Snow and Tree

Arri was cold.

When it began to snow a few hours before she had awakened, she hadn't noticed much. Opening her eyes to see the would-be dusk turned gray and flat with the advancing storm, she watched the snowflakes drift gently down to the frozen ground, gradually turning it white. She had even held out her palm to catch the delicate creations, seeing them melt away at her touch. After awhile though, she realized the dangers she would face if the gentle fall became a blizzard. She had no protection from the cold, being barefooted and wearing threadbare rags. Her main concern was survival, and avoiding frostbite. Her feet were numb but not blue, she made sure she stopped often to warm them in her tattered apparel. A bow in her hand and a quiver across her back had given her protection from wild animals and bandits on the road, as well as tools for hunting. Now the arrows' solid weight was heavy against her back, as was the bow icy and awkward--but in a way comforting, knowing she was tired from carrying her weapons meant she wasn't dead yet. Part of her wanted to drop the weapons in the freshly fallen snow and leave them there, but she still had no idea what was up ahead, and if she encountered trouble, she needed her bow with her.

The thinning but still falling snow almost made her feel deaf. All noise was muffled in the drift, and all animals were tucked away and sleeping if they could help it. She couldn't help it. Her thoughts turned to warm hearths, drowsing by the dying coals, full and content and . . .

No! she shook her head viciously. Now is not the time for daydreams, not in weather like this. She looked up to the darkening, but clearing sky. Or hallucinations, she thought ruefully. Chances were that if she fell asleep in one of the comfortable-looking drifts, she would never wake up. She stamped her feet in frustration and defiance. She would not give in!

A faint clanging broke her internal argument about quitting. The sound was so alien after so much silence that she didn't recognize it. When it disappeared for a minute under the changing breeze, her heart leaped as though she had lost a friend. Please don't be a mistake, she prayed feverishly. Please don't be false. She waited, and listened. There it was again, louder! Desperate for anything that would take her mind off slowly freezing to death, she summoned her will and strength and jogged toward the noise.

The night had cleared from the afternoon snowstorm, and a pearly full moon shone steadily over the snowy ground, reflecting the light and illuminating the surrounding land. Arri moved cautiously around the dark forms that were trees, coming closer and closer to the strange, metallic noise echoing through the night. As she neared its source, the trees gradually thinned and fell away. Soon she thought she saw a brightness that was unlike the ubiquitous moonlight. The sight had a reddish tinge to it, and as she drew closer, she realized it was flames. Just as quickly she realized the sounds must be swords and armor clashing-there was a battle up ahead! She circled the larger trees and boulders scattered throughout the forest just as the knowledge made sense. She broke out of the trees and the sight of what lay before her was unhindered.

A wall of fire, six or more feet, illuminated the scene along with the moonlight. She approached the flames warily, because she was dying, literally, to be near its heat. Arri was cautious though; her lucid self chided her that fire did not just burn on snow alone, and the girl could see no wood or dry grass below the flames. The fire cackled aggressively, throwing sparks as it licked hungrily at the melting snow beneath it and the frigid night air. As Arri held her palms out to the wall of fire, a large, malicious looking spark jumped out of the flames and landed near her bare feet. She leaped back instinctively to keep from being burned, and her hasty retreat caused a wave of freshly fallen snow to fly. The snow catapulted toward the fire, sloppily covering its base. The fire hissed and went out in the section that she sprayed snow on, a darkness showing where it had been. Curious, she kicked more snow on a section of the wall next to the extinguished one. The fire went out like a candle. Arri continued to push snow onto the base of the fire-wall, until she had enough room to pass through it without getting singed. She stayed safely on her side of the fire, not wanting to jump into what was on the other side until she understood what took place here. Kneeling to examine what had caused the fire to burn, she noticed the darkness under the snow she had added on top was some kind of black powder. Picking some of it up in her bare fingers, she felt its texture then lifted it to her nose and smelled it. It was grainy and hard, and had the odor of sulfur and burning things, but didn't seem magical. The flames seemed resistant to water because they were unaffected by the melting snow they sat on, but like all fires, needed air to burn. The snow, Arri thought, must suffocate it.

Dropping her handful of dark fuel, she got to her feet. Arri stepped through the doorway in the wall and took a good look at what was so precious, or so hated, it must be caged in with fire.

She wasn't sure what she saw was treasure or demon or both.

As she cleared the wall, Arri could see the flame extended out to her left and around, looping back across to the other side of the immense clearing of white spread set before her. To the north she could see a narrow passage between two enormous rocky mountains. On her far left, past the fire wall, the snowy field had rows of tents pitched on them, a large army's worth. And straight ahead of her, was the army.

A well armed force of red and black liveried soldiers were fighting against an equally equipped army in blue and gold. The fighting men on horseback were far enough away from her for Arri to guess at how this battle was created and how old it was. The fighters looked about evenly matched in number, but after only a few moments, Arri could see that the blue army was winning. Arri watched as the blue troops overcame the red with their swift, accurate moves, and excellent training. The awestruck traveler watched as it became apparent that the red army was slowly being driven to the right and up, away from the tents and the wall of fire. To give them credit, they didn't go easily, and fought with passion as well as what Arri saw as more than a little desperation. She wondered if they had been tricked into the battle.

The battle was broken up into several independent fights fought by small groups of rival soldiers that moved irregularly across the field, but generally in a direction that went past her right and veered up. The group of mounted soldiers nearest her, two blue soldiers against three red, began to drift closer to her position as they fought. Arri carefully edged her way around them, not wanting to be discovered or trampled. So intent on their fighting, the men didn't even notice her as she circled generously around them, or maybe they just didn't see her to be much of a threat, having no weapon drawn and walking instead of riding. The riders backed up almost to the edge of the fire wall, until their mounts noticed and reared or shied away, unnerved by the flames. Arri realized the wall wasn't meant to keep weary passerbys like herself out, but the mounted fighters in. Although it might be easy enough for a single foot-soldier to scuff out parts of the wall, a rider would have a much more difficult time escaping; as his horse couldn't leap the ten foot flames and wouldn't approach the fire easily at all. If she had any, Arri would have bet money by now that the red army was led blindly into the fight and trapped.

Arri stepped behind the sparse trees dotting the field as more and more of the soldiers moved her way. She moved up and to the right, along with the flow of the battle, as the men drew behind her, blocking the way she had come. Arri looked for a safe place to wait out the end of the battle before it swept over her. An immense tree, standing alone in the eastern side of the clearing caught her attention. Completely leafless in the middle of winter, it had several low reaching branches-enough for her to climb anyway. With the armies advancing even as she watched, she hurried over to the massive trunk to be able to scale it before she was overrun.

Climbing gave her tired, cold body something else to think about. Hand over hand, she levered herself up the tree. She climbed quickly and well, having learned much from living in the Ogapi Forest and studying the elves as they climbed. Her bare hands and feet were nimble in finding handholds on the icy bark and snow-laden branches. At about thirty paces up from the ground, Arri shifted her weight onto one of the broad, sturdy limbs and peered down at the battle below.

From this height, she could see the device on both armies' standards, the picture that identified each fighting force. The blue side's symbol was a golden hawk on a blue field. The other side had a black boar on a blood red field. This army looked as bloodthirsty as its mascot, their actions and faces made Arri think of heartless mercenaries, which they probably were. The feeling of dread that had been mounting in Arri's heart became sharp as she remembered what a dying traveler had rambled to her in the village before she left. The young man had staggered into the inn yard, calling hoarsely for help. Arri and a few others had tried to bandage his ugly wounds as well as they could, but could see it would be too late to save him. In an eerie surge of strength the traveler had gripped Arri's arm and whispered harshly, "Beware . . . army . . . black and red. The leader . . . boar . . . death. Killed my . . . village. Beware. . . . ." His last words said, the man had shuddered and died.

Arri shook her head to clear it of the memory, turning her thoughts back toward reality. As the battle raged around her, she itched to take her bow off her back, string it, and shoot the Boar's army full of arrows. She made herself stop and think through her reasoning logically. She had not been hurt or helped by either army, why should she stick out her neck for either one of them? Her village was not destroyed, and she hadn't befriended the dying traveler. Was it worth being killed to avenge someone she didn't even know? The blue army faltered in general, and looked like it wasn't so confident about winning now. Soon the battle would become a stalemate or even turn in the favor of the red. Her fingers burned to shoot, to fight, to do something, but she stubbornly kept to thinking it out. How did she know that this was even the right army, and the real village-killing boars weren't on the other side of the country?

She did know though, and couldn't explain it in words. The feeling she got from the battle, the emotions that rose in her soul proved everything. All she had to do was look at the red army, and she knew they were all the traveler had said they were. Finally she gave up trying to justify her actions reasonably, and let instinct take hold. Fury burned within her, her eyes colder than the snow around her, she lifted her bow off her back. Arri stood on the wide branch beneath her and dug a coil of string out of her pocket, warming it briefly against her own chilly body. Carefully taking it out of its oiled paper pouch, she set one end of the bow on the branch and stepping slightly over it, she strung her weapon.

Never taking her eyes off the scene below, Arri reached behind her to the quiver and drew an arrow. She narrowed her eyes as she calculated her target, a group of enemy riders to her left. The riders formed a wall of blades that sliced savagely into the ungrouped blue soldiers. She singled out the center, the semi-leader yelling orders. Drawing the shaft back to her ear as she aimed, she let her arrow fly. There was little wind, and her arrow flew straight and true; the red soldier suddenly had feathers sprouting from his neck. Arri didn't even take the satisfaction of watching him fall; she gravely nodded as the red rider wall crumbled, and the blue men swooped in to take advantage of their disarray. Her eyes shifted to the next target, already alert for the opening.

She continued this way for an unknown period of time, as she had no concept of passing moments when she focused on a point. Arri chose her shots carefully, firing to take out the leading red soldiers and allow the blue forces to use their superiority in training and skill. Her arrows nipped and bit at the red army, keeping their heads down and their fighting in check. She guided more than controlled the flow of battle around her, and eventually the fighting gravitated around her tree.

During a brief pause in the fighting, where either the men were too far away for her to shoot or the action was too tangled for her to fire cleanly, Arri swept the area in front of her tree, taking in the condition of the battle. Her eyes focused on a blue rider on a midnight black mount, shining like a light in the hazy battle below. The man caught Arri attention, she had never seen anyone handle a sword as easily and accurately as this one did. The rider guided his horse in and out of the enemy soldiers as his weapon gleamed and struck dangerously. Deadly and beautiful, the man was undoubtedly a leader; blue soldiers flocked in his wake, picking up the cool, controlled energy he created.

She sensed the trouble before she saw it, and notched an arrow on her string in anticipation. She picked up the problem just as the blue swordsman became entangled in a complex fight against a red soldier. A rider with an elaborate helmet and a devious look approached the swordsman from behind, Arri saw a flash of silver in the moonlight as the man drew a dagger from its sheath. Wrongness surged in Arri; swiftly she drew the arrow back to her ear and let it fly. The blue rider turned to fend off the red's lunge with the upraised dagger aimed to the back of his neck just as Arri's arrow buried itself in the red soldier's throat. Another blue soldier came up behind the dying red, and unnecessarily ran him through with his sword. The blue rider stared at the arrow that had saved him, and then up at the tree where he had seen come from. He yelled something up to her, but even with her acute hearing, she couldn't make it out over the roar of battle. Another, slightly different feeling of wrongness overcame her quickly, and she had barely enough time to react to the arrow fired by an enemy archer. Although when she dodged she was lucky enough to miss having the arrowhead bury into her chest where it was aimed, it managed to lodge itself deeply in her right shoulder. The blue leader's eyes had not left her as he watched the arrow strike her deeply and she stepped back in pain and surprise, blood running down her side. With a yell of anger, the blue leader turned and slew the enemy archer that had shot Arri, but when he looked back up at the branch where she had been, she was gone. The man had no time to puzzle over the girl, already he was being attacked by more enemy fighters.

Arri gulped air as she leaned against the trunk of the tree, having moved back to shield herself from sight and needing extra support, as the wound made her dizzy and weak. Getting control of herself, Arri reached up and felt the wound, and winced as she touched the punctured flesh. Steeling herself, she broke the arrowshaft a few inches from its base. She almost fell off the limb as adrenaline poured into her veins. The broken off arrow slipped from her unclenching fist and landed in the snow, some thirty or more paces below.

She gritted her teeth to get a hold of herself, putting her hands on the tree to steady her shaking body. So this is what happens to someone who sticks her nose into something that doesn't concern her! Her bruised and sullen logical self chimed in her head. Are you happy now? You'll probably die from this shot before you the battle's over. Hope the arrow's not poisoned. She shook her head to clear it of the cruel and all too true remarks. One thing was certain, she didn't want to be up here to die if that was her fate. Carefully, if not as rapidly as before, she climbed down the tree.

By the time she reached the ground, most of the battle had passed to her right and up, and looked like it was thinning out, the blue having an obvious victory. Soon they would return and then she would really be in trouble; alone and wounded on the ground with out a horse-she didn't want to face any army under these circumstances. She retrieved her bow from the other side of the tree; despite its weight, it was too precious to loose, now more than ever. She slung it on her back and clutching her wounded shoulder, she trotted toward the closest fringe of forest.

Prince Jonathan turned his black mount and held up his hand to stop the blue riders behind him. "Halt," he called out clearly to his troops. "Coruz's men are retreating. Few as they are, and badly beaten, they won't be any threat to us. By dispersing into the forest, they will have a hard time to regroup and present a counterattack, if at all." The blue swordsman smiled and called out loudly, "Good work, men!" He was answered by a hearty cheer from his troops, and triumphant shouts.

"Victory!"

"Aye, those nasty, flea-bitten mongrels won't never show their ugly mugs around 'ere no more!"

"'Twas your plan that saved us Jon!"

"Long live 'th Prince!"

Another hearty roar of approval greeted the last remark; Jonathan waited patiently to let them finish. Finally he held up his hand again to request a chance to speak. Instantly he had their full attention. "My brothers," he began. "We needed this victory badly, and have had it granted. Let us not forget however, the cost of any victory, no matter how trivial. Help the wounded back to camp, and end the suffering of those in pain. Think tonight of what we have received and what we must be prepared to do in the future. You are the strength of your people, you will see them succeed." He nodded his head briefly, and a heavily muscled red haired man near him shouted, "Get to it, men of Drell!" Immediately the men broke up, rounding up prisoners, aiding the wounded, and scouting ahead for signs of runaway animals or men.

Jonathan had hunting of his own to do, and called a score or so of his most trusted men to him. All gave up their horses to help the wounded reach camp faster, and the prince took the lead of his party. "What is it, Jon?" asked one of his friends, a young man of about his age, with brown hair and beard.

"I don't know, not yet," the prince replied, frowning as he strode back toward the great tree near the center of the field. Upon reaching the tree, Jonathan inspected the treetop carefully, but saw no sign of his mysterious rescuer. Walking around its base, he almost tripped on a half buried arrow in the snow. He kneeled to inspect his find, seeing that it was really only half an arrow, the head and some of the shaft and missing. The shaft looked like it had been snapped off hastily, and the prince ran his fingers over the rough, broken off end. Standing, he saw impressions in the snow leading from the tree to the dark fringes of the forest straight ahead. Accompanying the impressions were spots of dark redness, contrasting sharply with the white ground. Wordlessly, Jonathan passed the arrow to one of his companions, and followed the tracks.

Arri had just made it past the first few trees when she realized she was being followed. She forced herself to stick to her current route, not panic and be caught. They would travel in packs, soldiers always did, so outrunning them was not an option, even if she was unhurt. Hiding was an alternative.

Arri stopped and picked up several stones from the ground. She threw them far straight ahead of her, rustling vegetation and making an apparent trail for her unknown pursuers to follow. Then she picked up a dead branch from the ground and veered off to her left, scuffing out the footprints she left behind. Soon she came to a tiny clearing and hurried as fast as she could to the tree just across it. She levered herself up into its concealing branches with difficulty; her balance was off now with a wounded shoulder and the need for speed. She only managed to get about 15 paces up from the ground, partly because of her speed, and partly because the tree was much smaller than the last had been-before she heard the men. She lay on her stomach on the sturdy branch beneath her, and unhooked her bow, thinking that this was almost the best position she could be in, being high enough to be out of their usual weapon range and sight, but close enough to see them well and anticipate any hostile movements. She wasn't sure she could defend herself if they were intent on rooting her out of the tree, but then again they would have to find her first to do that.

The voices sounded nearer, and Arri could see orange spots of light that has to be torches. She braced her bow with her right arm against the limb she lay on, ready to draw if need be with her left. The men filed into the clearing, following a trail she hadn't known she'd left. She cursed; realizing she was so conscious about leaving footprints she had forgotten about the blood dripping copiously from her shoulder. The men advanced, and she was wary; having no way of knowing from this distance which side they were, either desperate reds fleeing into the forest or pursuing blues trying to finish them off. The men were following her blood trail right up to her tree, and getting too close for Arri's comfort. When they reached about twenty five paces from her hiding place, she reached behind her to her quiver, drew and fired an arrow at the feet of the leader in silent warning. Instantly the men bristled: swords were drawn, and maces and daggers hefted. The one she had shot at raised his hand, and the other men reluctantly lowered their weapons. One of the torch bearers shifted, and the orange flame illuminated the man's face. With contained surprise Arri recognized the leader to be the blue swordsman that she saved from the battle. She considered hailing him, but thought better of it and held her tongue. He wouldn't know she had saved his life, how could he? She couldn't take for granted that he would be grateful, as soldiers she found could never be trusted.

"We wish you no harm," the blue leader said, calling up to her. She didn't answer. "Will you come down, please?" He waited for a reply, then realized he wasn't going to get one. He sighed, and said, "I know what you did back there, though I don't know why you did. I'm grateful that you saved my life, and now I want to return the favor. Won't you come down so I can see you?" He waited, his stance solid and stubborn as he watched the dark tree top where she was hiding. She made no move to climb down, or even respond. Maybe if she waited long enough, they would get bored and go away . . .

"I'm not leaving," the man called up to her. "Until you come down." He glanced up at the sky-it was snowing again, the night now dark and colder feeling because of the smothering storm clouds. "I wish you would hurry up, though" the man added. "It's getting cold out here." Arri had almost forgotten about the temperature, intent on the fight and escape. Now she got back to reality, judging her current position. Her right shoulder was wounded, making her right arm nearly useless; she had no protection from the cold. She was loosing a lot of blood by not having her shoulder bandaged, and she was cornered. She was going to die if she didn't do something now.

Arri let her bow drop to the ground. The man who had spoken made no comment and made no move. Arri, satisfied with the first test, straightened and began to inch her way down the tree. A few feet from the ground, she jumped, bending her knees as she landed to stay upright. She wanted to give the impression that she as casually ready as possible, to cover up how dizzy and sick she actually felt. She bent her legs more to pick up her bow, her eyes never leaving those of the leader. Slowly, she walked toward the men, ready to bolt the moment she suspected a trap.

About half way between the tree and the soldiers, she staggered and fell, her legs buckling beneath her. The blue leader ran up to her, Arri groaned as he touched her wounded right shoulder. The world was fast becoming even darker, and she began to lose her grip on the world. She hoped she wouldn't go out completely. The blue leader had a torch brought nearer; Arri flinched away from the light. The prince looked carefully at her face, studying her features. He gasped softly as realization dawned on him. "A girl," he murmured softly. "The archer is female." Jonathan picked up his now unconscious rescuer, wrapped her in his cloak, and headed out of the forest, toward the camp.