Chris Evans - The Light of Burning Shadows

“-most idiotic th…ever seen!” Yimt shouted at Alwyn as he leaned over him. “-let that thing eat you…were you thinking?”

Alwyn closed his eyes and turned away. He had been so close.

Next time, he vowed, as the pain in his shoulder spread and the nerves in his body reacted to the violence of the last two minutes. He opened his mouth to scream as a new wave of pain washed over him, but he blacked out before he could.

A coldness came over Konowa that defied the heat of the desert sun.

He knew somewhere ahead of them the missing soldiers and the three women were in trouble. He pounded his fist against his thigh in frustration and turned to look back over the column.

Midway back, the Prince and the Viceroy chatted amiably on their camels. Affixed to the saddle furniture on their camels were two large, green parasols trimmed with silver brocade, which swayed above their heads while providing ample shade. The rocking motion of the green canvas brought to mind ocean waves, and Konowa’s stomach gurgled in distress. He quickly looked past the parasols to see the sun glinting off spear tips marking the position of the Timolian soldiers of the 3rd Spears.

Bringing up the rear now that they were safely out of Nazalla were two supply wagons pulled by mules and three cannons pulled by donkeys. Konowa was unclear on the distinction between the animals and didn’t care, as both had a tendency to bite and kick. The cannons, two nine-pounders and one six-pounder, were naval equipment left in the palace grounds for show after the parade through Nazalla. Unfortunately, there was only enough powder and shot for fifteen rounds each. Konowa doubted it would be enough if they ran into trouble, but then that seemed to be the constant state of things. Marching sullenly alongside the cannons were their naval gun crews, no doubt cursing the sea of sand they now found themselves in.

Konowa felt for every marching soldier. The Iron Elves trudged with their heads bent forward and a silence that spoke volumes about their general mood. The oppressive heat from the sun above and the broiling sand below produced a scorching environment not even magically bound soldiers like the Iron Elves could ignore. It was past noon, but that still meant hours of energy-sapping heat before the brief cool of the evening brought any relief, followed by a freezing cold-if the Suljak was to be believed-that would create a whole new set of problems. The smart thing to do would be to wait for nightfall and march then, but time, as was so often the case, was not on their side.

The Jewel of the Desert was indeed returning, and though Konowa couldn’t point to a single piece of concrete evidence to prove it to himself or anyone else, he knew it was tonight. Maybe he was finding a way to finally make sense of his elven heritage, and this both intrigued him and concerned him. He had tried in the past to understand the natural order, and usually got kicked in the arse for his efforts. This time, however, he could feel it. He was seeing what Visyna and his mother saw, although he suspected not in the same way. The Star was going to fall somewhere in the Canyon of Bones near Suhundam’s Hill and his original Iron Elves…and if they didn’t pick up the pace he wouldn’t be there when it did.

“I believe the expression is a watched pot never boils, though I’ve never quite understood that, because of course the pot will indeed boil whether it’s observed or not,” the Suljak said, talking matter-of-factly as he rode alongside Konowa. The camels kept pace and moved across the sand with ease, if not with grace. Konowa’s back and neck ached from the constant jostling, and he was unable to find the rhythm of the animal. He suspected it kept changing it on purpose.

“We’re going to be too late,” Konowa replied. “Why aren’t you upset? The Star means more to you than any of us.”

The Suljak nodded. “True, but worrying about things we cannot change is not the most productive use of one’s time. Besides, I have something you apparently do not.”

Konowa rolled his eyes. “I really don’t want to discuss faith right now.”

“I was referring to patience, Major. If the legends are true, the Stars have been gone for thousands of years. A few hours more is but a grain of sand in, well, this,” he said, waving a hand in an arc.

“Take it from me, a few hours can make all the difference in the world,” Konowa said, turning to look back again at the column. A lingering dust cloud hung in the still air behind them, marking their passage through the desert. It could be seen for miles. The feeling in Konowa grew colder. “Damn. We’re not going to make it to the Star, are we?”

The Suljak twisted slightly in his saddle and observed the cloud of dust following the column. He stroked the wisps of hair that made up his beard and gave Konowa an enigmatic look. “As I told you, Major, politics is a messy business.”

“You’ve made another deal with the Prince,” Konowa said. It wasn’t a question.

“A force of several thousand tribesman is coming up from the south. Their intent is peaceful.”

The Suljak emphasized the word, as if somehow saying it clearly made it more likely. Konowa sincerely doubted it.

“They will welcome the Jewel of the Desert and prevent any interference with its rightful resurrection. It is as it should be, Major. No doubt the Prince will show his displeasure publicly, as is expected.”

“No doubt,” Konowa said dryly. “But what of the Shadow Monarch, and whatever is out here stirring things up? They certainly have different views on the matter. Your tribesmen aren’t equipped to handle powers like this.”

“They’ll have help, of course.”

The Suljak’s demeanor did not change, a fact that irritated Konowa no end. The man had no idea what horrors his people were about to face. The thought gave Konowa pause. He really didn’t know, either. As terrible as Elfkyna had been, the islands had been worse in their own way. Who was to say the desert wouldn’t find new ways to increase the horrors they all faced. “What help?”

“Major, I really do admire your single-mindedness. For you this is all quite simple, isn’t it?” His tone of voice suggested a gentle mocking. “Alas, the path to my aims is far more indirect. There will be fighting, Major, of that I am certain, but I see no reason that it should be the Empire against the peoples of the Hasshugeb. Rather, we will come together as one-allies of equal stature-and together we will defeat our enemies.”

“You expect the Prince to help you after your maneuvering to take the Star and usurp his authority? Pimmer is one thing, but the Prince is the future King. I doubt he’ll be as agreeable to your vision as you seem to think. We’re still in the Calahrian Empire, even out here.”

Now the Suljak sounded genuinely surprised. “Major, don’t you see, everyone gets what they really want. The Star is returned to my people. The Prince finds the Lost Library, the Shadow Monarch and the necromancer Kaman Rhal are destroyed…assuming he has returned. And if not destroyed, they will most definitely be thwarted in their endeavors, at which point you are reunited with your brethren. Beautiful, is it not? Machinations within intrigues woven with finesse and finished off with just the right amount of controlled violence.” The Suljak beamed, his voice taking on an almost childlike glee.

“Somehow I doubt that’s what will happen at all,” Konowa said.

“Patience, Major, patience. Tonight, all will be revealed. You will see. All will come to pass as I have foreseen it.”

“And what of my mother, and Rallie and Visyna? They got a head start on us. What if they get to the Star first?”

For the first time in their conversation the Suljak lost his annoying calm. His fists clenched for just a moment before he saw Konowa watching him. The Suljak relaxed and smiled. “A not entirely unanticipated event, displeasing as that might be. Still, they understand the way of things, Her Majesty’s Scribe especially. My brief discussion with her was most…fascinating.”