Chris Evans - The Light of Burning Shadows

“At least there’s one less skeleton to worry about,” Teeter said, trying to sound jovial.

Visyna hoped he was right. She followed Hrem as he led off. Jir stayed beside her. The bengar licked at his shoulder a few times and favored his right front paw, but for having been inches from death he was in remarkably good shape.

Hrem stopped and held up his hand. Jir tilted his head to one side as if listening. Visyna shook her head and strained to hear what had gotten their attention.

“I can’t hear anything, but I smell fresh air, as if a door just opened,” Visyna said. She smelled something else, something familiar. Pipe clay. Gunpowder. There were more soldiers in the tunnel!

“Hrem, there are so-” she started to say, but the rest of the sentence caught in her throat. Soldiers lined the tunnel ahead of them. They were still cast in shadow so that Visyna could not make out their faces, but their outline was unmistakable.

One of the soldiers stepped forward until he was visible in the dim glow. He held a musket in his hands and had it leveled at his hip ready to fire. Visyna’s eyes widened. “You!”

Private Takoli Kritton smiled. He was still dressed in the uniform of an Iron Elf. A large, black blade with a distinctive kink in it hung from a leather thong on his cartridge belt. Visyna recognized it as Sergeant Arkhorn’s drukar.

“Imagine finding you all here,” Kritton said, his voice smooth and calculating. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to come with me. The way ahead is blocked.”

“Tyul is up there, Kritton,” Hrem said, looking past the elf at the soldiers behind him. He was squinting, trying to make them out. “Some skeleton demons have the body of one our men. They’re trying to take his soul! We have to go after him.”

Kritton went pale. “Be thankful they only have the one. The creatures you speak of are the long-dead remains of Kaman Rhal’s army. They started gathering up the dead again shortly after the first Star reappeared in Luuguth Jor, but that is none of our concern.”

“How can you say that?” asked Visyna.

“Because for too long the Empire dictated what was right and wrong, but no longer.” Kritton leered at her. “Don’t look so surprised, isn’t that what you’re always saying? Just like Elfkyna, there’s a power growing in this desert, and it is welcome to this wasteland.”

“You sound well informed for someone who’s been on the run,” Visyna said, glaring at the elf.

“I’ve had my eyes opened to a lot of things,” Kritton said. “Knowledge is a powerful tool, especially if you know how to use it.”

“What are you talking about?” Visyna asked. “You ran away in Elfkyna when these men stayed and fought. And now you stand here as if nothing has happened.”

Anger flashed in Kritton’s eyes, but he kept his voice calm. “Much has happened. Come with me and I’ll show you.”

“You’re in no position to be giving orders anymore,” Hrem said, taking a step forward. “You’re a deserter, or have you forgotten the forest in Elfkyna when you saved your own miserable skin and left the rest of us to die?”

“We’re all dead anyway if something isn’t done,” Kritton said, his lips white with anger. “I ran because I saw a chance to get away and make a difference. I wasn’t trying to save my life, I was trying to save all of us from this abomination,” he said, taking a hand off his musket and grabbing at his uniform above his heart.

“You had the right idea,” Zwitty said, inching forward. “See, I told the lot of you desertin’ was the smart move.”

If Zwitty had expected a sign of approval from Kritton he didn’t get it. “I did not desert!” Kritton shouted. “We are here to set things right. We will no longer follow the orders of those who deceive and dishonor us!”

Visyna stepped forward before anyone else could speak. “Who is ‘we’?”

Kritton looked over his shoulder and whispered something. The soldiers behind him came forward, their muskets pointing at Visyna and Hrem. Visyna gasped. Every soldier had a shorn left ear tip while the right still had its point.

“We,” Kritton said, a look of fierce pride on his face, “are the true Iron Elves.”

No one said a word. A tear came to Visyna’s eye. These were Konowa’s men, his brothers. She looked at them all, seeking to understand who they now were. All still wore the uniform of the Calahrian Imperial Army. The cloth was tattered and worn, but their muskets gleamed with care. Each stood at least six feet tall, their frames thinner than Konowa’s, not as broad across the shoulders. Gaunt faces looked back at her. None sneered, none smiled. She looked into their eyes and understood why.

These elves were in pain. Enormous pain. She sensed it without needing to weave the air. They had been abandoned and dishonored, and none of it had been their fault.

“Listen to me, all of you. Whatever Kritton has told you is a lie. Konowa did not desert you. The reason we are here now is you! He has come back for you. We’ve all come here for you,” she said, pointing around her at the other soldiers. “Even now your regiment goes to battle. Go to Konowa and help him. He needs you.”

Kritton’s laugh echoed off the tunnel walls. “He needs us? What about when we needed him? Where was he then? No, Miss Tekoy, we will not be fooled again. Our honor will be restored, but it will not be by him.”

Visyna cast her gaze across the elves in front of her, searching for a sign that some of them, or even one, would listen to her. Each elf met her gaze, their eyes revealing what they would not say. She refused to give up.

“You know this is wrong! I can see it. This isn’t who you are. No one can take away your honor. Being banished here was terrible, I understand that, but only you hold your fate in your hands. Only you-”

“Enough!” Kritton roared. “You will not lecture us again. We have already regained our honor, and you’re going to see how. Now move,” he ordered, motioning her toward the tunnel entrance.

Visyna started to make one more plea, but Hrem reached out a hand and touched her arm.

“Forget it, Miss Tekoy. They aren’t the elves we thought they were.”

Visyna could only nod. As she stepped into the side tunnel the only consolation she could muster was that she was glad Konowa wasn’t here to witness what his elves had become.

Konowa turned and looked at the regiment. Already they had edged out onto the sand. Death stood just a short distance away yet still the sergeants had to restrain the men from lunging forward. They knew battle was upon them, and they were ready. Frost fire limned them as darkness grew.

It was time.

Konowa and the Prince trotted their camels back to the oasis and brought them to a halt in front of the column. Konowa looked to the Prince, who nodded. Konowa cleared his throat. “Iron Elves…shoulder arms!” As one, they picked up their muskets in their right hands and threw them across their chests. Frost fire arced from bayonet to bayonet as they moved through the air. Each soldier caught it with his left, cradling the butt of the musket in his palm and pressing the musket against his left shoulder.

“Color Party will keep the Colors low until we are through the gap.” Konowa knew that without the order the Color Party would hoist the flags high, their pride overcoming their instinct for survival. They would all be targets soon enough, but Konowa didn’t want to lose the Color Party through sheer foolhardy bravery.

“The regiment will march in column…by the center…march!” A drummer with the 3rd Spears immediately set up a rhythm to keep everyone in time. Konowa steered his camel toward the young boy. “When you see me raise my saber, then drop it, I want you to pick it up to double time.”