Winter for Conspiritors

            The first snow of winter had finally settled over the land and the Vanguard knew she was running short on time. It had been several months since she had slain Captain Humford and his cowardly nobles. She could kill a room of people without breaking a sweat but rooting out treachery and hidden plots was not her strong point. She requested permission from the King to behead every noble in court but was quickly denied. The treasonous wolves hid among the flock of sheep and the Vanguard lacked the subtly required to find a wolf without killing a flock of sheep.

            The Vanguard’s black metal boots crunched down on the fallen snow as she approached a large fortress in the northern part of the kingdom. Jillian Cole, the Vanguard, heard only whispers of treason during her travels and the only solid lead she had was the word of a cowering noble. The coward accused General Durm of being the leader of the traitors, but Jillian didn’t think it was wise to just burst in and start lobbing off heads. So the Vanguard approached the fortress of General Durm with her helmet off. She hoped that the general would see Jillian as a person and maybe let his guard down. She only needed him to slip up once and then she could put her helmet back on and do what she felt the most comfortable doing, removing heads from bodies.

            Jillian marched up to the gate of Durm Fortress. She had a confident stride, with her helmet tucked under her arm and her double-sided axe, strapped to her back. she had an assortment of large deadly weapons and while she wished she could bring them all, she knew it would be difficult to be diplomatic while carrying an armory on her back.

            As the Vanguard approached the large gate a man shouted from atop the stone wall “State your name and business here!” the guard’s voice was stern and Jillian could tell he was on edge. “I am an ambassador of the King, seeking an audience with General Durm” Jillian called back. The Vanguard’s mannerisms matched someone who had been in the military for years. In most situations her tone made her sound rigid or unfriendly but she had the perfect tone for speaking with members of the military.

            Without another word from the guards the gates opened. Jillian marched forward towards the keep. Her face was confident and cold but her mind was racing. Even at this late stage of her plan, she wasn’t sure what she would say to General Durm. As her body marched forward, her mind went back to her early years. Jillian Cole’s father would have known what to do in a situation like this. Jillian’s father, Jeriah Cole, was a silver-tongued devil who could get out of any situation with words. Jillian was more like her mother and grandfather, both great warriors who had slain hundreds of soldiers in their day.

            Jillian shook the thoughts from her head. “I don’t need to worry, this General Durm is a military man, he is most likely gruff and old. And since he is a traitor he is also probably arrogant. I am sure he will slip up, then I can slay him and go home to my books and wine” Jillian thought. Her eyes flashed with determination as she hastened her step.

            The door to the keep opened just as the Vanguard approached. To her surprise a smiling older man emerged from the entrance.
“I heard the Vanguard was approaching my fortress and my men panicked!” The man chuckled as he exclaimed. This was General Durm, a slender man in his fifties. His hair was black with gray on the back and sides. He had a trimmed beard, brown eyes and a slender face. His welcoming smile belied the true deadliness of his character.

“I honestly expected fire and brimstone, not a beautiful woman” Durm said as he gestured to the door. Jillian curled her mouth into a sneer but then relaxed her face. “It is good to meet you General Durm. I was raised to properly introduce ones self before entering their home. I am Jillian Cole, Ambassador for the king. I am also known as the Vanguard, but this is not Vanguard business, this is the King’s business” Jillian replied stiffly.

General Durm’s smile grew wider “Yes of course! So rude of me. I am General Theodore Durm. Would you please join me in the keep so we can discuss business?” he asked as he gestured again to the door. Jillian nodded and proceeded forward.  

            Inside the keep was a large room made of stone with plaster walls, each wall painted with colorful paintings. The middle wall in the far back had a picture of General Durm sticking a sword into a knight of the rival kingdom. Jillian had killed more than her share of people but didn’t find it necessary to paint a picture about it. The main room of the keep was clean and well lit with torches and a few window slits in the back. “I have won so many battles for the King that he allowed me to construct my own fortress. I have added many of my own details to this structure. The beautiful artwork, a few trap doors and an armory grand enough to make even the King’s armorer jealous!” the general boasted. Jillian nodded her head and winced at Durm’s bragging. Jillian was led through the main hall, up a set of stairs and into a smaller room. This looked to be a meeting room, well lit, with sturdy tables and chairs. Armed and armored guards followed closely behind Jillian as she was taken through the keep. 

            Jillian began to recall memories of when she was a little girl, all of the bragging and bluster was reminiscent of her father’s friends. Nobles and military leaders would boast about their accomplishments while Jillian played soldier with her wooden swords. A man named Arthur Delmont was one such friend and bragged almost as much as General Durm. It was at this early age that Jillian knew she didn’t want to be a noble lady. 

            Jeriah tried to teach little Jillian everything he knew about politics but the lessons fell on deaf ears. It wasn’t until she was the age of fifteen that she started to pay attention to the lessons the nobles taught. It was at this point when Arthur Delmont and his noble friends turned on Jillian’s father. One day their friendly smiles vanished and they convinced the Lord of the land that Jeriah Cole was guilty of treason. The noble men and women then tried to seize all they could from Jeriah. Jillian remembered that lesson and distrusted the rich and powerful ever since.

            General Durm finally sat down at his large meeting table. Jillian’s mind was brought back to the present. She smiled and nodded at whatever inane thing the general was talking about and he returned with a pleased smile.

            Jillian pulled the wooden chair out, her metal boots clanked against the stone floor. She sat down with a heavy thud “As lovely as your keep is and as much as I loved our conversation, I must discuss our business” Jillian said, still trying to be diplomatic. Durm gestured his hand for her to continue. “The King is concerned about the killing of Captain Humford and several noble men. He wants to make sure his MOST trusted allies are safe and accounted for” Jillian said with fake concern in her voice. General Durm’s expression brightened further. “I will admit, you had me worried. When the Vanguard approaches your keep, the mind assumes the worst. It is so encouraging to hear that both the King and the legendary Vanguard are concerned about me and the leaders of this land” General Durm said as he ran his fingers through his chin beard.

            Jillian flinched as she felt an old memory scratching at the back of her mind. A half forgotten thought, buried in time trying to claw its way from the depths. She felt dread and sick but didn’t know why. “I am very secure and comfortable as you can see. Now if I may ask, why was the Vanguard sent with this message and not an ordinary envoy?” Durm asked as he continued to fidget with his facial hair. Jillian didn’t answer, her face went pale as her mind raced. “W-what?” Jillian said as she stared at Durm with an unusual intensity. General Durm repeated his question as his fidgeting grew worse. 

“Everyone has a tell. You can never trust ‘Uncle’ Delmont when he fidgets with his beard!” Laughed Jeriah Cole. Nine-year-old Jillian laughed along with her father as Delmont sighed.
  Jillian snapped to her senses as she glared across the table at General Durm. “Uncle Delmont?” Jillian said, her words poured from her mouth like bile. General Durm froze and his face went pale. “Who is that, my dear?” Durm asked nervously.

            The pieces all fit together in her mind. Years of age, stress and battle marked Delmont’s face, he changed his name, he was promoted through the military ranks and now after all this time, he was sitting across from Jillian. The most twisted part was that Arthur Delmont was like a brother to Jeriah and the closest thing to family Jillian had at that point. He was also the traitorous snake who killed her father and was now a prime suspect in trying to overthrow the King.

            Jillian stopped thinking, she stopped reasoning, she was no longer an envoy to the King or a diplomat trying her best, she was The Vanguard. Jillian’s eyes burned fiery red and in the blink of an eyes had jumped up from her chair, pulled her axe from the straps on her back was now moving toward the snake known as General Durm.

With one hand Jillian swung her axe. With that axe she sliced through any chance at subtly just as she sliced through General Durm's neck.
The head of general Durm had a shocked expression, the same shocked expression as every guard and soldier in the room.

  Unquenchable blood thirst and rage flowed through the Vanguard at that moment. She had just murdered a military general inside of his own fortress, a fortress full of battle tested soldiers and would now need every ounce of strength to make it out alive.

Jack Frost

In early December Fred was driving home from work. He wore a heavy brown jacket a wool hat and brown work boots. He drove an old sedan and had the heat cranked up. He sped down a lone country road, the road was clear but snow piled up in the open field next to the road.

The dusty smell of an old car’s heating system and the sound of Christmas music filled the car. Fred hummed along to one of the many tunes that he knew by heart, but kept forgetting the name. As he was driving he spotted a young boy walking alone through the snow in the snowy field. Fred carefully slowed down and then stopped his car. He opened his door and stepped out. He took a few steps away from his car and called out to the boy. The child didn’t respond. Fred heard crows and looked up, spotting a murder of crows flying overhead. Fred walked into the snow, it wasn’t too deep and only went up to his ankles. It wasn’t that easy to walk in though. Fred called out again as he walked closer to the boy.

After a few minutes Fred was only ten feet or so from the boy and yelled again, this time getting a little angry. The boy looked up. He had crystal blue eyes that were alert and showed a sense of intelligence and cunning, but his face was that of a young boy. His hair was white and his skin pale as snow. The boy smiled and a chill went down Fred’s spine. Fred blinked and the next moment the boy was gone. The crows no longer seemed interested in this spot and flew off in different directions. Confused and a little scared, Fred walked back to his car. When he got to his car he silently drove home and never told anyone about what he had seen.

Fred was just one of many to have seen this boy. The boy was actually not even a boy, but the spirit of winter, Jack Frost. He had pale blue skin, crystal blue eyes and hair made of ice and snow. He was small like a child but was devious and intelligent as a creature centuries old. He could look like a human, or close enough to fool people, and loved to play tricks. Depending on his mood he might do something as innocent as lead some poor chump out into a snowy field and then disappear or maybe something more sinister like using wind and snow to hide and knock down markers on a hiking trail and laughing as winter hikers got lost and muddled around in the snow.

Some have called Jack Frost an icy devil or snow demon and compared to the saintly Santa Clause, he might be. Jack Frost isn’t really evil though. He doesn’t care about corrupting men’s souls or trying to end anyone’s life, he only cares about having fun, even if it is at the expense of others.

Unfortunately, some people have died from Jack’s cruel tricks. He never had intended to kill anyone, he just doesn’t seem to realize or care how dangerous winter can be for humans and how fatal his tricks can become. Since Jack Frost's tricks can be so deadly, crows follow him around as they look for their next meal.

So if you ever find a boy alone in the snow and surrounded by crows, it is best to ignore him and save yourself the grief Jack Frost will most likely bring.

Spending Christmas alone

Christmas music played softly in the background in a dimly lit room. A man named Andrew sat at his writing desk with a mug of eggnog. Most of his apartment lights were off, but he had a string of multicolored Christmas lights running along the top of the wall. This was one of his favorite times of the year and was always a time to be joyful. This year was different though, this was the first year in a few years that he had been single for Christmas. Andrew wasn’t the type that needed girlfriends, but there was one specific girl named Rachel that he met around Christmas two years ago. The excitement of a new relationship mixed with the holiday cheer that he was already feeling.

            On Christmas eve they would visit her family, then on Christmas night they would visit his. Christmas morning however was just for them. They would make love in the morning, have a simple breakfast and then Andrew would get as excited as a kid to open his presents. They would exchange gifts, Rachel always tried to guess what was in the box before she opened it, she never did get one right. After they opened presents Rachel insisted they listen to Christmas music to relax before more family stuff.

            Present day and Andrew continued to listen to the music in the background, it was their favorite holiday CD. Tears filled his eyes, as every little thing around the holidays would remind him of her. It was strange that having someone around for the holidays made it twice as fun, but when the person is gone, it ruins everything. Andrew still had his health, his job and his family and for that, he was grateful, but still, something was missing. He thought of her constantly and doing so made his chest hurt, like he was being stabbed in the heart. It had been ten long months since they broke up and it hurt for a while, but Andrew thought he had gotten over it. Before the holiday season he was even feeling confident enough to start dating again. But then the cold weather set in and the jingle bells started to play and Andrew was reduced to a miserable helpless mass.

            The eggnog he was drinking was full of rum, he drank it down in one gulp. He was already drunk and this would only add to it. He didn’t care though. He needed something to help him forget the pain, to drown his sorrows. Andrew eyed his phone, but kept stopping himself before he called anyone. He was sober enough to know that no one wanted to talk to him in his current state and trying to contact Rachel would be a really bad idea, especially if he was drunk. He just wished for a few months they could be together again, have the old holiday feeling back, then they could go their separate ways.

            Andrews mind tormented him, playing over what he did wrong and what she did wrong and all the bad stuff that split them up. He couldn’t drop it, even though it hurt so bad to even think about her. In a fit of confusion and rage, Andrew threw his empty mug, shattering it against the wall then began to weep softly. His emotional pain felt like physical pain too, that plus the alcohol made him act like a wounded animal. How badly he wished he could find comfort. Comfort from his loneliness and from his own tormented mind.

            It hurt now but the pain would heal, he just needed to get through one day at a time and things would eventually get better. Then his phone rang, he rushed for the phone and answered it. “Hello?” Andrew said, drunkenly. “Merry Christmas, Andrew” Rachel said from the other end, rather meekly. Andrew’s heart sank into his stomach. How badly he wanted to say her name and go see her, to find comfort in her and pretend everything was back to normal. Andrew cried silently. “Hello? Are you there?” Rachel asked sounding worried. Andrew loved her, she was the only woman he ever loved and moments ago he would have given his right leg to talk to her again. But now, it just didn’t seem right. He didn’t know why she called, but things would never go back to normal, they would never be the same. Unable to speak and not knowing what to say, he hung up the phone. She might call right back, or she might never call him again. Right now, it didn’t matter.

            As soon as the phone clicked shut, he instantly regretted his decision. For another thirty minutes he threw himself around the room, arguing with himself and wondering if he made the right decision. When he eventually sobered up the next day, he decided that he did in fact make the right decision. That chapter of his life was over and it was time to move on. The rest of the holiday season was still lonely for Andrew, but who knows, maybe in the future Christmas will take on a new feeling for him and it will be a happy time, once again.