Episode CXII - An Officer, Not a Gentleman

"Ah, Sergeant Jansen," Dimsun greeted in his gravelly Stoneskin voice as Sarah helped the young militiaman into the dwelling that had become their shelter, "how good of you join us."  Dimsun being Dimsun, it was hard to tell whether or not he was being sarcastic until he added, "I don't know what we would have done had you not come to intervene.”

Jansen remained silent, but at least had the decency to blush.

"He's hurt," Sarah said, "do we have anything to help patch him up?"

"Not a lot," Dimsun replied, "but I'll see what's in the pack.  He made his way over to where the embers of the fire still glowed with residual heat and began to rummage around in the bag he always carried over his shoulder.

"We should probably take you back to Riverwatch," Sarah said as she gave Jansen another once over, "we can't exactly leave you to do it on your own now."

"Absolutely not," Frostfire cut in, his voice harsh, "we've wasted enough time already.  We have to make it to Frostfeather as soon as possible!"

Sarah was a little surprised to hear the usually laconic Spiketail say so much in one go, but, more than that, his response made her angry.  Was he really that unconcerned for the life of a fellow being?

"I'll be fine on my own," Jansen added meekly.

“No you will not!” Sarah said, rounding on Jansen with the anger she knew ought to be directed at Frostfire.  “There’s no way you’ll make it back to Riverwatch on your own with that injury in this weather.  If the Stoneskins won’t take you I’ll go with you on my own!”

Frostfire growled.  “We’re not losing you now,” he said.

“I don’t think you can stop me!” Sarah said rising to her feet, trying to look as fierce as she could.

Frostfire seemed about to argue, but then his eyes dimmed a little and he nodded his head.  His look of sudden resignation was almost heart-breaking and for a moment Sarah wasn’t sure what to do next.

Fortunately Dimsun filled the silence.

“We’re actually closer to our destination now than we are to Riverwatch anyway and I’m sure there’ll be medical supplies where we’re going.  We could just bring Sergeant Jansen with us.”

Sarah glanced from Jansen to Frostfire and back again.  Neither looked happy, even without Jansen’s wincing expression as he tried not to move too much, and neither seemed capable of looking at the other.

“If it’s really the quickest way to get him help…” Sarah began, turning towards Dimsun.

“I’m almost certain it is,” the talkative creature replied.

“He’ll slow us down.” Frostfire said, sullen.

“You’ll be taking me the wrong way,” Jansen added.

Sarah smiled.  “It’s settled then.”

They left a couple of hours later, as soon as daylight began to brighten the dull bluish white of the snow outside.  This was enough time to do for Jansen what they could, allowed for a little extra sleep and enabled them all to eat a quick breakfast of dried, salted meats.

Out in the snow Frostfire forged ahead as always and Dimsun seemed torn between keeping up with him and hanging back to offer assistance to Sarah who supported Jansen through the drifts.  He seemed to settle into a hesitant intermediary state which was of no use to either party.

Jansen remained silent.  He obviously wasn’t happy with any part of his situation.  His injury clearly pained him immensely, though he tried to bear it bravely, but it seemed that being forced to travel to Frostfeather with a party of Stoneskins and being half carried along the way by a young woman were only making matters worse for him.  He said nothing, but his furrowed brow spoke volumes.

Sarah wasn’t much happier.  She didn’t want to see Jansen left for dead in the cold of Blizzardale, but neither had she forgotten his treatment of them during their time in Riverwatch, nor did his obvious disdain for her travelling companions and embarrassment at receiving her help warm her to him anymore.  She tried to focus, instead, on her surroundings and the quest for any sign that they might be nearing their destination, but the cliff walls of Blizzardale, with their many doors and windows leading into abandoned darkness, did no change and the world remained frosty and white and bleak.

So, it was a great surprise when Frostfire crested a ridge ahead of them, paused and then called back down, “We’ve arrived,” before vanishing over the rise.  Dimsun picked up his pace to hurry after him and so Sarah and Jansen were forced to struggle up the last part of the slope on their own.  Sarah was so exhausted when she reached the top that it took a minute or so of heavy breathing, bent over towards her feet, before she could look up and see just what it was they had reached.

The canyon-like pass of Blizzardale opened up down the slope before them into a great, forested plateau which stretched far into the distance where the misty shadows of mountains marked its border.  The forest was thick and dark and full of frost-painted pines; so thick, in fact, that it seemed for once that there was no city district hidden within.  All there was of civilisation here was a single shiny, domed building rising up out of the trees a few miles away.

Frostfire was, of course, already halfway down the slope towards the forest border, but Dimsun had obviously decided to wait for them after descending only a few metres.  He looked up at Sarah as she took in all there was to see and immediately began to give an explanation, so that Sarah thought he might make an excellent tour guide if he was ever in need of new employment.

“The forest of Frostfeather,” he began, “is one of the few districts of Shadow designated as an area of important Philosophical interest and so it has been preserved for thousands of years as a mixture of wilderness and ancient ruins.”

“Why here in particular?”

Dimsun shrugged, “Partly because it’s so cold, I suspect, and partly because of the legends behind the cold and behind the district’s name.”

Sarah looked a question.

“Frostfeather was one of the Great Feathers in Stoneskin mythology.  You might have heard Shadowsmoke mention them?”

She shook her head.  Jansen smirked.

“Well, very few Stoneskins believe in them nowadays anyway, but some say that Frostfeather still lives and that it is he who makes this forest so cold.”

“I take it that’s our destination, then?” Sarah asked pointing to the domed building.

Dimsun nodded, “It’s a Philosophical research station.”

“And is there any chance of you telling me what we’re looking for there?”

“It’s not really my place.  If Frostfire wants you to know he’ll tell you.  Besides, we’ll be there within the hour and you’ll see for yourself.”

“Well then,” Sarah said, adjusting her grip around Sergeant Jansen’s shoulders, “we had best get moving then, hadn’t we?”

The forest was not quite as dark and thick as it had appeared from the outside.  The pines were unevenly spaced, unlike those Sarah was used to seeing in plantations across Great Britain, but they were far enough apart from each other to have allowed a substantial amount of snow to cover whatever undergrowth there might have been and that, in turn, reflected the light which fell through the canopy all around them.  It was a dim light, but it was better than she had been expecting.

Similarly, though Sarah had assumed that there could be no remnants of a city hidden within Frostfeather’s borders, there were in fact the remains of walls between the trees.  Not many.  This was not an abandoned town like most of the districts they had passed through since Ashvault, but it was clear that the forest hid ruins of quite some age and, judging from the hints of architectural detail which still remained, grandeur and importance.

“Not much is known about the ruins of Frostfeather,” Dimsun explained as they passed ghostly walls emerging from the gloom.  “They predate most written records about the city and it is believed they are a remnant of one of the ancient civilisations that used to live in Shadow.  There aren’t many places where such ‘precursor’ ruins still exist.”

            Sarah nodded, but her attention was on Jansen.  He was beginning to find the journey a struggle.  His energy was flagging and she found that she had to hold more and more of his weight as they trudged through the wintery forest.

            “I’ve always wanted to study them in more detail,” Dimsun continued, “but there’s never really been an opportunity.”  He glanced longingly at the walls as they passed.  He sighed, “I don’t suppose I’ll get a chance even now.”

            Suddenly Jansen’s legs gave way and the militia officer collapsed to the snow, taking a surprised Sarah down with him.

            Dimsun rushed over to them and offered a taloned hand to help Sarah up, but she was focused on the Sergeant, checking his airway and other things she was sure she had seen people do on episodes of Casualty and Holby City.

            “Jansen,” she called, “Mikael, are you alright?  Can you hear me?”

            He opened his eyes halfway and attempted a smile.

            “This was really not the way I planned this,” he said, his voice trailing off at the end as unconsciousness began to take him once more.

            “Oh, no, no, no!” Sarah said, pinching his cheek, “you’re not going out cold on me now.  We’re nearly there.  Hold on a bit longer and then you can rest all you like.”

            “Too… tired,” he managed, before adding an almost inaudible and surprisingly humble, “sorry…” and closing his eyes once more.

            “Do you need a hand?”

            “I beat up a Grinder on my own,” Sarah replied, sliding her arms underneath Jansen’s back and legs and starting to heave, “I think… I can manage… one dandy soldier…”

            He was heavier than she expected from his lithe frame - clearly there was a lot of muscle under all that fancy uniform – but she managed to lift him nonetheless and, she was pleased to see, her skin wasn’t even glowing from the cold, let alone any ad hoc mystical powers.  She glanced at Dimsun, who seemed suitably impressed, and gestured for him to lead the way.

            And so they marched deeper into the forest of Frostfeather and Sarah struggled not to giggle at the music in her head.

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