Chris Evans - A Darkness Forged in Fire

Konowa urged the horse forward at another group of elfkynan. He bent low in the saddle and stabbed one in the chest, the blade jumping in his hand as it hit spine. The wound began to blacken as frost fire licked around the embedded blade. The elfkynan wrenched himself backward, his shrieks ending abruptly as he vomited black ichor.

Two more elfkynan ran toward him, but before they got within distance of his saber or Zwindarra, Lorian came charging past on his horse and skewered the first on his halberd and rode over the second. An Iron Elf stepped out of the line and bayoneted the trampled elfkynan for good measure. Konowa noticed faint flickers of frost fire on the wounds.

He was still staring at the black flames when something hard struck him in the chest. Bitter cold burst over him and he fell from the saddle, barely able to kick his boots free from the stirrups as he did so. He landed flat on his back, the air rushing out of his lungs as everything went momentarily gray. The arrow that had struck the acorn under his jacket lay shattered a few feet away.

An elfkynan ran toward him, his screams of "Sillra! Sillra!" barely audible in the din of battle. Konowa tried to raise his saber, but his right arm was incapable of lifting a feather at that moment. A great black shadow loomed on top of him and Zwindarra dashed the elfkynan's brains out with a single flick of a front hoof.

The elfkynan charge faltered. Konowa's breath came back in a painful rush and he sat up, his limbs once again responding.

"Reform the line! Reform the line!" Lorian shouted, standing up in the saddle and motioning the troops to close the gap around Konowa. The soldiers began to move toward each other again, still falling back as they did so. Two grabbed hold of Konowa and helped him to his feet. He thanked them and gingerly got back into the saddle, allowing Zwindarra to carry him back toward Lorian.

Now that the gap had closed, the elfkynan attack turned to the new gap opening between the river and the fortress. The cannon covering the gap fired one more time, decimating a group of elfkynan and propelling the rest toward the fortress.

Seeing the fleeing soldiers, the elfkynan were encouraged, believing the Iron Elves had finally succumbed to the pressure.

A tremendous cheer sounded from the elfkynan ranks. Their bloody assault on the river directly across from the regiment slowed as the remaining forces shifted to cross near the gap. Konowa estimated at least a thousand elfkynan were still on their feet, but what he had in store for them would lower that number quickly.

The line of retreating siggers began to wheel to the left, falling back on the riverbank. This created an opening for the elfkynan to surge through between the fortress and the river. If they recognized the killing ground for what it was, they never showed it.

"Are you okay, Major?" Lorian said, trotting up to him on his horse. He reached out a hand, but instead of grabbing Konowa's elbow, he patted Zwindarra's neck.

"Thanks to this fellow I am," Konowa said, leaning forward to give the horse a pat as well.

"He's a fine beast, all right," Lorian said, clearly admiring the horse. "Fights like a real demon."

"Let's hope they don't," Konowa said, watching with growing dismay as the elfkynan ran past. Thousands were either dead or wounded, and why? Because they believed in a power greater than themselves, a power they believed would deliver their country from the Empire that controlled it. Konowa brought his hand up to his chest and felt the cold presence under his coat. What, he wondered, was he fighting for?

"Major?"

Konowa grunted an acknowledgment, watching the elfkynan stream past, their euphoria childlike. Once they were within the ring of trees, the trap would be sprung.

Konowa looked up the hill to see the Color party running into the fortress where the rest of C Company waited, along with the supporting howitzer. He looked back and saw that every second man in the firing line along the river had spun about to face the fortress.

The elfkynan were now caught in the middle.

The final slaughter needed only his command.

A lwyn walked alone in the growing dark, his eyes searching the path before him for any sign of danger. The others had moved on ahead while he and Miss Red Owl had walked slowly, talking for quite a while about Miss Tekoy and the major. He got the distinct impression that Miss Red Owl didn't entirely approve of Miss Tekoy for some reason, but he thought they were very much alike, though he kept that to himself. Miss Red Owl had finally stopped asking questions and gone off into the forest to visit with her other children for a while. Alwyn wasn't sure if she meant elves or trees.

He unstoppered the gourd with the tree sap that was a lot more than tree sap and took a drink. The liquid tingled as it went down his throat and the aches and pains of the march vanished. Even the throbbing in his chest subsided. He tipped the gourd up for another drink, but only a drop came out. He shook it. Empty. He considered tossing the gourd away, then thought better of it, knowing the way the elves of the Long Watch felt about trees and such.

There was a rustling in the bushes off to the left and Alwyn froze in midstep, his musket already in his hands. He knew it wasn't the elves. They moved through the forest like fish through water. He envied their skill and tried to imitate their light walk, but in a pair of heavy boots with all his equipment it was a bit like getting a muraphant over eggshells.

The sound grew louder as the source of the noise moved toward the path. Alwyn eased the hammer back on his musket and crouched. He wasn't going to be surprised again. The leaves of the nearest bush parted and out came one pleased-looking dwarf.

"If the elves ask, I was watering the mushrooms," Yimt said, straightening his caerna as he emerged onto the path. He walked up to Alwyn and gently turned his musket aside. "Ally, lad, there are many things a sigger can get shot for in the Imperial Army, but emptying your bladder ain't one of them…well, unless you do it in an officer's shako."

Alwyn uncocked his musket and stood up straight, letting out his breath. "I should have known it was you."

Yimt patted him on the arm and the two started walking on the path. "Better to be safe than sorry these days." He looked around them, scratching his head. "The others must be ahead. I left Teeter in charge of Scolly and Inkermon. Mercy, those two are a pair. You see what rank gets you? Put in charge of a group of misfits an insane asylum wouldn't take on account it would give them a bad name."

Alwyn smiled and quickened his pace, forcing the dwarf to keep up. It did nothing to slow his tongue.

"Speaking of not quite right, did Miss Red Owl tell you any more about that leafy fellow and that flying rat? Something ain't right about that little critter. And as far as that elf goes, I don't think the shaft goes all the way up in that mine."

Alwyn looked around, knowing it wouldn't do any good. Tyul could be a couple of feet away from them and they wouldn't see him unless he wanted them to.

"He really, really likes trees-well, at least his one tree anyway. Seems they bond with them for life. That's how they get their weapons and those arrows."

Yimt raised a bushy eyebrow. "Bond with trees, you say?"

Alwyn blushed. "Not like that! It's more a spiritual thing. You know, I think I've been hearing them a little, sort of…talking, but not with words exactly. The trees, I mean." He waited for the inevitable rebuttal.

"First, there was poor, old, dead Meri come back to life as a shadow, then there was an elf that wasn't exactly an elf but was like the major only not exactly, and now, now you're hearing trees talking," Yimt said, ticking off the offenses on his hand.