Chris Evans - A Darkness Forged in Fire

There was the sound of boots and Regimental Sergeant Major Lorian came into view. He leaned against his halberd to catch his breath. "Arkhorn, fall out and bring your section with you."

"Yes, Sergeant Major," Yimt said, and motioned for the section to step out of line.

As they marched past the rest of the regiment, Alwyn couldn't help but notice that the other troops were giving them an odd look. It surprised him to realize it was pity. What, he wondered, did they know that he didn't?

The section reached the head of the column, where the smell was definitely stronger. Yimt called a halt and the section grounded their muskets, the sound oddly muffled. Alwyn looked down and saw they were standing in tufts of short, spindly grass. Grass. They had made it through the vines! He looked up and noticed that what he had at first taken for more vines in the distance was a grove of trees on a downward slope. He almost shouted for joy, the hardships and horrors of the journey falling away as if an angel had plucked them from his shoulders.

Then he saw the dirt.

"I could plant me some nice crops here," Inkermon the farmer said, scuffing the earth with his boot. "Got heft, it does, and plenty of vitamins in it, too. The Creator has blessed this land."

"What is that?" Alwyn asked, ignoring the farmer's assessment and pointing his chin to where the officers were grouped in a circle. A hundred yards beyond them the earth was humped, at least two men tall and a few hundred feet across. The mound was blood-red in color and peppered with holes big enough for several faeraugs to jump out of at once.

"Some kind of warren, I reckon," Inkermon said, sucking thought-fully on the single tooth in the front of his mouth. "Awfully big holes to be water gryphs, though."

This was something new to worry about. "Water gryphs?"

"Sure, you find them along rivers an' such, but it don't look like no warren I ever seen them in."

The first drop of rain fell with a splat on Alwyn's nose. He looked up and was rewarded with several warm, fat drops pelting him in the face and blurring his spectacles as the sky opened up directly above them.

"River?"

"Over there past that grove of trees. Can't you smell it?"

Alwyn squinted through the rain. "I don't see it."

"Course you don't, it's tucked down there below where them trees is at. You got to pay attention to the lay of the land is all. That and the smell. I tell you, with this dirt and that water and the Creator's guiding hand, a fellow could do right proper here."

The rain was now slashing down. Alwyn tried tipping his head forward slightly to shield his face, but as soon as he did, the rain trickled down his back. He looked over at Inkermon. He'd taken a different tack and leaned his head far back and opened his mouth wide, his single tooth glistening a buttery yellow as rainwater splashed into his mouth.

Movement to the left drew Alwyn's attention away. The elfkynan witch and a couple of the muraphant drivers had dismounted and walked up to the front of the column. The Prince waved them over to the group. It was impossible to hear what was being said, but there was a lot of pointing toward the mound. One of the elfkynan took a few tentative steps toward the mound, then started shaking his head and turned around and ran right back past the officers and kept going. Alwyn got a good look at his face as he ran past, and it did nothing to instill hope.

The second muraphant driver began gesticulating wildly while the witch pointed a finger at no one in particular and stamped a boot on the ground. The Prince, surprisingly, seemed amused by it all, while the major just stood there, his left hand resting on the pommel of his saber, his right clutching his chest.

The other elfkynan started shaking his head, too, and the Prince appeared to agree, because he suddenly pointed at the major and everyone stopped talking.

"Look sharp!" Yimt said.

The RSM and Major Osveen left the small group and marched through the rain toward them, talking and looking back over their shoulders toward the large dirt mound. They stopped a few feet away and the major addressed them. Even through the rain Alwyn could see the major was steaming.

"It'll be dark soon, so the quicker we get this sorted out, the quicker we can set up camp. Corporal Arkhorn," the major said, "you know how this works."

Yimt nodded. Water cascaded off his beard like a miniature waterfall, turning the normally black mass a shimmering silver. "Is that witch going to be any help?"

Lorian straightened up and glared at Yimt. "Not at this time."

If the news bothered Yimt, he didn't show it. He patted the hilt of his drukar and pointed over his shoulder. "Fair enough. Once I get inside, I'll light a charge. After that, it's all down to who wants it more." He hunched over his pack and opened the flap, revealing a white gauze bundle the size of a loaf of bread.

The RSM looked surprised. "What are you doing with an artillery charge? That isn't part of an infantryman's kit."

Yimt flashed him a metallic smile. "A soldier never knows what kind of important task those higher up than himself might ask him to do. It's a murky path, trying to divine the thoughts and fancies of your finer thinkers like officers, so I try to be prepared…just in case. I call it me head-and-shoulder plan."

Major Osveen obliged. "Head-and-shoulder plan?"

Yimt tapped his head and then his shoulder. "Keeping the one as close to the other as possible."

"See that you do," the major said, a smile he did nothing to hide stealing over his face. "And the same goes for the rest of you. There might be nothing in there, then again…"

"Not to fret, sir," Yimt said, taking off his shako and unslinging his shatterbow, motioning for the section to shed their packs and all other unnecessary equipment. The rain bounced off the top of his head and the thin skiff of hair covering it. "We'll be back in two shakes of a dragon's tail. Oh, speaking of tails, that kitty-cat of yours any good for sniffing things out, Major?"

The major looked over his shoulder to where Jir was tapping a large paw into a puddle, apparently mesmerized by the splashing raindrops.

"If he's in the mood," he said, whistling to the bengar and making a hand gesture toward the mound.

Jir looked up from his puddle and twisted his head from side to side as if contemplating the request, then bounded toward the warren and was lost in the rain.

"Right, we'd best get after him," Yimt said, saluting and quickly addressing the patrol. "Until we know better, you get it in your heads that there is something nasty down there and act like it. Keep your yaps shut unless you see something. We'll get closer and then see what we're dealing with."

He looked from soldier to soldier, his glance hard and determined. Alwyn returned it, unable to read anything else in the dwarf's eyes.

"Fix bayonets and make sure they're locked in tight. I don't want it pulling off the first time it gets stuck into something solid."

Alwyn grabbed the bayonet out of the frog on his belt and fumbled to get it in place. Everything was slick with rain and he was keenly aware that he was being watched. He took a breath and tried again, sighing with relief when the tell-tale click sounded.

"Follow me." Yimt took off at a casual walk, his drukar in his right hand, his pack in his left. Alwyn wondered if he would ever be that confident. Who knew what they might find in there, yet Yimt walked toward the mound as if he wasn't the least bit concerned.

They were quickly past the cluster of officers who stood watching their movement as if it were a training drill.

Adding to the surreal quality of the moment, their horses were busy cropping at grass. Alwyn took their calmness as a good sign.

Yimt held up his hand and motioned for the section to stay still. Alwyn instinctively crouched lower in the grass and felt for the hammer on his rifle, then stopped. With the rain beating down, there was no way the powder would be dry enough to spark. He'd heard of regimental wizards casting spells on powder to keep it dry, but he seriously doubted a spell could overcome this much rain, so it wouldn't have mattered anyway. Still, that witch could have at least tried.