"You truly don't understand the power of the quill, do you? This one isn't for throwing," she said as she pulled a sheaf of paper from another fold in her robe. She held the quill over the paper, poised to begin sketching.
Konowa couldn't understand Rallie's game, but it didn't matter. He felt the truth in Her Emissary's words even as the warmth that had originally emanated from the light between the sapling and the Star began to wane. He shifted his grip on his saber and prepared to charge.
"There's no need, Major, Her Emissary will be leaving shortly. It should be quite an exit. I hope I can do it justice," she said, tentatively sketching in a few outlines.
"I will have the Star now!"
It took another step toward Rallie, the flames on its dagger leaping higher into the night.
The air sizzled and sparked between Her Emissary and Rallie. The acorn burned with cold anticipation against Konowa's chest, infusing his blood with shards of an ancient, dark power. This might be the Shadow Monarch's gift, but Konowa would use it to smite Her Emissary and damn the consequences. And this time, he wouldn't just kill the bastard, he'd annihilate it completely. He began to lift the broken saber, then found his arm unable to go any higher. He tried again to no avail.
"Major, if you please," Rallie said, her drawing becoming more vigorous. "I really do need to concentrate."
Konowa looked up and for the first time saw the sketch on Rallie's paper. It showed the tableau before them, but it wasn't stillit was moving. Light and shadow raced across the paper in a furious ebb and flow as Her Emissary and Rallie fought on a plane normal vision could not comprehend.
"Your parlor tricks won't hold me for long," Her Emissary said, taking another step forward. The very air appeared to bend around its body.
"They don't have to," Rallie said, suddenly turning the paper over with a flourish and beginning a new drawing.
Konowa caught a quick glimpse of the Duke of Rakestraw, a table, raised sabers, and a lit match.
Her Emissary stopped, its head cocked to the side as if listening to something. Then it shrieked.
"If at first you don't succeed…" Rallie said, drawing deeply on her cigar, the end glowing with red fire.
"My ryk faur!" The form that was Her Emissary wavered and then shattered into nothing.
Rallie nodded with satisfaction as she finished her sketch. "Not my best work, but I think my readers will get the general idea. Now," she said, putting her paper and quill away and looking lovingly at the young sapling, "what are we going to do with you?"
"You're going to give it to me." The Prince spoke up, stepping forward and holding out his hand. He cast his gaze around the battlefield and raised his voice. "I claim this prize in the name of Her Majesty the Queen, ruler of Calahr and all the lands of Her Empire."
Visyna's eyes flared, and Konowa knew it was only a matter of time before the situation got out of control.
"Your father should not have given you Her power, Konowa Swift Dragon."
The voice cut through the raised voices and for a moment everything was calm. It had been ten years since he heard that voice.
He turned to face Chayii Red Owl of the Long Watch. A squirrel perched nonchalantly on her shoulder, its fur smoking slightly.
"He was looking out for me, Mother," Konowa replied, his head swimming with emotion. "Without it, we'd all be dead."
Chayii walked up to him, stopping just outside the ring of frost. She traded a look of recognition with Rallie and then turned to him. "And with it, what are you then, my son? Long has it been since I saw you, and I would hold you to my chest as a mother would her child, yet you would burn me with Her poison." Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked upon him. She cocked her head to one side and then looked directly at Visyna. "And you. You are a weaver of the stuff of life. I feel it as I feel the land here cry out in its pain. Why did you allow this to happen?"
Visyna's mouth opened and closed several times. Konowa felt a throbbing at his temples.
"The Star must remain with its people here in Elfkyna," Visyna said at last. "It must be left here, where it was planted. This is where it is meant to be, to cleanse this land and destroy Her foul craft."
Chayii nodded at Visyna. "The witch is right."
"No, she is not!" shouted Prince Tykkin, banging his fist against his scabbard. "The Star will go to Calahr. I want that sapling dug up at once. Regiment! Ready arms!"
Bayonets leveled, their points glittering with frost in the predawn light. Elven archers notched arrows. Cold surged through Konowa.
"M-major…"
Konowa turned. He was amazed to see the dwarf, Corporal Arkhorn, making his way over the battlefield with several members of his patrol, carrying a wounded soldier. They had survived!
When they got closer Konowa saw that it was the young private who had flogged Kritton. Alwyn, that was his name, Alwyn Renwar. It mattered to Konowa that he remembered his name, especially when he saw that the young man was missing a leg, the stump wrapped in leaves and moss. Worse, however, was the shadow that cloaked him, marking him both human and shade.
"It's good to see you again," Konowa said. He paused before he went on. "What happened to the others? Private Kritton?"
Corporal Arkhorn shook his head. "Dead, or some version of it. Except Kritton. He ran off and we haven't seen him since."
Konowa wasn't sure what to think about that. Kritton was many things, but a coward?
"He'll be caught, punished, and shot," the Prince said, waving his hands in the air. "All of you will do well to remember that."
For answer, the dwarf gently laid Alwyn on the ground with the help of his patrol, then stood up and looked past them to the edge of the trees. The shades of Iron Elves stood arrayed in a line, their two-handed swords held in front of them. Behind them sat a dark figure on a horse, the shade's halberd ablaze in black flame.
"Lorian," Konowa said. The pain was too much. He felt his head spinning.
"The Star can break the oath, Major," Alwyn said, grimacing with each word. Konowa took a deep breath and looked at him. "It can break it for all of us."
"To use the power of the Star in that way now when it is still young would be too damaging to it. You know the danger in that. It would be like Her silver Wolf Oak only a thousandfold more terrible," Chayii said, pointing at the sarka har around them. "It must remain here to fight this. We will need its power." She looked down at Alwyn, a sad smile on her face. "I am sorry, Alwyn of the Empire, but the land's need is greater."
"This is preposterous!" Prince Tykkin said. "Major, I remind you of your duty. The only need that matters here is that of the Queen, who, may I add, would be most appreciative to have the Star. You would be a wealthy elf."
Konowa tried to imagine piles of gold and silver. He shook his head.
The Prince drew his sword. The metal was dull and gray and no black flame or frost marred it. "The Star is mine and I claim it now. Color Sergeant! Bring me that tree!"
Sergeant Aguom's eyes went wide, but he stepped forward anyway, slowly walking toward the sapling. Jir padded silently to stand beside the tree, his tail swishing menacingly. Konowa looked around him. He saw Private Vulhber, his towering frame easily recognizable among the soldiers. He wasn't looking at Konowa, or the Prince, but up into the night sky, as were all the Iron Elves.
Konowa felt a cold gaze on his neck and turned back to see Lorian and Zwindarra staring at him. He saw Meri, too, and elves he had known and thought lost forever. This was his chance to set them free, the dead and the living.
"Wait," Konowa said.
Sergeant Aguom let out a sigh and halted, still several feet away from the tree. The Prince looked as if he was about to step forward, but Konowa stopped him with a look.
It felt as if a mountain was pressing down on Konowa. He felt all of their stares, knew all of their desires, and knew that whatever he chose, many would hate him for it. He found himself drifting back to his banishment in the forest, before he'd found Jir.
He sensed the rising of the sun behind him and knew it was time. There was only one real choice.
Thoughts of his time in the birthing meadow came back to him. He saw the Shadow Monarch there, cradling the silver Wolf Oak, desperate to save it. He understood the desire and he understood why he could never give in to it.
"The Star must stay here where it belongs."
The first ray of sunlight stretched over the horizon and infused the sapling's leaves with a warm, pulsing light. The Star in the sky faded and disappeared even as the tree began to glow, its leaves flashing like a thousand shooting stars.
Then the tree burst into flame.
FIFTY-FIVE
Something tugged at the Viceroy's mind. He slowed the horse to a canter, trying to make sense of the feeling. A scream all too familiar to him tore through his head, sending him reeling. The horse reared and screamed as well, gnashing its teeth at nothing until they splintered, and still the scream did not end.
The table! Its pain was beyond measure. This was nothing like the fire of before. Worse, he was not there to protect it. Thoughts of vengeance and the star fled his mind as the screams grew in intensity. He fought to control the horse and managed to turn it around, digging his spurs deep into its sides, and galloped back toward the palace.
Fear and agony lent speed to the horse. The miles merged as all sense of time blurred into nothingness. He rode with screams echoing in his mind until he screamed, too, the pain as real as if it were his own. He rode with complete abandon, his hands clenched so tightly around the reins that the leather melded into his new flesh. The horse beneath him never tired, its gait as manic as the look in its eyes. The ground rushed past, the horse moving much faster than any horse the Viceroy had ever ridden, the animal's speed a raging hunger that ate the miles with savage appetite; yet it was not fast enough.
It was the smell that first assaulted his senses as the Viceroy pulled up in the rear courtyard of his palace, a thick, dry smell that overpowered the wet stench of the horse beneath him. He ripped his hands from the reins, barely feeling the sting of raw flesh exposed, and ran into the palace, climbing the steps to his bedroom four at a time.
He entered his bedchamber and saw the shattered door. He crossed to it and stepped through, his limbs shaking with fear and rage. He took two steps into the room and stopped, the horror of what he found too great to allow him to approach any closer.
Her creation, Her Emissary's ryk faur, his power…was now but a single-leg upturned with a white doily draped over the clawed foot. Resting on top was a small potted fern. A rustle of wings at the window made him turn, and he saw the white bird.
"Looks much better, if you ask me," the Duke of Rakestraw said, walking up to stand in the doorway behind him. "Gives the room a more homey feel."
The Viceroy tore his eyes away from the pelican and spun on his heels, his hands already clenching as he prepared to rend the very soul from the Duke's body. Before he could, something large and heavy hit him in the stomach, knocking him to the floor.
He looked down to see a large bag of ashes and charred wood spill on the flagstones around him.
"Thought you might like that, bit of a souvenir," the Duke said, casually strolling into the chamber. Several more soldiers of the Duke's cavalry stood equally at ease near the door, hands resting on saber hilts and pistol butts.
The Viceroy lurched to his feet, the hood of his cloak falling away as he did so.
The Duke turned back to him, his scarred face dominated by a wide grin. "Well, well, well, I see the table wasn't the only thing that got fried."
"You will pay for this!" the Viceroy shouted, stumbling to his feet, calculating the odds of killing them all. He was tired from the ride, it would be a close-run thing. "I will destroy you!"
The Duke stood a little straighter at the sound of his voice, but he did not back up. "You could try, but I think it'd be the last thing you did. By the way, that horse chase you sent me on worked out better than I thought. Not only did I round up enough horses to pay off all my debts with a tidy sum left over, I even had a bit extra to pay you back for your kindness," he said, waving a gloved hand toward the plant. "It was the very least I could do." The grin grew fiercer.
"When I got back and you weren't home, I found lovely Inja here, who was kind enough to show me around your accommodations. What, I said to myself, can I do to thank the Viceroy, and then Inja had a wonderful suggestion."
The Viceroy turned his glare on her, and she backed up a step. She, too, would suffer.
"No need to thank me," the Duke said, giving the fern a pat as he walked back out of the room, "it's what friends do." He paused at the door, one hand resting on the pommel of Wolf's Tooth, the other taking Inja gently by the arm. "Another thing friends do, Viceroy, is look after one another."
From the open window came the sound of the Viceroy's horse screaming in anger, followed by a volley of musket fire and a heavy thud.
"What was that?"
"That," the Duke said over his shoulder as he led Inja away, "is what you do to sick creatures. Worth keeping in mind, Viceroy."
Long after the echo of the Duke's horses had faded, the Viceroy remained standing in the middle of the room, his rage and despair pinning him to the spot like the weight of a hundred mountains.
Finally, his need to make the Duke of Rakestraw and the elfkynan stable girl pay propelled him to move.
He brushed the ashes from his cloak and turned and looked at what remained of the table. It took him a moment to feel the change in the air; it was growing colder. He leaned closer and saw the leaves of the fern slowly turning white, then black, as frost fire consumed them. He reached out a hand and touched the leg, but it felt as dead as the room around him.
"I don't understand…" the Viceroy said.
"You will," said Her Emissary, a dark shadow rising from the ashes, its anger flaming to life in the black dagger in its hand. "You will."
The screaming lasted all night.
FIFTY-SIX
The sun rose like a glowing ember caught high on a morning breeze, casting its light on the ruin of battle. The Colors were blown full out from their poles, their ends snapping as a strong wind picked up. Konowa stood in the middle of the battlefield, looking at what he'd done.
Everywhere, the trees burned. Their black limbs slashed the air in a futile attempt to put out the flames that consumed them. Screams filled his head as the sarka har died, their dark need extinguished in a blaze of pure, red light. The sapling towered above them all, now a great tree, its limbs reaching high into the sky. The Star was now a bridge between the earth and sky, a tree coursing with power so pure, so elemental that the very air around it thrummed like lead crystal.
The acorn against his chest beat with the rhythm of his heart, its cold need satisfied, its oath unbroken. At the very edge of his understanding, Konowa heard another scream. It confused him at first until he understood it wasn't a scream at all, but laughter.
The Shadow Monarch was laughing.
The Iron Elves stared at him in silence. Konowa had consigned them all to a fate none had asked for. In trying to save them, he had doomed them all.
In choosing to destroy Her forest here, Konowa had condemned the souls of the Iron Elves.
The enormity of it threatened to crush him where he stood. All he had ever wanted was a chance to make things right for the regiment and the soldiers he commanded.
Visyna had seen the truth, but he hadn't listened to her. He thought he could control the power, bend it to his will, but in the end all he managed to do was Her will.
The Shadow Monarch had deceived them all. She'd allowed Konowa's father to escape with the acorn from Her silver Wolf Oak, knowing the wizard would bring it to him. And she counted on Konowa's thirst for redemption, and like a fool he had allowed that desire to blind him to the truth.
The Shadow Monarch had never wanted the Star.
She wanted Her children back.
She wanted the Iron Elves.
Konowa raised his hand and let it brush the top of his ruined ear, feeling the scar that marked Her curse. He looked at the burning forest.
In the fire and the heat, a new purpose rose from the ashes.
A cold, merciless smile crept across Konowa's face as black frost began to sparkle along the shattered remnants of his saber. So the Shadow Monarch wanted Konowa and the Iron Elves for Her own. So be it. Konowa would show Her just how deadly it could be to get what you wished for.
All around him, the trees screamed as they burned.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I began taking riding lessons in the course of writing this book. I wasn't charged for the added bonus of learning how to fall.
I saved a fortune.
Still, each time I dusted myself off and climbed back into the saddle, I realized that writing a novel is not all that different. You are going to make mistakes. You are going to wonder why you ever embarked on this in the first place. You are definitely going to become intimate with entirely new types of fear. And you are going to feel an exhilaration unlike anything else.
Still, anyone who tells you writing is as easy as falling off a horse has never suffered the added indignity of being sat on by the same horse. When that happens, and it will, you'll want friends around. When they stop laughing, they usually help you up. I have such friends, and their support and adviceand laughterthroughout the writing of this novel saved me on more than one occasion, and for that I am in their debt.
My best friend, my brother, Michael, is always there for me, and always will be. You demonstrated just how deep fraternal bonds can go by reading every draft of this book and always finding something encouraging to say, even if it was to compliment me on my bold choice of black ink on white paper.
Deb Christerson, friend from the beginning, a writer of amazing vision, and a most kind and generous person. Hereafter and forever more, the dandelion beer is on me.
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