Chris Evans - A Darkness Forged in Fire

He looked back to the fire and spotted Visyna sitting with Lorian and a group of soldiers. Well, that didn't take long. Seeing her tonight was perhaps not a great idea either, but after all that time alone, he was ready for change. Besides, majors outranked regimental sergeant majors-he'd find something to keep Lorian busy with.

He started toward Visyna, shouting out and waving as he went. Lorian stiffened, pulled back from her, and began talking to a soldier nearby. Konowa wasn't sure if he wanted to feel jealous or not. Later , he scolded himself. For now he would tell Lorian to double the watch. That would get him out of the way and take care of Konowa's nagging suspicion that something just wasn't right. He ran the back of a hand across his forehead and realized he was no longer sweating.

The acorn under his jacket felt like a block of ice pressed against his skin and he gasped. There was something out there, just outside the glow of the fires.

He was almost right. The first scream came from inside the camp as hell opened up and engulfed them whole.

K onowa turned and came face to face with horror.

Black-carapaced creatures the size of small dogs were emerging from the sides of hollow vines. The insects, if that's what they were, made a chittering noise by clacking together a pair of curving pincers that jutted out from diamond-shaped heads. Feelers waved frantically where eyes should have been as they scurried forward on eight spindly legs covered with coarse black hair.

There was a tremendous bellow and Konowa jumped to the side as panicked muraphants thundered past, their trunks held high in the air. The black insects leaped at the animals as they stampeded, but the four brindos ran alongside, head-butting and trampling the eight-legged horrors at every turn.

" To arms! " Konowa shouted, drawing his saber from its scabbard.

" Faeraugs! " Visyna screamed, running to stand beside him. She saw the incomprehension on his face and shouted again. "Dog-spiders! They haven't been seen in these parts in years! This makes no sense!"

Like rakkes, he thought to himself, taking a step forward to keep her behind him. He felt naked without his musket, furious that he'd left it with his saddle and other baggage.

"They'll try to drag people back into their vines-we have to stop them," Visyna yelled, her thin stiletto flashing in her hand.

"Stay here," Konowa said, starting forward to attack the nearest faeraugs as more boiled out of the vines.

"Major! Your orders?"

Konowa spotted Lorian twenty yards away, already directing a group of soldiers. The men! I'm an officer again, Konowa chided himself, responsible for the lives of hundreds, not just his own. He took another step forward, then forced himself to stop.

"Don't bother loading. Fix bayonets! A and B companies fall back to the road, don't leave anyone behind! C Company on me!" he cried, slowly walking back toward the wagons as the faeraugs scrambled closer.

"No!" Visyna screamed, grabbing him by the arm. "They need to stay by the fires. You need light!"

"I can see well enough," Konowa said, shrugging loose from her grasp.

"But they can't! They're not elves, they're men."

Konowa realized his mistake too late. "Damn it!" He tried shouting again for the men to go back toward the campfires, but the chittering noise had risen to such a high pitch that he couldn't make himself heard.

Suddenly, a faeraug lunged at Konowa's leg and he cut down with the saber, severing the monster in two. His arm tingled; the faeraug's body was like wood. Something surged inside him, a feeling of cold power, but there was no time to puzzle it out. Another came at him from the left and he pivoted, stabbing it between its pincers. This time the blade slid in easily. A gush of oily black fluid spurted from the dying creature's mouth as he withdrew the saber. Frost appeared to briefly glitter along the blade.

He became aware of the noise and chaos beyond him and looked up.

Soldiers thrashed madly, stabbing with bayonets and smashing at their attackers with the butts of their muskets. Screams and yells punctuated the horrible chittering noise. Here and there a bright flash was seen, followed by the sharp crack of a musket firing, indicating some of the men had been able to load and fire. There was a roar and whoosh and two fiery trails arced across the black to detonate a second later, sending parts of faeraugs flying high into the air. But for every shot there were a hundred chittering shrieks-the odds were not in their favor.

"Visyna, tell the muraphant drivers to take burning brands from the fire and move forward to give the soldiers light. Visyna!" He whirled around but couldn't see her anywhere. He started to run toward the fire, and several faeraugs pounced on him at once, their combined weight knocking him to the ground. Instead of bracing for the fall, Konowa curled and rolled as he hit, shaking the creatures from his back and jumping back onto his feet before they could attack again. He swung his saber in a smooth arc and felt it slice through their thick flesh three times. Jolts of lightning raced through his arm and shoulder, but he managed to hold on to his saber. Konowa stumbled backward as another faeraug bore down on him. A soldier stepped in front of him and cleaved it in two. Four more were quickly dispatched and the bugs skittered into the dark, looking for easier prey.

"Thanks," Konowa said, reaching out his free hand to clasp the shoulder of his savior.

"If you are to die, it will be by my hand and no other," Kritton replied, glaring at Konowa before moving off into the night.

There was no time to debate the matter, as a new cry caught Konowa's attention.

"The Prince! Rally to the Prince!"

A seething mass of the creatures was crawling over the Prince's marquee, pulling it down by sheer weight of numbers. Their pincers cut through the cloth with ease, allowing still more of the monsters to pour through the gaps like water into a sinking ship. A group of soldiers led by the drukar-wielding dwarf, Private Arkhorn, were hacking and stabbing their way toward the marquee even as screams came from inside.

They aren't going to make it in time, Konowa realized, unsure if that troubled him or not. He took a tentative step toward the tent and was immediately set on by several more faeraugs, ending any thoughts he had of rendering aid to the Prince. Konowa had time for one more glance just as the tent collapsed completely, with the soldiers still several yards away, before the pincers of the faeraugs close at hand drew his attention back.

Konowa swung his saber back and forth to keep a circle of clear ground around him as he edged backward toward the fire. It suddenly dawned on him that he'd misheard the warning. It wasn't rally to the Prince, it had been Rallie and the Prince-she was still in there.

Alwyn clenched his musket in both hands like a club and swung it wildly. He missed the faeraug he was aiming for and knocked Yimt's shako off the dwarf's head.

"Watch where you're swinging that bloody thing!" Yimt shouted, managing to duck out of the way just in time as Alwyn took aim at another creature. The two of them were pressed back to back fending off the dog-spiders.

"There are too many of them," Alwyn cried, swinging his musket again. It connected, and he felt the satisfying crunch of a faeraug's head being caved in, but in the next instant three more latched on to his musket and tore it from his hands. Another jumped at his face and Alwyn threw up his arms as a last defense.

He suddenly found himself lifted off his feet. Alwyn lowered his arm to see Yimt had picked him up with one hand while wielding his drukar with the other. Alwyn tried and failed to follow the course of the dwarf's blade as it slashed through the faeraugs. Wind whistled past Alwyn's ears as Yimt swung his drukar. The black blade was a whistling blur of death.