Chapter 200: Crossing the Lake

Voss looked past the walls of the rebel fortress. His gaze traveled all the way up the dark slopes of the mountain behind it.

A plume of dark dust and steam lazily drifted from the jagged peak. It was barely visible against the night sky.

"Damnit," Voss breathed out. He took a slow step backward away from the shoreline. "That sound... it is a deep fracture, Hans."

"It is just a mountain," Hans tried to joke. His voice was strained and nervous. "It has been smoking since we arrived today. It is probably just complaining about the cold."

"No, you do not understand," Voss said. He grabbed Hans by the arm. "At any moment, this peak might fracture. If that mountain decides to open its mouth... even the rifles, even King Konrad himself cannot save us."

Though Voss was a brave veteran, this sudden fear was deeply relatable.

"We are standing near a frozen lake, waiting to fight angry exiles, while a huge mountain of stone and steam grumbles right over our heads," Hans muttered. He ran a hand through his hair. "This is a nightmare. We should have stayed in Augsburg with the royal guard."

"We will leave this cursed pass tomorrow," Voss promised firmly. He forced himself to let go of Hans’s arm. He took a long breath. "I refuse to die because a piece of dirt decided to vomit fire and rock."

Brandt walked back over to them, unaware of the mountain’s warning signs. "The men are fed, General. The guards are posted around the outer campfires. We are ready to sleep."

"Good," Voss nodded. He gave the commander a forced smile. "Tell the men to get as much rest as they can. Tomorrow is going to be a very fast, very brutal morning."

The three commanders walked back toward the largest roaring campfire.

They found a dry spot near the flames. They wrapped themselves tightly in their heavy coats and lay down on the snowy ground.

The Swabian army slept shoulder-to-shoulder on the tree line. They shared body heat to survive the freezing alpine night. The campfires crackled brightly, but Voss could not close his eyes right away.

Every time he drifted off, the deep, grinding rumble from the mountain echoed in his ears. It reminded him that they were sleeping right next to a ticking bomb of liquid pressure and stone.

The sun finally peeked over the eastern ridges. It cast a pale light across the snowy valley. The wind had stopped. It left the morning air freezing and entirely still.

"Wake up! Get up on your feet!" Brandt’s loud voice barked through the camp.

Voss opened his eyes. He groaned as his stiff muscles loudly protested the cold.

He sat up. He shook the thick white frost off his heavy coat. Beside him, Hans was already stretching his arms. He yawned loudly into the morning air.

"Morning," Hans joked. He kicked some loose snow at Voss’s boots. "Did the mountain eat us in our sleep?"

"Not yet," Voss grunted. He stood up and checked his steel mace.

He walked to the edge of the tree line and looked out over the valley.

Just as he had predicted, the sweeping hole in the center of the lake was entirely gone.

The freezing night had sealed the dark water with a fresh, smooth layer of clear ice.

"Brandt!" Voss called out. His confident, commanding energy returned instantly with the daylight. "Are the men ready?"

"Yes, General!" Brandt jogged over. He gave a sharp salute. "The Jaegers are awake and fully loaded. What are your orders?"

"It is time to act like panicked cowards," Voss grinned. He rubbed his hands together. "Start packing the camp, but do it loudly! Kick the snow over the fires! Leave a few empty coal crates behind! Tell the artillery crews to vent steam from the engines! I want the men to form a loose, messy line and start walking back up the snowy slope toward Augsburg. Make sure we look wholly broken!"

The Jaegers executed the plan perfectly. They bumped into each other. They yelled fake, panicked orders. They left heavy wooden buckets and empty supply crates scattered across the snowy ground.

From a distance, it looked exactly like an army that had lost its nerve and was running away in terror.

Voss, Hans, and Brandt stood near the back of the retreating line. They slowly walked up the icy hill. They kept their eyes glued to the heavy timber walls of the rebel fortress across the lake.

For five minutes, nothing happened. The fortress remained quiet.

"Maybe Reischach is still asleep," Hans muttered. He sounded a little disappointed.

"Wait for it," Voss whispered. His eyes were unblinking. "Greed is a slow poison. It takes a minute to reach the brain."

Suddenly, the deep, booming sound of the rebel war horn echoed across the frozen valley.

The gates of the fortress groaned as they were thrown wide open.

Thousands of rebel mercenaries, armed with broadswords, pikes, and stolen revolvers, poured out of the city gates.

They did not form a careful Spanish Tercio this time. Seeing the Swabian army "running away," the exiles broke into a disorganized sprint across the frozen lake.

They were screaming. They were blinded by the desire to catch them, steal the rifles, and claim a glorious victory.

Leading the sweeping charge, riding his heavy warhorse, was Baron von Reischach. The old noble raised his broadsword. He pointed at Voss’s retreating back.

"THEY ARE BREAKING! CATCH THEM!" Reischach’s voice roared. "KILL THE COWARDS!"

"Look at them run," Brandt whispered. His eyes were wide as the sprawling rebel army charged blindly toward the center of the lake. "They are heading right for the new ice."

"Keep walking up the hill!" Voss ordered his men. A wide smile stretched across his face. "Do not stop! Let them chase us right into the freezing water!"

The Swabian soldiers continued their fake retreat. They glanced back over their shoulders as the thousands of screaming mercenaries got closer and closer to the deadly center of the lake.

Fifty paces to the new ice.

Thirty paces.

Ten paces.

Voss stopped walking. He turned around. He rested his hands on his hips. He was ready to watch the old noble’s entire army shatter the thin ice and drown in their own foolish greed.

But as the first wave of boots hit the exact center of the lake... the fresh ice did not break.

Thousands of armored men, snarling war hounds, and even Baron von Reischach’s heavy warhorse ran directly over the exact spot where sixty men had drowned just yesterday. The ice held them perfectly. It did not even bend.

"What?" Voss gasped. His breath hitched painfully in his throat. "One night of cold is not nearly enough to freeze water that thick! It should have shattered!"

"General!" Hans screamed. He grabbed his mace with both hands. "They are crossing the lake! They are not falling in!"

The sprawling rebel army was now sprinting up the snowy beach. They were unharmed. They screamed for blood as they charged directly at the retreating Swabian soldiers.

"How..."

"What is holding that ice together?"