Chris Evans - The Light of Burning Shadows

Yimt took a hand off his shatterbow and began tugging at his beard, a sign Konowa knew to mean a deep and possibly deeply disturbing thought was about to be shared.

“Something on your mind, Sergeant?”

“As it happens, Major, there is. We cleared seven islands filled with all manner of terrors. We lost a few of the boys along the way, though I suppose they ain’t all the way lost, but it amounts to the same thing. And now we’re headed to the Hasshugeb Expanse, a land that’ll cook your eyes right in their sockets, and that’s just at midmorning.”

“You’ve been there?” Konowa asked.

Yimt shrugged his shoulders. “Made port in Nazalla twenty some years ago. Never made it past the local entertainment establishments, though. Found myself in a slight disagreement with a fellow dealing cards off the bottom of the deck. One thing led to another and somehow most of his nose wound up on the floor. They’ve got some right nasty diseases in them parts, I told my commanding officer at the time.”

“Your point, Sergeant?” Konowa said. The dwarf could peel paint from a wall just by talking to it.

“My point is, some of the men now say we have two princes leading the regiment.”

Konowa stood bolt upright. “Who’s saying that?”

Yimt smiled. “Ah, you see, that’s exactly the sort of thing the Prince would say, now isn’t it? The men are concerned, Major. A Star from myths and bedtime stories turns out to be real. So does the Shadow Monarch. Extinct monsters aren’t and the lads think they’re doomed to never really die. But that ain’t what’s really bothering them.”

Konowa knew the surprise showed on his face. “It isn’t? What’s worse than all of that?”

“You,” Yimt said, looking Konowa straight in the eyes. “They need to trust in you. They need to believe that no matter what kind of hell is out there, their commanding officer will do everything he can to bring them home.”

“The Prince is-”

Yimt interrupted Konowa. “The Prince spends most of his time in his quarters with his maps and books. The lads even have a pool going on what we’re really doing going to the Hasshugeb Expanse. Three to one says we’re chasing another Star. Four to one has it we’re going after other assorted treasure for the Prince.”

“I thought you would understand,” Konowa said. “When we find the first Iron Elves, we’ll be whole. They’re the key. We have to find them before She does. With them we’ll be able to take the fight directly to the Shadow Monarch and finish this.”

The dwarf didn’t back off. “And just how, exactly, with all due respect, Major, is that supposed to happen? Near as I can tell, it’s us who are bound by the oath, not them. It’s our boys that are starting to go a bit funny in the head. Why should your elves want to join up for this? If Kritton, that miserable excuse for a soldier, was anything to go by, some of those lads might not be too happy to see you.”

Konowa turned his face to the wind and let the salt spray sting him. The pain brought him some small measure of relief. In choosing to destroy Her forest at Luuguth Jor, Konowa had given up a chance, perhaps his only chance, to break the oath that doomed all soldiers in the Iron Elves to eternal service, and perhaps something worse. By using the Shadow Monarch’s power so cunningly given to him through his father, Konowa had unwittingly done Her bidding. With every passing day, the treacherous pull She exerted grew, though whether that was Her doing or something dark and twisted within Konowa himself he did not know.

Konowa was the only one who truly saw things as they were. There was solace to be found in the fact that the soldiers currently bound by the oath were not the original Iron Elves, and Konowa clung to that thought. Even if he couldn’t explain it to Arkhorn, Konowa knew finding them would mean salvation for both. He would find his original elves and return their honor to them. Combined with the soldiers he now commanded, they would overcome any foe the Shadow Monarch sent. And when Her creatures were defeated, Konowa would lead them to the very heart of Her mountain forest and break the oath for all time, setting them all free.

“We both know,” Konowa said, “I can order these men to do whatever it takes, but I hope with your help they’ll follow me because they know I’m right, and because they trust me.”

“Well, as my dear ol’ mum is wont to say, “In for a tail, in for a dragon.’ I can keep the lads focused, for now. A little rest stop in Nazalla certainly wouldn’t go amiss either. After a few weeks floating around out here with only horror islands and nightmares about trees to keep them busy, they’re starting to lose the polish off the old crystal ball.” Yimt took a step closer to Konowa and lowered his voice an octave. “But, Major, when we do go for our stroll in the desert, I hope for all our sakes those elves of yours are there waiting.”

Yimt stepped back and sniffed the air. “You know, I think I’ve breathed enough salt out here to never need it again at the dinner table.” He stood to attention and saluted. “Evening, Major.”

“Sergeant,” Konowa said, watching the dwarf walk away.

Konowa turned back to watch the sea. The wind threatened to lift his shako off his head and he reached up and took it off, letting his black hair blow wild in the coming storm. A steely glint flickered in his eyes and a trace of frost fire sparkled in his hands. Soon, he would be reunited with the original Iron Elves. And with them, the regiment would be unstoppable.

Konowa held on to that thought as he heaved his guts over the side, cursing every drop of water in the ocean as he did. It almost made him long to be back in the forest.

Almost.

A ship-of-the-line on the high seas is a marvelously graceful and robust creature. Ribs of oak fully twice as thick as a man’s chest, miles of rope tendons, acres of canvas muscle, teeth of brass and iron able to tear apart anything that came within their grasp, and skin of pine, copper, and tar make it the single largest collection of manmade parts ever assembled.

A ship-of-the-line is, however, an equally delicate collection of parts that is forever perched perilously in the water on a thin keel, like a walker on a rope stretched taut across a cliff. Balance is everything. Should it tip too far to either side, it would begin a downward fall into the deep abyss.

Alwyn preferred the open water. The knowledge that his life hung on the slender threads of the craftsmanship of the shipwrights, the vagaries of the weather, and the skill of the Black Spike ’s crew filled him, perversely, with a sense of calm. Everything changed when he set foot on shore. On land his anguish was boundless, as if it grew from the very depths of the earth and flowed through him. Out here, however, he found a certain peace, although the nightmares of Her remained.

He could almost convince himself there was still a chance things could return to the way they were before.

Someone coughed and Alwyn looked up from cleaning his musket, setting aside the rag coated in brick dust he’d been using to buff the metal to a bright sheen. The black flames of the frost fire burned away blood and other fleshy bits-a neat trick all the soldiers had quickly put to use-but rust in the salty sea air bloomed orange and red every night on any bare metal left exposed. In the army, there was always something a corporal or sergeant would give you grief about.

The surviving members of Yimt’s section were grouped around one of the ship’s sixty-eight-pounder carronades on the upper gun deck. It seemed appropriate to Alwyn that Sergeant Arkhorn would secure them a spot on the ship near a weapon characterized by its short, powerful, and temperamental nature. Firing a sixty-eight-pound cannon ball at a low muzzle velocity meant the projectile didn’t fly all that far, but it hit with a vengeance. The slower speed resulted in the shot splintering any wood it struck instead of punching a hole straight through. The result was absolute havoc as a shower of deadly splinters sprayed forth from the impact. Unsurprisingly, the carronade had earned the nickname Smasher. No, Alwyn was not surprised at all that Yimt had chosen this as their home on the sea.