Chris Evans - The Light of Burning Shadows

Already, the gap cleared by the cannon fire was beginning to close up again. Konowa knew it was now or never.

“Regiment…halt!” Again boots crashed down on the ground and dust swirled up around them. The rear rank took one extra half step forward and to the right, interlocking the two rows so that every soldier had a clear shot to the front. “Front rank…prepare to volley…fire!”

The front row of the Iron Elves vanished in a cloud of smoke as musket balls spat forth. They tore through the creatures with satisfying violence, but more surged from the sand to take the place of the fallen.

“Second rank…prepare to volley…fire!”

Before the smoke had cleared, Konowa was racing forward. The Prince and the Viceroy, breaking all tradition and ignoring common sense, came through the double line to join Konowa out front. Viceroy Alstonfar’s breath whistled like a kettle on the boil, but he did not slow down.

“By column…the regiment will march…now!”

Color Sergeant Salia Aguom strode forward with the Colors as the two lines fell into place behind them. Screams burst from the forest as the Iron Elves began to enter the gap. The fire creatures spat fire in front of their advance, but Konowa had expected this.

The acorn against his chest grew frigid and then the frost fire roared to life in his hands. Shadows emerged from the darkness and kept pace with the regiment, shielding it in a black wall of flame as white fire lanced and arced across the sky. The opening into the canyon was clear. Only a hundred yards to go. The sky above the canyon grew to a deep, pulsing blue. Konowa knew it was time.

He raised his saber in the air. The Prince did the same. “Regiment…”

The Iron Elves roared. The Colors shot proudly into the air, unfurling and blowing full.

“Charge!”

Tyul followed Jurwan as the wizard scampered along the stone floor. He kept looking over his shoulder to see if Tyul was following. Tyul kept pace, though the pain from the power flowing through the rock weighed him down until it felt like walking through water.

The floor became easier to see, and Tyul realized they were approaching an opening. Jurwan continued without slowing and disappeared into the light. Tyul hurried as fast as he could, drawing his oath dagger and shielding his eyes as he stepped out from the tunnel. He heard the language of his tribe called out to him and he relaxed. Tyul lowered his arm and tried to understand what he saw. Dozens of elves stood before him, all wearing the uniform of the Calahrian Empire. Their shorn left ears identified them immediately, but that wasn’t what left Tyul stunned as they gathered around him and escorted him away.

He hadn’t entered a room at all-he had set foot in the deep forest in the Hyntaland.

He was home.

Visyna grabbed hold of Jir’s neck as she and the soldiers were escorted by Kritton and the elves through the side tunnel. With every step Visyna felt the ancient power that resided here. They walked in silence, and Visyna lost track of time as they went. No one talked. The air was heavy with power, and worked to stifle any conversation. Finally, the way ahead lightened, and the group was led out into a room so large Visyna could not see its far end.

She gaped at what she saw. Pillars carved from the very rock rose to the ceiling hundreds of feet above. Hundreds upon hundreds of alcoves dotted the walls. In them Visyna could see endless rows of books, scrolls, parchments, and more lining the shelves. The main floor was a sea of artifacts. Brass, ivory, marble, glassware, rich brocades, bundles of tapestries, gems, gold coins and jewelry, and treasures Visyna couldn’t begin to comprehend. Yet that wasn’t the most startling find. In the distance, she saw a huge cluster of trees.

There was a forest growing within the edifice.

Farther on there appeared to be a lake. The water rippled as if a light breeze were playing upon it. Visyna’s hair fluttered across her eyes and she realized there really was a breeze.

It made absolutely no sense, yet there they were.

“Welcome,” Kritton said, “to the Lost Library of Kaman Rhal.”

“It’s really true,” Visyna said, looking around her as the others did the same. Now she noticed more of the elven soldiers of the original Iron Elves. They moved among the alcoves carrying large bundles. They were in a hurry, grabbing up armfuls of books and scrolls, running them out to large tables set up in the middle of the library, and placing them there, where a group of dwarves were sorting them into different piles. Wagons pulled by camels were neatly lined along one side of the tables. They were loading a caravan inside the library.

A dwarf overseeing the operation looked their way and came over.

“Griz Jahrfel!” Hrem said, recognizing the dwarf.

“We meet again,” Griz said, bowing when he saw Visyna. “My lady, gentleman. I see you’ve discovered our little hideaway.” There was genuine pride in his voice.

“But how, how did you find this?” Visyna asked.

Griz winked at her. “Legends and myths aren’t what they used to be, or so I’ve been told. The Lost Library was never really all that lost. The sandstorm that buried Kaman Rhal and the town of Urjalla was the real tragedy. This library has always been here, it’s just that everyone who knew about it died. Well, almost everyone. A few so-called descendants of Kaman Rhal knew of its existence and passed the information down generation to generation until such time that the library would be revealed again.” He looked up to the ceiling. “A time like now, with the imminent return of the Jewel of the Desert. The Suljak decided it was well past time to move more of the…precious items, knowing the Prince and the Empire were sure to come.”

“The Suljak knows? But you’re looting the library,” Visyna said, still not believing what she was seeing.

Griz nodded. “Aye, you could call it that, but pretty much everything in here was looted from somewhere else at one time or another. You know the old saying: “You never really own anything-you just loot it until the next bugger comes along and takes it.’”

Visyna turned on Kritton. “This is how you break the oath, by working with thieves? Where is your honor?” How could these be Konowa’s elves? She looked around her and raised her voice at the other elves. “Konowa is still out there fighting for you! He leads men like these,” she said, pointing to Hrem, Zwitty, and Teeter, “against all enemies, including the forces of the Shadow Monarch. And here you skulk like petty criminals. How dare-”

Kritton lunged forward and grabbed her by the throat. His fingers were ice cold as frost fire singed her flesh. “Don’t you ever question our honor, wench!”

Jir’s fangs and the three muskets of the human soldiers found themselves facing dozens of muskets held by the elves. “Let her go!” Hrem yelled. Black frost coated his bayonet, but it did not flame.

“The magic here is too old and too strong for that to work,” Kritton said, still holding Visyna’s throat. She could breathe, but each time she did a frigid gale enveloped her lungs in pain. “This is our leverage. The Prince wants the library. It’s all he ever talks about. His search for knowledge while the world slowly goes insane. Fine, if he wants knowledge, we have it, and for a price, we’ll sell it to him.”

“You want to cut a deal?” Hrem asked, his voice incredulous.

“We want our honor restored. We want the stain of our disgrace removed once and forever. It’s a simple enough deal. These elves know we were deceived and dishonored by Swift Dragon and the Empire. They had a lot of time to dwell on it. When I told them how the Iron Elves had been reformed without them, well, they saw things as they really are.”