Chris Evans - The Light of Burning Shadows

“No, that’s not possible. The power flows through me, I command it,” the Suljak said, looking down at his own hands. He raised his eyes and pointed at Konowa. “You! You’ve done this. It’s your corrupting influence that has caused this to happen.”

“The major is a loyal officer, and I will not have him slandered,” the Prince said, striding forward to come between the Suljak and Konowa. “Get those abominations under control.”

The Suljak glared at Konowa. “You conspire with the Shadow Monarch. Before your arrival my control was complete. I underestimated you and the power you wield, but I will not make that mistake again.” He brought both hands together and closed his eyes. Wind roared around the three of them as the sand beneath their feet began to shift.

Konowa reached inside himself for the frost fire, but the power of the Suljak’s magic made it difficult to bring it forth. He tried again, but all he could manage was a small flicker.

Prince Tykkin glanced over at Konowa, then at the Suljak. Without a word, the Prince cocked his right fist back and slammed it into the Suljak’s face. The old man flew backward and landed on his back. The wind died down.

“In light of current circumstances, our agreement,” the Prince said, “is null and void.”

The voice from the canyon grew louder. The white fire on the desert floor burned brighter. The sound of screaming intensified.

Konowa looked at the Prince, and for a moment couldn’t find the words. Finally, he turned back to the Suljak, who was slowly climbing to his feet. He was no longer a powerful manipulator, but a scared old man. “It looks as if your game wasn’t deep enough,” Konowa said. He spat the words, unable to keep his disgust in check. He turned back to the Prince. “Once that gap closes we have no chance of breaking through, sir. We need to move now while there’s enough chaos out there.”

The Prince studied the gap. “Can we get them through?”

Konowa nodded. He’d get them through if he had to kill every living and dead thing in his path. The time for gambits was over. “Yes, but we have to go now.”

The Suljak looked at them both, a mad light in his eyes. “We are still part of the Empire. It is your duty to save my people. I…I command you to save my people! Call forth your soldiers and rid the desert of these defilers! You brought all of this upon us. You must fix it!” His calm demeanor was gone. In its place was something Konowa recognized all too clearly.

“Your people’s only hope is if we get to the Star before anything else,” Konowa said. “They can’t get to the canyon now, and Her forest is held at bay, but that won’t last for long.”

The Suljak watched the battle and wrung his hands. “The Jewel of the Desert is returning. It must be protected. It cannot fall into the wrong…hands.”

“It won’t, if you get your men out of here,” Konowa said. “If they stay on the field of battle, they die.” He grabbed the Suljak by his robes and spun him around. “Look at what’s happening. I don’t give a damn about how messy politics might be. This is a battle now. The time for the finer points of manipulation are over. This is slaughter!”

White fire burned in patches all over the sand, marking the bodies of fallen Hasshugeb warriors. Riderless camels galloped past in fear, some on fire. They left ghostly images of flame and terror on Konowa’s mind as they disappeared into the night. A few sarka har snaked forward until their branches were able to stab down at the drakarri spitting fire at them. White and black flame exploded wherever the two powers met. The space between became an inferno of swirling tremendous magics. Men screamed, animals shrieked and howled, and over it all a voice of ancient power drove the fire creatures to ever greater frenzy.

“You are still the Suljak of the Hasshugeb,” the Prince said, his face white as he watched the destruction unfold. “Do your duty and save your men. I will determine the fate of the Star later.”

Konowa shook the Suljak. “Tell your men to fall back from the canyon opening. If they keep dying where they are we’re going to have a hard time walking over all the bodies,” Konowa said, knowing it was cruel and not giving a damn.

The Suljak began to shake. “This is not how it was supposed to happen. It was planned so well. It was…beautiful.”

The musket fire of the Hasshugeb warriors grew more controlled, but Konowa doubted that would last for long. The voice from the canyon directing the drakarri kept growing louder. Thoughts of controlling that voice vanished from Konowa’s mind.

They’d be lucky to survive.

“And this is now!” Konowa shouted. “Order your warriors to fall back. You can worry about your precious plans later.”

The Suljak looked up, his eyes glazed over. “The Star, the Star is all that matters.”

“Do as the major says, Suljak! Get your men away from here and the Star will be saved,” the Prince shouted. His fist was clenched again for another punch. Konowa did not reach out to hold his arm.

“I…I will order my men back,” the Suljak said. “We will regroup in the desert.”

“Go to hell,” Konowa said.

The Suljak climbed back onto his camel, snapped the reins, and began to trot toward the battle. Several tribal leaders rode out to meet him. The conference was quick. The leaders galloped their camels back to their men and began shouting orders.

“Major, we have our opening,” the Prince said. “Let’s go get that Star.”

The bengar lay crouched on the tunnel floor. There was a long gash on his right shoulder where the musket ball had torn across his fur and skin. Visyna put away her dagger and moved closer. Jir’s ears were pressed back on his head and his jaw was open in a snarl. Visyna reached out a hand toward the bengar, but Jir uttered a low, rumbling growl from deep within his chest.

“Easy, Miss Tekoy,” Hrem said, now standing beside her. She hadn’t heard him approach, but her ears were still ringing from the musket shot. “He might be the major’s pet and our mascot, but Jir’s still a wild animal.”

“Is he okay?” Zwitty shouted from way back in the tunnel. Visyna turned and saw he was frantically reloading his musket.

“It’s just a scratch, but you could have killed him.”

“I saw the skeleton so I took the shot,” Zwitty said. He finished reloading and walked slowly toward them. Teeter and Hrem both glared at him.

Jir’s growl grew louder when he spied Zwitty. Visyna turned back to the bengar and tried to calm him. “It’s all right, Jir, it was only an accident. Zwitty’s sorry, aren’t you?”

“Trying to save our lives is what I was doing,” Zwitty muttered. “How was I supposed to know he’d be coming back with half a skeleton?”

“Tell Jir you’re sorry,” Hrem said, pointing at Zwitty.

“What, why? He’s just a stupid animal.”

Jir showed more teeth and the fur on his back rippled as his muscles tensed.

“You want to be his dinner?” Teeter asked. “Just apologize already.”

“Okay, okay,” Zwitty said. He held his musket across his body as he looked at Jir. “I’m sorry I tried to save us all by shooting at the skeleton and you got in the way.”

Hrem shook his head. “Were you ever human?”

Zwitty looked as if he wanted to shout something, but he just turned and walked a few paces away, muttering under his breath. Jir relaxed and his ears slowly came up as his fur went down. Visyna reached out a hand and this time he didn’t growl. She gently rubbed his head then smoothed his fur down to the wound. Blood matted the fur, but it would heal on its own. She would have woven some magic to help it heal, but not here.

“Anything in this tunnel heard that shot,” Hrem said. “We’d best keep moving. Tyul might be just ahead.”