Chris Evans - A Darkness Forged in Fire

"This is not at all how I expected the evening to turn out."

Konowa whirled around at the sound of the voice. "You're alive."

"I am pleased to see you in a like state." Rallie stood among the tattered remains of the tent, her cloak as pristine as when she'd first entered it. Her hair, however, was even frizzier.

"And the Prince?" Konowa asked.

"Still in one piece," he called out, hobbling out of the dark to stand in front of her. "No thanks to the guard detail for my tent." He made an effort to stand up straight and brush at the many rents in his uniform. "Secure this camp and put every man on watch, then flog the soldier in charge of protecting me!"

Konowa wanted to strike Prince Tykkin right across the mouth. "Sir? Surely you don't blame the men for this?" He took a step forward-this fool couldn't really mean it. "There was no way to know these creatures were going to attack."

Several soldiers gasped and the Prince's eyes grew wide. He took one step backward and placed his hands on his hips. "Are you threatening me, Major?"

Konowa raised his hands in confusion and only then realized he still held his saber in his hand. He reached down to grab a couple of vine leaves to clean the blade before sheathing it, but stopped when he saw the steel was perfectly clean. "My apologies, Colonel…the heat of battle, you understand."

"I'm sure the Prince understands-" Rallie started to say, but was cut off as the Prince surged past her.

"I want a name, Major, and I want it right now."

"Sir, perhaps we could discuss this in private," Konowa said, motioning toward the soldiers grouped around. The dwarf had been set free and had come up to stand close by, as if guarding Konowa's back. Surprisingly, it was a definite comfort.

"No need, Major, it's my fault," Lorian said, coming forward. He had lost his shako and his hair was plastered to his skull, the sweat still dripping down his face. The steel tip of his eight-foot-long halberd glistened with black blood and he leaned on it to catch his breath before straightening up and saluting the Prince. "Colonel, as acting regimental sergeant major, the responsibility was mine. If anyone is to be flogged, it should be me."

The Prince smiled, a humorless one no doubt refined in Her Majesty's court, maintaining pretense without any actual warmth behind it. "A noble gesture, but no, I want the man responsible. Who was in charge of my guard detail?"

The muscles in Lorian's jaw trembled and he looked at Konowa beseechingly.

"Tell me!" Prince Tykkin ordered.

Lorian let out a small sigh. "Corporal Kritton, sir, the elf. He was assigned to guard your tent."

"An elf," the Prince spat out, fixing Konowa with a baleful stare. "Very well, I want him broken to private and given twenty lashes at dawn. Is that clear? Major, you will see to it personally."

Konowa's protest died on his lips. Dozens of soldiers were now standing around them, the flickering light of burning brands shooting shadows back and forth across the blood-soaked earth. Musket fire still crackled and the cries of wounded punctuated the night and Konowa knew he had more important things to attend to.

"Yes, sir," Konowa said, saluting and leaving. He headed for the nearest fire, where a group of soldiers were tending to the wounded.

"The Prince survived?" Visyna asked, appearing suddenly in front of Konowa, halting him in his tracks.

"Thanks in large part to the dwarf. When a day or two has passed, I'm going to recommend him for a medal. The Prince won't agree, of course, but it should make promoting Private Arkhorn to Corporal significantly easier."

Visyna shook her head. "Surely you see the folly in this. This regiment is anathema to everything natural. I fear that the faeraugs were but the first of many tribulations to come."

"Wrapping ourselves in leaves and chewing grass won't change that," Konowa said, moving to step past Visyna. She surprised him by reaching out a hand and grabbing his arm.

"Get rid of it."

Konowa was nonplussed. "Get rid of what?"

Visyna gripped his arm harder. "You know what I'm talking about. I can feel it as if I held it in my hand. Your father was wrong to give it to you. It will not provide you with the help you need."

"And I suppose you will? Like the way you burned the vines when I asked you?"

She let go of his arm. "And what then? Would you have me burn every piece of land that holds shadows? This regiment is no different from the Empire that spawned it. Wherever it goes, it will leave a scar."

"Better the land than us," Konowa said.

Visyna shook her head. "Do you not see? You are already wounded," she said, pointing not to his ear, but to the place where the pouch lay under his jacket. "You risk everything for nothing. When we were in the forest, I sensed that you were starting to connect with the power around you. Don't give up now."

Konowa felt his face flush. "Stay out of my mind, Visyna. You don't know anything about it."

"Then help me to understand, and let me help you."

"And what, go back to the forest and live among the bloody trees?" Konowa asked. "Have you ever met an elf of the Long Watch? They live in a world that has little to do with the one the rest of us inhabit. They will sit for days in a field of grass just to listen to the wind play among the blades and think nothing of food. I've seen them weep like babies when a tree is struck by lightning, yet when a wagon full of human homesteaders foundered and drowned in a fast-flowing river their only concern was that the wood of the wagon was pierced with iron nails!"

"And what would these humans have done except cut the trees to clear the land for farming, built roads, and dug up the earth in search of metal?" Her face was taut with an inner struggle, as if every fiber of her being was restraining the desire to call a bolt of lightning down on him. "If the elves of the Long Watch don't care for this world, who will? Your precious Empire that brings civilization at the point of a bayonet? Your master's way is the way of fire and violence. Burn it if it won't change to meet your needs. Slash it down if it won't bow to your will. Great rifts are being carved in the natural order of the world. Do you think that can go on forever without consequence?"

Konowa wasn't sure what he would have said next, as a soldier came running up and interrupted them.

"Begging the major's pardon, but we've got a man in a bad way. We need the witch, sir." He was breathing heavily, his eyes still wide with the exertion of fighting just a few moments ago.

"Take me to him," Visyna said, turning her back on Konowa and moving off into the night. The soldier looked from her to Konowa.

"Show her!" Konowa barked, following them as the soldier tore off through the shattered camp.

Faeraugs lay dead everywhere he looked. He saw bits of uniforms, broken muskets, and overturned cook pots interspersed among the carnage, and tried to picture what the camp had looked like just a short time ago.

"Make a hole, the major and his witch coming through!"

A group of soldiers parted, revealing a man lying flat on his back, his right arm draped over his stomach. Konowa kneeled on one side and Visyna on the other.

"E-evening, Major…"

"I remember you," Konowa said, looking into the man's one good eye. Blood covered the soldier's face and a rattling sound emanated from his chest.

"Yes…yes, sir, Meri. Hell of a night, sir, if you'll pardon my swearing. I did my best, Major. I didn't let you down-" Meri was suddenly racked with coughing, and blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. His right arm slid off his body and Konowa gently grabbed him by the hand, placing it back over the gaping wound in his stomach. Meri's skin already felt cold.

"I know you did. You just rest, Meri, save your strength," Konowa said, looking over at Visyna. "Miss Tekoy here will fix you right up."