Ice Blink

30: Preparation

Sweat poured down Nuna's face as she stamped her shovel deeper. It took all the strength left in her trembling muscles to toss the load of snow over her shoulder, where it hit the pile with a wet thud.

"Are you sure we have enough time to do this?" How Toklo had enough spare breath to speak, she did not know.

"Anything to slow them down. We have a day before their reinforcements reach the village."

"If this village is really under siege, why is there no sign of the soldiers?"

"Even soldiers need to retreat to stock up supplies."

"But would they really leave the village like this? Allowing the villagers to get help? Surely some soldiers stayed to block off the roads."

"The Chief's scouts reported deserted camps, that's all I know. Now keep digging. We want to finish this trap before nightfall." Amarok's shovel sliced through the snow as if it were water, and if Nuna had had a moment to rest and stop my vision from swimming, she might have appreciated his strength. He'd removed his bulky fur outer layer to work, revealing a frame corded with muscle, capped in leather plates.

The temperature dropped, and only when Nuna's shovel met a layer of solid ice did Amarok pause.

"I don't think we can do any more. Let's just hope the ditch is enough to slow them down."

"Out of the trap, everyone, unless you want to be stuck down there, waiting for a soldier to tumble in!" Iki announced from out of sight.

She, Amarok and Toklo climbed the ladder propped against the side of the ditch. Iki approached with four villagers, carrying a frame of lashed-together driftwood between them. They set the frame carefully over the hole and we picked up shovels, preparing to throw snow over the top to create a treacherously thin cover.

"Gods willing, this will get rid of a few fighters and save us the trouble," a man said.

Iki's lip curled.

"What's wrong?" Nuna asked.

"The gods aren't real."

"Is this really the time to be questioning beliefs? These people need to believe the gods are on their side."

"Fine. Let me start again." His voice dropped to the barest whisper. "The gods aren't real."

Nuna stared at him frustratedly. "Aren't they? People become stories. Stories become legends. Legends become myths."

"Well said. Was it your shaman who taught you those elegant words, or your mother?"

"Let's get back to the village," Amarok interrupted.

They were passing through the gates when they heard a qilaun drumming a steady beat, a solemn sound that echoed in the silence.

Amarok halted.

The back of Nuna's neck prickled.

"The warning signal," Iki said.

Niju sprinted towards them. "They're here!"

"What? How? We've just finished the traps, we were out in the open tundra – we'd have seen them coming!"

He skidded to a halt, clutching his side. "They... attacked from the west... avoiding the traps."

"There must have been a hidden camp keeping watch over the village," Amarok said, darting a glance at Toklo. His eyes hardened. "Where's the fight?"

"This way!" As soon as Niju gestured, the villagers rushed past him. Nuna followed, her feet moving of their own accord, barely noticing when he pressed a spear into her hands.