Chris Evans - The Light of Burning Shadows

“I doubt that, traitor,” a booming voice shouted from another tunnel entrance.

Everyone turned as Sergeant Yimt Arkhorn stepped into the library followed by Chayii and the other soldiers. Visyna tried to speak, but Kritton’s grip remained firm.

“Let Visyna go, Kritton-you’re in enough trouble as it is,” Yimt said. His shatterbow was held steady at his hip, both barrels pointing directly at the elf.

Kritton laughed. “Or what? You’ll shoot me? We both know you’d kill her, too, if you tried, and there are hundreds of elves here who’ll shoot down every one of you a moment later.”

“Sergeant, lower the shatterbow and let’s talk dwarf to dwarf,” Griz said, raising his hands for calm. “This is a complicated situation that requires time to fully understand.”

Yimt nodded as if in agreement, then turned and pointed his shatterbow at the wagons being loaded. All work immediately ceased. “Looks like a lot of valuable, and, if I’m not mistaken, flammable things you got there.”

“Don’t be a fool, Arkhorn,” Griz shouted, backing away from Yimt. “Kritton, let her go. This is insanity. There’s enough treasure here for everyone to get whatever they want a thousand times over.”

“Not their honor,” Yimt said, looking at the elves. “You’re still soldiers. Act like it.”

Visyna watched even as her vision began to go gray around the edges. The elves looked to Kritton. For the first time she saw doubt enter their eyes. They knew this was wrong. Whatever Kritton had said to them couldn’t be stronger than what they knew in their hearts.

“You’ve lost, Arkhorn,” Kritton said. “The rest of you, drop your weapons, now.”

He squeezed Visyna’s throat even tighter and she convulsed. The room began to swim.

Muskets clattered to the floor. The pressure on her throat lessened and then he released her. She gulped warm air and sank to her knees as Chayii ran over to hold her.

Kritton grabbed his musket in both hands again and pointed it at Yimt. “They know who they are, and they know what’s been stolen from them. This,” he said, swiveling his head to indicate the library, “is our way of setting things right.”

“This,” Yimt said, looking at the elves, “is looting. How in blue blazes do you think this restores your honor? Do you think you can buy it back? How much?” he asked, pointing his shatterbow at one of the elves. “How much does it cost to buy an elf these days?”

“You…don’t…understand!” Kritton shouted. “Our honor-”

“Stuff your bloody honor!” Yimt bellowed. “There’s more important things to worry about now than your damn hurt feelings!”

Kritton trembled with rage. The elves looked between him and Yimt, but still none made a move.

Yimt stood there for a moment longer, looking as many elves in the eye as would meet his gaze. Finally, he glanced over at Visyna and smiled. “Tell Rallie the secret ingredient in all my stews is love.” He pulled the trigger on his shatterbow and sent two explosive darts hurtling across the room. They hit a wagon and exploded, sending flaming debris twenty feet into the air. The camel team startled and broke into a gallop, pulling the burning wagon with them. Fire broke out in a trail behind the runaway camel team as elves and dwarves ran for cover.

“No!” Kritton shouted.

Visyna felt Chayii tense, and they both acted at the same time. Chayii’s dagger was already flying through the air as Visyna brought her hands in front of her and began to weave, but they were already too late.

Kritton fired.

Chayii’s blade caught Kritton in the shoulder, knocking his musket from his grasp. Visyna tried to create a barrier in the air in front of the musket, but the energy she tried to weave burned her too severely. She cried out and had to stop.

Kritton’s shot hit Yimt in the center of his chest. His mouth opened in surprise as the shatterbow slid from his hand and clattered to the floor. He brought his right hand up to his chest and placed it over the wound.

“Bugger,” he remarked, then fell face-forward, motionless.

“Yimt!” Scolly cried, running forward toward the dwarf. The elves blocked his path.

Griz strode forward, pulling at his beard. “Damn it all to hell! All right, we’re out of here now. This place is going to become a funeral pyre. You,” he said, pointing at Kritton. “You get your elves to get this lot out of here. We’ll meet at the rendezvous point in three days’ time as agreed.” With that he took one last look at Yimt’s body and turned and hurried off. Flames were climbing the walls around them as thick black smoke billowed from the alcoves.

Kritton motioned to the elves to get them moving.

Tears filled Visyna’s eyes, but it wasn’t from the smoke. She took one last look at where Yimt lay and then was pushed along toward the far side of the library. The last thing she saw was smoke rolling over the dwarf’s body and then a shadowy figure standing where the dwarf had fallen.

Alwyn grabbed his chest. Yimt! Something terrible had just happened to his sergeant and his friend. He tried to focus on the feeling, but it was impossible. The magics continued to war inside him, and now the sounds of battle echoed off the canyon walls as Rallie continued to draw.

Alwyn took in a few deep breaths and began walking toward the outcropping of rock. Above him, the air thrummed with blue light while underneath something ancient and dry clawed to be heard. It was the thing in Rallie’s sketch. It was the source of the white fire. He felt that magic in him flaring as the voice grew louder and more insistent. He was being drawn to it, as were the skeletons that continued to flow from cracks in the mountains, carrying their grisly cargo.

“Alwyn.”

He turned, expecting Rallie to try to stop him, but she smiled at him instead. “Remember what I said. You are a good man.”

Alwyn said nothing. He turned and walked toward the out-cropping. It was all going to end. One way or the other, it was all going to end tonight. The white fire burned hotter inside him and the frost fire flared in response. The pain staggered him, but he kept walking. His body was now a pyre of white and black flame, but still he walked. He rounded the outcropping and stood face to face with the heart of the white flame that would break the oath, or kill him.

Above him, the Jewel of the Desert burst into being, its light casting everything in brilliant, blue shadow. The white flame flared in response and clawed into the sky after the Star. Alwyn smiled, opened his arms wide, and ran headlong into the fire.

The Iron Elves tore through everything before them, bayoneting, shooting, clubbing, and burning. The shades of the dead slashed with swords of black frost fire, cleaving fire creatures and sarka har with grim precision.

Black ice flowed through Konowa’s veins and all the weeks of pent up frustration poured out through his saber. Nothing stood before him. He ran faster, letting loose his anger on anything he found. White flame washed over him in sheets and he grinned and cut the drakarri in two, never pausing. A hollow carapace of a scorpion the size of a camel lumbered forth, its pincers clacking. Konowa simply ran between its outstretched claws and drove his saber into its head to the hilt. The beast shuddered and blew apart as frost fire burned it to nothing.

Two more scorpion shells scuttled across the sand, each with a huge stinger four feet long hanging above its head. Before Konowa could attack, soldiers of the 3rd Spears charged the creatures, their sword bayonets flashing as they thrust and hacked at the scorpion bodies.

One soldier was caught between pincers and shorn in two, but the others only redoubled their efforts, as several began climbing up onto the scorpions’ backs to hack at them from above. Soon both stingers had been cut from their tails, and the scorpions collapsed under the assault.