by Chris Evans
“I’ll have him put on mess detail, or assigned to assist my mother and Visyna with caring for the wounded. We just need time.” This was something that had kept Konowa up at night. What if the oath could be broken? Would that really be in their best interest right now? They needed power to fight the Shadow Monarch’s forest and Her creatures, and through the oath they had found it. So what if it was the enemy’s power? Konowa had swung an orc axe in battle when his musket had been knocked from his hands. This was no different.
“Having him peel potatoes won’t stop what’s been set in motion,” Rallie said. “Unless the oath is broken, he will end his life. Eventually, I fear that most of them will, one way or another. You know this.”
Konowa took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Resentment, anger, insubordination—these he could deal with from soldiers under his command. But this? Yes, none of the soldiers had bargained for this, but they were soldiers and they would obey. Without that single tenet no army could function, and no empire could survive. To break the oath now would be to weaken them when they needed their strength the most.
“We’ll find my elves, Rallie, we’ll find them and I’ll set things right.”
“I hope you do, Major. One of my sreex couriers found us the other day. It brought news of events in Calahr. Apparently my readers and a good many citizens of the Empire at large have been following your exploits with growing enthusiasm. The Iron Elves are the talk of Celwyn and a thousand villages and roadhouses throughout the lands. The orc drums are even reported to be carrying the story, though you are not portrayed in as flattering a light as in my accounts.”
Konowa tried to imagine it and failed. Did people not have their own lives to live? “The orcs care?”
“Absolutely,” Rallie said, her eyes shining at the very thought. “Everyone does. Things have gone so far that the One-Eared Donkey in the dwarf quarter of Celwyn now has a drink dubbed the Iron Elf. The exact ingredients are a closely guarded secret, but they say it’ll take you to the beyond and back…eventually.”
The idea that people read about their exploits galled Konowa. “This is a joke to them? Men are dying out here.”
“Come now, Major. When have things ever been any different? Somewhere in a distant land, elves, men, dwarves, and even orcs are always dying while back home others go to work, or the pub, and home to their wives, or at least somebody’s wife. Would you really trade your life for theirs?”
The thought of trudging to a job in a mill, or a foundry, or even worse, an office with a desk and quill and ink bottle was enough to set Konowa’s stomach on edge again. “No, but there are times when I wish my life could be simple like theirs. Where things are clear. You know the right course to take and your mistakes don’t cost lives.”
Rallie’s laughter startled a couple of seagulls perched on the railing farther down. “Simple, my dear Major, is definitely not a word I would use to describe anything about you. And lives are lost every day in the “simple world,” more, I wager, than are lost on a battlefield. But what happens out here has repercussions far greater than anything that happens back in Celwyn. And that’s why you’re out here, and not back there.”
Konowa grunted. “I take it the same can be said about you. This isn’t exactly a sightseeing expedition we’re on. It’s hard enough for young men let alone someone as o—” Konowa suddenly found himself staring into a pair of eyes with very little humor in them, “—oooccupied with affairs of state as you.”
Rallie held his gaze a beat longer and then smiled and turned back to watch the dock. “You are a charmer, Swift Dragon. Why am I out here risking life and limb when I could be at home tucked under a nice warm shawl? The answer is simple. You. Them, the Iron Elves. The Prince. The Shadow Monarch. All of this. And of course, the Stars.”
Konowa instinctively looked to the sky, but all he got for his troubles was wind-whipped rain in his face. He wiped his brow and squinted up at the clouds and tried to see a glimmer of a star in the night sky beyond, but the weather remained obstinate and he gave up.
“That’s a subject I’ve noticed you haven’t written much about in your reports back home,” Konowa said. “Everywhere you go, there are legends about Stars of power. Even the orcs have them. But for all that, no one really knows anything.” He shifted his position on the railing and looked again at the dock. Still no sign of the harbormaster.
“There’s little to know and even less to write about,” Rallie said, perhaps a bit too quickly. “The Red Star fell and Elfkyna was saved. Rumors abound, of course, but thus far only one Star has seen fit to return.”
Something was nagging at the back of Konowa’s mind, but he couldn’t put a finger on it. “You know more about this than you’re letting on, don’t you? The myth of the Red Star in the east proved to be true, which means the other Stars must be real as well.”
Rallie paused to look around them before speaking. “That is an assumption based on a solid supposition.”
Konowa scratched his head. “I’m not sure, but I think you just agreed with me. You do know more about this. You welcomed back the Star at Luuguth Jor almost as if you knew it.”
Rallie huffed. “How old do you think I am, Major? There might be a few creases in my carrying case,” she said, pointing to her face, “but do you really think I am that ancient?”
Konowa held up his hands in surrender. “It’s just that, well, you’re a witch,” he said, adding hurriedly, “in a good way. Aren’t you?”
“Am I a witch, or am I good?”
Konowa decided it was best to stop talking and merely nodded.
“Yes,” Rallie said.
Konowa walked his brain around that answer for a moment and concluded it was best to leave it be. He tried another tack.
“So do you know where and when the next Star will fall? Knowledge like that would be worth its weight in gold.”
“A hundred times over, no doubt,” Rallie said. She smiled and began pulling her cloak tight around her. The wind still whipped spray off the waves though the Black Spike rode at anchor with the solidity of a stone castle. “The gulf between what I know and what I think I know remains vast at this juncture, and until I can fill in some of that chasm with good, hard facts, I prefer to keep my own counsel.”
“And that of my mother and Visyna,” Konowa said, knowing he sounded petulant and not caring. The three women had become known, and with some affection, as “Which Witch is Which” by the soldiers.
“Not even the Prince presumes to intrude on the deliberations of three women of certain…abilities,” Rallie said.
Konowa knew danger when it spoke softly. “My apologies. You just have no idea how frustrating it is to be kept in the dark.”
Rallie tapped her upper lip with her finger and opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. A moment later she tried again, but Konowa could tell she had changed her mind about something.
“Trust me when I say this, Major. You’ll soon know more than you wish you did. Now,” she said, turning to leave, “I really should retire. We’re going to have a very busy morning.”
Konowa was tempted to ask if that was another veiled vision of the future, but he needn’t have bothered. He considered recent history and concluded that if something could go wrong for him, it most certainly would.
TEN
White sails dotted Nazalla Bay in all directions, as if a flock of geese had descended during the night seeking refuge from the storm. Konowa stopped counting ships after thirty and began hacking at a wooden beam with his saber until the splinters erupted in frost fire. It took the next couple of minutes of furious stamping to put them out.
Sheathing his saber, he went looking for the Prince. Rallie, Visyna, and his mother intercepted him on the main deck and blocked his path. Konowa wasn’t in the mood. He picked up his pace to walk through them, but the looks of the three women were enough to halt his charge. As angry as he was, he wasn’t prepared to challenge three women of their very specific abilit
ies. The realization had him clenching both fists so hard that his hands shook.
“Did you know?” he asked. His jaw ached and he forcibly unclenched it. “Did you all know?”
Visyna glared back at him while his mother simply stared and Rallie looked as if she was about to burst out laughing.
“We knew, to a point at least,” Rallie said. “I did say your morning would be busy.”
Konowa swung his arm wildly out at the bay and the scores of ships at anchor. “There’s a bloody great fleet out there! We’re here to find the Iron Elves, not mount an expedition to conquer new territory!”
“Thirty-some ships is not exactly an armada,” Rallie said, “but your point is taken. The Queen, however, sees things differently, or rather, she sees more than one opportunity here. You and your regiment are causing quite the stir back home. Your search for the original Iron Elves has captured many an imagination, including the Queen’s. So while you look for your former soldiers, Her Majesty plants her flag on a few more hills and stakes out claims on any future Stars that might fall, the Prince gains experience and credibility as future King, all the while collecting for his precious repository of knowledge, the Shadow Monarch is thwarted, and the stirrings of rebellion are smothered in their cradles. She plays a very deep game, the Queen.” Rallie’s voice was filled with obvious admiration.
Konowa locked his hands behind his back to keep himself from grabbing Rallie by her cloak. He looked for something to kick, but nothing appropriate was in the vicinity. Giving up, he paced to the left, then back, slamming his boots down so hard his spine hurt. He brought his hands back down to his sides and forced himself to stand still.
“Why. Not. Tell. Me!”
Visyna continued to glare at him. “Look at your hands.”
Konowa raised his fists, and his anger bled away as quickly as it had risen. Black frost fire wreathed his hands. Only then did he realize his breath was misting in the air and the black acorn against his chest was thrumming with cold power. He hadn’t noticed any of it.
“That, my dear Major, is our point,” Rallie said.
Chayii shook her head. “You are no longer in control of this, my son. Your anger clouds your judgment and She works Her will.” She held up her hands to forestall his protest. “You are proud, and you are strong, and you believe you can defeat Her, but you won’t. Not like this.”
Konowa wasn’t having it. “You’re wrong. I can control this. I do control it. The Prince is still alive, isn’t he?”
All three looked surprised, though it was Visyna who spoke. “And would he still be now if we hadn’t found you first? I do not see eye to eye with His Highness on most things, but he is the heir to the throne, so I try. You, on the other hand, see a few ships in the harbor and immediately go looking for a confrontation. What would you have done? You have a power you shouldn’t possess—the whole regiment does—but even they exercise more restraint than you.”
A hangover after a three-day bender with his friend the Duke of Rakestraw didn’t feel as bad as Konowa’s head did now. This really isn’t happening.
“I’m a grown elf. I lead a regiment of soldiers. I risk death and worse in service of the Empire, and yet I’m treated like a child. I’d cry, but that would only add to the agony.” Konowa pinched the bridge of his nose, checking first to ensure the frost fire was out, and shrugged his shoulders. He looked up at them. “Fine…the three of you seem to be well informed, so you tell me. What happens now?”
For an answer, Prince Tykkin strode into their midst. He was actually whistling. He placed a boot forward and doffed his shako while bending at the waist, sweeping his other arm before him. He was positively giddy, and Konowa understood why the three women had intercepted him.
He really and truly wanted to do harm to the bastard.
The Prince smiled as he stood up and fixed his shako back on his head. His face was browner and leaner, having lost the doughy-white complexion he’d had when they’d first met. It only added to Konowa’s fury to realize the sea voyage had actually agreed with the Prince’s constitution while Konowa had lost more meals than he ate.
“Ah, ladies, Major. Isn’t it a grand sight? You see, Major, there was a method to all of my meticulous planning,” the Prince said, his voice strong and assured. “It requires time to put together the men and material you see before you, and these are just the vanguard. To make all of this possible we needed time. Taking the seven islands gave us that time.”
“That time was bought in blood,” Konowa remarked.
The Prince’s smile wavered, but then brightened again. “I know, Major, and every fallen soldier will be honored. I have already written to the Royal Mint and instructed that a medal be struck commemorating the island battles. Every soldier in the regiment will receive one. In addition, the families of the dead, and of any of those who may yet die, will receive a stipend as a further mark of the Empire’s gratitude for their service.”
“Some money, and a medal,” Konowa said flatly.
“That is but the first. I am drawing up sketches now for another medal commemorating our time here in the desert. The Iron Elves will know glory and honor again,” the Prince said. He half turned and smiled at the women, each of whom was keeping an eye on Konowa.
“A thoughtful gesture, your Highness,” Rallie said.
Prince Tykkin brushed at the cuff of his uniform. “A necessary one, actually. I’ve come to know these men. We might wish to think they all serve for the greater good, but it’s apparent to me now that a reward and even a good drink are equally strong motivational factors. If news of the medal doesn’t lift their spirits, I know a night on the town will, eh, Major?”
Konowa kept his fingers pressed firmly against his trousers and willed himself to remain calm. The Prince’s I’ve come to know these men still rang in Konowa’s ears. He didn’t trust himself to speak.
“I’m sure all of us will appreciate being ashore again after the last few weeks,” Visyna said.
“Indeed. In fact,” Prince Tykkin said, ignoring Konowa’s silence, or perhaps happy to have it, “we will do things properly. The Calahrian Empire is here in force. These lands have been left relatively lawless and free of Imperial rule save for our securing of trade routes. Bandits, thieves, brigands—it’s been all but ungovernable.” Here the Prince’s voice hardened. “That ends today. And it ends grandly. We will not simply row ashore and—how do they say it—order a few pints.” No, we will march down the main street to the city center and the message will go out that Calahr is still the power to be reckoned with.”
Konowa avoided the eyes of the three women and spoke. “What about our true reason for being here? We must find the original Iron Elves.”
The Prince smiled at Konowa and spoke to him as if he were a bit slow-witted. “And we will, Major, we will. Put your fears to bed, for I am as eager as you for this reunion to take place. Rest assured, when we are finished here, the Hasshugeb Expanse and all that inhabit it will be ours, including your precious elves. I realize you might not see it from your vantage point, but we’ve been presented with a glorious opportunity here.”
“What opportunity is that?” Konowa asked.
“What opportunity?” The Prince looked at the women, then back to Konowa. “I’ve spoken at length with my very sage council here about much of this. They have come to see and appreciate my reasoning, as I trust you will, too. I must say, however, that I admire their sense of discretion. I had half expected them to have whispered enough of my designs to keep you informed.”
“Apparently they chose otherwise,” Konowa said.
“So it appears,” the Prince said, unable to hide a smirk. “Well, no doubt they, like me, wanted you unburdened with matters of great consequence so that you could focus instead on the battles at hand. Battles, I might add, that you handled admirably. Her Majesty’s Scribe has not spared the ink in writing your praises for the good people back home.”
The Prince’s jovial manner dissipated as
he said this. Konowa had read enough of Rallie’s reporting to understand why the Prince might be less than thrilled with her. While she was always careful to include something about His Highness as colonel of the regiment, it was Konowa and the soldiers themselves that got most of her attention.
“My editor has a keen nose for what sells, and the Iron Elves—these particular Iron Elves—move copy,” Rallie said.
“Of course, of course,” the Prince said with studied indifference. “They are a simple folk, after all.” His smile quickly returned and he doffed his shako again, his flourish even more elaborate than before. “My hat off to you again, my ladies. In keeping the major in the dark, you did all womanhood everywhere proud by showing gossip is not a natural state of being for the fairer sex.”
The three women were a sudden study in repressed emotion. Barely. Konowa knew that with these three, looks could indeed kill. Another time Konowa would have enjoyed this immensely, but not now.
“You were talking about an opportunity,” Konowa reminded the Prince.
“Not just any opportunity, Major, the opportunity of a lifetime. It’s the Stars.” The Prince’s voice grew soft, but his eyes burned bright.
“We only know of the one,” Konowa said, “and it’s now a guardian protecting the lands of the elfkynan.” Something like the Wolf Oaks of the great forest of the Hyntaland, the Star had transformed itself into a majestic tree following the battle of Luuguth Jor. It had become a bridge between the sky and the earth, a channel for the elemental power of nature to spread across the land and protect it from the Shadow Monarch’s encroachments.
The Prince’s sunny disposition clouded over at the mention of the Star now turned into a tree. “Yes, a result I do not intend to see repeated.” Prince Tykkin had very much wanted the Star for his collection. He took a deep breath and forced the smile back on his face. “Of course, the Star is much more than simply a protector, Major. It is a symbol. It is the harbinger of change. It is the return of a power long gone from this world. It’s…” The Prince broke off and looked with wonder at Konowa. “Major, the Stars are like you. Once a force in the world, then sent away when that force became uncontrollable, and now returned and put to good use when that energy is needed the most.”
