Chris Evans - A Darkness Forged in Fire

A shade of the Thirty-fifth Regiment appeared in front of Konowa and he cut it down, his saber equally effective against shadow. Nothing could stand up to him. He heard the twang of a bowstring and felt the arrow slicing through the air. He reached out with his senses and burned it with frost fire. The feeling was glorious. Another group of rakkes massed for an attack. Konowa spread the fingers of his left hand wide and slowly squeezed. Frost and flame burst over the rakkes, their screaming pitiful as they tried to run. Konowa squeezed his hand tighter and then opened it with a yelp. A white feather quill stuck out of the top of his hand.

"I think that's more than enough," Rallie said, striding toward him. Visyna, the Prince, and the regimental Color party followed.

Konowa looked around him. The battlefield had changed. The bara jogg were crawling back to the river, while rakkes and black elves vanished into the sarka har, the limbs of the trees embracing them. Elves of the Long Watch spread out across the wreckage, their oath-bond weapons tiny sparks of warmth in a cold, dark sea of Her power.

Black flame danced along Konowa's saber and frost radiated out in all directions from beneath him. His breath misted and hung in the air, a swirling veil muting everything around him. With a single thought he burned the quill in his hand. The power coursing through him was wonderful and terrible.

Konowa flowed his senses outward, searching, and found a source of power searching in return. He turned and saw a tiny sapling pushing up through the frost, but unlike the sarka har, this tree grew proud and straight and shone with a brilliant red glow. Konowa looked closer. It looked like a Wolf Oak, only more…perfect. The buds on its thin branches began sprouting leaves, and as they unfurled it was clear to see they were unmistakably in the shape of a star. Without a word he walked over and stood above it. He looked up to the sky, searching the darkness for a sign, but he already knew what he had found.

This was the Eastern Star returned.

When Hizu finally collapsed beneath the Viceroy, he was still a day's ride from Luuguth Jor. Disgusted, he jerked his boots from the stirrups and awkwardly stood to his feet, pulling the long green cloak he had chosen to wear tighter around him. It crinkled with the sound of the hoar frost that lined its interior, a glorious sensation against his new flesh.

He stood over the horse's head and nudged it with his boot. Pink, frothy bubbles blew from its nose and the one eye he could see was rolled back, the cornea shot through with blood. Forcing his knees to bend, a motion he was still relearning as he sought to work the joints where his flesh had been reborn through Her beneficence, he crouched over the dying animal and laid both hands on it, commanding it to rise as he had commanded Her forces to kill.

Black frost spread across its body like ink spilled from a jar. The horse neighed once, twice, and blew dark streams of blood from its nose and mouth. He stood up and waited, watching the eye turn cloudy as the fluid from the animal's mouth changed from red to gray to black. Much faster than even he had recovered, the horse lurched to its hooves, leaving strips of flesh frozen to the ground where it had lain just a moment ago. It turned to him and opened its mouth wide, its sound now rumbling from deep within frost-burnt lungs.

Now this, the Viceroy thought, was a horse.

Warm water trickled down her throat. Inja remembered and opened her mouth to scream. A harsh, rasping sound echoed in her ears.

"Easy now, girl, I don't look that bad."

Inja closed her mouth and opened her eyes. At first, all she could make out was polished metal and locks of red hair in the lamplight. She was still in the stable, but now lay on one of the straw-filled mattresses for the help, a blanket over her body. She shivered and clutched it tight around her. Her vision cleared, and she made out a man wearing a shiny metal helm and cuirass-a cavalry officer. Several others stood around her bed, their expressions a mix of sorrow and revulsion. Most curiously, a white bird sat on the foot of her bed, its bill tucked under one wing. It appeared to be snoring.

"Who…are…you?" she asked, each word a challenge.

"Ah, of course, we haven't been properly introduced." He stood up from beside her bed and doffed his helmet, the long horsehair plume brushing her exposed arm resting on top of the blanket. "I am the Duke of Rakestraw, Colonel Jaal Endrehar, knight commander of Her Majesty's cavalry in Elfkyna. And these gentlemen are my staff," he said, motioning with a gauntleted hand at the group, who bowed and nodded toward her. "We received a message that we should pay a visit to the Viceroy at our earliest convenience, and found you lying on the floor…injured."

His voice was deep and rough, but kindness gave it a gentle, soothing quality, and his smile, despite the many scars on his face, outshone the lanterns. Inja brought her hand up to her throat and felt the skin there. It was scarred, and freezing to the touch. "I am Inja, my lord. I work in the stables. I was here when the Viceroy came," she said, understanding now why some of the officers turned away. "He took Hizu and left. I knew what would happen, but I couldn't stop him." At the thought of Hizu, Inja began to sob.

"Oh, now, don't do that, darling. I'm sure they can't have got far. We'll track the bastard down and get Hizu back," the Duke said, looking at his officers.

"Hizu is dead; worse than dead. The Viceroy has changed him, as he has been changed." And as I have been changed, she didn't add, bringing her hand up to her throat again. She couldn't stop shivering. The Duke gently took her hand in his and brought it back down to the bed. One of his officers threw a shabraque over her, the lamb's wool thick and heavy.

"I don't understand," he said, still smiling at her.

"Then I will show you," she said, pulling herself up using the Duke's hand. She pulled the shabraque around her like a shawl. The movement woke the bird-a pelican, she saw, which flapped its wings a couple of times then hiccuped and tucked its bill back under a wing.

Inja took a couple of steps and would have fallen if the Duke hadn't put a hand around her waist.

"Easy now, Inja, I think you should rest," he said, trying to place her back on the bed. "We need to get a fire going to warm you up."

Inja shook her head. "No, you must see. He will kill many more. It is the table," she said, pointing up toward the palace.

The Duke stopped trying to sit her back down. "Maybe you'd better lie down. Tables can't hurt you-well, not unless they're being thrown at you," he said, trying to make her laugh.

She shook her head. "No, you are wrong. It is not merely a table. The soul of something dark lies within it. It remembers-it remembers when it was a tree, and it is angry."

"Oh, now, I know a thing or two about the Wolf Oaks and the Long Watch and that, ahem, bonding they do, but I never heard of an oath bond with a piece of furniture."

"You mock me!"

The Duke smiled and ducked his head. "I apologize, but are you sure you don't mean a crystal ball, or maybe a book of spells sitting on the table? I think I know the table you're talking about, carved to look like a dragon? Bit garish, but hardly evil."

"I know of what I speak! It is evil. He uses it up in his room. Can you not feel it?"

At this the pelican looked up, suddenly interested in its surroundings. The Duke looked at his officers, who shrugged, clearly unable to sense the forces at work around them. "We've been riding for the better part of three weeks; I can't feel much of anything at the moment."

"Then I must show you, now." Without waiting for his reply she broke free from his arm and stumbled out of the stable. The Duke quickly caught up with her, holding out his arm for her to use for support. She heard the clatter of spurs on the cobblestones as his men followed.