Chris Evans - A Darkness Forged in Fire

"How terribly bloody convenient," the Duke growled, looking down at the map again. "I don't trust you, Viceroy."

Gwyn waved his hand. "Be that as it may, your orders are clear, and the benefits of following them far outweigh the costs of disobeying them, wouldn't you say? Now, I suggest you prepare to depart with all due haste. Good evening."

The Duke rose slowly from his chair and stood for a moment looking down at the table. When he raised his head to look at Gwyn, the Viceroy took a step back before catching himself. The man was smiling, a grin so wide and so fierce that as the Duke turned and walked through the circle of light and was swallowed up by the darkness, Gwyn wondered if it was possible he might have underestimated the warrior.

"You're in my palace."

Years of training were still not enough to keep the Viceroy from jumping. He shivered in spite of the heat. A writhing mass of shadows stood just outside the circle of lanterns not an arm's length from where the Duke had just passed. Frost sparkled on the edges of the table.

The Viceroy regained his composure, forcing a slow, deep breath through his nose before he spoke. He repeated the Calahrian diplomatic mantra in his mind. When negotiating, you don't represent the Empire, you are the Empire.

"Your statement lacks factual corroboration. This palace, such as it is, is property of Her Majesty the Queen of Calahr. Now, if you'd care to lodge a formal-"

"Fool! You would test Her Emissary thus? I once served your Queen, but now I serve a true monarch."

The voice sounded like tearing sheets of iron. The shadows that made up its form moved into the light, scraping over the stone like glacier over rock. Gwyn expected to see a body, but there was only the seething blackness in the shape of the former Viceroy.

"Of course…Emissary," Gwyn said, unable to keep the tremor out of his voice. "My apologies. I was under the impression that you were underground, as it were."

The shadows grew blacker for a moment and the temperature in the throne room dropped.

"She has brought me back to serve Her. You will serve Her, too."

A shadow snaked toward Gwyn, a brilliant red light shining where the palm of a hand would have been.

Gwyn leaned forward. "A red star? The red star, the Eastern Star? You've discovered it?"

The light vanished. "Not yet, but it has returned, and they dig for it even now. Serve Her, and your reward will be power beyond measure."

Every syllable was like an ice pick in Gwyn's flesh. He allowed his eyes to stray away from the shadow, unable to keep it in proper focus. He waited for the threat, but when none was forthcoming, he realized it had no reason to articulate the obvious. Not serving Her had only one consequence, and it would be swift.

"What is it She requires?" The question itself wasn't treasonous. Gwyn needed power in order to move the Empire in the proper direction. If trading one monarch for another furthered that aim, then it was his duty to obey.

"Keep your forces away from Luuguth Jor."

Gwyn feigned shock. "But word of revolt in the east is spreading. Her Majesty will expect me to send men at once to put it down."

The shadows writhed faster, a black blur sucking the very warmth from the air. "You must not. They need time to grow, and to dig."

Gwyn struck his most regal pose and turned to look straight at the shadow. "Her power, it seems, is not as strong as I was led to believe. I could divert the Imperial Army, for a time, but I take a great risk in doing so. I begin to wonder…why should I bother?"

There was a sudden gust of wind and the lanterns flared and went out, shuttering the throne room in darkness. Gwyn took a step back and was stopped by something terribly cold and heavy standing behind him. He couldn't move, and he didn't know if it was the will of Her Emissary or abject terror that kept him rooted to the spot. Breath flowed down on his shoulder and neck as if straight from the frigid peak of a mountain, Her mountain. And then a voice was in his ear, each word a crystal sliver.

"Because dying is only the beginning."

The lanterns flared again. Gwyn was alone.

It was a long time before he called for his retainers, long enough for his heart to start beating again at a dignified, controlled pace, and the wetness in his trousers to dry.

Konowa awoke to a gentle kiss. He smiled, the nightmare already a distant memory. Warm breath caressed his skin as soft lips brushed against his cheek, the sweet smell of oats-

"Get away!" he shouted, opening his eyes and batting away the muzzle of the gelding. The horse bared its teeth and stamped a hoof and Konowa rolled out of the way, jumping to his feet in one motion.

"Making a new friend, I see," Visyna said lightly, walking up to pat the horse. Sergeant Lorian followed her.

"You, too," he replied. He started to brush the dirt off his clothes, then stopped. The pain in his ribs was gone. "What happened?"

Sergeant Lorian looked puzzled. "We rode all night, sir, although I gather you slept most of the way. We stopped a couple of hours before dawn for a short break for the rest of us. We're heading out now-the encampment isn't more than an hour or two away."

"Why stop so close to the encampment, then? Why didn't we ride on through?"

"The horses needed rest, too," Lorian said. "Push them too hard for too far and you'll push them straight into the ground. Not even unicorns can go forever, and these horses are far from that."

"Have you ever ridden a unicorn, Sergeant?" Visyna asked. She was rubbing the gelding's coat with a handful of grass. The horse looked back and started eating the grass out of her hand.

"Couldn't ride one since I was fifteen," he said, smiling. "Besides, they pretty much stick to women. Temperamental sort."

"Unicorns or women?" Konowa asked.

Visyna huffed and the sergeant looked suddenly embarrassed. "Right, better get things squared away. We mount in five minutes," he said, and walked over to see to his troops.

"He seems nice," Visyna said, picking some more grass for the gelding to eat.

"Charming," Konowa said, staring after the sergeant. The gelding looked at Konowa and stamped a front hoof.

"I think someone is trying to get your attention." Visyna laughed, holding the grass out to the horse. The horse sniffed at her hand, then whinnied, taking the offering in its large, yellow teeth.

"You appear to get along with everyone," Konowa said, grabbing a fistful of dry leaves and absently rubbing the gelding with them.

"And you, on the other hand, do not."

"I bring out the worst in people," he said, rubbing the horse harder. Tufts of hair fell out, revealing red splotches covering the animal's skin. The horse waved its head from side to side and shook its body. "Did we get saddled with a sick horse?" he asked, looking over to Visyna.

She shook her head. "These horses were born and bred in Calahr-they are not suited to this land. It is one more affront to the natural order to transport animals so far from their native home."

"I know what you mean," Konowa said. "Two-legged animals don't fare much better."

Visyna clicked her teeth. "But you had a choice, these creatures did not. This is why my people hate…" She paused, clearly reconsidering her next words. "Why your Empire upsets the balance of life."

Konowa decided he didn't feel like sparring with her again. He went back to rubbing the gelding.

"Here, do it like this," Visyna said, walking around to his side of the horse. She took the leaves from his hand and replaced them with grass, then placed her hand on top of his. "Gentle strokes. You aren't trying to skin it."

She stood close to Konowa and the touch of her hand was warm and soft. He quietly drew in a deep breath, but this time she smelled more like the horse.