A Darkness Forged in Fire

by Chris (chris R. ) Evans

  Alwyn felt his face flush. "What, you think I'm lying?"

  Yimt lifted up the leaf-and-moss bandage on his head and scratched at the raw skin underneath. "Did I say you were a liar? I just said you've seen things the rest of us haven't. Maybe what they say is true, or maybe they're playing at games. Just because they get their wind up about the Shadow Monarch and all that doesn't mean we have to."

  "But what about Meri and the others?"

  Yimt stopped scratching for a moment. "I'm not saying there ain't no such thing as ghosts, I just don't know that I buy into the rest of it is all. Maybe you really did see him, or his shade. Did he still have that snuffbox in his eye socket? Now if he had that, I'd say it probably was him. I doubt many ghosts go around with one of them tucked into their skull. Good stuff, too, I meant to ask him what brand it was."

  Alwyn stared at Yimt. Yimt stared back, one hand still half under his bandage.

  "How can you not take this seriously, Yimt? She said we're bound to an eternity of serving in the regiment. An eternity."

  Yimt rolled his eyes and patted down his bandage. He looked around and snapped a small twig from a nearby bush. He started rubbing the broken end against his metal teeth. It made a high-pitched noise.

  "Whether I take it serious or not doesn't really make a difference, now does it? If it's true, I don't see what getting all worked up about it will do, and if it ain't, then there was nothing to worry about in the first place."

  The elf guarding them raised his eyebrows as Yimt dug at something stuck between a couple of molars. Alwyn nudged Yimt and motioned toward the elf.

  "What?" Yimt asked. He looked over at the elf, pulling the twig out of his mouth and waving it at him. "Just polishing the silver," he said cheerfully, and went back to brushing his teeth.

  "Trees," Alwyn whispered, "they really, really like trees."

  Yimt pulled the twig out of his mouth and looked at it closer. "What, this? It's just a little branch, no harm. And that ain't no tree no how, more a really tall bushy weed, if you ask me."

  "And what if they see it as a baby?"

  Yimt paused in his oral hygiene and gave it some thought, chewing on the end of the twig as he did so. The elf appeared to be gripping his bow rather tightly.

  Finally, Yimt pulled the twig back out and jabbed it into the ground. "Grow tall and proud, O weed of the forest," he said, blowing the twig a kiss.

  "A most interesting blessing," came Chayii's voice as she leaped down from a tree to stand beside them. "I was not aware dwarves cared for the trees of the world."

  Yimt nodded solemnly. "Oh, that we do, Miss Red Owl, that we do. Why, if you'd let me grab my shatterbow over there, I'll show you how nice I've kept the wood polished." He made to get up, but the elf guarding them lifted his bow ever so slightly and Yimt settled back on the ground.

  Alwyn cringed. Yimt might just charm them straight into eternal shadow.

  "It is a most curious weapon, and well kept, but the mixing of iron and wood has killed its spirit. I am saddened by the loss, as I am for all the brothers and sisters that died to make the other weapons you carried."

  "Killed its spirit? Not in the least." Yimt stuck out his chest a little, clearly proud of his shatterbow. "Lil' Nipper there fires as true as the day my aunt bought it, and that was more than fifty years ago. Sure, it doesn't have quite the distance it once had, but after fifty years what can you expect?"

  Chayii reached behind her back and brought forth her bow. Alwyn had that strange feeling again that someone, or something, was there with them.

  "This was given to me by my ryk faur, He Who Brushes the Sky, over one hundred years ago." She flexed the bow in her hands. It bent and then sprang back like a new sapling.

  Yimt nodded his approval. "As an admirer of form, I feel safe in saying you're both in fine shape."

  They'll find us in tiny little pieces. Before Alwyn could apologize for Yimt, Chayii laughed. She sat down in front of them, lightly jabbing one end of her bow into the earth beside the twig Yimt had just planted. Alwyn noticed the bow wasn't strung and wondered what kind of string the elves might use.

  "I will show you," Chayii said, placing her hands in the dirt to either side of the bow and twig.

  Alwyn barely jumped this time as the elf answered his unasked question. "Show us what?" Yimt asked.

  Alwyn shushed him and pointed to the twig in front of them. It began to tremble, and then tiny green shoots sprouted from it. They waved about in the air for a moment like a many-headed snake, and then began to grow upward, twining themselves together as they climbed up the bow. When they reached the top they uncoiled from the bow itself so that they hung down straight between the ends, where more green shoots had wrapped themselves. Slowly, gently, they began to tighten, spinning themselves into one incredibly fine string. The vines gleamed silvery green as they spun themselves together, bending the ends of the bow closer together until the vine string was taut. Chayii brought out a small wooden blade and lightly parted the newly grown bowstring from the twig and lifted the bow from the dirt, handing it to Yimt to inspect.

  "It's as warm as fresh bread," he said, running his hands lightly over the bow. He placed a couple of fingers on the string and pulled back, grunting in surprise. "That's incredible! If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it. Ally, give this a try."

  Alwyn looked at Chayii, who nodded her approval. He took the bow from Yimt and immediately felt the warmth in the wood. He felt something else, too, or maybe heard something. Whatever it was, he liked it. He wrapped his fingers around the string and pulled, or rather, tried to pull, the pain in his chest too much.

  "The draw weight on that would put Lil' Nipper to shame," Yimt said, shaking his head. "That's some mighty fine magic."

  Alwyn handed Chayii back her bow.

  "What you call magic we call being one with the natural order. To understand the life around you is to be part of it, and it a part of you."

  Yimt nodded noncommittally. "And you're doing a damn fine job of it, too. Now, I hate to be rude after all the help you gave us, especially in saving young Ally there from death's door, but I was wondering if we might grab our kit and be on our way? We've got a job to do and Major Osveen will have my hide if I'm late."

  Chayii looked pensive at the mention of the major's name. A lantern went on in Alwyn's head.

  "The major is an elf. You don't happen to know him, do you, ma'am?"

  She gave a wistful smile that made Alwyn regret asking.

  "I did, at one time. It has been many years since I last saw him."

  Yimt slapped the ground with the flat of his hand. "He's a wild one, no doubt about it, but a damn fine officer, and I've seen a bunch. You'd think that witch of his would tame him, but she seems to do the opposite. Two of them fight like a pair of razorback dragons in a sack."

  Chayii's smile vanished. "Witch? What witch?"

  Alwyn tried to catch Yimt's eye, but the dwarf was off on one of his tangents.

  "An elfkynan witch, to be exact. Miss Visyna Tekoy, pretty little thing, too. Got some power, put on quite a light show a week or so back. You know, give her a bow and arrow and a set of those fancy clothes you have and you'd be hard-pressed to say she wasn't an elf."

  "The elfkynan are not elves," Chayii said. The ice in her voice was crystal clear to Alwyn, but Yimt remained oblivious. "Elves would not leave a forest untended like this. The land grows strange and an illness pervades it…"

  As Miss Red Owl talked, Alwyn couldn't help but think she sounded an awful lot like Miss Tekoy, but he kept that to himself.

  "…they have forsaken the stewardship that is their birthright. These forests are yet children in this world and should not have been left alone to fend for themselves."

  "Children? There must be trees in here hundreds of years old," Alwyn said, looking around him in true awe.

  "There are Wolf Oaks in the deepest parts of our home that were there when the light of the first morning rose ov
er the mukta ull," Chayii said, a reverential tone in her voice.

  "Oh."

  Chayii turned back to Yimt. "You said they fight?"

  Yimt chuckled and nodded. "The major and Miss Tekoy? Only when they see each other. It was like that when I was courting my sweet Amag. We used to squabble over everything."

  Alwyn looked at the dwarf in surprise. Yimt, married? He'd never mentioned anything about a sweet Amag before.

  "Does she goad him to act against his better judgment?" Chayii asked.

  "Not exactly. More like they both have ideas about what's the right way to do something, and neither one is the same. Always on about the Empire and nature, too. This is evil, that is backward, bit of a bore really. I gather she wants him to be more elfish, you know, like you lot, while he would just as soon polish his musket. He may be an elf an' all, but unlike her, you put a bow and arrow in his hands and I think he'd probably use it to start a fire."

  Yimt was going to get them all killed yet. Alwyn watched Chayii, looking for the first sign of trouble, but all she did was sit there. She brought a hand to her face and wiped away a tear.

  "He's a good officer," Alwyn blurted out. He was surprised to hear himself say it, but it was true. The major got off his horse whenever he could to walk among the men, checking to see that things were in order, but also to see that they were taken care of. They barely saw the Prince, and too much of their sergeants, but the major seemed to know when to show up, and when not to. Looking back on it now, the flogging of Corporal Kritton didn't conjure up the same dark feelings it had before. If he ever saw that elf again, he'd gladly finish the other lashes.

  "Ally's telling you the truth—the major is one of the better ones. In fact," Yimt said, coughing politely and looking again at his shatterbow on the rock in the clearing, "he's expecting to see us at Luuguth Jor. We were on our way there when them rakkes attacked us, but I'm guessing you know all about what's going on. If you'd care to come along, you'd get a chance to see him, and the witch, too. Maybe you could talk some sense into them. Seems like they could be a nice couple if they could see eye to eye a bit more."

  "Perhaps they have different opinions on the Eastern Star," Chayii remarked.

  Alwyn avoided Yimt's look. The dwarf blinked a couple of times and then sighed.

  "That was supposed to be a secret, but as it's out in the open I don't suppose there is much point in denying it."

  The elf rose from the forest floor in one fluid motion. "We will accompany you, Yimt of the Warm Breeze. Prepare your men for the road; we travel at once." With that, Chayii walked into the forest and disappeared from sight. Bird calls rang out and the trees around them rustled in response.

  "You heard the lady, let's get cracking," Yimt said, jumping to his feet and helping Alwyn to his. "Inkermon, make yourself useful and get Teeter and Scolly up. And you ain't doomed until I tell you you're doomed."

  Inkermon quit mumbling and did as Yimt said. Teeter and Scolly were quickly roused, and the survivors of Three Section were soon armed and ready. Alwyn had to sling his musket over his right shoulder. His chest was in agony despite whatever spells or potions the elves must have used to heal him, and he seriously doubted he could make it all the way to Luuguth Jor.

  "Drink this," Irkila said, appearing at his side and handing him a gourd. "It will lighten your feet for the coming journey."

  "What is it?"

  "Rok har—tree's blood."

  Alwyn backed away. "I'm not drinking blood, I don't care where it came from."

  Irkila pursed her lips and called out to another elf nearby. After a short exchange, she turned back to Alwyn with a smile on her face. "My use of your language is not as precise as it could be. I believe you call this ‘sap.'"

  Alwyn let out a breath and held out his hand to accept the gourd. Other elves were offering the rest of Three Section similar gourds, so it couldn't be that bad. He removed the bark plug from the top of the gourd and took a drink. The sap, and Alwyn was sure it was more than just that, was cool and fresh, a wonderful mix of sweet and tang. Unlike the drake sweat Yimt preferred, this immediately made him feel better without trying to burn a hole in his stomach. He tried to hand the gourd back to Irkila, but she shook her head.

  "Keep it and drink from it when you have need. We will not rest until we reach our destination."

  "Thanks," Alwyn said. He walked over to where the others were standing.

  "I feel twenty years younger!" Yimt said, rubbing a sleeve across his beard as he took another drink from his gourd. "Mix in a bit of twelve-year-old Sala brandy and you'd have the perfect elixir for what ails you. Probably sell it for quite a coin, too."

  Inkermon still held his gourd in his hands, not yet taking a drink.

  "If they were going to poison you, they would have done it by now," Yimt said, motioning with a thumb toward the elves. "Drink it."

  Inkermon shook his head and held the gourd out to Yimt. "No spirits except the grace of the Creator shall pass into my body."

  He half-expected Yimt to knock Inkermon flat, but instead Yimt just smiled and took the gourd. "You better keep up or you'll have a gullet full of arrows in your backside along with his grace. Teeter, Scolly, you watch the right side, Ally and me will take the left. The saint can keep an eye to the sky for divine intervention. Them rakkes are still out there, and so is Kritton…and some other creatures, too," he added, nodding at Alwyn. "Odds are these elves will see them long before we do, but you keep looking anyway."

  Irkila reappeared and motioned for them to follow her. Alwyn put his shako on his head and then turned back to make sure they hadn't left anything behind. The rock in the clearing was bare. Satisfied, he started after Irkila and then remembered the black arrows. Before he could ask he saw them sticking out of the top of Yimt's knapsack.

  "They'll see the arrows," he said, grabbing Yimt by the arm and bending down to whisper in his ear.

  Yimt paused in the middle of putting a pinch of crute in his mouth. "Who do you think gave them to me? Ally, I know how to mind my manners among the fey folk."

  "They gave them to you? Why?"

  "Miss Red Owl said something about never leaving a weapon on a battlefield."

  "She said that?" Alwyn asked.

  Yimt shrugged his shoulders. "Well, that's the gist of it. There was something about dark magic and perversion of nature and the like, but it all adds up to the same thing; don't leave a weapon around for your enemy to find and use against you."

  Alwyn couldn't argue with that logic, but he suspected there was probably a lot more to it.

  He looked ahead and saw that the elves were already through the clearing and disappearing into the woods. Irkila motioned for them to hurry. He lengthened his stride, surprised at how well he felt. For someone who had just been shot by an arrow, and probably a cursed one at that, he was keeping up. The elves of the Long Watch could teach the army surgeons a thing or two, though he couldn't really imagine a human doctor using leaves and moss.

  "Besides," Yimt continued, setting off at a slow trot while readjusting the bandage under his shako with one hand, "I think she might be a bit sweet on me. Did you hear how she called me Warm Breeze?"

  To his credit, Alwyn nodded and said nothing, wondering whether it was worth telling Yimt that the elf had politely suggested he was full of hot air.

  FORTY

  Bodies weren't supposed to have trees growing out of them.

  Five soldiers of the Thirty-fifth Foot lay sprawled in and around the mud-walled hut they'd commandeered as a forward outpost on the western bank of the river guarding the route toward Luuguth Jor. Each was impaled by a black sapling of a type of tree Konowa had only ever seen from a great distance until now.

  It was late afternoon, and the Iron Elves were still a good two-hour march away from the village and the tiny fortress, but Konowa figured that even if they were only two minutes away it wouldn't matter. Luuguth Jor would be a forest of death.

  Storm clouds threatened, but
for the moment the sun did its best to burn everything beneath it, and the smell of the dead was strong. Most curiously, however, no flies buzzed around the bodies.

  Konowa bent over in the saddle. The trees were excreting a dark ichor that ran over the deformed limbs and dripped off steel-colored leaves.

  "What is this?" Lorian asked, kneeling beside one of the dead soldiers and reaching out a gloved hand toward the black sapling that grew out of his chest.

  "A new forest for Her," Konowa said.

  Lorian's hand froze just above the tree. "Then the Shadow Monarch really is behind all this," he said, looking up at Konowa and then at his ruined ear.

  Konowa ignored his stare. He kicked his feet out of the stirrups and jumped off Zwindarra, throwing the reins over the horse's neck, giving him a pat on the withers, and telling him to stay. He walked to where Lorian was examining the body.

  It was a corporal, the silver stripes on his jacket sleeve still visible through the mud—and blood—that covered his uniform. He crouched by the body, silently cursing as his knee tried to buckle beneath him.

  "It's a sarka har," Konowa said, recognizing the twisted wood at once, "a blood tree." His father had told him many times of the High Forest and the fell magic that sustained the trees that fed on life.

  "Do you think this happened to the scouts?" Lorian asked, voicing a fear that had been building in Konowa from the moment they came upon the scene.

  "If they followed the river and were attacked, we would have seen this," he replied, pointing to the tree. "Either they are still ahead of us or they took a different route. The dwarf's a cagey one—I wouldn't count them out just yet." But Konowa wasn't really sure he believed Arkhorn could save his section from an evil like this.

  "I picked them," Lorian said, standing up suddenly, his voice quavering. "I sentenced them to this fate."