Chris Evans - A Darkness Forged in Fire

Konowa was in no mood to be placated. How could his father not see the only course of action open to them? "The Iron Elves should be called back and then the entire Imperial Army should be sent against Her mountain. What will killing the Viceroy all over again achieve? We should go after Her."

Jurwan shook his head. "She is strong now, much stronger than She has ever been. Her trees have dug deep into the mountain, feeding on a power they were never meant to taste. A direct assault would end in disaster. No, Luuguth Jor is where you must go, and quickly."

"With the Prince in command?" Konowa asked. Thoughts of the man made him grip the knife harder, his knuckles whitening. "What does His Highness know about fighting?"

"Consider that this is the Queen's son, the future King and ruler of the Empire," Jurwan said, reaching over and tapping Konowa on the hand so that his grip relaxed. "You have an opportunity to shape the monarch-in-waiting. Think what it would mean if you could convince him that the lands of the Hynta elves were best left to us."

Konowa looked at his father with genuine surprise. "The past is gone, Father. The Hynta's only hope is in embracing the future. You know I think this idea of the Queen's, if it really is Her idea, to be a complete farce, but this Empire isn't going away, and with each passing year it grows stronger. The Long Watch will have precious little to watch over if they don't accept that."

"The Long Watch have seen the rise and fall of more than one empire. Do not be so sure it won't bear witness to the demise of this one, too."

"Then help me, Father, help me to destroy Her. Convince Ruwl to call back the Iron Elves before it's too late."

Jurwan shook his head. "The more I think on this, the more I am happy that they are far away. She would try to turn them, too. No, better they stay where they are for now."

"Then what should I do?" Konowa asked.

Jurwan acted as if he had not heard him. "I received a message from your mother. The Long Watch are very worried."

Konowa sighed. "The Long Watch are always worried; it's their nature. They fight for a past that is gone. I'm worried about the here and now."

"It is the here and now that is becoming the past that has them worried," Jurwan said. "Many said we should burn everything and put an end to Her."

Konowa leaned forward. "Burn it? I can't imagine the Elves of the Long Watch burning a forest, not even Her forest."

"Probably not. Their compassion for all living things is a heavy burden. I fear before long we will reap a bitter harvest from this." He hesitated for a moment, then reached out his hand and gave Konowa a small pouch.

"More spice? Unless you want me to kill rakkes with my cooking, I'll need more than this."

The pouch felt heavy and cold. Konowa undid the leather thong and looked inside.

There was only blackness. Without pausing, he reached down with a finger to see what trickery was going on. His finger touched something freezing and hard.

"Wh-" was all he had time to say before a stabbing pain entered his finger like a thin stiletto of ice. He pulled it away and brought his finger to his lips. Immediately a bolt of lightning surged through his body, leaving him trembling and panting. He watched with open-mouthed amazement as Jurwan reached over and took the pouch from his other hand, tied up the thong, and set it down on the ground.

"It's an acorn from Her ryk faur, the silver Wolf Oak She would not let die," Jurwan said, his face giving nothing away. "You have carried a great burden all these years, my son, bearing the mark of otherness with a strength and pride that has served our people well, though they choose not to see it. You did not bond with a Wolf Oak and join the ranks of the Long Watch, yet you, and those elves like you, have protected the Hynta and its forests at a great cost. The Iron Elves live again, and I think this time, they deserve more than the scorn of their people."

"But this is-"

Jurwan held up his hand. "Help, I believe, when you need it most. Until then, leave it be. Now," Jurwan said, smiling again, "stir the soup, my son. Adventures, however ill-advised, are better met on a full stomach…and you'll need your strength if I'm to have grandchildren any time soon."

Konowa did as he was asked, but he was no longer hungry. He stared down at the leather pouch on the ground. The full import of what he was embarking on was only just starting to seep into his understanding, the chances of success slim to remote.

"But real all the same," Jurwan said, taking the knife from his son's hand and stirring the soup himself. "Let us hope it is enough."

No better time than now offers itself to smart young elves and NOW humans, too. (Dwarves need not apply!) Come, be a part of history as the Light Infantry of the Hynta, the Iron Elves, the most famous siggers to ever wear Her Majesty's colors, march again!

Enjoy the Honor of being commanded by HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS, PRINCE TYKKIN, whose distinguished ability and flawless character is so great that no language can do it justice.

NB. Clothing and accoutrements are of the highest quality and all soldiers accepted into the rank will be provided the famous winged shako. Arrears paid to relieve soldiers of obligations to debtors including relatives, business associates, former regiments, and up to three wives.

Konowa crumpled the leaflet in his hand and let it fall to the ground. The only path they were likely to tread in the coming days was one washed with blood. He looked up and started walking toward the parade square where the new regiment was being formed.

Everything was moving too fast, and all in the wrong direction.

Just a week ago, his biggest concern had been getting smothered by mosquitoes in the forest. Now he was enmeshed in a web of events he didn't begin to understand, but he knew he'd better if he and the regiment were going to survive. Nothing that had happened to him so far gave him much hope, especially the notion that there was a shadowy hand guiding things as his father suggested. He instinctively patted his coat, where the pouch Jurwan had given him was tucked away. He was constantly reaching for it, a little worried that he should suddenly feel so attached to the blackness held within. Every so often he would feel a sensation as if the leather had been worn away, allowing the cold smoothness of the acorn's shell to rub against his skin, sending a sudden chill coursing through his body. Despite the heat, it was a feeling he could have done without. Each time it happened, he felt tempted to open it up and look inside, and each time he fought it. His life was growing increasingly more complicated by the day without adding to its difficulties by ignoring a wizard's warning. Perhaps, he mused, his newfound restraint boded well.

"Get your hard head back to the wagons. The regiment isn't accepting any dwarves!"

As usual, Konowa was dead wrong. He looked up to see a large group of soldiers milling about the parade square as a sergeant yelled at a dwarf soldier. Konowa recognized the dwarf as the one Jir had taken an interest in.

"Trouble?" Konowa asked. Jaal had recommended Sergeant Lorian be promoted as the Iron Elves' regimental sergeant major and Konowa had happily agreed. As with most of the details, the Prince had neglected to find an RSM and no regiments would give theirs up. Konowa came to a halt in front of the troops and returned Lorian's salute while the soldiers came to attention. It was still taking Konowa by surprise-the only salute he'd received in the forest had been Jir lifting his leg.

"No, sir, I was just culling the herd. The Prince's leaflet has attracted quite a few volunteers, including this dwarf."