Chris Evans - A Darkness Forged in Fire

Inja led them into the palace and up the many stairs toward the Viceroy's bedchamber. The Duke all but carried her the last few flights, her strength ebbing as she got closer to the room. Cold seeped into her bones, a deep, insatiable probing that began to tunnel her vision, even as the Duke kicked open the outer door to the room.

"It's freezing in here!"

Sabers scraped free of their scabbards as the Duke's men went to the inner door, the wood patinaed with black frost. Shoulders and boots hammered the door, which groaned and then tore from its hinges. A rush of bitterly cold air flooded the room.

The Duke gently handed her to another officer while he stepped into the inner chamber. He carefully crossed to the barred window, taking a wide path around the table in the center of the room. He flung open the bars, letting the warm outside air in. The pelican landed on the sill, staring in at the table with great curiosity. A glint of silver and the shadow of something much larger flew past the window, but the pelican seemed undisturbed by it.

The Duke turned back to the table, which seemed to shimmer as the air got colder. He stepped closer, leaning over to look at its surface. He suddenly stood up, his saber whistling from its scabbard.

"That sneaky bastard. This thing is like some huge crystal ball." He motioned for his men to stay back. "She's right, it is magic. If I'd known that I would have dug my spurs into it good."

He looked again. "What the devil?" the Duke shouted, his face going white with rage as he gazed at the surface.

"What is it?" an officer asked, his saber poised.

The Duke pointed to the surface of the table. "That's the Viceroy, and he's heading to Luuguth Jor. Damnation! We'll never get there in time." He looked back at the surface and his face grew grim. "Konowa and his boys are up against it, and there isn't a thing I can do about it."

Inja walked unsteadily into the room and stood opposite the Duke, the table between them. The pelican followed her steps intently. "It's very cold in here, my lord. If there were any fuel to burn, we could have some heat."

The Duke of Rakestraw lifted his head and looked at her from across the table. He had the most wonderfully dangerous smile she had ever seen.

It was only a tree, Konowa told himself, a living piece of wood. It was nothing. How could it possibly be one of the Stars? Thousands of elfkynan had given their lives believing its lie. Tens of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands, were flocking to its legend, fomenting rebellion in the hope they could win their freedom, deceived by a simple tree.

And Iron Elves had died, his men, his soldiers, and for what?

It was only a tree. It should have burned when he grabbed it. Konowa felt his hand close around its slender trunk, and then he was flying backward, a bolt of lightning leaping into the sky, turning night into day. A new, brilliant Star shone down from the heavens, bathing the battlefield in clear, red light.

Konowa landed on his left shoulder and rolled to a standing position. His left shoulder throbbed and he brought his right hand up to rub it and stopped as he saw that his saber was broken in two. All he held now in his hand was the hilt and a foot of jagged steel. He looked up. A single, spiraling beam of light now blazed between the Star above and the tree below. Heat spread from it in ever-expanding waves.

Steam rose from the ground, and the air grew heavier, wetter. Konowa squinted, shaking his head. A figure stood in the light, its robes flowing in the rushing energy being released. It reached and patted the sapling, then moved past it, though the light from the Star followed it. He sensed a new power unlike anything he had felt before.

"Welcome back, little one," Rallie said, looking up to the sky and smiling.

A blast of cold air cut through the heat, and Her Emissary rose from the earth, its form muted. "Give me the Star and save yourself."

Rallie looked amused. She pulled a new cigar out from beneath her robes and held it to the light, her eyes twinkling as the cigar end glowed to life.

"Give it to you? It's not mine to give," she said.

Konowa looked around in amazement. All eyes were focused on Rallie and Her Emissary and the blazing Star above them.

Her Emissary took a step forward. A bowstring released and a musket fired at the same time, but each shot passed right through its chest. Its laughter sounded like brittle rocks falling down a mountain. It drew forth its dagger, black flame curling around it like a living thing.

"Impressive," Rallie said, a white feather quill suddenly appearing in her free hand.

"Not even your weapons can harm me now. The sarka har delve deep. Her power will be absolute here, and the Star will fall to Her domain."

"You truly don't understand the power of the quill, do you? This one isn't for throwing," she said as she pulled a sheaf of paper from another fold in her robe. She held the quill over the paper, poised to begin sketching.

Konowa couldn't understand Rallie's game, but it didn't matter. He felt the truth in Her Emissary's words even as the warmth that had originally emanated from the light between the sapling and the Star began to wane. He shifted his grip on his saber and prepared to charge.

"There's no need, Major, Her Emissary will be leaving shortly. It should be quite an exit. I hope I can do it justice," she said, tentatively sketching in a few outlines.

"I will have the Star now!"

It took another step toward Rallie, the flames on its dagger leaping higher into the night.

The air sizzled and sparked between Her Emissary and Rallie. The acorn burned with cold anticipation against Konowa's chest, infusing his blood with shards of an ancient, dark power. This might be the Shadow Monarch's gift, but Konowa would use it to smite Her Emissary and damn the consequences. And this time, he wouldn't just kill the bastard, he'd annihilate it completely. He began to lift the broken saber, then found his arm unable to go any higher. He tried again to no avail.

"Major, if you please," Rallie said, her drawing becoming more vigorous. "I really do need to concentrate."

Konowa looked up and for the first time saw the sketch on Rallie's paper. It showed the tableau before them, but it wasn't still-it was moving. Light and shadow raced across the paper in a furious ebb and flow as Her Emissary and Rallie fought on a plane normal vision could not comprehend.

"Your parlor tricks won't hold me for long," Her Emissary said, taking another step forward. The very air appeared to bend around its body.

"They don't have to," Rallie said, suddenly turning the paper over with a flourish and beginning a new drawing.

Konowa caught a quick glimpse of the Duke of Rakestraw, a table, raised sabers, and a lit match.

Her Emissary stopped, its head cocked to the side as if listening to something. Then it shrieked.

"If at first you don't succeed…" Rallie said, drawing deeply on her cigar, the end glowing with red fire.

"My ryk faur!" The form that was Her Emissary wavered and then shattered into nothing.

Rallie nodded with satisfaction as she finished her sketch. "Not my best work, but I think my readers will get the general idea. Now," she said, putting her paper and quill away and looking lovingly at the young sapling, "what are we going to do with you?"

"You're going to give it to me." The Prince spoke up, stepping forward and holding out his hand. He cast his gaze around the battlefield and raised his voice. "I claim this prize in the name of Her Majesty the Queen, ruler of Calahr and all the lands of Her Empire."

Visyna's eyes flared, and Konowa knew it was only a matter of time before the situation got out of control.

"Your father should not have given you Her power, Konowa Swift Dragon."