Chris Evans - A Darkness Forged in Fire

"Lie down!"

It sounded like the witch, Miss Tekoy. Alwyn dove to the earth, curling his legs up underneath him. A moment later, the air thrummed with energy and for the second time in as many minutes his vision was filled by first yellow, then white, then black.

The air went eerily silent. Then it began to rain bats.

Alwyn scrambled to his feet as the creatures began tumbling to earth, their leathery bodies smashing to the ground with sickening wet sounds.

Jir bounded into view and began leaping into the air to grab the bats as they fell, as if it were a game. Several soldiers were doing much the same, only they were trying to catch the falling bats on their bayonets. Alwyn shook his head and turned back toward Yimt, who was struggling to pull a bat out of his beard. A quick snap of the neck ended the bat's struggle and Yimt held it up by a wing.

"So what do we do now?" Alywn asked.

Yimt looked at the bat in his hand, then back at Alwyn. "Dinner."

Visyna knew she hadn't had a choice in killing the bats, just as it had been with the faerangs, but it still made her ill. This was nature perverted. The bats had been driven by far more than anger and hunger. She headed for the grove of trees while the soldiers ran around like little boys. It didn't bother her that the troops were acting like little boys as they did this, she told herself. What did bother her was Konowa. He refused to recognize the danger of carrying a piece of the Shadow Monarch's mountain with him, even as he tried to be more understanding of her concerns.

Life thrummed through the land here, a cleaner, more wholesome energy than what had coursed through the vine-covered plain, but it was clear that Elfkyna was sick. Nothing felt the way it should, and it was getting worse. Her concern about Konowa's affections suddenly struck her as utterly foolish. He was a soldier for an Empire that had subjugated her people and land. She chided herself; she would not succumb to passion when the world she knew teetered on the edge of oblivion.

Her pace quickened and she walked briskly to the edge of the grove, then stopped and looked around. Soldiers milled around several fires and even Rallie was occupied, having accepted the Prince's invitation to dinner in Visyna's place. She stepped through the trees and onto a thin strip of grass that ran around the edge of a small pool of still water as black as the sky above it. She sat down and began to seek.

It was easier this time. Her fingers traced filigrees of light in the shadows before her, creating silvery skeins that spread out through the web of natural life, calling. The pool's surface roiled in response to her efforts, scattering shards of light and shadow like daggers about the grove, but none penetrated beyond the trees, for shadows had filled the spaces between until anyone looking from outside the grove would have seen nothing but darkness within.

"He is a threat."

The grove of trees contained the voice, amplifying it so that it resonated within her body. She shuddered and looked away from the brilliant emptiness of the light as she stood up.

"Konowa means well, but he is confused about the right thing to do." The words came out in a rush, as if saying them fast mitigated the guilt she suddenly felt.

The light refracted into the blackness and the earth moved beneath her feet. It felt as if the very ground was dissolving beneath her.

"He must be stopped."

There was tenseness to the voice Visyna had never heard before. She started to tell the Star of the power Konowa now possessed, but for some reason she couldn't bring herself to say it. "He is stubborn and a fool, but his desire is to protect the Iron Elves. I understand that desire."

"As you did on the plains."

It sounded like a rebuke. "I respect all life, but my loyalty remains to my land, my people, and our rightful heritage. I will do everything in my power to see that you are returned to the elfkynan, but I see no reason that others should die needlessly to achieve that goal."

"Your lack of vision is disturbing. She will bend him to Her will, and I am not strong enough yet to stop it. It is why you were chosen." There was a long pause, and then the Star spoke again. "Perhaps a woman is too weak for this task."

Visyna bristled at the thought. "I will not fail. When the time comes, I will do what is necessary."

"The time is closer than you think. Another will aid you in your task."

Before Visyna could protest, the image of the Star disappeared within a collapsing brilliance that seemed to suck the very vision from her eyes. She reached out a hand to steady herself but could find no tree to grab. She blinked several times, and seeing a faint source of light, took a step toward it. Her foot splashed down into water and she would have tumbled into the pool but for a hand that grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back. Her scream was muffled by another that covered her mouth, and then gently withdrew. Visyna rubbed her eyes then opened them, and the grove and light from the campfires was visible again. She was finally able to look at the owner of the hand still on her arm.

"Private Kritton at your service, my lady," the elf said.

I t smells of the very bowels of all that is unholy," Inkermon said, holding his nose as he stood in the main entranceway to the mound.

"A bit pungent, I'll admit," Yimt said, holding up a burning brand to look down a tunnel. "Still, beats being aboveground, in my book. Now, let's get in here and set up home before some of the others get the idea."

Alwyn did his best to breathe through his mouth as he and the rest of the section followed Yimt down the tunnel and deeper into the mound. Alwyn doubted any of the other soldiers would be in a rush to claim the mound as a shelter.

As they walked downward the flaming brand revealed a series of masterfully worked words along the walls. Alwyn couldn't read the language, but he sensed their purpose as some kind of protective talisman. The words flowed into shapes, and soon the walls were covered in finely carved reliefs.

Human-like figures of majestic proportions cavorted in a great erotic orgy of limbs and other parts so that it was impossible to tell where one body ended and another began. Unlike the statue of the deity outside, these carvings were raw, unadorned by paint, the naked sandstone taking on an almost fleshlike hue as a result. Alwyn gaped, fascinated and horrified at the same time, as they entered a large room, presumably a bedchamber, although there was no furniture to be found. Feelings welled up inside him that he had felt before, but as yet had not had the chance to do anything about. He found he was breathing fast and took a long swig from his canteen, trying to look everywhere but at the walls.

Unlike Alwyn, Yimt always seemed at ease and ready to pounce at the same time. There was something about the way he just owned the air he breathed and the space around him that other men respected, and feared, even if they couldn't say why. Alwyn knew some of the why, though, having seen the dwarf in action.

Yimt was combing out his beard with the end of his small, wooden dagger. Every so often a bug would flutter free of the tangled mess and zip off toward one of the flaming brands that were lighting their new, temporary home.

The smell of the cave, for it was hard not to think of it as such, was actually less foul now that they were deep inside it-either that or they were becoming used to the smell. Whatever the case, Alwyn began to think staying the night wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Here," Yimt said, holding out one of his canteens to Inkermon, "have a swig of this, and prepare to lose some money."

Inkermon recoiled and shook his head vigorously. "I'll thank you to keep that vile swill away from me, and not to tempt me with your sinful games of chance." He looked around at the rest of them. "Have you no shame? You sit in a room of decadent, lustful filth, but I will not. I am a man of faith."