Chris Evans - A Darkness Forged in Fire

As the skirmishers jogged back, one of them veered off to the right to where the one-armed elfkynan cavalry trooper still stood and bayoneted him in the back. The elfkynan screamed and fell, the soldier stabbing him again and again until the screaming stopped. The soldier quickly rifled through the dead elfkynan's clothing, then rejoined the troops filing back across the bridge.

Konowa saw the weasel-faced soldier as he stepped off the dock and pointed to him. The soldier looked around for a moment, clearly hoping Konowa wanted someone else, but when he saw he was it, he marched over.

"Private Gorton Zwitty, Major," he said, saluting.

"Why did you bayonet that elfkynan?"

Zwitty looked confused. "Which one, sir? I put the steel to a few of them heathen. Squealed like little girls, the cowards."

Konowa reined in his temper and pointed across the river. He was aware that Lorian and several soldiers were watching. "The one missing an arm."

"Why did I bayonet him?" Zwitty asked, clearly puzzled by the question. "Answer the major," Lorian barked, startling Zwitty.

Zwitty shrugged. "I did what the major told us: If they had one of those moja things, get in close and do 'em, so I did."

The futility of it all hit Konowa, and he waved the soldier away. He saw Lorian looking at him and asked the RSM for a report.

"The elfkynan are a mess," he began quickly, his breathing still labored after the exertions of the last couple of hours. His face was flushed, and there was a wild look to his eyes. Konowa recognized it at once, a feeling of indescribable exhilaration at having fought and survived in battle. In his banishment, he had missed it terribly.

"Discipline is poor, more like a mob than an army. And the bastards didn't seem to care one bit as we shot at them. They just kept chanting Sillra, Sillra. Main column looks to be a couple hundred wide and thirty deep, give or take a few."

"Their faith in the Star is strong," Konowa said, feeling the smallest sense of disappointment that it was misplaced.

"It's like they think it will protect them from being killed," Lorian said, his breathing slowing as the rush of battle left him. "I couldn't get a good look at the two wings that went out, so I did a quick scout of my own and counted close to two thousand in the right wing. The left has probably got the same. And you saw their cavalry, brave enough, but not much to worry about on this side of the river. I'd wager three to four hundred at the most."

"A quick scout of your own?" Konowa asked, looking at the still-bloody halberd.

Lorian grimaced, then nodded. "I couldn't see a damn thing where I was, so I borrowed one of them ponies and went for a gander."

Cavalry. Lorian was no different from the Duke of Rakestraw, galloping at everything with no regard for his own safety. Having spent considerable time in the saddle the last few weeks, Konowa was beginning to suspect that it was the horses, not the cavalry troopers, that had more sense.

"Not exactly what I had in mind when I said no heroics," Konowa said, waving away Lorian's protest. "The Duke would not have been pleased if I had lost him his best sergeant." He shook his head and smiled. "Well done all the same. If my math is close, that would give the rebels six thousand in the center, maybe a couple thousand in each wing, and a few hundred cavalry." He paused for a moment, then asked the question they were both reluctant to hear. "What did we lose?"

"Two dead and five wounded," Lorian said simply.

It pained him to lose a single Iron Elf, but their losses were light, and the skirmishers had succeeded in drawing the attention of the elfkynan, who even now were marching toward the river.

"Put them in for a citation. I want their widows to get a full pension," Konowa said, knowing it was cold comfort for the loss of a loved one. "Their deaths won't be in vain."

"If they are in fact dead," Lorian said, hanging his head. Ice crystals winked along the length of his halberd and the blood on the metal point thickened, darkening as it did so. A perfectly rounded drop froze before vanishing in a flicker of frost flames. Lorian never looked up.

Konowa glanced around to see if they were watched, but the preparations to receive the elfkynan attack had all the soldiers' attention. "This isn't the time, Lorian."

Lorian brought his head up as if waking from a dream. He stiffened and saluted. "Of course, Major. I'll see to the defenses," he said, striding back to the pier to oversee its dismantling.

Watching him go, Konowa realized he couldn't put it off any longer. The troops deserved some kind of explanation. He walked over to a pile of ammunition crates and climbed on top of them. Soldiers nearby saw him and began motioning to others. Soon, shouts were going up and down the line that the major was going to speak.

"Soldiers of the Iron Elves! Battle has been joined," he began, cringing at the obviousness of it. He shook his head and lowered his voice slightly, looking down at the upturned faces. Many were smiling, their trust in him absolute.

"Today, at this place, the true measure of your heart will be taken. Blood will flow, nerves will fray, and men will die. Make no mistake, the day will be hard. But know also that as with all days, this one too shall fade into night, and a new dawn will rise."

A few muted cheers rumbled through the regiment, the reminder of the coming battle having a sobering effect.

"Take comfort in the fact that you are the rarest of all warriors to walk the land in any age. You are Iron Elves, oath takers bound to all those that went before. Their strength is your strength. Be not afraid of it, for therein lies your power!"

The cheers were louder now. Muskets were held high in the air, the sun glinting off them like steel lightning.

Konowa tried to think of something else to say, but the regiment continued to cheer, the air growing cooler around them. He abruptly pulled his saber from its scabbard and held it skyward.

"For the Queen! For the Empire! For the Iron Elves!"

They answered as one, their voice a cold, clarion note through a mist-shrouded forest.

Konowa resheathed his saber and stepped down from the crates, smiling back at his men as they continued to cheer. Each one believing the lie.

As he walked along the line, the sound of cheering came from the other side of the river. Konowa paused, trying to hear what was being yelled, but it didn't really matter. The rebel leaders would be telling their troops much the same, perhaps invoking the power of the Star. The elfkynan, like the Iron Elves, would believe the same lie, knowing that they would prevail while others died.

Whose speech, Konowa wondered, had been closer to the truth?

Inja had been born in the palace stables. The warm, heavy smells of the large animals had filled her lungs with her very first breath. By the time she was four, she could ride any horse in the stables, even the big stallions. At seven it was clear that she had the limoo sy about her, the ability to know things that had not yet come to pass…as it related to horses. Now at fifteen, Inja could predict within the minute when a mare would foal and which horse was going to develop colic and die months before it happened, giving the stable master ample time to sell the beast at full price to an unsuspecting buyer. She knew the fate of every horse in the stable, including the fastest of them all, Hizurantha.

Inja walked slowly toward the stall of the three-year-old gray gelding, the six-inch blade in her hand growing heavier with each step.

She knew that what she was about to do was a merciful thing. No creature should have to endure what she had forseen for Hizu. It was a fate truly worse than death.

Hizu smelled her coming and whinnied with anticipation, knowing she always brought him a chunk of keela fruit. Inja looked down at her hand and saw only the cold glint of steel. Could she really do this thing? What if she was wrong, what if her vision had been a mistake? The nightmare flashed repeatedly through her mind, as sharp as the knife in her hand.