Chris Evans - A Darkness Forged in Fire

Konowa's shoulders slumped. "Fine. Let's suppose for a moment all of this is true. It will take weeks to bring the regiment back from the southern wastes, and even longer to re-equip and prepare for this. Do we have that much time?"

Ruwl stood up. The blanket on the cot wasn't creased at all. "Arrangements are being made. The Prince has ordered you commissioned as a captain." The marshal raised a hand to Konowa before he could react. "I informed the Prince that your abilities to lead men into battle were not in question, but a rank of only captain would compromise this. He was unmoved by my argument. His Highness takes a dim view of officers who kill Her Majesty's representatives. However, the Duke of Rakestraw saw fit to purchase your commission to major, and the Prince has allowed it to stand, for now."

Konowa slapped his knee. Jaal hadn't said a thing the entire time. "So who's been assigned my second in command to make sure I adhere to this vision of yours?"

The marshal coughed. "It is my duty to inform you that as of this date you are granted the commission of brevet major, subknight commander and second in command of Her Majesty's Light Infantry Regiment of the Hynta, the Iron Elves."

Konowa blinked. "Second in command?"

"In order to ensure that the Viceroy cannot interfere, Prince Tykkin will personally lead the regiment as its knight superior, and will be here shortly to officially take command of the regiment."

"And you think I'll accept this?" Konowa said, his voice rising as he looked from the marshal to the wizard, the blood pounding in his ears.

"You will, and you will conduct yourself in a manner befitting an officer and gentleman!" The marshal paused, then continued in a quieter tone. "Life is all about making the best of a…challenging situation. Princes become Kings, and won't always have the inclination to lead a regiment into the darker places of the Empire."

Konowa thought about that for a moment. Of course Ruwl was right. But Tykkin?

Suddenly something came to him, a ditty: "…bottles and batwings, spells to make bees sing, it's all for the book, the lists of Prince Tykkin. Hell," he said, finally remembering. "He's the bloody compendiast!"

The wizard actually chuckled. Marshal Ruwl pursed his lips. "If you mean the Prince is fond of the study of natural history and artifacts of rare and special significance, then yes, he is."

"Like the fabled Eastern Star, Red Star, whatever-you-call-it Star of Sillra," Konowa said, fitting at least one of the pieces of this puzzle in place.

"The Star, as I mentioned, is far more important politically, and the Prince has been made aware of this. He assures me his interest is in matters more pertinent to the state of the empire."

Konowa thought he understood, and the knowledge made him sick to his stomach. "Aha. The Queen's feeling her age so she's preparing the young snot to sit on the throne. Time to trade in the scrolls and telescopes for a sword and scepter. Crush a rebellion, debunk some legends, find a pretty bauble in the process. And I get the distinct honor of nursemaiding him through the whole damn coming-of-age exercise."

Ruwl flushed red. His hand strayed toward his saber, but only grabbed the sword knot. When he spoke, it was in a whisper that carried like an arrow through silk. "A year is a long time to live alone in the wild, especially in this land. It would be easy for an elf to forget the greater world and its rules of conduct, so I will grant you this impertinence here, now. When you leave this tent, however, you are an officer in Her Majesty's Army and you will act like one, or so help me I will return you to the forest myself, one piece at a time." The marshal removed his hand from the sword knot and, pivoting on one heel, parted the tent flaps and stepped outside, leaving Konowa alone with the wizard.

Konowa stared after Ruwl, wholly unsatisfied with the way events were developing. Things were moving too fast, too fast by half.

"It's been a long time, my boy," Leaf Talker said, offering Konowa a nut. "Maybe not long enough," Konowa said, still staring at the tent flaps.

"Ah, then perhaps your time with nature was more beneficial than your current attitude and appearance would suggest?" he asked, ignoring Konowa's rudeness.

Konowa said nothing for several seconds, then turned to fix the wizard with a cold stare. "I still hate the forest, Father."

Visyna rode her horse into the tree line along the western edge of the encampment. The noise and smell of so many soldiers in one place was overwhelming, and the bitter tang of metal filled the air. She took the first opportunity she could to get away. After her disappearance of last week, her father's men were not at all inclined to let her go anywhere unescorted, which is why four cavalry troopers rode a few hundred yards behind her.

"Stay in the open, please, my lady," one of the troopers shouted.

Visyna turned on her horse and cast a withering glare back at him. "A lady sometimes needs privacy, especially after morning tea."

The soldier reined in his horse as if he'd come to the edge of a cliff. "Yes, of course, my lady. My apologies."

Visyna turned away to hide her smile from the blushing trooper. She clicked her tongue and her horse edged farther into the trees until they were hidden from view. She figured she had ten, maybe fifteen minutes at the most before they would come looking for her. It would have to be enough.

She continued deeper into the woods for another minute, then halted her horse, lightly jumping from its back to the forest floor. The horse whinnied, and she ran a hand along its neck, enjoying the trembling wave of muscle that greeted her touch.

"Stay," she whispered, and walked deeper into the woods.

The smells here were wonderful. She took a deep breath and luxuriated in the beauty and freshness of new growth. Birds chirped and sang gaily, while beneath it was the steady hum of insects. How, she wondered, could he not love this?

Konowa. He excited her and frustrated her as no other had, and suitors had always been as plentiful as the leaves on a tree. So why did she find this elf so intriguing? He was Jarahta Mysor, a tainted one. And even though she knew it couldn't be true, she swore she could smell metal in his blood when he was near her. He was loud, quick to anger, obstinate, and worst of all…apparently not the least bit interested in her. Not once had he come to visit her since they arrived in camp, instead spending all his time drinking with the Duke. Sergeant Lorian, on the other hand, was most certainly interested-the four troopers with her today had been hand-picked by him to guard her. Lorian was considering buying a commission and becoming an officer, a fact that would raise his prospects with her father, and, she realized, impressed her, too.

But he wasn't Konowa.

Enough, she chided herself, there would be time later for that. Looking around once to make sure she was alone, Visyna walked a little farther until she found a small bare patch of dirt under a large soap nut tree. She closed her eyes for a moment and let her senses explore the area, questing for a sign, but as usual, she detected nothing.

Opening her eyes, she sat down cross-legged on the earth and began the breathing ritual. The birdsong faded, followed by the hum of insects, and soon not even the leaves rustled. With each intake of breath, her hands wove intricate designs in the air in front of her. With each exhalation, she drew her hands across an imaginary plane, erasing the designs suspended before her. She coaxed her senses to delve deeper into the fabric of the forest and felt herself stretched and pulled as if great wings bore her aloft, her ethereal being soaring ever higher. Time was running out.