Chris Evans - The Light of Burning Shadows

Konowa was immediately suspicious.

“What did you say this thing was called, sir?”

The Prince, already mounted on his animal, laughed. “It has many names, Major. Ship of the desert, dromedary, even sand horse, though camel is the most common.”

Konowa took a few steps closer, then stopped when his eyes began to water and his gag reflex stretched his jaw muscles until they ached.

“Is it supposed to smell like that?”

“They do give off a certain earthy odor, don’t they,” the Prince said, his smile unaffected by the pungent musk.

This was one of the many things that bothered Konowa about Prince Tykkin. He was a puffed-up piece of royalty who saw everything as some kind of adventure. It didn’t matter if it was dog-spiders, the Shadow Monarch’s Emissary, or a smell strong enough to rust metal-to the Prince they were all minor inconveniences that would not be allowed to interfere with his plans. And the truly galling thing was, they didn’t. Even when he was thwarted, as when he lost the chance to control the Star at Luugoth Jor, the Prince simply threw a tantrum, then brushed the incident aside and found a new adventure to tackle.

The latest was preparing to lead a ceremonial parade through the streets of Nazalla just past noon under a blazing sun. Konowa squinted and looked toward the city. The cobblestone street they were to march on was bleached white by the sun and felt like the inner wall of a furnace. The effect was stifling. It was the kind of heat Konowa referred to as “stupid.” Discipline melted under this kind of sun, and keeping soldiers in line became as challenging as any enemy. Flies buzzed around the assembled soldiers in black sheets. Konowa saw more than one flicker of frost fire as the flies were burned, but he chose to ignore it. He had much, much bigger problems.

The Iron Elves, along with the 5th and 12th infantry regiments, the 3rd Spears from the Timolia Islands, and two troops of artillery cobbled together from some very unhappy naval captains-who had to give up both cannon and crew to man them-were to march in formation, complete with a band, into the city center. No preparations were made at all if the welcome was anything less than joyful, and Konowa had yet to experience one of those. Normally, people started by throwing rocks at you, and it went downhill from there.

“Come now, Major, we are entering the city at the head of the Calahrian Empire. We must show the people that we are powerful, but also respectful of their customs. Regular horses don’t fare well here, so we will ride these. It is fitting.”

Walking on two feet is fitting, Konowa thought, and it’s highly unlikely they’ll run off of their own accord, then turn around and try to stomp you.

“I’d still like to send in a few patrols first and assess the situation, sir.” A few children and some enterprising peddlers had come out to greet them, but that happened no matter what the town or what the war. “We really don’t know what our reception will be like when we get into the city proper. And once we’re in there, we’ll be hemmed in by buildings on all sides. It could be a trap.”

“Have a little faith. My proclamation was sent out by Rallie’s sreexes the moment we got here and all returned safe and unharmed. The Viceroy himself will no doubt have everything ready for our arrival.”

The idea of trusting to yet another Viceroy sent a shiver up Konowa’s spine that had nothing to do with the power of Her magic pressed against his chest.

“Perhaps, but it could also be the perfect way to lure us in,” Konowa said, knowing he was going to lose the argument.

“Then let them lure! We are unassailable. The combined firepower of the fleet’s cannon would turn this city to dust if it comes to that, but I suspect we’ll be more than a match for anything we find.”

Konowa refrained from pointing out that they, too, would be in the middle of the city when the cannonballs struck, and instead tried to recall his conversations with Visyna. Despite their inability to see eye to eye on most everything, he found her words swirling around in his head often. One that stuck was “diplomatic.” Konowa decided to give it a try.

“No doubt we would prevail, sir, and the men and I appreciate your confidence in our abilities. I was thinking, however, that we might consider approaching on foot. We’d show the people we are with them, you know at their level…”

The Prince leveled his stare at Konowa and held it for several seconds. Konowa felt dirty-if this was what diplomacy made a person do, he wanted no part of it.

“Major, you really must get over your issues with animals. Is it possible you lost the natural elvish affinity for nature’s creatures when you lost your ear tip?”

Konowa’s left hand was halfway up to his ruined point before he stopped it. “I get along well enough with Jir,” he said, frustrated that his furry companion was currently collared and chained inside Rallie’s covered wagon. He could still hear the squawking from the caged sreexes though the wagon was over a half mile back.

“A carnivore,” the Prince said, his voice becoming dry. “Yes, I have noticed that. Tell me, Major, have you ever stopped to consider that when you have more in common with a four-legged predator than the people around you, it might be time to reconsider your approach to life?”

“Is that an order?” Konowa asked.

Prince Tykkin appeared to think about this for a moment, then spoke. “I dare say it wouldn’t matter if it was. You, Major, are the least elflike elf I have ever met. The dwarf has more affinity with nature than you. I’m beginning to think the wars you wage are more with yourself than with anyone else…including me.”

Konowa didn’t know what to say. He realized that the Prince wasn’t entirely wrong. He was at war, and no one understood the battles he fought. Perhaps, he reconsidered, Private Renwar might. His train of thought got no further as a great ball of a man in a Calahrian Diplomatic Corps uniform came huffing up to stand at attention by the Prince’s mount.

Mostly.

The man tried to stand at attention, but kept doubling over trying to catch his breath. Each time he stood up and started to speak, his body would quiver and he’d be back down with both hands on his knees.

The Prince was clearly amused, graciously allowing the man time to catch his wind, which piqued Konowa’s curiosity.

“Major Swift Dragon, meet the exalted Viceroy and Queen’s representative in these parts, Pimrald Alstonfar. Pimmer, say hello to the infamous Iron Elf.”

Sweat streamed off the face of the Viceroy as he stood up long enough to shake Konowa’s hand, then doubled over again and heaved in a few more breaths. The Prince laughed and shook his head.

“Pimmer and I were in school together, not exactly a state secret I suppose. He was known even then as an overachiever, although sadly it was at the dinner table.”

Konowa could believe that. Corpulent didn’t begin to do him justice. Swollen seemed a better description. Pimmer’s jowls oozed over the collar of his uniform so that it was impossible to see the braiding there. The silver-plated buttons looked poised to shoot off like musket balls as the fabric stretched taut around his frame. His boots splayed outward to keep his considerable center of mass in an upright position.

The first stirrings of pity rose up in Konowa, then were quickly snuffed out. Pimmer no doubt owed his position as Viceroy to strings pulled by the Prince. The result was a crony placed in a position of authority while those better qualified were passed over. This was the man who oversaw the Calahrian interests in the Hasshugeb Expanse, which meant he was responsible for the welfare of Konowa’s former elves. The last vestiges of pity were swallowed up by a growing sense of outrage.