentries’ altered rotations. The chief did not believe that Sevt would have just left the prisoners to die. The guards needed to come back.

This could be the only chance we get.

“Won’t be long before Sevt decides to dispose of us, Sinner. You need to think about that. Leaving us out here to freeze and starve while the rest of his company moves north with their rations – that’s the logical alternative to dragging us along. You saw how desperate it was out there. Justice, my friend, is now in the hands of those fit to enact it.”

“You’ll count me in, I hope…?” Lorent said in strained rasps.

Why, of course.

“Sinner and I are the closest. For this to work the sentries will need to see each other. What say you, Sinner?”

“There’s still the question,” he coughed, “of our escape. We’re just as hungry out there as we are in here…. But I can take you to Eron, if we stay behind the others. Kill him or don’t, our best chances aren’t among these people. Fine.”

Sowne felt freer already.

Good. Very good.

One of them needed to rest while the others, as before, kept each other awake. Sowne volunteered to sleep first, to little demur. His own wits would double still after this, while the others’ remained depleted.

Good. Very good.

For now, he had not died in his sleep. If fortune was still on his side, when his loyalty to God had not meant a thing, Sowne would survive until their escape. Lorent and Sinner simply needed to play their parts. If everything went well, they would not even need to be separated. If complications arose….

I’ll take care of them if need be. I always do. Just stick to the plan. Thickheads.

An eternity might have passed until his eyelids, shut, and in their darkness, suddenly flickered in a raging red, and the cold, once more, seeped from his body. Sowne remained still.

“You take the chief…”

Whomever was assigned to Sowne approached over crunching snow, crouching down to feel the pulse at his neck.

“He breathes well.”

His sentry’s furs rustled. Something was lodged into the ground, most likely the torch. The man’s partner soon responded.

“Sinner’s just as alive.”

The sentry’s furs rustled some more. Over and under. He was unravelling rope, or a line.

“Make it quick. Bair will be asking questions…”

A tight line of twisted fibre coiled around Sowne’s neck.

“That’s too high, mate. He’ll see the bruising.”

The line was lowered beneath the scruff of Sowne’s parka, resting against his clavicles at an angle that still caught the throat.

“That’s it.”

“I was always a quick learner.”

With the force of both his feet Sowne pushed off the earth and brought his arms round on his attacker, slamming him into the tree trunk. A distant struggle suggested that Sinner had done the same. The line dug into Sowne’s neck. He pressed his weight onto the strangler to loosen the catch, who thrashed in the snow for a moment before one of his arms broke free and elbowed the other. Sowne doubled down, grabbing at hair and fur, continually slamming the sentry into the ground and the tree while his own elbows screamed against their restraints.

The coil around his neck had come undone, and in one of the brief moments when Sowne’s sentry stopped resisting, the captive pulled the line off over his head and onto the man on the ground. Sowne wove its ends before heaving with the strength of his arms and back, slipping between the face of the tree trunk and the ropes across his torso.

“Tell us you yield, and that you will release us.” The former chief glanced at Sinner and saw that he was still fighting. And losing.

The sentry beneath gurgled a response. Sowne loosened his grip.

“Say that you yield, and that you’ll let us go.”

More gurgling, though now in single syllables. Sowne was about to loosen the line some more before he saw the sentry pushing off the ground, so he leaned sharper against the tree. By now the ropes were chafing against the right side of Sowne’s neck and digging into his arms.

If I lean any further, I’ll choke the both of us. What a delightful fate that will be…

“Yield you bastard,” Sowne adjusted his hold, “it’s only me. You know me.”

He felt the terror tremble along the line in his hands, and silence fall over the woods. Glancing back at Sinner, Sowne saw the man’s sentry standing above him, resting against a tree of his own with haggard breaths. Staring Sowne down.

Well here’s some proper leverage.

Sowne visibly adjusted his grip, “One wrong move from me and your friend’s neck snaps.”

“Why… haven’t you…?”

“Snapped it already? Exactly for this.” Sowne nodded at his ropes, “Unbind Sinner. Then me. Then Lorent. Besides, neither one of us wishes to spill blood, not after what we’ve seen.”

“You’re a hypo… hypocrite, Sowne. How do you expect—?”

“No, lad. I’m a realist. Now untie Sinner or I swear I’m taking this one with me, and that’ll be four deaths this new commune’s faced. Who knows what that might summon?”

“You godless son of a…”

Four bloodless deaths. But all the same.

Neither of them truly wanted the risk. For all of their faults.

“Spare us the coloured words and hurry along.”

The sentry circled around his tree and, with frantic hands, picked and pulled at the ropes holding Sinner.

A knife would have been easier to cut with.

“We were supposed to leave you here,” the standing guard grimaced, “then whatever happened to the lot of you wouldn’t matter.”

“You would have made a convincing couple,” spoke Lorent from the shadows, “and Bair might have eaten it all up.”

“Sevt’s getting desperate, and we have to move quick. Nobody would have questioned a thing.” Hoarfrost still clung to Sinner’s binds, and the sentry’s hands slipped more than they loosened, “This is where you belong, besides.”

Foul justice enacted on the unjust was still justice, according to this man.

Sowne could not resist a sneer, “How rich. Rich as bones painted gold.”

By a miracle Sinner’s ropes slid down the tree trunk, allowing him to move freely. The sentry now walked around to undo the binds on his wrists and ankles, still without a knife.

“I’ll let you go…”

Sowne had almost forgotten about his own guard still squirming on the ground.

“I’ll let you go… please…”

A craven killer. The most amusing kind.

“Start with the legs,” replied Sowne, “I’ll release you after that.”

He obeyed, just as Sinner swayed to his feet up ahead. He looked at the former chief.

Not yet.

White-eye understood, turning to face his sentry instead and extending a hand. The other neither moved nor spoke.

Sowne’s legs were free, as was the sentry’s neck.

“Now the arms.”

If he tried anything, Sowne could kick him down fast enough for Sinner to retaliate. If the man was finally capable of combat.

Sowne’s wrists were separated. After a week, and despite the sleeves in-between, they had swollen red and flaked with dead skin.

“Wait,” said Sinner’s sentry.

“No. I’d rather not die.” Sowne’s guard worked to undo the ropes that wrapped around his tree.

“He won’t do shit.”

“How about this?” Sowne cooled his wrists in the snow, “You stay true to your word and we’ll stay true to ours.”

“What do you hope to achieve? You can’t loot our rations, not now, with Sevt’s men surrounding and dragging them into the mountains. You’re not going to return to Eron empty-handed either.”

This fella’s a smart one.

Sinner did not look concerned. His sole eye was fixed on the sentry.

The ropes loosened around Sowne’s torso.

“You’re not here to kill, that’s what you say. But you’re killers. And you don’t uphold your word, Sowne. Don’t think we forgot what you did to Mal.”

“He was alive and well under my command. Now, while some of us might not comprehend demotion—”

“Kivett, stop.”

Too late.

When Sinner grabbed and tossed his sentry to the ground, Sowne knocked the feet out from under Kivett and pressed a knee into his back, holding down both of his arms. The chief’s head circled and his body was stiff, but he was unbound.

“Search him, Sinner, but keep the one limb pinned behind him with your leg.”

Not that someone like him required such advice, but it was wise to be sure. Both sentries had always patrolled the woods without a drawn or visible weapon, and as Sowne patted down Kivett he still failed to find one.

“They’re unarmed.” Sinner observed.

Sowne twisted his sentry’s arm, “What’s the deal there, son? Are you two the kind who like to watch a man die slow?”

“We… are mandated to leave them at camp before heading in here.”

Sevt really doesn’t trust them not to kill us.

“Defeats the purpose of sentrying, doesn’t it?” Sowne maintained his grip, searching the forest floor around them.

“You’ll be wanting one of those,” Sinner indicated at a patch of gravel shorn of snow by the scuffle, before turning back to his captive. “Where’s Sevt?”

While the guard mumbled a reply, Sowne followed a trail of pebbles with his eyes alone to its brothers and fathers until he saw the rock of the bunch, larger than his fist.

“Please…” croaked Sinner’s sentry before being slammed, once more, into the ground.

“Yeah,” Sowne dragged his captive over to the gravel by the hair and reached for one of the rocks, tossing it to Sinner, “you and me both.”

For as long as it serves us.

As Sowne grabbed one for himself, Sinner had already beaten his sentry half to death.

~~~~~

“I know where Eron is,” he said.

And yet, I don’t believe him, thought Sevt.

The story was outlandish enough. But he was alive thanks to Sowne, and Lorent and Sinner were not.

“Check the rations if you need more proof,” Sowne went on. “You’ll count at least two- or three-days excess for five people. Your sentries wanted us dead, Lorent and Sinner simply had had enough.”

“They fought off two men with their hands and feet restrained?”

“Men you disarmed, whose foes were desperate.”

You’re full of shit Sevt wanted to say. You’re in on the scheme, whatever it might be.

But Sowne replied without faltering, “I did what was just…”

“Caving your comrades’ heads in.”

“…they were going to flee until they learned where you were. And now I can bring another to justice. Sinner has told me all about it. You want order? This is it. This is what it means to lead. Those people’s lives are in your hands and you’re letting them slip between your fingers.”

“I wonder what it is that Sinner has told you.”

“He’s told me enough. I’m not the kind to let you sabotage our chance at escape.”

Sevt held up a hand in a gesture of silence and limped away to gather his thoughts. Sowne followed.

“Sinner isn’t the last,” he said.

“I’m aware.”

“Then let me stay behind and handle this.”

You want blood, but you’ll spill the rest of ours if you get what you want.

“You’re heading into the mountains—”

“Their gullies.”

Sowne threw up his arms, “Better yet. There are only so many paths Eron can take to follow you either way. Return me my sword, and I’ll see him buried.”

“You against three men, him and his lackeys?”

“I’ve faced far worse.”

And come out rougher for it.

There was that wildness in his eyes, which mankind once abandoned with its fur and forelegs. But there were no men or women down here, only the godforsaken. What possessed Sowne now had always been his character, but the woods and the binds had awakened its dormant remains. That look which thought without words but with blood and fear alone. That beast had rescued Sevt. He loathed it.

“This isn’t the way.”

“Goddamn it, Sevt, forget your principles and let me kill this man for you.”

“It’s that which sentenced you and Sinner’s like to this place. I believe it’s the reason why further death only punishes us.”

Sowne nodded. The snowfall settled and vanished among his silver hairs.

“Men have done terrible things in the name of peace throughout history, Sevt. I’ll be far behind you, holding this man back. Whatever happens then, it won’t affect your salvation.”

To turn a blind eye…

What did it say about Sevt, all of this? To kill a man so readily at the commune, but to hesitate now when they were at the glass castle’s doorstep. Perhaps there was a reason he sought redemption in Hell and not on Earth.

Perhaps they were all doomed to fall, no matter the choice the new chief made.

But, if he had fallen because of inadequate leadership in his mortal waking years, redemption could be found down here by seeing it through. Allowing Sowne to seek out his vengeance would keep him away from the survivors, and they need not ever know of his fate, or of what he just did. Their sanity, and their own salvation, could be threatened otherwise. All of it made the chief sick.

But what choice do I really have?

“Very well,” Sevt turned to face him, “but you will not be going alone.”

Sowne tilted his head and gestured to the crutch, “Surely you don’t mean…?”

“No. Men of your ilk; who can wield a weapon.”

May God forgive me.