Chris Evans - The Light of Burning Shadows

“I can’t verify any of it other than the fact that there’s an angry mob now surrounding the palace grounds shouting for the Empire to leave or die. I need to get out into the streets to find out for sure.”

“Careful what you wish for, Color Sergeant,” Konowa said. He paused and ran through scenarios in his head. “Spread the word. I want every soldier ready to march inside the hour. Full packs, greatcoats, rations-everything.” It occurred to Konowa that Sergeant Arkhorn had unofficially taken over the duties of regimental sergeant major since Lorian’s death. Why wasn’t he here giving Konowa the report? “And have Sergeant Arkhorn report to me at once.”

Aguom grimaced. “Sir. Sergeant Arkhorn is one of the ones not here. It’s him and his old section that’s missing.”

Konowa gripped the hilt of his saber and let out a slow breath. “When were you planning to tell me this?”

“Honestly, sir, I wasn’t. Old Arkhorn is the best in the business. I figured he’d show up, probably at the head of a parade,” he said, the admiration clear in his voice. “Permission to speak candidly, sir?”

“Granted.”

“He don’t deserve to be flogged, sir, none of the boys do. Those islands were hell. If a man, or dwarf, wants to blow off some steam, I figure that’s his right after something like what we went through. If they aren’t back, it’s because Arkhorn found them a safe place to lie low.”

“No one’s being flogged,” Konowa said, frustrated that he hadn’t stopped the Prince from flogging several soldiers back in Elfkyna. It was the wrong way to discipline a soldier. Be firm. Be fair. And don’t ask them to do anything you wouldn’t do, and they’d follow you anywhere. Konowa wished he could have proven that to the troops, but the true ramifications of the Blood Oath had since become apparent, and the Prince had ordered no corporal punishment since.

“The men will appreciate that, sir,” Sergeant Aguom said.

“Just have them ready to march, Sergeant,” Konowa said. He saluted, dismissed the color sergeant, and turned to address the Prince. A violent roar went up from the crowd outside the gates. The number of voices sounded like thousands. Getting out of the palace wasn’t going to be easy.

“Major, I want the regiment on the march as quickly as possible,” the Prince said, buttoning up his new jacket.

Konowa noted that the Prince had no need to switch his medals and ribbons over from one jacket to another, as each tunic came fully decorated. “Sir, about last night-”

“I’ve heard enough to know we need to get out of here now and into the desert. I want the regiment ready. Now. That rabble will not stand in our way.”

“Very good, sir,” Konowa said, relieved to not have to answer questions. “I’ll see to it right away. But how are we going to get out? That crowd is ready to explode.”

The Prince quit fussing with his uniform and strolled over to stand beside Konowa. Konowa instinctively breathed out, hoping to avoid any more of the Prince’s cologne, but was surprised at not smelling any. He realized the Prince was also no longer wearing his personalized shako, the one several inches taller than standard issue. “Perhaps I inadvertently inspired them more than intended,” the Prince remarked.

“Inspired who, sir?”

Prince Tykkin turned to look at Konowa as if it were obvious. “The women, of course, Major. All my talk of a new order and changing the world must have gotten their blood up. Don’t you see? They divined that the next Star was returning and raced out to find it first. No doubt they intend to beat both of us to the punch.”

Konowa had trouble following the Prince’s logic at the best of times, and this was definitely not one of them. “You think they went out…to get the Star for themselves?”

The Prince smiled in that way that made Konowa daily reconsider his oath to serve and protect the Empire and its royal house. “Oh, no, not them. Don’t misunderstand-I hold all three ladies in the highest regard. Their intentions are pure, I am certain. They will find the Star and allow it to serve its function as guardian of these lands and peoples. After all, they wouldn’t want me getting hold of it and taking it back to Calahr. And they most definitely wouldn’t want you getting it and using its power to break the oath.”

“Sir?”

The Prince turned and looked Konowa straight in the eye. “Let’s be frank, Major. Things have changed. I’ve come to realize that capturing a Star for myself is not in my best interest. In fact, I’m better off letting the Star fulfill its apparent destiny. It’s the appearance of the Star that matters. That’s what unlocks the power. Think of it, Major. What’s a Star but a path to a treasure a thou-sandfold more rewarding? I’m after Kaman Rhal’s library. This new Star is going to lead me right to it. That’s the real prize.”

Konowa found himself staring at the Prince with something close to admiration. The feeling was as odd as it was unsettling. “Very clever, sir, but what of the elves stationed in the desert? You aren’t suggesting we forsake them out there?”

“On the contrary, Major, I want you to find your elves more than ever. You see, it occurs to me that I’m not the only one who has come to reassess things,” the Prince said. He smoothed out a nonexistent crease in his uniform jacket before continuing. “What would have happened if you had used the Red Star in Elfkyna to break the oath? You and the regiment would have been freed, but at the cost of losing this power you now wield. And without this power, how will you ever take the battle to the Shadow Monarch and finish Her off once and for all?”

“We would find a way, oath or no oath,” Konowa said, the conviction in his voice strong. “But as it stands, this regiment is the most powerful in the entire Calahrian Imperial Army with the oath in place. For the time being, I think it would be foolish to throw that advantage away.”

“I don’t suppose the troops see it that way,” the Prince said, watching as soldiers hurried past in preparation for their departure.

“No, they wouldn’t,” Konowa said. “But they don’t understand things the way we do.” Even as the words left his lips, Konowa felt a twinge of shock at saying them. “And it’s the same with Kaman Rhal’s power. If we find it, we should attempt to use it or forge an alliance with it to defeat the Shadow Monarch. The oath will be broken when the Shadow Monarch is dead, and the quickest way to do that is to employ any and all means we find.”

Prince Tykkin looked at Konowa for several seconds as if seeing him for the first time. “A thought worth considering, Major.”

“Sir, we still have to get out of the palace. The city is seething. We might have to fight our way out,” Konowa said, hoping that wouldn’t be the case.

“You get the regiment ready and let me worry about that.” The Prince saluted and turned and walked away, looking over his shoulder once at Konowa.

Konowa had no time to reflect on that. A group of fifty soldiers from the 3rd Spears, the regiment of dark-skinned warriors from the Timolia Island chain, stood off to one side of the courtyard. As soon as they saw Konowa was free, they stood to attention. It was a magnificent sight. No man looked to be under six feet tall. Unlike the Iron Elves, they wore the traditional uniform of the Calahrian infantry, including the standard dark gray trousers, but they went without boots. The bottom of each pant leg was bound tight around their calves by a long, thin strip of black cloth called a puttee. Konowa marveled that they could march into battle in bare feet, let alone over the hot cobbles of Nazalla.

Each soldier carried a musket slung over one shoulder, but in keeping with their native tradition, instead of regulation bayonets, their muskets sported ones twice as long. Five of them only wore pistols, as they carried the eight-foot-long spears from which the 3rd Spears derived their name. Konowa had seen those spears in combat-spear points filed to create sawlike edges, inflicting truly horrific damage on flesh.