Chris Evans - A Darkness Forged in Fire

The large bara jogg, their impromptu meal finished, responded by jerking and rolling their bodies faster up the bank, teeth-filled mouths opening and closing in anticipation of more flesh. The rakkes began to howl again and move forward, sensing the change was in their favor.

"Three hundred yards to the fortress, gentlemen," Konowa shouted above the din, walking Zwindarra around the tight area within the circle. He could see his breath as he spoke, though he didn't feel particularly cold. "Just three hundred yards, a stroll in the park."

There were a few laughs, not as many as Konowa had hoped for. He looked over at Lorian. The RSM sat tall in his saddle, the reins in his left hand, his halberd leaning against his right shoulder. He walked his horse slowly around the inside of the square, nodding approval at what he saw. It was now or never.

"Keep it tight, keep it strong, and don't run! Now let's get out of here. Regiment…forward march!"

The square lurched forward. Konowa knew the trouble would come from the rear, which was forced to march backward. Lorian was already on it, shouting encouragement to the men and giving a tap with the butt of his halberd to those who needed a bit more.

They quickly outpaced the bara jogg, who continued to scratch and spike their way forward, the first of them crawling over the abandoned firing position. The rakkes were another matter. Their frenzy peaked with long, drawn-out howls, and then they charged as one, converging on both the Iron Elves and the elfkynan.

Many rakkes held crude wooden blades in their hands, the weapons little more than large, splintered chunks of the sarka har. The pieces of wood dripped black ichor, the frost that covered the ground sizzling wherever a drop landed. Konowa had been prepared to let the rakkes get within seventy-five yards before giving the command to fire, but then one of the rakkes let out a great mewling cry and threw its splinter at the square. The soldiers facing the rakke saw it coming and ducked, but those facing the opposite direction did not.

The wood caught one soldier high in the back, running him through and slamming his body to the ground. Black frost began to grow on the wood immediately and soon covered the soldier's body. The square faltered as soldiers turned to look.

"Halt! Face out! Hold your positions! On my command, the outer rank will volley…fire!" The muskets sounded like deep ice breaking up, the cold air lending a clarity to their violence. Sparks flew and gray smoke roiled outward from all points of the compass. Dull, wet thwacks marked the striking of flesh by iron, and scores of rakkes went down, the rest retreating to a safer distance to howl in rage.

The attack against the elfkynan circle made more progress, the discipline of the native warriors not as strong as the Iron Elves', and the rain of arrows not as lethal. As rakkes charged and threw their jagged missiles, many elfkynan shifted position, breaking the integrity of the circle. Those who strayed or found themselves outside were quickly overcome by fangs and claws and dripping black splinters. The bodies were not consumed by frost fire, however; instead, roots from the nearest sarka har would plunge up from below, impaling the body as a new blood tree began to grow.

"Sir, we have to keep moving!" Lorian shouted, struggling to keep his horse under control. The animal's eyes showed white and it began frothing at the mouth as it chewed its bit.

Konowa knew he was right, but already a new problem was literally growing to make that more and more difficult. "There are a lot of trees between here and the fort-I can't destroy them all myself."

Lorian looked over at the body of the fallen soldier. There was nothing left, just a dull, black stain on the ground where he had lain. "Let's get this over with, then." The sound of spikes and scales being dragged across the hard ground grew louder as the enlarged bara jogg came on. The Iron Elves had no choice but to keep going.

Konowa shouted for Private Vulhber. The giant stepped out of line and into the center of the square. Konowa dismounted and held out Zwindarra's reins. "Take care of him for me; the RSM and I have some work to do." It was a gift any of the soldiers would have treasured, a chance to stay within the protective center of the square. After witnessing Vulhber's heroics, Konowa figured the soldier deserved it.

Hrem looked at the reins longingly, then shook his head. "If it's all the same to you, Major, I'd just as soon not. I've got an idea about what you two are going to do, and I figure a third pair of hands might come in, well, handy."

"Can you control the power well enough?" Lorian asked, dismounting.

"Better than most. Seems only a few of the lads can really work it so far and I'm one of them." There was no joy in the statement, or pride. "That's why I'm still here. I used the frost to slow the fuse of that shell while I tried to pull it out. Still working out the kinks, but I saw what the major did with those trees back at the outpost. I'd just as soon help you and get this over with."

"Words to live by," Konowa said, whistling for two soldiers nearby to come and take the reins of the horses. One of them was the weasel-faced private who had bayoneted the wounded elfkynan. Konowa was tempted to order him back into the line, but a chunk of black wood tumbling through the air and gouging a furrow in the ground in the center of the square got his attention.

"Lorian, Private Vulhber and I will deal with the trees; you stay here and command," Konowa said.

Lorian looked surprised. "I'll burn the damn trees, sir, I'm not afraid of them."

Konowa gave him a quick smile. "I know you aren't, but someone has to keep the boys in shape and I'll be rather busy."

"Then you should stay and I should go with Vulhber. You're an officer, sir, you should stay in the center and command. It's your proper place," he finished.

"I'm no Prince, RSM. I'll lead them back through the trees; you have command of the square. Take Zwindarra, you'll have a better view," he said, taking the reins from weasel-face and handing them to Lorian. Konowa then saluted, forcing Lorian to return it.

"Let's go, Private," Konowa said, sheathing his saber and stepping through the side of the square facing the fortress. "You, too," he said, pointing at weasel-face, who was trying to wrest the reins of Lorian's horse from another private.

"Me, sir?" Zwitty asked, shock registering on his face.

"You'll be our scout. If you see trouble, let us know."

Private Vulhber slung his musket on a broad shoulder and grabbed Zwitty by the arm, propelling him through the square.

"I didn't volunteer!" Zwitty shouted, panic breaking his voice.

Konowa grabbed him by the front of the jacket and jerked him onto his toes. Frost radiated out from the point where his hand held the cloth and up to the collar of the soldier's jacket. "Oh, but you did. As soon as I saw you use that bayonet, I knew you were just the man for the job. Now you keep your eyes peeled and watch our backs, or you won't get a chance to volunteer for anything again."

Konowa released his grasp and the frost evaporated in a swirling mist. He turned and motioned to Private Vulhber. "You'll hear screaming; just squeeze harder."

Without waiting for a reply, Konowa looked back to Lorian, now sitting astride Zwindarra. He waved his arm, then turned and walked toward the first tree.

A howl rose from the rakkes at the sight of the three Iron Elves outside the bristling wall of bayonets. Konowa ignored them, focusing his attention on the tree in front of him. Musket fire from the fortress sounded for the first time, a short rippling burst that was quickly swallowed by the night. A single arrow from an elfkynan archer flitted by Konowa's head, but the acorn against his chest had nothing to say on the subject.