Chris Evans - A Darkness Forged in Fire

"We all do things we aren't proud of, my dear-the key, as I mentioned before, is what one does about it to make it right. And the answer," Rallie said, leaning over and patting Visyna on the knee, "you already know."

"You have more faith in me than I do myself," she said. She knew, though she hated to admit it, that the Empire, as vile and heartless as it was, would not allow the Shadow Monarch to exert influence in Elfkyna or anywhere else in the world, just as Konowa would do all in his power to protect the Iron Elves, and her. It was both comforting and confusing.

Something touched her awareness and she looked up, flowing her senses outward. It was a flying creature, but what exactly she could not tell.

"Oh, dear, here comes Wobbly," Rallie said, motioning skyward with her cigar.

Visyna looked up. A snow-white pelican was laboriously flapping its way toward them, tilting across the sky as if fighting a crosswind, then angling back on course. Jir was captivated, his snout high in the air as he watched the bird.

"It's wounded!"

Rallie clucked and stood up, blowing a large smoke ring into the air. "No, not exactly." She sat back down and pulled the hood of her cloak up around her head. "Duck."

The bird had seen the smoke ring and was now aiming toward the wagon. Soldiers up and down the line began pointing and shouting until sergeants got them in check.

Rallie peered out from beneath her hood and looked to the sky. "Duck!"

Visyna threw herself down on the footboards as the pelican flew straight at them and kept on going, bouncing off the top of the wagon in a spray of feathers, shooting back into the air, and wheeling about on one wing. Jir crouched in the wet grass, his tail swishing violently. The bird spied the bengar in the grass and squawked, swinging back toward the safety of the wagon, its large, webbed feet paddling furiously as if trying to gain traction. It finally made it to the wagon, crashing down on top of the canvas cover in a flurry of more white feathers.

"The poor thing," Visyna said, getting up and climbing back over the wagon to help the stunned bird. It righted itself and shook its head, the skin under its enormous bill flapping about like an extra wing. It saw her and immediately opened its mouth wide. There was a small rolled leather tube inside. Visyna gingerly stuck her hand into its mouth and pulled the tube out. That's when she noticed the smell.

"Rallie, I think this bird has been poisoned."

Rallie looked back over her shoulder and held out a large wooden canteen to Visyna. "Poisoned, indeed. Quick, give it the antidote."

Visyna handed Rallie the leather tube and took the canteen, unscrewing the lid and sniffing the contents.

"This is beer!"

Rallie cackled and nodded. "Just what the doctor ordered after all that whiskey he's been drinking. He's a happy drunk, but one surly pile of feathers when sober."

The pelican still had its mouth wide open and now made a few screeches to get Visyna's attention. Reluctantly she upended the canteen into the bird's mouth. The pouch beneath its bill filled up, then it closed its bill and threw its head straight back, the beer disappearing down its gullet in one gulp. Satisfied, it waddled over to the edge of the wagon and looked down at the bengar keeping pace. The pelican clacked its bill together a couple of times at Jir and then moved back to the center of the wagon where it flopped down with its wings spread out wide to either side and closed its eyes. Sreexes growled and yipped below it, but it paid no attention to them.

"Is it dead?" Visyna asked, watching to see if the bird still breathed.

Rallie didn't even turn around, instead eyeing Jir, who was now fascinated by a large tortoise off to the side of the road. "Just sleeping it off. Old Wobbly is the canniest courier I've ever seen. Has an ability to find who or what he's looking for no matter where it might be, but only when he's got a bill full."

Wobbly's mouth opened for a second and a wave of fumes rolled out, followed by a deeply contented sigh. Visyna put the top back on the canteen and crawled back to sit beside Rallie, who had put the reins in her lap and was reading the parchment she had taken out of the leather tube.

"What does it say?" Visyna asked, looking over her shoulder one more time to make sure. The pelican was snoring.

Rallie rolled the parchment back up and took a few thoughtful drags on her cigar. "It's from my editor in Celwyn. We're in even more trouble than I thought possible, and I have a very expansive imagination."

T he rain clouds split like overripe melons, drenching the small patrol in an instant. One moment the dark landscape was quiet, and the next it was as if the very world had shaken loose and everything was in turmoil.

Alwyn wrapped a small piece of oilcloth around the lock of his musket, but he doubted it would do more than keep the rain out. The powder would already be absorbing the moisture in the air and rendering the musket unable to fire. His spectacles were once again a blurry mess, and the pressure of the rain on his skin made him feel that he was marching six feet under water.

He reached around behind him and adjusted the small canvas cover on the cage, looking inside to see how Quppy was doing. The sreex seemed completely unaffected by the rain, the water beading up and rolling off its leathery feathers with ease. He saw Alwyn and gave a quiet growl, revealing his toothy mouth. Alwyn smiled back and patted the cage, careful to keep his fingers from getting between the wooden slats.

Daylight was still hours off and the rain showed no sign of slowing, which meant they'd be walking blind. He heard, or thought he heard, a splash somewhere behind him, but before he could turn there was a flash of movement up ahead. Alwyn pointed his bayonet in that direction and cautiously inched forward, trying to watch where he walked lest he slip and go tumbling into the river, which was quickly growing in size and force.

"-somebody with that thing!"

Alwyn jerked to a stop, his bayonet halfway through Yimt's shako. He pulled it out and grounded his musket, shouting his apology as he did so. The rain fell about them in sheets, making it impossible to see more than a few feet in any direction.

"N'bhat says the river will crest inside the hour. We'll have to swing wide and get away from it!"

Other forms started to appear. Alwyn quietly counted the shadows, praying there wouldn't be one extra this time. There wasn't. Now they were one short.

Yimt walked around the circle peering up into each face. When he was done he shook his head, sending water flying everywhere, not that it made a difference. "Where is Alik?"

Heads shook in the dark. Alwyn remembered hearing the splash.

"I think he might have fallen into the river! I heard something a minute ago. It could have been him." His heart felt sick. He'd liked Alik.

"Show me where!" Yimt shouted, motioning for Alwyn to lead the way. A hand reached out and stopped him. It was Kritton.

"He's gone; forget about him," Kritton said. "We need to move on."

Yimt grabbed the elf by the arm and pushed him away. "We don't leave anyone behind, not if I can help it. Now, form a line, grab the other fellow's belt, and move! Ally, show us where."

Alwyn felt Yimt grab hold of his belt and then he was walking toward the river. He imagined this was what sailors felt like being at sea. Water sprayed his face, the noise drowned out any other sound, and everything seemed to be in motion. He felt forward one foot at a time, sure he would suddenly plummet into the river and be swept away like Alik.

"I think this is the place," Alwyn said, trying to judge the distance from where he had been standing and deciding this was it. He could just see the edge of the river a few feet away. The rain frothed along its surface and here and there dark objects raced by faster than Alwyn liked.