A Darkness Forged in Fire

by Chris (chris R. ) Evans

  "And what would these humans have done except cut the trees to clear the land for farming, built roads, and dug up the earth in search of metal?" Her face was taut with an inner struggle, as if every fiber of her being was restraining the desire to call a bolt of lightning down on him. "If the elves of the Long Watch don't care for this world, who will? Your precious Empire that brings civilization at the point of a bayonet? Your master's way is the way of fire and violence. Burn it if it won't change to meet your needs. Slash it down if it won't bow to your will. Great rifts are being carved in the natural order of the world. Do you think that can go on forever without consequence?"

  Konowa wasn't sure what he would have said next, as a soldier came running up and interrupted them.

  "Begging the major's pardon, but we've got a man in a bad way. We need the witch, sir." He was breathing heavily, his eyes still wide with the exertion of fighting just a few moments ago.

  "Take me to him," Visyna said, turning her back on Konowa and moving off into the night. The soldier looked from her to Konowa.

  "Show her!" Konowa barked, following them as the soldier tore off through the shattered camp.

  Faeraugs lay dead everywhere he looked. He saw bits of uniforms, broken muskets, and overturned cook pots interspersed among the carnage, and tried to picture what the camp had looked like just a short time ago.

  "Make a hole, the major and his witch coming through!"

  A group of soldiers parted, revealing a man lying flat on his back, his right arm draped over his stomach. Konowa kneeled on one side and Visyna on the other.

  "E-evening, Major…"

  "I remember you," Konowa said, looking into the man's one good eye. Blood covered the soldier's face and a rattling sound emanated from his chest.

  "Yes…yes, sir, Meri. Hell of a night, sir, if you'll pardon my swearing. I did my best, Major. I didn't let you down—" Meri was suddenly racked with coughing, and blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. His right arm slid off his body and Konowa gently grabbed him by the hand, placing it back over the gaping wound in his stomach. Meri's skin already felt cold.

  "I know you did. You just rest, Meri, save your strength," Konowa said, looking over at Visyna. "Miss Tekoy here will fix you right up."

  "…best news I've heard all day," Meri managed before another coughing fit.

  Konowa leaned over him and whispered to Visyna, "Can you help him?"

  Visyna shook her head.

  "But you healed me. Surely there is something you can do?" he asked. In battle, he could always fight harder, but now, in its aftermath, he felt helpless. He had no weapon, no skill to combat this. Soldiers were dying again and there was nothing he could do.

  Visyna rose from beside Meri and walked several yards away, motioning for Konowa to follow her. When they were out of earshot of the soldiers around the dying man, she whispered to him.

  "Do you know nothing of the arts? In healing you, I tapped your own strength and that of the land around us." She looked over at Meri and her face softened. "He hasn't the strength to begin to repair the wound, and this land," she said, kicking her boot in the dust, "has little to offer. Surely you feel it? The natural order is poisoned here. Something is changing the land. Faeraugs have not been seen in years, and even then they were never that big. All I can do is ease his suffering."

  A cold stabbing pain flared in Konowa's chest and he reached reflexively for it, his hand closing around the shape of the acorn. He took his hand away and looked at Visyna.

  "No!" Visyna shouted, causing several soldiers to look over at them. She lowered her voice as she continued. "Would you pour water on a drowning man? Can you not feel what it is?"

  "My father wouldn't have given this to me if it was that dangerous. Surely you can use it somehow to help Meri?" he asked, pulling the pouch out of his jacket and holding it out to her. "I'm not asking you to destroy anything this time, but to help."

  She stared at the small leather pouch in his hand for a long time, then looked back at him with regret and something close to fear in her eyes. "I cannot do this."

  "You don't need to," Lorian said from behind, startling both of them. "He's dead."

  TWENTY-TWO

  Don't blame her, Major—there's nothing anyone could have done for him," Lorian said.

  Konowa continued to look straight ahead as the two of them walked through the camp. Troops milled about in groups, some laughing and passing around bottles he chose not to notice, others staring out into the dark, their muskets clutched tightly in trembling hands.

  "I want the men kept busy," he said. "Don't give them a chance to think about this. I don't care if you have them digging latrines from now until sunrise, just don't let them think."

  "I'll see to it, Major, but they're going to wonder what's going on, and if it's connected to what we're doing out here…"

  Konowa nodded. "You don't think this was a coincidence, then?"

  Lorian shook his head.

  "Good. If you did, I'd think the Duke had pawned a slow wit off on me."

  A series of honks answered by low, rumbling bellows signaled the return of the brindos and muraphants. At least the regiment still has a food source, Konowa thought viciously.

  A soldier marched up holding a lantern and handed Lorian a piece of parchment. Lorian gave it a quick look and grimaced.

  "Three dead in A Company, five in B, and one in C, along with twenty-two wounded, three serious," Lorian said.

  "How many faeraugs did we kill?" Konowa asked, but he already knew the number would never be high enough.

  "Five, maybe six hundred," Lorian replied. "It's not much compensation, but once the lads got over their shock, they performed well."

  Konowa nodded, stepping around an overturned kettle and a shredded haversack, its contents spilled on the ground and trampled in the dirt. "I'd like several soldiers written up for commendations. Private Arkhorn for one." He paused before saying the next bit. "And there was a group who used swords. They saved me when I fell."

  Lorian looked puzzled. "You were right about the dwarf, sir, he's one hell of a fighter. But I don't know what other soldiers you mean. The men have their muskets, bayonets, and small daggers. I've no doubt a couple of them have a few other weapons stashed away, but other than Arkhorn with his drukar, and me and the other sergeants with our halberds, only officers carry swords, sir."

  Konowa laid his right hand across his chest, then quickly removed it when he saw Lorian watching him. "It must have been muskets, then. Very well, check with the other sergeants and have the list for me by dawn."

  A commotion up beyond the next patch of vines halted further conversation. Konowa drew his saber and Sergeant Lorian brought his halberd to the ready. Sharing a silent look, they stepped around a mass of leafy stems expecting another attack. Instead, they found a cloaked figure holding a lantern, kicking dead faeraugs into a pile.

  "Rallie?" Konowa said.

  "Ah, Major, Sergeant Major," she said, looking up from her exertions to give them a friendly smile. "Pardon the mess, and mind your step—a few still have a bit of life left in them." She laughed and gave a still-twitching faeraug a swift kick, sending its body tumbling into the growing pile.

  "I could have some soldiers take care of this," Konowa said, noticing the wagon behind her appeared to have suffered no ill effects from the attack.

  "Not at all," she said, "you two will be fine. Major, you can start over there, Sergeant Major, that group to your left, if you please. Tear off their legs, but leave them alive, would you?"

  Lorian appeared ready to object, but Konowa shook his head and began helping her move the bodies. Lorian looked around as if still expecting an attack, then joined in, spearing the dead bodies on the end of his halberd and adding them to the one pile, ripping off the legs of those still with life in them and adding them to another.

  "The Prince was most upset," Rallie said as she dragged two more bodies forward from under the wagon. "He was hoping his first battle
would be against two-legged enemies."

  "We'll have that soon enough," Konowa replied, looking over at Lorian, who nodded in agreement. Konowa moved closer to Rallie and lowered his voice. "I thought the little nit was upset because the faeraugs ruined his tent."

  Rallie stood up straight, holding her back and walking over to lean against the wagon. She pulled a cigar from beneath her cloak and had it lit in an instant, the glowing orange dot illuminating her face with devilish hues. "He's soft, self-centered, and scared—a dangerous combination out here. First blood has been spilled, and he was buried under a tent with me when it happened. His ego is rather fragile at the moment."

  "His ego? I don't give two shakes of a gryphon's tail how fragile his ego is." Was Rallie actually defending him? "This was only the first of what we're going to face. Nine men have already paid the price, and more will surely follow."

  Rallie took the cigar out of her mouth and pointed to a spot behind Konowa. He turned and hacked at a faeraug crawling toward him from out of the pile. Its carapace cracked and split open on the second blow. Lorian walked over and speared it back on top of the other bodies.

  "The Prince will learn, and you two will be the ones to teach him, with a little help from me," Rallie said, chuckling as she stuck the cigar back in her mouth. "In fact, his lessons have already begun." She reached into her cloak and drew forth a rolled piece of parchment. "My interview with His Highness where he expresses his personal condolences to the families of those slain."

  "He actually expressed feeling for the lives of common soldiers?" Konowa asked. Lorian stopped spearing bodies and walked over to stand beside Konowa.

  "He will once the news criers start repeating it," Rallie said, her face breaking out into a huge grin from behind a cloud of dense smoke. She reached down to grab a body and then jumped back when it started to wriggle. She motioned to Lorian. "Be a dear…"

  Lorian stepped forward and stuck the faeraug, swung it over to the pile, then used his boot to knock it off the end of his halberd.

  "Now, in order to show the public that the Prince is indeed maturing into a thoughtful leader, I need to feed my darlings and send one of them on its way." Rallie walked toward the heap of bodies and selected a particularly juicy-looking faeraug. A shiny dagger materialized from within the folds of a sleeve and Rallie quickly had a dripping hunk of thorax in her hand. She carried it over to her wagon and lifted the flap of the canvas tarp covering the contents. There was an immediate frenzy inside, which set the wagon rocking violently on its wheels. Loud squawks emanated from under the tarp, and Konowa could just make out a row of wooden cages. Rallie tossed the meat through the bars of the first cage and the squawking got even louder.

  "There you are, my darlings, nice fresh meat for a change." She had Lorian pass her more hunks of faeraug, a task he clearly found unpleasant, as she continued the feeding for each cage, tossing in flesh and speaking soothingly to whatever was inside.

  "What are they, ma'am?" Lorian asked, holding out a dripping piece of meat at arm's length.

  "My messengers," she replied, opening the door to one of the cages and sticking her arm inside. "I used to use carrier pigeons to deliver my reports, but they got eaten more than they made it through. So far, these little beauties have avoided that fate." She pulled her arm out and with it a dark form perched on it. "They're sreexes. Aren't they adorable?"

  Konowa stared with barely concealed disgust at the creature perched on Rallie's arm. The bird, if that's what it was, flexed its wings, spreading leathery feathers that covered its entire body except for its huge, curving talons, iridescent red eyes, and fanged, whiskered muzzle. He guessed it must weigh twenty pounds. Stringy bits of flesh still hung from its incongruous mouth as Rallie stroked its back and cooed to it.

  "You're my precious, aren't you, Martimis?" she said, nuzzling the sreex with her nose. The sreex responded by closing its red eyes, then raising its snout in the air, howling. "Lovely, aren't they?" Rallie asked, walking over to Konowa and Lorian to let them have a better look.

  Lorian clenched his halberd a little tighter and quietly moved back to a safer distance. Konowa was tempted to do the same, but held his ground. "Never seen anything like it," he said truthfully, noticing for the first time a pungent aroma emanating from the beast.

  "I'm not surprised," Rallie said, holding out her arm and motioning for Konowa to do the same. "I purchased a pair of these in a very special market a long, long way from here. Breed like rabbits. The Royal Zoological Society is still trying to classify them."

  Konowa reluctantly held out his arm as Rallie coaxed Martimis over to him. It leaned forward to grab the cloth of his jacket in its teeth, then hopped, both claws easily wrapping around his forearm as its full weight came to rest. Konowa found himself in a staring contest with the creature, its red eyes growing brighter.

  "Oh, don't do that, Major, or it'll think you want to mate," Rallie said, walking back to her wagon, where she began rolling up a piece of parchment and stuffing it into a small tube that looked suspiciously like bone.

  Konowa looked away and saw Lorian trying not to stare himself.

  "Miss Synjyn, do you know what's going on?" Lorian asked, finally tearing his eyes away from the sreex. "How can rakkes and dog-spiders come back again?"

  "That is the question, isn't it?" Rallie said, walking back with the tube. "I have my theories, none of them particularly hopeful. It's not by chance, I think, that all these creatures should gravitate toward the Iron Elves and their mission."

  Lorian looked quickly at Konowa, then back to her. "You know about the Star?"

  Rallie chuckled and shook her head. "Well, if I didn't, I do now."

  Lorian blushed.

  Rallie waved away his embarrassment. "I piece together puzzles for a living, Sergeant Major," she said, holding up the bone for Martimis. The sreex opened his mouth and Rallie threw it in. He swallowed it in one gulp, his claws digging into Konowa's arm with increased pressure as he did so.

  "All right then, my darling, time to earn your keep." Rallie called Martimis back to her arm and whispered something to it, then flung her arm in the air, propelling the sreex into the night sky. It opened its wings wide and flapped, the sound reverberating in the clearing like a musket shot. The animal circled once, howled, and then disappeared into the night.

  "How long to reach Calahr?" Konowa asked. The feeling rushed back into his hand and he rubbed it casually, noticing that Rallie showed no signs of discomfort.

  "Two weeks, maybe more. Depends as much on the weather as any other danger. Now," Rallie said, clapping her hands, "I need to feed Dandy."

  Konowa took another look at the wagon. There was a much larger cage behind the smaller ones under the tarp.

  "Short for Dandelion. Only eats live meat, that one."

  "What is he?" Lorian asked, the worry in his voice plain.

  "Special," she said, a sly smile on her lips. "Would you like to see him?"

  Konowa bowed his head and started to back away. "Thank you, Rallie, but Lorian and I should get back. Another time, perhaps?"

  "It's a date," Rallie said, grabbing up some of the legless faeraugs and carrying them back to the wagon. "Good evening, gentlemen."

  Konowa and Lorian bade Rallie a good night and quickly walked away. "Dandy?" Lorian asked after they were out of earshot.

  "Better not to think about it," Konowa said, trying very hard to follow his own advice.

  "Yes, sir," Lorian said, then cleared his throat. "I have to be honest with you, sir, all these creatures coming back…I don't like it."

  Konowa looked over to see if Lorian was trying to be funny. "I can't imagine many would, which is why I need you to keep it together. The boys are going to look to you, Lorian, and they need to see you take this in your stride. Tell them you heard the dog-spiders broke out of a wizard's private menagerie—sounds believable enough. Remember a few years back when that ice dragon started building a nest in the Royal Maze in Celwyn? Turns out a tavern
keeper had kept the thing as a pet to keep his wares cold and the thing got loose."

  "But ice dragons are real, sir, just rare and from the far north. Those dog-spiders were supposed to be extinct, and they didn't escape from any zoo."

  "I know that, and you know that, and the troops probably know that, too, but if we act as if it's no big thing, they'll take their cue from that. Now, anything else?"

  Lorian looked as if he wanted to pursue the issue further, but knew when to let it go. "About Corporal Kritton. The Prince wants him flogged at sunup and we don't have any drummer boys on roll."

  Konowa stopped and let out a deep breath. Traditionally, flogging was carried out by the youngest and smallest members of a regiment. That way, a soldier would feel the sting, but the lash wouldn't cut too deep. If his wounds didn't get infected, he would heal and perhaps become a better soldier for it. At least, that was the theory. Konowa thought flogging a cruel and fool-headed way to discipline soldiers. He had never resorted to it when he had commanded the Iron Elves.

  "Find the weakest, sickliest soldier you can and make sure he understands what I want. This is for the Prince, so make it look good. And try and let it slip that this is for show. We're trying to stop one rebellion, we don't need to be creating another one in our own ranks."

  Lorian nodded. "I'll take care of it. Anyway, it's a lousy charge, sir—the men know it. And they know you're doing everything you can for them. They won't blame you."

  "Kritton will," Konowa said, looking up at the stars. The acorn against his chest grew a little colder at the thought.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Ten mounds of dirt marked the graves of the soldiers killed by the faeraug attack, the tenth having succumbed to his wounds during the night. It had been tough digging, the soil dry and hard-packed and shot through with roots. After a bit of enterprising bartering by the troops assigned to dig the graves, three muraphants were enlisted to gouge the area with their tusks. Even with their help, it took several hours and the graves were only just finished in time to lay the first casualties of the Iron Elves to rest before another first for the newly reformed regiment began.