Chris Evans - The Light of Burning Shadows

“Changing?” Yimt lifted up the hem of his caerna and scratched at his thigh while he pondered the question. “I tried warming a cup of arr the other day between my hands, you know, calling up a bit of the frost fire. All I managed to do was light my beard on fire, and the arr was colder than when I started.”

“You’re making fun of me,” Alwyn said. Yimt should understand. He took the oath as well.

“Don’t get your caerna in a twist,” Yimt said, smiling at him. “I just don’t think it’s as bad as you make out. Sure, we might be doomed to eternal service in the afterlife, but if we’re still serving then we can’t exactly be after life, see? I’ll tell you this, Ally, having already put in a few decades in Her Majesty’s employ…traipsing hither and yon about the Empire…visiting smelly little villages with nasty little people chucking all kinds of sticks and stones and spells at you…I have to say, it ain’t that bad. Personally,” Yimt said, changing his scratching to his beard, “I can see some up sides.”

Alwyn looked out to sea and tried to find the view Yimt saw there.

“C’mon, Ally, we can chaw this over back at camp. Doesn’t do a fellow any good to be out alone in a place like this. What were you doing up here anyway?”

Alwyn shook his head. “Nothing. I just came up here for a walk and to get some fresh air. Miss Tekoy says I need to keep in motion to get the stump used to the new leg.” Just a month ago a black arrow crafted by a dark art and wielded by an even darker creature had pierced his thigh. In the effort to save his life, Alwyn lost more than his leg that night. “And Miss Red Owl says I need to keep active so that I don’t dwell on…things. She’s teaching me meditation.”

Yimt cast an appraising eye at Alwyn’s wooden leg. Both Visyna Tekoy and Chayii Red Owl had crafted it from a living tree, magically entwining several slender branches into an intricate and flexible design. Yimt stepped closer and looked up, locking eyes with him. “Aye, couple of witchy women there, they oughta know. Wise to heed them, Ally. They only want what’s best for you.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Alwyn said, trying to believe it. Around him, the shades still waited. The shadow of Meri moved closer, his one eye like a dark portal offering Alwyn a path far away from here, though Alwyn knew Yimt couldn’t understand.

“I’m always right,” Yimt said, thumping his chest. “In fact, if I was a betting man, I’d say the two of them joined us on our little sailing adventure as much for you as for the major. I figured they’d stay back in Elfkyna with the rest of those Long Watch elves to look over the tree-star thing in Luuguth Jor, but I think you’ve become a bit of a project.”

“A project?”

Yimt nodded. “Aye. See, women, no matter their age or race or even how witchy they are, like to work on projects, and by projects I mean men. The more screwed up or in need of repair the man is, the happier womenfolk are. And, Ally, between you and the major, I’d say those ladies have got their hands full for a long time to come.”

“You always know just what to say,” Alwyn said, not sure if he should be touched or offended by the idea. Where Yimt was concerned it was always a close-run thing.

Shrugging, Alwyn began to turn around to head back down the slope. Yimt reached out and grabbed him by the elbow, stopping him. He gently took the musket from his hands and eased the hammer back into place then handed it back to Alwyn.

“A fellow wants to be careful with a loaded weapon, especially out here.”

For a moment, there was only Yimt, his friend, on the ridgeline with Alwyn. He looked into the dwarf’s eyes and saw the concern.

“I’ll try to remember that,” Alwyn said.

Yimt beamed, flashing his metal-colored teeth. “Not to worry, Ally, not to worry. As long as Sergeant Arkhorn’s around, you’ll have me to remember it for you. We’ve got some serious glory and gallantry ahead of us and I sure as hell ain’t about to face it alone. A fellow can only wear so many medals afore folks start to think he’s a bit full of himself, y’know? Now get a move on. I got a turtle roasting on the fire…at least I think it’s a turtle, and you want to eat it while it’s still warm.”

Alwyn smiled this time, a real smile. “Then get down there and save me a piece. I never miss a chance to try some of your cooking. I try, but unfortunately I never miss.”

Yimt raised one bushy eyebrow and wagged a thick finger at him. “Cheeky bugger,” he said, turning and heading down the slope. “I’ll save you some of the brains; you can never have too many.”

Alwyn watched him for a while until the shadows closed in again. Meri came to stand beside him.

“Join us, Alwyn.” The others joined in, each urging him on. “ Join us. ”

Alwyn gripped his musket, but this time no frost fire danced along it. He started to limp down toward the campfire, the pain in his stump reminding him with each step of what he had already lost, but also of what still remained. The shadows on the ridgeline did not follow, but kept their hands outstretched.

“Not yet,” Alwyn said back to them, “not yet.”

Major Konowa Swift Dragon, second in command of the Calahrian Empire’s Iron Elves, stood on the bow of his small boat in the predawn darkness regretting his decision to eat before setting out for Wikumma Island. His stomach roiled. Each surge and wallow of the boat acted like a punch to his gut. Sweat drenched his face and stung his eyes, making it hard to see, though in this darkness it made little difference. Someone, or more specifically, something on the island ahead of them was going to pay for his suffering. He stood up a little straighter and spat into the wind.

“Damn it!”

He wiped off his face and looked over his shoulder. Lanterns wrapped in heavy canvas and hung from iron pikes gave off a feeble orange glow, illuminating the boat and its complement of sailors and Iron Elves. Konowa cursed the need for any light at all, but the men in the boat did not have elven eyes. Looking beyond the boat he could just make out their starting point, Her Majesty’s seventy-two-gun ship-of-the-line Black Spike. If all went well, they would be back on her decks by nightfall.

Konowa returned his gaze forward. Somewhere ahead of them lay Wikumma Island, the last and southernmost in a chain of seven islands in the Onmedan Sea stretching between Elfkyna and the Hasshugeb Expanse. The six previous islands had been-for lack of a better word-infested with the Shadow Monarch’s growing forest. The small populations that had lived on the islands-mostly fishermen and their families-had been slaughtered by Her forest, leaving not a man, woman, or child alive. Each island was a sun-drenched horror, and Konowa grew angrier with every gruesome discovery.

This had to stop. He had to take the fight directly to the Shadow Monarch. For Konowa, that meant finding the original Iron Elves and marching straight to Her mountain. That She wanted the original elves for Her designs as She wanted Konowa made it all the more crucial Konowa find them first. The power he wielded was incredible, and he was the least magical elf that had ever set foot in a forest. Even some of the human soldiers showed a knack for using the frost fire, albeit with haphazard results. While the power of the blood oath bound every soldier in the regiment, its magical properties resided primarily with its only remaining elf, Konowa. Imagining what the Shadow Monarch could do with a highly trained regiment of elves completely under Her control made even Konowa shudder.

The bow of the boat dipped and took a wave over the top, spraying Konowa from head to foot.