Chris Evans - A Darkness Forged in Fire

Faeraugs lunged and skittered all around them, looking for an opening, but whenever one leaped, Yimt's drukar met it head-on. A red, pulpy mist soon surrounded them, and Alwyn's specs were completely covered in blood.

"Yimt, put me down and I can help," Alwyn shouted, not really sure how true that was.

The dwarf kept swinging his drukar. "Naw, you're doing fine as my shield."

"What?"

"Just teasing, but you are getting a bit heavy," Yimt said as he set Alwyn back on the ground. "Find a weapon and watch my back."

Alwyn ran a quick hand across his specs and picked up the first musket he could find. It was slimy with faeraug guts and the stock was shattered, but it was better than nothing. He risked a quick look at Yimt and was horrified at what he saw.

Yimt held his drukar in his right hand and a bayonet in his left. Both were slick with blood. But it was Yimt's face that startled Alwyn. He'd expected to see the Little Mad One in all his fury, but instead the dwarf looked as calm as a still pond. Alwyn realized then that Yimt wasn't just a soldier. He was a professional killer, and he was in his element.

Unfortunately, so were the faeraugs.

Konowa looked back to the tent, but could no longer tell where it was. Soldiers milled about everywhere, and the dwarf, if he still lived, was nowhere in sight. A faeraug scrambled into the cleared circle and Konowa impaled it with a two-handed stab, pinning it and his saber to the ground.

When he tried to remove the blade he found it was stuck.

The dog-spiders seemed to sense his problem and started creeping toward him.

Konowa looked around frantically for something to fend them off with. In complete desperation, he grabbed hold of one of the pincers from the dead faeraug and ripped it free to use as a weapon. Black slime oozed from the torn end, covering Konowa's hands and making it difficult to keep a good grip.

The faeraugs continued to close, their feelers waving madly, as if to say we have you now. Konowa was preparing to charge straight at them when a sensation of cold needles stabbing his chest brought him to his knees. He opened his mouth to scream but nothing, not a sound, not even a breath passed his lips. Am I dead? he wondered, watching the faeraugs move ever closer.

A faeraug scrabbled forward on its eight spindly legs to mere inches in front of him. Its pincers opened and closed and then it squatted, preparing to lunge straight for his throat. Konowa tried to lift his hand, but his body would not respond. Other faeraugs were moving in, getting ready to swarm.

The acorn from Her Wolf Oak pressing against his chest beat like his own heart.

The faeraug jumped.

It all happened in an instant.

The faeraug leaped into the air and was skewered on the point of a sword. It squirmed frantically as a black frost spread over it. A moment later, it burst into black flame and was utterly consumed. Konowa shook his head, not sure what he was seeing. The other faeraugs scattered as a group of soldiers suddenly loomed from the darkness, hacking their way through the creatures with a cold precision that Konowa could never hope to emulate. In a rush of sound and heat, the world came back to Konowa, and his senses were once again assaulted by the battle around him.

The soldiers had formed a protective ring around Konowa with their backs to him, their swords rising and falling with grim determination. He was unable to see any of their faces, their bodies always cloaked in shadow no matter which way they turned. Konowa clutched at his chest as he gulped in air and tried to stand.

A whistling noise made him look up. A silver light was arcing across the night sky. When it reached its apex it stopped, and then burst with a ferocious concussion. His ears buzzed with pain and his sight went completely white even as he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, it looked like broad daylight. Scattered groups of soldiers cheered, their muskets rising and falling like scythe-men walking through a field of grain. The faeraugs, so terrifying in the dark, now appeared smaller, more vulnerable. The light confused them, and they started to flee toward the vines.

The soldiers who had saved him were gone.

A presence approached Konowa from behind. He grabbed for his blade and wrenched it free, then spun around to defend himself. A cold, burning sensation stung his hands, and when he risked a look down he saw that they were clean, the blood of the faeraug completely gone, a few crystals of frost winking along the hilt of the saber before they, too, vanished.

"They only hunt at night-we will be safe now," Visyna said. Her clothes were torn and she had a thin red cut along one cheek, but otherwise she appeared unhurt.

"You did that?" Konowa asked, pointing up at the sky with his saber.

"It's little more than a conjurer's trick," Visyna said, a look in her eyes saying otherwise.

"Can you burn the vines?" Konowa asked. He was looking for signs of the dwarf and Rallie, but there was still too much chaos to make out anything clearly.

"Yes, but the muraphants are still out there, and a fire would only panic them further. Besides, the light will be enough for your men to defend themselves now. The faeraugs are fleeing."

"To hell with that!" Konowa rasped, rounding on her and bringing his face inches from hers. "If you have the power to destroy these things, then do it!"

Visyna glared back at him and stood her ground. "You would have me lay waste to this entire area even though you are now protected?"

Konowa opened his eyes in surprise. "You're just like the elves of the Long Watch. They'd sit idly by and watch men freeze before they'd fell a tree to make a fire. This isn't a game, Visyna. Torch the vines, that's an order."

It was her turn to look surprised. "I will not kill indiscriminately, and I most certainly am not a soldier for you to command. I have provided you light-defend your men by it as you see fit, but I will not do more to aid in this slaughter."

Konowa clenched the pommel of his saber and gritted his teeth. Visyna's eyes glinted with the reflected light that still burned above them, and it was clear she wasn't going to listen to him. Without another word, Konowa spun on his heel and sprinted toward the Prince's tent. Dead faeraugs lay everywhere, their black blood churned into the earth by the boots of the soldiers, the massive foot pads of the muraphants creating a grotesque mud.

"Has anyone seen the colonel?" Konowa shouted, fully expecting to find the Prince in a hundred pieces.

A bent blade swung up in the air, dripping blood. "He's over here, Major, and none the worse for wear, I'd wager," Private Arkhorn said.

Konowa jogged the last few yards and stopped in amazement. The dwarf was covered in the black blood of the faeraugs, their bodies piled up around him to his waist. In fact, the dwarf was actually stuck, and using his drukar to chop his way out of the entanglement.

"Get that man out of there," Konowa ordered. Several soldiers began spearing the bodies on the end of their bayonets and heaving them away.

"Easy lads, easy," the dwarf yelled, menacing them with his blade. "Not all the meat in here is bug."

Shouts to his left drew Konowa's attention and he prepared for another attack, but relaxed as Jir bounded into the light, the body of a faeraug clamped firmly between his teeth. The dog-spider's legs were still twitching.

"There you are," Konowa said, reaching out to pat the bengar on the head. Jir growled and dropped his muzzle toward the ground so that he could stare up at Konowa through the fur of his bushy eyebrows.

Konowa slowly pulled his hand back and broke eye contact. "And here I am, over here, nowhere near your dinner."

Jir sniffed once and quietly padded across the open ground toward the darkness, his eyes never straying from Konowa. All the while, the eight legs of the faeraug twitched and convulsed in Jir's mouth. The soldiers gave him a wide berth.