"Don't bother loading. Fix bayonets! A and B companies fall back to the road, don't leave anyone behind! C Company on me!" he cried, slowly walking back toward the wagons as the faeraugs scrambled closer.
"No!" Visyna screamed, grabbing him by the arm. "They need to stay by the fires. You need light!"
"I can see well enough," Konowa said, shrugging loose from her grasp.
"But they can't! They're not elves, they're men."
Konowa realized his mistake too late. "Damn it!" He tried shouting again for the men to go back toward the campfires, but the chittering noise had risen to such a high pitch that he couldn't make himself heard.
Suddenly, a faeraug lunged at Konowa's leg and he cut down with the saber, severing the monster in two. His arm tingled; the faeraug's body was like wood. Something surged inside him, a feeling of cold power, but there was no time to puzzle it out. Another came at him from the left and he pivoted, stabbing it between its pincers. This time the blade slid in easily. A gush of oily black fluid spurted from the dying creature's mouth as he withdrew the saber. Frost appeared to briefly glitter along the blade.
He became aware of the noise and chaos beyond him and looked up.
Soldiers thrashed madly, stabbing with bayonets and smashing at their attackers with the butts of their muskets. Screams and yells punctuated the horrible chittering noise. Here and there a bright flash was seen, followed by the sharp crack of a musket firing, indicating some of the men had been able to load and fire. There was a roar and whoosh and two fiery trails arced across the black to detonate a second later, sending parts of faeraugs flying high into the air. But for every shot there were a hundred chittering shrieksthe odds were not in their favor.
"Visyna, tell the muraphant drivers to take burning brands from the fire and move forward to give the soldiers light. Visyna!" He whirled around but couldn't see her anywhere. He started to run toward the fire, and several faeraugs pounced on him at once, their combined weight knocking him to the ground. Instead of bracing for the fall, Konowa curled and rolled as he hit, shaking the creatures from his back and jumping back onto his feet before they could attack again. He swung his saber in a smooth arc and felt it slice through their thick flesh three times. Jolts of lightning raced through his arm and shoulder, but he managed to hold on to his saber. Konowa stumbled backward as another faeraug bore down on him. A soldier stepped in front of him and cleaved it in two. Four more were quickly dispatched and the bugs skittered into the dark, looking for easier prey.
"Thanks," Konowa said, reaching out his free hand to clasp the shoulder of his savior.
"If you are to die, it will be by my hand and no other," Kritton replied, glaring at Konowa before moving off into the night.
There was no time to debate the matter, as a new cry caught Konowa's attention.
"The Prince! Rally to the Prince!"
A seething mass of the creatures was crawling over the Prince's marquee, pulling it down by sheer weight of numbers. Their pincers cut through the cloth with ease, allowing still more of the monsters to pour through the gaps like water into a sinking ship. A group of soldiers led by the drukar-wielding dwarf, Private Arkhorn, were hacking and stabbing their way toward the marquee even as screams came from inside.
They aren't going to make it in time, Konowa realized, unsure if that troubled him or not. He took a tentative step toward the tent and was immediately set on by several more faeraugs, ending any thoughts he had of rendering aid to the Prince. Konowa had time for one more glance just as the tent collapsed completely, with the soldiers still several yards away, before the pincers of the faeraugs close at hand drew his attention back.
Konowa swung his saber back and forth to keep a circle of clear ground around him as he edged backward toward the fire. It suddenly dawned on him that he'd misheard the warning. It wasn't rally to the Prince, it had been Rallie and the Princeshe was still in there.
Alwyn clenched his musket in both hands like a club and swung it wildly. He missed the faeraug he was aiming for and knocked Yimt's shako off the dwarf's head.
"Watch where you're swinging that bloody thing!" Yimt shouted, managing to duck out of the way just in time as Alwyn took aim at another creature. The two of them were pressed back to back fending off the dog-spiders.
"There are too many of them," Alwyn cried, swinging his musket again. It connected, and he felt the satisfying crunch of a faeraug's head being caved in, but in the next instant three more latched on to his musket and tore it from his hands. Another jumped at his face and Alwyn threw up his arms as a last defense.
He suddenly found himself lifted off his feet. Alwyn lowered his arm to see Yimt had picked him up with one hand while wielding his drukar with the other. Alwyn tried and failed to follow the course of the dwarf's blade as it slashed through the faeraugs. Wind whistled past Alwyn's ears as Yimt swung his drukar. The black blade was a whistling blur of death.
Faeraugs lunged and skittered all around them, looking for an opening, but whenever one leaped, Yimt's drukar met it head-on. A red, pulpy mist soon surrounded them, and Alwyn's specs were completely covered in blood.
"Yimt, put me down and I can help," Alwyn shouted, not really sure how true that was.
The dwarf kept swinging his drukar. "Naw, you're doing fine as my shield."
"What?"
"Just teasing, but you are getting a bit heavy," Yimt said as he set Alwyn back on the ground. "Find a weapon and watch my back."
Alwyn ran a quick hand across his specs and picked up the first musket he could find. It was slimy with faeraug guts and the stock was shattered, but it was better than nothing. He risked a quick look at Yimt and was horrified at what he saw.
Yimt held his drukar in his right hand and a bayonet in his left. Both were slick with blood. But it was Yimt's face that startled Alwyn. He'd expected to see the Little Mad One in all his fury, but instead the dwarf looked as calm as a still pond. Alwyn realized then that Yimt wasn't just a soldier. He was a professional killer, and he was in his element.
Unfortunately, so were the faeraugs.
Konowa looked back to the tent, but could no longer tell where it was. Soldiers milled about everywhere, and the dwarf, if he still lived, was nowhere in sight. A faeraug scrambled into the cleared circle and Konowa impaled it with a two-handed stab, pinning it and his saber to the ground.
When he tried to remove the blade he found it was stuck.
The dog-spiders seemed to sense his problem and started creeping toward him.
Konowa looked around frantically for something to fend them off with. In complete desperation, he grabbed hold of one of the pincers from the dead faeraug and ripped it free to use as a weapon. Black slime oozed from the torn end, covering Konowa's hands and making it difficult to keep a good grip.
The faeraugs continued to close, their feelers waving madly, as if to say we have you now. Konowa was preparing to charge straight at them when a sensation of cold needles stabbing his chest brought him to his knees. He opened his mouth to scream but nothing, not a sound, not even a breath passed his lips. Am I dead? he wondered, watching the faeraugs move ever closer.
A faeraug scrabbled forward on its eight spindly legs to mere inches in front of him. Its pincers opened and closed and then it squatted, preparing to lunge straight for his throat. Konowa tried to lift his hand, but his body would not respond. Other faeraugs were moving in, getting ready to swarm.
The acorn from Her Wolf Oak pressing against his chest beat like his own heart.
The faeraug jumped.
It all happened in an instant.
The faeraug leaped into the air and was skewered on the point of a sword. It squirmed frantically as a black frost spread over it. A moment later, it burst into black flame and was utterly consumed. Konowa shook his head, not sure what he was seeing. The other faeraugs scattered as a group of soldiers suddenly loomed from the darkness, hacking their way through the creatures with a cold precision that Konowa could never hope to em
ulate. In a rush of sound and heat, the world came back to Konowa, and his senses were once again assaulted by the battle around him.
The soldiers had formed a protective ring around Konowa with their backs to him, their swords rising and falling with grim determination. He was unable to see any of their faces, their bodies always cloaked in shadow no matter which way they turned. Konowa clutched at his chest as he gulped in air and tried to stand.
A whistling noise made him look up. A silver light was arcing across the night sky. When it reached its apex it stopped, and then burst with a ferocious concussion. His ears buzzed with pain and his sight went completely white even as he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, it looked like broad daylight. Scattered groups of soldiers cheered, their muskets rising and falling like scythe-men walking through a field of grain. The faeraugs, so terrifying in the dark, now appeared smaller, more vulnerable. The light confused them, and they started to flee toward the vines.
The soldiers who had saved him were gone.
A presence approached Konowa from behind. He grabbed for his blade and wrenched it free, then spun around to defend himself. A cold, burning sensation stung his hands, and when he risked a look down he saw that they were clean, the blood of the faeraug completely gone, a few crystals of frost winking along the hilt of the saber before they, too, vanished.
"They only hunt at nightwe will be safe now," Visyna said. Her clothes were torn and she had a thin red cut along one cheek, but otherwise she appeared unhurt.
"You did that?" Konowa asked, pointing up at the sky with his saber.
"It's little more than a conjurer's trick," Visyna said, a look in her eyes saying otherwise.
"Can you burn the vines?" Konowa asked. He was looking for signs of the dwarf and Rallie, but there was still too much chaos to make out anything clearly.
"Yes, but the muraphants are still out there, and a fire would only panic them further. Besides, the light will be enough for your men to defend themselves now. The faeraugs are fleeing."
"To hell with that!" Konowa rasped, rounding on her and bringing his face inches from hers. "If you have the power to destroy these things, then do it!"
Visyna glared back at him and stood her ground. "You would have me lay waste to this entire area even though you are now protected?"
Konowa opened his eyes in surprise. "You're just like the elves of the Long Watch. They'd sit idly by and watch men freeze before they'd fell a tree to make a fire. This isn't a game, Visyna. Torch the vines, that's an order."
It was her turn to look surprised. "I will not kill indiscriminately, and I most certainly am not a soldier for you to command. I have provided you lightdefend your men by it as you see fit, but I will not do more to aid in this slaughter."
Konowa clenched the pommel of his saber and gritted his teeth. Visyna's eyes glinted with the reflected light that still burned above them, and it was clear she wasn't going to listen to him. Without another word, Konowa spun on his heel and sprinted toward the Prince's tent. Dead faeraugs lay everywhere, their black blood churned into the earth by the boots of the soldiers, the massive foot pads of the muraphants creating a grotesque mud.
"Has anyone seen the colonel?" Konowa shouted, fully expecting to find the Prince in a hundred pieces.
A bent blade swung up in the air, dripping blood. "He's over here, Major, and none the worse for wear, I'd wager," Private Arkhorn said.
Konowa jogged the last few yards and stopped in amazement. The dwarf was covered in the black blood of the faeraugs, their bodies piled up around him to his waist. In fact, the dwarf was actually stuck, and using his drukar to chop his way out of the entanglement.
"Get that man out of there," Konowa ordered. Several soldiers began spearing the bodies on the end of their bayonets and heaving them away.
"Easy lads, easy," the dwarf yelled, menacing them with his blade. "Not all the meat in here is bug."
Shouts to his left drew Konowa's attention and he prepared for another attack, but relaxed as Jir bounded into the light, the body of a faeraug clamped firmly between his teeth. The dog-spider's legs were still twitching.
"There you are," Konowa said, reaching out to pat the bengar on the head. Jir growled and dropped his muzzle toward the ground so that he could stare up at Konowa through the fur of his bushy eyebrows.
Konowa slowly pulled his hand back and broke eye contact. "And here I am, over here, nowhere near your dinner."
Jir sniffed once and quietly padded across the open ground toward the darkness, his eyes never straying from Konowa. All the while, the eight legs of the faeraug twitched and convulsed in Jir's mouth. The soldiers gave him a wide berth.
"This is not at all how I expected the evening to turn out."
Konowa whirled around at the sound of the voice. "You're alive."
"I am pleased to see you in a like state." Rallie stood among the tattered remains of the tent, her cloak as pristine as when she'd first entered it. Her hair, however, was even frizzier.
"And the Prince?" Konowa asked.
"Still in one piece," he called out, hobbling out of the dark to stand in front of her. "No thanks to the guard detail for my tent." He made an effort to stand up straight and brush at the many rents in his uniform. "Secure this camp and put every man on watch, then flog the soldier in charge of protecting me!"
Konowa wanted to strike Prince Tykkin right across the mouth. "Sir? Surely you don't blame the men for this?" He took a step forwardthis fool couldn't really mean it. "There was no way to know these creatures were going to attack."
Several soldiers gasped and the Prince's eyes grew wide. He took one step backward and placed his hands on his hips. "Are you threatening me, Major?"
Konowa raised his hands in confusion and only then realized he still held his saber in his hand. He reached down to grab a couple of vine leaves to clean the blade before sheathing it, but stopped when he saw the steel was perfectly clean. "My apologies, Colonel…the heat of battle, you understand."
"I'm sure the Prince understands" Rallie started to say, but was cut off as the Prince surged past her.
"I want a name, Major, and I want it right now."
"Sir, perhaps we could discuss this in private," Konowa said, motioning toward the soldiers grouped around. The dwarf had been set free and had come up to stand close by, as if guarding Konowa's back. Surprisingly, it was a definite comfort.
"No need, Major, it's my fault," Lorian said, coming forward. He had lost his shako and his hair was plastered to his skull, the sweat still dripping down his face. The steel tip of his eight-foot-long halberd glistened with black blood and he leaned on it to catch his breath before straightening up and saluting the Prince. "Colonel, as acting regimental sergeant major, the responsibility was mine. If anyone is to be flogged, it should be me."
The Prince smiled, a humorless one no doubt refined in Her Majesty's court, maintaining pretense without any actual warmth behind it. "A noble gesture, but no, I want the man responsible. Who was in charge of my guard detail?"
The muscles in Lorian's jaw trembled and he looked at Konowa beseechingly.
"Tell me!" Prince Tykkin ordered.
Lorian let out a small sigh. "Corporal Kritton, sir, the elf. He was assigned to guard your tent."
"An elf," the Prince spat out, fixing Konowa with a baleful stare. "Very well, I want him broken to private and given twenty lashes at dawn. Is that clear? Major, you will see to it personally."
Konowa's protest died on his lips. Dozens of soldiers were now standing around them, the flickering light of burning brands shooting shadows back and forth across the blood-soaked earth. Musket fire still crackled and the cries of wounded punctuated the night and Konowa knew he had more important things to attend to.
"Yes, sir," Konowa said, saluting and leaving. He headed for the nearest fire, where a group of soldiers were tending to the wounded.
"The Prince survived?" Visyna asked, appearing suddenly in front of Konowa, halting him
in his tracks.
"Thanks in large part to the dwarf. When a day or two has passed, I'm going to recommend him for a medal. The Prince won't agree, of course, but it should make promoting Private Arkhorn to Corporal significantly easier."
Visyna shook her head. "Surely you see the folly in this. This regiment is anathema to everything natural. I fear that the faeraugs were but the first of many tribulations to come."
"Wrapping ourselves in leaves and chewing grass won't change that," Konowa said, moving to step past Visyna. She surprised him by reaching out a hand and grabbing his arm.
"Get rid of it."
Konowa was nonplussed. "Get rid of what?"
Visyna gripped his arm harder. "You know what I'm talking about. I can feel it as if I held it in my hand. Your father was wrong to give it to you. It will not provide you with the help you need."
"And I suppose you will? Like the way you burned the vines when I asked you?"
She let go of his arm. "And what then? Would you have me burn every piece of land that holds shadows? This regiment is no different from the Empire that spawned it. Wherever it goes, it will leave a scar."
"Better the land than us," Konowa said.
Visyna shook her head. "Do you not see? You are already wounded," she said, pointing not to his ear, but to the place where the pouch lay under his jacket. "You risk everything for nothing. When we were in the forest, I sensed that you were starting to connect with the power around you. Don't give up now."
Konowa felt his face flush. "Stay out of my mind, Visyna. You don't know anything about it."
"Then help me to understand, and let me help you."
"And what, go back to the forest and live among the bloody trees?" Konowa asked. "Have you ever met an elf of the Long Watch? They live in a world that has little to do with the one the rest of us inhabit. They will sit for days in a field of grass just to listen to the wind play among the blades and think nothing of food. I've seen them weep like babies when a tree is struck by lightning, yet when a wagon full of human homesteaders foundered and drowned in a fast-flowing river their only concern was that the wood of the wagon was pierced with iron nails!"
A Darkness Forged in Fire Page 17
